#the dream pack
“Have you seen Swan? He’s not picking up his phone”
“Yeah he’s upstairs sleeping I think, he came in mumbling something about shitty school beds.”
Skov laughed as he took the stairs two at a time, going straight to the room at the end of the hall. He knew Swan would be in there, it was the room furthest away from K’s, you couldn’t hear the vibrations of his speakers from here.
He found the boy, face down in a pillow, his back slowly rising and falling with his breaths. His features were soft his hair sticking up against the black of the sheets, in the darkness it made him look like he was floating in the air.
Skov jumped on the bed laying next to the boy on top of the covers, he groaned in response to the disturbance.
“You know most people hear the phrase ‘he’s asleep’ and understand the implied ‘don’t bother him’” He buried his face further into the pillow flipping Skov off.
Skov smiled.
“Hmm but I’m not most people” His voice was light his fingers trailed over the boy’s back, wrapping them around his waist. He placed a kiss between the boy’s shoulder blades and blew air up his neck, making the boy shiver under him.
“No, you’re not. You’re just the fucker who thinks he is more important than my need to sleep!”
Skov laughed against Swan’s ear “I am,” he started moving his lips against the boy’s neck. “I am the most important.”
His hand pushed its way further down between the boy’s legs.
“Skov!” The name melted into a moan in the boy’s mouth, his hips grinding into Skov’s hand.
You wake to fingers in your hair, they’re soft, barely there. They spread warmth down your spine as they move to caress the base of your neck, lingering to play with the hairs. They play dot-to-dot with the freckles on your back, mapping them like constellations, raising goosebumps as they move.
You can feel the early morning sun through the window, but you’re not ready to get up, not ready for the boy to stop touching you. Which he’ll do if you stir, he’ll tell you it’s time for school, you’ll ask if he’s slept and he’ll evade your questions. So for now you try to focus on keeping your breathing steady and constant.
His hand moves to the dip in your spine making words with his fingers, spelling out something against your skin. M-O-R-N-I-N-G, you smile against your pillow, he’s such a dork. His face presses into your hair breathing you in, his hand glides under the covers tickling over your ass.
“You really shouldn’t sleep naked, it’s terribly unfair.” He’s kissing your neck and you never want to leave this bed, this is all you need, no food or water just him. His lips against yours, his hands in your hair, it’s all you need.
i. You use to want to play with Death as a child, you’d knock on his door and run, hide in the bushes waiting to see if he’d come he never did. When you grew up you saw him hanging out in alleyways leaning up against walls, he’d blow smoke into your mouth and you’d let it sit in your lungs. You liked the way his lips grazed your wrists, the way his fingers tickled your throat, you liked the way he smelt like decay.
ii. You still haven’t gotten use to sleeping next to someone, you’re use to flesh against flesh, biting and moaning and parting. You don’t do snuggling and you’ve never slept next to them, until him. The first time he fell asleep in your bed, hand draped over your naked torso, you didn’t sleep, you didn’t move. You couldn’t bare to wake him and that’s when you knew it was different, anyone else and you would’ve ran.
iii. The boy underneath you smells like sweet petrichor, he tastes of apples in the spring and the way he moans into your mouth, vibrates through your bones. He calls you his bird, while you sing under him. You don’t mind the nickname because you know he’s not trying to cage you. He understands bird’s are not made for tiny gold cages.
iv. You know he likes to sleep on his stomach, one hand on top of the pillow one underneath. You know he snores when he sleeps on his back, and stops when you hit him with your pillow. You know his first name and you like the way it tastes on your tongue. You know he has fifty-two moles on his back, because you count them when you can’t sleep. You know he gets nightmares and talks in his sleep. You know he gets whiny when he’s tired and lashes out when he doesn’t know what else to do. You know he’s insecure about the gaps in his teeth. You know he loves being kissed on the neck but hates being hugged from behind.
You know you shouldn’t make homes out of people but he’s a forest and you want to plant a garden and fall asleep in the sunshine. You’re falling in love with this boy and it’s going to destroy you.
v. Let’s just put it this way, if you were Icarus, your wings would be made of the most flammable material you could find, going out in a blaze of glory for just one touch of his lips, because he is a sun worth dying for.
-conversations with your subconscious part i.
i.
Swan had a terrible habit of putting things in his mouth, pens, straws, fingers and it drove Skov up the wall.
He was currently swirling a blue pen lid with his tongue, his brows knitted together slaving over some questions. They were suppose to be studying and Swan was, oblivious to the boy across the dorm room studying him. But Skov couldn’t help himself, he had a bad habit of watching people when they weren’t aware they were being watched. He liked seeing them, walls down, completely at ease. Jiang hummed to himself when we was concentrating on something, K had a twitch and Proko liked to play invisible instruments with his fingers, always making soundless music on tiny piano’s in his mind, his foot tapping on a drum kit no one else could see. But Swan, Swan had the most annoying habit of all, not being able to keep his tongue in his mouth. Seriously the kid needed to be gagged.
Skov was convinced Swan knew what he was doing, dragging the end of the pen across his lower lip, tapping it against his teeth. He licked and sucked his lip, tongue lapping at the side of his mouth while he tapped a beat against the textbook in front of him. Skov adjusted himself on his bed watching the sunlight around the blonde boy.
Swan had swapped his pen for his hand, pulling his lower lip between his thumb index finger, twisting it this way and that, settling with thumb nail between his bottom teeth. His eyes darted back and forth reading the words on the page, his leg bounded up and his goddamn tongue would not just stay in his mouth.
Skov huffed, rising from his side of the room taking long strides to get to Swan’s. Slamming his textbook closed Swan looked up at him his green eyes tinged with yellow in the light. The dark haired boy, grabbed at the blonde’s lips with his, pulling him up off his chair as it clattered to the floor. They tripped and tumbled onto the bed, Swan’s head hitting the pillow as Skov came crashing down on him. He laugh and sighed pulling at Skov’s top.
“You looked like you could’ve used a break.” Swan chuckled against him, mmmhmm-ing into his mouth, pulling Skov closer.
(my life has become a meaningless pile of filthy trash) and i’m taking ronanlunchandprinceabernathy down with me
Swan was buzzed, as is always the way at K’s parties, Skov was always more than buzzed just as a general rule. The two boys stumbled their way outside, the inside too crowed and the pool area too loud they fumbled their way to the front of the house. Skov’s back hit the cool black of someone’s car, he was too focused on the blonde boys mouth on his. The way the boy’s mouth moved was heavenly the right amount of tender and hunger, nipping and sucking. Moans escaped his mouth as the boy moved to his throat, his collarbone, biting down on his shoulder, “fuck S, ease up on the cannibalism”
He lived by one rule; no one called him Joseph, unless they had a death wish. But rules were made to be broken. [also on AO3]
stopparrysh putting k’s fingers into swan’s mouth 2k14
as you wish
(i feel like this needs a trigger warning of some kind if you don’t like gratuitous sexualization of violent acts just steer clear) (also i’d like to formally apologize to swan for liking to handcuff him to things and to my mother who raised me better than this) (and for the possibly ooc k who really just wants people to need him ‘cause he’s a store bought gansey)
forfuckingkavinsky she bet me to it, but consider this a spin-off? prologue?? to blow for blow
He’d thought about it once or twice, sitting in latin class watching the boy rub his hands over his shaved head. School tie around his neck loose, showing off the black ink on his back. That was enough of a reason to want Ronan Lynch naked, to see it in all it’s glory, to run his fingers over it. But that wasn’t Swan’s only reason, or even his first reason. Fucking off Kavinksy, that was his reason, lately it had been the reason he did a lot of things. There was a possibility Swan also wanted to turn K on, but he clung too tightly to his hate for it to be a big possibility.
this was suppose to be a short submission to ronanlunch but then it got long and i got sad
[throws sad things at you runs away] (sadder when you listen to ‘running up that hill’ -placebo)
The barbecue had died down and K was trying to find something to occupy his time till sleep found him. Proko found him first. He found him sprawled in the backseat of his car, blasting some trashing russian music with too much bass. Proko watched K, his eyes shut, head against the window, exhaling smoke. Proko didn’t bother tapping on the window, he just got in.
K didn’t stir, sometimes Proko thought he could just sense him around. He wondered if that was a thing all dreams and dreamers had in common or it was something they had before. He didn’t really remember before, he didn’t really want to. Proko only knew the now and right now Kavinsky was beating himself up for something that was never his fault. Swan would say K was taking advantage of Proko treating him like shit, but he didn’t understand, none of them did. Proko was the ghost that haunted K, but Proko knew he’d also be his salvation, if K let him.
(Forfuckingkavinskyandronanlunch)
It was a rare thing the boys went to a party that wasn’t in Henrietta, but they’d roadtripped up to see Nika in the break. Five boys in Swan’s Jeep, they had earned a night of debauchery, and boy did they take full advantage of it.
(i tried to make this fit in the ask, oh did i try) (also this is really hard to write with your sidebar looking at me like that) (diego please stop)
If Swan wasn’t a little preoccupied he’d find it amusing how easy it was to get Ronan half naked.
All it took was a popsicle-raspberry if he was being specific-and a couple of looks across the dining hall. Swan’s pink stained lips moving over the phallic shaped icicle, taking very deliberate and slow licks-Jiang eyed him over his mythology text book- he winked as he bit down on the dripping ice, syrup leaking out of the sides of his mouth as he smiled at Ronan. The boy stormed off. He wasn’t hard to find, he was in the first bathroom Swan looked in. His hands were braced on the sink, head bowed down.
But Swan was preoccupied. He was trying to get the good catholic boy to curse his god for him, using only his mouth. He’d gotten a beautiful melody of profanities to spill out of Ronan’s mouth, but none were the words he was looking for. Swan dug his fingers deeper into the flesh of the boy’s ass, taking him deeper in his mouth, sucking harder as he pulled back. He bit down just lightly when he reached the tip, flicking his tongue at the same time.
“Jesu-fucking-christ.” Ronan’s hand reaching up gripping the door of the stall they were in.
Bingo. Swan pulled away just slightly-ronan made a sad sound-“Well aren’t you a good little Catholic boy Lynch.” Ronan grabbed a handful of Swan’s blonde hair, pushing his mouth back down his shaft, thrusting his hips. Swan laughed around his cock, Ronan’s hands tightened in his hair, his lips parted to form the most beautiful O-shape.
