#Where Hokage is like 'Shhhhh...I'm trying to hear the nudity' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saltpepperbeard · 3 years

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Ravenous ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Well hello hello again lol! A bit weird, huh? I don’t know why exactly I had a sudden surge of motivation, but quite honestly, I’m not mad at it. While the shot I wrote a few days back was a more original idea of sorts, this one was an “anonymous” suggestion. A rather EYEBROW RAISING SUGGESTION™ if you know what I’m saying ha! But for whatever reason, dialogue and ideas started flowing, and here we are! Just couldn’t help but explore Katniss desiring to Spice Things Up a bit. With that being said shjdkhskdls-

Disclaimer: This fic contains NC-17 related material, but y’all been knew. Y’ALL KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GETTING INTO LMAO.

And without further adoooooo...

Ravenous

It’s happening again. Our bedroom seems to rival that of the setting sun, the two dancing and paralleling. Just as the clouds and sky melt into orange, I too, find myself at its mercy. Just as the sun plunges beneath the horizon, so too, do our pelvises atop each other’s. Just as it sets fire to the grasses and trees as it plummets from sight, so too, do our roaming mouths and hands against each other’s bodies.

And just as the sunset is habitual, expected, so is the explosion within. It’s like clockwork. It’s like the mighty star’s journey across the sky. A soft, inviting, and consistent brightness is maintained throughout the day, before utterly exploding into color and passion as ebony surges forth.

The newness and its subsequent excitement must be why it’s so incredibly enticing, so normal in our schedule. To think, I used to be one with the dawn. The coldness, the solitude, and the call for survival...all were my essence. Now though, do I dance and take pleasure in the dusk, flooding with fiery color before all runs dark.

Not that I’m complaining in the slightest. No, I’m a medley of breathy giggles, mewled moans, and messy kisses. The usual, the expected, and the blissful.

So a subsequent shift in the cycle, in the ecstatic repetition, does indeed throw me when it presents.

Losing myself in Peeta each and every night allows my hunger to break free, spilling forth after being locked up for so long. It gnaws, it feasts, and it satisfies, before settling back to a hush, properly quenched. His initial touches, caresses, and kisses do marvels at igniting the starting flames. His following motions and salacious actions work wonders at surging the fire to a roar. And then his sweetness dampens the blaze into finality, into exhausted ashes.

But tonight...Tonight, it’s different. It feels...wrongfully intense.

I am not hungry- I am ravenous. It roars within me as if it’s never been satiated at all. It howls, screams, gnashing for a deeper satisfaction. The area between my legs aches almost painfully so, and the heat surging through my core snarls that it won’t be bested so easily.

Such a sensation almost feels instinctual, animalistic even. And with that notion crossing my mind, an odd picture presents itself within my subconscious. A symbolic representation? Or is it a solution, a suggestion that the deeper confines of my hankering body has pulled up? Either way, it’s bizarre, and subsequently earns a deep blush to my cheeks.

The image of a stag mounting a doe.

It’s something I’ve seen on rare occasion while hunting, a deeply intimate and almost sacred moment birthed from nature’s way. But translating such an intrusive image into our bedroom, into the current situation, and connecting the dots between the symbolism and the craving...

...Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flush impossibly more so.

What an oddity. Peeta more than satisfies me. He gives me something no one else could possibly come close to offering. He takes me to realms unthinkable, and charts depths once-unexplored. And yet, does my body yearn.

What a foreign desire. I never could have pictured myself in such a position- or...intensely aching for one, rather. With carnal intimacy being so new to me, to the both of us, I never expected my body to erect anything of the sort. But I suppose, the deeper and deeper we traverse in one another, the more and more we’ll unlock. I guess there are still things to be discovered about each other, and complex layers of intimacy waiting to be unlocked...

“...Katniss?”

As if my cheeks couldn’t grow any more fiery.

I must have been quite disconnected, lost in thought and libidinous imagination. My grey eyes rapidly blink to break from the haze, but the desire still careens within. Venturing out from the fog reveals Peeta once more though, his beautiful, bare, handsome form hovering atop me. He too, is flushed, small beads of sweat glistening atop his scarred skin to compliment the fiery sheen within his darkened eyes.

But where there would be normally be a crooked smile, or an agape expression of pleasure, there instead exists confusion, concern.

When our eyes finally meet with clarity, he reaches to softly cup my cheek.

“Hey...” he murmurs, his voice still husky, breathy, “You alright?”

I cannot help but swallow hard. How the hell am I supposed to vocalize such a thing? Is it too taboo to ask for? The idea of...Peeta...taking me from behind?

I’m a mess, shutting my eyes and turning my face into his hand, as if to hide myself away.

“Hey...” His voice sounds more concerned, and a bit warmer. Some of the huskiness has disappeared too. And subsequently, a spark of desperation alights within me; perhaps because the hunger screeches at me to maintain heat.

“Sweetheart-”

Softening sentiments are cut off by a carnal kiss, my body piloting me to fight the dip. I lace my hands around the back of his head and pull his stunned form closer, breathily moaning through the connection. When I feel his lips begin to part though, when I practically taste the confused question forming on his tongue...

I know I have no choice. I know it’s now or never. And if I could stare the hunger dead on, if I could address its call and dive into vulnerabilities with Peeta before...

Surely I can do this too. Hopefully.

“Peeta?” I quickly interject.

I expect him to remain close, but just as ferocious desire pilots me, so too does compassionate concern steer him. He leans as far back as he can with my hands laced through his hair, staring with those inquisitive, stunning blues.

“...Katniss?”

“I...I...”

Just as the first time we delighted in one another, my throat threatens to lock up from anxiety, from fear of the unknown. Just as before, I find it horribly difficult to vocalize my wants. But in knowing that soft and concerned stare, in understanding the eyes that expectantly wait, and in feeling far fierier than previous times, I find the strength I need to produce a voice.

“...Can we...try something different?”

Nerves drive me to bite my swollen lip, as if Peeta’s going to react poorly or something equivalent. But as truly expected, he blinks the concern away before the tension visibly melts above me.

“Oh! Yeah, uh...sure,” he murmurs, beginning to smile despite lingering bits of confusion still present in his brows, “Is that why you...?”

“Yes...”

“Oh,” he breathes, chuckling softly before leaning back in for another kiss. He nestles close once more, our bare forms pressing and creating small hints of tantalizing friction. Be it the throbbing within, or the very present feeling of his erection between us, I break the kiss with quickened pants.

Unbothered now, and in a better understanding towards my desperation, he moves to kiss and bite at my neck. My hips and eyes both roll, the intense lust leaving me less bothered by the various noises sounding from my throat.

Peeta too, must be quickly getting tugged back; I feel him twitch before he softly grunts into the tender skin of my collar.

“What would you like?” he huskily whispers, topping off the question by tracing my bone with his tongue.

Between nerves and the sensations he’s dizzying me with, I briskly shake my head.

“Don’t make me say it...” I wheeze.

I feel his mouth turn upwards against my skin, and he chuckles before drawing forth artistry, painting his way up my neck and cheeks with brushing lips.

“Alright...” he says thickly, and I think I can feel him quivering slightly, “Show me then?”

I tense, but catching his stare grounds me. Beyond the drippings of ebony lust and fiery coals, I can see that beautiful understanding, that adoration with zero judgement. It’s what drove me to explore initially, and thus, does it fuel me once more.

My hands come to rest upon his muscular chest, quivering ever so slightly as I give a gesturing push. He follows my direction without hesitation, moving until we’re both sitting up on the bed. Another bout of hesitance grips me, but upon seeing the sight of him, heavily engorged and nearly flush against his stomach, I break through once again.

My stare manages to break to a necessity then, gazing upon his amputated leg with another bite of my lip.

“Your prosthetic...”

I can see his breath catch, watching his chest heave as I momentarily avoid his stare.

“...I need it?” he whispers.

I can only nod, and he thankfully doesn’t press, scurrying off to retrieve and reattach it. I’m piloted once more; my body seizes the opportunity to get into position while he’s not looking. Though my heart pounds something terrible, though trembles alight in my limbs, I roll onto my hands and knees, poised and ready for what I crave.

Peeta’s to my backside now, so I cannot see his reaction to what I’m offering. I can certainly hear it though, as well as almost feel it, the room seemingly spiking in temperature the moment he notices.

“O-oh...”

I tremble in both deep anticipation and tension, still unable to look at him. There’s a bit of pause though, and right when I think I’ve made a mistake, I feel the bed shift with the re-introduction of his weight. My thighs clench something terrible at his presence behind me, and I feel my entire lower half quivering.

Made even worse when Peeta groans my name.

“Katniss...”

The amount of lust is incredible. I could almost rocket myself backwards upon him. It’s wild, and hard to imagine how I wound up in such a position. But through the salaciousness, through the smoke clouding my brain, nerves still manage to peek.

“Is...this okay?” I shakily whisper.

“Yeah...” he breathes, and I nearly run woozy at the sensation of his hands ghosting my curves, “Is this...?”

I almost move beyond my own control, thrusting my hips backward and placing myself into his grasp. It’s his turn to tremble, and he groans yet again.

“God...Katniss...”

I’m his craft once more. His hands grasp me, knead me, squeezing my voluptuous backside as he would when he prepares dough. And just as the touch readies dough for heat, it too, sets me utterly ablaze.

Unbridled moans and mewls sound from my throat at his massage, my legs spreading wider and my back arching further. There’s barely a connection between anxiety and my ravenous core anymore, hunger almost entirely at the helm.

“God...” Peeta moans again, and such a noise pushes me into raw desperation.

“Peeta...” I whimper in a tone so unlike my own, “Peeta...”

We’re on the same plane. He understands immediately. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just as hungry as I am, made raw by the sight before him.

So he quickly rectifies the situation. I feel the bed shift, before he brings a shaky hand to grasp one of my hips. I’m barely breathing, barely able to process with such deep anticipation. His following words almost don’t reach me, what with the beautifully torturous feeling of his head just barely brushing betwixt my folds.

“Okay...I love you, Katniss...”

I somehow wheeze, somehow manage, those words landing when nothing else can.

“I love you too- AH!”

I’m no stranger to the feeling of Peeta sheathing himself deep within me, to holding him snuggly and tightly in a space reserved just for him. We’ve danced in it and dazzled in each other so much lately that it’s, in fact, almost become something of a second nature.

So it’s definitely strange that just a mere change can have electrifying, incredible effects.

The cry from his entrance was utterly unavoidable; he feels deeper and heavier than ever before. I’m stunned at how different it feels, at the intensity behind it. He’s within familiar grounds, and yet it feels entirely new.

I’m dazed, but my hunger is utterly elated. It sings at the feeling, rejoices, driving me to slide myself backwards against him, swallowing him impossibly deeper.

His groan intersects beautifully with mine, the both of us likely relishing in the sensations. When I dare to ease my hips forward again, I feel Peeta’s other hand reach to grasp. With his hold complete, he pulls me back as he thrusts deeply.

And I already find that I’m quickly losing control, everything working to utterly unravel me.

The strokes, so deep and reaching, quickly earn a stream of incoherence from my hanging mouth. I moan and whimper and grunt a plenty, weaving a tapestry of pleasured nothings.

“Mmm...Oh, God...Peeta...”

There’s also something about this that strangely seems to amplify, something that makes it the most different from our previous sessions: I cannot see him. I cannot see the beautiful, wrenched effort on his visage, nor can I steal the moans from his lips. I cannot latch myself to his tender neck, nor can I run my fingers through his ashy locks.

It’s just the sensation of him within me. Nothing more but his powerful drives and our precious connection.

No wonder it’s so raw, so animalistic indeed.

But perhaps, not mutual.

Where I would expect Peeta to take off, to drive with reckless abandon, he instead remains...oddly consistent with his glides. They’re heavenly, and reaching, but unamplified. In fact, instead of speeding up as expected, he seemingly slows within me.

Such a turn, a difference in the usual chain of events, is enough to whip my head around. It’s my turn to furrow with confusion and concern, squinting through the intense mindfog to finally lay eyes upon him.

Which ends up being a blessing and a curse; the sight of him in such a position is almost enough to send me reeling further. Seeing him kneeling, grasping my hips, panting with reddened cheeks, and disappearing deep within...

A shiver runs up the length of my spine, exiting through my mouth as my voice just barely manages to quiver his name.

“...P-Peeta?”

“I...Um...”

It’s like we’ve switched places, what with him being apprehensive and me existing in a realm of thirst and confusion. Just as before, a cock of the brow and a building question is what spurs the opposite party into explanation.

“I’m...It’s going to sound...cheesy, okay? But I uh...It’s...Different I guess, not being able to...look at your face. Or kiss you. Or...”

He shifts himself a bit as he reaches for my face with a hand, effectively sending himself inward at a deep, torturous angle. It drives me strangely mad, my eyes rolling and my throat resonating with a squeak. It feels so foreign, to be reduced to this. And in my state, in my heightened desperation, I find myself blurting without much control.

“-Keep going.”

He freezes then, inside and out, looking upon me with widened blues. Such an expression mildly grounds me, offering a pang of guilt and a subsequent apology to follow.

“Sorry...” I wheeze, “I...I didn’t mean...If...you’re not...”

I’m a mess with my attempts to breathily stammer. But just as further guilt begins to bud, just as I fear I’ve forced him into an uncomfortable place, he gives such an unexpected and strong jerk of his hips that I yelp into the tense space.

When the shock leaves my system, when the static clears my brain, I’m able to see him beginning to smile once more, a bit more lecherous than before.

“Hmm...You know, different...might not be so bad then...”

“But-”

Again, he tortuously cuts me off, giving another strong jerk and sending me careening.

“Peeta!” I exclaim, looking at him with widened eyes, trembling legs, and a stunned soul.

“Because...” he grunts, softly squeezing and kneading my hips, “You like this, don’t you?”

He shifts then, focusing on slowly feeding himself into my depths, effectively earning a low grunt from his throat. A noise that’s quickly overpowered by my own, an open-mouthed moan as I squirm against the mattress, against his lovely torment.

“Peeta...”

“Yeah? You like it? Hmm, love?”

My eyes flash at his darkened vocals, followed by a bite of my lip to hush the rolling whimper. Something is most definitely in the air tonight. The sun surely exploded in its descent. We’ve never really been so...raw with each other, so driven and demanding.

But it seems neither of us have any qualms. Even my worry towards pressuring Peeta into an unfavorable session seems to back away, what with his ebony murmurs and expressions so evident. We seem to be re-aligning, re-joining each other on the same plane of passion.

Thus, do I desperately nod, at his complete disposal. I slide myself backwards then, easing until I’m practically touching his pelvis, panting and gritting at the extent of penetration.

“I’ve forever to kiss you..." he whispers.

Please...Please please.

I’m hardly with it enough to question the strangeness behind the newfound begging, simply squirming and existing entirely within the desperate space.

“...But not long enough to pleasure you so...”

Thus, miraculously, do any last bits of wall come tumbling down.

And I’m no longer in our bedroom. I’m within droves of ardent fire. I’m traversing the very surface of our sun. I’m in a place so foreign, a state so delightfully insane, where none have ever brought me before.

All from the sudden, strong, and intense reaches of him deep within.

Oh, how I fall apart. How I deliciously unravel. Being so pent up, so oddly starving, the hunger gorges and instantly sets me alight. Just as it screamed before, I too, find myself vocalizing with such strength.

It’s a medley, an absolutely chaotic medley of passion. Beyond my cries and his grunts, I can hear his pelvis slapping against my back side again and again. Beyond the flashes and shivers in my vision, I can see our bed hammering from the force he’s inflicting. Beyond the heat and pounding stream of blood, I can feel him hitting places so new and intense.

And it’s everything. I love him. I adore him. And I cherish the connection we have, the way we can send each other directly into the heavens. I never could have imagined. Even mere months ago, I never could have imagined.

“Gggh...Katniss!”

His deep grunt coupled with the groan of my name is enough to break me from my overwhelmed thoughts; the dig of his fingers into my hips is enough to ground me completely. I cannot escape the ungodly pleasure now. I am present, and at its full mercy.

And when a thrust hits just so, when a piece of my glass cracks and threatens to shatter, it’s no wonder that my arms fall instantly gelatinous. I cry and toss my head back, sending a rolling ebony wave before my front half descends. I desperately grip the blankets, knotting the fabric with begging grunts and whines.

But it only continues to build, and build, and build, impossibly faster and impossibly deeper. Our souls are tangled, so very tangled, dancing and intertwining and refusing to let go. Naturally, I start to ascend, faster than I ever have before. The fire licks its way up my belly, caressing my jiggling breasts and-

...No, that’s his hand, reaching beneath to knead and massage, emboldened and salacious. My eyes roll something terrible, my hips even more so, more and more of the glass chipping away. He’s snarling, almost yelling; I know he’s so close too. But somehow, just as he always has, Peeta dashes through the chaos and holds me above all.

His wandering hand suddenly juts backwards, racing down my body before fingers find their prized destination. There’s a subsequent bolt of electricity at my core, followed by a heave of tension as cracks spiderweb throughout. I’m on the cliff, on the edge, writhing and seeing it shatter before me...

“Peet-”

The final note of his name shifts into that of a divine keen, elongated and reaching as my wings outstretch. I feel like I’ve never flown so high before. It feels as if though I breach the very reaches of our atmosphere, everything whited out and flashing with a dazzling array of color.

Surely I’m screaming. Surely I’m crying out with such forceful contractions wracking my system. But I can barely breathe, barely process. There’s nothing but this. Nothing but him.

Him- somewhere below, I can hear his desperate groans. He too, yelps like he’s attempting to hold on to the Earth, to stop such a rapid ascent into space. But with a distant, cracking yell, and with another push that drives me even higher, I welcome him into my flying embrace.

I hold onto him so tightly. I fly and dance and marvel in the closeness, in the connection we share. I soar hand in hand, his softness rivaling that of the cloud we pass. Before eventually, inevitability, we must return to a realm more frequented.

I land hard. My form essentially evaporates upon impact. The moment Peeta breaks our connection, the moment he releases my hips, I fall into a heap atop the blankets. It’s no surprise that I’m shivering, nor that I’m weeping, overwhelmed to the warmest, highest degree. I remain on my stomach, limbs sprawled every which way, continuing to pant and ride through the occasional aftershocks.

When the sound of my pounding heart departs from my ears, when I become more aware of my surroundings, I can hear Peeta on the bed behind me, heavily panting all the while. Surely he’s sitting back, likely riding the same lingering effects as I.

But I need him. After almost selfishly delighting in such pleasures, I miss him. So I turn my head against the blankets, attempting to look in his direction as I reach with a hand.

“P-Peeta?”

Unsurprisingly, he understands. In mere seconds, he heaves himself beside me, flopping down atop the mattress. Though I’m utterly exhausted, and akin to jelly, I hoist myself onto my side and into his arms, our bodies as close as possible without the added element of fire.

And there, I snuggle, I caress, I kiss. I make up for the missed touches. He of course, reciprocates, the both of us tiredly offering all the affection we can muster between our shaking breaths. Soon enough, falling back into our usual patterns, we begin to smile. Then breathlessly giggle. Then speak and whisper sweet nothings through our exhausted exchanges.

“Oh...my God...Oh God...” I wheeze into one of our many kisses.

Peeta snickers a bit then, his hands beginning to softly rub circles against my bare back.

“I don’t...I don’t know what happened...what came over me...” I whisper, shying away to nestle my cheek against his.

He laughs more then, somehow managing to tug me even closer.

“Hooo, well...Whatever it was...I’m glad...I’m glad it did...”

I feel myself blushing, somewhat...shocked by the intensity of my actions. And in considering my behavior, in considering how ferocious the hunger was, it unsurprisingly reminds me of the likely sacrifice Peeta had to make in order to appease. I flush even harder, moving to hide my face against his perspiring shoulder.

“I’m sorry...” I murmur against his sweet skin.

“Hun?”

“I didn’t mean to- I mean, I didn’t...”

I of course, struggle through my words, through my explanation. I’ve never been good at saying something. But my love patiently waits, expectantly waits, continuing to softly rub me through the silence. As usual, his understanding anchors me, and I whimper the truth rather sheepishly.

“It just felt so good, Peeta...”

To my relief, he gives a hard, handsome laugh, rattling our tangled forms.

“That’s all I could ever hope for, sweetheart...” he replies with lingering chuckles, pressing his gentle lips to my dampened hair.

I sigh at the tender contact, but continue to push myself.

“Really though...I’m sorry...I didn’t...want to make you uncomfortable...”

“You didn’t.”

When I huff against his shoulder, he softly tugs me backwards, allowing our stares to connect once more.

“You didn’t, love. Clearly.” He chuckles a bit more, before falling back into his earnest tone. “Like I said, it was just...different, that’s all. I marvel in your beauty, you know.”

When I scowl at him, at the compliment, he grins even wider.

“And yes, I’m used to seeing your face in this. But thankfully, every inch of you happens to be stunning.”

“Peeta...” I groan, feeling my cheeks flush something terrible beneath his onslaught of tender eloquence. Once more, he laughs, before leaning in to give me a quick kiss.

“I just got to address the less...frequented places,” he continues with a smirk, “Which after tonight, won’t stay that way for long, I’m sure.”

I huff, which again, earns another snicker coupled with a kiss. When we break away however, I find myself staring into those sparkling, warm blues. His expression shifts into something more gentle, more awed, surely catching the earnestness behind my stare. My hands reach up to cup his face, stroking my thumbs against his scarred yet softened skin.

“I did miss this, you know...” I whisper, topping my words off with a kiss to his nose.

“Well, I did say we have forever,” he replies with a growing, crooked grin.

“That’s not long enough for this either...”

I pull him into perhaps the softest, tenderest kiss of the night, one more fitting for the day than the dusk. It’s one I pour all my adoration into, of course having to verbally proclaim it all the same.

“I love you so much...” I murmur against his lips.

Once more, the connection breaks from the strength of his smile, delightfully warming body and soul before the sentiments are returned.

“And I love you...”

There we remain for numerous comfortable beats, continuing to lazily kiss and caress until the last of the sunlight disappears from the night sky. I find myself contemplating what lead to such an explosion, what lead to my desire firing off to such an extreme degree. Of course Peeta would be on the same wavelength, though the grinning question that breaks the silence gets me laughing and shoving his chest.

“You don’t...happen to have further tricks up your sleeve, do you?”

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