They never plan for it, but they both know they look forward to it.
Every Friday, without fail, Kaveh smirks knowingly at Alhaitham from behind his beer mug when he spots the outline of his roommate’s growing erection under the table.
And every Friday, without fail, Alhaitham rips Kaveh’s pants off to a familiar pair of red thongs, already soaked in warm slick.
The sex lasts at least three rounds, either until Alhaitham’s cock pulses dry, or until Kaveh passes out completely from pleasure.
On Saturday mornings, Alhaitham wakes up first. He shuffles off the duvet and puts on briefs and a white tank top.
But Kaveh is a light sleeper.
He watches like a hawk as the taut fabric stretches over Alhaitham’s cock, squeezing tight around his thick thighs.
The angry red scratches on his shoulder blades are still visible through his thinly-stretched top, and the final straw—his full breasts, nipples peeking through, leaving little to what’s left of Kaveh’s imagination.
And that’s when Alhaitham catches Kaveh watching, unapologetic, bright carmine eyes blinking up at him as he bites his lip.
A pointed foot extends from the sheets, toes gently sliding up Alhaitham’s thigh.
Kaveh nudges his briefs up, just a little bit, and Alhaitham zeroes in on the way Kaveh’s throat shifts as he swallows, already hungry for breakfast.
And then Kaveh is gagging on Alhaitham’s full cock, tears streaming down the corners of his eyes.
It is silent in the room save for the sound of Alhaitham grunting as he fucks into Kaveh’s throat, and the obscene wetness of Kaveh being so, so good, taking him all in.
Kaveh’s chin is shiny with spit, his throat bulging, stretched sore as Alhaitham pumps warm cum right into his belly.
When he’s done, Alhaitham takes the time to admire his work—beautiful, breathless, brazen Kaveh. Hair mussed, cheeks burning, lips shiny and swollen.
It’s time to start their day, for real this time.
“I really have to get to work,” Kaveh lies, every Saturday morning after giving Alhaitham the blowjob of a lifetime.
He gets up and puts on his thong, and then starts to do his hair in the mirror, where he can see Alhaitham grazing over every inch of his body with crazed eyes.
His ass is still red from all the squeezing and spanking last night, bruises by his waist, his wrists, his arms.
Bite marks are littered all across his neck, his shoulders, and between the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
For the finishing move, Kaveh drops one of his hairpins on the floor.
He kneels down to find it—because it’s simply nowhere to be found—hands wandering aimlessly under the vanity.
Alhaitham is treated to a full view of pussy, red thong sinking down deliciously between Kaveh’s puffy lips as he arches his back further.
His cunt blushes pink, raw from the multiple rounds of ruthless fingering and pounding last night.
Slick oozes down the side of Kaveh’s thigh, along with hints of Alhaitham’s seed, which he had so lovingly planted in Kaveh’s womb before.
Seconds later, the thong is pushed aside—Alhaitham has no time to waste.
And then Kaveh is a moaning mess, face pressed against the parquet as Alhaitham buries his face in his cunt, fingertips white from how hard he’s gripping onto Kaveh’s thighs.
He drinks, like a parched man who lost his way in the desert, licking into Kaveh’s folds, gathering sweet, sweet nectar.
He tastes himself in Kaveh, relishing every drop as Kaveh’s legs tremble beneath him, threatening to give way.
And then he sucks hard on the clit and Kaveh’s screams, his entire body convulsing in shock.
Alhaitham savours the taste of his squirt, swallowing and licking until there’s nothing left.
They fall back asleep, exhausted, the heady scent of sex thick in the air of Alhaitham’s bedroom.
And every week, by late Saturday afternoon, when the sun hangs high in the sky, Alhaitham’s recently-washed bedsheets hang outside to dry.
It’s 2AM. Alhaitham is still up, reading on the couch, because Kaveh isn’t home yet.
After what seems like an eternity of idle page-flipping and not-really reading, Alhaitham hears shuffling footsteps and a key jiggling clumsily into the lock.
Kaveh stumbles into the house and drops his belongings at the threshold the moment he sees Alhaitham.
Wordlessly, he shuffles forward and flops right onto Alhaitham’s lap, straddling him.
He reeks of cheap alcohol—must be that monthly sale at Lambad’s again.
“Hi,” he whispers with a giggle, cheeks flushed, pupils blown.
“Good morning, Kaveh,” Alhaitham croaks, mouth suddenly very dry.
Kaveh smiles and leans in to kitten-lick the side of Alhaitham’s neck.
“You smell nice,” Kaveh sighs, hot breath making Alhaitham dizzy.
He always gets like this when he’s drunk—all pretty and wanton and flirtatious, leaving Alhaitham to fight for his life trying not to take advantage of the situation.
And to Alhaitham’s frustration, Kaveh wakes up the next morning, back to normal, not remembering a single thing.
Kaveh peppers light kisses along the side of Alhaitham’s neck, and Alhaitham’s hands instinctively wrap around Kaveh to hold him in place.
Kaveh chuckles at the touch. He looks at Alhaitham so fondly, the latter feels his heart ache.
“Haitham,” Kaveh whines, gently cupping Alhaitham’s face. He kisses Alhaitham languidly, open-mouthed and messy.
And Alhaitham knows he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he kisses back, because he will never have another chance.
His eyelids flutter shut, his hands glide along the exposed skin of Kaveh’s back. He feels so smooth, and so, so warm.
Alhaitham’s finger fiddles along the hem of Kaveh’s shirt, not daring to explore skin beneath the fabric, for fear it might burn him.
Kaveh only stops to open his eyes and look at Alhaitham again, before going in for another kiss. And another, and another.
Until Alhaitham is drunk on Kaveh’s kisses.
“I like you a lot, you know?” Kaveh says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Alhaitham’s chest clenches painfully. He knows those are words Kaveh will never say sober. And so he replies truthfully.
“I don’t.”
Kaveh frowns, as if offended by this.
“I can prove it,” he promises, tracing his finger around the emerald gem on Alhaitham’s chest. He bends down and flicks his tongue against the gem. Alhaitham’s moan is poorly stifled.
Kaveh giggles and pulls Alhaitham into another kiss.
“I know you like me too,” Kaveh whispers against Alhaitham’s lips, before grinding his hips hard against Alhaitham’s.
He gasps, blood shooting to his groin. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he definitely is now.
Kaveh keeps going, and Alhaitham feels Kaveh getting stiffer too.
“Kaveh, wait—” Alhaitham is cut off with another kiss, and Kaveh thrusts even faster.
Alhaitham can barely keep it together. Kaveh’s face is inches away from his, eyes half-lidded and hazy, hot breath mingling with his own.
“Fuck,” Alhaitham pants, sliding his hand up Kaveh’s thigh.
They frot until Alhaitham’s hips lift off the couch, chasing his climax.
Then, Kaveh grinds to a stop and unzips both of their pants. His cock springs up, pink and slick with precum.
Kaveh looks at Alhaitham’s cock hungrily, swiping a bead of precum at the tip. He licks it off his finger and wraps his hand around both of them. “Kaveh, I don’t think we should—”
Kaveh starts pumping, and Alhaitham loses all restraint.
He presses Kaveh’s hips firmly against his, and Kaveh’s grip tightens in response.
Alhaitham thinks he might be losing his mind.
They kiss again, sloppier this time as Kaveh pumps faster, stomach clenching as he approaches his climax.
“Haitham,” Kaveh whimpers into Alhaitham’s mouth, needy, desperate.
Alhaitham takes over, pumping harder and faster than Kaveh can go.
Kaveh cums almost immediately, crying out with his release. He shakes like a leaf as he spurts ribbons onto Alhaitham’s stomach.
Alhaitham follows shortly after, groaning as he cums all over Kaveh’s thighs.
Kaveh lies on Alhaitham, their chests rising and falling in sync as they catch their breaths.
Alhaitham relishes in the moment, stroking Kaveh’s hair, drawing circles on his back.
And then Kaveh is snoring softly, fatigue finally taking over.
Alhaitham wordlessly cleans him up and carries him to his room.
He tucks Kaveh under the blanket and caresses his sleeping face. He ponders for a moment and allows himself to press a chaste kiss to Kaveh’s forehead.
It’s okay, Alhaitham thinks, as he steals another glance at Kaveh before closing the door.
It’s okay, because Kaveh will not remember this in the morning.
It’s been exactly 7 years since Kaveh’s mother left him behind in Sumeru.
Each year on this day, Kaveh is a little quieter than usual, a little more distracted than usual.
His mind is filled with what-ifs, regrets, and silent self-loathing.
“Stop playing with your food.”
Kaveh looks up from his plate in surprise. Alhaitham is watching him from across the table, his own plate already empty.
“Oh, sorry,” Kaveh mutters, looking down at his half-eaten fatteh. His appetite is too poor to finish it.
“I’ll wash the dishes.”
Kaveh takes his time with the dishes, finding comfort in the echo chamber of self-hatred that is his mind. He deserves this.
A pair of arms snake their way around his waist, startling him. Kaveh feels Alhaitham press a kiss to his nape. He tucks Kaveh’s messy hair behind his ear, his other hand sliding lower to Kaveh’s hip.
“Want to shower together?”
Shower sex does sound like the perfect distraction. Besides, Alhaitham has given Kaveh everything he needs and more.
Who the hell is he to say no?
“Okay.”
When they’re entangled in the steam later, Alhaitham pulls back from a deep kiss to ask Kaveh, “Up for anything in particular tonight?”
Kaveh smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Have your way with me.”
He’d expected to be bent in half and fucked senseless, pushed up against the marble wall and pounded numb.
Manhandled and abused like he so deserves.
What he did not expect was Alhaitham kissing every visible inch of his skin, holding him as though he might break like glass.
Whispering sweet nothings into his ear and praising him with every extra finger he slides in.
Alhaitham has never been this affectionate. Sure, they’re a couple, sure, Kaveh knows he cares, but he never knew just how much.
He never knew he could be loved like this.
Kaveh cries when he cums.
He cries and cries, hands shaking in front of his eyes, not wanting to see Alhaitham’s reaction to him in this pathetic state.
Alhaitham says nothing. He holds Kaveh up in a hug, arms still strong and unwavering even after sex.
“Was the sex that good?” He jokes, gently tracing circles on Kaveh’s back. Kaveh chuckles between sobs despite himself.
“I told you to have your way with me,” he murmurs into the crook of Alhaitham’s neck.
“I did,” Alhaitham replies easily. He sets Kaveh down on his feet and cradles Kaveh’s head in his hands, guiding it to face him.
Kaveh doesn’t have it in him to look Alhaitham in the eyes—he probably looks like shit from all the sobbing.
“Your eyes are swollen,” Alhaitham says, swiping away the tears under them. “Sleep early tonight.”
Kaveh nods obediently. He turns to step out of the shower, and Alhaitham pulls him back in.
“Do you promise?”
“Yes—”
“I don’t believe you. Sleep in my room tonight.”
Before Kaveh can react, Alhaitham sweeps him off his feet and carries him out of the shower.
“What?! Haitham!” Kaveh yelps, squirming in his arms. “Put me down!”
Alhaitham wordlessly releases Kaveh, who lands butt-first on the very cold marble floor.
“What is wrong with you?” Kaveh yells, scrambling to stand up. He jabs Alhaitham in the chest as he rambles.
“Why would you even drop me like that?! And don’t ask me to promise something if you aren’t going to believe me, asshole!”
Alhaitham just smiles at him.
“What?” Kaveh snaps.
“Feeling better already, I see.”
“You—” Kaveh feels his face burn red with embarrassment. Finally accepting that he has lost, he huffily towels himself off and tucks himself into one side of Alhaitham’s bed, laying on his side and pretending to sleep.
After a few minutes, he feels the mattress sink down behind him as Alhaitham gets into bed. He slings an arm over Kaveh’s body. A comforting weight, reassuring Kaveh that he’s not alone.
“Sweet dreams, Kaveh.”
Kaveh stays still for a moment, until he’s sure Alhaitham is asleep.
Then, he holds Alhaitham’s hand and kisses his palm.
“Thank you,” he breathes into it. In response, he feels a kiss against the back of his neck.
Goddamn it. He just can’t win against Alhaitham.
But then Alhaitham’s fingers curl tighter around his own.
Warmth pools in Kaveh’s chest. He intertwines their fingers and thinks to himself, “Maybe it’s for the best.”
He says “come here”, and cradles Kaveh’s head close. Sometimes he threads his fingers through Kaveh’s hair, sometimes he kisses the top of his head, sometimes he leans his head against Kaveh’s.
He does it when Kaveh is absorbed in his work, chewing on a pencil. He does it when Kaveh is on the brink of tears, complaining about an unreasonable deadline. He does it when Kaveh laughs at the exact same scene in his favourite movie for the 67th time.
He does it after he teases Kaveh and realises he’s gone a little too far. He does it in the middle of their arguments when Kaveh’s flinging his arms everywhere. He does it when Kaveh is drunk, cheeks pink and hiccuping.
He does it in the middle of sex, when Kaveh is gasping for breath and trying so hard to take all of him in. He does it after sex, when Kaveh’s hair and face are a mess, skin damp and warm and glowing. He does it when Kaveh whispers “I love you” in the dead of night.
“Say it back,” Kaveh says one night. “You love me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then say it.”
“Are my actions not proof enough?”
Kaveh rolls his eyes. “it’s three words, Mr. Haravatat. You of all people should know the power of words.”
Alhaitham says nothing. he brushes hair out of Kaveh’s eyes, taking in the curve of his lashes, the pink dusting the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not enough,” he says finally, grazing his thumb over Kaveh’s bottom lip.
“What do you mean?” Kaveh asks, this time without any of the haughtiness.
“What I feel for you,” Alhaitham says, tracing his finger under Kaveh’s jaw, “words do not justify it.”
Kaveh just looks at him, moonlight catching in his scarlet eyes.
“But if it pleases you so,” Alhaitham whispers, lips pressing against the shell of Kaveh’s ear.
And in the softest voice, only for Kaveh’s ears, Alhaitham says, “I love you.”
He draws back to see Kaveh red as a beet. He shoves Alhaitham away, embarrassment practically steaming off the top of his head.
“You…!” Kaveh sputters, cupping his face in a desperate attempt to cool himself down. “You sap!” he curses venomously, and Alhaitham chuckles.
“Come here,” he says, cupping the back of Kaveh’s feverish head with his hand.
And as always, Kaveh leans in, utterly melting into Alhaitham’s embrace.
Out of nowhere, Thoma feels something hard rub against his clothed cock. His knee jerks up in shock, slamming against the underside of the table. Shogi pieces fly out of place, tea spills everywhere.
“W-what—"
“Oh no, Thoma,” Ayato says with a pout, “you’ve messed up our game.”
He lifts Thoma’s chin up with a long finger. “How will you make it up to me?”
In which Thoma is uncomfortably turned on, and Ayato loves to watch him squirm.
“Childe,” Zhongli says, voice low and serious. “I never received any of your letters.”
Childe blinks.
“Yeah?” He smiles a little sadly at Zhongli. “Maybe they got lost in transit.”
Zhongli’s eyebrows furrow slightly at the obvious lie, but he nods anyway. The silence in the air grows thick, and Childe finds it harder and harder to breathe.
In which Childe returns to Liyue months later, and an attempt at reconciliation is made.
finally got around to finishing this wip that’s been sitting in my folder for months, enjoy :)
“Yeah, so I dragged him away, we fucked, and then he told me I reminded him of someone. No prizes for guessing who.” Rosaria lifts up three fingers and counts off them, “He said we share sooooo much in common: red hair, fatherless, vigilante.”
Espresseleine | General Audiences | 5.1k | Completed
“I think it’s cute that he does so much for you.”
Espresso hid his red face behind his coffee cup. “What are you talking about? That Cookie is dramatic about everything. It is not as if he goes out of his way for me, if that is what you are implying. Now, can we please stop talking about him? It is ruining my morning.”
Latte shook her head and sighed.
“You know, for someone who is so deeply in denial, you’re terribly obvious about it.”
In which Espresso comes to terms with his feelings for Madeleine.
okay, I think I have finally learned to embrace my identity as a cookie fucker. enjoy!
As Toshiro walks out the door, Kagura returns, sucking on a lollipop. She stares at Gintoki, who’s sat on his futon, surrounded by a pile of cheap sex store costumes. Gintoki sucks in a breath, ready to explain himself, when Kagura holds her hand up to stop him.
“It’s okay, Gin-chan. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.” She sighs and shakes her head solemnly, shuffling back to the living room. Gintoki is speechless. He has never known the touch of a mother, but this pang of indignant shame feels strangely familiar.
In which Gintoki wants to try something new for Valentine’s Day.
I wrote this as a birthday gift for the wonderful @tippytrap, and it’s heavily inspired by the modern family episode ‘my funky valentine’. it was fun writing self-indulgent ginhiji and their stupid bantering again, hope you guys like it.
“Oh, we’ve met before. Isn’t that right, Megumi?” Sukuna shoots him a devilish grin as he drags Megumi’s name out on his tongue.
“Fushiguro,” Megumi corrects coldly, quietly. Sukuna feels his blood pressure spike, but the grin on his face splits wider. It’s been a while since he’s worked with models who had the balls to stand up to him. This was going to be an interesting shoot.
“Yes. Of course. Fushiguro.”
In which Megumi is an inexperienced model and Sukuna is a real bitch of a photographer.
decided to try writing for a new fandom and came up with this for my two friends, who happen to both have birthdays in August and love sukufushi.
“Oh, we’ve met before. Isn’t that right, Megumi?” Sukuna shoots him a devilish grin as he drags Megumi’s name out on his tongue.
“Fushiguro,” Megumi corrects coldly, quietly. Sukuna feels his blood pressure spike, but the grin on his face splits wider. It’s been a while since he’s worked with models who had the balls to stand up to him. This is going to be an interesting shoot.
“Yes. Of course. Fushiguro.”
In which Megumi is an inexperienced model and Sukuna is a real bitch of a photographer.
decided to try writing for a new fandom and came up with this for my two friends, who happen to both have birthdays in August and love sukufushi.
