and this little bit is amazing

When you wake them up with a Blow Job

@gukexpress asked: Hello Admin Chimin, could I have a reaction of BTS when their gfs waking them up with a blowjob? 

 Hey I really hope you like it! Smut isn’t my forte so please forgive me. And Hey! Request your little hearts out. Admin Jungbooty does brilliant smut scenarios, Admin Peach🐯  does AMAZING angst and fluff scenarios and I do okay-ish reactions. - Admin Chimin


Rap Monster: He would stir in his sleep once your tongue touched the tip with occasional groans slipping from his mouth. Once you actually started to bob your head, his eyes would open a bit and his hand would find your hair to grip onto. The sight of you only making him harder.

“Couldn’t wait could we?”

Originally posted by rapnamu

Jin: I imagine him being very vocal he would moan and groan a LOT, when you were doing the deed he would thrust up into your mouth causing you to gag a bit. 

“You’re such a good girl”

Originally posted by jjilljj

Suga: Let me tell you, he knew exactly what you were doing once you shuffled down the bed, you thought you didn’t wake him up but…you did making the mistake with your hair brushing against his face. As soon as your mouth wrapped around his cock he grabbed your hair and guided your head with his hands, moving up and down.

“Just like this baby”

Originally posted by talk-me-down-troye

J-hope: This little sunshine wouldn’t know whats going on until he actually cummed. Through out the whole sexual actions he would moan and move slightly, “Oh Y/n” he would mumble. Once it was done he would wake up and realise what just happened.

“Your turn now”

Originally posted by bangtanroyalty

Taehyung: Him having a deep voice you could hear his grunts from a mile away, I see him waking up immediately and groaning even louder. Playfully pushing you off the bed and onto your knees, he slowly undresses to tease you even more. Once you wrap your mouth around him, he cannot shut up.

“Get on your knees”

Originally posted by taedamn

Jimin: He would be like Suga, awake when you have him in your mouth. He would thrust up into you making you moan as you did it, only causing him to get harder

“Fuck Baby!”

Originally posted by kpopidolaegyooo

Jungkook: He would play games with you, He would try and tease you also. He would undress you as you were doing the deed making you wetter by the minute. After you were done, like J-hope he would start to pleasure you.

“c’mere beautiful”

Originally posted by purelyjimin

anonymous asked:

duuuuude zach werenski is a BEEFY BOY. SWOLE AF and dylan LOVES it. dylan's strength isn't anything to sneeze at, but he loves how big zach feels when he holds himself over dylan and pins him down with all that muscle. he can't help but to kiss and bite at zach's muscles while they're screwing around or even while they're cuddling bc zach's thickness is just so amazing and dylan can't help but to worship it, even just a little bit

I always called him beak boy but I guess he’s also beef boy now. They probably start out playing around in D-Boss’s basement, playing ball hockey or whatever, and it starts out innocent but they start grappling with each other when one of them cheats, or when the chirping gets to be too much. Zach manages to pin Dylan to one of the walls (and Dylan maintains that he let him, bc Zach couldn’t do it that easily if Dylan were really resisting). And then they make out because why play ball hockey when you can make out instead

If imma be honest the ending made me a bit mad. Like if they ended it with just Mona locking those asshats up the character development would have been amazing. Dont get me wrong amazing final, loved the character development, loved every aspect of the show, but the parrel crap had me a bit mad.

Before i end this i just want to say thank you to all the cast, producers, and everyone that took apart in the show and made this completely and beautifully amazing. This show will go down with me forever. Thank you.

alpacalypticpotatoes  asked:

Holy crap I just realized you're the one that wrote The Boiling Point on ao3 and that is literally my favorite smut fic ever like I can't even tell you how many times I've read it! I really hope you continue writing fics as amazing as that one and all the other beautiful ones you've written! <3

The Boiling Point? You mean one of the most self-indulgent fics I’ve ever written?? Haha. I’m glad you liked it. Writing it was certainly fun.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

If you’re looking for more writing from me in that.. uh.. genre, there’s a little bit of smut in Forget Me Not (it’s primarily plot-oriented though and the sexual content is light). Want something new? Great news!! The big story I’m working on right now, Strange Aeons, is heading towards a scene that I thiiink you will like. Wink wink. WINK. No, but seriously…. I am really, really excited to write this scene. >:) I can’t tell you how close we are to it in the story, because that’ll spoil plot things. But I guarantee you it will be the best sex scene I have EVER written, hands down. It’ll make The Boiling Point look like finger-paint next to a Monet.

a lot of skam questions
okay!! gashii aka @bakksana tagged me in this and i screamed when i saw, it’s amazing, thank you, boo!! 💕 i’m gonna put this under the cut because of length

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If the Latino guy is Taylor his bond with raven would be A1 and she would help Alex with convincing clexa that he is an amazing guy and that latinos always know how to treat their lady 😏 (can you tell I'm a little bias?)

Yeah idk what  on earth possibly gave me the idea that you might be, just a tiny bit in favor of the latino bf idea lol 

Life’s been a bit messy. But we’ll get better <3 

I Found Love - Lance for you :) I got inspired to draw for our fic today.
Don’t worry, it will be continued, it just might take a little while longer :) Please give @seabreezy all the love. They did an amazing job with this story (and all their other stories) I might draw the art for IFL but all the writing is their work and I am very thankful to be able to work with them on this incredibly sweet fan fiction. 

Be patient with this story :) It will be worth it <3

Dear Self,

I know how you’ve been feeling today. Your life feels empty, and the sad truth is that you have nobody to blame for anything that’s happened . Unlike most people, you haven’t blamed yourself, because you know that you have done everything in your capacity to make things work, to make things happen. I know how ambitious you are, and you do everything you need to do to make your parents proud, to make them happy again. You have no one to share your pain with. Mainly since your pain isn’t because of some tragic accident or loss of life, neither is it because of a sappy breakup or a nasty flu.

But you can feel your true self breaking down a little bit more with every passing day. There’s so much you want to do and so much you want to achieve and you know that you have it in you, yet it’s always a dead end.

You look back in time and see a different version of yourself, someone you can’t recognize now. You have no idea how to define yourself any more. You were a social maniac and have always found yourself the most comfortable among people, lots and lots of people, friends, foes, family, strangers and you managed to plant a seed of memory into everyone you’ve ever met.

Now you’re uncomfortable to be around people, you repel even making a healthy eye contact with someone passing by. I know you aren’t scared or tense to interact with them - to ask how they’re doing, but you’ve lost the urge to make bonds anymore.

You’ve met all kinds of people, seen through each one of them but you’ve realized that no matter how well you know and understand them, you walk right into a boulder beyond which you cannot see, beyond which you know there’s a spot where all their weaknesses lie, and you peek between the brick walls and recoil back - you have seen the ugly side.

This side of them is nasty and no matter what is said or done following it, you’ve lost your trust, you just can’t go back to square one all over again. You know you can never be the same with them again. And as you walk away from them, you know they’ve taken off a small chunk out of you. These chunks total up to the whole of you and you lose yourself running away from them. You cannot risk losing anymore. So you walk alone, and everyday you die a little more.

You now focus on the few people you trust and you’d do anything for them. I know very well how greatly you suck at expressing your love towards these people, somehow you feel that if you reveal it to them you’ll lose the love you have for them, they’re eager and hope to hear it from you. Your family wants to hear you say that you love them. But you just cannot, because you’ve never learned how to. You’ve never told anyone confidently the way they show it movies, to confess love. You love them too much, it’s scary to say it out loud. But you show it in ways nobody ever does.

You have your own weird ways, only if they could listen. Only if they could listen when you scream at them and cry out of guilt the very next moment, when you swear at them now and internally curse yourself next, when you ignore them because you do not want to say you’re sorry, when you plan big to see them happy, when you struggle to smile even as you’re dying inside only so that they don’t sense your sadness.

You are scared to express that you are vulnerable and you are scared to admit that you are scared. You prefer to be an emotionless robot to them, because you’ll never be able to prove how much you really care. They distance themselves from you naturally, and again, you die a little bit inside.

But you know you’re amazing at being a lioness when you want to, your wounds make you stronger and that’s how you like seeing yourself - a lioness on the hunt. And you walk with all your pride as you walk by the people that you’d rather have by your side, again you die a little inside, yet you walk alone with all your pride.


Loads of Love,
Self.

- J.E.M

Honestly actors need more appreciation. Sometimes they can make their characters so real it’s hard to imagine them as someone else. I have to remind myself that these people aren’t real, and their little quirks and movements aren’t their own.

Every time Dean and Castiel stared at each other for a little to long? Jensen and Misha.

Every time John Laurens looked at Hamilton with a bit to much affection? Anthony Ramos.

Every time the Doctor’s happy face slipped a little? Matt Smith, Chrisopher Eccleston, David Tennant, or Peter Capaldi.

Every time Sherlock seemed a little more human? Barginbin Cuddlesnot.

Every time Evan’s anxiety disorder became real to us? Ben Platt.

They’re so good at their job it’s amazing the thought that goes into their characters that might only show up for one episode.

At this very moment,
I just wanted to reach out to you, grab you by the hand, and wish you a lovely evening.
You have done an amazing job today,
And you will continue to do an amazing job for many tomorrows.

As for tonight, rest easy.
Breathe.
Allow your worries to wash away.
If you’d like, feel free to stay a while;
To reflect, to relax, and to speak your thoughts to me.

I hope that I’m able to help even in the smallest of ways. Even if it’s minuscule.

So please, take the next little bit to take care of yourself, both physically and mentally.

star-anise  asked:

PLEASE talk about the kind of shit Bitty and Tater would get up to without Jack or someone more level-headed there to restrain them.

lisTEN Tater and Bitty have like, not a single impulse control between the two. Oftentimes people get fooled by Bitty’s politeness, need for a clean kitchen, and preference for people not to spit on the ground (LOOKING AT YOU, NURSEY, YOU GROSS COLLEGE BOY) and think, this is a reasonable and level headed young man! they are wrong. 

Tater: B! What if I get huge soda bottles, big ones, and shake them. 

Bitty: D: that makes it go flat though, do you not like the fizz?

Tater: *shakes his head* No, no. I strap them onto me and shake them and then BOOM! I fly. 

Bitty: Hmm, I don’t think so…

Tater: :((((((

Bitty: You’re too gosh darn heavy! Strap it on me! 

Tater: :DDDDDDDD


Tater: B! B! Guess what!

Bitty: I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?

Tater: *shows a picture* new motorcycle! I see it, I like it, now it’s mine!

Bitty: *fans himself really hard because he LOVES those bikes* oh dear

Tater: You one of my best friend. First person I ask to ride with me. 

Bitty: Mister Tater! I am delighted and honored! 

And then they proceed to ride the motorcycle WITHOUT A HELMET until they get pulled over by a cop, and tater’s telling the story to the team later and jack hyperventilates because HIS BOYFRIEND WAS ON A MOTORCYCLE WITHOUT A HELMET.


One day jack walks into the kitchen to find Tater with tears streaming down his very red face as Bitty feeds him pieces of what looks like mini pie and asking “how about this? is this spicy enough?” 

“I’m feel dying and my soul return to heaven. Not enough. Do more.” 


Tater: What I’m be for Halloween? Has to be sexy. 

Bitty: Haha what about a stripper

They look at each other and an electrical moment passes between them

Tater: I’m go shave my legs now!!! 

Bitty: Yes you do that and I’m going online right NOW to find the perfect costume!!! 

Tater: WHY THIS RAZOR SO SHARP??

Bitty: here let me shave you! 

And then when Tater’s practicing his routine, he routinely asks Bitty whether it’s sexy enough. He’s not doing it very close to Bitty (bc Bitty’s personal space expands when there’s stripping involved by ppl other than jack)

Tater: Weird to ask Jack, you know. He my teammate.

Bitty: I completely understand, and oh dear this is making me blush! *giggles* 

Tater: *performs another body roll*

Bitty: *giggles* 


That one time Bitty went to the hospital because Tater thought it would be a funny prank to empty out a windex bottle and pour blue gatorade in it so Bitty can shock everyone, but someone accidentally switched the bottle so Bitty drank a mouthful of actual windex. 


I feel like Tater’s like the one person who finally convinced Bitty to try weed? Like in the sense that Tater’s never tried it because the fear of his parents is strong, and Bitty’s only had contact high before and never bothered with actually trying it himself. And Tater is curious bc it seems like a lot of the college athletes are high and he wants to try! And Bitty because oh well, if you want to try it I’ll do it too! 

They chose a time during the off season, so that Tater won’t get in trouble. And Bitty makes the most delicious weed brownies in existence. And then Tater promptly forgets that they’re weed brownies and eat wayyyy too much and Bitty’s too high to deal with him and Jack comes home to two grown men giggling over his couch. (Tater’s okay, bitty made sure not to bake too much.) 


That one time Tater wrenched his shoulder dabbing with Bitty on the ice. 


When Bitty was super drunk and Tater handed him a banana and Bitty deepthroated it in front of everyone and then promptly choked and almost died. 


That time they were lighting fireworks with their bare hands and didn’t get injured at ALL. 


Georgia had to give a little talk to Jack about how tater and bitty should never be left alone, and maybe Jack can thirdwheel some of their hangouts a little bit more?

Jack: I’m the one dating Bitty, you know. 

Georgia: He’s an amazing person, but I also need his friendship with Tater to change into something less life threatening. 

it’s only day 1, but i’m ready to conclude that NCT really outdid it this era. The description SM gave of this comeback is living up to itself so far, and I’m so impressed. the creativity is astonishing. the individual teasers? the cute little 8-bit game on the website? the overall visual concept?? its all so unique and honestly that’s how you do it boys and girls. like SM may be a shitty company, but their concepts… always amazing. they really know how to draw attention, and this era… I may be speaking to soon but… this is NCT’s era for sure 

4

YOI Future!Verse ABO AU, Visual Headcanon Web Charts #01

So I always wanted to make one of these. Turns out my headcanons for the most part are WAY too wordy for these things and uh, they’re a bit of a mess >.>;; BUT I hope nonetheless that they’re somewhat fun to read even if barely legible, it was fun to make ^ ^;

1. Super basic relationship chart of the core members of the lovely poly family in this AU.

2. “Adults Think,” the color of each adult indicates their feelings towards the person to whom the arrow is pointing.

3. “Kids Think,” the color of each OC kid indicates their feelings towards the person to whom the arrow is pointing.

There’s obviously a lot more to it than what could be crammed in the lil text boxes, but a gist and pretty much the first things that immediately popped into my mind regarding their interactions. 2 and 3 also mostly show their thoughts while the kids are younger, which will change a bit as they grow up, to be covered in a future post.

*Recommended you right click view image to see full size bc the text is tiny oops

Because the text is so illegible, text only versions of charts 2 and 3 beneath cut, all elaborated quite a bit because I’m so rambly oops:

~~

IF YOU ARE NEW TO THIS AU: It’s Yuuri-centric polyamory in an ABO setting, Yuuri’s married to four mates (Victor, Yurio, Phichit, Minami) and they have OC kids.

BASICS of this AU

INTRO to how ABO works in this AU

OTHER POSTS (comics + illustrations) in the Future!Verse ABO section of my YOI Masterpost.

~~

Please keep ship bashing out of the comments/tags. Don’t like, just skip <3 Thank you.

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. More detailed rules available on my Rules & FAQ Post.

~~

Keep reading

knees knocking, blood flowing, so i want you to know (that i want to)

i have been lurking on your blog since you made it, and you’ve just lightened up my days so much and gotten me back into writing (after a horrendously long drought). so, i wanted you to read this. because you’ve been such a huge inspiration. i hope it’s not too broody!

It starts: with him, face down on the bed, at two in the morning. Even’s breathing close by. The radiator is snapping. Those are the only sounds in the apartment, apart from the ever distant rumbles of traffic further out. It’s just enough sound to let it happen; to let the thought be heard and take root, weave its way between his neurons until it’s not going anywhere, no matter how he tries.

It’s not too foreign. It happens a lot – this spiraling thing he has going on. Thoughts wearing a groove in his mind until he ends up tongue-tied and frozen dead in his tracks. Usually it’s unpleasant; something he wishes he could get rid of. Not necessarily the thought, but the process of getting stuck. It’s one of those characteristics, (– along with the jealousy, selfishness, insecurity, abundant cowardice –) that he really doesn’t like about himself too much.

But this. This is different. Really, it’s just a thought.  It doesn’t feel so bad to think it.  He’s just surprised at himself. A bit proud, even, for going there. Acknowledging it.

At first, anyway.

It’s another thing when it starts to crystallize, becoming real – not just a liquid deliberation, but a solid want. And the more he lets it ( – starts analyzing how when why now? – ) the more something tightens up inside, like a knot tying up his throat and something cold settling in the depth of his stomach.

He swallows, turning onto his back and staring into the ceiling of his room; someone else’s floor.

Nothing is awkward anymore.

Well, that’s a lie. Nothing outward is awkward. But words in the mind are different from the words said. Even when the whole world has been tipped on its head ( – as it tends to when your boyfriend have a brain that’s a little faster and sadder than mosts and you find out in the worst possible way; leaving you scared out of your mind and gasping frigid air – ) you still think in the same ways, stuck in the same grooves, just with your head a bit higher; eyes focused ahead rather than down.

A bit more objective, perhaps.

Still. Shame that has had time to take root just doesn’t go away overnight. It lingers in the smallest ways, even when he tries to fight them off. Lingers in the way he still turns his head when Even wants to kiss him in the street; in the way he still has to convince himself that it’s okay to smile and enjoy dorky things, in how he still sometimes has a prepared excuse on the tip of his tongue to let go of, in how he can never really relax when they’re not around friends –

He was getting better. Is. But here’s the thing: at two am, without someone to remind him that it’s okay, that’s it’s alright to feel, the good and the bad ( – that it goes up and down, is a process, and that he too should take it minute by minute, you’ve got to be kind to yourself, Isak – ) old patterns tend to repeat themselves, simply in new constellations (– feeling shame about feeling shame in the first place; a layering process, a spiraling thing, the same emotion to the second fucking power –)

Isak bites his lip, releasing it when he tastes blood. His face is so hot he can hear the rush of blood in his ears: turning his head into an echochamber until it’s all clamouring so loud he can barely breathe.

Turning onto his side again, he sees the vulnerable skin on Even’s neck. Smiles. An old part of him tell him he shouldn’t want to, how could anyone, but god, he does. He really does.

Closing his eyes to shut out the noise, he listens to Even’s slow breaths, halfway muffled by the blue pillow, turning into gentle snores. Isak presses his nose into the back of the (his, because even if you can’t own people, Even is his – ) shirt, and pulls his sleeping body closer. Even doesn’t wake; he just lets out a long exhale, and Isak can hear his heartbeat through his back, smell his warmth, feel how solid he is; safe for now.

He goes back to sleep.


Fact: Isak’s always been curious.

Ever since they got sat beside each other because of their surnames, Jonas has been the speculative of them. He’s known things – or claimed that he did – by simply putting two and two together; figuring them out the hermeneutic way. He’s smart in that old school philosophical way that lends itself to making self-reflection and self-improvement an instinctual thing.

Isak, on the other hand, always wants to know more, and how. When he doesn’t know, he seeks out an answer. From sources – books or newspapers or the internet. Scours through page after page until he can puzzle together a picture from facts.

However, that’s regarding worldly things. Things others can tell him about; tell him if it’s right or wrong, even if those concerns started out as private thoughts only for him to mull over. They’re things he can research, and then apply to the real world. Sure, he has done it with private things too ( – sad, embarrassing midnight searches, sleepless Saturdays spent reading and so much before it searching for clue to prove it wasn’t true – ) and about all and anything.

Lately, though, he can’t. This is, while a curiosity and ignorance he wishes to solve, also something else. He can read about it, sure, but ultimately, no text, no explanation nor story –  

No words can explain how something feels unless you’ve already felt it.

Even’s staying over for the third day in a row now; sitting crossed-legged on the floor by the foot of the bed as he types away at one assignment or another. Tapping his pen against his text book, Isak gives up reading the same paragraph about bimolecular nucleophilic substitution reactions for the fifth time. Even’s got his headphones in, the light from the bedside lamp highlighting those lighter streaks in his hair. He cut it recently, and it’s still coming back into its own; the shorn edges still coarse when Isak drags his fingers through it.

With his always working senses, all six of them, Even must realize that Isak’s watching him. He turns, tipping his head backwards, sly smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Taking an undeserved break?”

Isak kicks him, lightly. “No,” he says, but he’s smiling so Even just laughs and grabs his ankle before letting go.

“Go back to reading then, or I’ll go home.”

“Why?”

“Because I promised not to kiss you until you were done with that chapter. And I’m not staying the night if I can’t kiss you. That would be impossible.”

“Fine,” Isak grumbles, but takes up his book again and stretches his leg out .

Even takes him up ( – so attentive it’s ridiculous and he makes it seem so easy why is it so hard – ) on the unspoken invitation and slouches down a bit to lean his head against Isak’s shin; a familiar, safe weight.

It takes a while to get into the rhythm of the text, he does manage to finish the chapter, even though he’ll probably have to re-read it to get it all. But not tonight. He puts his book down . Even’s once again engrossed in his writing, the rhythm of keys soothing, so Isak rolls over in the bed and puts his chin on folded arms.

“Have you ever broken a bone?”

Even frowns for a moment, then he sighs. “Yeah. Wrists and collar bone. My toe when I fell out the window that time.”

It’s not awkward now that he knows the best reaction is no reaction when Even decides to share something from his episodes. It’s all Isak needs, really. Some sort of guideline, and then he’s good to figure it out on his own.

“You’ve never done that?”

Isak frowns. “No?”

“Not even skating? Lucky.”

Even smiles with his whole face and wow, Isak loves him so much. So glad to have him. All of him. Looking down at the duvet, he asks, “What does it feel like?”

Tipping his head back, Even holds the thought for a bit. Then he says, “Like losing the love of your life.”

He says it completely serious, because he’s utterly ridiculous and Isak can’t do anything but roll his eyes. It’s fond though and Even just laughs so Isak swats at him. He dodges easily, clearly even more amused as he grabs Isak’s wrist to keep him from swatting again.

Naturally, things go south from there pretty quickly, and they end up side by side, panting from the impromptu wrestling match ( – which it was, through and through, just playing, being close and physical but not intimate in that way and it’s so long since he’s had that, but with Even he can and it’s the best feeling in the world – ) staring into the ceiling, Isak’s hand resting on Even’s ribcage.

It moves gently with his breathing, loud in this small room.

“I’m serious, though,” Isak says softly. “How does it feel?”

Even is quiet for a long while, and by know he must know that this is really about something else. But, he’s so patient, and says, “It’s searing. Almost as when you poke a bad bruise too hard, mixed with that sharpness of a paper cut. But it lasts forever?”

“Forever?”

Even cracks an eyes open, and then nuzzles close ( – smelling so good, it’s incredible how someone can smell so good, so warm and safe and human –) so that their noses touch.

“It feels like forever. Until it heals.”


It continues: March is dreary, cold and misty. Isak pulls down the makeshift curtain ( – a blanket, let’s call it what it is – ) to let some light in. To make it easier to wake up in the morning; make it easier to get out of a warm bed into a draughty room, knowing that Even can just turn over and go back to sleep since he’s got study hall first period on Fridays.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, a finger hooks into the back of his shorts; the elastic snapping back lower than earlier when he spins around. Even looks at him from under the duvet, eyes thin slits, his lips forming unintelligible words until they stretch into one of his smiles.

“Morning, handsome.”

Isak just gives him a look. “Don’t be smug.”

Even’s smile brightens, and he reaches out again; a long arm and a warm, big hand curling around Isak’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. A bad one, tasting of morning breath and placed half on his chin, but isn’t that a testament of everything when it’s still good?


Fact: lying on top of the covers, just kissing is the best thing in the world.

It’s finally good. It wasn’t always. With Even though, it’s so good. Feels safe and right in a way it never did before (– he’s just right; right height, right shape, right smell, right everything – ). Also: the way he doesn’t assume, but stays in tune, senses working, always, to make sure to check what Isak wants, not acknowledging but neither forgetting how much two years can be in terms of experience; how some things can still be scary, no matter how close you get.

He’s considerate, Even. Dictionary definition.

Still. Isak knows this and yet, he can’t bring himself to ask. He’s thought about for weeks now ( – a thought, call it what it is; want, desire even, what the fuck to even call it when he can’t bring himself to articulate it in his mind – ) and the doubt festers; pulsating at his temples when Even’s hand takes hold under his shirt, fingers dipping and out of the hem of his jeans, making him shiver.

This is so good.

And yet.

Even rolls onto his back; letting Isak hover over him as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. And it is. It should be. Isak’s seen him more vulnerable than this (– seen him all but flayed open at this point – ) and yet, it’s still remarkable how easy he makes it look. It makes the contrast between them even more stark. Isak wishes he too could relax like that; settle into himself instead of being a haze around the edges, not knowing where he starts or ends or where his contours even are. He’s gotten better at it: knows where they are when he’s with the boys, mostly when he’s alone, but always when Even’s arms are around him, caging him in, forming him into something he wants to be – what he is.

When he’s alone, it fluxuates. He’s more relaxed now, sure, but it’s still a process.

( – you’ve got to be kind to yourself, Isak, demand things, you’re not a burden I promise – )

Something pulls within; esophagus and stomach in two opposite directions and a lattice laces behind his eyes.

He pulls away.

Even doesn’t follow. Instead, he pushes Isak’s fringe out of his eyes, smiling up at him slightly as he searches for something. “Would you rather do something else?” he asks, a joke hanging in the air when he doesn’t find it.

It nearly makes Isak stiffen; damage control ready to engage, the false explanation ready at the tip of his tongue. Even’s hands are still down the back of his jeans, but there’s a small frown forming between his eyebrows. He knows that Even knows something is up with him, (– but he trusts him enough to let him spill on his own terms and isn’t that just heartbreaking when all Isak wants is for him to just ask so he can spill – )

He knows he’s diverting; Even knows it too. Yet, he doesn’t push.

He’s patient. Dictionary definition.

Isak doesn’t even wish he could be; he just wants to be able to speak his mind, always. Screw this process thing: he’s ready to be done.

Even’s eyes stays on his; silently asking, and Isak can’t, not really, but he makes himself.

“I want to know how it feels.”

It’s soft, cowardly, and cryptic. But blood is rushing in his ears, and his pulse is ticking at his wrists.

At first, Even’s eyes widen. It’s a small thing, and for a second, Isak fears that Even still thinks this is about bones ( – wouldn’t that be just perfect though, something to laugh at, you’ve got to lighten up – ), but then he reaches up again, cradling Isak’s face in his hands.

“You sure?”

Isak closes his eyes, and nods. “Yeah.”

“Now?”

Isak doesn’t answer, words lodged in his throat. Instead, he leans down to kiss Even again, softly and containing the full one word he should say out loud, but can’t. Instead, he lets Even take his upper lip between his own, and it’s such a simple thing, but it sends something warm through him, from head to toe. Not frantic, but just a simple that’s pleasant that has him press his tongue against Even’s just to be close to him.


It resolves: him, face down on the bed. Even’s big hand is steady on his shoulder, minding the pimples that hurt when touched. The other is curled around his hip.

“This is all about you,” he whispers, lips brushing against Isak’s neck, breath warm and soothing behind his ear, over his throat.

He nods, cheek rasping against the pillow case. “I know,” is all he can say, barely audible. If Even asks one more time, he won’t be able to speak; his throat tight with nerves even though he should be – is –  relaxed, should show and not just say how he does want this so badly. Wants to be so close to Even it can’t be undone, despite it being scary.

He can feel Even’s breath on his neck, making the hairs on his arms stand up when he starts mouthing at his neck; the skin behind his ears, the topmost know of his spine ( – the same place where he left his first hickey on Even, the exact same spot – ).

“A little bit about me too, but that’s just because we’re two about this. Like I can’t fuck you if I’m not here, you know. ”

Isaks’ face heats up. It burns. Still, he manages to laugh a bit, and to turn his head to look at Even. His eyes are soft, a bit worried, perhaps, but he’s smiling now too. He’s making soothing circles on Isak’s lower back, and god, Isak loves him so much.

He swallows, curling his fingers ( – the tension concentrating in those joints, the rest of his body languid, it’s okay, you’ve got the right to be nervous, everyone’s nervous, it’s seriously okay – )

“Mm.”


It resolves: with him, holding on. It’s the only way to describe it. Even’s fingers in between his, and Isak knows he’s squeezing them too hard, tightening his sweaty hold with every shift, but he needs it ( – needs it so bad because he’s on the verge of unspooling, it feels so good, but he should be scared out of his mind from the intensity of it and maybe he is, but something it overshadowing it – )

It doesn’t hurt, like he’d feared. It’s just. Too much.

His breathing is loud even to his own ears, and he’s mouthing at the back of Even’s hand; tasting his skin just to keep himself grounded here, in this moment. It’s barely been a minute, if that, but he knows he could come now. At the same time, it’d be impossible – that feeling being just out of his reach ( – hooked around his lower spine, somewhere, where he knows it’s exact location and could find it, but he doesn’t want to, he wants it to last, because he’s getting what he wanted and asked for and got – )

A hand around his clammy forehead. Even. Of course. Turning his head a bit, just enough to kiss him properly. It forces him deeper inside, and Isak loses his breath to a gasp, because oh that’s good. Fuck it’s good. Finally it’s so so good. Not just enduring, not that it ever was about that. But it’s finally good; because not only his mind but his whole being knows it’s Even. It’s his hand on his, it’s his shorn ends brushing again Isak’s cheek, his mouth kissing him and him inside, so close it would hurt –

If it wasn’t Even.


It ends: with them. Isak catching his breath against Even’s collar bone ( – the broken one apparently, but it’s been set properly – ) and Even drawing light patterns on his back with the tips of his fingers.

“You okay?”

Isak holds him a little tighter, breathes him in. He is okay, he thinks. Simply, a lot to mull over, once again, but in a different light ( how this is certainly only temporary, them that is, in the grand scheme of things, and how it’s both a blessing and a curse, but how now, Even will always be a first because Isak asked for it and got it because he asked – ) and how, in a way, he’ll always be Isak’s, one way or another.

It’s a soothing thought. Or just the endorphins speaking, he doesn’t know.

He nods. “More than.”

Even places a kiss on top of his head, and Isak feels like sleeping. It’s safe enough here ( – doesn’t get safer to be totally honest – ) that he can let it happen. He closes his eyes, listens to Even’s breathing, to the calm stead rhythm of his heart and –

It ends: the spiral up-rooted.