#mxm oneshot

[sku11s1asher]

idk if you do poly relationships but can you do a wrio and neuvi cuddle/movie night?

neuvillette & wriothesley x nb/male reader

notes: gulp… pretend i didn’t neglect yall for months! i had a rough patch mentally, but im now starting to get into writing again so yay!! ill post an apology for you guys, make up sex or whatever you guys want idk im on my knees begging for forgiveness 😓 ily (say it back)

cw: ooc wrio + neuv (or are they just in love?)

Neuvillette and Wriothesley, two of the hardest workers in Fontaine, at least in your opinion. Every time they came home, they were beyond tired, barely undressing themselves before joining you in bed at 1 in the morning, just to wake up in a couple of hours. The cycle was as tiring for you as it was for them, you rarely got to see your lovers, and when you did all you saw was them on the verge of passing out.

It wasn’t like they didn’t try to make it up to you though. When they got an off day, which was rare, they would always show you how much they loved you in different ways: sex, cooking, cuddling, dates, etc. Today was surprisingly one of those off days, you expected to wake up by yourself with just the leftover warmth from them next to you but instead, you woke up with a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You let out a yawn as you opened your eyes, you could see a mop of black hair lying on your chest.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you tried to sit up, only to get pulled back down. “Don't move.” a deep voice mumbled. “Wrio?” you asked in a sleepy voice, one of your hands going to rest in his hair. You looked toward the window, you noticed Neuvillete staring outside, drinking a cup of tea. You felt more confused than ever, why were both of them home? It's not like you were complaining about it, you were glad, just confused. It wasn't your birthday, nor either of theirs, and it most definitely wasn't your anniversary.

“What are you guys doing at home?” you asked Neuvillete while your hand subconsciously started petting Wriothesley's hair. “Have you already forgotten? I marked it in the calendar.” Neuvillette responded in an amused tone, slightly turning to look at you. He loved the way you looked when you first woke up, eyes all droopy, hair messy, that cute confused look on your face, how your voice dropped a bit, just everything about you. “I would never forget anything you said.” you lied while flopping back on the bed, and going back to sleep.

—

When you finally woke up, it was noon, there was still someone right next to you. A groan came from you as you pushed them away, you could tell it was Wriothesley by the way his deep voice said some complaint. “It’s 12 in the afternoon, I’m getting up.” You told him as you tried to get up, only to feel a hand grab your arm. “Five more minutes, please?” He begged, gently pulling you back. But before you could respond or he could open his mouth to try to persuade you anymore, the door to the bedroom opened, prompting the both of you to look towards it.

“Both of you need to get up,” Neuvillette spoke, “shower then come to the living room. The movies are ready, I'll start the popcorn when you both decide to join me.” Once he walked out, Wriothesley sat up in bed, prompting you to fall off him. You looked up at him as he rubbed his eyes, he looked so cute, almost like an actual puppy. You decided to get off the bed, stretching as you stood up, letting out a small groan. You walked to the dressers, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and clean boxers before heading to the bathroom. Halfway through your shower, the door opened and the sink turned on, you didn't have to look to know it was Wriothesley.

When you finally got out of the bathroom, you could hear popcorn popping which made you quickly go to the living room. It looked like Wriothesley made Neuvillette his new cuddle victim, the black-haired male had his head on Neuvillette's lap while his hands were lightly touching the other male's leg. “Hello, dear,” Neuvillette greeted you, turning his head towards you with a soft smile, “I’ll go get the popcorn then we can start the movies. Take a seat.” You made your way over to the couch, letting out a soft chuckle when you saw Neuvillette gently take Wriothesley off his leg. Wriothesley scooted over on the couch, pulling you into the spot next to him.

—

A bowl of popcorn was on the table in front of you, Wriothesley was lying across both your and Neuvillettes laps, while your head was leaning on Neuvillette’s shoulder. The movie that was playing was a random comedy that you weren't really focusing on. Instead, you were focusing on how Wriothesley was playing with your hand: lacing and unlacing it, squeezing it, making shapes on it, laying it on his stomach, all types of things. You slightly moved your head, getting a small glance at Neuvillette, seeing how he was engrossed in the movie. He looked so handsome from this angle, like a true angel. His hair was up in a ponytail, he had a relaxed look on his face which came with a slight smile, no makeup on, just looking amazing.

Neuvillette looked at you, gently moving your head to kiss you, “You stare a lot.” he teased before letting you go back to your previous position and turning his attention back to the movie. He always knew when to catch you off guard, he loved seeing the slight blush on your face and how your body got slightly warmer. A small chuckle came from Wriothesley, “This movie is pretty hilarious.” he stated, which made Neuvillette hum in agreement. “You laugh at the corniest shit, Wrio.” you teased, pinching his stomach. “Yeah, I always laugh at your corny jokes.” he countered which made you pout. “Rude,” you mumbled before finally turning your attention back to the movie.

You were on the fifth movie, the popcorn long gone but neither of you felt like moving to get more. You felt yourself start to get tired, slightly moving yourself to get comfortable before letting out a soft sigh. You felt content, your boyfriends had you practically trapped in between them, their scents surrounding you, and both of their bodies were warm, it was true heaven. You felt your eyes slowly start to close, you didn't feel like focusing on the movie anymore, or anything for that matter. Wriothesley was quiet, not making any comments or a chuckle anymore, which meant he was most likely knocked out. Right before you fell asleep, you felt Neuvillette’s head slightly drop on yours and heard his breathing even out. Looks like all of you are going to sleep on the couch tonight.

[iamnotthenewwriter]

Finally

Warnings! ⚠️ Smut-Trans Regulus Black

One Shot

Regulus had never let James see him completely naked before, they had of course tiptoed into sexual territory but nothing more than grinding against each other fully clothed and also Regulus did love giving his boyfriend blowjobs but he knew it wasn’t enough for James even though he would never admit it of push Regulus in any way.

“James…” he spoke quietly as he looked up at the ceiling.

They were laying down on James’ bed, wearing comfy clothes on a cozy weekend.

“What, love?” James asked with the usual smile on his face as he turned his head to look at his boyfriend.

“I want to have sex with you.” Regulus admitted straight up, as if it was the most normal thing for him to say.

Not that James was against the idea but he didn’t expect the other to let him know like that and so suddenly.

“Reg…” James pulled himself up on his elbows to look down at his boyfriend, his voice soft.

“You know that we don’t have-“ he started speaking but Regulus interrupted him, pressing his lips against the other’s.

“Shut up.” He muttered in between tender kissed. “I want this.” He added before James wrapped his arms around him and he couldn’t reply anymore when Regulus deepened the kiss.

“I love you.” James said once the other pulled away to catch his breath, Regulus definitely looked nervous but determined.

“I love you too.” Regulus replied and James kissed him again, he pushed the male down onto the soft mattress and placed himself in between his legs.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” James mumbled, before kissing down Regulus neck surely leaving marks.

James tugged onto the elastic of Regulus’ sweatpants before pulling them off completely, he lifted the male’s shirt to expose just up to his stomach as he kissed the pale skin.

“Are you sure about this?” James asked as he kissed down the male’s body and found himself at the elastic of Regulus’ underwear.

Regulus nodded at his boyfriend, there was some hesitation in his eyes but a spark of lust that James couldn’t ignore as well.

James hooked his fingers underneath the elastic of Regulus’ underwear and pulled it off, he let out a low growl and his gaze fell down in between his boyfriend’s legs.

“Merlin…” James muttered underneath his breath, Regulus looked down and blushed as he tried not to instinctively close his legs.

“You’re so wet.” Regulus whined quietly as he closed his eyes. “James, don’t say that.” He was so embarrassed.

“But you are…and you’re so hard…” he added as his fingertip brushed against his boyfriend’s hard clit, which make Regulus shiver.

“James…” he almost begged, he was going to be so embarrassed about being this needy.

James could feel how needy his boyfriend was and he didn’t waste any time in diving in between the male’s legs, his tongue slowly rubbed along the male’s slit.

James moaned as he tasted Regulus, he couldn’t believe someone could taste that good.

Slowly he wrapped his lips around Regulus’ hard clit, gently sucking him off.

Regulus was a moaning mess, his mind fuzzy at how good the other was making him feel.

The younger male’s finger moved to the back of James’ head, pulling his closer against his cunt.

“Fuck!” Regulus moaned loudly, not even caring if someone was to hear them.

James kept sucking off his boyfriend as if he was starving, the male tasted too good and he wasn’t ready to stop but Regulus felt his body tense soon as he gripped tightly onto the sheets underneath them.

Regulus didn’t take long to come, he did so with a loud moan as he pulled James closer.

James slowly pushed his tongue inside Regulus’ hole as the other rode off his orgasm before slowly pulling away.

Regulus’ muscles slowly relaxed as James pulled himself up and laid down next to his boyfriend, pulling Regulus into a warm embrace before they would both end up falling asleep.

[channiepoolsz]

heya fellas heres another oneshot/drabble of scogan angst again heh… cos i said on my twt ,,, “what if scogan and the arthur oh arthur” audio!!!!! so i did it.

sorry, its quite rushed since it nearly 5am, but i hope hall enjoy!!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62501251

[18caramel]

Before I leave (Ponyboy Curtis x Curly Shepard)

Curly Shepard, a known prostitute around Tulsa. And Ponyboy Curtis, the one who fell for him.

tags: aged-up characters, angst, romance, family issues warnings: smut, prostitution, drug use and pejorative speech word count: 3.7k ao3 link: here A/N: my song suggestion would be anything heartbreaking or tragic by LDR ofc

pics from pinterest

When Sandra Shepard, mother of three children, went missing on a random Sunday evening, Shepards went silent. Darrel Curtis, naturally preoccupied with everyone, just like his younger brother Sodapop, tried talking it out with Tim, forcing him to go to the police. 

Three years later, they still didn’t know what happened to her. She was an alcoholic and used to disappear from time to time, so the cops didn’t give it much thought, leaving Tim, Curly, and Angela on their own. They had to survive. Do something to make ends meet. And it wasn’t easy to contribute to the family. Especially for Curly Shepard.

It was another summer without Johnny and Dallas by Ponyboy’s side. A few years flew by, and he found new friends, got accepted to college, and impatiently waited for the next chapter in his life. Nothing was holding him back. Or at least he thought so. 

He didn’t remember when he first started seeing Curly downtown, erratically walking with a girl under his arm, but mainly with guys Ponyboy had never seen before. These men sometimes looked to be the same age as Curly, but often they were quite older. He had never seen Curly leave off alone. As Darry used to tell him - whatever that hoodlum had become, it was none of his business. Shepards were trouble. As soon as Angela hit the majority, she got married off to some idiot, and Tim was planning on doing some paperwork to discuss the heritage but was quickly troubled by his mother’s missing status. He could barely afford to live in that house.

Pony didn’t know how to approach his old friend at first. Curly dropped out of school a while ago, even if he had only a year left. And now Pony saw him every day standing by the liquor store, smoking a cigarette, his eyes constantly drifting from left to right, waiting for someone, maybe even anyone. Pony didn’t understand at first what was happening to him. He wanted to come up to Curly and have some kind of small talk, but his legs wouldn’t walk, and his tongue stood still. He never felt anything like that. Never.

Curly didn’t lose his charm over the years. Yes, he seemed a little worn out, but his clothes were always tight and neat, showing off his slim, perfect figure. His curly hair was usually slightly greased, and his teeth were nicely polished. Pony saw them shine from a mile away whenever a stranger passed by, and it always seemed to Pony that Curly was trying hard to impress all of the mystery men. And all of it wasn’t for Ponyboy Curtis.

Curly’s eyes blazed with desire and wildness each time he’d notice Curtis stare at him bluntly, secretly biting his tongue, not daring to come and say hello. He noticed him right away - Shepard learned to read through people too, and Ponyboy surely wasn’t there just to greet him and talk about the good old times. No, Curtis wanted more than that. Curly watched him come out of the library at about six, his school bag hanging from his shoulder, his hair all ruffled, and his shirt halfway unbuttoned. He was growing to be a gorgeous young man, soon going off to college. And Curly would remain standing there, in the corner of the street, waiting for his regulars to show up.

There was something about Curly Shepard that Pony tried hard to figure out but couldn’t.

At first, Pony thought Curly was dealing. Because who didn’t? And then why would he wait for all of these random people? There was no other possible answer for Ponyboy Curtis.

That was until Two-Bit came by on a Saturday evening and started debriefing a few rumors going around the town. Steve Randle sat in the recliner, clearly a bit drunk, and was giving his honest opinion about Angela’s marriage which none of them was invited to.

“She married that dork last week,” Steve finally laid off his beer, keeping his eyes closed for a second, “Shepard didn’t even call Darry. Hell, he probably wasn’t even there.” 

“Yeah,” Two-Bit carried on, pinching the hole in his sock, as if he could magically fix it with his touch, “I saw Curly downtown the day Angela was tying the knot. It surely didn’t occur to him at all.” 

“Curly Shepard,” Steve stretched out his arms, almost spilling his beer, “That manwhore…” 

Pony almost choked on his saliva when he heard it. His body began to tremble, and his cheeks grew slightly pink, and then he knew, he knew it must’ve been true. But he still couldn’t stop waiting until the next day he’d come to the library and see him in the corner of the street. And he couldn’t stop gazing at him. He learned all of the unfamiliar faces, their walk, their gestures. He couldn’t believe it to be true, no, Curly couldn’t have been doing it. Only women did. Not Curly Shepard. 

But then it did seem that way. He surely must’ve smelled good, as Ponyboy often imagined it, and wore the freshest clothes. He never had anything else with him, not even a bag, only his jacket in the evenings, where he shoved his masculine hands, protecting them from the cold breeze. Pony was the last one to get out of the library every single time he went there. He got used to seeing the same old lady surveilling the books, and they even ended up forming some kind of friendship. The lady told him about an available summer job, and Pony started seriously considering it. Yes, Pony went to the library even during summer, but less than in spring. At first, it wasn’t for Curly but for school, then for his obsession with English and American literature, but quickly Shepard did become his main intention. He came during the weekdays, but then mostly on Friday and Saturday evenings too. 

It was becoming a mania. Pony ran his hands through his hair, adjusted his collar, put on some cologne, and was convinced that Curly was going to come and finally talk to him. They saw each other every single fucking time, but no one made the first step. And that’s what made it so obvious and irremediable - Curly Shepard and Ponyboy Curtis desired to get closer with each other. 

Pony wasn’t capable of stopping going to that damned library, on the contrary by the beginning of August he went there almost every day. But then, suddenly, Curly wasn’t in the corner of the street anymore. Pony panicked that day, and went to sit by the window, peeking through the glass, as if was tracking him down. He didn’t come. The next day he wasn’t there either. 

It finally happened at the end of August. Something clicked in Pony’s head, something terrible and tormenting and Pony got frightened by one simple thought - what if Curly had left?

What if someone kidnapped him? What if he was found lifeless on the floor? What if Pony would never see him again? What if he lost his chance?

And then Steve and Two-Bit weren’t helping Pony at all. They often talked about Shepards, especially about their money problems. But he never dared to participate in their talk. So one day Ponyboy swallowed all of his pride and decided to ask Darry about them. 

“Dar, how is Tim doing?” 

“Not that good,” Darry’s lips formed a straight line, “He’s always talking about selling the house these days since he’s the only one living in it. But I don’t think he will.” 

Darry continued talking about heritage, how Tim would mostly spend all of the money in a casino the following day he’d sign the papers, and how it was probably impossible anyway, but Pony had no interest in his talk. He wanted to know where Curly lived. Was it right there next to the liquor store? And why wouldn’t he be living with Tim anymore?

When Pony sprinted to the library that same evening, he quickly realized how dear Curly was to him. Their childhood memories reappeared, and Pony could swear that he felt an aching sensation up in his gut. And then he was mad. Angry with Shepard for choosing to live like that. Angry that he saw other men. Disappointed in him. 

He intended to address him and give him a piece of his mind. That it was wrong and he shouldn’t have been giving his body away to make a living out of it. Anything, but this. 

Curly was there, wearing a white tank top, showing off his broad tanned shoulders, smoking another cigarette, making sure not to stain his clothes. There was a tad of surprise in his dimmed eyes, and he quickly adjusted his posture when he saw Ponyboy running to him. 

“Something’s wrong, Curtis?” Curly frowned his eyebrows, scanning Ponyboy from head to toe. Pony just stood there, trying to catch his breath. 

“You know,” Curly looked left and right, searching the road, “You shouldn’t be out here so late, all by yourself.”

“You’re here right?” Pony wanted to make a joke out of it but saw that it didn’t please Shepard. 

“I am.” Curly mumbled, “And I’m not.” 

Pony always wondered about those draining words he had pronounced that evening. And he thought of his lonely eyes, his stolen dim, those eyes that had seen it all. 

“You better leave, Curtis,” Curly whispered to him, making a step closer so that his friend could feel his breath on his lips. “You don’t want to be seen by my side.”

“What if I want to?” It took him a lot of courage to say it. He trembled on the inside, but he was being honest with Curly for once. He couldn’t live without it any longer. And the idea of leaving for college frightened him even more. 

“I know you do,” Curly’s voice sent shivers down Pony’s spine. It was as if he was in a trance when he followed Shepard to his apartment, his body floated, and his stomach ached as he climbed up the stairs to a sketchy door, waiting for Shepard to put the keys into the lock. 

They were in complete darkness when their bodies collided and their tongues twisted in a dance they’d been longing for the past couple of weeks. Pony was no good in any of it, he was still inexperienced and a bit shy, and Curly was the polar opposite, but it didn’t matter that night. Curly stripped down his clothes, ripping the buttons of his shirt, sending them on the floor - another memory Curly would keep for whenever he needed to feel warmth. And Ponyboy was a fool for Shepard, he brushed his hand through his curly hair, hearing a slight moan escape from his lips, and couldn’t help but think about all those times Curly would moan for other men. He suddenly felt his stomach twist and he sat on the bed, his chest filled with sorrow. 

“Pony, what’s wrong?” Curly sat beside him, gently pressing his head against his. If only they could stay like that forever. 

“You don’t have to keep doing it.” 

Curly knew exactly what he meant, so he stayed silent. There was no way to explain to Pony everything he had gone through these couple of years. Pony had two loving brothers, and all Curly had left was a broken family. He managed well to hold his tears and kiss Pony’s neck, his lips trailing down to his naked torso. Pony let go of his thoughts when Curly’s teeth met his skin, and he felt butterflies in his stomach, his cheeks were burning up too. He never felt anything like that before. 

The pleasure was unmatched. When Curly dropped to his knees, there was not a single hint of fear or disgust in his eyes. He wanted to do it. Maybe Pony wasn’t a simple client, he was more than that, or at least he believed it each time he’d go back to that sweet memory of Curly’s lips wrapped around his length, his tongue underneath, sliding up and down, making Pony’s soul leave his body. 

Curly probably did it all the time anyway, Pony imagined but quickly realized that he couldn’t continue having these kinds of thoughts. He had to relax. He wanted it. 

Curly sucked him off pretty well. There was nothing special about giving another blowjob to someone, but he did enjoy it with Ponyboy. He always liked him when they were still friends, Pony was handsome, shy, and a bit weird from time to time, but Curly could never call him lame or boring, no, he always respected him. And now being able to kiss his lips, feel him, was a real treat for Curly Shepard. Because he longed for it for all these past months. 

That’s what made it so sweet. They waited a long time before doing it, almost like a normal teenage couple, almost as if they just recently got married. But the reality was different. Curly was prostituting himself. Giving his body to all kinds of men. And he deeply despised it. 

Curly wanted to take Pony so hard, that he abruptly stopped the pleasure he was giving him, and got back near Pony’s face to kiss him. Pony was so gentle. He was still a virgin, but even if he wouldn’t be one, Ponyboy Curtis had always been a good person. He could never hurt Curly Shepard.

Pony was ready to get laid with him. When Curly helped him undress and pulled his jeans off completely, Pony understood that he was the one who was about to lose his virginity. He didn’t mind because he had never given it much thought. But no, it wasn’t true. Pony thought about sex all the time. It’s just that he has nobody to talk to it about, but he genuinely wanted Curly to fuck him. 

Shepard needed it too. Sex had become a horrid duty to him, and he wanted to finally feel like himself again. He kissed Pony’s neck and left there a hickey, a small violet spot that would remind him of their time together. 

When Ponyboy lay on the bed, getting ready to be penetrated for the first time, he saw that Curly kept a lot of pills on his nightstand. Pony was no fool, he understood quickly that Curly ended up doing drugs like most of the Greasers around town. Pony closed his eyes, imagining what it could’ve been like for Curly if he had at least some kind of support in his life. Would it be different if Tim and Angela cared for him? Of course, it would. 

Curly’s kisses slowly made Pony’s thoughts disappear. Curtis was already very relaxed down there since he had been discovering his body for a some time. That is why when Curly lubed the area and fingered him, it wasn’t painful at all. Pony moaned, living the best experience he thought he ever had in his life. 

Curly, on the other hand, had swallowed a few pills before he’d get his hands on Pony’s body just in case he couldn’t feel like himself. It was a part of his routine. When his mind was finally free, he entered Ponyboy and gave him what he wanted - his first time. Curly still remembered the first time he experienced it, but decided not to visualize the scene again, because it reminded him of the simpler times when he was still living with his siblings and used to go to school, had some money in his pocket that he’d waste on anything he wanted, and not fuck with guys just to have a roof under his head. 

Pony turned him on. Curly grabbed his waist when they switched positions and fucked him so hard, almost forgetting that Ponyboy was still new to it all. Curtis came, and when Curly saw the liquid splurge all over his bedsheets, he came too, inside Ponyboy. Curtis was in a euphoric, but also tired state for a few minutes, and when he finally opened his eyes, Curly was long gone to the bathroom, where he spent at least twenty minutes under the cold water, cleaning himself up. 

Pony got pretty nervous, blaming himself for everything they had done. Maybe they shouldn’t have. Maybe Curly didn’t enjoy sex any longer, maybe Ponyboy only reminded him once again of his job. Biting his lip, he got up from the bed and went to check on him. But Curly seemed fine. He still had a wicked smile on his face when Pony entered the bathroom. And Pony concluded that maybe Curly had enjoyed it, at least a little bit. 

Pony stayed to spend the night with him, almost forgetting that he had to leave the next day. And he felt horribly bad for seeing the reality in which Curly had lived, a small apartment, pills everywhere, dirty clothes, broken window… 

“Curly,” Pony cleared his throat, looking him in the eyes. It was dark and he could barely see his pupils, “Why aren’t you living at your house anymore?”

“This is my place now,” Curly’s lips formed a straight line, “I just wanted to be independent. Wanted to show my siblings that I didn’t have to sell or marry someone to get somewhere in life. But look at me now, I’m getting evicted next week. And Tim told me the house won’t be ours anymore.” 

Pony couldn’t even imagine Curly going homeless even for a day. Angela got married off to someone so she could have a home. And Tim, well, they didn’t know what he had become, probably rented a room somewhere or lived with a friend. Curly was all alone. Pony wanted to suggest something, at least anything, but he quickly ran out of options. Their family bond was broken. It was nothing like with Soda and Darry. They could never let him live on the street all by himself. 

Pony had a sudden urge to tell him how dear he was to him. He forgot about the awkwardness, swallowed his shyness, and began to speak, “Curly, I…” 

But Shepard saw it in his eyes right before he’d say it. His eyes gave it all away, but he didn’t believe them. He didn’t want Pony to say things he’d later regret, or say them out of pity, or worse - because Curly was his first time. And there was no such feeling of love for Curly Shepard. Everyone eventually left. And Pony would too. 

“This could never work out. You are better off without me, I promise you, Ponyboy,” Curly mumbled, his eyes closing, his body drifting off to sleep. 

Ponyboy didn’t cry. He wanted to, but the tears never came. He was so flabbergasted and inspired by what he had experienced that all he wanted to do was scream it to the world, but there was nothing to be so surprised about. He had just slept with someone who was having sex with multiple men all year long. Nothing seemed to make this time more special than the rest. 

But it was. To Pony it was everything. Curly was everything. The way he took him so gently and made love to him, even if usually it was a dreading job. 

Ponyboy was grateful. 

Curly’s future was Pony’s last thought before he drifted off to sleep. All these pills, random men… Everyone knew where it could end.

Pony tossed and turned in his sleep, not being able to let go of his intrusive thoughts about Curly leaving this world. He had another nightmare, but this time it wasn’t about his parents, it was about Curly. In his dream, he had become a junkie. His face was pale, and his perfect teeth had gaps in them, just like the skin of his arms. 

Pony glanced at Curly the second he had opened his eyes. No, he was alright. He was alive and breathing, he was young and careless, the same Curly he always knew. And he loved him for it. 

It struck him like lightning. Curly wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to stay, stay the same, stay here in this horrid place, with these worthless men, and Ponyboy would leave to build his future, leave Curly alone. 

Even if Shepard didn’t allow him to pronounce the big word starting with the letter “L”, Pony couldn’t have left without him knowing. He took a piece of paper on Curly’s desk and began writing.

When Curly woke up in the morning, he couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. He stood up, stretched his arms, and went to brush his teeth. But before he could reach the bathroom, he glanced at the desk. He grinned, taking the paper in his hands. His smile disappeared. 

"Dear Curly,

Sometimes I hate myself for not coming to talk to you sooner. I have to get back home early in the morning because I have to finish packing for college and say goodbye to my brothers. I still can’t forget the words you told me, that you’re always going to be here, but someday you won't,”

Curly took his eyes off the paper for a moment, trying to recall him saying it. 

“This is for you, Curly before I leave.” 

Curly lifted the paper and saw an envelope stuffed with paper bills. He couldn’t believe his eyes. His hands started to shake as he flicked them. The sum in his head rounded up to another month of rent. 

He smiled, cursing himself for having Pony’s money. Of course, if it was another man paying that much he wouldn’t mind. But it was Ponyboy Curtis and he was genuine. There was a paper that came with it, and Curly suddenly realized that it was Ponyboy’s salary. 

He must have been working in the library all summer long. But it wasn’t to pay himself a whore. Pony sincerely wanted to help. This was different. Pony could never leave knowing that Curly was going to be homeless in a few days. 

Curly’s eyes shifted back to the letter and then to the clock above the bed. It was too late now to catch him and give him back the money. But he needed it. He really did. 

Shepard felt a tear slip down his cheek as he read the postscript. 

"Please wait for me, 

Ponyboy Curtis."

hope you enjoyed! if you want to leave a comment on ao3 here’s the link, thank you <3

[multiverse--wanderer]

La Proposición [ESP]

[ Oneshot basado en la OTP entre John Price y Alejandro Vargas de Call of Duty ] Es un texto exclusivo de Patreon, ¡échale un vistazo a las diferentes membresías y lo que cada una te pueden ofrecer!

——— La Proposición

Alejandro se miraba en el espejo del elegante y sobrio cuarto de hotel con un nerviosismo palpable. La emoción delataba sus ojos marrones, brillando como dos estelas en medio de la penumbra solitaria. La habitación, decorada con una discreta, parecía más lujosa de lo necesario y de lo acostumbrado por el militar, con sus cortinas de terciopelo pesado y una cama cubierta con un edredón blanco inmaculado. A pesar del lujo, Alejandro apenas notaba su entorno, pues estaba concentrado únicamente en su reflejo. Sus dedos temblaban ligeramente mientras abotonaba los últimos botones de su camisa negra, una prenda que había elegido con sumo cuidado para la ocasión y estaba perfecta, sin una mísera arruga. Era de una tela suave, de calidad, que se adhería a su torso de manera impecable, resaltando su figura atlética sin ser demasiado ajustada. Cada botón parecía un pequeño desafío, pero logró abrocharlos todos con meticulosa atención. Sus ojos recorrieron su figura, asegurándose de que cada detalle estuviera perfecto, desde el pliegue de la tela hasta el brillo de sus zapatos recién lustrados.

En el interior de su pecho anidaba una sensación conocida cuando algo se trataba de Price. Era una sensación infantil, pura y dulce, que hacía bombear su corazón con la ilusión propia de un adolescente enamorado por primera vez. Aunque los años habían pasado desde el inicio de su relación con el capitán, cada día que pasaba sentía que sus sentimientos se profundizaban, creciendo con la fuerza de un río subterráneo que se ensancha con el tiempo. Era un amor que no se agotaba, sino que se renovaba continuamente, siempre fresco y vibrante.

La realidad de sus vidas los mantenía apartados con una frecuencia dolorosa. Las misiones se volvían cada vez más peligrosas, demandando cada vez más de ellos, como una amante celosa y exigente. Ghost Team operaba en la delgada línea entre lo correcto y lo ilegal, desafiando a las altas esferas del poder militar con el fin de proteger a los civiles y a sus países. Ocultos tras máscaras, enfrentaban la corrupción que infectaba cada rincón del mundo, y su carga de trabajo aumentaba con cada día que pasaba. A veces, se sentía como si estuvieran luchando contra una hidra, cortando una cabeza solo para ver crecer dos más en su lugar.

A pesar de la doble vida que llevaban, Alejandro y sus compañeros no dejaban de ser humanos. Entre traiciones y pérdidas, la línea que los separaba de los fantasmas que perseguían se desdibujaba constantemente. Sin embargo, en medio de la oscuridad y el peligro, Alejandro encontraba consuelo y fortaleza en su equipo, una familia de hermanos en la que confiaba su vida entera. Y en ese equipo, había alguien especial, alguien a quien quería cuidar por encima de todo: John Price.

...

CONTINÚA LEYENDO EL ONESHOT COMPLETO AQUÍ:

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲.

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: idol!minho/idol!felix. introvert minho & extrovert felix. literally grumpy and sunshine troupe. hurt/comfort. angst!! fluff. pining galore. slightly suggestive at some points. minho pov. confession au! minho is soo fucking whipped for felix it's hilarious sksk-

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. the angst is FELT in this one. hurt feelings and misunderstandings abound. minho is soo fucking whipped for felix it's hilarious sksk-

word count: 3.5k

summary: although they were complete opposites, minho and felix got along perfectly - fit together like the two halves of a silvery moon. at least, that's what minho had initially thought for years, until felix suddenly starts outright avoiding him.

a/n: this one's on the pure, angsty side of things ya'll. a little bit suggestive, but nothing too spicy. 🫣 I'm srsly abt to kms over this entire thing, I'm literally losing my fucking MIND over how good this shit is??? 😭😫 also, their perf at lola?? yeah, it's gonna take me at LEAST 30 full business days to get over that shit. 😃👍🏼 ANYWAYS .... if ya'll are looking for more minlix content from me, check out the series on ao3 that this oneshot is apart of... it's pretty much nsfw for now, but I plan to write more angsty/fluffy stuff for it in the future as well!! 🤡

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

It was a universally known fact that Lee Minho was a total and complete introvert. 

  A textbook one, to be honest. 

  Hating big crowds, quiet in group settings. You know, the usual traits for an introvert. 

  And everyone around him seemed to know this fact. They all acknowledged it and respected his boundaries. The boys always took into account his needs and his limits and never pushed him to the brink. 

  Even if the teasing could sometimes get a bit out of hand. 

  At least, everyone except Lee Felix knew about Minho's introverted ways. 

  Or perhaps, the younger male realized it but just failed to take into account the way he should treat Minho differently from the rest. 

  So instead of avoiding inviting Minho out to big parties, Felix was always the first to ask him to join. 

  And how could Minho ever possibly say no to him... to that face? 

 With that cute, little pouty mouth and those constellations of freckles and those starry eyes? 

  Usually, Minho almost always gave in to Felix's requests. 

  He was under no obligation to do so, though. They were only bandmates. Only best friends. 

  Nothing else. 

  But sometimes, when he was persuaded to go out on the town with Felix, that small voice in the back of his head would make its appearance. Telling Minho that he should just confess his feelings. That he should just admit to what he was thinking about Felix. 

  Yeah, he only thought about such things sometimes... 

  The dark, twisted musings he often had of the younger, turquoise-blue-haired male definitely didn't bubble up into his head regularly. 

  No, definitely not... 

  Nevertheless, Felix seemed to continually live in ignorant bliss about Minho's introverted ways. Almost like, his life was so bright and full of sunshine, that he couldn't see anything past his extroverted way of thinking. 

  This became apparent by how fucking talkative he was. 

  Especially at the end of the day, when their schedules were done and they had arrived home at the dorm. 

  Felix always seemed to trap Minho when Seungmin and Jeongin were away, either busy getting ready for bed or watching a tv show in their respective bedrooms. 

  Like a spider catching a wee fly in its web, Felix would corner Minho throughout their shared dorm - whether it was in the kitchen, living room, or bathroom. 

  The conversations were always pretty mindless, with him usually rambling off about the day's activities. And almost all of the time, Minho just listened. 

  Never interrupting, never stopping him. 

  Sure, he was really fucking tired from the workday.

  And sure, he kind of wanted to unwind in his own space... get lost in his head, and stay in the silence that he loved so much. 

  But he also kind of loved the conversations. 

 Albeit, they were quite one-sided, although Felix didn't seem to mind one bit. 

 To be honest, he didn't even seem to notice Minho's quietness most of the time. 

  He'd just follow Minho around the house, chatting up a storm, gesturing with his tiny hands elatedly. 

  And the older male would just nod fondly and hum when he deemed it necessary. 

  So just like that, they fell into a routine. 

  A unique rhythm. 

  Where Felix was allowed to prattle on for hours at the end of the way, and Minho got accustomed to de-stressing with the sound of his voice in the background. 

  Just the sound of his deep, rumbly voice after a long day, stretching on and on, seemed to do something intoxicating to Minho's brain. 

  Caused an infection to spread like wildfire. 

  And soon enough, he found it hard to fall asleep late at night if he didn't get a chance to hear how Felix's day had gone. 

  It was relaxing, to hear him chat about everything. It lulled Minho into a dream-like state, softening his harder edges and making his muscles sink into a sleepy pile of limbs. 

  That's how the two of them ended up in the dorm's kitchen late one night, with Minho calmly cooking up a shrimp pasta dish for dinner while Felix sat on a nearby barstool, talking about his day. 

  "Minji said that I should try like, a neon purple colour for our next comeback..." He trailed off, the sound of Minho chopping up an onion overtaking the lull of stillness between them. "What do you think, Hyung? I don't know if I would-"

  Minho stopped chopping then, staring up at him with a faint smile, "Lix, you look amazing in any colour. Don't stress about it, yeah?" And he watched, as the happiness brightened up Felix's entire face in the form of a huge grin. Minho's heart beat wildly against his ribcage just at the sight of it, thumping painfully loud in his ears and drowning out all other sounds.

  "Thanks, Hyung. I can always count on you to give it to me straight..." Then he kept talking, and all the while the older male continued to prepare dinner for them.

  He was used to the routine. 

  He liked the routine the two of them had. 

  Loved the habits they were forming together late into the night. 

  So then, months later, upon the sudden stark change in Felix's demeanor, it was like Minho's entire world shifted on its axis. 

  No longer would the younger boy come home and seek him out immediately. 

  Instead, Minho would oftentimes find him holed up in his room, playing video games on his computer or watching TikToks snuggled up in his bed. 

  No longer did Felix lean against the kitchen counter and tell him all about his feelings on their newest activities while Minho cooked dinner for everyone. 

  Instead, Minho would catch a glimpse of him hunched over at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book as he quickly scarfed up a plain bowl of rice and a fried egg. 

  No longer did the blue-haired man sit next to Minho on the living room couch late into the night, mindlessly commenting on the characters in the drama that they were watching together. 

  Instead, Minho would notice him curled up in the corner of the living room's armchair, laptop on the coffee table as he engrossed himself in the newest American action movie.

  And it really fucking hurt. 

  To fall out of such a routine. 

  To realize how much he relied on it all. 

  How much he relied on Felix.

  To miss it so much, that he could feel his heart squeezing painfully each second Felix spent his nights away from him. 

  Almost like, he was avoiding Minho altogether. 

  Minho would lie awake in bed late at night, just staring mindlessly up at the ceiling. His mind and heart racing in tandem as he tried to recall the moment when things had gone amiss. 

  Did he say something? 

  Did he do something wrong? 

  He knew that Felix was a sensitive soul, which was why he always treated him delicately. 

  He treated him differently than he did the other members. 

  And every night, he could never come up with a solid conclusion as to why things had gone south. 

  When finally, things came to a head. 

  It was after a painfully grueling night in the practice room that Minho came home to a dark, hushed dorm. He was exhausted - both mentally and physically. 

  All he wanted at that moment was to lay his eyes on him - to hear his voice, soothing all of his worries from the day away. Like dark chocolate melting in a warm saucepan. 

  The others were still out, finishing up their schedules for the night. And the dorm felt barren and void of all life. 

  Except, as Minho stepped out of the entryway, he noticed the single overhead light of the stovetop flicked on. There was Felix, perched atop the granite countertop, a white porcelain bowl in his hand. 

  He didn't even notice that the older male was home. He was so focused on eating his cereal that he failed to hear the sound of Minho's gym bag plopping down on the marble floor. 

  Just like that, Minho's weak heart finally came to a standstill. Breaking irrevocably. 

  The shards that he was left with stirred around inside of his chest painfully, seeming to stab his lungs as he slowly approached the kitchen. 

  It hurt to breathe. 

  Hurt to walk. 

  Even still, he managed to push through the agony of it all.  

  It was only then that Felix looked up and caught sight of him. He offered him a fleeting smile, "Oh- hi, Hyung. I didn't see you there." He said, just as he shoveled in another spoonful of cereal, swinging his legs back and forth in the air nonchalantly. 

  Minho remained silent for one beat, 

  Two beats, 

  Three beats. 

  Destroyed heart clambering in his chest, exhaustion overtaking his entire mind, shoulders slumping in defeat. 

  "Why don't you do it anymore?" 

  The words came out soft and wobbly, barely above a whisper. Minho was speaking like someone else was in the room - like the others were lingering around. 

  But it was just them. 

  With Felix sitting atop the kitchen countertop and Minho but a few steps away, at a standstill, spine completely frozen. 

  "W-What?" Felix asked, dark brows furrowing in confusion. He had no idea what Minho was talking about. 

  Of course, he wouldn't. 

  It's not like they talked about it. 

  Hell- they barely even talked at all. Hadn't in what felt like fucking months. 

  "You barely even give me the time of day anymore," Minho started, voice a little shaky as his hands trembled at his sides. He had to force his fists into balls, to stop them from quivering so badly. "Barely say ten words to me all day." He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to point out the elephant in the fucking room. But it was too obvious to avoid anymore. Too painful to brush under the rug. "What happened, Lix? What happened to all of those nights when we'd talk and have fun together?" 

  "You mean when I'd talk." 

  His words cut through Minho like a knife. The pointed edge of them icy against his flesh, tearing him up in a cruel kind of way. 

  "No, I mean-"

  Felix took in a deep sigh, before placing his bowl of cereal down on the countertop next to him. He sat back a little bit so that he could get a clear view of the crimson-haired man. He leveled the elder with a serious face, brows still furrowed and that pretty pink mouth pressed into a firm line. "I was always the one talking, Minho. You barely said two words most of the time." 

  The use of his name caused the hurt to swish in Minho's stomach, forcing him to feel miserably queasy at that moment. Because Felix never called him that. 

  "I don't know what-" He began, but was cut off by Felix holding a small hand up in the air. 

 His eyes, which were locked with Minho's, said it all. 

  He was already done with the conversation. He had said all that he wanted to. 

  There was just... nothing there anymore. 

  "It's fine, Hyung. Really. You don't have to apologize or anything. I get it." He said, voice dull and lifeless. 

  Where was the Lee Felix that Minho had grown to love? 

  Where was the bright ball of sunshine that he had matured right alongside with? 

  Where was he? 

  Because this Felix- the one with a cool gaze and a deep-set frown, was not his Felix. 

  "You really don't get it, do you?" Minho said, tone faint and wavering. He was nearing Felix then, watching as the younger halted in his place. Spine going rigid, he sat up a little straighter. 

  And then Minho was just before him, placing his arms on either side of Felix's hips, palms pressing into the chilly marbled countertop. Caging the younger man in, and staring down at him with a wildly-beating destroyed heart and a huge lump forming in his throat. 

  Felix turned his head up, catching his gaze with wide eyes. The cotton-candy pink of a flush was already traveling up the milky skin of his neck, pooling into his cheeks and casting a bright red galaxy against his freckles. Already, he was getting flustered from their proximity. 

  "Do you even realize how it is for me?" The words were slipping free from Minho's mouth in the next beat. He felt Felix's warm breath fan against his face from how close they were. "I can't fucking breathe for even a second if you're not around. I can't think, I can't speak, I can't function properly." Just as Felix's mouth was opening to cut in, Minho continued his spiel. "If I don't see you- lay my eyes on this fragile little body or this pretty little face, I fucking fall apart. If I don't hear your voice, I can't sleep all night." 

  Minho was moving after that, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was leaning further into Felix, hand coming up to his face and fingers tracing against the line of his jaw. Gently, he cupped his chin, the pad of his thumb brushing against his puffy pink bottom lip.  

  Their gazes caught just then, and Minho could sense the feelings raging just beneath the surface of Felix. And Minho thought that he also probably looked quite similar in the younger's eyes. 

  "So you can hate me and you can loathe me and you can despise me," Minho began in a breathless whisper, "But don't ever avoid me again. Otherwise, I'll suffocate and die a slow and painful death." 

  He couldn't seem to pull his hand away from the younger's face, even when it grew so hot to the touch, it felt like his palm was about to burn up in a scorch of hot flames. Even when a slight, painful squeak fled from between Felix's lips. 

  Almost like, this hurt him just as much. 

  "I never hated you," he murmured back, tone registering low. The sound of it rumbled out, cascading across the shell of Minho's ears and shooting a violent shiver down the length of his spine. "I could never- not when I fucking love you so much. And I... I was avoiding you because I was scared. Scared of what you thought of me- and my loose mouth."

  Minho kept silent, thumb continuing to press against his lip, soothing Felix as the feelings and thoughts started to spill out of him like a magical elixir trickling out of a stunning glass tincture. 

  "Someone told me about you- about your true personality, and how you're reclusive and stuff. And I- I got scared, that you hated all of our late nights together and you hated how much I talked. And then I noticed how quiet you always were and I thought that maybe it was better if I just stayed away and let you have your space after work. I didn't want to burden you anymore and-"

  "Kitten, you're never a burden to me," Minho cut in, hand finally pulling away from Felix's lips and trailing towards his hair. He pushed some of the shock-blue locks behind his delicate ear, and something tiny and fiery stirred in the pit of his stomach at the mewl that he heard Felix creak out from the nickname alone. "Just because I'm so different from you, doesn't mean I don't enjoy your company. And just because I don't talk all the time, doesn't mean I hate you for talking to me after work." 

  At that, Felix stared up at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "Y-You enjoy my company?" His voice trailed off into the distance softly, his eyes fluttering closed at the way Minho's fingers raked across his scalp. 

  Slowly, he pulled at his blue roots, forcing Felix's eyes open again so that Minho could see the look in them as he finally spoke the words he had been stirring over for what felt like a fucking millennium. 

  "I adore it, Lix. I can't live without it, to be honest," he confessed, flashing the younger a meek smile. And at that moment, Felix looked so perfect. So vulnerable and adorable all at the same time. "Fuck- I need to kiss you right now. Can I? Please..." 

  Felix gaped up at him, the overhead kitchen light sparkling in his eyes like a million different constellations all at once. Like he was in complete awe of the situation at hand, and he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that everything was happening to him just then. 

  "Yes- yes, a thousand times yes." He cried desperately in that cute, small voice of his. 

  And then nothing else mattered, as Minho held onto his jaw, tilting Felix's head upwards as he connected their lips. Like they were meant to never separate, they fit each other perfectly. 

  In an instant, Felix was melting into the feel of Minho's mouth wrapped around his. His hands came up around the elder's waist, digging into the fabric of his t-shirt and drawing him ever closer. Minho's tongue dragged across his bottom lip, and soon, teeth were bumping against teeth as they tasted one another. Felix groaned, fingers clutching on tight to Minho as he teased him with his kisses right there in the middle of the kitchen.

  The kiss was ethereal and perfect and everything Minho had always dreamed of. 

  And when they broke apart to catch their breaths, a messy string of saliva connecting them, Felix stared up at him with vast eyes and flushed cheeks, and a faint smile. 

  "Has anyone ever told you how fucking beautiful you are, kitten?" Minho mused off, fingertips ghosting across his smattering of freckles.

  The cerulean-haired male giggled softly, hands bunching up the fabric of Minho's shirt and dragging him closer so that he could wrap his legs around his waist. "Yeah, but you've never done it before." 

  "Well, now I'm saying it," Minho began, lips ghosting over his nose as he kissed it. "Pretty," he continued on his path, kissing either of his rosy cheeks. "Gorgeous," his mouth trailed up to his forehead, brushing the locks of blue there aside. "Stunning." 

  Then he stopped just at Felix's mouth again, hovering, breathing warmth against his lips. 

  "W-Will you c-call me that again?" Felix suddenly blurted out quietly, the words tumbling from him at a rushed pace. The way he stuttered nervously, like a young schoolboy confessing to his crush, did something funny to Minho's heart. Brought the shattered pieces back together, in a jumbled mess. 

  Minho could already feel the smirk spreading across his face, as he pondered over the idea. "Hmm..." He tapped a finger against his chin, to seem like he was mulling it over. When in reality, he'd give the entire world for Felix if he asked for it. He'd lasso the moon down from the night sky and gift it to the younger male if he wanted it badly enough. "Only if you're a good boy for me." His eyes flicked towards Felix's, catching the way the furious bloom of crimson erupted across his face and flooded into the tips of his ears. "You think you can do that for me? Be a good boy for Hyung?" 

  His head of blue hair was already moving up and down, as he nodded furiously. Teeth peeking out in a cheeky grin, he spoke in a fleeting voice. "Yes, I can be really fucking good... but only for you, Min." 

  That automatically made Minho's heart melt, dripping like cool water in his entire chest. The love he held for the younger male coursed through his veins then, lighting up his nervous system and making him see in full colour as he tilted into Felix. 

  Mouth pressing against the pulse point of the column of his neck, Minho shuttered out in a deep whisper. "Such a pretty kitten..." His lips attached to the warm flesh there, teeth sucking faintly and leaving a light violet bruise in the wake of his attention. He continued making his way down Felix's neck, loving the way the younger's fingers automatically carded through his locks, pushing him closer to his skin. "And all mine, too." 

  Felix squirmed against him then, moaning faintly at Minho's words. They were both suggestive and true to what he honestly felt for Felix. 

  And in that moment, other, dark thoughts flashed across the forefront of his mind too. 

  Visions of his sweet angel Felix, wriggling underneath him. 

  Fragile, petite limbs tangled up in bedsheets, 

  Skin flushed that pretty pink shade that always drove Minho so wild. 

  That delicate, small mouth of his, opened up in a filthy way, as the ecstasy fell from his lips in garbled sounds. 

  Minho knew that all of his deepest, darkest fantasies would one day come true. Would one day take place in the future. 

  And all because Felix had dared to talk to him late at night after their schedules. 

Fin.

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[wyrmst]

(Naga + Four of Swords)

M Naga x Demisexual M Elf Reader

Wordcount: 6019

Content Warnings: Old Injury/Chronic Pain, Scars, Religious Themes/Trauma, Cloacal Sex (Reader Tops)

This one ran a little long, and personally I blame inherited catholic guilt.

Rain again today.

A loathsome drizzle.

You watch it patter down from your post by the door to the grand hall, the water pooling on the autumn leaf litter you haven’t had a chance to rake in days. You rub out your aching, fussy shoulder.

"My, it's really coming down out there. No end in sight.” Mother Abbess appears at your side and clicks her tongue, as if chiding the weather might make it stop. “And the station broadcast said because of the magical nature of this cold front, that it’ll carry on like this for several weeks. Weeks! Can you believe it, Ser?”

"Hmmh." You grunt in acknowledgement, not really feeling the desire to socialize; the burning ache from your shoulder to the fingertips on your casting hand- your former casting hand- is more than enough to turn you off from pleasant conversation. The rain only makes the aching and the stiffness worse.

"Perhaps it'd be smart to prepare some of the extra beds, just to be safe?" She says thoughtfully,  in her usual cheery, warm tone. "Any travelers unfortunate enough to be caught on the road now will want to shelter here until this awful downpour finally stops."

You came to this temple to recover from the injury that took you out of service. Once a knight-sorcerer, you’re now, technically speaking, only a knight, and a very underworked one, at that.

You used to be able to help people. Now you are another glorified doorstop, guarding a sleepy temple that not a single beast nor bandit has dared to touch in the time you’ve been here. They seem to be repelled from the place, regardless of your presence.

The longer you’re here, the more you realize your recuperation time seems to not have an end. You’ve come to suspect that you’ve been left here to rot.

You let out a long, withering sigh. You’re still far too young to have been politely yet forcibly retired in everything but name- shoved in a corner to collect dust. But while you crave the bloodrush of combat, you know that realistically, you would not be able to hold up the way you are now.

Evening meal time rolls around, the chattering of the young initiate priestesses carrying over even to the end of the long table where you solemnly eat.

“No, that’s impossible. You’re just making things up for attention-”

“I’m telling you, it’s haunted!”

Then Mother Abbess joins the table, interest sharply piqued. 

“What’s this silly business I hear about ghosts in the temple? You know, our good knight goes to great lengths to make sure the temple is safe for all of us.” The older woman turns her attention to you with a playful smile; what you now know is her way of trying to rope you into joining in on the conversation, like a mother trying to goad her shy child into speaking up. “Have you seen any ghouls or spectres on your patrols lately, Ser?”

“Not one.” You shake your head, then continue to chew in silence.

“See ladies, there’s nothing to worry about!”

“No Mother, not the temple- the crypt. It’s coming from inside the tomb! We heard it!!” 

“Hilde and I went to refresh the altar for the dead, like you asked, but- oh, the sounds! Banging, scraping, groaning like pain! It was far too terrifying. We ran back before we could even think of finishing.”

“Well, that’s no good. This certainly isn’t the time of year to slack on honoring the dead, either.” She taps her chin in thought with the hand not holding her spoon. “Ser, do you think you might be able to go check the crypt after supper? So we might have some peace of mind.”

Obedient as always, after you’ve eaten, you re-don your armor just in case, and slog out into the rain and water-logged mud, towards the crypt for your obligatory ghost hunt. 

You’re not going to find any ghosts, you’re sure. At most, perhaps a weak, trapped lesser spirit that can’t even communicate properly- but even that seems unlikely. At least the younger residents of the temple will be able to sleep soundly at night; that is enough of a reason for you.

The main door hangs ajar, left to creak as the wind moves it back and forth.

You click your tongue. The young sisters must’ve fled in such a hurry they left the door open. Still, you steel yourself and sharpen your senses despite the lack of obvious threat, just as your training has taught you.

You light the lamp and kick the excess mud from your boots before you descend the stone stairs into the darkness. You’ll take a look around, then you’ll be back up to the dry warmth of your bed, trying to sleep through the dull pain in your arm.

Inside, the crypt is dark, damp, and smells of old incense and lamp oil. The only thing that lives here is spiders and mold, surely. But the echo of your footsteps and the haunted atmosphere makes you feel starkly like you’re not alone here.

But in your search, you find nothing amiss. You only find the silence of the dead. Whatever was here must be long gon-

A noise in the silence, like a pained voice.

Was that a groan?

The hairs on your neck stand on end, your pupils constrict, sweat beads on your forehead. Your heart starts racing, gripped by a cold fist of terror.

Your good hand flies to the hilt of your sword.

“REVEAL YOURSELF!” You boom into the supposedly empty crypt, projected voice reverberating off the stone walls.

You are an extensively trained, battle hardened knight. Few things can shake you.

But perhaps you were wrong to doubt the young priestesses, this time-

The cold-burning torches in the chamber seem to flicker all at once.

Stone grinds on stone. The lid of a nearby sarcophagus moves in front of your eyes.

Your hand clutches the gas lamp, feeling your knuckles go white under your gauntlet, watching the stone lid continue to move back. You expect to see some spectral or skeletal hand rise from the gap, someone long dead disturbed from their eternal slumber.

You half-pull your sword from its sheath, ready to deliver this revenant to its second death as soon as the rest of your body breaks out of your fear induced paralysis.

Instead of a translucent or rotting set of digits, though, a slender, intact and solid olive-skinned hand reaches out, grasping aimlessly, followed by the other one.

“What in the Lady’s name-” You sputter, trying to make sense of the seemingly living person currently inhabiting the tomb.

With a pained groan, the rest of their body rises out of the dusty sarcophagus. They’re wobbling fiercely, barely able to support their own weight, but you get a good look at them.

Smooth, cinderous dark brown hair. Sleepy, heavily lashed, almond shaped eyes. Expensive looking clothing far too thin and flimsy for proper insulation needed for the beginning of the wet, cold autumn in the remote wilds. 

…And the bottom half of a serpent? Specifically, scales of a vibrant gradient of variated oranges and yellows, with splotchy black stripes running horizontally down, from trunk to tail.

You know people like this exist, but you’ve never interacted with one in person, even in your travels during active duty. A sort of snake-people. Naga, if you recall correctly.

“What in the blazes are you doing in this crypt, serpent?” 

“Pleassssse-” Their voice trails off weakly, slurring and nearly incoherent, grabbing at you in desperation. “Heeeelp.”

Desire to help those in need wins out over your own hesitance and shock and perhaps small bias, and you reach out the arm that they seem to be gravitating towards, despite it being your bad one. Their skin is cold as ice where they hold onto your neck for balance, their thin clothing still damp and clinging to them.

They immediately collapse against your body, laying their face on your shoulder. You can’t help but think that the weight feels good against your plate. When was the last time you were touched like this…? 

You can’t remember.

You quickly shake the thought away. There are more pressing matters.

You help them back to the temple, slogging through the soggy ground with the added weight. Mother Abbess and the rest of the priestesses still milling about after supper are surprised to say the least, and you set the stranger to rest in front of the main fireplace in the dining hall, hopefully sufficiently fulfilling their request for heat.

After Mother Abbess has shooed away the rest of the prying eyes and only you, her and the new visitor remain, she addresses them.

“Let me fetch you some hot broth and some blankets, dear. That will help you warm up while we have a chat.”

You watch the naga closely, arms crossed and feet planted, while Mother Abbess goes to retrieve some broth from the kitchens. Given the naga’s incapacitated state, you doubt they could be a threat right now even if they tried, but you are trained to be ready for one, regardless.

After a few minutes, they shudder and stretch out their limbs, seeming to come back to life a bit. They turn their head to look at you curiously, the sharp lines of their features backlit by the fire. 

“Here you are, dear.” She hands them the wooden bowl full of heated broth.

“Thaaaank youuuu.”

A long, slender black tongue creeps out from between their lips and dips into the liquid, sampling it with a gentle flutter.

Seemingly finding it to their liking, they retract their tongue and start to sip from the edge of the bowl like a civilized person.

Then they smile at you, as if to silently address the fact that you’re staring, making your face flush in uncharacteristic bashfulness. Prickly heat creeps up the back of your neck- from standing so close to the fireplace in plate armor and nothing else, you’re sure.

“My name issss… Sssssalim. I am a healer by trade.” He manages to speak slowly, his voice gradually losing the harsh hissing noise and settling into a more subtle, faint accent as he pulls himself together. “Thank you for the… assisssstance…”

Mother Abbess gives him a brief introduction to the temple, herself, and even you, much to your chagrin.

“However did you come to be inside our temple’s crypt, Salim?”

“I had paid a merchant to transssport me through the mountains, for a job placement from the order I have waiting in the city. But during a break for the oxen… I spotted some mushrooms that are an essential ingredient for a rare curative balm, so I went off to collect them… The merchant seemed to have left me behind during that time,” He recounts the story, surprisingly even-tempered while recalling it when he’s described essentially what amounts to paying someone to leave you to die in the deep woods. “I wandered for what must have been days, it started raining… it didn’t stop raining… then I saw the stone marker for the temple… it seems as if I took the wrong door in, but by then I was too dazzzed by the cold to find my way out… but as luck would have it, I arrived here, all the same.”

He lets out a hiss of a laugh at his own folly, a sound you can’t help but find downright charming.

…Charming? What’s gotten into you this evening?

“Oh, what an unfortunate experience you’ve had! Good thing we prepared those spare beds in the guest dormitory earlier.” Mother Abbess beams, placing a wrinkled hand on her sternum. “The good knight will show you where you can sleep, Salim. You’re free to stay here as long as you need.”

He thanks her profusely for the hospitality, and then they indulge in a bit of idle chatter which quite honestly, you could do without. Once he seems to have recovered enough to move around, you escort him to the guest dormitory.

“You will sleep here.” You say curtly as you direct him to one of the made-up bunks closest to the small hearth in the guest hall you stoked earlier. Then, before you can even second guess why you’re saying it, add; “Do not even consider sneaking into the sisters' dormitory, or I will not hesitate to cut you down.”

“Ah, that won’t be a problem- if you’re implying what I think you are.” They say in the most polite manner possible for such an unprompted accusation. Their black tongue flickers in consideration, seeming to taste the air like any other snake’s would. “Even if I had nefarious intentions… There’s nothing that suits my particular interests to be found there…”

“Right.” You say, then think to yourself; Perhaps he only finds others of his kind suitable as potential mates. 

…Good.

Over the next few days, Salim seems to begin to make himself right at home at the temple. He enjoys spending time in the library and chatting with the sisters in the dining hall, while you prefer to spend your time as far away as you can while still keeping a watchful, distrustful eye on him.

…Only for the sake of security, of course. 

Despite him claiming he has no interest in them, the young priestesses are all a bit too interested in him for your liking. Instead of their usual chatter when not doing their duties, they’ve started gathering to listen to stories about his travels with the rapt attention a child would give a shiny new toy, or a schoolgirl would dote on their first crush.

If you thought that Mother Abbess trying to force you to socialize was bad before, you now know the strife of having to endure conversations with Salim, as well. It’s nearly every time he lays eyes on you, it feels like, with the curious looks and the incessant questions.

His presence in the temple makes you feel… strange. 

Wrong, somehow. A benign sort of malaise.

You try to bury it, and just go about your normal routine.

Mother Abbess has the bright idea to enlist Salim into doing health check-ups while he’s here, which he readily agrees to do as gratitude for the aid he’s already received. Over the next few days, everyone has had their turn having a physical, while you have been conveniently busy every time that you might be called to have yours done.

But as the rain continues to pour without signs of relenting, and the surrounding wilderness grows saturated and flooded, the aches and pains are only getting worse and worse, harder to ignore by the day. It hadn’t interfered with your duties yet, but one day, you finally slip up. The Mother Abbess finds you struggling to collect the stack of dry firewood you’ve dropped across the stone floor of the main hall, then proceeds to tear into you in her characteristic, most loving of ways.

"-And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re avoiding having your physical. But you need to have your injury looked at, at least! It has been causing you pain; I see you struggling with it, even if you hide it well, Ser." Mother Abbess scolds you after helping you to pick up the logs, complete with finger wagging. "We finally have a healer in the temple again after old Mother Alys passed, so stop being so stubborn and make use of his services while he's here! He may only be here until the rain lets up, as far as we know- and then you’ll have lost the opportunity completely. You will go, if I have to see you there myself!"

“Yes, Mother.” You grumble out your reluctant agreement. As much as you wish it wasn't true in this case, she rarely guides you wrong. “Escorting me will not be necessary. I will go of my own accord.”

"It would not hurt you to make a friend, either.” She adds, emotionally kicking you in the ribs while you’re down. “There is nothing in the scripture forbidding having a friend."

Obedient as you are, you force yourself to pay him a visit in the quiet, mostly unused infirmary. You part the privacy curtain, walls drawn up and ready to get through this experience- but instead you’re met with a precious sight.

Salim seems to have fallen asleep in the padded chair in the corner of the room near the hearth, serpentine lower body coiled up around himself, a book propped in the dip between layers of scaled tail.

He finally seems to wake. Warm toned eyes blink open, their pupils constricting into lines as they take you in.

“Oh, why hello. My last patient finally arrives…” Salim yawns and rubs at one eye. “It was so quiet and serene back here, and the fire so pleasant- It seems I couldn't help but doze off…”

He rises lithely and arches his back like a cat waking up from a good nap in a sunny spot. The book on his chest slides down his body, seemingly forgotten.

Reflexes sharp as ever, your hand snaps out to catch the book before it falls. You don’t need to read the title to recognize it, but you skim it anyway.

Lady Night’s Good Knight, and Other Courtly Tales

You’re very familiar with this book- it’s a collection of old knight’s tales, simple parables that are intended to be bedtime stories for children. What is he doing reading this, of all things? You would assume a healer as erudite as he’s shown himself to be would be reading one of the numerous dusty old historical manuscripts or books cataloging flora and fauna of the area.

“Oh! Have you read this book before?” He gestures to the tome you’re now pondering in your hands. “I found it in the library and was far too intrigued to pass it over.”

“Back when I was a boy and not once since.”

“The tales inside are quaint, but enjoyable. I had never given knighthood much thought before coming here, but I admit I’m quite intrigued by the idea now. …Back home, there are no knights. Or I suppose everyone who is physically able is a knight, in some regard- it depends on how strictly one considers the definition of chivalry.”

“A kingdom full of knights sounds like a blasted nightmare.” You find yourself speaking far too candidly before you can stop, remembering what your more active days in the order were like. “That’s a recipe for far too many pissing contests for my liking. Everyone wants to ride in and play hero, and not a soul can fill out a single page of paperwork.”

“Healers never want to do their paperwork either.” Salim’s face lights up in amusement, a soft hissing laugh escaping his lips. You experience a short moment of pride that you’ve made him laugh, followed by that strange feeling- some mix of joy and terror and confusion filling you once again. 

Suddenly a ball of nerves forms in your stomach, realizing you’re about to let him touch you.

“Let us get this over with quickly,” You gripe, setting the book on the end table and taking a seat in the chair across from him. “I still have duties to see to before night falls.”

“Of course.” He says politely, and efficiently prepares what he needs to get down to business.

It’s a needlessly vexing experience; being poked and prodded, performing tricks on command like a well-trained hound, with Salim uttering the occasional hum that may be a good hum or a bad hum, for all you know- And the invasive sensation of his hand on your chest to auscultate your heartbeat and breathing has your skin prickling under your collar.

“My, are you a wonderful specimen. Steady heartbeat, clear lungs, good color to your gums.” Salim praises you after he’s finished examining your general health with the medical kit still left over from the old healer. He now motions for you to undo your shirt. “You are an exceptionally healthy man. Barring this one glaring area, it would seem. Let us take a look…”

You hesitate, but you relent and untie your loose, simple linen shirt just enough to slip your arm out of the sleeve. One hand gently slinks up the back of your firm upper arm, the other holding your elbow.

It’s a dreadful, ugly thing, your bad arm. Discolored and shiny from the healed burn from your fingertips all the way to your clavicle. To make things somehow more ghastly, the veins on your arm are ruddy black and fully visible from where the overloaded mana scorched through your blood.

"And your magic is fire." He says, a statement, not a question, as he manipulates your arm to inspect the way your scarring behaves. "Mine, as well."

You can already tell his alignment is fire; if not clear from the familiar hum within you in acknowledgement, it is clear from the pleasant smell of recently extinguished candle that seems to always permeate his general vicinity.

"It was. Why does it matter?"

"The raw power still radiating from this…" The way he looks at your arm feels almost reverent, his eyes glimmering. "You would have been quite the sight to behold, were you not? Before all of this damage."

“Does this endless prattle have a meaning?” You say, your nerves forever raw when it comes to this subject. “What are you seeking?”

"I simply thought since we share the same mana alignment, that you'd enjoy speaking about it. And that we could perhaps come to know each other better…" He hopefully looks up his brow at you, still holding your arm aloft in his elegant hands as he inspects you like some piece of meat for slaughter.

You grit your teeth, pulling your scarred limb away.

“My magic was a gift from the Lady. Now, it is gone- Revoked. Of course I don’t want to dwell on that fact. What more is there for me to say about it?”

"...I apologize if I have caused any negative feelings to resurge. I only wished to propose… a mutually beneficial arrangement between us. We could be of great assistance to one another, even share some comfort-"

"I don't want or need your comfort," You snap, pulling your shirt sleeve back on, confusion at your own feelings bubbling up into anger. "Unless it's bloody healing. Can you help with this pain or not?"

"I am capable, and the solution is related. Being a sorcerer, your mana is continuing to generate internally- perhaps moreso than normal to overcompensate for the weather. However, the damage to your arm is preventing the natural release of that unused accumulation, also due to the weather. Due to the age of your injury, I'm sure you already are familiar with the treatment for this particular predicament; Siphoning.” Salim pauses, waiting until he sees your nod in understanding before continuing. “…While my own mana stores have not fully recovered from my jaunt through the woods, not in such damp conditions as these. So, I could take this excess from you, through touch… If that was a prospect you found appealing…"

“I do not.” You say, standing to depart so abruptly that the chair scrapes the stone loudly. “I will wait this out, just as I always do.”

“I do not think that is very wise...” Salim says grimly. You see concern etched in his features. “But I would never force a patient to accept treatment.”

You don't want to think of it. Nor do you want to think about why your heart starts racing when you are close to him, or why your eyes always seem to catch on the sheen of his scales like they do on a well polished blade, or why the simple act of a gentle examination of your weakest part feels so good, so right, when he was the one doing it.

Giving up the chance to have a wife or a family never felt much like a loss when you were first training to be a knight. You had never felt much desire for one or the other, either way. But now… you finally feel this carnal sort of desire… and it’s for some monstrous serpentine abomination.

Another test of your virtue? 

Fine. You won’t give in.

Cold, wet days pass into cold, wet nights. Tonight you lie in your bed awake, overheating from the inside out, the blazing heat radiating from your arm. Your good hand clutches at your shoulder, knuckles white from the grip as you writhe, blankets fully kicked off. You bite into a scrap of leather from an old scabbard strap to keep from waking the whole temple with your screams.

This is certainly the worst flare up you've ever had, the old scar burning nearly as terribly as it did the day the explosion happened, when a magical attack overloaded your system and destroyed the ability for your own mana to properly cycle through your body. 

A broken circuit.

Typically flare ups only happen around excess of the corresponding element. But in such oversaturated conditions of the opposing element- in your case, the water in all this blasted rain- what remains of your mana becomes volatile, trying to overcompensate for your surroundings with nowhere to naturally leech off to.

But you are strong. You can weather this pain, like you have time and time before…

It just needs to pass already.

So close to the brink of being driven to complete madness by the torment, you almost fail to notice the door to your chambers slowly creaking open. The only light filtering in is from the window, as you've left your hearth unlit to avoid making your pain worse. But even in the low light, you can recognize those undulating movements anywhere now. 

"...I can feel the energy cresting all the way from my bunk," Salim's soft, worried voice says from the shadows- as if it was ever going to be someone else, slithering into your private chambers in the dead of night. "Please… allow me to help you."

"Fine! Fine. Do what you will to me, serpent," You growl, barely snarling back tears as the leather strap falls from your gritted teeth. "Just make it stop."

You expect maybe for him to come to your bedside and lay his hands on your arm from there, but instead you feel the weight of Salim slithering into your bed beside you. 

He entangles your arm with his upper body, pulling your hand towards his face to gently cup his cheek, your forearm tight against his body in its bent position. Every part of his exposed skin that he can feasibly manipulate into touching yours finds its way there; arms, hands, chest. Even his long tail winds itself around one of your legs.

Normally being pinned by another person’s weight like this might cause you to want to escape from the claustrophobic feeling, but it doesn’t seem to appear this time, only a strange sense of security after all the thrashing in pain you’ve been doing this evening. You find a comfort in it that you didn’t know you could crave.

The heat in your arm continues to grow, but it flows with purpose now. The molten energy flees your body, in favor of migrating into the naga’s adjacent body instead.

Sweeping tingles run over the surface of your skin in waves, wherever it has contact with his. The sensation is so overwhelming, almost like the ground falling out from below you, despite laying securely on a bed, but with an added layer of the temperature fluctuating wildly. 

Then… Relief. Finally, some modicum of relief.

This is what your sword must’ve felt when the blacksmith pulled it out of the forge, you hazily decide.

You're nearly euphoric in the simple absence of the white-hot needles jabbing into your flesh from the inside. It might as well be ecstasy, compared to what you’ve been enduring.

Thank the Lady- you think to yourself, before correcting yourself mentally. No, she gets sufficient enough praise the rest of the time. This time, it is 'thank Salim'.

You barely have the sense to care that that’s probably blasphemy, blinking the rims of your eyelids dry. Your heaving breaths finally start to even out into their normal, resting rate of rise and fall.

Finally in a calm, bearable state, you become acutely aware that you're now left in this close, pointedly intimate embrace with him. Shining starkly in the darkness, his irises have started to glow in a saturated vermillion hue, no doubt from the copious amount of magical energy he’s just taken in.

"This should suffice," Salim finally says, sounding sleep-drunk from all of the warmth of the mana he’s absorbed. He seems hesitant to actually let your arm go and depart, still holding your hand to his face, fingers weaved in yours. "I can leave now, if you wish."

"I do not wish for you to go." You admit, taking nearly all of your strength to keep your voice from shaking in fear of what that means.

"Oh?" He traces the fingers on his free hand down the inside of your forearm. How pleasing that simple pressure feels on the parts of your body usually used to the weight of heavy armor- which is most of it.

The feeling of the smooth, bare skin of his chest on your arm is just too enticing to let go, and your resolve crumbles.

The temptation is finally too much, and you're overtaken by the desire that's been gnawing at you despite your attempts to quash it.

You seize him at the back of the neck, pressing your mouth to his.

Salim seems shocked into stillness for a moment, before he relaxes in your grip, moaning his approval into your open, greedily searching mouth, and grasping the back of your own head with his hand. His fingers immediately catch in your hair, the sensation sending a flash of pleasure over your over-sensitive nerve endings. 

That long tongue you've thought about so much over the last several days glides across yours, winding around your own like his long serpentine tail is wound up between your legs, coiling around you.

Your free hand searches his side, grabbing anywhere you can find purchase. You want to take in everything; the sensation of soft skin that you know, though starved of, but also the new, enthralling sensation of hard reptilian plate underneath your fingers. It's smooth and rigid, yet still malleable as his dense muscles move underneath. 

You trace every crevice and crest you can reach where scale meets plate meets skin, investigating all the differences in texture. His body is positively drenched in warmth now- your warmth- and hot to the touch underneath your hands.

The solid feeling of Salim's tail between your legs feels dangerously good. You find yourself grinding against him to meet the rolling movements of his hips, already this close but desperately wanting to be closer, somehow.

You don't have to see it to know the thin linen sleeping trousers you wear to bed are not concealing anything at this point. The fabric is pulled taut against your arousal, barely even forming a barrier between the smooth plates of Salim's underbelly.

You barely feel any shame now, brazenly rubbing your hard cock against him. It simply feels too good to be embarrassed about at this point.

"This isn't a result of mana," Salim rasps in a moment taken to breathe, lips still hovering over yours. You can feel his dexterous fingers fiddle with the laces, and his tongue flicking at your neck. "But I can treat this heat as well…"

"Please," You growl.

Salim quickly loosens the laces just enough to push the fabric down as much as he'll need to, every minute trace of contact stoking your desperate need.

The darkness doesn't deter him all. His darkvision clearly must be better than yours- making lining up the wet, soft crevice between his belly scales with your waiting member trivially easy.

You can barely contain your excitement as your throbbing cock catches on the edge of his slick vent. The only thing you've felt before has been your own hand, in the times when you've needed release. You need to know how being squeezed inside him feels.

Salim doesn’t even extract himself from the coiled embrace he has you in, nor shift his weight. Once he is sure he's got the tip lined up where it needs to be, he simply starts pressing his hips flush to yours, taking you in.

A low, incomprehensible noise of approval escapes him as presses himself forward, all the way to the hilt. His fingertips grip at your chest while your own seek purchase in the dips of his hips.

Your jaw clenches involuntarily. He's hot, almost unbearably so. You knew he would be, but you weren't ready for the sensation of being enveloped by such sweltering, magically augmented heat. 

If the siphoning felt like your sword being pulled from the forge, this is being plunged back into it.

Your lack of experience doesn’t seem to matter anywhere near what you thought it would, not with Salim doing most of the hip movements. You thrust forward as much as being on your side and wound up by him allows, not content to be completely idle.

You're not going to last long like this, but you’ve got to try.

The writhing continues, locked in a slightly damp, molten knot of limbs and starved kisses, until you’re clenching every muscle just to let it continue a bit longer. The grip of Salim’s tail only gets tighter and tighter, until it culminates with a series of forceful contractions around every part he has you captive. That does you in, your own pelvic muscles violently tightening as Salim’s hole saps you of everything you have to give.

Afterwards, Salim doesn’t say anything, but the ragged breathing into your neck is just as good as any words he could say, anyway.

You lie there, skin still tingling all over with heat and a burn deep in your muscles- a pleasant kind in comparison. Eventually you drift off in the darkness, still holding a firm grip on the serpentine body entangled with you about the hips.

You sleep like the dead. 

When you wake in the morning you feel revitalized, like you're a new man.

It doesn’t take you long to notice your visitor from last night is nowhere to be seen. You briefly consider if it was all a lewd, feverish, hallucinatory dream…

Only it couldn't have been a dream- your arm is nearly devoid of pain as you clench a fist and flex your muscles, and you can still hear the rain pattering against your chambers' window.

Just as a small twinge of panic starts to set in, you hear someone slip into your chambers.

It’s exactly who you expect it to be, and he’s carrying what looks like two servings of warm breakfast on a tray. When your eyes meet, his mouth curls into an enigmatic smile.

“Good morning.”

“There was no need to coddle me like this.” You protest, sitting up in bed as he sets the tray down on your desk and takes a seat on the paired wooden stool. “I’m perfectly capable of making it to the dining hall.”

"You are sorely in need of time to recover… I've told the Mother that you are to do nothing but rest today."

"And I'm sure she found that terribly agreeable." You say, running your hand down your face in frustration. She's constantly chiding you to take more breaks as it is, and now she has reinforcements.

"Of course she did. Healer's orders," Salim says very seriously, though the glimmer in his eyes is clearly playful. "Though perhaps, depending on how you're feeling now… you may require additional treatment..."

Despite the exasperation, you can’t stop the twitch of a smile on your lips.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> 🃏TAROT SHORTS

[certified-sleep-deprived]

Originally posted: Oct 5 2022

Anonymous asks:

Hi! If your still taking requests…

I'd like an Ink Bendy x Male reader, but with Bendy as the bottom? Thanks for the time, cheers

(yep I still do requests! Hope you enjoy! I'm not too good at writing MxM but I made it work the best I could. Also yes the blue text is the Dua Lipa song. Sorry if its not that good, ive been busy with school stuff lately so i havent had much time to draw or write)

~Good In Bed~

Ink Bendy x Male! Reader

Paring: Male x Male

Smut (18+)

Swearing

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🎵Yeah, let's get to the point here

You love to disappoint me, don't ya?

You tell me what I want but ain't no follow through

You don't follow through, no🎵

There against the wall, was the Ink Demon being manhandled by his lover, F/N. The human male made out with the demon in a sort of aggressive way, by pushing him into the wall. The demon moaned as F/N felt up the skinny demon, feeling every jut of bone.

🎵But if you only knew me

The way you know my body, baby

Then I think maybe we could probably see this through

We could make it through, but🎵

The human shoved the demon onto a nearby cot in the room and started caressing his chest as he ground his hips into him. F/N started to take his jeans off and soon came his boxers as his erection sprang free and Bendy groaned.

🎵I've been thinkin' it'd be better

If we didn't know each other

Then you go and make me feel okay

Got me thinkin' it'd be better

If we didn't stay together

Then you put your hands up on my waist🎵

F/N hopped onto Bendy's waist and straddled him. The demon started to writhe and whine for his lover to go all out on him. He did this on purpose, knowing how much Bendy could just flip him over and get what he want, he still stays on the bottom.

🎵I know it's really bad, bad, bad, bad, bad

Messin' with my head, head, head, head, head

We drive each other mad, mad, mad, mad, mad

But baby, that's what makes us good in bed🎵

F/N figured Bendy has had enough and plunged down on top of him, riding him at a slow pace. All the while the ink demon's moans and groans of pleasure giving F/N the drive to bounce faster on his girth. Bendy's moans only get louder and louder, being the bottom he is he tries to get more by thrusting up, but F/N comes off and says "If you want this, then you'll have to obide by my rules Bendy."

🎵Please

Come take it out on me, me, me, me, me

I know it's really bad, bad, bad, bad

But baby, that's what makes us good in bed

It's bad

We drive each other mad

It might be kinda sad

But I think that's what makes us good in bed🎵

He dropped down onto the demon again and rode him at a faster pace, knowing Bendy will cum soon and so will he, so he picks up the tempo of his bouncing to near the edge faster.

🎵I dedicate this verse to

All that good pipe in the moonlight

And the long nights where we did everything but talk it through

That's what we do, yeah

You always let me down, boy

But when you're going down I get so up

Don't know if I could find someone who do me like you do🎵

F/N brought Bendy into one last passionate kiss as he felt his shaft twitch inside of him. He felt up and down his curves and let out the last moan as Bendy shot his seed up inside of Y/N. Both panting, and out of breath from the steamy sex session the both of them just had.

🎵I've been thinkin' it'd be better

If we didn't know each other

Then you go and make me feel okay

Got me thinkin' it'd be better

If we didn't stay together

Then you put your hands up on my waist

I know it's really bad, bad, bad, bad, bad

Messin' with my head, head, head, head, head

We drive each other mad, mad, mad, mad, mad

But baby, that's what makes us good in bed

Please

Come take it out on me, me, me, me, me

I know it's really bad, bad, bad, bad

But baby, that's what makes us good in bed🎵

F/N got off of the demon and helped him up and soon began to put his clothes back on. "That was great, thank you baby" he gave the demon a kiss on the cheek and went back to lay down on the bed

🎵It's bad

We drive each other mad

It might be kinda sad

But I think that's what makes us good in bed

It's bad

We drive each other mad

It might be kinda sad

But I think that's what makes us good in bed

Yeah, we don't know how to talk

(Mm)

But damn, we know how to fuck🎵

The tall demon followed suit to his lover in the bed, tired and drenched in sweat and ink. It was a sight that Bendy loved to see. He got into the bed and wrapped his lanky arms around F/N's waist and dropped his head onto his shoulder. Purring and satisfied, Bendy got to sleep easily that night, no nightmares of Joey, no flashbacks of when he was first created, none of that. He was happy and content right here.

🎵I know it's really bad, bad, bad, bad, bad

Messin' with my head, head, head, head, head

We drive each other mad, mad, mad, mad, mad

But baby, that's what makes us good in bed

Please

Come take it out on me, me, me, me, me

I know it's really bad, bad, bad, bad

But baby, that's what makes us good in bed

It's bad

We drive each other mad

It might be kinda sad

But I think that's what makes us good in bed

It's bad

We drive each other mad

It might be kinda sad

But I think that's what makes us good in bed🎵

(Posting all my other oneshots and whatnot will take a bit so be patient please! Also if your the original person who requested this let me know so I can tag you! I couldn't tag you bc you changed your name :)

[slvtiny]

Welcome to Wonderland, My dear dreamer

Hi,

I am Jae, your personal Jinn.

In this household, we do not judge, discriminate, nor disrespect.

All you wish for can come alive, even if it's the way a song, a picture, or a thought makes you feel. Even if you can't make words out of it, as long as you tell me how you'd sound in your dreams.

I can make the world a wonderland for you.

▪︎♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧▪︎

♤ A little into detail, 'Who am I?' :

I'm Jade <Jae>

Age - 22 years old

DOB - 11th of June

Occupation - nil Currently in university

Major - Psychology, Neuroscience, Music<for funsies🙄🎀>

MBTI - INTP

Hobbies - music, dance, writing, reading (any form of art at this poin>_<), trekking, cooking, 🫣nerdy techy stuff you're probably not interested in(I usually just help out my tech maj bsf to finish their proj🤭), collecting sea shells and other stupid stuff I do on a daily🦖✨️

▪︎♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧▪︎

♤ Artists I stan :

ATEEZ

XIKERS NCT TxT TBZ SKZ THE ROSE

KARD SF9 MAMAMOO TWICE

RED VELVET PENTAGON ONEWE CIX

KIM WOO SEOK SEVENTEEN MONSTA X

iKON WOODZ P1HARMONY LEE HI

ONLYONEOFF MADDOX BewhY GEMINI

ONEUS DPR IAN DPR LIVE

DPR CREAM B.I LEO æspa AMBER LIU

Coogie SOGUMM DeVita PUNCHNELLO

CODE KUNST WOO WONJAE HOODY

UGLY DUCK LOCO GRAY GOT7 CRUSH

BIGBANG BTOB DAY6 ERIC NAM

HANNAH BAHNG ITZY JESSI WINNER

HYO BLOCKB SIMON D ZICO KID MILLI

NO:EL HAON MELOH SEORI LUCAS...

<there's probably more I just can't recall lol>

<my list is literally Hongjoong’s nightmare 🦖>

NOTE:

You can talk to me about these artists, recommend songs, recommend other artists, I may write for them only on very sweet requests, and I will not write smut for them unless I already do. Please check the list of artists I write for👇 before requesting.

♤ ARTISTS I WRITE FOR :

ATEEZ MADDOX MAMAMOO TBZ

GEMINI B.I AMBER LIU

NCT (I don't writ for Wish they CHILD), (though Shota, and Sungie are Riize now, I might write for them, same goes for Lucas)

▪︎♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧●♧▪︎

<under maintenance will be updated soon >

♤ IMPORTANT LINKS :

RULES

PERMANENT TAGGLIST

ABOUT REQUESTS

INDEX

PLAYLISTS

FIC RECS

HELP ME WRITE??

▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•♡▪︎♤•

Ps.

Lmk if the link don't work

[enchantingjacarandas]

Ice Skating

Pairing: Lee Know | Minho / Seungmin

Tags: Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Jealousy, Not K-pop Idols, Arguing, Ice Skating

Other Sites to Read on: Ao3 or Wattpad

Word Count: 1,404

A/N: This was my first fanfic that I ever wrote. Of course I re-edited it before posting, but I thought I would start my Tumblr fanfic journey the same way I as I did, when I first started. Hopefully you'll enjoy!! <3

“Ughh I’m so bored,” Seungmin spoke exasperated. To cure his boredom he decided instead of talking to himself he should try to figure out where his boyfriend was. Searching around the house he finally found Minho sitting in front of the TV watching anime. More specifically, he was watching Yuri on Ice. Then an idea popped into Seungmin's head. 

“We should try that,” he stated, pointing at the television.

“Getting rings together?” Minho was thoroughly confused. Seungmin simply rolled his eyes, his boyfriend always made it so hard to not smack him upside the head.

“No, I mean we should try ice skating, it’s been a while since we did something new for date night.” After he didn’t hear an immediate response he added, “It could be fun.”

“You wanna ice skate?” Minho looked him up and down. His boyfriend was cute yet so naive. 

Seungmin gave an oblivious nod, “I heard there’s one at the mall”.

Minho chuckled saying, “Alright”.

“Come on, this was your idea.” Minho said while watching his boyfriend starting to fall once again. Minho quickly went to his side to save him from getting hurt.

“I know what I said, I just didn’t expect it to be this hard!” Seungmin pouted looking into his hyung's eyes for comfort. Having seen his boyfriend being so sulky made it hard for Minho not to carry him bridal style away from everyone else. To somewhere more private, just the two of them. Minho had almost gotten completely consumed by his daydream, when the sight of Seungmin’s eyes sparkling from the fairy lights around the ice rink started to slowly pull him back to reality. However, on Seungmin’s side of things it seemed that his boyfriend lacked any empathy so he pushed Minho away.

“I know what I said, I just didn’t expect it to be this hard!” Seungmin pouted looking into his hyung's eyes for comfort. Having seen his boyfriend being so sulky made it hard for Minho not to carry him bridal style away from everyone else. To somewhere more private, just the two of them. Minho had almost gotten completely consumed by his daydream, when the sight of Seungmin’s eyes sparkling from the fairy lights around the ice rink started to slowly pull him back to reality. However, on Seungmin’s side of things it seemed that his boyfriend lacked any empathy so he pushed Minho away.

“I’ll figure it out myself. Just keep going around, showing off to everyone!” Seungmin was done with his boyfriend being so perfect at everything meanwhile he looked like an idiot falling down so much. Minho rolled his eyes at Seungim’s statement.

“Are you sure?” Minho leaned in closer, “you know, it’s safer to have me close so you won’t get hurt”. He hoped putting the moves on Seungmin would make him rethink his words.

“What do you know about getting hurt, just go already!” Seungmin was tired of the lecture coming from Minho, and just wanted to be alone to prove him wrong. Minho, not wanting to start a fight in public, decided it was for the best that he just skate somewhere else before his boyfriend would explode at him. He was still ready to tell Seungmin I told you so when he would inevitably fall again.

Seungmin, now that he was alone on the ice, was quickly regretting his words. “Why did I have to push him away? Now I look even more stupid not knowing how to skate all by myself.” He thought. He decided to head towards the wall of the rink so he could have at least some stability to try to improve his skill. Yet, the attempt almost ended with disaster when his skates betrayed him, they started to move faster than his body. He closed his eyes and was prepared to fall flat on the ground, yet he hadn’t hit the ice rink’s floor. 

Feeling arms around him he expected it to be his boyfriend, but was stunned when it was a man he’d never meant before was holding him. Seungmin quickly tried to get up and move away from the stranger, but that only seemed to make things worse. He started to lean away, but his head was heading for the ground once again. The stranger moved to Seungmin’s side to support him, seeing as maybe he had gotten too close for Seungmin’s comfort the first time around.

“Hey, let’s get you to the wall,” said the stranger.

“Ah thanks, I was trying to get here,” Seungmin explained once they had reached the wall. Seungmin decided to take in the ice skating rink’s serene scenery. The moment passed when he saw a pissed off Minho skating towards them. “Uh, you should probably go before my boyfriend gets here.” Seungmin awkwardly laughed, although he was pretty scared of pissed off Minho.

“Oh,” there was disappointment on the stranger’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, but like I said.” Seungmin gestured for him to leave, however the stranger was too slow. Minho quickly put his arm around Seungmin looking that stranger up and down, as if sizing him up.

“Hello, I’m his boyfriend, and you are?” 

“I am… I was just leaving,” the stranger was clearly intimidated by Minho.

“Good.” Minho smiled as the stranger skated away. Then he turned to his boyfriend for an explanation. 

“Listen, it wasn’t like that,” Seungmin sighed and turned his head. “I really did wanna skate on my own, it's only because I couldn’t make it to the ice rink’s wall before slipping. I tried to get away from him…” he trailed off, not really sure what the right answer was.

“You still want to learn to skate on your own?'' Minho furrowed his brows. He let out a sigh and skated away once again before even hearing Seungmin’s answer. 

“No wait!” Seungmin tried to skate after him, but forgot he couldn’t skate and landed right on his butt, maybe even tailbone. He was hurt in more ways than one, he simply put his head down fearing the laughs of others at the ice rink. Just when tears threatened to fall, he saw a hand. A smile brightened his face because his boyfriend didn’t leave him behind. Seungmin took the hand and held tight as his boyfriend pulled him off the rink. Minho found a bench and led Seungmin to sit down, deciding he would untie his boyfriend’s skates.

“Ah!” Seungmin’s butt still hurt from the fall, when tried to sit down he felt a sharp sting. However he would bear the pain because Minho was being kind by taking off his skates for him.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Minho asked.

“Sorta, I’m sure it’s not too bad though.” Seungmin assured his significant other.

“Okay, let’s head home. I think that’s enough of an adventurous date for today,” Minho said. Seungmin thought he was right, for they weren’t exactly getting along before his fall, plus they only had about 10 minutes left on the rental skates.

While Minho returned the skates Seungmin wandered around window shopping while staying within sight of his boyfriend. 

“Do you have any ice packs for injuries, or know where I can get one?” Minho questioned.

“Oh, I think we have something around here, let me check real quick” The clerk then went towards the back of the shop. They soon came back with some ice in a plastic bag, “here you go sir”.

“Thank you!” Minho replied to the clerk as he took the bag from them. Turning around he hastily walked towards Seungmin, swiftly placing the ice on his butt.

“What the-” Seungmin looked down, upon seeing what Minho was doing, he started turning red in the cheeks. “Minho, this is embarrassing.” He pulled Minho to the side out of the shop’s window area and behind a pillar so most people couldn’t see them. 

“Good, then next time don’t push me away and this won’t happen.” Minho smiled mischievously at his partner, still holding the ice pack on his butt.

“Yuck!” Seungmin couldn’t help but to fake gag at the cheesy line. “Come here.” He then leaned in and gave Minho a quick peck on the lips. Glad they were in a somewhat secluded area. Even if Minho said the cheesiest line, Seungmin would always kiss him after.

“But seriously, can we not ice my butt while in the mall?” Seungmin pouted.

“Is that why you kissed me?” Minho considered Seungmin’s question and then replied, “I’m still making you ice it in the car though”.

“Deal.” Seungmin then leaned in for another kiss while Minho eagerly reciprocated. They quickly put their arms around one another. Seungmin attempted to advance the kiss more, when he tried to slip his tongue into the other’s mouth. However, Minho had to stop them, so they wouldn’t get too heated in a public area. After breaking their kiss the next thing Minho did was grab Seungmin’s hand, heading for their car. He couldn’t wait for it to just be the two of them.

➤ Masterlist ❀ Ao3 ❀ Wattpad

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! <3 This is my first time posting on tumblr and I'm fairly new to the site so, if you have any tips or helpful advice it would be much appreciated. Also if I managed to mess something up please inform me on how I can correct it. I appreciate you taking time out of your day to make it this far. Make sure to stay safe and healthy!!

[sku11s1asher]

Kinktober Day 1: Edging

lyney x top male reader

notes: guess who’s doing kinktober?? me!! pretend i posted this earlier since i couldn’t find a list until last sec, oops. ignore the fact that this is short and totatllyyy not rushed.. i don’t even know the characters i wanna do so PLEASE DM OR SPAM MY INBOX WITH CHARACTERS YOU WANNA SEE!! if a day doesn’t get posted on time, i promise ill post it eventually trust

cw: edging (obv), one slap on his thigh, sharp ass nails, crying, im a sucker for lyney sorry guys

It must be a wonderful feeling to have Lyney, the great magician of Fontaine, the future successor to Arlechino, right under your fingertips, literally. Such a strong man, reduced to a whimpering and begging mess, all because of a little touching. He looked so beautiful though, his makeup ruined, back arched, cock leaking, body on full display, just for you.

A needy whine left his lips, “Please, I- I can’t!” Your eyes flickered up, tilting your head at him, “You can’t what? Use your big boy words, baby.” He could barely open his eyes to look at you, everything was too much. His arm went over his face when your hand slowly started moving again, it took everything in him to not buck his hips. He needed to cum so badly, why are you being such an asshole?

You leaned down to kiss his stomach before taking your hand off his cock. You’ve only been edging him for 15 minutes, it’s pathetic how quickly he became a mess. After staring at him for a few moments longer, you finally grabbed the lube, opening it, and pouring it over his dick, watching as it slowly dripped down towards his hole.

—

Maybe it was too much, he was squeezing around your fingers so tightly, thighs squeezing around you. Every sound that came from his mouth was almost laughable, barely audible words, moans, and whimpers. It’s like you took away his tongue.

“Calm down,” you said to him, your free hand giving his thigh a light slap. Your finger kept rubbing against his prostate, sometimes purposely missing it. “How can I calm down?” He hissed out, eyes starting to fill with tears. All you could do was let out a chuckle, no matter how angry he pretended to be, his body always betrayed him.

Once you finally decided to stick another finger inside of him, a fat glob of pre cum dripped from his tip. You could tell that he was trying his hardest to not cum, the way his breathing started to increase, how his face slightly changed, the slight grind against your fingers. Of course, you paused your movements, just long enough for him to lose the high before you started to get him open.

—

“Fuck,” as soon as you were even an inch inside of him, he was trying to pull all of you inside. “Lyney,” your voice warned, the grip on his waist tightening. All you got in response was a loud moan and nails going deeper into your back. When you, finally, got inside of him, it felt like heaven. Hell, it sounded like heaven.

“You wanna cum?” You asked into his ear, head falling into his neck, biting it as you thrust. “Yes, yes, please!” He begged, one of his hands going on your head, pulling you closer. Though, his other hand tried going to his dick, which didn’t slide with you. As soon as you felt his hand go between your stomachs, you stopped moving altogether.

“No, no, no, ‘m sorry-“ he quickly pleaded, you could feel his tears, what a baby. “If try to you touch yourself, I’ll stop again,” You warned, slowly going back to thrusting into him. He didn’t even last a minute, hole immediately squeezing you tighter, nails scratching your back, finally coming. You didn’t stop for a second, trying to reach your own high as he continued to moan like a cheap whore.

[iamnotthenewwriter]

Sirius Black is just average height

Remus Lupin is really tall

Sirius Black is slim

Remus Lupin is muscular

Sirius Black has delicate features

Remus Lupin has strong features

Sirius Black wears clothes that make him look bigger

Remus Lupin wears clothes that make him look softer

[mini-asteroid]

Alberu Crossman didn’t know when it started, nor did he ever bother to figure it out.

All he knew was that, one day, his entire world changed.

His once bleak reality suddenly exploded with thousands of colors at once, blinding his eyes from the sheer beauty of it all. The sky was suddenly so much more blue than he last remembered, and the sun beamed down like a ray of hope, washing away the inky black haze that obscured his vision.

In the midst of it all had stood one person.

(note: old names were used on this fic)

[haejaetae-recs]

It's been raining a lot where I am. Where's my 00 line + Mark??? /hj

rainy day (m.)

pairing: 00 line + mark x female reader

genre: filthy, dirty, shameless smut, some mxm, literally a sixsome, idk what else you expect from me at this point

words: 4.5k

The rain pelting against the window only serves as more of an excuse for you to press yourself closer to Jaemin. He winds his arm around your waist and drags you closer to him on the sofa, smiling softly when you throw your leg over his and rest your head on his shoulder. Jeno whines and presses himself closer to you in turn, complaining about being left out. You lean into the touch and hum softly.

Keep reading

[wyrmst]

(Harpy + XVIII The Moon)

Trans M Harpy x M Reader

Wordcount: 2907

Content Warnings: Magical Disguise, Brief Description of Death, Public Sex, Cloacal Sex (Reader Tops)

I’m doing a little self-inflicted challenge using the monstertober prompt here. But also with tarot card pulls for additional RNG! 

I’m not going to call this monstertober though, because there’s no way in hell I’m finishing all of these in October- knowing me, they're probably going to stretch out a few months. So, not sure what to call it: Autumnal monster one-shots? The name ultimately doesn’t matter.

The moon is full overhead, casting a dull, pale glow over everything.

The tall cedars and pines of the forest loom over you as far as your vision can go in the darkness, no familiar safety of guard towers anywhere in sight.

The sound of baying hounds has finally grown so distant that you feel like you can rest momentarily.

At least you and your fellow guard Kira managed to escape from the conflict relatively unharmed.

You still can't risk a fire, lest you be spotted by any pursuing bandits.

Kira sits perched on a nearby tall stone with the map, sitting in that peculiar way he favors; heel of his boots tucked to his ass. He doesn't seem to be looking at the map though, instead scanning the tree line. You’ve removed your armor, working to bandage the various scrapes you received from the scuffle with bandits on the toll road and the following sudden retreat through the undergrowth.

The adrenaline has finally begun to wear off, leaving you to sit and contemplate your failure.

The caravan you were escorting was attacked, that much is clear. But an ambush on the caravan? …Why?

There wasn’t anything particularly valuable in the caravan, past the everyday possessions of a nobleman. This toll road isn't even known for a high amount of bandit activity- It's why your employer chose to use it.

You grimace, growing tired of trying to sort out the reasons. Instead, your attention is drawn to your partner.

He looks the same as he always does: A slight, handsome male numan, with angular features, silky black hair with a near violet sheen depending on the light, cold pale skin and deeply curious, sharp grey eyes.

You’ve been in what could be called a romantic entanglement since shortly after he was hired on by your employer. You were tasked with training him as the senior guard on staff, though he didn’t need much training at all. Being paired together for guard shifts with someone you found blisteringly attractive only made the inevitable outcome happen sooner. While you’ve enjoyed the trysts, you’ve tried to keep them from interfering with doing your job.

He’s usually cool and collected under the pressure, even when things have gone wrong. But there’s some silent panic happening here, something shifty and out of character with what you’ve come to know.

But something isn't sitting right. Something… is off with him. Different.

You squint at him, getting to your feet with a grunt. 

"...You're hiding something. I can tell."

"No, I'm not." He blatantly denies, dismissive and matter of fact. But you can hear it in his voice, and see it in the hunched way he’s sitting, trying to make himself look smaller. That, and he's been avoiding looking you in the eye since this whole doomed journey began.

You approach the rock he’s perched on, worried he’s concealing an injury from you; he shrinks back, so subtly you almost don’t notice it.

"Hey-" You grasp his face between your hands for emphasis, turning his gaze on you. Perhaps a bit too intimate for the moment, but it's been far too long, nearly a week since you could feel his skin under your fingers, so you indulge yourself. It's been nearly impossible to wedge in any alone time on the road to do so."Talk to me."

You're considering pressing your lips to his for the much needed comfort, when you stop short. The movement causes the hood of his cloak to slide back, just enough to reveal tiny blue-black feathers that have sprouted on the bridge between his eyes, and at the edges of his cheeks.

"...Feathers…?"

"L-Let go-" He brushes you off, turning his face away and drawing his hood back up. "Why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the time? You make everything ten times harder-"

"Don't change the subject!" You sputter, stepping back but not dropping it.  "Feathers! What's happened to your fa-"

In backing away, you’ve given yourself room to see him clearly as a whole, and things seem to change right in front of your eyes.

Wide, shiny black wings hang down from his arms, nearly covering him, like a blanket draped from his shoulders.

Swathes of smaller feathers pepper his face, as well as chunkier feathers dispersed to form ear-like points, and a soft looking crest of plumage peeking out over his collar.

Ill fitting boots fall off and hit the ground with a hollow thunk. They're followed by the padded leggings more suited for less rounded, unfeathered thighs. He's left with just his long hooded tunic, looking almost comfortable.

The rock he’s sitting on certainly looks more like a perch now, between his wings and large scaled avian feet, each tipped with a glossy, blade-like talon.

“Huh.” You can only manage a surprised grunt, forgetting what you were even going to say- too busy taking in the new details of his appearance. Or at least- new to you.

“Glamour.” He laughs mirthlessly and pulls his hood all the way down in defeat. "Racist old fart only ever hired numen on."

"You're involved in this? But the others-" You conclude. Your fists clench, as does your jaw.

"The others aren't coming." He says, pointing a taloned finger towards the darkness of the woods. "And if they're smart, they ran instead of trying to fight. But that's on them."

"But… why?"

"Doesn't matter why, does it?" Kira sighs, shoulders falling as he seems to fully accept that he's been caught. "Someone’s why was big enough they paid a lot of gold for him to be dead. And so, now he's dead."

"I can't believe this-" You glare at him. The residual guilt from failing in your duties morphing into indignance of being lied to by someone you trusted. "You lied to me?"

Your hand instinctively reaches for the hilt of your sword hanging from your belt for some feeling of security, but you only feel empty space- you’ve left it back in its scabbard, where you were sitting on the rocks.

"I did. So, is this where you valiantly avenge your dead employer in the name of loyalty?” There’s the sound of feathers rustling over fabric and claw scraping against stone, just barely there. 

You simply stand there, nostrils flaring and teeth bared, ready to scrap for your life at the hint of violent intent.

“…I don't want to have to hurt you, love, but I'm not dying tonight- and we both know I'm the faster draw."

You don't need to have a clear view to know his hand is already on the hilt of a concealed blade somewhere on his person as he speaks. You've worked and lived and done other things with him long enough now to know.

Everything else- you should've known. Even appearing as a numan, everything about his movement, his way of handling weapons, even his mannerisms at times- screamed criminal. Concealment. Trickery. Deceit.

But you're not one to judge someone on their past, especially not when they're looking for honest work.

"...My loyalty to my employer only persists if he's still alive to pay my wages." You shake your head, recalling from the blurry memory of the tumult the sight of the old man getting a bolt to his neck and toppling from the gilded carriage. "That’s the risk you take hiring mercenaries as your personal guard… He was a sour old bastard, anyway."

The tightly wound tension, thick enough to cut with a knife, evaporates with your acknowledgement.

"And here I thought you just enjoyed playing the hero." His voice is already lighter, back to his normal, jovial tone, devoid now of the cold edge of necessity.

"I enjoy a job well done! That doesn't make me some paragon of virtue!"

"That's exactly something a paragon of virtue would say." He quips, feather bristling as he laughs his decidedly caw-like laugh at his own joke. You wonder how you never noticed that about Kira’s voice before, or if the magic downplayed that too.

You simply groan in response.

"I'll tell you one thing, I'm never buying from that miserable old hag over by the lake again." He spits on the ground in front of him in scorn. "Damned glamour didn't even last half as long as she claimed it would."

You can't hold back the laughter. The absurdity of the situation is too much, and you finally crack. 

“I thought you were taking this a bit too well…” Kira mutters to himself.

You slide a calloused palm down your face, silencing yourself. 

“I take it then,” You feel so foolish, that despite the calamity you just experienced, the idea of him faking his interest in you is what is truly bothering you about the situation. “That all of this was an act?” 

"No! ‘Seduce handsome guard’ was not on the agenda." You feel him risk reaching out for you, the first time since the facade dropped. The familiar feeling of his hand on your forearm is comforting, but the addition of a claw scraping lightly across your skin is surprising. …Though not entirely unwelcome. “That part sort of… fell into place all on its own.”

“Right.” You continue looking at him, trying to discern if this too is a lie.

“You don’t believe me. I don’t blame you.” Kira says, mimicking hurt. Or maybe it’s sincere…?

"Why lead me out here then, if you knew? Distraction?” 

"I wasn't about to let you die pointlessly in a little caravan scuffle. So, I was just… making sure you got out of the woods okay."

"You could've let me know ahead of time." You grumble.

"Ah yes, because that would've gone over flawlessly!"

You let out a resigned huff. You don't like this- but there's not much you can do about it now.

"Maybe I can make it up to you?" He says, voice suddenly suggestive and almost melodic. "For playing along so nicely."

You know that tone very well. Your body stirs on its own in response, without regard to your higher faculties.

A little subterfuge and a few feathers aren’t enough to eradicate your care for him, it seems. 

Before you can think to object, he's hiked the hem of his tunic up, showing off the soft slope of the upper portion of his raised and spread avian legs. His taloned fingers part the plumage of short feathers between his legs, showing you the pinkish hole underneath, his tail feathers spread out against the rock below.

That’s new. 

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious…

"Well?"

You peel your eyes away and glance around pointedly with raised brow, not having to say out loud that you're out in the middle of the woods right now- and while you’re no stranger to making do in the wilderness when the need strikes, you have recently fled from an ambush within the last few hours.

“I told you, no one’s coming. It’ll be fine.” The hand on your forearm migrates to claw at the front of your tunic, encouraging you closer with a smirk on his face. “...No one else, at least.”

You can't resist anymore, one hand moving to hold him around the waist. 

“There you are,” Kira coos in approval at the weight of your touch on the bunched fabric at his waist, taking your face in his hands to kiss you on the lips, then press a few in a trail down your neck. “You’ll have to make this angle work for you, I’m afraid. I'm not in the mood to roll about in the dirt tonight."

He reclines slightly, bracing himself against the surface of the rock and balancing himself, making it look easy.

Wasting no time, you bring your other hand up and probe two of your fingers experimentally into the opening. It's soft and warm as usual, but it’s already fully slicked and the way its ribbed edges are pulling at your fingers, like it’s trying to drag them inside, is a foreign sensation. You thought two fingers might be too much to start with, but you’re starting to think your whole hand could easily be swallowed up whole at this point with how deeply they’re sinking in, lost to the ribbed interior.

Your mind tries to make sense of the newness- you know you’ve been acquainted with this part of him before, because there are some things even glamoury can’t change, but the experience of it being different and yet so familiar is making your head spin.

It was a bit suspect that he always seemed to be lubed before you got down to business, despite how unlikely the scenario. It’s partly your reasoning behind thinking he was out to seduce you, but now you’re realizing that he was just telling the truth about genuinely finding you attractive the whole time- at least if the slippery fluid coating your fingers now is any indication.

“Aaah,” His bird-like feet clench in the air at your sides, grasping at nothing. He winces as he watches down his torso, half-lidded eyes focused on your hand working inside him. “Nnh-”

You thought you liked the sounds you could draw out of him before, but now they’re downright enchanting.

It doesn’t take much exploring before you’re burning up with lust under your clothes, unable to hold back any longer.

You wrap your hand around his thin scaled ankle, making enough room for yourself between his legs. Then you close the distance until your boot tips are nearly flush to the face of the stone, hastily rustling yourself just barely free between your breeches and your tunic, already painfully worked up and ready to go. 

After a bit of somewhat blind searching, you manage to press your cock inside, his cloaca relatively in the same location that it’d be if he were still in numan form. The sweet crush of his vent is even better wrapped around your dick than on your fingers, to little surprise. Downy feather edges tickle the damp surface of the sensitive, just barely exposed skin on your pelvis.

Once you’re sure you’ve gotten where you need to be, you grip the other side of his waist as well. Your instincts kick in and you’re out the gate, already thrusting into the heat like your life depends on it.

Even the slightly unconventional staging isn’t enough to keep you from your goal. You’re well enough acquainted with what your partner needs to only need some minor adjustments to quickly find a familiar, if a bit harried, rhythm.

“Fucking hell,” You emphatically hiss through clenched teeth, over the wet, slightly muffled sounds of wet flesh and rustling feathers. “Does that feel good.”

“Glad it’s good for something- Nngh-” 

You continue to rut into him like a wild beast, grunting and chasing down the growing tightness in your loins. 

You want to hit every part you can reach, touch every part of him there is to touch, hammer out a permanent space for yourself.

It may be a change from what kind of hole you’re used to fucking, but you couldn’t care less at this point. The difference is inconsequential.

It’s still him.

Kira’s legs wrap around you like a set of arms embracing you, crossing over your lower back, holding you closer as he grinds back against your thrusts. His oversized talons dig into your flesh through the fabric like human fingers demanding more. The harder and faster you thrust, the closer you get to having the skin on your lumbar rended to shreds through your tunic, but you're too enamored to care.

He goes to cover his mouth with his feathered arm as his body starts to shudder, but you intercept with your own, pinning his wrist to the rock at his side. 

If you went through all this trouble tonight- and find out the lover you’ve been fucking this whole time is a bird- you’re at least going to get to hear him sing.

“Uungh-” Kira lets out an interrupted noise in surprised approval, mouth agape in a pleased rictus. His vocalizations hit their highest, quivering pitch just as his vent constricts around your cock in the hardest squeeze. “Aah-Aaaah-”

His spine bends in an elegant arc and his sharp talons dig into your knuckles as their hand grips into yours where you have him caught. As his strangle hold on you lets up, a new wave of slickness coats you, making it hard to keep yourself together.

You’re dead on your feet by the time you unload inside of him, running only on pleasure and leftover vestiges of adrenaline. You unwind, senses overloaded and your thinking thoroughly dulled. All you are sure of before you sleep is that you managed to satisfy; both him and yourself.

In the morning, you wake to sunlight filtering through the trees above, flat on your back on a relatively evenly-faced slab of rock.

"What am I going to do now?" You wonder aloud and grind one of your palms on your grimy face. "I'm out a job and a place to live…"

Even if you go back now, your reputation is ruined. You won't be able to find work, and there will certainly be questions…

Pointed tips of clawed fingers brush through your hair from behind you, raising gooseflesh on the back of your arms.

"Well, as luck would have it, I know someone who's hiring."

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> 🃏TAROT SHORTS

[paintedcow96]

Heyyy here's a clip from the newest one shot <3

Benji and Kai car sex

~~~BENJI'S P.O.V~~~

Kai is making me sit in the back seat still because of the whole fathers day thing. He still thinks I haven't learned my lesson.

"Daddy please just let me sit in the front!" I complain as he buckles me into my seat

"I told you Benji your going to be punished until you've learned your lesson and everytime I ask you, you say you haven't! "

I don't like it when he calls me by my name.. He only calls me Benji when I'm in trouble.

"So have you learned your lesson? " he asks again.

"no.. "

"That's what I thought, now stop complaining"

"Okay daddy"

...

Kai pulls into the back of the club. We like to park behind the building rather than in front especially when it's a nice night.

"Daddyyyy? " I ask as he's unbuckling me.

"Yes baby boy? " he says looking at me as I turn in the car so my legs are dangling out the side.

"I feel empty.. " I say grabbing onto his shoulders.

"In what way? " he questions. He knows I mean, I want to fuck.

"You know what I mean daddy.. " I say trailing my hand down his chest to squeeze his pec. He's a very muscular guy, his body is so nice I love it.

I pull him into the car and scoot back so I'm leaning up against the other door.

"B-baby we really sho-"

"Shh" I say my lips meeting his...

Read RAINBOW ROPES ONE SHOTS by PaintedCow on ao3 & wattpad, find my accounts linked at the pinned post!