o6 🔥 all that time you thought i was sad

[pillz]

Who: Joseph Kavinsky or Boobvinsky & CR & you
When: April & throughout May, catch-all
Where: Various regions, various chaos, various Kavinskisms.
What: Operation Idiotic Apocalyptic Revenge and Accidentally Falling For Hot Boys & Girls are concurrently underway, under the leadership of one Joseph "I Definitely Know What I'm Doing" Kavinsky. Note that the cut is empty, I just wanted to put more of the Stars' lyrics in here because they're beautiful. Feel free to tag me with a starter of your own!
Warnings: NSFW for explicit sexual content, also Kavinsky is highly offensive (homophobic, racist, sexist comments, harassment, references to past felonies likely); mental health, suicidality often in meta.


as promised there is absolutely nothing here ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Comments

cw joke about prolapse

[pillz]

[that's

not a very bryan thing to say at all, is it? kavinsky is tonguing the small bones of his throat when the other boy speaks. kavinsky's eyes snap open and his jaws go still. he sucks in a deep wet breath, chilling bryan's throat. and then, slowly, he pushes himself up on his skinny arms. looking down at the boy and his beautiful, glossily muscled body spread out on the rumpled sheets. his profile, because bryan's head is turned away.]

What, [he says. his voice is deliberately and probably unconvincingly chipper, thin chest still heaving with exertion.] You don't wanna go for round two? I can check if you're scared I turned it inside out--

[corrective]

[Normally, he'd enjoy this part of sex with Kavinsky. When he was all soft, spread out over or under him, showing what Bryan usually interpreted for some kind of affection - a few kisses, currently the way he's tonguing his throat. Normally, he'd fall asleep here until they were ready for round two or they found something else to do. It was nice.

What happened wasn't and he needed time to wrap his head around it.]

Just get off, would you? [Bryan tries to tilt his hips back, but there's nowhere to go and he doesn't want to hurt himself.] I think I'd know if you did.

[He tips his head back then, looking up at Kavinsky. Bryan doesn't try to hide that he's upset.]

[pillz]

[kavinsky's eyes go flat. then sharpen again. thinking, processing, a piranha making sense of vibrations and salty scents in the water. he's no stranger to people being uncomfortable with him, hating him, wanting him, wanting him even though they hate him, shit like that. somehow, it's different to see the sulk spreading through bryan's sex-tired body, sloping his handsome brow, changing the grind of his voice.

kavinsky rolls his hips back, rocking his cock out of the warm little home it'd made for himself. he twists his mouth into a sneer, walking his skinny knees off the boy. he swings into a sit, starts to work off the condom on his thing, thinking cruel and stupid thoughts, now, that maybe he shouldn'tve bothered. it'd serve bryan right to shit jazz for a day. maybe even catch something. kavinsky is a petty and awful little animal.]

That'll do, pig.

[this is bryan's last chance to get with the pretending everything is fine. kavinsky slaps the side of his ass.]

[corrective]

[Bryan chews his lower lip, acutely aware that Kavinsky's thinking about what happened. His breathing picks up, an annoyed and frustrated ticktap building behind his eyes. He winces when the other boy pulls out and christ, he wants to kiss that sneer off his lips. He could do it, too. Kiss him until he goes all pliant and pretty again. Let them both forget about it. He shifts to his side, briefly hiking his knees towards his chest to curl in on himself. It's a brief respite.

Rolling his eyes, Bryan scoots to the edge of the bed and drops his legs off. There's an ache in the small of his back and his shoulders tense as he pushes of his knees to stand.

He bends to grab his pants, roughly shoving his legs into them. The rest of his clothes he scoops up into his arms, only turning back to quickly grab his device off the table by Kavinsky's bed.]

cries about Bryan's pure soul

[pillz]

[it's not hard for kavinsky to read what's going on, even though kavinsky is generally a bastard who gives few fucks about the emotional experiences of other people. he's terrible at people, but not necessarily at understanding that he hurt them. god knows, he's hurt enough people to have a decent statistical sample size.

the main issue is, he's not going to have more sex tonight.

he rolls over on the bed to watch bryan move. as per usual, the other boy's shoulders are beautiful moving in the light of the room (they always do it with the lights on; that's the rule). the cut of his arms, his shoulderblades, the tiny dimples in the small of his back. kavinsky loves his body. less good: that said body seems to be on its way out the door.

abruptly, kavinsky reaches out. his skinny fingers snap shut around the other boy's arm like a viper. nothing that bryan can't break out of, but insistent.]

What the fuck is your problem?

[corrective]

[Bryan tugs at Kavinsky's grip, but not hard enough to pull out of it at first. He does and doesn't want to do this right now. If they talk about it, maybe they can figure out where to go from here, but Bryan isn't sure he wants to stop being mad so damn fast.]

What the fuck is yours?

[He pulls back, twisting and yanking until his hand slides free as his other angrily smacks down on top of his phone.]

I'm leaving. [It's on the tip of his tongue to tell Kavinsky not to follow him, but he's not sure that he would.] You're an ass, so I'm going home.

[His tongue darts out, his lips suddenly dry, but he's still standing there, looking down at the brunette with a mix of anger and confusion. Bryan knows the reasonable thing to do would be to sit down and tell Kavinsky why he wants to leave. Explain that it was what he'd said and when he'd said it, that it didn't have anything to do with the impromptu choking or the rough sex, because he fucking liked that. He's supposed to be rational but he doesn't want to be.]

[pillz]

[kavinsky sees the conflict in the other boy's eyes. the pain and confusion in there is like the canary in the mineshaft, a mineshaft that one might as well call a soul.

kavinsky has neither canaries nor poison gasses. all that's in him is dead brimstone that promises someday soon to catch on fire. there's nothing alive in him. he stares at bryan and feels scorn in his chest, sensing somewhere that there would be 'the right thing' for him to do, too, if he had a fucking canary of his own, some torment about this, some secret pain to share. but he doesn't. and maybe it bothered him once, that ronan had left him exactly because of this; because there was no lonely song echoing in the bottom of his darkness.]

Don't let the doorknob hit your ass on the way out, [he says.] Unless you got some sanitizer on you or you're gonna keep it lodged in there permanent, for a fucking buttplug. [he smiles at bryan, all teeth and no kindness. pretending that he thinks this is funny.]