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#character x character
cottontears · 1 year
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all i ever wanted, all i ever needed (is here in my arms)
ೃ⁀➷ katniss everdeen x peeta mellark
ೃ⁀➷ summary: pre- epilogue, peeta has nightmares, katniss and him get to know each other(and their bodies) in ways they never had.
ೃ⁀➷ word count: 5.3k+
ೃ⁀➷ a/n: yes this is a tad out of character, yes i do not give a fuck, mommy katniss, and baby boy peeta, what can i say i am a sucker for a femdom and a soft boy. you can thank the hunger games resurgance on tiktok for this. i finally watched the movies after just reading the books twice, and i went straight to a03, and when i could not find what i was looking for, well i went straight for my computer, i hope you get enjoyment out of reading this as i did writing this, and with this post, i am back, and my hiatus has ended, :)
ೃ⁀➷ warnings/ tags: super light dom/sub, first time, oral, cunnilingus, bjs, slighly sub peeta mellark, slightly dom katniss everdeen, pre-epilogue, i read the books a long time ago, soft sex, fluff and smut, nightmares, peeta mellark needs a hug, peeta mellark has nightmares, p in v, hurt/comfort, comfort no hurt, canon compliant, touch-starved peeta, loss of virginity for both parties, peeta is a good boy, praise kink, peeta mellark has a praise kink, dom/sub undertones, subby peeta mellark, super slight breeding kink
ೃ⁀➷ please reblog & leave a comment with your thoughts <3
╰➤ linktree ╰➤ pinterest╰➤ work in a03 ╰➤ requests are open check rules
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katniss usually awoke with the sun. she took note of the darkness as she was yanked from her slumber. 
it was uncommon for katniss to wake up to peeta’s nightmares. 
whimpers escaped his lips, his body trembled and spasmed, and her gut wrenched in sympathy.
katniss wiped the sweat from his brow, kissed his forehead, and did her best to wake him up softly.
arms enveloped her and pulled her towards him.
he burrowed his face in the crook of her neck. his body shook with silent sobs.
katniss ran her hands up and down his back, his grip tight on her body.
she hummed softly.
“i’m here, you are here with me, and we are safe.”
it must have been a particularly bad nightmare, he whimpered and shook, his grip tightening. their limbs tangled.
“you are safe with me, we look out for each other, and we always do. let me look out for you.”
she felt him nod against her.
she ran a hand through his soft hair, sticking to his scalp with sweat.
katniss was always careful with her words, with her affection. but here, in the dark, with a boy who so very clearly loved her in her arms, she felt safe. 
and peeta had always and would always be there for her, she wanted to be there for him too. she wanted him to have comfort, to find comfort in her.
“my beautiful boy, why do you cry?”
sobs wrecked his body. 
katniss just held him, let him soil her nightshirt, and made calming noises from deep in her throat.
slowly, the heaving sobs softened, and his breathing evened. katniss closed her eyes, comforted by his body close to her, and let herself go.
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katniss awoke to a cold bed.
she wrapped herself in a cardigan, her soft pants rustling as she walked down the stairs. the kitchen did not smell like freshly baked bread, so she walked to the garden.
there he was, on his knees, tending the primrose.
“good morning peeta.”
peeta stiffened slightly, he did not turn around to greet her. something was bothering him.
she carefully made her way toward him.
she placed her hands on his shoulders, she keeping quiet. kneading his shoulders. and just existing with him. living, breathing, being with him.
she hummed softly, happy to be keeping him company, but she had been craving meat, it had been some time since her last hunt.
“i am thinking of hunting today, maybe we can cook the catch and invite haymitch to dinner. it’s been a while since we’ve had him.”
peeta relaxed into her touch but stayed quiet.
it was eerie and it was rubbing katniss the wrong way.
she knelt beside him, reached to cup his face and moved him to face her.
his eyes were puffy and red. he had bags under his eyes. he looked, well, he looked haunted.
“peeta…”
he leaned into her touch, closed his eyes, and inhaled her scent.
he nodded, “i’ll bake us something for dinner.”
his voice was rough, all wrong. but she let it go. she would give him some time, maybe it would help, if not… then she would cross that bridge when she got there.
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dinner was an awkward affair. the bread was soft and warm, and the bird’s meat was perfect.
and peeta was his charming self. but something was off. his eyes were duller. haymitch side-eyed katniss, they seemed to understand one another. something was clearly wrong 
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haymitch left with a pointed look. it was quiet as they cleaned. eerily so. 
they did not speak as they went through the motions of their nightly routine. they closed the curtains but left the light on. 
peeta was stiff as he got into bed, his eyes were closed tight. hands curled into fists.
“peeta, what’s wrong? you have been off all day.” her words were soft. barely audible.
he shook his head.
katniss got into bed and sat in front of his torso.
“talk.” 
“sometimes, i just miss my family. they were imperfect, and none of my siblings volunteered for me, but i know they loved me. in their own way. and i- can’t, katniss- sometimes i just can’t deal with the fact that i’m alive, and they are… not.”
katniss hummed, her hand tracing patterns over his hand. his fist loosened, and she intertwined her fingers with his.
“i’m sorry, i-“ peeta sniffed.
“why are you sorry peeta? there was nothing you could do. you were being held, hostage.”
apparently, that was not what he needed to hear. because his head wrenched to the side. 
“where did you go, just now?”
“you love me. real or not real?” his features tightened.
katniss knew it had to cost him to put himself in such a vulnerable position.
she ran her fingers through his soft blond locks.
“real.” she smiled.
peeta’s limbs loosened and he sat up, facing her.
“i love you peeta. i don’t say it enough. but i want you to know.”
“again,” he murmured. his forehead resting against hers.
katniss pulled him into her body, twisting them so that he lay on top of her.
his body caged hers.
they were face to face.
his chest rose and fell in deep pants. 
his pupils were blown open. they pointed straight to her lips.
“i love you. i love you. i love you.”
peeta’s limbs failed him, and his full weight fell onto her. 
katniss instinctively opened her legs for his hips to fit in.
her thighs tightened against his sides.
her arms enveloped his broad back.
he breathed into her neck. her skin broke into goosebumps as his lips whispered over the sensitive flesh of her neck.
katniss ran her hands up and down his back, her nails scraping  his skin softly.
she slid her hands under his nightshirt. touching his soft warm skin.
peeta went stiff, for a second his whole body tightened. they were about to cross a line. and apparently, he was okay with that, because his body loosened up once again, and he gasped against her skin.
his body trembled. “i don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. i don’t want you to feel pressured-“
“peeta, there are no cameras here, it’s just you and me here. i will never do anything i don’t want to do, and i hope the you hold yourself to that too.”
peeta spoke, his voice just above a whisper, “katniss, i want you so bad, i scare myself. i have this need deep in my chest, that yearns for you, and i can’t- i can’t hold it in anymore. i am afraid of scaring you off katniss. it was always real for me, and this feeling only grows and grows, and i feel like i am about to explode. i want to carve this feeling out of me. it is ugly and big, and  i don’t want to taint us with how much i feel. how much i need? i don’t want us to be ruined.”
“you can’t ruin it if it’s us. you could never ruin it peeta.”
“you want me, real or not real?”
katniss smiled, “real.” she reached for the edge of his nightshirt, pulling it up, taking it off.
katniss felt him hardening in the apex of her thighs. she wrapped her legs around his hips, pushing him against her.
he moaned softly. there was only the thin fabric of their night clothes in the way of each other. katniss could feel all of him. she grinned. “peeta mellark, are you not wearing underwear?”
peeta lifted his body slightly, so that his arms caged her head, and his face hovered over hers. his answer came out in pants. “neither are you. you feel so good katniss.” peeta pressed his hardness against her mound and they moaned. “katniss, you feel too good,” he whined. his limbs trembled. 
katniss smiled. anything to take away her boy’s uncomfort.
“change positions with me.”
he was too gone to argue. 
when she had a knee next to each side of him, katniss sat on his length. she placed her palms on his chest, supporting herself, arching her back in pleasure. 
katniss undulated her hips, her eyelids heavy, eyes never straying from his blissed-out face.
the whimpers and unintelligible words that left his mouth were sweet honey to her ears.
she was relentless in her movements. his hands gripped the flesh of her hips. he canted his hips, the heels of his feet, digging into the soft cushion of the bed. his lips were open, inviting.
she traced a thumb over his soft bottom lip, before replacing it with her lips.
“my sweet sweet boy.” katniss pressed hard, rubbing herself against him, needing him to find his pleasure. she got off on his enjoyment. she desired his desire. they were perfect for each other. 
katniss wrapped her hand around his neck, and rubbed his pulse softly with her thumb. she did not know if he would enjoy it, but by his staccato moans, and the jerking of his hips, she knew he did.
“katniss- i can’t- i- oh god~“  peeta pushed her hips down, and thrusted his hips up, his whimpers desperate. his nails digging into the soft flesh of katniss’s hips as he came with a cry.
katniss circled her hips slowly, fascinated by her boy falling apart. his legs shook and shook, and she could tell he was trying to calm his breaths, but he was failing, miserably.
katniss shifted. moving off him. he looked at her nervously. she just hummed and reached for the seam of his pants, he canted his hips, making space for her to pull them off. she threw them to the floor haphazardly. “i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” she reasoned.
peeta just stared his breaths erratic. “breathe peeta, breathe.” her voice was soft, as she turned the lights off, and  got into bed once again. “get into the covers with me peeta.”
“but katniss, you didn’t-“
she smiled and held a finger to his lips. “this was about you, i wanted to be there for you. come on. let’s go to sleep.”
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katniss awoke with the sun shining through a small slit in the curtains.
she closed her eyes and felt, felt peeta’s hand on her breast. she sighed contentedly. her boy’s breaths were deep. she let herself feel him. his body next to her. 
her boy.
her peeta.
he, who got a beating for a girl he barely knew.
who planted a garden for her.
who fell in love with her in school, when she sang when they were six.
who was tortured and hijacked to hate her, yet here he was, loving her again.
who slept with her every night.
he would rather have died so that she could live because he needed her. and he had believed no one needed him. but she did, she needed him.
she could live a hundred lives and never deserve him. but he chose her.
so she would spend whatever time she had showing him that he was loved. he was safe and needed.
she peppered kisses all over his face.
his sleepy smile made her heart pound in her chest.
“good morning peeta.” she kissed his lips softly.
he hummed.
“it is always a good morning, waking up with you.” his cheeks reddened and his smile was so sweet, katniss could not keep herself off him.
she hugged him close and tight.
he grunted out softly. “what’s this for?”
“i love you peeta. god. i love you.”
his intake of breath was sharp and audible. his bare arms wrapped around her waist. her night shirt rose, exposing her torso. they were skin-to-skin.
“what do we have to do today?” katniss murmured, tracing her fingers over his features. she told herself that life was short. and that he loved her. so she let her thoughts awry. 
“nothing urgent, why?” his voice soft from sleep.
“you are such a beautiful boy. i can’t take my eyes off you.” katniss murmured,  her lips stretching in a smile.
katniss felt something hard against her hip.
she grinned. “someone woke up eager.” 
peeta groaned and hid his face in the crook of her neck, embarrassed. 
katniss could not help but remember the delicious sounds of pleasure that fell from his lips.
she reached to palm his erection, his hips jerked and he hissed.
katniss hummed. her thumb making circles on his length.
“katniss.” peeta voiced her name like a plea.
“nothing on this green earth is as beautiful as the sounds you make because of me.
she slid her hand in between his pants and his skin, wrapping her fingers on his warm length for the first time. it felt like home.
his hands gripped her wrist. his breaths deepening. his half-lidded eyes met hers, pupils dilated.
katniss ran her thumb over his leaking tip, peeta’s body shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed, his teeth sinking into his lips.
katniss was having none of that. she twisted her wrist and played around, trying her best to get him to break composure. each swipe of her wrist had his soft noises rising in decibels.
katniss leaned into him, kissing his neck, and he moaned, finally, letting himself go.
katniss’s movements were careful and slow, she took her time to enjoy him, the feel and girth of him. 
“katniss-“ he pleaded.
“use your words peeta, what do you want, my sweet boy?”
his skin was flushed, his breaths coming in and out in deep pants. he shook his head slightly. how cute, he was embarrassed. katniss tightened her grip slightly and stopped her movements. he whined in protest. 
“come on, use your words. this is a safe space, i won’t judge you for anything.”
“i want to… come, please,” he whined softly. 
“alright, my sweet boy. anything for you.”
katniss had always wanted to try something with him, she had talked a bit with johanna about blow jobs
so she shifted their bodies, with peeta sitting against the bed frame, and katniss resting her head on his lap.
“katniss?”
“shh baby, let me try something.”
peeta shuddered at the pet name he was drowning in affection. in katniss’s undivided attention, his heart full to the brim.
katniss experimentally ran her tongue, flat, up his length.
“ahhh~”  his hands grappled for something to hold on to, ending up on her hair. his grip was soft, he tangled his fingers in her hair and just kept them there, neither hindering nor pressuring her movements.
he was perfect and patient, taking whatever she gave him without complaint. greatful for her love. 
his eyes fluttered closed, his hips jerking softly as he chased his pleasure. 
katniss could not take her eyes away from him even if she tried. 
her boy deserved everything good she had to offer, he had suffered enough. katniss teased him, delaying his peak, swirling her tongue around his tip. 
“please, katniss-“ the way he spoke her name had her core clenching. she enveloped him with her mouth, making sure to not hurt him with her teeth. her hands helping him find his pleasure. 
his lower body spasmed, as he came with her name on his lips.
katniss did not expect the texture or taste of him, but it was peeta, so she swallowed what he gave her. 
his chest rose and fell, his hands never letting go of her hair. she crawled over him, planting her lips on his.
he was eager in his kiss, his tongue teasing her mouth open. 
“you taste so good, don’t you? can you taste yourself on my tongue?” katniss’s voice was soft, it was only for him.
peeta just moaned, not being in the mindset to string together coherent sentences, so he just showed her. 
“too many clothes,” he murmured, sliding his hands under her night shirt. 
her skin had texture, scars, and burns, he could not wait to taste her. he had been biding his time, waiting for her. it had always been her, since she had opened her mouth and the birds stopped singing. 
peeta was too gone in a haze of need to feel ashamed of his desperation as he tore at her clothes. katniss smiled softly at him, her eyes shining with love, for him. she sat up and raised her arms, permitting him to take her shirt off.
she was jaw-dropping beautiful.
he stared at her chest. “can-can i?” 
katniss wrapped her hands around his neck, dragging him down with her, he kissed down her neck, down her collarbones, to her chest. he found she liked when he licked her nipple, he sucked and swirled his tongue around it. taking pleasure in the taste of her. the taste and feel of her flesh in his mouth, he flattened his tongue and ran it up her breast. her legs wrapped around his upper body, and her head fell back in a moan.
she had treated him so good, he wanted nothing but to make her feel good too. so he kissed her neck and slid a hand into her panties. she was drenched. he smiled against her skin. she was enjoying this too, enjoying giving him pleasure. 
she was dripping, he explored a bit before finding a spot that made her scream, a bundle of nerves he caressed with his thumb, her hips bucked and he watched her eyes roll to the back of her head in pleasure. he slid his index and middle finger inside her, she was warm and soft, and he could feel her clench around his fingers. god she was so tight, he wondered how she would feel around his dick. he moaned softly as he swirled his thumb around her bundle of nerves, testing out different pressures and movements until he found the one that elicited the most visceral reactions out of her. 
but he was nowhere near close to being done with her. he wanted to taste all of her, wanted her pleasure on his tongue. he kissed down her body until his lips found home.
katniss moaned loudly with his first experimental lick. she tasted so good, he slipped his tongue into her, using his fingers to play with her clit.
katniss’s legs spasmed around his head. her fingers on his scalp felt like heaven.
he could not believe that he finally knew how she tasted, all his darkest repressed fantasies of her could never compare to the real thing. she was exquisite.
peeta almost did not notice when she came the first time, but he tasted more of her and he lapped at her cum, eyes closed in bliss.
the second time she came, she came with a cry, katniss was a quiet lover, the opposite of him, who could not contain his moans. but he spoke her language, and he could read her body language like a picture book. and he knew she was writhing in pleasure. pleasure she was feeling because of him.
and now that he finally knew what she tasted like, he would never let her go.
peeta kissed her softly before rising from the apex of her thighs, crawling over her, and kissing her.
remnants of him on her tongue, and the fresh taste of her on his.
peeta’s hand instinctively went to her breast, he pinched her nipple alive and she moaned softly.
“we taste so good together katniss,” peeta’s voice was soft with wonder.
and when he smiled at her, his chin glistening with his come, she knew she was putty in his hands. a malleable object, who would do anything for him. who would give him anything he wanted just to keep that smile on his face.
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katniss enjoyed just dozing with peeta, wrapped up in each other’s arms, the scent of their climaxes in their noses. 
katniss was chest to chest with him, skin to skin, his cock pressed, semi-hard against her belly.
she ran her hands up and down his back, his skin soft and warm.
peeta hummed, content in her arms.
it was noon, and they had nothing urgent to do. all their chores could wait for them.
“how about we clean up, take a bath?” katniss poked peeta.
he mumbled incoherently, his grip on her tightening. 
katniss giggled, “peeta, come on, we are all sweaty, let’s take a bath.”
“together?”
“yes! come on.”
their bathroom had a tub, big enough for both of them, katniss took the time to prepare it, wanting it to be the most enjoyable bath. grabbing her favorite soaps and oils, the bath smelled like her. peeta was oh so happy to get in after her, he sat between her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his stomach, pulling his back to her. 
katniss cupped her hands and filled them with water, doing her best to wet peeta’s hair. once it was drenched, she picked her lavender shampoo. there was something about him smelling like her which satisfied the both of them.
once katniss lathered her hands with shampoo, she slid her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp. peeta melted into her, his hands tracing patterns on her thighs. 
katniss massaged her scalp, scraping it softly with her nails. peeta was already clean, to begin with, he was very meticulous about his hygiene. but they had both sweated quite a lot with all the excitement. 
katniss dunked his head into the water softly once she was done with him, moving her body to reach for the soap. she smiled mischievously, now this, this was an amazing opportunity to have fun with him.
she spread her soap-filled hands up and down his chest, each time she lathered her hands with soap, she went lower, lower, lower… 
“ahh~fuck~katniss~ yes~” peeta’s hips jerked when her warm soapy fingers wrapped around his cock, pumping up and down softly.
katniss’s grin grew when she felt him harden at her attention.
she circled his tip with her thumb, the soap making it easier for her to pump her hands up and down.
peeta’s hips shook with each pump, his head lolling into katniss’s shoulder, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in bliss. he clamped his hands on katniss arm.
the build-up was exquisite, and when he was near, katniss slowed down, delaying his pleasure, his cock throbbing with need.
katniss kissed behind his ear, his skin breaking into goosebumps, his mouth falling open to let out shameless moans.
“you are so good peeta, i love the sounds you make, they are all i ever wanted. i am so happy to be able to give you so much pleasure that you can’t contain your moans. i am very happy to have you here, to feel the delicious weight of you in my hands.”
peeta’s orgasm sneaked up on him, cresting abruptly, he groaned and shook as he came. katniss jerked him off softly as he came down from his high.
“the next time you come it will be inside me.”
the remainder of their bath was restful, they cleaned each other, with nothing more than kisses here and there.
they dried off and dressed in lounge clothes. they had so many clothes from effie, they did not know what to do with them.
they spent the afternoon relishing each other’s company. katniss sat at the counter, watching peeta bake.
she could not keep her eyes away from his arms, from his skillful hands, hands that created, the same ones that made her come. she blushed. away from the shelter of their bedroom, out in the open kitchen, katniss did not feel as promiscuous as she did under the cover of the night. she felt safe and comfortable, anxious for the night. katniss was glad that she and peeta were learning together. they had nothing to prove, no cameras or audience to please, it was just her and him. 
katniss could feel the perpetual tension that hung between them, anticipation for the night which made time move devastatingly slow. 
the sun lowered on the horizon, and katniss knew what she wanted to do. 
she grabbed a flashlight and smiled at peeta, “follow me, i have an idea.”
“oh yeah”
“yes, trust me, come on.”
katniss led him out of the house, into the woods, past the useless barrier to the edge of the meadow. she led him by the hand, and stopped in front of a thick-trunked tree.
peeta stayed silent, giving katniss a quizzical look. 
“look, it’s your favorite color.”
peeta had not registered the time, -too busy in his thoughts of her- he had not looked at the sky- to busy taking her in. but as the sun sank into the horizon, the sky exploded into colors melting into each other. orange, like the sunset, not like effie’s hair. 
peeta tore his eyes from the setting sun, resting them on her. she was already staring at him. at the bewitching colors reflected in his glistening eyes. peeta could not help it, he leaned into her, their kiss meeting softly, the sweet taste of her on his tongue. he could not wrap his head around it. he was here with her. there were moments when he thought he would never see her again, never get to lay his eyes, lips, and hands on her.
a knot formed in his throat for the part of him that was still traumatized by the capitol. he was safe, and she would always protect him.
she slid her hands up his nape and twisted her fingers in his messy locks. he felt her smile against his lips.
“you need a haircut.”
“i don’t care, sweetheart, just don’t stop touching me.”
katniss laughed, “come on, it is barely visible, let’s go inside.” 
led by the gleam of the flashlight, they walked home hand in hand.
───── ✧ ─────
the full moon illuminated the bedroom, they undressed each other basking in the incandescent light of the night.
their breaths were deep, and katniss smiled when she felt him tremble. he was nervous. everything about him made her blood pump with affection. all his perfect imperfections fit together like pieces of a puzzle. god, he was perfect. everything about him she adored and loved. it could be the bleakest day for her, and with one of his life-altering smiles, she would know everything would be alright. when he smiled, he smiled with his whole face, his nose would scrunch, and his eyes would dance with mirth. 
at that moment, his eyes were wide, with terror and anticipation.
half naked, katniss stopped him from removing the rest of her clothes. she held his hands in hers.
“pretty boy, why are you nervous?”
“i don’t know what i’m, doing katniss… what if i mess it up, i want to be good for you- i want it to be good for you.”
“there is no way you will mess up, and if you do, we will try again and again.” she grinned softly at him, and she could see him visibly relax. she let his fingers go, letting them roam and slide her pants and underwear down her ass, he kissed down her body as he knelt infant of her. she stepped out of her clothes, and he discarded them onto the background, standing up to meet her eyes. 
his breath stuttered, not knowing what to do next. she could tell, she could always tell with him.
“how about we make a deal? just let me take control, and whenever you feel or want to do anything else, just tell me. trust me, you are doing great.” she reached for his hand and pressed it against her cunt, she moaned at the contact, and so did he, feeling how wet she was. “you already have me drenched and you have barely touched me, you are so good peeta, such a good boy, my good boy.” 
peeta moaned, his cock rousing. 
once all their clothes were scattered around the floor, katniss planted her hands on his chest and pushed him into the bed, he lay flat on his back, “wait, i want to…”
katniss lifted her brows in silent encouragement. 
“can i be on top,” peeta flushed, “please.”
katniss’s answering smile was tooth-rottenly sweet. she nodded, premiering him to move their positions, in which he hovered over her.
“ready baby?” her voice was soft, her legs were open, her core glistening with her arousal.
peeta could feel himself tremble with need and anticipation. his cock ached to be buried inside her tight warm cunt.
he reached a hand in between their bodies, wrapping his hand around himself, he did not give himself enough time to enjoy his own hand, it was not enough, he needed her. needed to be inside her, or he would die, so he aligned himself with her and stared at her for reassurance. her eyes were half-lidded and dark. the air was tense with anticipation, as he slowly pushed inside her. it was a tight fit, and her nails clawed at his back as her hymen broke.
he stretched her gummy walls, and he let out a guttural groan from the feeling of being enveloped by her warmth, he throbbed with pleasure and the need to move. but he waited until she was ready.
“please, i need you to move.”
peeta pulled out slowly, his body shaking with pleasure as he pumped back in, taking his time to enjoy the drag of her cunt as he moved in and out, achingly slow. so slow it hurt so good.
katniss canted her hips. “please just, let go, please, take me.” katniss encouraged him to chase his pleasure, and that was what he did. thrusting in and out of her warm taut walls. their moans mingled with each other, accompanied by the sound of their flesh moving against each other. peeta’s movements faltered and he was so blissed out, so close, he could not hold himself up.
“switch with me, let me ride you.”
peeta was too lost in the haze of pleasure, but he let out a whine of complaint as he slid out of her, when she was sitting on top of him, hands planted in his chest, peeta almost came right then and there. he was so deep.
he was so deep he hit a delicious angle that made katniss moan.
peeta was so close, but he wanted her to come first. so he gritted his teeth and relished the feel of her as she rocked her hips, dragging her clit against his pelvis.
peeta sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck, her folds spread open, as she rubbed her clit against him. 
he felt a gush of warmth as she found her pleasure, her orgasm building up deep in her belly, and when she crested, her whole body shook, her cunt clenched around him, and her cum made it easier for him to slide in and out. he laid back once again on his back. her hands back on his chest, as she rode him. legs shaking from the residue of her orgasm, she made sure to clench her pussy, finding it made his jaw slack and his hips jerk. his sounds of pleasure were enough to have her pussy weep for him, making her movements messier.
his hands gripped her hips, and he was close, “katniss-move- i….” he groaned,
“no.. i want you to cum inside me,” she said, each word enunciated in between pants. 
and just the thought of her dripping with him pushed him over the edge.
katniss took the time to admire him, riding out his high, he was so loud all the time. and this orgasm rendered him soundless. his whole body shook, and his eyes were clenched, as he came, spurting inside of her. their mixed cum was a wet mess that felt heavenly as she rode him out, feeling him soften inside her.
 she melted into him, lying on top of him, him still inside her throbbing softly.
and with his name on her lips, he was complete.
───── ✧ ─────
(((i am considering doing a part two, of more fucking instead of love making, maybe a lot of kink exploration and diving deep into sub/dom dynamics, what do you think?)))
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icarus-star · 3 months
Text
🥀 hybrid moments. | dan cooper & kappa
omg first character x character fic. shocked rn. this is so gross don't even question how it's supposed to work.
cw's: porn without plot, very fast paced, not completely proofread (i skimmed it), degradation, praise, spit-play(?), power play (nicknames like sir/master are used), all sorts of little nicknames used on danny, biting (very very light blood play!), light bondage.
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he didn't even remember how he got into this situation. trembling on the bed in front of another man, desperate to be touched. everything felt like a blur up until this moment.
dan swallowed back his confusion, looking up at the other man who was slowly unbuckling his belt. "you feelin' alright, sugar?" kappa wondered, a grin on his face as he let his belt fall to the ground.
dan nodded his head yes, earning a weak chuckle from the man in front of him. kappa sat down, his back against the bed frame. "c'mere.." he murmured, waving his hand in a motion to signal danny over. in which he compiled.
he crawled over, now sitting on top of kappa's lap. kappa wasted no time, his mouth already all over danny's neck. kissing and biting all over.
as kappa worked his mouth along dan's skin, his finger's moved down to unbutton dan's shirt. he kissed up dan's jaw, soon tossing his shirt somewhere else in the room. his hand's then went further down, unbuttoning danny's pants. pulling them down along with his underwear to reveal his pretty, needy cock. already semi-hard from the feeling of kappa's lips against his skin.
kappa chuckled, squeezing dan's upper thigh. he bit down on his collarbone, earning both a loud, pained whimper from dan and a little bit of blood.
kappa's tongue swiped over the small wound, licking away the blood. he moved his mouth up, sucking other parts of danny's neck. making him whine more. "p- please.." he mumbled, pawing at kappa's cock through his pants.
kappa let out a soft hum. "please what, baby? use your words." he replied, his voice raspy as always.
danny anxiously glanced away, gazing at the ground. "please... i want you inside of me.." he muttered back shakily, biting the inside of his cheek.
kappa snickered darkly, petting the back of danny's head. "mmm, not yet." he breathed, moving dan off of his lap. kappa trundled to the other side of the room to the closet, opening the broken door and taking something out.
he walked back over to the bed, sitting behind dan. "gimme your hand's." kappa almost demanded, having danny place his hand's behind his back.
kappa took dan's hands, tying his wrists together with a pretty, light blue silk ribbon. kappa sighed, looking at his work for a moment then moving to lay in front of dan. "go on, suck your master's cock." he requested.
danny's big eyes went a little wider, yet he still obeyed kappa's order. he leaned forward, squirming a little. "ah, how- how do i..?" he stammered, unable to take kappa's pants off.
"oh, you're a smart boy. figure it out." kappa stated, a dirty smirk plastered on his face as he watched danny's every move.
danny leaned forward a little more, positioning himself between kappa's legs. he thought for a moment, trying to figure out a way to do this, or if there was a specific way kappa would like him to do it.
danny looked up at kappa nervously, his eyes glassy and shimmering as he fumbles to bite down on the zipper of kappa's pants. finally he had succeeded, unzipping kappa's pants with his mouth and doing his best to move them down his legs.
and luckily, kappa hadn't been wearing underwear. his long cock was hard, throbbing for dan's mouth. danny swallowed back nervously, then began licking up kappa's dick.
danny's mouth finally got to the tip, his lips wrapping around it. he swirled his tongue around, staring up at kappa for approval.
kappa grinned, slowly unbuttoning his own shirt as he bucked his hips up forward, pushing himself down dan's throat. causing dan to let out a loud muffled whine, gagging around kappa's girth.
tears had already started to form in danny's eye's, they fell down his cheeks as he bobbed his head down on kappa's length. with every movement he made came a dirty gag or whimper, sending vibrations through kappa's dick, causing him to groan.
kappa tossed his shirt to the ground, placing his hand on the back of danny's head. "you're so fuckin' good at this, such a nasty boy." kappa groaned, pushing dan's head up and down.
dan's face was all red and flushed, slick with his own spit that dribbled out of his mouth and tears that fell every time kappa's cock hit the back of his throat. kappa grunted, feeling himself throb inside of dan's mouth, knowing he'd cum soon.
"swallow, swallow.." kappa huffed, bucking his hips upwards as he spilt his cum down danny's throat.
dan obliged, swallowing up every bit of cum that kappa released. he finally pulled off of the other man's dick, coughing, sniffling and trying to catch his breath.
kappa let out a low chuckle, sitting up to get a better view of danny's already fucked out face. "get on your hand's and knees." kappa demanded once more, standing up. kappa had gotten behind him, untying the ribbon around his wrists.
danny nodded, doing exactly what was asked of him. his ass up in the air as his chin rested on his forearms. kappa grinned, getting on his knees behind danny, leveling his cock up with dan's asshole.
first, kappa planted a firm slap on dan's asscheek, causing dan to jolt forward for a moment, yelping. with the hand that landed on danny's ass, he spread the man's cheeks open. spitting right on his entrance, rubbing it in like lube.
and then slowly, he pushed himself into danny. dan's breath hitched as he felt himself stretched out wide by kappa's thick cock, biting down onto his own wrist as a means to not make too much noise.
kappa let out a perverse groan, gripping onto danny's hips. "mmm, fuck, you're so tight, bunny." he mumbled, his voice gravelly.
"i- it's too much, sir..!" danny whined, squirming around ever so slightly. having trouble adjusting to how kappa felt inside of him.
hearing that, kappa placed another hard slap on danny's ass. "shh shh, you can take it. you do wanna be a good boy for me, right?" he coaxed, running his nails down danny's back.
danny let out a muffled whimper, nodding his head as he kept his face buried in his arms.
finally, kappa started to move. pulling out, then immediately pushing himself back in, balls deep. danny let out a loud squeak, clawing at the sheets below him for something to hold onto.
kappa began to pound into danny's tight hole harder and faster as the moments went by, his finger nails digging into the soft flesh of danny's hips. almost piercing through his skin.
more tears fell down dan's face as he felt all of the seperate sensations of both pain and pleasure. he was so overwhelmed that he hadn't noticed kappa leaning forward, biting down on his shoulder.
kappa bit down, causing dan to once again whimper. but in the moment, danny felt too much to muster up a word. being rammed into by kappa's big cock, his hips being held onto like he'd disappear if not, and kappa's hand now jerking him off was just too much.
danny stammered and cried, burying his face into the plush red pillow below him. kappa smirked as he sucked on danny's skin and fucked into him, leaving all kinds of marks on him.
dan felt something familiar deeper inside of him, a knot forming as kappa hit all of the right spots. "ff- i- i'm.. fuck!! please, i'm gonna cum..!!~" he cried out.
kappa began to let out gruff laughter, thrusting sloppier and deeper into dan. as hard as he good. "such a dirty boy. go on and cum, cum for me." he groaned.
danny let out a long, exaggerated moan. shooting hot, thick ropes of sticky white cum onto the black sheets. "m'cummin'..! nghh fuck..~" he whined, his voice cracking as his balls emptied.
kappa kept going, hitting deep inside of dan. soon starting to feel himself about to cum again as well. with one last thrust, he came again, filling up danny's ass.
he pulled out, watching dan collapse onto the messy, cum stained bed. it was a night for both of them to remember.
tagging people who were interested: @angelsanarchy @spookyorchid @ultr6violnce @justhere4rory @svgarcaine
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69misato69 · 1 year
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Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures (Alhaitham x Kaveh) ✦ smut, 3.5k
archive of our own ✦ twitter
masterlist pinned on my profile !
Summary: Kaveh overhears Haytham having a one night stand and he is unable to think of anything but fucking him. The initial premise was meant to be crack, then it turned into an actual fic but I do still find it kind of funny if I'm being honest. I hope you enjoy :)
Top Alhaitham x Bottom Kaveh
cw: blowjobs, handjobs, ejaculation, slight overstim, unprotected anal sex
writer's note: explicit +18 content, please view at your own risk. thank you, have fun !
“Haytham!” Kaveh angrily walked into the living room to find his roommate reading on the couch as always, “We have a problem.”
The scribe didn’t lift his gaze from the page and turned it over with his index finger, “I have a feeling that it's your problem and I have absolutely nothing to do with it.” Kaveh crossed his arms at his chest, refusing to follow-up in an attempt to get his attention. Per usual, it was a futile effort, so he gave up with a long, annoyed exhale, “I can’t get laid. It’s getting out of hand.”
Alhaitham was unfazed by the abrupt indecency, it was Kaveh after all, he had spent years trying to teach the concept of boundaries to him but the man was sticking to his values of oversharing and making every detail of his life public to their small household. “Impossible, it's your only source of income.” Alhaitham jested, skilfully hiding the half-smirk that formed on the corner of his mouth. Kaveh gasped and squeezed his fists, “Rude and untrue.” he protested. Alhaitham turned another page and settled more comfortably in his seat, “Mmhm, do go on.”
“My proposal is to fuck.”
“Seems like an appropriate solution, any candidates?”
Alhaitham could see where this conversation was going from miles away, but for now his plan was playing dumb and savoring the moment as his roommate further embarrassed himself. “The proposal is for you and me.” Kaveh certainly didn’t sound ashamed, laying down an unchaste and indecent offer as if it was nothing. 
“You want us to fuck?”
“Yes. What is your answer?”
“Who fucks who?
“You top.”
“Why, you don't like it?
Alhaitham heard footsteps approaching him, Kaveh snatched the book away from his hand and put it down on the table. Alhaitham hated it when he did that, but he was drawing too much joy from the situation that he wasn’t bothered at all.
Kaveh stood between his parted legs and looked down on him with his arms crossed once again. “Haytham. Listen to me very carefully. Fucking you won’t solve my problem. This is serious. I need to be thrown around, okay? I need to forget my own name. I can’t take it anymore. You’re as emotional as a Scarab, so I’m sure you won't catch feelings. Also, I assume you’re packing down there. So please , stop drawing this out and just answer me.” he explained calmly, as if the words he uttered weren’t absolutely insane. 
Alhaitham nodded, “Fine, I accept.” Kaveh’s eyes lit up momentarily, then the spark vanished with the growing awkwardness between them. Alhaitham parted the silence, “What are you waiting for?” Kaveh was frozen in place, he hadn’t planned things this far. He didn’t even think the scribe would accept. Though it seemed impulsive, it had been on his mind for some time, since the day he was supposed to check up on a project and stay overnight in the desert last week. 
He had told Alhaitham beforehand, it was an unspoken rule between the two. Kaveh enjoyed having people over but they kept it confined within the walls of his bedroom, Alhaitham would only see those people for a moment in the mornings when they would be leaving, but he would never bring home someone he was involved with. Kaveh didn’t exactly know why, but he knew that the scribe definitely cared for his privacy. Regardless of the reason, he tried to tell Alhaitham when he was going to be away, in case he wanted to have the house to himself and have people over. Everytime he came back he would notice signs but would never pester his roommate about it. 
So last weekend, he got ready for his departure as always, failing to account for the fact that he was extremely tired. He came home and went to bed immediately, confident that he would easily get up near noon and leave with the convoy. But when he finally opened his eyes, rested and light as a feather, the time was nearing five in the afternoon. 
He got off the bed, cursing as he made his way through the kitchen to quench his thirst. He sat on the balcony for a while and then ran inside upon spotting Alhaitham in the distance. The scribe approached the door, Kaveh could hear him from the large window opening to the balcony. But he wasn’t alone, there was a tall brunette tangled around his arm. Kaveh rubbed his temples, trying to devise a plan by the time they made their way up. 
If he left he would undoubtedly run into them, plus he wasn’t even dressed. Even if he found a way to evade them, everyone that would welcome him in the city was out in the desert with the rest of the team. Though he liked to poke fun at Alhaitham, he handled most of the housework, cooking and cleaning, taking care of their plants and, taking care of Kaveh. It was his house after all, and if he saw Kaveh there he would surely never bring anyone home ever again. Kaveh truly didn’t want to shatter his trust in him. 
So, the only option was to hide in his room. It wasn’t so bad, he was still tired after all. Hurriedly, he sneaked a bottle of water and some snacks and ran to his bed. Alhaitham walked in with the man that Kaveh didn’t know, they cooked dinner together, laughing and talking about things that were terribly boring to the blonde. Yet, it was interesting to hear Alhaitham crack up at the jokes, he surely never laughed like that at Kaveh or at anyone at work. 
It was actually kind of nice to see a more human side of him. Kaveh couldn’t help but smile all evening, sketching his new plans quietly and occasionally taking breaks to eavesdrop on the two. From what he had gathered, it didn’t seem like a serious relationship, maybe it was just a casual thing, and maybe it wasn’t even a ‘relationship’ at all, Kaveh thought, until later that night, when Alhaitham took the man to his room. 
After that, all that Kaveh heard was the rustling of clothes and kisses through the thin walls, and the man moaning Alhaitham’s name over and over again. Kaveh should’ve just plugged his ears, but he felt paralyzed, unable to move a single muscle until he realized he was gripping tightly onto the sheets. He whispered curses when he felt a twitch in his groin, it was extremely annoying to get hard at Alhaitham’s grunts. 
Aside from the frustration he also felt, perverted. It was wrong , slipping his hand inside his boxers was wrong, imagining his own self under Alhaitham was wrong, lusting over something that he wasn’t even meant to hear was so wrong. But, that didn’t stop him. He laid down, playing with himself to the melody of his roommate’s soft moans and words of praise. 
It was so unattainable, what that man was achieving. It was so out of touch for someone like Kaveh. What he felt wasn’t jealousy, but it was certainly something. After the two settled down, Kaveh also felt his eyelids get heavy once again. He rid himself of the overwhelming thoughts and drifted off to sleep. Luckily, the house was empty in the morning. All that remained was a note with beautiful handwriting that Alhaitham slipped through the door, probably before leaving for work. 
“Hope you had a safe trip back. I’ll be away until tomorrow. Please do not leave the window open again. H.”
Kaveh sighed. He went to drop off the plans and apologize for missing the trip. Since he was going to have the house all to himself, he decided to hit the tavern and hopefully find someone to spend the night with. He desperately needed to shake off Alhaitham’s voice from his ears, but it seemed impossible. Instead of taking an interest in newcomers, he spent the entire night drinking and thinking of his roommate. 
Kaveh barely made it through the rest of the week, bickering with Alhaitham as usual but having his mind drift off to lewd fantasies of him whenever he was unoccupied was exhausting and confusing. So he really wasn’t lying when he told Alhaitham that he couldn’t get laid, Kaveh had just conveniently left out the part that Alhaitham was the reason for that, and the only cure for his debilitating condition. 
“I—don’t know. Do something, Haytham.”
“I take care of your drunk ass every night, you do something for once.” 
“Fine, but don’t enjoy it too much.”
Kaveh lowered himself to his knees and reached to undo the scribe’s pants. “I don’t think I will.” Alhaitham chuckled. 
“Stop being mean or I’ll bite.”
“It’d be the last time you ever bite anything, Kaveh.” 
Kaveh couldn’t help but laugh as he slipped away his roommate’s underwear. “Damn, pretty.” he remarked out loud accidentally. It really was decent, Kaveh couldn’t help but imagine it inside himself, the thought lit a spark in his groin. “It’s a dick?” Alhaitham said, bewildered by Kaveh’s comment. 
“So, I’m not allowed to find it pretty?”
“Why don't you suck it so I can have some peace and quiet?”
Kaveh huffed and looked up at him daringly. Not fighting back was taking everything he had, but for once, Kaveh had the chance to actually impress Alhaitham. When it came to housework, the scribe would always complain that he didn’t do things properly, and when he acclaimed Kaveh's work as an architect, well, that wasn’t really a personal thing. So, he decided to revel in the opportunity. He tied up his hair neatly and leaned forward, holding onto Alhaitham’s waist with both of his hands. 
Kaveh first left a trail of kisses all over his thighs, grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin. Alhaitham twitched at the sensation as the blonde’s mouth moved up to his groin. He dragged his tongue around the scribe’s cock hungrily, being rewarded with light moans. Kaveh sucked on the tip, looking up shamelessly before sliding his mouth all the way down. 
He was bobbing his head up and down and altering the way he sucked and released with such precision that Alhaitham felt like he could orgasm at any moment if he wanted to. “Not bad.” he mumbled, it was an understatement but was necessary to humble Kaveh. 
But he was persistent, he supported his movements by placing one hand around Alhaitham’s base, timing them in a way that he knew would drive his roommate insane. Curses spilled out of Alhaitham as he yanked on Kaveh’s ponytail and pulled him up by the waist. 
“Hey! I wasn’t done.” the blonde objected, but he still wrapped his arms around his roommate’s neck regardless. Alhaitham freed his hair from the pin and pressed a kiss onto his neck, “Well, I want you here, on my lap.”
Kaveh felt his heart skip a beat, Alhaitham stripped him slowly while peppering kisses all over his upper body. He shivered once he was fully naked on the scribe’s lap, the erection rubbing against his entrance already.
Alhaitham took such good care of him, massaging his thighs, playing with his hardened nipples and leaving bite marks all over his sensitive skin. Kaveh held onto his roommate’s shoulders for support, he felt like a ball of yarn at the mercy of a cat’s paws, he had no choice but to unravel. 
Alhaitham slipped two fingers in Kaveh’s mouth, watching the blonde carefully as he sloppily lubricated them, eager to move on. Kaveh was already grinding back and forth, he couldn’t help it, just as he couldn’t help tilting his head back and moaning Alhaitham’s name as he quivered for his touch. 
Alhaitham took out his fingers and circled them around Kaveh’s hole. Though they had been in this position for some time, Kaveh leaned in for the first time to kiss his roommate on the lips. Alhaitham passionately responded, intruding Kaveh’s mouth with his tongue and his hole with his fingers. 
The blonde sank even deeper on his lap, grinding onto the digits with excitement. His moans escaped into Alhaitham’s mouth, hot breath hovering over the scribe’s face. Alhaitham pulled away and lifted his lips to line up with his entrance, Kaveh took a deep breath before pushing all the way down, all in one go with a low groan. 
Alhaitham hissed, the warmth came so suddenly, and Kaveh’s walls sucked him up with no hesitation or delay, it was impressive, how he took it with such ease and the way fit him perfectly. “So good, Kaveh.” Alhaitham purred in his ear while playing with his nipples. The blonde stuttered and then decided not to speak at all. Instead, he slid back and forth, up and down in circular motions, fucking himself on Alhaitham’s cock as he kept pampering him. 
“L—let’s go inside.” Kaveh offered. Alhaitham carried him to his bedroom without pulling out, with every step he took the blonde gently hopped up on his lap. The scribe entered and immediately slammed Kaveh on the wall, he cried out from the overwhelming sensations, the cold surface against his back, the sharp momentary pain that stabbed his hips, and the way Alhaitham reached so far up his hole with the force of the impact. He was thrusting somewhere so deep that Kaveh didn’t even know such a place existed. 
“Thrown around, you said, right? Does this suffice?
Alhaitham pushed him even further, instead of letting Kaveh slip back, he held his hips and drew them in, maintaining the depth that made Kaveh’s eyes widen with every thrust. “I don’t know about making you forget your own name but I’ll make sure you at least won’t be able to speak it.” Alhaitham cooed in his ear. Kaveh was already far gone, drool spilled from his lips over to his roommate’s chest, he was gasping for air, breathing out incoherent words. 
Alhaitham kept holding him close, Kaveh didn’t deserve anything short of being filled up to the brim. Though, after a few more thrusts, he felt warm liquid seep out of Kaveh’s tip and pulled away, leaving only an understimulating portion inside. Instinctively, the blonde tried to wrap his fingers around his cock but Alhaitham swiftly pinned both of his wrists above his head with a single move. Kaveh winced at the distress, he struggled to free his hands and whined, “Stop it, Haytham, you’re—ruining it.” 
Alhaitham smirked, “Oh, am I?” The rest of Kaveh’s load leaked out pathetically as he begged the scribe to help him out. Alhaitham didn’t seem to care, he watched the blonde ride it out with a cruel and merciless smile. “Put me down.” Kaveh spat out angrily. 
Alhaitham stepped away and released his grip on his wrists and hip. Kaveh hadn’t accounted for the fact that his legs were on the edge of giving out, with Alhaitham gone he collapsed on the floor, his knees knocking up against the harsh, wooden surface. Alhaitham grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled it back roughly so Kaveh would look up at him. 
“I’ll give you a proper one, Kaveh. I promise.” His words were comforting but the playful look on his face surely wasn’t. Regardless, Kaveh was hitting a point where all the pain started to feel right. His aching back, knees and hips, his abused hole that was already yearning for more, and now the stinging feeling at the base of his scalp. It had become so pleasurable, so delicious as it pumped adrenaline through Kaveh’s veins. 
Alhaitham was just as he expected, selfish and impudent, disregarding the amount of agony he was putting Kaveh through and discourteously ruining his high while feeling zero remorse. The more Kaveh realized it, the more he was drawn to the scribe. He stuck out his tongue, leaving a wet trail from Alhaitham’s base all the way up to his tip. He encased his cock inside his lips, this time much more gently, grazing the tip against the insides of his cheeks. 
Alhaitham had expected him to make a bigger fuss before settling into submission again. “I didn’t know you could behave so well.” he gave a backhanded compliment that made Kaveh’s brows furrow and pushed his head away. The blonde’s whines stayed muffle on his throat when the scribe picked him up and laid him on the bed. 
Kaveh relaxed onto the mattress, finally resting on a soft surface. Alhaitham sat between his legs, but the sight suddenly stunned him. He had seen Kaveh almost everyday for the past two years, and in almost every conceivable scenario. Exhausted and alert, sober and drunk out of his mind, snorting from laughter and sobbing uncontrollably. But this was a new entry, unregistered. Laying down on the bed with bruised knees and a sheer coat of sweat, eager to have Alhaitham take care of him. His golden locks scattered over the pillow and his cheeks tinted pink.
He looked absolutely breathtaking, and Alhaitham realized that he never stared at him for this long. The most he would do was take stolen, quick glances from his book when Kaveh would fall asleep on the couch. Not that he was going to wake up, but secretly Alhaitham was scared of seeing something, he didn’t even know what that “something” was, but now it was clear to him. Kaveh was beautiful, ethereal. Slithering over him lustfully, it wasn’t like anything Alhaitham had ever seen before. 
You’re as emotional as a Scarab, Haytham. 
“I know, I’m pretty.” Kaveh snapped him out of his thoughts, Alhaitham had lost track of time, he scoffed with a dramatic eye-roll, “And a shallow idiot.”
“Well you almost came inside that idiot two times so that makes you even more shallow.”
“What?”
“You edged twice, didn’t you?”
“How do you know that?”
“Well I felt it.”
Alhaitham chuckled, he was awfully good at hiding every physical cue, it was interesting, Kaveh was oblivious to his mastery during daily life, but apparently he was immune to the deception when it came to being intimate. 
“How is it that a field expert like you can't find someone?” Alhaitham quipped as he leaned forward and slid inside. 
“I—fuck—don’t know. It’s been like that for the past week.”
“No luck yesterday either?”
“Uhh…not really. I sat at the tavern but no one even bought me a drink.”
“I would. If you were there.”
“Sorry?” Kaveh was flushed, his legs wrapped around the scribe’s waist went numb for a moment, his mind was at a blank as well. 
“I was at the tavern yesterday, doing corrections. Almost all night.” Alhaitham seemed very calm, he was sliding in and out with a relaxed pace, watching Kaveh slowly lose composure and fall apart. It truly was a terrible time for his roommate to come up with an excuse or a lie, and that was why Alhaitham had brought it up right then and there. 
Kaveh felt like an ice cube slowly melting away into a puddle, for a brief moment it actually seemed pretty ideal to disappear so he didn’t have to deal with the situation. Luckily, Alhaitham didn’t expect an explanation, he picked up the pace, eliciting deep moans off of the blonde’s lips. Kaveh was already feeling close again, still longing for a satisfactory relief unlike his last.  
“Your cute little ploy is very amusing but the next time you want me, just say so.” Alhaitham mewled as he nibbled on the blonde’s neck. “Shut up, it wasn’t a—Ah!--ploy.” Kaveh opposed. The scribe chuckled, he brushed against his roommate’s prostate to work him out even more, Kaveh gasped, it was becoming harder and harder to defend himself. 
“You were here last week, weren’t you?” Alhaitham asked. He lifted Kaveh’s hips with a slight angle and pressed down on his groin. The blonde whimpered, the unexpected pressure was making him even more sensitive as more blood rushed to his lower body. 
“I thought a bright man such as yourself would at least think to hide away his shoes.” Alhaitham continued. He was shamelessly badgering Kaveh, enjoying the sight as he squirmed and tried to cover his blushing face with his hands.
“Ah, I see. You’re not embarrassed because you heard it, you’re embarrassed because you liked it.” 
“Please—” Kaveh pleaded.
“You laid here and fucked yourself like a freak, didn’t you?” 
Kaveh was living through an insane thrill, he was desperate against Alhaitham’s claims, they were terribly accurate, as if the scribe could read his mind. Hearing Alhaitham belittle him usually annoyed Kaveh, but in the heat of the moment he felt euphoric, an overload of emotions as his body fluctuated between shame and pleasure. 
Alhaitham’s eyes had darkened, an evil grin was sculpted on his face. He wrapped his fingers around Kaveh’s dick and slid his hand up and down. “Didn’t you?” he repeated the question, not that it needed an answer, but hearing Kaveh admit to his degeneracy would simply be delicious. 
Tears pooled around Kaveh’s eyes as he struggled to talk, “I hate—” but before the blonde could say “you”, he released so intensely that his vision went dark for a second. Ropes of cum shot out in between them as his body spasmed and released. 
Alhaitham hummed, “Ironic.” 
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bookwyirm · 5 months
Text
Stray Swords and Broken Words
(THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR BLUE EYE SAMURAI IN THIS FIC, BUT IM PRETTY MUCH STRAYING FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL)
This fic will be extremely fluffy because I can’t stand anymore angst from this show 😭
Also there might be smut later on, idk yet.
(ALSO TAIGEN DOESN’T KNOW MIZU IS A GIRL YET)
Mizu can’t tell what Taigen is thinking for once. Being a master of the sword means recognizing your enemies, watching their body language to know when they are going to attack and how to retaliate best. Before the arrows that had just rained down on them, Mizu knew exactly what was going on in Taigen’s mind. Honor, stupid as the concept is.
But now…his eyes are wide, hesitant. And it sends a jolt of something through Mizu. Not fear, no. But definitely caution. He has to be planning something right?
”Your shielding,” his voice breaks the tense silence “that was…”
It can’t be. A compliment? Or almost one, the thought doesn’t really get finished. But it’s enough.
Mizu lifts her chin, her hand straying to the place her sword would rest. The emptiness throws her off, but still not enough to stop the responds that spills from her lips. “Your timing,” She looks away a faint smile touching her mouth “you are deeply skilled. The broken blade fits well in your hand.”
The smile in Taigen’s eyes seems to fade as he looks down at the bare blade in his hands. He presents it to Mizu. “Well it’s yours. If you want it.” Mizu takes the blade silently sliding it into its sheath with a satisfying shing.
“So…”
“So?” His gaze has softened again and Mizu can’t seem to hold it. Choosing to stare into the forest instead.
“We should make camp. Lick our wounds and lay low for a few days.” She’s already striding away into the thick circle of trees “C’mon Ringo.” Her cheerful companion scurries after his master.
Taigen stands still for a moment, gazing thoughtfully after Mizu before following her deep into the forest.
A/N
I know this was short but I just wanted to get something out quickly. I don’t know why I haven’t seen more fics for this ship, they’re adorable together. Feel free to comment any suggestions or send me asks for requests. I’d love to do some Headcanons or even just chat about Blue Eyed Samurai. (I do write smut, I’m not uncomfortable writing anything so don’t be afraid to get a little crazy 😜)
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I Will Write A Fic For You If You Donate to the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund!
I came across the super cool organization Fandom Trumps Hate just recently (as of this post actually), and unfortunately I learned of its existence too late to apply to be one of the writers for this year. Since I don't want to wait a whole year to do some good with my love of writing, I'm holding my own little auction! Let's use that autistic special interest for good!
How Much I Will Write: 1K-5K words (if I end up writing more, well, yay for the lucky auction winner I guess, but that's what I'm willing to commit to)
What Fandoms I Will Write For: Baldur's Gate 3, The Dragon Prince, Good Omens, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Loki (just... the character. I will write so many things involving that character)
What I Will (and Will Not) Write: Character x Character, Character x reader, Character x OC even if you can give me enough about your OC, are all good! Not into shipping? No worries! I love the platonic and I can even just write a character study or a songfic. I am willing to write up to M rating for this, so some spicy stuff, but not pure smut. Any of the Main Warning Tags on AO3, save Major Character Death (gotta love that angst), are off limits. If you are worried that I can't write your idea before you want to bid, go ahead and shoot me a message before you bid and I'll let you know! You can also check out my pinned post for my masterlist of past fics. I have written all the examples I have given as requests before.
How to Bid: Place the dollar amount (in US $) of your bid in the replies of this post! The bidding period begins at the time of posting, March 3 2024 12pm ESR and ends March 10th 2024 2pm EST.
What Happens If You Win: When the bidding closes I will message the top bidder from this account here on tumblr. From there, you have 48 hours to send proof of your donation. I'm giving myself a deadline of a month to have your fic ready for you.
If the winner does not send proof of donation before the time period is up, I will contact the first runner up.
Additionally, I will match the winning bid in my own donation up to $100
AND A FINAL WARNING
The purpose of this endeavor is for fun fic writing and most importantly, doing a little bit of good for the Palestinian people. Any bigotry done on this post will result in the perpetrator being blocked and disqualified from receiving a fanfic.
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justa-randomone · 2 months
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Praying that as people start to write pjo fanfics like percy x reader, they don't make annabeth a bitch to justify percy liking reader
LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I AM NOT SAYING TO WIRTE THIS SMALL CHILD PERCY IN FICS, its just bound to happen as it did in the past
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experimentfae · 2 months
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Lucifer
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Fanfics:
Coming soon
Oneshots:
Coming soon
Headcanons:
Coming soon
<- Back to MasterList or back to
Hazbin hotel
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skyeslittlecorner · 9 days
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What are your character x character ships? I’m curious 🤭
Basically everybody x everything
I'm here to have fun and I like to experiment, sometimes wild things come out of it
My faves (I have a thing for kings with their right hand devils):
Beelzebub x Bael (Avisos royal couple rules)
Satan x Sitri
Levi x Foras
Zagan x Astaroth
Phenix x Ronove
Satan x Leviathan
Lucifer x Michael (Heaven divorced couple)
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youcancallmemikuu · 2 months
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Tyr x Kratos Headcannons .
A/N! This was requested by @nonndrawz . Everyone has their own opinions and ships, and it is completely their choice. I only post things I am comfortable with, and I am comfortable with this. If you have any hate, keep it to yourself.
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“Ah…Kratos, dear that’s not- that’s not how that works.” Tyr gives a chuckle as he helps Kratos make a bracelet. Kratos just stares, nodding and trying again.
“Thats it! Im proud!” Tyr claps and looks at Kratos, who is already busy making another. Tyr is definitely going to have a wrist full of bracelets since Kratos found something new he likes to do.
2 hours later . . .
Mimir, confused: “Why do you have bracelets on all the way to your elbow??”
Tyr, smitten and happy: “Because my husband likey.”
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“Remember dear, things don’t always have to resort to violence!” Tyr calls out, watching as Kratos and Atreus go out on another mission.
Sindri sighs. “You know that won’t change anything right? He always resorts to violence.” Tyr only sighs and smiles.
“I know, he likes it when I wave goodbye and tell him something related to his journey.” Tyr was smitten.
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“Tyr.” Kratos sighed as he looked up at his lover, who was holding Atreus tightly. “Tyr, put him down.”
“No!” Tyr held onto Atreus tightly, frowning. “He’s my baby and I’ll treat him like a mother would a child!” Atreus stared up at Tyr.
“So… I call you mother now?” Atreus asked, and Tyr’s eyes widened as he nodded enthusiastically. “Of course dear!”
Kratos sighs. “Oh my Zeus..”
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Kratos was unsure of what to do in this situation. “Tyr, what do you mean by..cuddling?” Tyr was in shock.
“You’ve never cuddled before!? Dear!” He immediately picked up his lover and plopped on the bed, holding him close. “I’m going to give you the warmest cuddles you’ve ever had!!”
Kratos doesn’t object to this at all. It’s sort of nice. He lets outa hum of satisfaction as he lets Tyr hold him. It feels nice being the one held for once.
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This is my first time making like, character x character headcannons, but i think i did good! Like i said this idea is by @nonndrawz and i completely support it. Anygays, ENJOY!!!!1!!!!!!111!
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jazeswhbhaven · 1 month
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I know you have a Satan x Levi ship going...but I checked WHBfans and it's revealed that the king Beel is closest too is Levi! I mean I guess that's why they're paired in the gacha but I'm just wracking my brain on HOW. (is it because of the whip?)
Oh??? Is this a post of theirs that I missed??? :o Because if so... My biggest thing could be is that Beel has the same trauma that's closely related to Levi's experience (since in his butt card he says he has bad memories related to shots) and in Chapter 5 we get a peak of what the angels were doing experiment wise. So it is possible the same stuff was happening at a different time separate to Beel and this is why the two are closer because they understand one another in that sense.
BUT that's just me piecing things together Beel could have a completely different reason for hating needles that his butt story may reveal. Also...iirc Levi's H-scene or his Selfie card story involves a whip...so
But with this new info for my ship, it's possible that their relationship while may be Satan's good at listening, but he is not good with relating and tries to give Levi solutions instead of listening to listen and this is why Beel is there to distract him. The bestie who he occasionally gets into trouble with. The "bad influence" that causes a fight between Satan and Levi on what he should be doing in the first place. Ahhh the drama filled story that is my ship...lmao watch this change tho once the other kings show up.
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faithisasuperstar · 3 months
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Hii I was wondering if u can make a lamina and treech story were they dating!! Thank uuuu💗💗
love the way you lie
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treech x lamina
a/n → while i don’t typically write character x character, i put that aside and decided to make an exception for these two because they are both in my top three tributes 🫶🏼 this is a rough first attempt, and if it didn’t quite reach your expectations, feel free to request again, i’m happy to try until i get it right :)
notes → in which an unlucky pair of lovers are reaped for the tenth annual hunger games. my longest fic yet at 2.5k words!
warnings → angst, violence, canon character deaths, typical hunger games warnings. not edited and uploaded via iphone
     oh, how unfortunate it was that district seven’s resident lovebirds got reaped together. treech didn’t think he could ever raise a hand to poor, sweet lamina. what was he to do? his heart was racing, fabricating all of the different possibilities, as well as outcomes. from where he stood on stage, his eyes scanned the crowd in search of her. lamina, who was already crying when they called treech’s name, couldn’t stop herself from weeping when her own name now echoed across the square. she was never a big fan of crowds, and it was worse now that everyone’s eyes were on the girl. she simply couldn’t handle it. sniffling, with tears stinging her eyes, she kept her eyes low as she shakily made her way to the stage. lamina began to ascend the steps of the hall, and treech couldn’t help but reach out to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. only then did lamina look around, possibly taking in the very last look of her district. her ears were ringing as the mayor made a final announcement that she had been unable to register. soon, the peacekeepers were forcing them into the hall, where they would then be placed on a cargo train and sent to their death.
     the first night on the train, lamina barely got a lick of sleep, and treech didn’t receive any, as he was too busy making sure lamina was okay. his reassuring affirmations lulled her to bed for at least a few hours. both sets of tributes from four and one were already in the cart when treech and lamina had boarded, and the duo from five entered not too long after. lamina cuddled up closer to treech, overwhelmed with anxiety. the boy was finally about to close his eyes and rest when the train came to a vicious hault, screeching loudly. treech winced at the volume as lamina instinctively grasped onto his arm. shouting could be heard from outside, and all the tributes had to squint when a peacekeeper swung the car door open, their eyes having not seen light for many hours. the peacekeeper began shouting, banging his gun on the wall as the tributes started to scamper out of the cart. treech’s hand found it’s way to lamina’s as the pair looked around at the change of scenery, as well as the other tributes. they didn’t have much time to adjust because almost immediately they were being beckoned to another vehicle, this time a van. treech sat lamina down near the front of the van, checking up on her to see if she was okay while more tributes filed in. with the new tributes squeezing into the seats, lamina was no longer directly next to treech, separated by the boy from ten. chaos ensued as one tribute tried to escape, sprinting out of line, causing treech to peer out of the van at him. lamina, on the other hand, was too distracted by the capital boy who had snuck his way on while the peacekeepers were preoccupied. as the little boy was apprehended and thrown into the van, the doors immediately shut and all eyes were on the capital boy. except for lamina, who kept her eyes down, not wanting to gain any attention. the capital boy greeted them hesitantly, intimidated by all the eyes on him, but he was suddenly shoved up against the wall by reaper, the male from eleven. lamina flinched, and tried making herself smaller where she sat. treech, much like the others, was glaring at the boy with animosity. with most of the tributes on the same page, many agreed to just killing the boy. at the proposition, his eyes widened and he looked around frantically. much more discourse occurred until the van started backing up, tilting backwards as the doors flung open. treech desperately tried to hold onto lamina before he fell, and the two descended nearly twenty feet, landing on a clump of rocks. 
     lamina stood behind treech as they assessed the new location, the inside of a cage. she took notice of the capital citizens that were peering in at them as if they were animals, and she took another cautious step further behind treech. a reporter was outside, calling something out to the capital boy. treech recalled the man as lucky flickerman, a weatherman. he pointed his observation out to lamina, who lacked a response. the pair watched intently as the capital boy led lucy gray up to the front of the cage, interacting with the children near the front until peacekeepers arrived to rescue the boy, leading him away. lamina gestured for treech to join her at the nearby rock she decided to claim for them, thinking it useful to have a surface to sleep on that wasn’t dirt.
     for the first time ever in their relationship, treech and lamina were both speechless. it wasn’t that they didn’t have anything to say, but rather those thoughts just couldn’t be expressed with words. as the day dragged on, more so-called mentors arrived. they came baring food and water, but unluckily for the district seven tributes, their mentors apparently had better things to do. typical. treech fumed at the thought, and lamina anxiously twiddled her thumbs, sniffling once again. she had always been quiet, spending her days atop trees, her head in the clouds; it was her happy place. the rest of the world was too much for her, too crowded, not to mention corrupt. but it was inescapable, and now lamina had to face all that she feared. the girl simply could not do it without crying. treech felt helpless as he was unsure how to make this any better for her, it seemed like an impossible task to accomplish. on top of that, both of them also had to cope with the fact that only one tribute got to come out alive. their dark thoughts were interrupted as a shrill shriek rang throughout the zoo. treech immediately jumped up, placing a protective arm in front of lamina and watching the whole ordeal. blood seeped from a mentor’s throat as she gasped for air unsuccessfully. in a matter of seconds, peacekeepers were shooting into the arena as treech pulled himself and lamina behind their rock in an attempt to dodge the bullets. adrenaline pumps through their veins, and lamina was fighting back tears. they decide right there that they should be treasuring the time they still had together.
     their plans forcibly changed when peacekeepers arrived to chain them up, hauling them away somewhere unknown. chained to desks and unable to leave, the tributes looked around in confusion, until the mentors arrived. both lamina and treech didn’t meet their mentors beforehand, so the  capitol children who sat before them were complete strangers. lamina was already on the verge of tears, and treech stared silently at his mentor coldly. pup harrington spoke something to lamina about winning and she snapped, hiding her face in her hands as she began to sob uncontrollably. treech glanced over at her in pity as he tried to answer some of his mentor’s questions, but he just couldn’t get through it without almost giving into his urges to jump at the entitled girl. both mentor’s emerged unsuccessful, and treech and lamina were taken back to the zoo, still in chains. 
     to the tributes’ surprise, when the peacekeepers came back, they came to take off their chains. treech rubbed his wrists, sore from the binds and looked over at lamina. together, they climbed into the van. this time, they were taken to the capitol arena, where they met with their mentors for the second time today. they entered the arena side by side with their mentors. upon entry, though, the tributes and mentors spread out, exploring the arena where twenty three district kids would spend their final moments. a whimpering lamina stayed nearby treech, but they were far enough apart that when a voice rung out, calling for treech, he ventured toward it without her. the disruption was caused by coral, mizzen and tanner surrounding her in a similar fashion to lackeys. when coral beckoned for treech to join them, treech turned, calling for lamina, and she began to follow before coral objected. treech stood astonished as he contemplated the idea of abandoning lamina. intrusive thoughts creeped into his mind. he would never admit it, but deep down treech was growing weary of lamina’s constant need for reassurance. if he were to stand by her side for the entirety of the games, continuing to baby her as he had been doing, she would surely drag him down, getting both of them killed. treech thought about his family back at home, the little sister that was always counting on him, his mother who cared for him with all of her heart. wasn’t that reason enough to want to win? and he surely couldn’t win if his sensitive lamina was quivering the whole time. treech told himself that this was for the better, that lamina understood where he was coming from and would want him to win as well. but he couldn’t be more wrong. as treech’s back turned to the girl, lamina’s lip trembled and she uneasily scanned the arena. she had never thought that treech would just leave her high and dry like that. what was she to do now? her mind was racing until a sudden explosion sent her flying across the arena, the impact knocking her out.
     everything was a blur after that, being yanked off of the floor of the arena, the medical attention she received later that night from a vet, even the peacekeepers waking her up the next morning, dragging her to the games. but as the countdown began, she knew she must get it together. lamina wiped her tears away, looking around at her fellow tributes as a countdown played in the arena. treech peered over at her, releasing a shaky breath before relinquishing any second thoughts. if either of them wanted to return home, they could no longer rely on each other. the blood bath began as the countdown reached an end, the strongest tributes running to grab a weapon, including treech, who had grabbed an axe, beginning to swing violently at lucy gray. lamina stayed out of their way, avoiding the rest as she tried not to draw attention to herself, something she was an expert at. amidst the chaos, lamina had inserted herself into a small alcove under the rubble cornucopia and waited. time passed, and lamina wondered if it was all over yet. carefully peeking out, she examined her surroundings before determining it was safe and fully pulling herself out of the rubble. her mind worked quickly, and she grabbed a knife as well as a small axe. she turned the axe over in her hands, testing its sharpness, and it was then that she remembered treech was the one who taught her how to properly use the weapon. she wondered if she would have to kill him with one. she then wondered if she even could. lamina’s eyes landed on marcus, strung up on a crossbeam and beaten half to death. the sight broke her heart, but there was no more room for tears here. she made her way up the rusted steel pole gracefully. after years of climbing trees in her free time, lamina could climb far better than any other tribute could. she took a deep breath, leaning down and looking to marcus for confirmation, asking with her eyes if death was something that he wanted. he begged her pitifully, voice almost gone. lamina didn’t think twice before bringing her axe down forcefully into the curved part of his neck, putting him out of his misery. she then cut the binds that held his body there, letting him fall the the floor with a thud. catching her breath, she quickly got up when she caught sight of a drone coming towards her. her eyes widened as it drew closer, forcing her to duck as the drone crashed on the pole behind her. there, lamina settled down, curling up into a ball and allowing her thoughts to run rapid, thinking about her treech who was no longer hers. was he dead yet? maybe he was coming to kill her?
     meanwhile, the boy in question was lurking the tunnels, following coral and trying not to succumb to the doubt and guilt that had been eating him alive. when he left lamina, he left a part of himself behind. it took everything in him not so swing his axe down on coral and run as fast as he could to his lover. but could he even call her that anymore? he had deserted her when she most needed him. and who knew? maybe she was already dead. while the thought tore him apart, he knew it would probably be for the better. one person closer to going back home. but on second thought, he realized his home was with lamina. the realization made him stop dead in his tracks, where he stood for a solid minute before tannner called out for him. after that, thoughts of simply killing himself arose in his mind as he continued to follow the group into the next day. coral’s obsession with killing lucy gray brought them to where they were now, surrounding her in preparation to attack. coral was just about to ram her trident at the girl when a multitude of drones came crashing at the pack. treech tried to fight them away with his axe, but they brought him to his knees. in that time, lucy gray had gotten away as coral let out a myriad of complaints. she instructed treech and tanner to collect the water that remained, while she and mizzen gunned for lamina, who was draped over the large crossbeam. lamina. his lamina, his girl, his everything. how could he just stand by when his allies were going to kill her? he didn’t know himself. treech just tried to push down his feelings, organizing the water into a pile, then following tanner to watch lamina’s undoing.
     lamina fought with everything in her, dodging jabs with her axe left and right. she had finally got into the offensive position, when coral stabbed her in the back, forcing her to turn back over. coral’s weapon had much more range than hers, and there was not much she could do now with blood seeping out of her. lamina instinctively tried to call out for treech as coral’s trident plunged into her abdomen, despite knowing that his loyalties had changed. her voice was too weak, anyway, having not spoken for days now. still, she desperately looked to him, but his eyes were fixed to the floor, unable to watch the scene in front of him. her body was on fire as she attempted to persist, her spirit overestimating the state of her body. lamina took one last look at the world around her, at her treech, before life drained from her eyes. her body limply fell to the ground, and treech had to stop himself from breaking down as coral began yelling once again. he promised to help her. to get her out of here even if it meant getting himself killed. what had he done? everything he had accomplished in the past few days went against his very morals, his heart, for the sake of what? survival? he watched blankly as tanner sunk to the ground, lifeless as coral’s trident drive into his form. he desperately wished to suffer the same fate. maybe then he could have lamina back.
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sunshowerwriting · 7 months
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i just need to get this idea out there in hopes of actually writing a fic about it but
imagine karosuno first years going on a road trip together. yachi is driving because lets be real she is the only one responsible enough to do that. hinata is in shotgun controlling music and kageyama is behing him complaining and berating him for his misuc choice and trying to keep up a half decent conversation with yachi.
but most importantly tsukishima and yamaguchi are both not paying attention to any of the three in the front and are in the way back taking a nap on each other’s shoulders. occasionally one of them will wake up to the noise but aside from a few grumpy remarks from tsukishima theyre both just happy to cuddle in the back and enjoy each other and their friends company.
other random thoughts about the trip;
yamaguchi is on snack duty.
hinata makes them stop all the time. for stretch/pee breaks as well as to stop and take pictures in front of random monuments
yachi will override hinata’s music occasionally, and she is the only one that has the power to do it
kageyama is the one who asks “are we there yet?” the most
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yeaimsafiya · 4 days
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EUPHORIA: A SERIES
PAIRINGS: characters of my hero academia x female! reader
SYNOPSIS basically a written ver. of the show euphoria but I wrote it with y/n (aka you) and the characters of my hero academia
FROM THE WRITER hello, this is my first ever series but it is my first series for my hero academia specifically. this started as small thing i thought about but i finally ended up writing it. Whether this series will actually meet a written end, i hope so bc i really like it. i hope u do too -with love, safiya <3
GENRE romance, drama, love story
WARNINGS: story includes scenes not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, child abuse, drug abuse, toxic relationships, toxic positivity, hookup culture, mental illness, codependency, abortion, infidelity, relapsing, Gender transition, repressed homosexuality, sobriety, human trafficking, domestic violence, rape, self-harm, toxic masculinity, drug dealing, dating violence, mental health, and grief
NOTES: no posting schedule, some short some long chapters, quirkless!au, high school au!, popular! reader, ideally set in a warm szn, mentions of food & alcohol consumption, mentions of sex and vulgar activity, sexual activity, cursing, some reader is fem!, not all characters are their specific pronouns and genders from birth (gender transition)
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE:
CHAPTER TWO:
CHAPTER THREE:
CHAPTER FOUR:
CHAPTER FIVE:
CHAPTER SIX:
CHAPTER EIGHT:
CHAPTER NINE:
CHAPTER TEN:
might be more chapters
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SERIES TAGLIST (send ask or reply to add or remove)
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©yeaimsafiya. please refrain from copying, modifying, translating, reposting, or claiming ownership over my work in any way; If so, you will be blocked.
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ze-writing-qprs · 9 days
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My name is Ze
I want to try my hand at writing a bit more. So request away. This is for short stories/fics and headcanons.
Currently just writing for Hazbin Hotel.
MASTERLIST
WIPS
Characters
Alastor
Rosie
Angel Dust (Angel)
Husk
Charlie
Vaggie
Vox
Velvette (Vel)
Emily (Emmy)
You can request for others, but it is less likely I will do them👍
RULES
If you request a character x reader they will always be GN unless the character they are paired with is gay/lesbian + the requester requests that specific gender. Then I will try to make the gender more to their taste, but still GN. (aroace characters will always be in a qpr or platonic relationship) You can request trans readers and I will see what I can do.
Make sure to use the little heart emojis or just state what kind of relationship you are looking to be written or I will just pick one.
Specify if it will be a oneshot/short story or a headcanon list and make sure to state what you would like it to be about or any plot points you would like in the story/list.
Will Write
💛Platonic Relationships
🩷Queer Platonic Relationships (QPR) [my personal go to]
❤️Romantic Relationships (RR)
💙Poly Relationships (must all be dating each other, can be a mix of QPR and RR)
Character x Reader (will always be GN) Specify 1st or 2nd person or I will pick/do a mix of both 👍 also reader's name will never be "mentioned" as that is my writing style
Character x Character (Will depend on if I think I can write for them)
Fluff, Comfort, Angst
Happy endings and Sad endings
Gore (Will have TW)
Consensual C*nnibalism (Will have TW)
Comedy/Crack Fics (not very good at this) or non serious ships
Will NOT Write
Sm*t
Anything S*xual
Anything Explicit
Non Aroace Alastor (leave him alone guys🙏)
Valentino
K*nks
P*dophilla (or however it's spelled. gross AND illegal)
Major Character death that is not part of the ship unless it is canon
Yandere
(More to be added)
Sorry if I don't do every request, I am very new at this.
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bookwyirm · 5 months
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Please Stop.
I wish I didn’t have to make this post, but it’s happened to me too many times for me not to say anything. Please stop telling people to kill themselves because you disagree with them.
Please stop telling people to self harm because you don’t believe what they believe.
Please stop telling people they are not valid or needed in the world because they are standing up for their beliefs.
Please stop telling people to disregard themselves to make you feel comfortable.
Please stop spreading hate and promoting bullying because you don’t have a good argument.
Please stop degrading people because you feel like they are wrong.
Please stop ganging up on people because you dislike a ship.
Please stop demonizing people on posts that aren’t even related to the problem your talking about.
Please stop going into spaces that are not meant for you and harassing the users.
Please stop invalidating medical and/or mental health issues because of something they cannot control.
Please stop sending hate to authors because you don’t like what they write.
If you do these things, YOU are the problem, YOU are the hateful one. YOU are the issue. YOU are the outlier, YOU are in the wrong. It should be common sense. If you don’t like something, you scroll away, you block the tag, you politely explain your position, you block the person. You DO NOT create a hostile environment. Shame on you. Shame on all of you.
And if you agree with this, remember it goes both ways. Whatever you believe there is someone on the other side you need to respect enough not to do these things. We’re all just human.
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levithestripper · 3 months
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Patience Is a Virtue
summary:
stuck in winchester due to a quicker-than-usual winter and confined inside king ecbert’s castle with nothing to do, ragnar finds himself trailing behind athelstan, being strung along to god knows where. but his little priest promises it's worth it, and ragnar makes good on athelstan’s promise.
warnings: fluff, smut, porn with a sprinkling of plot, corruption kink, god complex, church sex, oral sex, semi-public sex (?), religious imagery and guilt, degradation kink, praise kink, aftercare.
length: 7.6k || read on ao3 || join my taglist
a/n: born of a thought i had with @grantairescurls :) the brainworms consumed me while writing this and i somehow managed to finish it before the new year. ending the past two years with an athelnar fic may become a tradition around here who knows. ANYWAYS i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did while writing it. doubles as day 16 of my three year old kinktober series i'm struggling to finish lmfao.
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Winchester is a fascinating place. The landscape is similar enough to Norway’s, albeit missing the country’s magnificent mountains and rolling hills that Ragnar has somehow grown bored of. It has grown even closer in similarity these last few months, with winter bringing heavy snowstorms, covering the courtyard in fluffy white snow that glitters in the cold sunlight.
Free of King Ecbert’s all-knowing gaze, he walks beside Athelstan, eagerly waiting to see where his priest is leading him. But he’s known for being impatient, voicing his restlessness to Athelstan, a man who has enough patience for the both of them. “Where are you taking me, little priest?” Ragnar asks, trying to push the right buttons to irritate him, but it fails. 
“Patience is a virtue, Ragnar,” he replies, a knowing look on his face.
Ragnar rolls his eyes with a dramatic groan, earning himself a quiet chuckle from his friend. “Well, are we close, at least?” 
Athelstan doesn’t answer him on purpose, knowing it’ll annoy him further. Before Ragnar can continue to complain, Athelstan announces they’ve arrived at their destination. “We’re here.”
They stand in front of two giant wooden doors at the end of the long cobblestone hallway they found themselves in. The black metal handles make it look like the entrance to a dungeon. 
Ragnar looks at Athelstan with confusion. Ath must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere! Ath surely can’t be serious when he says this is what he is so eager to show him! “Didn’t realize you’re a comedian, Athelstan,” he smirks. “Come on, where are we going, truthfully?”
Athelstan turns to meet his gaze, unaffected by Ragnar’s cockiness, far too used to him and his shenanigans. “I told you, patience is a virtue.” He leaves Ragnar’s side, walking up two pointless steps, and takes hold of the cold metal handles, pulling both doors open in a grand reveal of what lay behind. Light flooded the dark hallway, causing Ragnar to raise a shielding hand to his brow. 
Through squinted eyes, what he sees takes his breath away. Larger-than-life stained glass windows filter the massive amount of winter sunlight into a rainbow of colors across the beautiful stone floors. Despite the colorful sunlight, the room is still relatively dark. The ceiling is taller than the hallways’, at least three stories worth of height between the two, the top coming together at a point. Hanging from the pointed ceiling is a fancy—and expensive-looking—candlelit chandelier, adding to the specific atmosphere in the room that Ragnar can’t find a descriptor name for. In the center of the room is a marble statue depicting what appears to be a stable of some kind. The wall behind the statue hangs a large wooden cross with a bronze man nailed to it. 
“This is what I wanted to show you.” Athelstan looks as if he is in his God’s heaven. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Ragnar slowly trails behind him, head craning back to absorb everything before him. “Is this what you talk so much of back home? What is it called…” he mumbles under his breath, searching for the word in English. “A… church?”
Athelstan smiles at the effort Ragnar is putting towards getting the correct answer all on his own. “Close. A chapel,” he says in Norse, then repeats the new word in English.
He nods, trying to commit the phrase to memory. “What is the difference?” he asks, returning to Norse. 
“A chapel is a place for private prayers, while a church is for congregations led by a priest.” Ath lets Ragnar take his hand within his callused one, keeping him close. 
The Vikingr’s eyes light up at the mention of a priest. Finally, something he knew something about! “A priest? A priest like mine?” 
Ragnar’s words cause a red dust to bloom across Athelstan’s cheeks. “I’m not a priest, Ragnar.” 
He shrugs. “They’re basically the same thing.” Ragnar turns and points at the marbled statue in the center of the room. “What is that? It’s not like anything you’ve told me about.”
Athelstan looks to where he is pointing and pulls Ragnar towards it with the hand the Vikingr still held onto. “This is a nativity scene!” 
He looks at him with a confused expression, suddenly lost again. “A nativity scene? What is a nativity?” Ragnar asks, the English word feeling foreign and unnatural on his tongue.
He gnaws on his thick bottom lip as he mulls over the easiest way to explain it in Norse. He sighs. “A nativity is the place of someone’s birth. And a nativity scene is a depiction of that.” Ragnar circles the statue, looking at it from every angle imaginable as if he were sizing an opponent up for a fight. He crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his elbow into the meat of his forearm, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. 
“Why?”
It’s Athelstan’s turn to feel puzzled now. “What?”
“You heard me, Ath. Why? What is the point?” 
Ath moves to stand beside him. “It’s a recreation of the birth of our Savior.”
Ragnar interrupts him. “Our savior?” he questions, voice full of snark.
“Shut it and listen,” he smacks his bicep. “It’s how the faith celebrates the birth of the son of God all year round. Every year around this time, churches will put together beautiful masses to commemorate the birth of Jesus. It’s an important symbol in the religion, making the Lord tangible for all the world. Etching it into stone makes it permanent, ensuring parishioners never forget that He was once a helpless babe like they were.” 
He doesn’t respond immediately, absorbing Athelstan’s words and attempting to understand them to the best of his abilities. “God’s son?” Ragnar squats in front of the marble baby. The stone infant slept in a pile of straw compiled within a trough, surrounded by who Ragnar assumed were his parents and extended family. Ragnar trails his finger across the babe’s cold forehead, feeling the finely chiseled details against his skin. “Is this the eldest son?”
Athelstan sits cross-cross next to him, nodding.
“Like Thor?”
Ath makes a face. “I suppose so.”
“Who are your god’s other children? Why are they not here?” Ragnar shifts to sit as well. “Why dishonor his other children this way?”
“Jesus is God’s only son.”
Ragnar chuckles. “Your god must be stupid, then. Betting everything on one son, only for him to die before having sons of his own.”
“Everything was a part of His plan, making Jesus’ death far from stupid,” Ath counters, leaning against Ragnar’s shoulder. 
The Vikingr sighs deeply. “Do you worship him still? This Jesus.”
Athelstan shrugs. “I see the Lord in the blooming of spring flowers, but I hear Thor in my ears when I run into battle beside you. I feel the Lord in the summertime breeze, but I pray to Freyja to protect my norse sisters when they enter motherhood.”
“You’re a confusing man, Athelstan. No matter how much I learn about you, you never fail to reveal something I’m incapable of understanding.” Ragnar’s words earn him a giggle from the man beside him. 
Ath turns his head, his chin digging into the soft tissue in Ragnar’s shoulder. “You’d be bored if I were any different.” Ragnar’s silence is telling, confirming Athelstan’s statement as correct. 
Ragnar doesn’t stay silent for long. He never is quiet for long, always spouting the first thing that comes to mind. “Why is there no table?”
“Table?” Ath questions. 
“The table!” he repeats as if that would clarify it. He gestures with his hands, trying to visualize the image in his head by drawing it in the air. “The table the priest hides behind!”
Ragnar’s words finally clicked inside Ath’s head. “Oh! You mean the altar?” He nods. “Chapels don’t have altars since they’re designed for individual prayer.”
“That’s a shame,” he says with a coy smirk, a devious glint in his icy-blue eyes.
Athelstan raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, yeah? Now, why is that?” Ragnar invades Ath’s personal space, noses just barely touching. It doesn’t startle him in the slightest, having grown quite used to it in the past handful of years being Ragnar’s partner.
Teasingly, he licks the tip of Ath’s nose. He leans in, whispering hotly in his ear. “If there were a table,” Ragnar refuses to call it by its proper name, purposely to irk him, “I could bend you over and fuck you on it.” He finishes with a sultry drag of his tongue up the shell of Athelstan’s ear, biting the lobe when the younger man shudders underneath him.
Athelstan’s expression looks as if he can’t decide between being aroused or being appalled. “Ragnar!”
“What, little priest? Does the idea of fucking on your god’s table make you uncomfortable?” Ragnar slides a rough hand over one of Athelstan’s thighs. “Or does the thought of defiling your Lord’s precious altar fill you with an embarrassing feeling of desire?” Ragnar’s words are hot against his ear, drawing another shudder from him.
“Ragnar!” Athelstan exclaims, his face a bright shade of red. 
His smirk broadens as he drinks in Ath’s reaction. “Hm? Did I strike a nerve in you, my love?” Ragnar goads, teasing his hand further up Athelstan’s inner thigh, fingertips sending tingles straight to Ath’s slowly hardening cock. “Maybe I should take you right here instead, take you apart piece by piece in front of your beloved stone nativity.”
Athelstan grasps his wrist, halting his hand from edging along any further. “We can’t—I can’t. Not here.” 
“Then explain why your cock is telling me a different story, my love,” he hums, breaking free of Athelstan’s hold to cup the man’s groin in his palm. Ragnar feels his own cock twitch against his thigh. “Let me show your god exactly how I worship you.” Ragnar closes the barely-there gap between them, lips pressing against his messily, hungrily. Athelstan practically melts under his ministrations, just like always. He grips Ragnar’s wrist again, trying to keep himself grounded, or else he feels as if he might float away. 
“Ragnar, we can’t, it’s wrong!” Athelstan isn’t sure if he’s saying it to convince himself or Ragnar. Maybe both. When he’s kissing him, he can’t be sure of much. “Seriously,” Ragnar kisses him again. “We shouldn’t—” Another kiss. “We can’t!” Another kiss, this one sloppier than the rest.
Ragnar mocks him teasingly. “We can’t! We shouldn’t! It’s wrong! You should give me a real reason, little priest.” He moves to kiss down Ath’s neck, sucking on the spot he knows will make the man whimper and shiver. “Don’t try and hide how badly you want this. You know I can see right through your little disguise, sweetheart.” Ragnar squeezes Ath’s quickly thickening cock, pulling sweet, embarrassing noises from him. Athelstan’s resolve is quickly deteriorating, much to Ragnar’s pleasure.
“This is no fair; you’re no fair, Ragnar,” Ath complains, forgetting to add malice to his insult. His blush has spread down the column of his neck, making Ragnar want to suck pretty purple bruises into the soft skin there. Ragnar’s quick to act on his impulses, leaving an impossible-to-hide bruise in his wake. “What—What if someone walks in?” Ath manages to stutter out.
He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating in his chest. “So what?” he snickers, kissing a line down Ath’s neck, roughly tugging on the neckline of his tunic so he can continue along his shoulder. “Who cares if someone finds us. It wouldn’t stop me.” Quickly finding the blue fabric irritating, Ragnar pulls it over Ath’s head and tosses it behind them without a care. Taking off his own shit as well, Ragnar pushes him to lie on his back, shoving his tunic underneath Ath’s head as a makeshift pillow. “So what if your beloved god watches me fuck you? He should be honored to watch one of his creations be so thoroughly taken care of,” he hums, his words sending another wave of sparks through Athelstan’s body.
Athelstan doesn’t have a response for him. And even if he did, he doesn’t think he’d be capable of speaking without stumbling over every word. So he stays silent to keep from embarrassing himself further. The lack of any comeback made Ragnar grin maliciously.
“Not talking, my little priest?” he asks coyly. “Now, now, why could that be? I know you’re good with your words.” As Ragnar speaks, his deft fingers quickly begin unlacing Athelstan’s trousers. “Perhaps,” he licks his lips enticingly, his grin morphing into a familiar cocky smirk, “perhaps you want me to turn you into a dirty little sinner. Maybe you just don’t wanna admit how hard the thought of defiling your beloved god’s house makes you. ‘Cause then,” Ragnar leans down to whisper in his ear, his breath hot against his lover’s skin, “you’d be a filthy heathen like me.”
All of the willpower Athelstan had mustered up ‘till down crumbles around him at Ragnar’s words, the thought alone making his pretty pale blue eyes roll backward in his skull. “Fuck, Ragnar,” he groans, his voice shaking as if he might start crying any minute. “Fuck it, fuck everything, fuck God—I need you right now!” Ath exclaims, wiggling out of his trousers and kicking them away. He fumbles with the ties on Ragnar’s pants, desperately trying to push them down his thick, muscled thighs.
Ragnar cheekily nips at the shell of his ear before helping Athelstan relieve him of his pants, leaving the pair in just their undergarments. “Didn’t hold out for as long as I thought you would, sweetheart. Are you that desperate for me to defile you? To ruin you in front of your god?” Ragnar kisses down his sternum, laving his tongue over the sparse freckles he found dotted across his lover’s chest. He teases his fingertips along the waistband of Athelstan’s underwear. “Is that right, Athelstan?” 
Instead of words, Ath whines pathetically, embarrassment flooding his senses. He felt his cock throb and leak beads of pre at the sound of Ragnar saying his name in such a lustful, inappropriate manner. “How long do you truly expect me to hold out for when you seduce me like this?” He unties Ragnar’s ponytail but leaves the braided sections alone, running his fingers through his now mostly loose locks. “You should leave your hair down more often.”
“Only if you promise to pull on it,” he says with a smirk, earning himself a deserved smack on the shoulder. With a giggle, Ragnar unceremoniously tugs down Ath’s underwear, watching intently as his cock slaps against his lover’s toned abdomen. Laying between Ath’s now spread legs, he mouths over his jutting hipbones, kissing everywhere but where Athelstan so desperately wishes he would. Ragnar lifts Athelstan’s legs to rest on his broad shoulders as his rough, weathered hands wrap around his thick, supple thighs, keeping him from squirming away. Nipping at his inner thigh with his teeth, Ragnar slowly makes his way down to Ath’s groin, littering small kisses as he goes. 
Slowly regaining his confidence, Athelstan teases him right back, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Starting to think your bark is worse than your bite, Ragnar.”
He cocks an eyebrow at him. “Oh? How so?”
“You’re going so slow it’s almost like you’ve got cold feet or something,” Athelstan smirks, egging him on.
Ragnar returns his gaze with sharp eyes, telling Ath everything he needs to know with just one look. If he wasn’t before, he’s sure in for it now. Ungentle hands spread the globes of Athelstan’s ass apart. The rush of cool air to the newly exposed skin makes his whole body shiver with anticipation. Ragnar licks a hot, thick stripe from Ath’s hole to just below his balls, drawing an unexpected yelp from him. The yelp soon turns to moans as Ragnar continues, each lap of his tongue sending his nerve endings into overdrive. Slowly working his hole loose, Ragnar slides a free hand up Athelstan’s chest, stopping when they reach his red, bite-swollen lips. “Go on, pretty boy, make them nice’n wet for me.”
He wastes no time, opening his mouth for two of Ragnar’s fingers, sucking on them fervently. Ath licks them from base to tip, acting as if they were his cock and not mere fingers. Once Ragnar deems them wet enough, he pulls them from Athelstan’s lips, a string of spit connecting them briefly before it breaks, now sticking to Ath’s chin instead. “Good job,” Ragnar hums, sliding his spit-slick fingers down Athelstan’s taint and over his entrance. “Do you feel your god? Can you feel him watching us? Watching you?” he taunts with a click of his tongue. Ragnar presses the pads of his fingers against his entrance, threatening to sink inside but never following through with it. 
Athelstan nods, embarrassment bubbling to the surface once more. 
“I don’t think he’ll still be your god after this, little priest,” he licks over his top teeth with a gross wet sound. “I think I’ll be your god instead.” With that, Ragnar presses two fingers inside him, and Athelstan’s jaw drops in a silent scream. The sudden stretch burns slightly, but he likes a little side dish of pain with his pleasure. 
Ragnar sits up, folding his legs underneath him. Athelstan’s legs are still propped up on Ragnar’s shoulders, stretching to stay up there as he moves. He unhurriedly thrusts his digits in and out of Ath’s tight hole, watching smugly as a lewd expression spreads across his lover’s face. Using his free hand, Ragnar holds Athelstan’s left leg steady, peppering light kisses along his meaty calf. 
“You can—fuck—you can add another finger; please add another finger,” he begs, fighting to keep his eyes open and focused on Ragnar. 
He chuckles, but it sounds like it came from the Vikingr’s chest instead of his throat. “What if I don’t?” The pads of his fingers just barely brush against Ath’s sweet spot, enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. “Weren’t you the one just lecturing me about how patience is a virtue?”
Athelstan huffs in frustration, mildly upset that his words were successfully being used against him. He chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on the first question posed to him instead. “I’d be upset.” He looks up at him with a devilish gaze as if he were daring Ragnar to go through with his threat. They both knew he wouldn’t. Ragnar enjoys taking him apart far too much to deprive him of it just to fulfill an empty threat. 
“Well, we can’t have that, now can we? A God has to keep his subjects happy, after all.” Ragnar slips out of him, wetting his ring finger with his own spit before pressing all three inside. Athelstan blesses his ears with a moan that sounds almost as pretty as he looks. “There we go,” Ragnar mumbles, spreading his fingers apart methodically, occasionally curling them against Ath’s sweet spot. After a few minutes, he deems Athelstan’s hole to be loose enough and pulls out, his knuckles glistening with a combination of their spit. Ragnar removes Athelstan’s legs from their home on his shoulders, motioning for him to sit up.
Quick to obey, he braces himself on the heels of his hands. Ragnar meets him the rest of the way, bending over slightly to kiss him. It’s sweeter than their previous kisses, but it’s not that way for long, Athelstan taking the lead and licking into Ragnar’s eager mouth, turning the sweet kiss into a sloppy makeout. Athelstan anchors his hands in Ragnar’s hair, tugging on it harshly, earning himself a low grumble from the older man. “Let me suck you off, love?” Ath whispers, lightly dragging his teeth down Ragnar’s neck.
He growls, the sound rumbling in his chest handsomely. “Like you need to ask.”
Athelstan wastes no time swapping positions, pulling Ragnar’s underwear down before settling between the man’s spread thighs. He doesn’t beat around the bush, far too eager to get his mouth around Ragnar’s thick cock. Laying down on the cold stone floor, Athelstan presses his face against the crease where Ragnar’s inner thigh meets his pelvis. Breathing in his scent, he lifts his head up and kisses the tip, licking a bead of pre-come off and swallowing. Holding Ragnar’s gaze, Athelstan slowly took him into his hot, wet mouth. Unable to keep his head up, Ragnar closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of Ath’s lips around him. 
“Didn’t know you had such a sinful little mouth, Ath,” Ragnar groans out, putting all his effort towards not fucking his lover’s throat ‘till he can’t speak correctly.
He simply hums around him, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his core. Sinking down to the base, Athelstan chokes slightly when the tip hits the back of his throat. He gradually quickens the pace as he loosens his jaw, allowing for more of Ragnar’s cock to fit down his throat. Returning the favor, Ragnar yanks on Ath’s dark brown curls, keeping him from pulling off for a few seconds. Spit and drool drip from the base of his cock and down his heavy ballsack, eventually pooling on the gray stone beneath them. Ath’s chin is also slick with spit, his beard damp and curling even more due to the moisture. 
With each bob of his head, the room echoes with sounds of him slurping and the occasional gag. One would think Athelstan had no idea he was in a church based on how he was acting, slobbering around a heathen’s cock as if it were what he was put on this Earth to do. He tongues the thick vein running along the underside of Ragnar’s cock, drawing a strangled moan from the man. Ath does it again before moving upwards, focusing all his attention on the overly sensitive head. He teases the slit he finds there, eagerly lapping up all the pre-come that had begun to dribble out. The action causes Ragnar’s cock to throb and his leg to twitch, and he’s quick to tug on Athelstan’s hair again, a silent warning that he’s close. Noticing this, he promptly pulls off with a wet pop sound. His chest heaves as he quickly tries to catch his breath.
Somehow, Ragnar looks in worse shape than Athelstan does, long hair matted against his sweaty forehead, his cock a deep shade of red and oozing pre-come. The perfect depiction of Satan’s temptations laid out in front of him, just begging for Athelstan to come and take a bite. He doesn’t think twice about going against his Lord’s wishes or what it would mean for his soul, far too enraptured in the delicious spread before him to care about some pretty garden his Lord had to offer when he could have Ragnar Lothbrok instead. Not even the King of Kings can win a fight against the King of the Northman. Ragnar beats everything his Holy Father offers him with little effort. Athelstan looks him up and down, drinking in the sight of him as if he were about to devour him whole.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Athelstan shuffles on his knees to straddle Ragnar’s hips, his cock bobbing enticingly in front of Ragnar’s face. The Vikingr gazes up at Athestan, taking in the beauty before him. His rough hands grab greedily at supple hips, thumbs meeting at a belly button surrounded by a thick trail of coarse hair. Ragnar feels Ath’s hungry eyes on him, an unneeded boost to his severely overblown ego. “You look good enough to eat, my love,” he digs his teeth into his bottom lip, returning Ath’s hungry gaze with one of his own.
“Good enough for a God?” Athelstan asks, voice dripping with lust.
Ragnar pretends to contemplate the question as he rolls his hips upwards to grind against Athelstan’s. “Depends on what His sinful little disciple can offer Him.”
Licking his lips, Ath splays his hands over Ragnar’s chest, tracing over long healed scars with his fingertips. “He can devote his life in service to Him.” Athelstan can’t articulate why, but speaking of himself in the third person like this stirs something within him that makes a pleasurable heat pool in his abdomen. “Devote himself to loving Him, serving Him, obeying Him.” He leans down as he speaks, slowly coming nose-to-nose with Ragnar. Athelstan shifts further down Ragnar’s abdomen, ass now nestled just above Ragnar’s cock. “Would He like that?”
Ragnar’s mouth curls in a devilish grin, grinding against his plush ass. “He’d have to renounce his previous Lord. This God doesn’t like to share with others.”
He kisses the edge of Ragnar’s mouth, knowing how it drives him mad. “Will his new Lord take care of him for eternity?” Ragnar turns Ath’s head to face him properly, his pointer and middle fingers holding his chin as he captures Ath’s lips in a heated kiss. The passion within his embrace serves as Ragnar’s answer, something Athelstan effortlessly picks up on. 
Ragnar pulls away enough to whisper against his lips, switching back to first-person language, his brain too addled with lust to adequately phrase sentences that way for any longer. “How about you make yourself nice’n pretty for your new God?”
“How does He want me?” Athelstan nips at Ragnar’s ear before kissing it, almost like an apology for biting him.
“On all fours, face down,” he slaps Ath’s ass, and Athelstan yelps in surprise, “ass up like you’re praying.” Athelstan gets off of him, but not without a furious red blush flooding from his cheeks to color his pale chest beautifully. Sitting up, he watches how quick Ath is to obey his request. It merely fuels the flames of Ragnar’s ego, making him even more eager to take Athelstan apart piece by piece and put him back together in his own image.
Ath makes a show of bending over, swaying his hips as he goes, and arching his back, making him the picture of temptation. “Like this?” he asks innocently, spreading his legs and looking over his shoulder at him, resting his weight on his forearms. 
Ragnar settles behind him, shamelessly running his hands over the globes of Athelstan’s ass. “Mmhm, just like this. Such a sinful little worshiper you are. Defiling your previous Lord’s house, throwing away your chance for holiness without a second thought.” Ragnar fists his cock, spitting on it to get it wet again. He taps it against Athelstan’s still loose hole, watching it clench desperately around nothing. 
Athelstan’s cock throbs pathetically at Ragnar’s words, sending a whole body shiver through him. He presses his ass into Ragnar’s hands, silently pleading for Ragnar to bury himself deep inside. All it accomplishes, however, is getting the Vikingr to smack his thick cock against him again. 
“I think,” he hums, pausing solely to draw out Ath’s torment, “you should beg your abandoned Lord for forgiveness.” Ragnar presses his cockhead against Athelstan’s entrance, barely dipping inside before retreating. “You are sinning in his house, after all.” Athelstan gasps at his proposition, and Ragnar takes advantage of his lover’s shock, deciding it to be the perfect opportunity to push inside him. He bullies his way inside, not stopping to give Ath time to adjust until his balls are pressed against Ath’s thighs.
“Ragnar!” he yelps, the sudden intrusion knocking the breath from his lungs. On top of having been a while since they last laid together, Ragnar’s cock is far thicker than the three fingers he prepared him with, so there’s a slight burn in the stretch as he bottoms out. “Fuck, you’re so stupidly big!” Ath whines, gripping the makeshift pillow in an attempt to stay grounded. 
He tsks at him. “That’s no way to talk to your Lord, Athelstan. Don’t you think?” Without waiting for a response, Ragnar pulls out nearly all the way, leaving just the tip. He grips Athelstan’s hips roughly, the pads of his fingers squeezing the soft, unmarred skin there.
He panics at the sudden empty feeling, immediately backtracking, determined to be a good boy for Ragnar. “No,” he choked on his words, his brain moving faster than his mouth could keep up with. “No, it’s not; please forgive me!”
“I’m not who you should be apologizing to, remember?” Ragnar goads as he sinks back inside at a gruelingly slow pace. “Or should I pull out to help jog your memory?” Keeping one hand on Ath’s hip, Ragnar sinks his right hand in Ath’s dark brown curls, tugging his head up to force him to look at the cross directly behind the nativity scene before them. “You tell me stories of how Jesus died for your sins, only for you to shame him by sinning in his chapel.”
Athelstan whimpers and whines, shamelessly canting his hips back on Ragnar’s cock. “Please don’t pull out,” he begs, sniffling. Despite how he sounds, Athelstan doesn’t think he’s ever been this aroused in all his thirty-five years of life. Made to gaze upon the man he had once dedicated his life to serving, on his knees in mock prayer, but it wasn’t Jesus he was praying to this time. It looks unlikely he’ll ever pray to the Heavenly Father or His son again after this, having found something much sweeter and far more rewarding. Something more real to Athelstan than the figure on the wall or the marble Blessed Virgin Mother in front of him ever will be.
The unmistakable sound of Ragnar snarking breaks him out of his thoughts. He’s remained unmoving since bottoming out a second time, providing a deep-seated, pleasurable pressure within Ath’s abdomen. “I’m not above using you as my own personal cockwarmer until you start begging, darling,” he threatens, only this time Athelstan knows it’s not an empty one. 
Unfortunately, Athelstan’s bratted too close to the sun more often than he cares to admit. This might end up one of those times if he doesn’t play his cards correctly. “What do you want me to beg for, Ragnar?” he questions cheekily, playing dumb, knowing exactly how to get the reaction he wants from Ragnar. 
Ragnar yanks on his hair as a warning. “You’ve been good up ‘till now, little priest,” his deep voice rumbles low in his throat, words sticky with pent-up desire, the little self-control he has left quickly deteriorating with every passing minute. “I wouldn’t go fucking it up now if I were you.” He emphasizes it with a slow, punishing roll of his hips, cockhead brushing against Athelstan’s sweet spot. “But if you don’t want me to fuck you after all, keep doing what you’re doing, sweetheart.”
The moan Ath lets out is utterly sinful, and Ragnar hasn’t begun to fuck him in earnest yet. He briefly debates his options, but it wasn’t a hard decision. Solidifying his gaze on the nailed God before him, Athelstan began to pray for the Lord’s forgiveness. “Lord, I seek Your forgiveness and healing. Help me to release the weight of the guilt and shame that I carry.”
“Aww, there we go, little priest. Beg to your nailed god,” Ragnar taunts. He pulls out again and truly starts to fuck him now, thrusting into him quickly. The hand on Ath’s hip squeezes tightly, sure to leave bruises later. Ragnar tugs Athelstan’s hips back on each thrust he gives. The chapel echoes with sounds of skin slapping against skin and Athelstan’s choked, moaned prayers. Sweat slides down the ridges of Ath’s spine and pools in the divots at the end of his tailbone. “Imagine how disappointed he must be in you, Athelstan,” he says with a yank of his hair. He drapes himself across Ath’s back so he can whisper into his ear. “Once a pious little monk,” Ragnar delivers a particularly harsh thrust, hitting a pleasurable bundle of nerves inside Athelstan. “Now reduced to a devilish sinner by a blasphemous pagan.”
Athelstan wonders briefly about where in the world Ragnar could’ve learned that word, but the arousal thrumming through his body made any coherent train of thought impossible. He was barely managing to get out his prayers, let alone anything in addition to that. “Grant me strength, ‘O—oh fuuck—‘O Lord, to learn from my previous mistakes and help me grow,” Athelstan stops mid-sentence, interrupting himself with a slutty moan. “Ragnar, Ragnar, fucking hell, you’re so deep,” he whines, rolling his hips back on each thrust he gives.
His lips curl in a cocky smile. “How’s it feel, sweetheart?” The hand in Ath’s hair twists, making him groan loudly.
“It feels s’good, Ragnar!” He moans, white-knuckling Ragnar’s abandoned tunic. Ath fights his eyes from rolling back in his head, desperate not to appear as how slutty he feels. It doesn’t work. “Harder, Ragnar, please!” He almost forgets to continue his prayers, but a perfectly aimed thrust to his prostate reminds him of his orders. “‘O Lord, I thank You for even though I am a sinner, in the kindness of Your mercy!” Athelstan feels shame flood over him and the omnipotent eyes of Jesus Christ boring into him from across the room. Judging him, condemning him, and casting him down from the light of heaven, sentencing his soul to the fiery pit of hell for eternity. But that humiliating feeling is accompanied by a shameful pleasure that greedily spreads throughout his entire body, making his extremities tingle.
Ragnar is more than happy to oblige, fucking into him at a punishing speed, hips moving at a godlike speed. Each thrust hits Athelstan’s sweet spot dead on, ripping a loud moan from him every time. “You’re still so tight, Ath.” He bites the fleshy junction of his shoulder and neck, leaving a blotchy red mark in his wake. “It’s like your god made you to be wrapped around my cock like this.” He releases his hold on Ath’s hair, moving to fist Athelstan’s red, leaking cock instead. His hand nearly engulfed his cock entirely, just the tip peeking out from above his fingers. “What do you think, hm? You think he made you just for me?”
Ath manages to nod, biting his lip so hard it nearly bleeds. He’s given up praying for forgiveness now, his mind all-encompassed by Ragnar and the arousal coursing through his veins. “Just—Just for you, always been just for you!” He cants his hips into Ragnar’s hand, needy for any and all friction he could get against his poor, neglected cock. “Please, please, please, Ragnar!” he begs, unsure exactly what he’s begging for, just that he needs more of whatever it is. 
“Please, please, please!” Ragnar mocks and Athelstan can practically see the conniving smirk he wears in his mind’s eye. “Please what, little priest? Can’t give it to you if I don’t know what it is.” Athelstan’s whole body shudders from his next thrust, eyes quickly rolling back from the intensity of it.
He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out are incoherent moans and slutty whimpers. “Please—oh, right there! Please, just, more, more of—fuuck—everything, please, Ragnar!” Ath’s arms give out from underneath him, his weight resting on his shoulders, cheek pressed against the cold stone floor.
“More, hm?” Ragnar slows his movements, earning himself a pathetic whine from his lover. “Even with all your pleas for forgiveness, you still want more?”
Ath nods with another high-pitched whine.
“Do you think your precious nailed god would approve of that desire?”
He shakes his head no.
“Perfect,” Ragnar growls, standing up straight once more, drinking in the sight before him as if it were the perfect cup of ale. He takes his hand off Athelstan’s cock and places it on his hip, spreading his cheeks apart with his thumb and forefinger. Reestablishing the pace he had previously, Ragnar watches his cock disappear inside him, a creamy white ring of pre-come circling his base. “I hope he’s watching when I paint your pretty insides and fully claim you as mine,” he pairs his words with a punishing thrust, far harder than anything else he’d delivered previously. “Watches me take you from him for good this time.”
Each thrust is like electricity, sending tingles from his toes to his fingertips. “Yours, Ragnar,” he hiccups, “Yours, make me yours!” 
Ragnar lands a harsh smack to Ath’s asscheek, a slightly pink handprint blooming across his pale skin. “Always have been mine, little priest. Ever since I stole you from your comfy little monastery.” He angles his hips so he hits Ath’s sweet spot with every thrust. “I wanna hear you say it. Tell your beloved god who you truly belong to.”
“You! I belong to you!” he cries, voice bouncing off the walls, echoing his shame for all close enough to hear. 
He yanks Ath’s head up, forcing him to speak directly to the cross instead of begging into the floor. Ragnar hoists him almost entirely off the floor, now barely able to graze the stone with his fingertips. “Look him in the eye when you speak, sweetheart. After all, you can’t disgrace him further by being rude, and I’m sure you don’t want that.” Ragnar’s words are soaked with liquid sin, the droplets burning a hole in the consecrated floors of this sacred building he’s corrupting with each passing minute. 
Athelstan hums a yes and repeats himself, staring into the cold, metal eyes of Jesus, his former savior, who died to atone for humanity’s sinful souls. Even though it’s only a statue, Ath felt as if it were Jesus himself nailed there, flesh and blood dripping to the floor with cold splats. He can practically see him there, gold and brown colored metal morphing into pale skin marred with rivers of red. “I’m sorry, ‘O Lord! Please bless me with your kind mercy!” he cries out in his thoughts, but deep down, he knows it’s not a genuine apology. He knows God knows as well. Ath doubts his soul will be cleansed, but he can’t doesn’t care any longer. He has a new God. 
“Tell him who you belong to.” Ragnar’s thrusts don’t let up, somehow gaining in force instead. 
Ath swallows thickly before speaking, eyebrows pressing upward, his face screwed together in overwhelming pleasure. “You! I belong to you!”
Ragnar twists Ath’s curls in his fist. “Who? Say my name, Athelstan. He might believe you’re talking about him.”
“You, Ragnar!”
“Hm? I can’t hear you, Athelstan; you’ve got to speak up, or else he won’t hear you, either,” Ragnar goads, grinding his hips hard against his ass. 
The curve of Athelstan’s spine is nearly pornographic. Ath scrambles to find something to hold onto but comes up empty-handed. “I belong to Ragnar! You, Ragnar!” he yells, stretching his arm backward to grip the back of Ragnar’s head, fingers anchoring in his hair. “Oh, my God—oh, my god fuck—I’m close, Ragnar, please!” 
Ragnar releases his grip on Ath’s hair to wrap his arm around Ath’s stomach, holding him closer than believed possible. He presses his sweaty forehead against Athelstan’s shoulder, his thrusts growing uneven and sloppy as he approaches his limit as well. “Fuck, Ath-Athelstan,” he stutters, the mask he wore cracking at the edges, revealing just how desperate he really is. “Fuuck, yes, that’s it, you’re so fucking hot like this, baby. Fucked open and needy, just for me and no one else.” Ragnar splays his fingers over the tensed muscles of Athelstan’s stomach, pressing down gently.
“No one else, all yours, my love,” Ath babbles, leaning his head back to rest on top of Ragnar’s. His chest heaves with each gulp of air he takes, the lower half of his ribs showing slightly every time his stomach sucks in. “Gonna—oh, fuck, there—gonna cum!” 
“Cum for me, Ath, make a pretty mess all over my hand, fuuck,” Ragnar moans out, words warbly and uneven as he does his best to speak without stumbling over everything. “You’re so pretty, so good for me.” His thrusts quickly lose whatever rhythm they had left as he reaches his climax, spilling his cum deep inside Ath’s spasming entrance. 
Athelstan’s cock throbs and twitches when he feels Ragnar’s orgasm, his own cum spurting all over his stomach and Ragnar’s hand. His legs shake violently, toes curling and uncurling in tandem with each spurt of his cock. The short nails of his left hand rake across Ragnar’s back and side, making the man shiver. As they both come down from their highs, a mix of Ath’s cum and sweat drips wetly onto the floor. He can feel Ragnar breathing heavily against his back, finding his equally exhausted presence comforting.
As his cock softens, Ragnar carefully slips out of him, a rush of cum quickly following. Shivering, Athelstan shuffles to turn around before Ragnar does. Now face to face with his lover, Ragnar kisses him gently, as if Athelstan would break if treated too roughly, a stark difference from how Ragnar was manhandling him a few minutes prior. He tilts his head to one side and cups Athelstan’s unmarred cheek with his clean hand, thumb stroking his sweaty cheekbone. Ath licks into his mouth, nose pressing into Ragnar’s scarred one. The kiss lasts for both years and only a handful of seconds simultaneously. Neither knows who pulls away first. “Are you okay, Ath?” he asks, rubbing his nose against Ath’s.
He nods with a hum. “Are you?” Ragnar nods, too. “Didn’t know you had that in you, baby.”
Ragnar snickers, kissing the tip of his nose. “And this surprises you?”
“Nothing about you surprises me. Not anymore.” Athelstan scrunches his nose cutely after he kisses it. “We’ll have to be quick about cleaning up; someone might come looking for us.”
Ragnar snags his tunic off the floor and uses it to wipe away the cum dripping from between Ath’s legs. “Did you mean what you said? About belonging to me and only me? Forever?” he asks somewhat quietly, the insecurity he shows uncharacteristic of him. 
“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Ragnar,” Ath says softly, his voice soothing, like a wool-lined blanket on a cold winter’s night, calming any worries Ragnar might be harboring within him. “You know that.”
Dropping his now-soiled tunic, Ragnar wraps his arms around him in a tight hug, corded muscles flexing beneath his skin. “Good; perfect. You’re perfect.”
Athelstan drapes his arms over Ragnar’s shoulders, hugging him back just as—if not more—tightly. Ragnar traces shapeless designs into the skin of Ath’s lower back, pressing soft, grounding kisses along the column of his neck. He kisses the bite mark he left, which is now starting to bruise. They slowly sink to the floor, Athelstan sitting in Ragnar’s lap, legs on either side of his waist, head resting against the lower part of his shoulder. “I love you, you know.”
“I know. I love you, too,” Ragnar says, almost as if he’s been saying it to him for decades, not years. As if every time he’s said it, it’s always been for Athelstan, even before he knew him. As if his love is reserved for Athelstan and Athelstan only. He lays his cheek on the top of his head, careful not to dig his chin into Ath’s skull. “When we go home in the spring, we’ll hold the biggest feast our halls have ever seen.”
Ath gazes up at him the best he can. “What for? What’ll we be celebrating, other than a successful return like always?”
Ragnar holds his hand, lacing their fingers together. “A wedding.”
“A wedding?” Ath questions, getting a nod in response. “Who’s?”
Ragnar breaks his gaze, looking up at the ceiling. “Our wedding.”
Blindsighted but elated, Athelstan shifts to look at him properly, refocusing Ragnar’s eyes where they belong—on him. “Our wedding?” Ragnar calmly nods like he didn’t just propose to him. “You need to work on your proposal skills, darling,” he giggles as a stupidly wide, toothy grin spreads across his face.
“Is that a yes, then?” Ragnar asks, donning a toothy smile of his own.
Athelstan holds Ragnar’s face in his hands and kisses him. “You dumbass, of course, it’s a yes.”
Ragnar kisses him again, then litters small kisses across his cheeks, chin, forehead, and anywhere else he can easily reach. “Perfect,” he kisses Ath’s lips. “Next time I take you, it’ll be on our marriage bed.”
“Ragnar!” Athelstan gasps with a slight laugh. His words made his softened cock twitch in curiosity. “You can’t just say that!”
“Yes, I can.” Ragnar squeezes his waist. “We both know you love it,” he teases, pressing his thumbs into Ath’s soft abdomen, messing up the dark hair there.
He rolls his eyes with a dramatic sigh, unlacing his hand from Ragnar’s so he can drape them over Ragnar’s shoulders again. Ath holds his own hand, lacing his fingers together. “You’re so insufferable, you know that?”
Ragnar grins cheekily, far too proud of the fact. “You love it, don’t even try and deny it.”
“What if I do deny it? What’ll you do then?” Athelstan asks, licking his lips and shifting his hips to brush against Ragnar’s cock, who’s making an effort to chub up again. 
He nips at Athelstan’s nose as a warning, a grin still spread across his face. “Something we can’t get caught doing in here, baby.” He reaches back to grab Athelstan’s tunic, blue eyes never leaving pale ones. Ath slips it over his head and stands, tugging on his trousers. Ragnar copies him, minus a shirt. They gather their things and clean their fluids off the floor as best as they can manage with the little supplies available. Once it looks like nothing sinful has occurred, the pair leaves the chapel hand in hand, eagerly heading for Ragnar’s chambers. 
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