valiant.

independent fandomless oc. written by moop, est. 2016 - remade 2023. please read rules and about pages before interacting.

[yxkanna]

indie fandomless oc written by moop (she/they). 25+ semi-selective. low activity and (currently) iconless. thanks for reading :)

bio / dossier / rules / nav

multi-muse blog is @cxldblxxded

d&d sideblog is @fatespins

vampire sideblog is @striigon

other multi-muse sideblog is @smcrtcss

jack delroy (late night with the devil canon) is @delrcy

[fairytaletold]

@yxkanna // because that's what you and I do. protect each other.

he likes nick long before he ever meets him. the defiance is there, at the reaping: cash is watching without really seeing, because he fucking hates the reaping and doesn’t want to remember it. if he watches, he’ll feel that panic again. if he sees the faces of the kids getting chosen, he’ll remember how his own face looked, expression twisted in horror and shock.

he’s in the capitol for it, invited to some party he wasn’t really at liberty to decline. two drinks in, a woman on his lap — no one here cares that he’s only seventeen. it doesn’t stop them from plying him with drink, doesn’t save him from the dark eyed looks and knowing smiles he gets tonight, knowing he’ll never leave alone ( but at least he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive—) the woman on his lap hisses, a scandalized sound, and he follows her eyeline back to the screen. the scrawny boy from district 11 has just flipped the camera off, and peacekeepers drag him away as he shouts expletives of rage. around him, the room buzzes incredulously. the woman — cherry? clove? — looks at him, lips a deep purple that he’ll later find doesn’t fully wash out of his shirt. isn’t he awful? she says, like they’re both just spectators, like he hasn’t fucking lived through it. imagine! so ungrateful of him!

cash looks back at the screen and grins.

————————

they don’t talk about what happens here. it’s been years since that first event when cash waylaid him, shell shocked, as the capitol celebrated him for the glory of becoming victor. nick has lifted the unbearable weight just a fraction; he can fucking breathe again, and some nights, these parties are almost fun. sometimes they’re not. if he ever brought it up, nick would obviously understand. but that’s the problem, isn’t it? cash has never known how. he’s never voiced any of it, and he’s sure that the moment he starts, he’ll crack. it will become his undoing.

tonight, he nearly gives in. tonight, the patrons of the party seem to have someone unspoken order that they’ve decided they get to have him in. he dresses in total silence, sits at the end of the bed long after the man has left. ( there’s a name for this, he knows, but it’s never felt like it until now. ) back outside, each sound grates on him. every touch peels back his skin, and he knows — with vivid clarity — that the next person to dare and grab him will fucking die beneath his hands. he’ll end his own life with theirs, and he doesn’t even give a shit.

someone touches his arm. he whirls on them in a black rage, all pretense of civility stripped away to expose the animal beneath. green eyes flare open in shock; cash pauses, surprised to find a hand on a path straight to nick’s neck. someone nearby gasps, and without pause, nick kisses him. tentative horror shifts to delight. around them, voices titter and whisper; foreign fingers brush his back, and before cash can pull away to snap them, nick is drawing him closer, kissing him harder, taking his face between warm hands. don’t. he says it without saying it, because he can’t, they can’t, but they can do this. and when nick starts to drag him away, it’s to obvious, raucous approval.

they lay there afterwards in silence. nick runs a hand through his hair, twirling a finger in the curls as cash looks up at the wall. gone is the tremor of desperation and rage: he’s settled here, skin to skin, absorbing the warmth of nick’s limbs. thank you, he wants to say, but the words stick like thorns within him. it doesn’t matter, anyway. there’s nothing between them that has to be said out loud.

they’re two of the same thing.

[yxkanna]

i forgot to post but sunday the 15th was nicky's birthday happy birthday nicky he's currently pubcrawling looking for trade please wish him the best of luck

[yxkanna]

ouougugh. i'm sick. planning on coming back here in a week or 2 maybe earlier depending on how i'm feeling lol. love u all

[yxkanna]

everyone shut the fuck up and look at this fuckass statue

[malxfide]

IN REALITY, VINCENT should have expected such a reaction. He had opened himself up by keeping his hand so close but he just assumed that he wouldn't do anything like that. But he didn't scream out in pain or anything of the sort; years of suppressing his pain in the moment coming in handy. His jaw clenched, a deep breath forced out all while he was quick to react.

His weight shifted instantly, putting all of it into the spot that pinned his wrist to the ground. And he didn't let up until he heard the familiar snap of bones being crushed. Even then, he wasn't in any rush to remove his weight in an attempt to inflict as much pain as he possibly could.

"Little bastard." Vincent let out before finally yanking his hand back at the first chance he got. He stood up, pressing against his wrist as he looked at the bloodied bite mark on his own hand. It wasn't the end of the world but it was inconvenient and just one more mess.

He finally took his foot off of Nick but only so he could move to crouch over him again, blade back in hand and pressing into the space between his collar bones at the base of his throat. "No, you won't be getting the chance to run even if you wanted to." Annoyance was laced into his voice, looking down at him with waning patience. "Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now."

It was tempting to just shove the blade right into the spot it pressed into but he managed to gather up some restraint. Even as his other hand was bleeding.

[yxkanna]

YEAH, THERE IT goes. Unlike the other, Nick is expecting his wrist to get broken, he’d just hoped it’d be later rather than sooner. He doesn’t have quite the same level of control over his pain (since he’s, y’know, a normal person or something), and so a sharp cry escapes him when those bones crack and shatter under the weight of the man’s boot, wrenched from his chest and allowing him to yank his hand out from his mouth. It’s been a long time since he’s suffered a broken bone, much less one broken out of malice - it’s easy to forget how much it fucking well hurts when you’re not actively subjected to it. The pressure doesn’t relent immediately either, even as Nick hits at that leg to try to get it to release - fuck, fuck his life, God!

THERE’S NO TIME to rally before the knife is at his throat. He feels the tip of it pricking at sweat-laden skin every time he takes a ragged inhalation. He already knows the thing’s sharp enough to slice through him like butter; instinct has his breath quickening, regardless of how well he keeps his head.

THIS IS PROVEN by how he restrains himself from spitting blood back in the other’s face, now that he’s right here. God, he’d love to, but then it’d be his own blood he’d be choking on, probably, and he’s being given an opportunity here, maybe. Maybe he’s just getting his hopes up that he can weasel his way out of this like every other fucked up situation he’s experienced up until now in his stupid little life.

“I’M MORE VALUABLE to you alive,” is his simple explanation, “and I’m more of a pain in the ass if I’m dead. Get this fucking knife off me and let’s talk like normal fucking people.”

[miidnighters]

Matt lets out a huff of laughter, his own wicked grin spreading over his face. "I do like it when you move."

Case in point, as Nick's hips jerk at the touch to his cock. Matt lets out a strangled noise at the interrupted rhythm, eyes fluttering closed. He opens them again, though, after just a minute, because he wants to watch nothing more than the way Nick moves on top of him.

"I know you do, baby. I know. God, I need you too, fuck." It probably won't be too much longer until Matt flips them, but he's not going to tell Nick that yet. If the younger is going to be greedy and desperate, Matt's going to let him work himself into a state of pure need before he does anything about it.

"Tell me how much. Show me, baby."

[yxkanna]

MATT ASKS, AND so he receives. Nick doesn’t need too much more encouragement from him to focus up and get to bouncing properly. Muscles flex as he works himself up and down Matt’s shaft faster now, skin slapping against skin, words falling away from him as he effectively fucks himself on Matt’s cock. Nails drag down his sides as his hands move from his chest to settle just below his ribcage to keep his posture from curling forward.

THE DELICATE ARCH of his throat bobs in a swallow and a moan as Nick lets his head fall back. He knows Matt likes watching him, so he might as well give him more to look at; he’s more focused on his pleasure now anyways than making seductive eye contact or whatever the fuck. He’s already done his seducing, considering how he’s currently riding this poor man stupid in his nice bed.

[miidnighters]

"Good. I want to be able to bend you over whenever I see fit. Suck your cock while you're making dinner. Sit you on my cock while you're trying to focus. You're mine, baby, and I'll make sure you feel it."

There's a groan as Nick starts to move a little more, now, the slide against his shaft initially making Matt's hips follow - but he wants this to last, so he concentrates a little more on laying still and letting Nick show him what he wants.

"Fucking incredible, baby. Hot, and tight. Best thing I've ever felt." He exhales harshly, looking at the lines of Nick's body - where his knees are bent, his proud erection, the line of his chest. "I don't think there's anyone more perfect for me than you. God, baby, if you simply sat on my cock and never moved for the rest of time, I would be a happy man."

Reaching up, teasingly, he runs his thumb over the head of Nick's cock. "I don't have to ask you to tell me the same. You show me how desperate you are to be mine - my little slut - every single day."

[yxkanna]

THE IDEA OF sex is hot, sure, but it’s the fact that he’s so desired that’s getting Nick worked up. The whole thing in the bar could’ve just been a pleasant one-off that neither of them would’ve ever thought about again, but Matt wanted to see him again. He wants him, and God, does Nick want him back. He is Matt’s, isn’t he? Who would’ve guessed a goddamn Magic streamer would’ve laid claim over him.

HE DRINKS IN the praise, observes the unbridled lust in Matt’s gaze; his shoulders straighten under the casual weight of it, elbows tucking in a way that accentuates the sharp angles of his shoulders and waist. Teeth bare in a grin: “But you like it when I move.”

GREEN EYES ROLL back for just a moment when Matt rubs his cock, sensitive as it is, mouth falling agape again as he moans. His rhythm falters for a moment as his hips jerk, but he soldiers on, picking it up and riding Matt just a bit harder now that he’s getting him worked up faster. “I need you,” he affirms, “I need you, Matt, fuck -”

[miidnighters]

Nick's right, at least, about that. Some way or another, eventually Matt will wring another orgasm out of his boyfriend.

Such thoughts are washed away, however, when Nick sinks down on him again. Moans fall out of Matt's mouth to join the youngers - both hands now settling on Nick's hips, leaving his cock unattended for now.

Not for the first time, Matt thinks about how beautiful Nick is. He thinks so most of the time anyway, but especially now - fucked out, and flushed, and taking what he wants.

"Mould your ass into the perfect shape for my cock, hm?" Matt asks, smiling up at him. "It's almost like if I fuck you often enough, we won't ever have to think about prep again. Talking about being my own personal cocksleve - does that mean I get you whenever I want, you insatiable little thing?"

Not that they've really discussed that, and not that now is exactly the time. But Matt's had thoughts about it - and obviously, in his hazy state, he's not taking into account things like jobs. Those are details for tomorrow.

"Still so tight, though. Perfect for me."

[yxkanna]

THE HANDS ON his hips drive him just slightly mad. He's already mad, certainly - but there are few things better than this gorgeous man's hands on his hips, holding him close, holding him tight. He rocks appreciatively on top of him, ribs expanding as he sucks a deep breath between his teeth, nails digging into his chest just a bit.

"WHENEVER YOU WANT, baby," he tells him, "I'm always ready for you, yeah? I need your mouth and your hands and your cock so fucking bad." Jobs do get in the way of constant fucking - his own especially - but it's hot to think about, at least. Roaming the apartment, getting snatched and devoured whenever Matt feels the urge -

NICK'S PICKING UP his pace already, transitioning from his rocking to more of a bounce, easily sliding partway back up his shaft before moving down again - restraining himself from going too fast just yet, since he still wants Matt to take his time fucking him harder later. "I feel good? Tell me how good - tell me how much you love my holes." Tell me how much you love me.

[miidnighters]

"Greedy. Haven't I filled you enough for one night?" Matt hums, letting out a noise when Nick catches his ear. In all, it sounds like a fine fucking plan. His cock is even taking peoper interest now hardening in Nick's hand - and then more when Nick grinds against him.

His free hand moves to Nick's hip, flexing on bare skin and holding him firm.

"I just hope you know what you're asking for, baby." Matt almost warns, his hips pressing up against Nick's. "Because the question is, when are you gonna cum? If I'm so busy fucking you into the mattress and wearing you out, when am I gonna find the time to make sure my boyfriends poor cock gets the attention it deserves, hm?"

The question comes with a taunting stroke, Matt curling his hand around the head before bringing his precome-covered fingers to his mouth.

"Better get to bouncing, hm?"

[yxkanna]

PRAGMATICALLY? MATT’S DONE more than enough filling, yes. It is in fact greedy of Nick to demand more of him tonight. But here he is, demanding anyways, a devilish smile adorning his face as he listens to Matt talk.

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT me,” he almost purrs, “you’ll take care of me regardless, mh?” He’s warmed up enough that he might be able to cum just by being fucked, but they can find that out later. He’s in no rush. The journey is more important than the destination or whatever.

HE IS RATHER eager to both be fucked into the mattress and get to bouncing, so he does just that - stroking Matt a few more times before guiding himself onto his cock. He lets out a rather lewd moan as he sinks fully onto his shaft, settling for a moment to readjust before starting up a rhythm, slow at first to give them both space to breathe. Lithe fingers splay across Matt’s chest, head cranked back before falling forward again to look at his face.

“I DON’T EVEN need more prep tonight, you’ve already fucked me so much,” is the observation, “you like that my hole knows you, baby? You like having your own personal cocksleeve?”

[fairytaletold]

nick is speaking, but he's already getting up. ( it's true -- the stew is rather fucked. ) after all, he needs to do something. the illness is oppressive, heavy on his senses: the heat of his skin, the rattling cough, the sheen of sweat that smells off, sickly. this is yet another human affliction that he's so rarely fallen prey to. what do you do when someone gets sick? how sick is too sick? did he need the hosp ———— no. no, no, no, it's fine, he's fine. surely not.

he's in the kitchen, now. panicking.

the thing is this: even if he has a hardy constitution, he's still aware of what his people might do. he was outcast as a child, yes, but he wasn't oblivious. knows that potatoes can cure these things, despite what nick may think of it. so he's slicing them, returning to the bedroom with a handful of the things, already tugging off nick's socks.

“this will help,” vasile assures him, but the words lack real conviction. “you keep them on — it will fix you.”

[yxkanna]

HE’S LEFT ALONE for a short time as Vasile rattles around the kitchen. His eyes feel heavy, and his head feels like it might pop at any moment. His bones feel brittle, almost, like crumbling concrete inside him; he knows they’re not, but he doesn’t want to move aside from his tremor. He can’t - so much strength has been sapped out of him already.

HE’S RIGHT WHERE Vasile left him, and he can’t fight it when his socks are ripped off. There’s a whine in the back of his throat because he knows what’s coming - whines again when stupid cold potatoes touch the soles of his feet. “I don’t want it,” is the pathetic protest, but he can’t do anything about it; another cough is throttling him anyways, hurting his chest, keeping him quiet.

THIS IS THE kind of fever that might actually harm him if it’s left unchecked. How odd, to be aware of these things, but not present enough to be able to handle it himself. Fingers twitch in what might be considered a gesture towards their bathroom. “Get me the pills,” Nick asks, like that means anything. Tylenol, Motrin, anything that might help break the fever wracking his body, but he doesn’t remember their names. Hopefully Vasile can figure that out on his own.

[miidnighters]

Well. Matt can't argue with that, or the way Nick's hand wraps around his mostly-spent cock.

"I am hot, aren't I?" He laughs, the feeling of it smoothing away some of the dregs of tiredness that had been starting to overtake him. His own hand snakes down between them to curl around Nick, stroking softly where the other is already hard.

"I love you too. You and your insatiable appetite." Matt turns his head slightly, teeth nipping at Nick's ear. "Makes me wonder what you're going to do to me. What you want me to do to you, once you've got me all worked up. This might be your last time tonight, so gotta make it count, right."

Then, it's not like Matt's mouth wouldn't still work, even if his cock tapped out.

[yxkanna]

“YOU ARE,” NICK reaffirms, teeth catching on Matt’s lower lip as he laughs. “You’re so hot and I need you so fucking bad. I need you filling me. You can do that one more time, hm?”

IT’S WHAT HE’S asked the past two times, but that’s not important.

HE’S ALREADY RATHER warmed up so a higher-pitched moan than usual escapes his throat when Matt gets a hold of his cock and strokes. The act only serves to encourage him, free hand roving his chest and his hair and his throat, pushing him to where he wants him as he wakes up his poor beleaguered cock for what he wants. Tongue laves at the pulse point below his jaw when he kisses him, moving up to his ear, catching earlobe in his teeth, breathing hard.

“I’M GONNA RIDE you,” he pants, already shifting so he can grind directly on Matt as he explains his plan, “I’m gonna bounce on your cock like the horny little bitch I am, but I’m not gonna make you cum. You’re gonna do that yourself when you get fed up with me and grab me and fuck me to sleep finally, yeah? Say yes.”

[yxkanna]

kinda sleepytired again but gonna be futzing around with some replies perhaps here and over on other blogs...... nick is doing the thing kitties do where they look like a rotisserie chicken

[miidnighters]

@yxkanna sent [ all night ] Nick makes sure Matt doesn’t sleep... again, and again, and again

Next time Matt entertains the idea of a much younger boyfriend, someone needs to slap him.

Not, of course, that hes ever expecting to be in that position again, because he's hoping that this thing with Nick lasts for a very long time.

Thats beside the point, though - the point being that it's nearing two am and they haven't slept yet and Nick isn’t showing any sign of slowing down.

Now, Matt thought he had stamina - but damn.

"Fuck, baby-" Nick has just climbed on top of him for the umpteenth time, and Matt's cock is interested but is going to need a little coaxing. "Is it a full moon or something? You reading all that smut tok I'm hearing about?"

[yxkanna]

TWO AM IS child’s play for this little fucker. He’s fucked all the way until four before - he doubts he can stretch Matt quite that far, but he’s certainly making his best attempt. Poor Matt wants to understand - but there’s nothing to understand, really, nothing to rationalize this horrific peak in Nick’s libido.

HAND SLIPS DOWN, finding his cock, stroking and getting to coaxing. Other hand is already fisted in his hair, mouth on his neck and jaw and beard scruff, kissing and biting mouthfuls between words when he speaks.

“YOU SMELL SO fucking good,” he says, “and you’re so hot,” he says, “and I love your cock,” he says, “and I love you.”

NOW SHUT UP about it.

[yxkanna]

sorry never heard of the super bowl was busy roasting turkish sausage on forks duct taped to bamboo poles

[malxfide]

THE HARSHNESS IN the other's voice hardly made any difference to Vincent, looking down at him as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. Which to him, in all fairness, it was. This was not some foreign occurrence but he was well aware that for the general public, this was exceptionally out of the ordinary.

A light laugh left his lips, keeping his foot right where it was against his arm. "Your choice of career path makes absolutely not difference to me. You could be the god damn Pope and I wouldn't give a shit." Vincent rolled his eyes and just for the hell of it, put more pressure on to his arm. It only lasted for a moment but only so he could move his foot just slightly to settle on his wrist instead.

Just enough pressure and maybe a twist of his foot and there was no doubt that he would hear the crunch of bones. But he didn't jump right to it yet.

"Nick..." The name rolled off his tongue as he thought, still watching him. "You are right though, you are the wrong guy. And I told my colleague that. He just didn't care to listen." Of course he hadn't cared to listen. The other man wouldn't be caught dead being wrong and certainly not if Vincent was the one telling him he was wrong.

And now he had to clean up the mess. But he didn't mind that too much. "Unfortunately for you though, mistaken identity or not, there are no plans for you to be leaving here still breathing." The words spilled past his lips so simply as if he was just mentioning the weather. He crouched down, his foot still planted on his wrist but know with more pressure, looking at Nick with a grin.

"So, Nick," Vincent reached to harshly pat at the other's chest, his hand settling dangerously close to his neck. "would you rather it be quick or is this going to turn into a game? I do love the thrill of a chase."

[yxkanna]

HE’S A SLENDER thing, built for grace and dexterity rather than raw strength. His wrist is thin, and Nick has accepted it will likely break before the night is through. He’s not looking forward to it - but if he can sacrifice that arm to keep his dominant one functional, it might be worth it. His jaw clenches in the meantime, eyes staying on the other man’s face.

HE IS WELL and truly fucked, isn’t he? He might be able to hold his own somewhat if he wasn’t already injured and exhausted. He’s fought bigger fuckers than this guy before and won - it’s not fair. Nothing about this is fair. Just his fucking luck he’s getting punished for the transgressions of whoever’s supposed to be in his place right now. A waste - a waste, because now two people will die instead of just one. And for what? He’d ask, if he thought he’d get any kind of real answer.

HE’S BEING TOYED with. The laugh, the grin, the hand threatening his throat. It’s already a game. Begging will get him nowhere. This feels familiar. The lack of control over his own body, the oncoming suffocation if he lays here and does nothing. He’s angry. God, he’s so fucking angry.

“I DON’T RUN,” is all he offers before throwing himself forward to sink teeth into the soft meat of his hand. Somewhere noticeable, something harder to hide, something possibly mildly incapacitating. It’d be great if he got an infection - his head shakes, trying to rip, as his free arm claws up at his face like a cornered wildcat’s. Somewhere noticeable. DNA under the nails. Something Teddy can use, whenever he’s found.

IF THESE ARE his last breaths he’s going to make them fucking count for something.

[yxkanna]

got wizard high and then immediately got scared…………… many such cases, replies later