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cherry-pop-elf · 1 month

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Every Perfect Curve

George Weasley x Chubby Reader

You had given birth to your sweet little Freddy a while ago. While finally having a moment to yourself, you can’t help but feel self conscious that you haven’t ’bounced back’ like so many others have. George is there to remind you that you are just stunning. Even if you never ‘bounce back’ as they say

Warnings: 16+, Body Dysphoria, Trans Masc coded but over all discussion of weight gain, flirting, sexual content ((no sex)) nursing, postpartum, After The Deathly Hallows Content, Pregnancy

Writing Coms Open

“This used to fit-!” You sniffled, as you were fighting with your body. Trying so hard to get your pants on. You haven’t worn pants since your second trimester. You wanted to wear pants again, but it doesn’t seem like that will happen. You couldn’t even get them past your thighs. It was so frustrating, how much weight you had gained.

“Jellybean, you just had a baby. You think Mum is built like a string bean like the kids she popped out?” George tried to explain, as he was undoing his suit jacket. So happy to have the work day done with, and finally spend some time with his family. You, little Freddy, and Bill with his own pregnant wife.

Since after the war, Bill figured to return back to Gringotts. Stable job, close to George, well paying, and those goblins actually gave him medically paid vacation leave for every time the week of the full moon was coming. It was perfect. Also, he won’t lie, was nice to have a part time job at WWW. Everything was perfect, besides well….The hormones.

“But she had seven kids! I just had one-!” You sniffled. Luckily, George was a fourth kid of seven. He knows a thing or two about someone with hormones. Especially ones with postpartum. Molly had caught some after Ron, funny enough. He knew not to poke the bear, too much.

Before he could stop you, you were already crying. “I’m so fat-! Look at my chest! Look at my thighs! I’m covered in stretch marks, and I can’t wear clothes right anymore! I’m bigger than a inflatus charm! How can you even stand the sight of me?!” You sobbed, as those hormones were just destroying your head space. He let you scream it out, having long since casted a silencing charm on your shared bedroom. Just letting you scream it out. Better out than in.

“Jellybean-“ He cooed, as he would leave himself in his dress shirt now. He would sneak behind you, and wrapped his arms around your stomach. Happily tracing over your stretch marks, and resting his head on yours. Just looking into the mirror, and seeing you struggle. Wet tears and all. He didn’t see what you saw. He saw someone he loved. Every inch of you was devine. Every stretch mark, roll, and sag. That was you.

“Jeans are uncomfortable anyway.” He tried to joke with you, as he scratched his finger on the rough denim. Going to make a disgusted face at the texture. Despite your tears, you couldn’t stop your smile. Damn him. He always found a way. You hated how he made you smile, as you now over thought. Were you crying for attention now? Were you making a big deal out of nothing? Luckily, your husband was quick to distract you from such scary thoughts.

“Come on. You like my pants anyway.” He added. Given how tall he was, the fabric was able to stretch around you easier. You didn’t even have a chance to argue, before he found a pair of his old pajama pants. You figured not to fight him, and soon sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled the jeans off, and helped you into the old soft fabric. Just pampering you. Kissing those newly soft features, and admiring you. Kissing that belly, that took care of your shared little boy. Admired those thighs, and appreciated those stretch marks from that hard working body.

“Much better?” He asked, as they were able to properly fit. Given the height, there was plenty of fabric over your stomach. Enough to even pull the plaid high enough to not drag on the ground. He even worked on making sure you had some nice warm socks, so you didn’t get chilly. Making sure you were as cared for as you deserved.

“Shut up.” You huffed, but he knew you were just frustrated with your body. He knew what that was like. Losing an ear sure makes life hell. If anyone can relate to hating your own body, it’s him. He would let you be frustrated, as he tried to make sure you were comfortable. Seems your top wouldn’t be next, as you two heard noises from the living room.

“ACK-! FLEUR HELP-!” Bill shouted, followed by the devious giggles of your son. Next were the sweet giggles of the Half Veela, as she was most likely working on saving her partial werewolf groom. The giggles of your son gave you a brief smile, but your eyes were on your body again.

“Hey, look at me-“ George would soon cup your face, so to make sure you stopped looking at yourself. “You have a body of a mother, a parent. All this squish was used to make sure our little boy was born happy and healthy.” He tried to reassure you, with a kiss to your lips. With his face with yours, he reached to his dress shirt. He took it off, and soon slipped it on you. He left it unbuttoned, so your sore breasts didn’t get more irritated. Yet still feel somewhat covered.

“And these-“ He gently touched said breasts, making sure to not irritated your sore nipples. “These are big because someone here eats like a Weasley. Playing with them more than me! That little bugger-“ And you laughed. He got you to laugh, and he was grinning with pride.

Speaking of hungry, a shrill cry was soon from the living room. “He eats like a Weasley alright-“ You sighed, but felt a bit more confident now. He was right. You were big because Freddy needed a lot of nutrients. Your breasts were large because he needed to eat a lot. Your body was built for your son to thrive. Being squishy wasn’t so bad. Right?

The both of you were quick to come to your living room, and soon seen Bill trying his best to distract Freddy from his hungry belly. Tickling him, and making little animal sounds. That seemed to entertain the little ginger, as he cooed. Fleur was even doing the same, as she sat with him. The wolf, and the harpy. Chirps and barks.

“His first words are going to be growls, knock it off-!” George would, playfully, say. That made them look over. Bill was quick to cover his eye, given the other one was blind, as to give you privacy. Despite the fact he had seen you nurse before. You still appreciated the gesture, regardless.

“Oh hush-“ Fleur tsked, before she would hoist herself up. Using the side of the couch for support, as so to make sure you had all the space on the couch to feed your son on. You wanted to tell her she didn’t have to, but she was in that Tri Wizard Tournament for a reason. She knows how to be strong.

“Come here, sweetie-“ You shushed, as Bill handed you your son. Those big eyes of his just glowing, and his chubby little fingers reaching for you. Your eyes, and George’s hair. Such a sweet thing. Seeing those chubby hands made you think about your chubby figure. Much like he will, you’ll out grow yours one day. If not? Well, least you know you’ll use it to make sure your son is taken care of. Because that soft body was soothing his upset stomach already. Just snuggled into your warm breasts.

“When will I get a turn?” George asked, as you smacked his shoulder. “Hey-!” He whined, as you rolled your eyes. You would soon be on the couch, and brought your legs up. Left to rest in your husbands lap, as Bill got you some pillows for your back. Your husband rubbing your feet, as you let Freddy nurse. Gentle with his fluffy ginger hair, and admiring him.

“Oh he is so handsome-“ Fleur cooed, as she watched. She was due any time now, as well. Having her watch you nurse was very useful for her. That also made you feel better. If you didn’t get so chubby, Fleur wouldn’t get to see what would happen with her. To see how much it helps with her soon to be child. Maybe being larger wasn’t as ugly as you thought. There was so much beauty in it. Beauty in using what you had to help others.

“Hungry thing.” Bill snorted, as his wife gently smacked his own arm. “If not for the hair, that appetite says Weasley all over it.” George echoed. You rolled your eyes, as your son kept nursing away. Needing to stuff his belly full. Was ages, but he finally was satisfied. With a cloth over your shoulder, you would gently burp him.

“He’s picking up signlaguge so quickly. Swear he will be better at it than me before he’s even two-!” George scoffed, but those eyes were sparkling. He was proud of his smart baby boy. “And soon French-“ Fleur echoed. “Arabic ain’t that bad-“ Bill tagged in. “And of course Romanian.” You vouched for Charlie. “Smart ass baby.” George snorted, before you kicked his thigh.

This moment was soothing. All just parents, together, with your children. Gentle learning for Fleur, and comfort. George was right. Your body was built for something. It was built to take care of your baby boy, and help Fleur learn how to treat her own baby. Being chubby wasn’t a sin. Just as much as being skinny and muscular had its benefits, so did being soft and squishy.

“There we go-“ You smiled, as he gave his little burp. “Much better, hm?” You smiled, as you would bring him to lay on your chest. Just like that, he was knocked out. Sleeping soundly, on your soft breasts. Listening to your heart beat, and able to take a well deserved nap.

“He got that from Fred. That was the only way we could tell you two apart. Whenever Fred was done feeding, he knocked right out. You? You got more energy, and got so excited you ended up throwing up.” Bill chuckled, as that seemed to comfort George. He missed his Fred, but knowing a part of him was still around made him smile. His hand ever so gentle on his son’s back, as he gently rubbed your own stomach. Admiring your stretch marks.

“This might be soon, but do you think-?” George questioned, as he kept tracing the indents in your skin. Another kid, already? You couldn’t blame him, though. He was a magical identical twin. The idea of growing up an only child sounded horrifying. Bro to mention big families is all he knew. Maybe…..

You looked to your sleeping son, and your own body. A smile crossed your lips, as you soon help George’s hand. “Plenty of nutrients for a round two, huh?” You joked. You were able to joke about your own body, and that cleared any worry George had. The two of you were financially fine, and had plenty of support.

He kissed your lips, before kissing your son’s head. A tiny little smile crossed those chubby little cheeks, and you had to wonder why you ever thought chubby cheeks could be so horrible. Your son had the prettiest cheeks around, and you hoped your next kid could have them all the same. Pretty, chubby, features.

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constawrites · 8 months

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How about trans!male reader x Corazón/Rosinante with a marking kink? Something romanticly cheesy?

Rosinante x Trans! Male reader

Cw: Smut, marking kink (Corazon), fingering, pre-established relationship, pet names, use of “Good boy” once, just some ‘soft’ smut with sweet Rosinante at the end.

A/N: First time doing a request, hope you like it! (Kinda short, srry -n-)

You were on Corazon’s lap, kissing him sloppily as his hands grazed your hips, gripping them tightly as you started rolling your hips against his bulge. Corazon took notice of this and pulled away for a second, looking at you slightly serious before it turned to a more loving expression.

“Are you sure of this?”

He asked, worried to do something that could make you uncomfortable. Rosinante knew nudity in front of someone else was something delicate for most of trans people, but you just nodded, kissing his cheek before nibbling at his ear. “I’m ready, love.”

“Fine, but tell me if i do something too soon.”

He kissed you back passionately; your tongue meeting his and fighting for control as your hands directed to his shirt, started to unbutton it and throw it down his shoulders as a heat pooled down in your throbbing cunt

He got up from his chair, holding you tightly by your ass as he placed you on the desk of his office, starting to take off your pants —panties included— the cold breeze that went down your core made your mouth drop a muffled moan as you bit your bottom lip.

“Corazon..” Those were the only words your mouth could formule as the thick fingers of the man on top of you grazed your slit so deliciously, smearing the arousal all over your cunt and clit.

He leaned over you, his body weight now pressing a little bit over you as you panted for the friction of his fingers.

Corazon leaned more as with one hand he got rid of the first buttons of your shirt, starting to nibble the sensible skin of your collarbone, sucking hardly at it, leaving pretty love marks in purple and red colors. You muffled your moans miserably with the back of your hand; Corazon started rubbing your clit with his thumb as the thick fingers of his stretched your lower lips, entering into your sex and pumping in and out. “That’s it, like that. Good boy.” He reassured sweetly on your ear making goosebumps on your skin.

While then Cora kept his job on your neck, biting, nibbling, sucking at whatever skin he could get. A small sense of possession ran over him as he witnessed the marks he made in your skin. “Fuck, you look so fucking hot with these.”

Your walls started to clench around his fingers as you chased your high with every pump in and curl he did.

“C-Cora! I’m about to cum..— Oh fuck!”

You arched your back at the heat pooling on your stomach. “Let it out, babe. Come in my fingers.” He whispered, his little smirk pressed down on your chest as new marks were deposited on your pecs, tracing sweet kisses on the scarred skin from your top surgery.

A few more pumps into your wet cunt and you came all over his fingers, your glistening arousal going from the tip to his knuckles as he pulled them out.

You breathed heavily, still pressed down on his desk by the body of your huge boyfriend who kissed your cheeks so sweetly as his clean hand went to caress your hair. “Like that, my love..You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever had the opportunity to meet. I love you so much.” He whispered sweet nothings on your ear as your breath started to get softer and more quiet.

He lifted your sleepy and sweaty body bride-style and walked to the sofa on a side of his office, covering you with his fluffy feathered coat. He kneeled and kissed your cheek once more, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you, ____. Remember it every day.” And with a small peck on the lips he left you on his couch to rest.

#rosinante smut #one piece #male reader #op x reader #op #one piece rosinante #rosinante corazon #donquixote rosinante #rosinante x reader #request #one piece smut #op rosinante #donquixote rosinate x reader #donquixote family

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preggomancer · 1 year

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Tulip holds up another hanger, waving it at her boyfriend, and he raises a brow.

“Once again, I feel that you have fundamentally misunderstood the purpose of this trip,” Alan monotones.

Tulip giggles, looking at the frilly pink top she’s pulled from the clothing rack. “Sorry, sorry. I just think it’s cute!”

Rolling his eyes, Alan goes back to leafing through the sales rack. His mission in coming here–and to the five other stores they’ve slogged through already today–is failing miserably. At five months pregnant, he’s already outgrown much of his wardrobe, and it won’t be long before he’s left with nothing but a few extra-stretchy shirts and maybe some pajama pants. So here he is, trying to achieve the apparently monumental task of finding clothes that will both fit him and not make him feel like shit.

The problem is, of course, Alan’s a guy. A trans guy who started T just a couple months before getting pregnant and having his entire life trajectory thrown off the rails. He’ll be fine–he knows he’ll be fine. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can manage college as a single dad, it’s him. What he can’t handle, right now, is being pregnant. He knows he’s never really passed. Puberty left him with unwanted curves, an ample chest and wide hips. He’s been counting on T and top surgery for years, and now, right when he could finally start, he’s being flooded with the exact opposite hormones in his system, a milk-swollen chest, and the prospect of even wider hips after he gives birth.

He could handle it, he thinks, if he could just find a single goddamn masc maternity shirt.

It takes him about ten seconds to rifle through the skimpy XL rack. Maternity selections are never particularly robust, but for someone like Alan–fat and six feet tall–finding anything besides the same ugly gray V-necks and garish floral blouses appears to be impossible.

“Ooh! This is cute!”

Alan looks up to see Tulip once again holding up exactly what he’s not looking for. “Tulip. Babe. Darling. Love of my life. Please.”

“Sorry, I know, not what we’re here for, but look!” Tulip holds the bright green crop top to her chest, its bottom draping sweetly over her own baby bump. She looks down. “Um, okay, maybe not. This is not a very Tulip-core print.”

Alan laughs. “Why not? It’s cute! It’s got limes!”

“Well sure, you’d say that, because it is Alan-core.”

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” Alan grimaces, looking at the sad selection in front of him. Maybe he’ll have to spend the next few months in baggy gym shirts, after all. “Now if you could just put that pattern on a T-shirt and give it some extra belly room, that would be great.”

“Or,” Tulip says, sidling up next to Alan, “you could just try this on.”

“Wh–” Alan turns to face her. “Okay, first of all, that’s your size–”

“It’s stretchy!”

“And second of all, I’m looking for shirts that make me look like a dude, and that’s explicitly not even remotely that.”

“Yes.” Tulip nods solemnly. “But also, maybe, I just think that my very attractive boyfriend would look hot in a too-small crop top.”

“That’s–” Alan starts to argue, then glances at the maternity rack, and stops himself. “Okay, you know what? I need a fucking break. Where’s the dressing room?”

“Yessssss,” Tulip cheers quietly.

Yanking the hanger out of Tulip’s hands, Alan marches into the closest dressing room stall and instructs her to wait. He examines the garment. It’s one of those stretchy, low-cut spaghetti strap pieces, the kind that’s made for skinny women on Pinterest to show off their B-cups and sucked-in stomachs. Not for a fat, busty trans guy with a stretch-marked baby bump. He doubts they even make them at his size.

He reaches to take off his shirt, and realizes with embarrassment that his top has started to ride up, showing the bottom of his belly and gathering right below his bra. How long has he been walking around like that? He yanks it off, trying not to look too hard at his reflection as he puts on the dumb crop top.

Given that it’s several sizes too small, it certainly doesn’t have the loose, boxy fit it’s supposed to, but when Alan looks in the mirror he’s surprised to see it… kind of works. The ribbed fabric pulls across his heavy chest, only just covering his bra, leaving most of his cleavage on display. (Cleavage that’s already much deeper than it was five months ago, and only getting worse.) He meant to throw the dumb thing on and get a little laugh from Tulip, but instead, he finds himself staring at his reflection.

Back when he was trying desperately to be a cis girl, he wanted so badly to look like those skinny Pinterest girls. He’s always been fat, since he was being scolded in grade school for eating the same candy all the other kids got plenty of, since the school nurse told him to exercise more even though he was the star of the softball team. It was only when he realized that he would never look like them, would never be skinny and petite and girly and swoon after the annoying sporty guys, that he finally accepted that, under every box he’d shoved himself into, he didn’t actually want to.

And somehow, right now, wearing this dumb crop top, it feels… good? To take the toxic femininity he felt for so long he had to achieve, and throw it on his fat, trans, pregnant body feels like a rebellion. It hasn’t been long since his doctor warned him to stop binding if he wanted any chance of breastfeeding, and until now, seeing how his bust pulls at every shirt has made him feel like hunching over and burying himself in blankets. But somehow, looking at it on display, outlined by this much too-tight little top, it feels right.

Suddenly, a flutter of movement distracts him, a kick from inside Alan’s heavy belly. He puts a hand to his bump, rubbing it, smiling when he feels another flutter in response. And he realizes: he’s been scared to look in the mirror, scared to be seen, because he’s been so worried what everyone will see is a pregnant woman. He was wrong. In the mirror in front of him are the wide hips, tits, and the big, round belly of a man. And the fact that he can look like this, curvy and pregnant and milky and still know beyond a doubt exactly who he is, makes him feel pretty damn good.

Behind Alan comes a knock at the stall door. “Alan?” he hears Tulip say. “You don’t really have to wear that thing. Sorry, I was just being silly.”

Throwing his jacket over his shoulders to make it feel more him, Alan turns and opens the door.

Tulips eyes widen. “Oh. Okay. I was extremely right, actually.”

Alan smiles. “Yeah, you were.” He turns back, giving his bare-bellied curves one last look.

“You ready to go?” He asks. “I think I’ve picked out everything I needed.”

#ITS TRANS OCLOCK #TIME TO READ ABOUT ALAN GENDER EUPHORIA MOMENT #pregnancy-based gender euphoria is my reason for living #anyway bye #mpreg #tmpreg #ftmpreg #alan #m words #preg #preg kink #cw lactation #lactation kink #belly kink

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juststeveman · 3 years

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Wip may not finish

Spock (alien genitalia) and Jim (trans man) are the more sexual of the trio. Leonard’s asexual, but he loves being a significant part of the sex.

He was jostled awake by the blanket being tugged off of him, and a knee bumping into his side. These two. Leonard took a deep breath and stretched to let them know he was awake, but as he rolled over he saw they didn’t even notice. Spock’s mouth was wide open, his head thrown back against the pillows as Jim’s form shuffled down under the blankets.

“Really?”

Spock’s head turned to the side, no shame or embarrassment in his features as he reached out for Leonard. These romps were too frequent for them to care, Leonard suspected they did it on purpose to include him.

Jim’s hand appeared from under the blanket and he tossed it back, exposing the fact that he had two fingers deep inside Spock. He smirked. “Wanna give me a hand here?” Jim leaned down, sucking Spock’s dick into his mouth to watch the vulcan tremble.

Bones let out a fake exasperated sigh and shifted into his favorite position: back supported by plush pillows, Spock leaning back against his chest, and Jim between Spock’s legs. Beautiful.

Spock let his head fall back against Leonard’s shoulder and shuddered, his hips twitching as Jim’s fingers thrust into him. “Leonard.” His throat was dry, he had been panting as Jim teased him hard, and he welcomed the kiss from the doctor. It was a little sideways, but he calmed immediately and sank back against his chest.

“You two.” Leonard pulled away from Spock’s lips to kiss his neck, “Are insatiable. Really. I think Spock’s hungry for something, Jim.” He hummed, tangling his fingers with Spock’s and smiling down at Jim. He was laying comfortably between Spock’s legs, finger fucking him slowly as he watched his men kiss.

His ears perked up and he nodded, carefully pulling his fingers from Spock and nearly bounding across the room to their dresser.

“Keep yourself open for him.” Leonard nipped at Spock’s ear, guiding his fingers towards his opening and coaxing Spock to finger himself.

Spock let out a low moan as he felt the sensation of his own fingers breaching himself, the sparks flying from both his hand and his opening.

“There we go, darlin.” Leonard kept his hand on Spock’s wrist, guiding his hand the way Leonard wanted to see. A quick glance up at Jim told Leonard that his instructions were clear, Jim had picked his longest and thickest dick to harness to himself.

Spock cracked an eye open as he felt the bed dip again, and he saw which Jim had chosen. “Oh.” Spock wanted to come already, but Leonard tugged on his wrist and gently guided his fingers out. “No, no, Leonard.” Spock whined, feeling open and empty and needing something, anything. “Jim, please.”

Jim was so hard, his dick was rubbing up against the back of the harness and all he wanted to do was sink into Spock and fuck him into oblivion. He looked to the good doctor, his hands on his own knees, waiting for permission.

His boys were so good. Look at them, twitching, hard, both of them leaking, and they waited on his word. “Come here, Jim.” Leonard watched him crawl over the tangle of limbs keeping his body separate from Spock’s, but dying for it. “You get to fuck Spock.” Jim’s eyes flew open as if that was the first he’s heard of the idea. “Slow as you go in. He needs to take everything in him before I give you the go ahead. Okay?”

Spock whined his answer out, his fingers twitching in Leonard’s hands, wanting to reach out.

“Fuck yes.”

Following Leonard’s command, they resettled so Spock’s head was on Leonard’s thigh, and Jim was settled over the vulcan. “Easy, Jim.” Leonard slowed them with a hand to Jim’s shoulder, “Just a bit at a time, I want him to cry by the time he’s gotten all of you.”

Jim nodded and focused, feeling his dick press into Spock and suppressing the urge to just slam into him. Slow. “You feel so good, Spock.” Jim said, pressing his mouth to Spock’s neck and feeling his moan in his throat.

“Can you feel him trying to pull you in?” Leonard’s fingers found their way between them, running the pad of his index finger along the rim stretched around Jim’s dick.

“Not. Helpful.” Spock’s hand flew up and found Leonard’s shirt, needing to grab and hold, “Please, Leonard. I… I need more.”

“You’ll get it, sweetheart, you will. Jim, take your time but press in.”

Jim nodded and focused, making sure not to press in too fast, but fuck. His thighs were shaking, he felt a sheen on his brow, he was definitely panting just as hard as Spock was. It felt like an infinity, but finally, Spock let out a soft sound and Jim felt their hips pressing together.

“Good boys, keep your hips together but you can go ahead and fool around.” Jim’s arms gave out as he felt onto Spock’s chest, cradling his face and kissing him hard. This was where Jim held all of his passion. He could fuck as hard and enthusiastically as Spock, but he held his emotions in his lips. He told Spock exactly how hard he intended to fuck him by opening Spock’s mouth with his tongue, how desperate for him he felt by biting his bottom lip, and how much he loved him with the care he used holding Spock’s cheeks.

Spock was a mess. Sweaty, panting, open, leaking, both his hole around Jim’s dick was soaking wet and his dick, fully emerged from its sheath and pressed between their stomachs. The moment they were released by Leonard his legs wrapped around Jim’s hips to try and pull him even deeper. Spock felt like he could feel him up in his throat, he was so big.

The wave of emotions that came from Jim between their kiss was overwhelming. It took every ounce of his brain to respond to the kiss, while searching around with his hands for his men. His fingers met Jim’s cheek, his fingers falling into place on his temple and let them slip into the mind meld.

Leonard smiled, reaching for Spock’s searching hand and pressing kisses to the fingertips. They had discovered that full melds during sex can be triggering to Leonard, but he can catch snapshots of the feelings through contact with Spock’s hands. He felt the love, the devotion, the headyness of sex overlaying most of the emotions, and he felt them reaching out to him. His men wanted him to know he was loved, even if he wasn't physically participating.

“Go.” The command was given both verbally and mentally. Jim did not hesitate to respond to it, letting out a sigh of relief and finally pulling his hips back and thrusting in.

Spock’s back arched and his mouth dropped open, his moan stuttering due to how hard and deep Jim was fucking him. Every single drag of cock inside him pressed all the way in, pushing up against his g spot, and then nearly all the way out, and he almost has a half second to feel frustrated before it slammed back in.

Jim’s head dropped to Spock’s shoulder, his mouth searching frantically for skin to mark up. He loved his dick. He could fuck Spock open and leaking like this and keep going as long as he wanted.

#spones #mckirk #mcspirk #gays in space

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localswampcrow · 3 years

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sweet storm, please do

oh look another trans fic!!! THIS TIME WITH DRAGONS!!!!!! this is the second story i've written for @transbingo

sppspspsp thank you @sharkfish for your beta assistance

you can read it on ao3 :) or below the cut

sweet storm, please do by localswampcrow

prompt - dragons - card #1

words: 4675

summary: Dean has waited so long for his dragon to find him that he's pretty much put the thought out of his mind. One morning everything changes, and suddenly he isn't so alone anymore.

Late July mornings in New England are a failsafe recipe for swamp ass. The consequential condition is exacerbated by the weekly dose of testosterone freshly circulating in Dean’s system. Plus, his house has no air conditioning. He had left the window cracked last night - felt the silky, star-filled air lick across his bare chest as he let himself drift into sleep - all bodily worry chilled away. Now it felt like a sweltering mistake, his skin itching and dripping with sweat.

Dean rolls away from the light streaming through the butter yellow curtains and tucks his arms around his chest, across the fine lines of a dragon’s body. Everyone is born with a soulmark, and his happens to be here, in a place he keeps to himself. A tail swoops from one shoulder to the other, one set of talons latched firmly onto his collar bone, another pointed in the valley of his chest. He wonders what his dragon looks like in real life.

Dean sighs the sleep out of his body. A long day of class sits at the end of his bed on the desk. He still has over an hour before he’ll be planting himself in front of the computer though.

Mornings are just shy of onerous, swamp ass or not, because the first thing he wants, without fail and no matter the season, is a hot cup of coffee. Getting up and out of bed without a shirt is something he has the luxury of. Living alone grants him that freedom, but there's still a little voice in his head that tells him he's wrong for doing so. A trick of the mind that fails to appreciate the passage of time and the multidimensionality of human identity.

He's never been under the knife, but a testosterone-filled syringe has been his friend for over a year now. The course, somehow velvety hairs across his chest and stomach protects him. They pay no heed to the blue, black, and yellow lines that lace the entire span of his chest, nipple to collar. The mark that has stretched and settled since birth, the mark that means some day a dragon will come to him. The dragon was supposed to come 9 years ago.

Rolling over again Dean is strewn across the sweat-damp mattress, sheet kicked away in sleep and half falling off the corner. He takes one last deep breath in through his nose before shoving himself up. Rubbing the dream dust out of his eyes, he grabs the last pair of clean boxers, damn it, laundry again today, and tosses the worn ones into the bin.

The kitchen is milder, tile floor shiny under the sun’s touch where it has stretched through the window above the sink. This particular window faces an eastern field, behind it is a towering coniferous forest, bustling with peeping, clicking creatures and punctuated by birdsong. Standing before the window he closes his eyes and lets the sun cascade over him. The carafe fills, balanced on the metal divide between the basins. The light draws him upward into the day ahead of him. Curling around his sternum, warming his skin and muscles, tendrils of warmth tease around his joints and into his veins. He counts on this, the cycle of the sun and the moon. Dean feels like he’s in the right place, even if it’s not perfect.

He steps away from the sink and unlocks his phone. Two texts from Claire, one from Charlie, and a missed call with a complimentary voicemail from Garth. He clicks into the text thread with Claire, seeing a photo of her and her dragon on a beach somewhere. The dragon, Kaia, has long purple spotted wings that glimmer against the sand, her eyes a mossy brown even through the screen. Claire is smiling wide, wearing a vibrant blue bikini. She’s pressed up against Kaia’s head, which is almost half the size of Claire’s entire body when she’s in draconic form.

The caption reads, “we all went to the beach today, got my new friend jo to take the pic.”

Dean smiles down at it, silently thanking himself for pushing his sister in the direction of the same LGBTQ+ support group that had been his own lifeline not too many years ago. Apparently, being trans runs in the family, but getting his dragon in a timely manner did not .

Dean: cute. looks like Kaia is having a good time, too

Claire: yeah, it’s fucking awesome. even if she shifted no one would mess with us. not that jody would let anything happen anyway, dragons or not. maine is pretty cool dean!!

Of course, she answers almost immediately, damn kid. Ok ok, she’s almost 18, whatever. She’s practically glued to her phone, no matter if Kaia is in dragon or human form. At least he gets to talk to her.

Dean: maine coast is awesome. maybe when you get back we should plan an end of season camp? before classes start up? there’s a pretty sweet antique barn in freeport i’ve been dying to go back to…

Claire: only if you let me and k share a tent BY OURSELVES THIS TIME

Dean: you’re old enough now. I trust you. pinky promise.

He was wary at first of letting them spend every waking second together, but he figures that was mostly out of feeling the need to protect Claire from anyone unknown to their family. Her and Kaia’s First Meeting was almost a year ago now and it has been made clear that Kaia loves Claire, she’s here to be her protector too. Dean doesn’t have to carry so much of the burden with Jody as an ally, and now Kaia, too.

He looks at the message from Charlie next.

Charlie: heeeyyyyyy bestie!!! another beautiful day out there for an adventure. i’d love to come with if you’re planning on going :)

Charlie knows how he feels about not having his dragon yet, and how he’s coping: the never ending pile of homework that lets up in the summer months, but not by much. Staring at the screen all day, drinking every weekend and doing it again in 5 days, escaping to the meadow over the northern hill by his house until he’s come back into his body enough to keep working. It’s not that he stopped looking for his dragon, per say. He just got too busy to worry about it. He puts on a good face, but he’s so wrapped up in work he doesn’t even make plans with anyone but Charlie and Claire anymore. And he only goes that far because Charlie has known him for 10 years, and Claire is his little sister.

Dean: dude, i’m not in the mood. anyway, i have classes all day, and it’s hot as fuck outside. I’m not gonna just miraculously stumble into a dragon’s lair, and if I did it sure as hell wouldn’t be mine.

Charlie: ok grumpy!!!

He not-so-gently tosses his phone onto the counter top before going for the coffee and scooping out enough for his 4 allotted cups, same as basically every day that has ever come before this one.

Dean doesn’t even have to leave the immediate vicinity of the house for something miraculous to happen though, as it turns out.

It’s when the coffee begins to drip, just shy of pirate black into the overused glass, that he hears it. A screech echoes through the trees. Panicked warning calls follow from the hundreds of birds that stream out into the cloud spotted sky.

“What the fuck? ”

The July-heat induced mellow chirping is disrupted further by a squawk that outranks the family of ravens living near the quarry by a longshot. For a moment Dean is frozen solid. Eyes peeling off the blue-glowing screen and picking his hip up from where it was leaning against the counter, he steps slowly back to the sink and squints through the window. It’s almost more eerie when he doesn’t see anything right away, just a few squirrels darting through the grassline.

Dean cups his hands over his eyes for better sight against the sun-glare. No more than three seconds later, the owner of the bone rattling cry comes tromping through the ancient pines, their tops swaying. In the field, dandelions nod disapprovingly at the blunt entrance, and the dragon roars. Sleek ultramarine wings are speckled in inescapable cavern blue so dark it’s almost obsidian. The broad wings pump the air, kicking up dirt and dry pine needles from the forest edge. The dragon’s head whips around, yellow swirls running down their neck just like -

Dean staggers back from the window, knees buckling. A burning sensation runs from his throat down around his navel, burning hot under his clavicle. Like a jolt of electricity is ricocheting, confined in his ribcage, and he curses out. Well, there goes any chance of this being just a regular day.

“What in the FUCK?”

He can see the dragon through the glass, moving across the field, still wildly pivoting their head this way and that like they are - like they’re searching for something? Dean holds his chest, arms crossed over the mark, fingernails digging pink crescents into the now clammy meat of his shoulders. He pants, from the searing pain but also from shock, because the longer he looks, the more he gets the feeling that this is not some random dragon that’s found his secluded domain. He knows those eyes, star filled cornflower rings nearly severed by the vertical slit of each midnight pupil. These are the eyes that have been in his dreams for years, and looking back up at him in the mirror since forever, keeping watch indefinitely .

The dragon comes to a halt, closer to the house than to the forest, wings pulsing only slightly now, their pointed tips gouging through the flora layer and into the dirt. Taking a shuddering breath, Dean steps back to the sink ledge and leans in as far as he can towards the beast. As if now finally pinpointing Dean inside the house, the dragon looks directly through the window. Dean feels as his skin catches fire, green eyes meeting blue ones. This time the dragon is living and breathing, not lines on his own body.

His hands fall away, two embers burning brightly against the time-stained countertop. But when he looks down, they're just his hands, white scars queer against the summer freckles. Halting time for as many milliseconds as the universe will afford him, he closes his eyes. Before he can let the reality that the one thing he never thought would happen it’s happening now! worm out of the grey cloud perpetually above him and down into his brain, he squeezes his eyes shut.

He shuts his eyes tight tight tight and grips the edge of the counter, breathing into his knees. On the inside, his eyelids glow crimson. Dean shakes his head, disbelief pushing a laugh out of his sore lungs and it tumbles weakly through his teeth.

“ Ok. Sure, say it’s them,” he whispers to himself, shaking his head again and looking out the window to where the dragon appears to be waiting, long tail wrapped around themself like a cat. He laughs again, teetering on the edge of disbelief. “Ok, so, today is when your dragon shows up. Out of the blue. That’s fine.”

He pushes away from the counter and heads straight to his room, coffee halfway brewed, phone sitting face down next to the sink. A low whine comes from outside. He hastily pulls a shirt with deep cuts in the arm holes - no sleeves - over his head. Then he is tripping over the door frame, leaving the door to swing half-shut behind him. He runs to the back, to the field and the freaking huge dragon.

The dragon turns, spiderwebbed wing dragging through the grass, scaly chest puffing in and out anxiously. Craning their head, they lock eyes with Dean again.

And Dean just stops. The other-worldly beast looks him up and down, the activated rise-and-fall pattern of their breast slowing, elongating.

The dragon purrs. Dean’s head spinning as the sound, deep like a wave drawing up, readying itself to crash, seeps into his skin, soothing the crackling heat in his bones.

Swallowed by the crystal clear gaze that has lived in his mind for an eternity, he finds himself breathing fresh, chilled air into his belly. His chest tingles, shoulder to shoulder. Not even the blinding sun could force him into squinting his eyes now.

The dragon lowers its head, bowing, and Dean feels his feet float across the stretch of earth and weeds between them. He takes the offering for all that it is. When he can feel the beast's moist breath on his neck, his eyes snap open again. When did they close? Spirited heart beat thumping in his ears, Dean raises his hand, ignoring the throbbing sensation in his fingers. His hand is barely smaller than the dragon’s nose, he notices as he places it on the shiny scales between their eyes. A shimmer zips through him at the contact.

“Hi,” he says, a hair above a whisper.

The dragon purrs again, tilting its head to lean into the soft, warm touch. “This is…” he continues, but there’s no misunderstanding in his throat now. “I had no idea what this would be like, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.”

The dragon narrows their eyes and scoots their nose closer to Dean’s neck. A slimy tongue sneaks out between canines and, curious, licks under the curling neckline of his tank top. Dean squeaks at the sensation, surprised before he remembers: in order for someone’s dragon to shift for the first time - for human and dragon souls to meet properly - the dragon must “hail witness to the mark”.

“You need to see it, don’t you?” Dean asks. The dragon licks up his neck in response. “Ok, it’s kind of big, hold on.”

He steps back, the dragon tracking his every move. He grabs the bottom hem of the shirt, ready to whip it back over his head as quick as he pulled it on, but stops for a second to grimace awkwardly.

“I, uh. I don’t look like most other people, but, um… crossing my fingers here, that we really are soulmates, so, you’re not supposed to care what I look like. Anyway.” W hy is he suddenly so nervous? This dragon literally knows Dean’s soul, regardless of the fact they’ve never met face to face before.

The dragon tilts their head further, rightly squinting at Dean in confusion.

“Ok, here goes.”

Quick like a bandaid the shirt is off, and he’s standing, exposed in the sun with his dragon and positively glowing. Dean had no idea a dragon could gasp in awe but that is exactly what this dragon does.

The rumbling purr intensifies, and then the dragon is sweeping their tongue along the length of Dean’s chest. Down to his belly button, over his nipples and up each side of his neck, all over the soul mark embedded in his skin, before it withdraws its yellow patterned neck and sinks deeper into the shape of worship .

No one told Dean that this First Meeting would be so sensual — and even slightly erotic — but it fucking is. The blush rising in his cheeks is no less dampened when the dragon finally shifts, and there’s a naked person in a full kneeling bow in front of him. Hands on the ground, fingers tangled in the witch grass, wind-blown head of hair same as the nearly-black shade of the dragon’s scales, naked ass lifted slightly in the air. Dean might laugh at the sight if he weren’t so in shock, and if it weren’t his literal soulmate who was so obliviously nude in front of him.

“Uhhm, hi.” Eloquent as ever. “You don’t have to - it’s alright if you, uh - no need to do that,” Dean says. He knows that’s just how the First Meeting goes, with the Display and the Bow, but he always thought it was kind of strange. The magical being who is the perfect match for your soul, who is there to form agreements of love and guidance with you, bows at the human’s feet naked.

The dragon looks up, those same sparkling cornflower eyes glowing, half in shade cast by their own body.

“Hello.” They push themselves up to sit, knees bent still in a prayer-like pose. They’re fully nude and insanely sculpted, giving Dean an unapologetic view of their cock, soft in contrast to the dark, wiry hairs curling a trail down their stomach to their groin. The red in Dean’s cheek spikes, staining all the way down his neck and he swears he gets a whiff of damp earth, and flowers that have already passed their blooming period for the year.

“H-hi. Wow.” God is this really happening? Dean reaches for his shirt and starts tugging it back on.

The dragon’s face glitters, reminiscent of their scales somehow and they smile. Dean wants a taste of everything he’s seen so far.

With that smile, words start rolling out of the dragon’s mouth. “Your soul is so beautiful.” it is said like a breath of clean air.

They continue to gaze at Dean from their spot in grass, and he feels cold water trickle down his chest, making him aware of every breath. The dragon continues, “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed. I felt I had no choice but to worship, if only for a moment.” They lift their hands to lay over their own blue-black-yellow lined chest right over their heart, and Dean feels those same exact places in his chest fill with cool.

“Thank you, for showing me the mark. And you.” Their tone is full of adoration. Sweetness like ancient honey, brandy laced with lilacs.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, adding another layer to the flush and embarrassment tugging at him from the inside, relief and disbelief silently at war.

“I can’t believe you’re really here.” I missed you and I didn’t tell anybody because that wouldn’t make any sense. He swipes at eyes. “I’m Dean. I don’t really - I can’t respond right now to what you just said. But I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”

“I am Castiel. I’m deeply sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. You owe me nothing. Truly. I am elated to finally be here with you.”

A cicada trills somewhere above them.

Dean nods, sucking in a shaky breath to keep the potential tsunami at bay. "Let's - come with me to, um, yeah. To-" He clears his throat, hoping that will help him form a coherent sentence.

Still not knowing quite what to say next, he sticks out his hand, palm up, the kind of offering that’s not in the books. Castiel blinks at it.

“C’mon. Come with me inside, Cas - er, Castiel,” he says, the now full-body blush of his skin aggrivated by the sun still beating down. “It’s too hot out here to think straight. You’re allowed to come in - just don’t shift while you’re in the house.” Why would anybody want their dragon to stay outside, anyway?

He reaches out a little further towards Castiel, fingers pulsing in cool beats, magnetized, pulling him closer to the enchanting hues swirling up their neck even in human form.

Maybe if he can get some clothes on Castiel he'll feel less distracted by their glowing skin, less like he'll do something rash, like kiss them or stuff his nose into the hollow of their throat and lick . None of that would be wrong , they're connected already, their souls have shared ties since birth, and Castiel already knows all of Dean's desires. But Dean isn't some asshole who's playing to jump his dragon at the First Meeting like some people do.

Castiel takes his hand and rises, eyes wide.

Dean feels it ripple through him where they touch. The buzzing in his fingertips is swinging back to latch around at his elbow, almost like he hit his funny bone. If every touch between them is going to be this intense, Dean doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to tear himself away from this creature ever again. He’s so used to having nothing.

Castiel follows Dean to the left and down the hall once they’re inside, two pairs of sticky feet on the hardwood floor.

“Here--” Dean holds out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt for Castiel. They hesitate until Dean repeats the motion, clothes flopping amusedly. “Just put ‘em on, please, they should fit ok for now. We’ll get you some of your own soon.”

Dean most certainly does not stare at all the places where Cas’s skin disappears under thin fabric. The faded Zeppelin logo hangs and the collar sags and it’s the most exquisite it has ever looked on anyone, Dean is sure. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he leads Castiel back to the kitchen and his abandoned attempts of a regular morning. He pulls a mug out of the cabinet, then points to a seat at the table where Castiel sits, facing the opposite window. Dean leans back against the counter, full cup of coffee under his nose and lets his mind race for a few moments, well-earned. One minute he was ready to dive into a day of disconnecting from reality through his computer screen. The next, he is in his kitchen with his dragon , 9 years after making peace with the idea that they would never find him.

He picks up his phone.

Dean: i take back what i said. i’m in a good mood now :))))

Charlie: oh really? What happened??

Dean: you’re never gunna believe me dude. it feels like i’m dreaming

Charlie: HELLO?

Dean: i’ll show you in a little bit. still processing.

Dean: charlie. they found me.

He puts his phone face down on the counter and thinks that maybe he’ll never be able to wipe the smile off his face ever again.

“Well Cas, welcome home.” Dean sets down a glass of water in front of the dragon and takes his own seat to their right. No one else has ever looked so etherall while sitting at his dining room table.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas lifts their broad, mud-scuffed palm to splay over Dean’s arm, just below his shoulder. They absolutely beam at him. Fire and the twang of sweet mugwort whisper between them. Dean smells like summer and fragrant sunny fields. This dragon finally home.

Dean emails his professors and explains he won’t be in class for the rest of the week. They all understand, of course. When he puts his phone on speaker to talk to Charlie later in the day the conversation is significantly less intelligible. Dean just laughs and shrugs when Cas’s face twists in confusion at the human they’ve never met before, her high pitched squeals crackling through the phone.

“I’M SO FUCKING EXCITED TO MEET YOU, CASTIEL!!”

The call with Claire was not so dramatic.

“ Hi Castiel. Fun name.” she says with a chuckle. “When me and Kaia - that’s my dragon - are back from this trip we’ll come over for a visit.” Dean watches as Castiel listens intently to her voice, tinny through the speakers. She snorts, “I’m glad you’re here. Maybe Dean will actually be happy again now. Dean, don’t do anything stupid before I get back.”

Dean is about defend himself when Claire hangs up with a “love you bye!”

Castiel keeps his eyes on the phone as the screen goes black, only looking up to slide their hand around Dean’s neck, leaning until their lips are brushing together. It sends those cool, grounding shivers through his stomach and across the soles of his feet.

That night Dean makes dinner, Physical Graffiti filling the kitchen with sound but not overwhelming it. The slick scent of rain and spring ferns weaves with the sweetest wormwood and golden rays that accumulate in the space between them. Maybe that’s what rainbows taste like.

Time slows when Castiel lays their body against Dean’s in bed. Freshly showered black-blue-yellow lines buzzing into Dean’s back, no cloth separating them. Dean drifts into unconsciousness with the lush, raw scent of a rainstorm surrounding him, Castiel oozing calm. A hand hangs languidly across his waist, on each inhale their fingers brush the dark hairs up his stomach. When he wakes up, the sparkling, cat-like eyes are still there.

----

Dean is so taken with the way that Cas loves storms. Together they listen for the fat raindrops and thunder vibrating the windows. They love the lightning that snakes its way through the sky, between the clouds. Dean specifically notes that Cas loves music played in the kitchen, when they swaying with Dean as the sun creeps in through the sink-side window. Dean is infatuated with everything Cas does and says, and definitely doesn’t stop Cas from sniffing deeply across any easily accessible patch of his skin.

Especially not when Cas says “ This has always been my favorite scent, because it is you.” He works through that shame, and before long, he bypasses any hesitance to sniff Cas right back. He kind of forgot that soulmates have certain smells attached to each other, because everyone else just smells like sweat or soap.

The butterflies in Dean’s stomach become a group of friends, they tell him when it’s ok to feel flustered and admired by Castiel. Cas loves time in the woods alone, bringing back sap from fallen pines in March and blackberries in August. Finding bones and carcasses are not outside the range of normalcy either. There are endless uses of the haul of their foraging - food, medicines, rocks and furs and bones and special sticks for adding to their altar. After a few years Dean has a respectable collection of dragon wisdom stored in his brain.

Today however, only a month after their First Meeting, Cas brings home an entire dead deer. Despite Dean’s disgusted expression at Cas being in the backyard with a deer corpse (that needed to be stripped and cleaned before it was coming anywhere near the door) he shook his head humorously. For a very intimidating dragon Cas sure had some quirky, although fitting, passions in relation to the wild.

“Have fun with… whatever this is.” He waves his hand around before heading back inside to refill his coffee and sit down at the computer.

A rumbling “I love you!” follows Dean through the screen door and he turns around to blow them a kiss. That is something Dean was very happy to teach Castiel about, among other human habits. He bites his lip, catching the kiss that Cas sends him in return and holding his tingling hand to his chest. Teases of lightning and cool and seep through the intricate lines across his skin.

The keyboard clacks until 3pm gives way to 4 and he slams the lid. Cas had come to his desk 2 hours ago and said “if you aren’t done by 4PM I will breathe fire on that machine, Dean. You stare at it for too long, it must hurt your eyes.” Dean had sighed and worried at his bottom lip. Of course Cas was right.

Standing up, his joints creak, a few pop as he shakes out his bad knee and he tiptoes into the living room. Cas is reading a book on the couch, waiting for him.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hello. Are you ready?”

“Am I ready… for what?”

“I was hoping you would enjoy going flying. With me, of course.”

Dean hadn’t thought of that in a very long time.

“Oh. Hell yeah. I didn’t know that- I didn’t know if that actually happened or not.” He is wide eyed and grinning like an idiot, which Cas takes as a yes.

Hands grip scales, soaring above their little house in the woods. Dean has never felt more loved - and free - in his entire life.

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vixenpen · 4 years

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That’s my type (favorite cam model type/IG models)

Type of models he likes

* Enji follows some younger models, but he much prefers mature models 35-55

* Finds them more self assured, confident, and relatable

* He loves BBWs and plus sized models

* He’s a big, strong, hard guy so the juxtaposition of all those soft curves and fat gets him hard instantly

* Soft stomachs, rolls, stretch marks, Caesarian scars

* It all appeals to his breeding kink

* Also he doesn’t want someone who will run from the dick (cuz he sho has a lot of it!) and he don’t need no weak wispy woman.

* Not to say, BBW women can’t be delicate or fragile s

* He will handle all of that jelly with the utmost care

* Asses with celllulite, dimples, or stretch marks are 😩😩😩🤤🤤🤤 for Enji.

* Big hips (again appeals to his breeding kink)

* Has a soft spot for single moms. Sends extra money for school supplies, games, clothes

* I wonder if he’s overcompensating for something

* Loves darker skinned women of color. Their skin looks so soft, yet firm and he tends to like his preferred body type on them the best.

* Low key wants to get pegged

* Has 3 sugar babies. 2 BBWS (one black and one mixed race both over 40) and a trans woman

* High key wants to have a 3 some with his plus sized sugar babes. Thinks being sandwiched between all that plush thiccness would be 🤤🤤🤤

* His trans sugar baby turned him on to trans discrimination. He was horrified.

* Donates to many trans friendly charities because of her

* Hates when his sugar babies talk negatively about their weight, age, or orientation

* Will reassure them they’re the most beautiful women on the planet with a fancy dinner and shopping spree

* Dicks them down till they can’t walk

#bnha headcanons #bnha smut #black women #black writers #bnha imagines #mha headcanons #enji smut #todoroki enji smut #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha scenarios #enji todoroki #endeavor #anime headcanons #anime fanfiction #anime / manga #instagram #body positive anime

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impossible-rat-babies · 3 years

Text

first 20 lines meme

i got tagged by @coldshrugs tysm azia! tagging: @trvelyans, @zarneki, @rosykims, @forestcreatures, @starrypawz, @heartbrreak, @bitchesofostwick, @juniper-tree, @wayhavn, @pearlsandsteel, and whomever else go for it !

The challenge is to list the first lines of your 20 latest fanfics. these’ll include wips too lol there’s some vague nsft stuff below the cut--nothing truly explicit in these though

1. prompt fill wip:

Rubble digging into Pollux’s shoulder blades, a heavy dead weight across his back pressing down on him. He winces, gritting his teeth and there’s just shallow breaths, ribs pressing painfully into the ground.

2. pollux finding out fic:

Mason curses as he breaks yet another cigarette and he tosses it into the trash, yanking out the old worn packaging for another one. Hands shaking, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and it works this time.

3. more shoe string french fry biting fic:

Pollux fishes another fry out from the little package of shoe strings, chewing slowly before he speaks: “You remember when I bit you?”

Ortega groans, shoulders hunching and the hood of the car once again protests under their weight. “You’ve bitten me no less than three times, Lux.” He reminds him and Pollux chews another couple of fries and swallows.

4. bathtub fic:

Pollux sinks lower into the water and for the first time in a long while, it’s quiet.

The faucet still drips, ripples spreading out until they hit his knees and he too lets them sink beneath the water--distorted and unclear.

5. the five feet apart because they’re not (gay)

Five feet.

A foot between him and the desk, another two and a half feet of desk, and then Grayson a foot and a half away. Might as well be miles and Pollux sniffs (again) picking at his thumbnail (again).

Five minutes.

Five minutes they’ve been sitting in silence. Nick is quiet too, but there’s a buzzing of anxiety whirling and twisting on itself that Pollux isn’t sure if it’s his own or just Nick. Probably both, if he’s being honest with himself.

6. nightmare/dropping the cups fic:

it’s too late to still be awake, Ortega thinks. He should be in bed with Pollux, instead he’s picking his way around the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of dinner neither of them bothered to deal with once they were done.

7. phone go brr fic:

it’s far too early when the distant sound of the factory standard phone chime beeps over and over again, drawing him out of sleep. The sun hasn’t even come up, Pollux squinting his eyes open to stare at the blue hour haze coming through the thin curtains.

8. pollux shaving his head panic attack rip:

4am and he’s stuck sitting on the lid of the toilet, hands shaking uncontrollably with what he knows is yet another panic attack, his upper back and diaphragm aching from the frantic breaths. It’s all muted under the sound of clippers, the buzz and the strain as he combs the blades through his curls, watching ringlet after ringlet fall to the white tiles. They’re cold beneath his bare toes and and oh god he can *feel* it—

Why do they have to be white tiles?

Cool air on the back of an open shift, shivering at the cold and indignity of it all, laying on his side and staring at the floor, large needle pressing against his lower back deeper, between vertebra and poking into his spine—

9. legit just some pwp

Pushed against the wall and Pollux gasps, Ortega’s lips immediately following to meet his again, open mouths and trying to breathe while kissing is incredibly difficult. Ortega pulls him closer and Pollux has to crane his neck to keep reaching his lips but he doesn’t mind the effort.

Pollux grasp his shirt, pulling on fancy buttons and silk to find skin, fingers running across his stomach, feeling Ortega’s breath catching.

10. don’t stop (color on the walls)

It’s a clear night out tonight, the sky an endless dome stretching miles and miles overhead out into deep inky blackness bespectacled by freckled stars.

Pollux blows a stream of smoke out of his mouth and it drifts up and up until it dissipates and he wonders if any particles of the smoke will reach that impossibly high ceiling. If they’ll touch moon perched on the roof, staring down at him with her grey blue light.

11. thigh kisses thigh kisses pollux kissing thighs (nsfw)

Hands on his belt buckle, sliding the belt through the loops and its tossed onto the floor. Pollux’s hands work at the button and zipper, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, knees trapping Ortega in close.

12. morning after stuff per usual lol

Pollux grumbles and grunts, hiking his pants up and over slim hips in a smooth motion, adjusting them around his waist once they’re buttoned and zipped up. His hip smarts a touch and he shift his weight from one foot to the other, rolling his ankle. It clicks like always does, his knee the same crackling as always.

13. more pwp bc. couches.

kissing a path down his erratically moving stomach and Pollux bites his trembling lip hard, head cocked at an awkward angle, shoulders pressed against the back cushion of the couch. Ortega’s hands gripping his hips, thumbs pressing into the divots of his hipbones and fuck he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how big Ortega’s hands are, how he holds him so tightly and so assuredly.

14. the twenty questions fic im never going to finish:

“Okay question one.”

“Question one?”

“Well yeah, this is how twenty questions goes.”

Incredulous and obnoxious is how this is going. And the chair is especially uncomfortable, the stupid molded plastic thing.

Charge has refused to meet in his office, saying it was too professional of an environment to get to know someone and Pollux wonders if there’s anything professional about the man. Well, beyond the very nice (and expensive no doubt) dress shirt and slacks, but even then the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

15. a follow up to our reflections

Pain greets him when his eyes open and Pollux clenches his eyes shut once more, the screaming headache cut off suddenly at motions too fast for his battered brain and body. It quiets to a dull roar at the base of neck, spreading down across his shoulders with each breath.

He groans softly, but steady arms and hands find him, pulling him in close. Mason buries his face in his hair and Pollux tucks his face against his chest, hand smoothing out and across Mason’s ribs, feeling him breathe long and deep. Warmth seeping into his hand.

16. a wip i made happy without trying:

“Okay, okay now it’s your turn sweetheart. Worst fuck you’ve had.”

Pollux sighs and sits further back on Mason’s hips he’s straddled, crossing his arms and he fusses with a loose strand on his borrowed shirt. Pity that Mason is left shirtless, but he hasn’t complained yet.

“Okay fine...does it have to actually have been like, dick in...?”

“Nah.”

“Give me a minute then.”

“Wow that many?”

Pollux glances down and gives Mason a wicked glare, but the anger is tempered by the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Mason grins back, hands running down the slope of Pollux’s back and down the curve of his thigh, fingers tucking against the back of his knees pressed against the mattress. He shivers at the motions, giving Mason a brief glance.

17. hotel california

A haze creeps around the edges of Rabbit’s mind, a steady rise back to consciousness; details escape them, the haze of drowsiness like cotton between their ears and they blink slowly in the dim yellow light. The gibberish hum of a tv turned down low on the edge of their hearing, but they know the sound of the news anywhere--the monotone of a newscaster droning

18. the “i refuse to believe adam doesn’t go down” fic + trans rights

Jamie pulls his head back when he hears Adam’s knees hit the floor, the air cool against his heated skin as he pulls his sweats down with him. Adam leans in, scattering Jamie’s hips with kisses and little marks he knows will leave behind marks. He’ll be covered in them by time they’re done and Jamie’s trembling, biting his lip and staring down at Adam.

19. another i dunno i just wanted a different perspective fic

ringing—ears ringing. sharp pain in his jaw and work out the kinks, make sure nothing is broken. Nothing is broken—he knows the pain of broken bones and this doesn’t feel like it. Nothing crunches as he moves his arms, the world rapidly spinning back into focus.

20. our reflections:

Feet stumbling over each other, Pollux’s shoulder slams into the door and he curses loudly. Pain radiates down his arm and into his ribs, scattering across his shoulder blades and ending at the headache welling across his scalp. Breath catching, pain making his diaphragm stutter but he knows this well. Pause, close his eyes, lean against the door, and take a few deep breaths to ease the tightness.

#tag meme #thank you azia im like a week late but im doing in nonetheless lol #owen writes #god i have so many wips #not counting the thousands of words sitting in other docs #pour one out for the abandoned 5k fic somewhere in my drafts

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Sweet Escape (Kai x Healer!Reader)

Summary: you meet Kai in the slave ship. He’s a fighter, you’re a healer. Both against your will. Being together is a solace against the horrors of the world.

Author’s notes: this was requested by an anon who wanted some smut with Kai from 47 ronin. Never wrote for him before. It’s hardly one of my favorite movies with Ke, but I did what I could. Hope you like it. As usual, feedback is appreciated.

Wordcount: 2530

Warnings: mention of canon violence, but not especified. wounds and blood. smut

You felt the ground shift beneath your feet, making your stomach queasy. The ship always rocked harder down here and you hated it. You were not made to be on water vessels, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. Your last owner sold you to the captain to settle his debts. Once the captain found out your particular gifts with healing, he had you taking care of his fighters, making sure they were up and ready for the next round of barbaric fighting the following night.

Most of the fighters refused you care. Calling you witch, the word being either hissed in distaste or spit in your face as they all but shoved you out of their cells. You rolled eyes and left, unfortunately, used to the abuse. You didn’t know anything else and all because of the black mark in your left eye that made your dark iris bleed and consume part of your sclera.

It wasn’t something you could control. You were born like that and it didn’t mean anything, but it wasn’t like you could explain it and even if you could, no one was willing to listen. So, you kept your head down, did what you were told. At least the captain didn’t keep you chained or flogged you for just existing. That was already better than your previous owner.

Once again, the ship shook and you hurried to grab at the walls, pressing your lips together to fight your nausea. This was the thing you hated the most about this place: the unsteadiness beneath your feet. As soon as you felt it was safe to move, you walked to the next cell with quick steps, knocking quietly on the half-opened door. A low voice bid you entrance, and you peeked your head inside to look.

At first, all you saw was a pale back marked with lashes. Some old and healed, others reddish and bleeding. Probably consequences of his combat early that night. He was the captain’s newest acquisition and from what you heard, an excellent fighter.

“Captain sent me to tend to your wounds,” you said making him tilt his head your way.

You couldn’t make out his features, his dark hair covering most of it, but he nodded shortly, and you walked further into space. You set your things on the cot and started your task of cleaning and dressing the wounds on his back.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He shifted slowly, turning to face you, his soft brown eyes devoid of any emotion as he exposed his chest to you, two bleeding lashes crossing his torso. “You fought Tran?”

“I don’t know his name,” his voice was raspy like he was unused to speak.

“He’s the one with the blades on his chains,” you explained, getting to work. “Well, was,” you corrected. All the fights were to the death.

The man only hummed in response, barely flinching as you pressed the ointment on the gashes so they were no longer bleeding, before you inspected them, making sure he wouldn’t need stitches.

“Thank you,” he said, once you were done and moved to the door. You only nodded once in reply, leaving the room.

The days stretched and mingled together in the ship since they were always the same: you would wake up with the first rays of the sun to break your fast away from the rest of the crew. They were uncomfortable with making meals with you. Fortunately, the cook was nice enough to let you eat in the kitchen before you brought the captain his own meal, helped him get dressed and ready for the day.

At first, you were afraid he would try to force himself on you, but thankfully, despite the fact he would let you treat his fighters; the captain wasn’t about to risk himself laying with a witch. Just to be sure. It was a relief.

Once he left his quarters for the day, you stayed behind reading and watching the sea through the small window in his cabin since the crew whispered and fretted whenever you tried to go to the deck. When night fell, you would join everyone else and watch the fights. Most of them you could only bear to look through the slits of between your fingers, the level of violence making you even more nauseous than usual.

When the fights were over, you gathered your kit and made the rounds between those who survived. Most of them refused your services, a few didn’t really have a choice, wounds so severe that if gone untreated, they would fester and kill them, but they would always look at you with suspicion, follow your every move, threating to slit your throat if you cursed or tried to poison them. Only one person would receive your care without a word. You almost dared to say he welcomed it really. That was Kai.

In the time that he had been in the ship, Kai had emerged victorious from every fight, mostly unharmed, but sometimes it was a closer call and you would have to visit him. He never spoke much, never complaining or trying to dodge your touch. At most, he would let out a long, drawn-out sigh when your fingers first connected with his damaged skin, but sometimes you wondered if it was a sigh of relief instead of pain or disgust.

His eyes remained hollow, melancholic, aiding to your curiosity. His features were of a white man, but he behaved with the care and poise of a samurai, which you knew he could not be.

“Where are you from Kai?” you asked once as you set his shoulder back in place after his latest fight, earning a small grunt as the bone popped back into its socket.

“Nowhere.” His voice remained soft despite his pain.

“Everyone comes from somewhere,” you pointed out, wrapping his arm to his chest to make sure it would remain immobile for the time it would take to heal.

“Where do you come from?” he asked, intense gaze boring into your eyes. You thought back the several villages and cities you had been through your life, never being allowed to belong anywhere.

“Nowhere,” you replied with a chuckle, earning a small smile from him. He understood better than you thought he could. “Rest and heal.”

“Thank you.”

Kai's latest fight was brutal. The captain pitted him against a huge man, his muscles thick and menacing, his size twice of Kai’s. You held your breath through it, flinching at the clank of steel against steel. Squeezing your eyes shut at the sound of flesh hitting flesh and bones cracking, Kai grunting and gasping as he fought.

You heard the crowd cheer a second before the ground shook, the heavy noise of a large body thudding against the wooden floor drowned by the shouts and celebrations. You dared to look, and Kai stood in the center, his katana still raised, his body shaking and covered in red blood. He won.

As soon as you could, you slipped away from the captain, heading straight for Kai’s cell, finding it with the door ajar and you called out his name softly before you stepped inside. He was frozen in the middle of the room, dripping on the floor, body tense like a taut bow.

“Kai…” you called his name again, this time with a soft touch to his shoulder.

In a blink you were against the wall, all breath gone from your lungs as he held you with a hand around your throat, his eyes wide, the blood of his opponent making a gory mask on his handsome face.

“Kai,” you whispered his name almost soundless, but it snapped him from whatever trance he had been in because he let you go, shaking and cowering back, breath coming in short pants.

“I’m sorry,” Kai mumbled, curling into himself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you assured, crawling closer, hands hovering over his large arms, but still afraid to touch. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“You should leave,” he said in a sob, his voice trembling. “I’m a monster.”

You sighed heavily, your heart aching for him. You knew all too well how it felt to hate yourself like that. To have everyone else hate you.

“You’re not a monster, Kai,” you said softly, reaching for the bucket of water and the washcloth. “You’re just surviving.”

He finally met your eyes and for the first time, they weren’t hollow, but haunted, afraid of himself.

You brought the cloth to his face, wiping away the blood, until you could see his handsome features again before dipping the cloth in the bucket, the water turning pinkish and trickling down your arm as you worked on his neck and the exposed skin of his chest.

You pulled away long enough for Kai to take his shirt off before returning to your task, cleaning him up under his watchful eyes. His gaze slowly shifting from terrified to grateful. Setting the washcloth aside, you examined his torso, a myriad of bruises blossoming on his skin, his breath hitching as your fingers grazed tender ribs, but other than that, Kai was fine.

“Thank you.”

The words were spoken in a low voice, his brown eyes still tracking your every movement as you knelt between his legs and for this first time you realized how big Kai was and you wanted nothing but to crawl into his arms and stay there.

Instead, you cupped his jaw in your hands, your thumb rubbing against his untamed beard as you gazed into his eyes. You never felt this before, but you wanted it… something. Not sure exactly what.

You pressed your lips against his, tentative and soft at first, but as Kai welcomed your touch, you grew bolder, nipping at his lip, pressing your tongue against the seam and he opened up to you, letting you explore, lick into his mouth. His tongue pressed against yours in a slow dance that made something in the pit of your stomach warm and tight.

Moving closer until you were straddling his lap, you deepened the kiss, one of your hands exploring his shoulders and chest while his hands found their way to your hips, his touch soft, hesitant as they settled over the fabric of your clothes.

You moved away from his mouth to kiss his neck, the hollow of his throat, his smooth chest… Your hands foreshadowing the movement of your lips, moved down, to the ties of his breeches and you looked up at Kai, finding him once again watching you.

“Yes,” it was all he said and as you undid his breeches, he tugged at the knot holding your kimono closed, baring your skin to his gaze, along with the scars that adorned your body.

His palms were warm and rough as Kai guided you to lie back before his lips traced and kissed each mark on your skin. His tongue lavishing it right after, making you arch and writhe beneath him, your hands tightening and tugging on his long dark hair as he moved lower and lower until his breath tickled your sex and you were heaving and shaking.

Your skin was on fire; every touch of his making you alight with want, and you could feel your arousal dripping wetly between your legs, your walls pulsing in need around nothing and you never felt empty before, but now your body clamored for Kai.

“Please,” you gasped, and he covered your body with his own; his weight grounding you, his scent surrounding you as Kai reached between the two of you, guiding himself in, pushing slowly.

You whimpered against his neck, the stretch like a sweet burn making your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as Kai finally settled, completely sheathed inside you, panting and shaking with the effort of remaining in control.

He rested against you for a moment, letting you adjust, and you felt his heart rabbiting against yours, his breath warm and wet against your collarbone. You cupped his face again, brushing his hair away so you could look at him. There were wonder and affection in his eyes and you brought Kai for a kiss as you rolled your hips against his, encouraging him to move.

With your lips still together in a deep kiss, Kai started thrusting in and out of you, slow and steady and you could feel every inch of him rubbing against your walls, rekindling the heat in the pit of your stomach and stroking it until it set your entire being blaze.

You moved against Kai, your legs wrapped around him, heels digging on his back, your breath mingling with his as the two of you panted against each other mouths, your chests sliding against one another.

You could feel your desire growing and expanding, overtaking your body, making you arch for more, harder, faster. Pushing lightly against his chest, Kai took the hint and rolled on his back, bringing you on top of him in a surprising smooth motion.

Taking him inside you again, you rested your hands on his chest and started rolling your hips, grinding on his until Kai was grunting and gasping, his hands tightening around your thighs, moving upwards until he was cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples lightly.

The sharp bolt of pleasure made you buck and increase your speed until you were bouncing on his cock, ecstasy clouding your mind, overtaking you completely as you rode him until you reached your pleasure, coming with a loud moan, before you fall back on his chest, heaving and grinning, your entire body tingling and quivering.

Kai held you tight against him, his hips snapping up at a fast pace, his grunts and groans rising as he finally reached his own climax and you felt him spilling deep inside you, his embrace tightening slightly before he relaxed, but without letting you go.

You stayed wrapped around each other for long moments, just breathing and listening to each other’s heartbeats. You felt like you could stay like this forever and you would be perfectly happy.

“I should go,” you said, lifting your face to look at him. “Before the captain sends someone for me.” Kai only nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Maybe I can come tomorrow night?”

“I would like that,” he smiled, bending down to meet your lips.

However, there was no tomorrow. The next night, Kai fought a ronin, Ôishi.

You saw him go into that same nothingness of before leaving only an ugly beast of violence. You saw the ronin saying something to Kai, something that snapped him out of his daze and the pair united to fight their way out as the crew tried to contain them.

Your senses were drowned by the confusion and you didn’t know what was happening, not until you felt a hand wrap around yours. You looked up to see Kai, his eyes shining like you had never seen before. Shining with purpose.

“Come with me,” he mouthed, his voice lost in the cacophony of sounds.

You went. You had nothing left to lose.

xxx

Permanent Tag List (give me a shout if you want to added or removed)

@toomanystoriessolittletime @meetmeinthematinee @theolsdalova @krazycags01 @beyond-antares @cumberbatchbaps @sgt-morgan @futuristic-imbecile @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day @fanficsrusz @nonsensicalobsessions @poisonedjoinery@penwieldingdreamer @alwaydreamingofu @partypoison00 @hnryycvll @kevia1000 @a-really-bi-girl @soarocks @reid-187

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves #fanfic #47 ronin #kai from 47 ronin #smut #oneshot #requested

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allforhader · 4 years

Text

On Set

Bill Hader x M Trans Reader

[Reader is FTM]

Requested by: @beepbeepmotherfu

Warning: Langauge, Smut

“YOU REALLY FUCKING THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THE ACTIONS YOU JUST CONDUCTED?” Y/N snaps as Bill gave him a worried look.

“CUT!” The director exclaims. “Great job you two, we’ll work the other shots in an hour or two.” he says calmly as the crew calls in for the break.

Bill relaxes adjusting himself in his jacket before smiling at Y/N as he fans himself.

“You wanna cool off in my trailer, run lines?”

“Do you have that fan in your trailer? The one from home?”

“I do”

“Then let’s go” Y/N laughs taking bits of his costume off on the way over to the trailers with Bill. “Who the fuck wear layers in hell months called Summer?”

“Your character that desperately needs it” Bill laughs wrapping an arm around his shoulders kissing his temple.

Once they were settled in Bill’s trailer, Y/N propped himself in front of the fan after changing out of his character’s costume knowing damn well they are going to do the whole set up process over again. Bill sat on the couch going through the script again as Y/N took the script out of his hands before climbing into his lap.

“You know the couch is big enough for the both of us”

“Oh I know, but I prefer to sit here” Y/N smirks wrapping his arms around his neck feeling Bill rest his hands on his hips.

“We do have a hour and...a bit more” Bill states kissing Y/N’s neck soon feeling himself be pushed against the couch by Y/N.

“Then let’s have some fun” Y/N brought his hands down to the bottom of Bill’s shirt pulling it over his head, feeling him place his hands on his face kissing Y/N passionately.

Y/N parts from Bill giving him a smirk before climbing off his lap. Bill looks at him confused seeing him start to strip himself of his clothes. He admires for a moment watching Y/N prop himself onto the counter.

“You’re going to sit there or come and get it Hader” Y/N smirks watching Bill get up from the couch instantly exploring his torso with his hands bringing himself closer to the counter he was on.

“You know I’m going to make you feel good right?”

“Oh I know you are...”

Bill kisses him once more before moving to his neck. Y/N held Bill’s sides keeping him there as his hands trailed to his thighs. Feeling Y/N’s legs brush up against Bill’s as he shifts on the counter when Bill inserted two of his fingers in his entrance. Y/N moans the moment he felt his fingers curl and his thumb rub against his clit.

“Shit—“ Y/N bites his lip gripping onto the counter as Bill planted his lips once more on his neck gently biting.

Y/N held in his moans the best he could as he runs his hand through Bill’s hair feeling him remove his lips from his neck. He took his chances carefully pulling at Bill’s hair hearing him give off a moan.

“You like that huh?”

“Oh shut up” Bill groans quickly pulling his fingers out watching Y/N gasp at the action. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to have my fun” Y/N smirks hopping off the counter pushing Bill back to the couch before getting on his knees.

Y/N took his belt off before unbuttoning his jeans. Pulling them off along with his boxers until his dick spring out. Bill watches as Y/N began stroking his dick before leaning down placing his mouth around the head causing numerous moans to escape his mouth.

“Fuck...how are you t-this good” Bill moans holding his head back as Y/N was enjoying himself.

As he started to bob his head sucking on Bill’s dick, Y/N ran his free hand in between his own thighs giving himself a bit more attention. He moans on Bill’s dick when he felt Bill run his hand through his hair gently tugging at it.

“Fuck...l-let me fuck you”

Y/N suddenly deep throat causing a lingering moan to fully escape his lips before letting his dick slide out of his mouth. He licks his lips with a smirk, taking his fingers away from his entrance before getting up. Bill grabbed his hips pulling him onto his lap catching his mouth with his enjoying the kiss as Y/N aligns himself.

“God I love you...” Y/N manages to say as they continue to make out before finally sliding on top of Bill causing them both to moan.

“Shit—“ Bill held his hips as Y/N rode him rolling his hips.

Bill plants his lips on his once again causing Y/N to wrap his arms around his neck to help him stay there. He felt Bill dig his nails slightly into his hips, that’ll definitely leave a mark. The two were enjoying themselves when Y/N felt Bill tense up to the sound of someone knocking.

“Guys! We gotta start getting you back in makeup and costume. Director is planning a different scene”

“Can it fucking wait—“ Y/N whispers as Bill suddenly covers his mouth. He’s trying to keep them quiet so that the crew member can leave thinking they aren’t in there.

“Guys? Are you even in there?...” The crew member saw a bit of the light on which confused him.

Y/N glares at Bill before starting to move again causing him to moan but he tried not to. He stopped himself by biting down on the small exposed part of where his neck meets his collar bone.

“Shit...now I gotta go look for them” he states leaving the door to Bill’s trailer as Y/N held onto Bill when he stood to his feet still inside of Y/N.

“W-What are you doing?”

“There’s a bed. We’ve been on the couch and the counter. Might as well end it there” Bill states before resting Y/N onto the bed on the other side of the trailer, suddenly forcing all of himself into him.

A loud moan roared out of Y/N as he gripped onto Bill’s back, paying back to the nail digging into his hips. He felt himself getting close as Bill got faster with his pace making both their minds run wild.

“Fuck Bill—Please”

“You feel great—god” Bill moans suddenly pulling out after a few more thrusts before climaxing onto Y/N’s stomach. “Fuck...”

“God I just want to lay here....” Y/N pants relaxing there as Bill lays beside him.

“Wish we could stay here” Bill laughs a bit as Y/N rolls his eyes smiling.

After cleaning up and getting dressed...

“You’ll think they’ll notice?”

“Your leg hasn’t stopped shaking since we finished” Bill smirks as Y/N smacks his chest playfully.

“You really had to go hard that last stretch” Y/N laughs feeling Bill kiss his temple before sitting beside him.

“Means I did a good job” He states resting his hand on his trembling leg as Y/N couldn’t stop smiling.

#bill hader #bill hader gifs #bill hader x reader #sorry this took a while

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random-klance-drabbles · 5 years

Text

Their First Time

So I got a request to Keith’s and Lance’s first time. Keith is trans, but I will not be using afab language for him. This was really fun to write and I absolutely love this concept! Keith gets a little insecure, but Lance is reassuring! I hope you enjoy!!

*************************

The full body mirror couldn’t be more of a nuisance at this point, Keith looked back at his reflection, turning his waist. Grumbling about his “rolls.”

“How the hell am I supposed to get rid of these!”

Lance sighs from his place on the bed, “Babe, what are you talking about?”

Keith grumbles, ignoring Lance entirely. Lance sighs again, hoisting himself up, onto his feet. Wrapping his arms around Keith, he kisses the shorter males shoulder.

“Babe. What are you doing?” Their eye’s meet in the mirror, and Lance’s thought clicks.

Keith pulls Lance’s arms off his waist, but Lance turns him and wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders.

Keith doesn’t look at his boyfriend. Too scared to see disappointment. A small sliver of anger rises in Keith’s chest.

“Let go of me, Lance.” Huffing, Keith tried to pry his boyfriend’s arms off.

Lance doesn’t let go, instead, pulls Keith in for a hug.

“Dammit, Lance. I said let go.”

Lance simply hums and squeezes.

“I’m not letting go until you accept the hug.”

Keith groans, putting his arms around Lance’s torso. After a second, the tension in Keith’s shoulders disappear and Keith feels as if he can actually breathe.

“You’re a dick.” Keith huffs.

The vibrations of Lance’s laugh makes Keith smile.

“I love you, too. Grumpy.”

Keith mumbled something that couldn't be deciphered. Lance decided it probably wasn't anything good.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong? Or would you rather just cuddle?"

Keith's arms tightened around his torso and Lance knew the answer. Lifting Keith with a huff.

"Heh. Your workout routine has really been working hasn't it?"

Keith smiled slightly, priding himself in the muscle he has attained since increasing his work out routine.

"You really think so?" Keith looked Lance with a hopeful gaze.

Lance smirked. "I know so, babe. I could see the tone of your abs when you were looking in the mirror."

Keith’s smile widened, “Thanks, babe.”

Lance kissed Keith on the forehead, Keith playfully bat him away.

“No kisses for you. You picked me up when I could’ve just walked.”

Lance laughed, dumping Keith onto the couch. Keith landed with a quiet ‘oof,’

“You know,” Lance chuckled, “I’ve been in a cuddly mood today.”

Keith chuckled, “Is that so? I guess that's a good thing.”

Lance climbed into the bed, wrapping his arms around Keith's waist. “It’s always a good thing. And you love it.”

Keith chuckled, putting his hands over Lance’s. “So, how was your day?”

Lance kissed his boyfriend's nape. “Well, I trained with the most handsome man in the universe. And then I had lunch. Lastly, I came into our shared room to find you in a bad mood.”

Keith blew a raspberry, rolling his eyes. “Sounds like a boring day.”

Lance chuckled slightly. “Well, I liked it. I like spending time with my boyfriend. Is that a bad thing?”

Keith hummed in response. “I guess not, but I think I have a good way of making this day a little bit more.... fun?.” Keith flipped over, facing Lance with a smirk.

“Do you want to know what it is?” Keith asked slyly.

Lance’s smirk mirrored Keith’s. “I would love to know what it is.”

Keith slid down the bed without a word, pulling at Lance’s sweats in question. “Well, I was thinking of a little competition.”

Lance nodded. “Oh really? What kind of competition?”

Keith pulled down both Lance’s sweats and boxers, licking his lips. “Well, I was thinking whoever comes first has to clean the winner's lion.”

Lance chuckled, feeling cold air surround him. “Think you can win, Samurai?”

Keith smirked menacingly. “Oh, I know I can. Sharpshooter.”

Keith situates himself above Lance’s face, waiting for Lance to give the signal. “Tell me when you’re- AH! Hey! That’s cheating!”

Lance had licked a long stripe up Keith’s sex, causing the boy to shiver slightly. “Took to long to talk...”

Lance moaned as Keith kitten licked his slit. Lance drew his boyfriend's dick into his mouth and suckled, running his tongue over it.

“Oh, god... Lance. Please.” Keith’s thighs were already shaking from the only little simulation he was getting.

If Keith was going to in this, he had to crack out the big guns. So he relaxed his throat and took about three-fourths of Lance’s dick in one go. He moved his tongue and bobbed his head to Lance’s rhythm.

Lance’s hips stuttered slightly as Keith suckled on the tip. Sliding back down, and using his hand to cover the rest. “God your mouth is so perfect, baby. You like that?”

Keith hummed around Lance's dick, moaning from the praise. Lance went back to eating Keith out, thrusting his tongue in and out, and rubbing his dick.

Lance could feel the throbbing of Keith’s walls. But he could also feel his stomach clench with his climax. All of a sudden, Lance could feel Keith’s throat relax and felt his nose touch the base of his dick.

Lance came down Keith’s throat almost immediately. Gripping Keith’s thighs as he did so.

Keith lifted himself off of Lance’s face. “You’ve killed me. I’m dead. How did you even... You weren’t able to take my whole dick before. How?”

Keith chuckled slightly. “It’s called practice. I win. sharpshooter. You have to clean my lion.”

Lance groaned. “Fine. You win. But, let's take care of you first. I can go for another round in a few minutes.”

Keith huffed slightly. “I’ll never understand your refractory period.”

Lance chuckled as he stroke himself lightly, getting himself ready for his kitten. “So what position do you want?”

Keith thought for a moment. “I’ll be on my back. Feel like a pillow prince tonight.”

Lance nodded, “I’m completely fine with that.”

Keith laid his head on the pillows, spreading his legs. Lance laid on his stomach, continuing his meal. Licking another broad stripe up Keith’s sex, and sucking his dick into his mouth, swirling his tongue and then moving down sucking the juices off of his outer folds.

Keith moaned, pulling lightly at Lance’s hair. “Ah.. right there. sharpshooter. God, you’re so good at this.”

Lance moaned burying his face deeper into Keith, tasting him. Licking another stripe, then sliding two fingers into Keith’s front.

Keith moaned, clenching around those long fingers. Lance thrusted a few times, knowing full well where Keith’s favorite spot. He hit it almost instantly, causing Keith to shudder and moan.

Lance attacked that spot with no mercy and suckled on his boyfriend's dick. “Oh god! Lance! Please! Don’t stop!”

Lance sucked harder, rubbing Keith’s insides so good. Keith’s climax came suddenly, causing him to arch his back.

“Fuck!”

Lance rubbed him through the aftershocks. “That good, huh?”

Keith’s chest heaved, letting the warmth sweep over him. “Yeah. That good.”

Lance smirked, placing a kiss on Keith’s inner thighs. Keith looked down at Lance’s face. “Don’t worry, I can definitely go for another round.”

Lance laughed, pulling himself up to Keith’s face and stealing a kiss. “Good, because that was extremely hot.”

Keith laughed slightly, “Alright, sharpshooter. Let's see if you know how to use that dick as well as you use your mouth.”

Lance smirked, a challenge hanging in the air. He positioned himself, sliding in just the tip. Waiting for Keith to give him the okay.

Keith nodded bracing himself for the stretch. Lance moved another inch, pulling out slightly and then thrusting back in. The slide is surprisingly easy.

“Wow, you’re really wet babe,” Lance smirked, sliding another two inches in. Keith moaned, enjoying the stretch.

“Yeah, and you’re bigger than I thought.” Lance finally bottomed out, not moving to give Keith a chance to adjust.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight.” Keith moaned again, clenching around his dick.

“You can move... Please move.” Lance pulled out slowly, both moaning as he did so.

Pushing back in, he increased his speed slightly. Keith moaned, “Faster, please.”

Lance moved faster, but being so gentle. Keith groaned slightly, feeling himself clench again, “Babe, harder. Please.”

Lance smirked, loving the way Keith responded. “You got it, baby.”

Lance thrusted harder, aiming for that special spot, and brushing on every thrust. Keith moaned, wrapping his legs around Lance’s waist. Scratching anywhere he can reach.

“Fuck... I think I’m gonna cum again.” Keith moaned out.

Lance groaned into Keith’s neck, biting and sucking at the flesh he could reach. Moaning with every mark he left on porcelain skin.

“God, you’re so sexy, amor.” Lance moaned into Keith’s ear. Keith moaned at the pet name, clenching around Lance’s dick.

Lance chuckled lightly, “You like that? Like it when I call you love?” Keith nodded, moaning as Lance thrusted harder, hitting his g-spot head-on.

Lance could feel his climax coming, so he started rubbing tight circles on his boyfriend’s dick. The new sensation caused Keith to moan, arching his back.

His orgasm was right there. Teetering on the edge of torture as it built. Lance fucked him harder, hitting all the right spots. Whispering dirty nonsense in his ear.

“Come on, baby. Come for me.” Keith’s thighs locked around Lance’s waist as he came with a shout of Lance’s name. His thighs trembled with overstimulation as Lance fucked through his second orgasm.

Finally, Lance came. His hips stuttering to a stop. Groaning into Keth’s neck.

“Fuck... You did so good baby.” Lance moaned.

Keith winced as Lance pulled out. Feeling cum leak down onto the sheets. Lance laid down, pulling Keith to his chest.

“So... How was it for your first time?” Lance asked.

Keith laughed, “Fucking amazing. You?”

Lance kissed his temple. “It was fucking astounding.”

They both laid there for a moment. Until...

“We gotta take a shower.”

*************

Well! That took for-freaking-ever! But I’m not dead! I hope you liked it! I had such severe writer's block so I doubt it's consistent. I’ve been trying to improve my writing as well, so if anyone has any tips for me, I would love to see them! Thank you so much for reading!

#klance smut #klance #vld keith #vld #vld lance #bottom Keith #top Lance #trans keith #ftm trans character

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josephthropp · 4 years

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Steven Universe is fat. And his trans girlfriend, Connie Maheswaran, likes him like that. Whether he's all dressed up or in naught but a tiny little swimsuit.

Content warning for some body dysphoria and gender dysphoria. Full excerpt below the cut!

It had only taken a minute for him to get undressed and into his swimsuit. The pool was just downstairs, so he’d only intended to throw on a shirt and his sandals besides that. He’d gotten as far as picking up his shirt, only to end up stopping in his tracks when he’d caught a glance of himself in the mirror above the sink. Clad in nothing but that pink speedo, Steven found himself looking at his body, almost entirely uncovered.

Staring at himself from the side, his eyes were instantly drawn to his stomach. The way that it fell over the front of the swimsuit, with love handles falling off to the sides and additional folds rolling off his back. A clearly defined muffin-top all the way around, looking just as distended as the actual muffin he’d picked up for breakfast this morning. Staring at that part of himself for too long had naturally led his eyes to the rest of his body.

It was a self-destructive sort of decision when he was starting to think this way, but Steven turned to face the mirror head on anyway. Even without the profile view, he could see the faint pink and white lines that ran up and down his sides in seemingly random locations. Stubborn stretch marks that never left him, no matter how good and consistent he was with the cocoa butter treatments. Even worse was his chest, with flabby pecs that he wished so much would just recede just a little. They were so close to barely even making an impression in tight shirts, but not quite there yet.

Even if he’d been wearing the shirt already, the telltale signs of his size would still be there, of course. His neck was wide, with extra skin that would perpetually bother him, regardless of the fact that hardly anyone else would ever even notice it. His chubby cheeks were as much a Steven trademark as his dark curls by now. A trademark that he really resented in moments like this.

Ugh, need he go on? The loose skin under his arms and his excessively plush thighs were just icing on the cake as far as his little pity party of diminishing self-worth was concerned. It all added up to an image in the mirror he just didn’t want to look at anymore. Days like this didn’t happen very often, but it was just his luck one would happen the very day he and Connie were about to go swimming. One of the very few activities where he couldn’t just put on a shirt and pretend he was fine.

Maybe it would’ve been easier if he wasn’t in such a tiny little swimsuit. It was a dumb impulse buy anyway. The kind of thing that had made Steven go starry-eyed all of a sudden when he’d walked past it in the store, just knowing he had to have it. Never mind the fact that a situation like the one he currently found himself in was exactly what he should’ve considered before making the purchase.

There were probably other trunks of his in the Dondai. Anything else he could throw on. At this point, it wasn’t even about swimming for Steven. He just wanted to stay out of the water and in his clothes while sitting by the pool, pretty much only there for Connie’s sake so she could enjoy the pool date he’d promised her.

“Steven?”

Speak of the devil.

Connie’s voice came from the other side of the bathroom door, followed by a few gentle raps against it. Yep, he’d definitely been sulking around in here for too long. It was honestly a surprise that Connie hadn’t come to check on him until now. “Steven, are you okay?” She called again, knocking a little more insistently.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” He finally answered her, kicking himself for making her worry in the first place. This was his stupid problem, Connie didn’t deserve to be forced to help him try and fix it. She was such a good person though, of course she was going to end up doing that one way or another. “I’m sorry. I just got a little distracted.”

That excuse didn’t seem to fly with Connie. “Can I come in?” She asked.

Steven adjusted himself on the edge of the tub where he’d been sitting, reaching down to pick up his shirt off the floor. Didn’t want her tripping on her way in. “Okay.” He finally replied after a moment.

The door creaked open, but Steven didn’t look up right away. His eyes remained focused on the shirt in his lap, running his fingers over the fabric absentmindedly. Connie slid beside him without a word, taking a seat on the tub’s edge as well. Even without her speaking, Steven could just tell she was amping up to poke and prod at him.

“You’ve got your suit on. You gonna put on your shirt and your sandals?” Yep, there it was. The question was asked with such a light tone, clearly intending to sidestep around the fact that Steven was obviously avoiding doing those exact things.

He shrugged in response, looking to the side and noticing Connie’s bare leg brushing up against his. Her purple sandals were already on her feet, and a lacy white cover up was already thrown on over her one piece swimsuit. She was entirely ready to go, and here Steven was, keeping her cooped up inside the hotel room. Ugh, now he felt even worse.

Well, there was only so much of the silent treatment that Connie was going to put up with. When Steven didn’t give her a real answer, she didn’t hesitate to make her concern that much clearer. She reached for the shirt in his hands, gently tugging it out of his grasp. Without that distraction, he had to actually confront what she was saying.

“Steven, what’s up? You were so excited right before you came in here!” Connie scooted in a little closer, throwing his shirt aside before grabbing one of Steven’s hands while she looked to him with sad eyes. “Is something wrong? We don’t have to go swimming if you don’t want to.”

Oh, no. That was exactly what Steven didn’t want. Ruining something they’d planned, all because of his dumb insecurities. “No, I want to go swimming! Just let me finish getting ready.”

He stood from the tub, already looking around to see where he kicked his sandals to. Unfortunately, his attempt to play everything off still wasn’t sticking. Connie stood from the tub and trailed right after him, grabbing his shoulder before her could try and brush her off.

“Steven, forget swimming for a second! Talk to me about what’s bothering you before you worry about anything else!” Connie’s voice was desperate enough that Steven couldn’t hope to keep putting up walls. He had to concede in some way, however small.

With a sigh, he finally turned towards her, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke. “Do you think this swimsuit looks okay?”

The confusion that crossed Connie’s features was as good an answer as any. Obviously she thought he looked good, she had to. He was her boyfriend. “What? Of course it looks good! You’ve been wanting to wear it since you bought it a few weeks ago!”

Oof, yeah. Steven had already called Connie about his stellar find the day he’d picked it up. Trying to act like he’d just randomly had this whole about-face without any prompt or reason definitely wasn’t going to fly. He scrambled for anything that might qualify as a validation for why he was feeling this way now, but there weren’t many good reasons he could think of.

“I-I dunno, you don’t think it’s a little off on me? Like, the color?” He offered with a shrug.

“Steven, you love pink!” Connie didn’t back down. She took a step closer, reaching up to cup one of Steven’s cheeks in one of her hands. “Please, don’t make me fight you to get you to open up, Steven. I love you, you can talk to me.”

Welp, that was that. Once Connie decided to break out any form of vocal affirmations of love, Steven was toast. He didn’t have any choice left but to do as she asked and open up. He sighed again, slowly bringing a hand up to the center of his belly. Connie’s eyes followed, brow furrowing a bit as she watched him.

“Is it...your gem?” She asked.

Okay, let’s try that again. Steven’s hand dipped lower, grabbing the overhanging portion of his belly that spilled over the waistband of his speedo. That seemed to do the trick, judging how Connie’s eyes widened with clear realization.

“Oh. Oh!” She brightened once things really clicked with her, but her face fell soon after once the implications of that set in. “Oh, Steven.”

#steven universe #su fanfic #su fanfiction #connie maheswaran #trans connie maheswaran #body positivity

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erza-haninozuka · 4 years

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Hi! May I get Praise with Gajeel pls 👉👈🥺??? If your requests aren't open feel free to ignore me

Absolutely! Also you never specified what kind of reader insert you wanted. So I hate assuming, but I’m writing it as female reader and if you wanted it to be male or even trans reader just let me know and I’ll come back through and edit it! ^_^

Clothes littered the floor, falling like masses of snow on the gray, plush carpet.

Gajeel’s gaze followed down your frame, observing and taking in each imperfection and curve, admiring it all. He carefully sat on your shared bed, gripping your hips gently and pulling you between his legs, placing a gentle kiss to your stomach and chest before looking up into your eyes.

“Are you sure?”

You smiling softly, the hunger clear in your eyes as you pushed a hand into his hair, “I’m sure Gajeel.”

He nodded, helping you into his lap, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss.

You hummed softly, rocking yourself in his lap, your folds teasing his erection underneath you with each pass.

Gajeel groaned, hands gently squeezing your sides. “Quit teasing.”

“I will, let me just enjoy it a little while,” you hummed and gently pulled his hair, tilting his head and exposing his neck for you to bite into. Your teeth gently sank into his flesh as your ground yourself a little harder on him, making the dragon slayer moan.

His hold on you tightened, trying his hardest to keep from pulling you onto his cock and fucking you into oblivion, but this time you were in control.

You smirked, enjoying the sight of the mark you left behind. “Alright.” You hummed and easily adjusted, helping his member into your entrance as you slowly sunk down, taking him inch by inch.

You moaned softly in his lap, feeling the delicious burn as he stretched you open.

Gajeel hid his face in your neck, a soft moan pulling from his lips, “Take me so fucking well.”

Your face flushed more from the praise, your arousal and confidence boosting and pushing you to ride his cock. You took every inch of him with a rough force.

Gajeel moaned, bucking up when you rolled your hips, “So fucking good to me. Look at you riding my cock so well.”

You moaned, the sound of it getting louder when Gajeel gently bit into your breast, kissing the mark he’d left.

He groaned when he felt you clutch in response, “That’s it. Cum all over my cock, Baby. Fuck yourself on me.”

You whined, rocking your hips and fucking yourself on him even harder.

Gajeel smirked and rubbed your clit with his thumb, feeling you jerk at his touch.

He kept your pace as he rubbed circles into your bud, making you cry out when you came.

Gajeel quickly wrapped his other arm around you, keeping you anchored to him. Pulling his hand from between your bodies to thrust up into you, riding you through your orgasm.

“Good job, Baby.”

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love-and-monsters · 5 years

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Thalia the Naga and Damian the Drider

The third and final story of pride month, including two trans monsters! Hope you enjoy!

Thalia was nervous. She nibbled on her nails as she approached the medicine house with her mother.

“It will be all right,” her mother soothed. She took one of Thalia’s hands in her own and squeezed. “Moran knows what he is doing.”

“I’m not nervous about that,” Thalia said. Her mother looked down at her for a moment, then rested a hand on Thalia’s back.

“I’m sure he will be very nice,” she said gently. “And if he isn’t, you don’t have to spend much time with him.”

“I know,” Thalia said. “But I want to like him. I want him to be nice.”

“Well, the sooner you get there, the sooner you can meet him and the sooner you’ll know.” Thalia’s mother sped up, slithering faster across the ground. “Come along!”

Thalia slithered after her. Her long, green tail worked smoothly over the ground as she caught up.

“Is he a naga too?” she asked as she drew level with her mother.

There was a pause while her mother thought. “No, I don’t think so. He’s from a few towns over, nearer to the mountains.”

Thalia frowned. Her stomach rolled and knotted with a combination of nervousness and excitement. There was only one way to know what he was for sure. She sped up, lowering her torso to the ground to speed up her slithering.

The medicine house was large, built out of heavy, dark wood. There was a small wing off to the side where Moran lived, but the rest of the house was made for examining and treating patients. Strong smelling plants covered most of the front yard and crept up the sides of the house.

Even before Thalia’s mother lifted a hand to knock on the door, it opened. A tall, slender man stepped out. His skin was tinted green, thought it turned dark brown near his fingers. His hair was long, but tied up into a bun, and a deep green color. “Ah, there you are. Miss Anthea, Miss Thalia. I was just about to call for you. Mr. Damian arrived only a few moments ago.” He stepped back from the door, gesturing for them to enter. “Come on in.”

They stepped into the house and Moran led them to a large sitting room. It had several large seats and cushions on the floor. A table with snacks and tea sat int eh middle of the room. It was quite cozy and pleasant smelling.

“Damian,” Moran said, addressing the other person in the room, “meet Thalia, your partner for this procedure.”

Thalia looked across the room. The other person there seemed to be trying to shrink in on himself. He was pale and rather willowy from the waist up, with long, straight hair tied up in a loose ponytail. He hugged himself with his arms, only glancing at Thalia rather than looking her straight on. From the waist down, he was an enormous black spider, with eight thin, twitching legs.

“Hi,” Thalia said, holding out a hand toward him. “I’m Thalia.”

“I know,” he said quietly, voice rasping. “I’m Damian.” He shook her hand briefly, then returned to swaying slightly and hugging himself.

Moran clapped his hands together. “I need to get a few things set up before we begin. Miss Anthea, would you come with me?”

He left the room. Anthea gave Thalia a kiss on her head before slithering out after him. Thalia looked back at Damian. He was staring into the crackling fire in the fireplace, a distant look in his eyes.

“Did your parents come with you?” Thalia asked after a moment. Damian lifted his head and stared at her for a moment. His eyes were enormous and black and they reflected the firelight in an eerie way. Thalia felt a shiver crawl down her spine.

He didn’t answer for several seconds, long enough that Thalia started to feel nervous. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me. My parents are here. They just aren’t with me right now. We are more nocturnal.” He had a slightly stilted away of talking. Thalia wondered if he’d learned the language recently or if he didn’t have a lot of experience with it. He continued looking at her even after he was done speaking, like he was waiting for her to continue.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you anyway. I’ve never met a trans guy before. There aren’t a lot of trans people around here and the others are all girls. Which is nice, but we can’t do the transfer with another girl, so…” She trailed off. Damian turned fully toward her, moving his torso and body so that they were pointed to her. He was still hugging himself, but he’d stopped swaying.

“I’ve never met another trans person before,” he said. Thalia lifted herself up, rearing slightly with surprise.

“Really? I mean, we’re not that uncommon. Did you live in a really small town or something?”

Damian shook his head. “Not exactly. I didn’t grow up in a town. Driders live as family units. I have several brothers and sisters, but I don’t talk to many people outside my family much.” He looked around the house for a moment. “This is the first time I’ve ever been in another town. Well, outside of my family’s land. It’s a large plot of land, but still. It is strange to be here, with so many other people.”

Thalia stared at him. “You’ve never been to a town before?” He shook his head. “Then I have to show you around! You can stay for a little while after the treatment, right? It’s right in the middle of market season, so there’s a lot of fresh food around.”

Damian blinked at her, skittering his legs like he was startled. “Market season?”

“It’s harvest time for a lot of the farmers, so there’s a big market that goes on where people buy and sell stuff that they grow or make. It’s the best time of year! If you’ve never been to a market before, you’re going to love it!” Thalia couldn’t help her voice rising in excitement.

Damian’s mouth twitched into a small smile. His legs settled, only the front pair ticking gently against the floor. “I haven’t ever been to a market before,” he said. “I suppose I could come with you after, if you’re willing to have me.”

Thalia grinned, tail tip waving. “Sure! I’d love to show you around.”

Moran bustled back into the room, holding a large book and a pair of necklaces. “Here,” he said, handing one to Thalia. “And one for you as well.” He passed the second one to Damian. Thalia pulled the necklace on over her head. It was a long chain that hung down her torso, almost to her waist. The symbol at the end of the chain was made of some sort of swirling pattern that was actually rather hard to look at. It seemed to shift when she tried to focus on it directly and her eyes kept automatically drifting away from it. She could feel the magic buzzing against her skin.

“If the two of you could just step forward and grasp each other’s hands,” Moran said, guiding them together. Thalia took Damian’s hands in her own. His fingers were long and felt rather spindly and delicate. She felt like if she squeezed them too hard, they would break. “Very good. Now just hold still and relax. It’ll only take a moment.”

His flipped through the book in his hands for a moment, eventually settling on what was apparently his preferred page. He licked his lips, then started reading in a low, firm voice. The words were difficult to make out and they seemed to echo in Thalia’s head. Damien seemed to be thinking the same thing, as he frowned and twitched his head from side to side.

The necklace around Thalia’s neck pulsed and she felt energy buzz through her body. It centered around the necklace, then stretched up toward her hands. The energy buzzed at her fingertips and she could feel it stretching out of her body and into Damian’s. At the same time, she could feel a surge of different energy prickling at her fingertips, a surge of Damian’s energy entering her own body.

It only lasted about a minute. Then Moran stopped chanting and Thalia felt one final buzz wash over her as the spell ended.

Damian, who had closed his eyes, blinked them open. His legs twitched and shifted. “I don’t feel very different,” he said. He looked at Thalia, but she just shrugged.

“It will take a few sessions for the new energy to take root in your body,” Moran said, looking thoroughly unconcerned. “Once it does, you will need less transfers to maintain a masculine form. But the sex swapping spell does work. The two of you will now be able to have bodies that conform to your true genders.” He smiled at them encouragingly. “We’ll continue this every three days for the next two weeks and that should me enough for the energy to take root. After that, one treatment every two months should be sufficient.”

Thalia dropped one of Damian’s hands, but remained holding to the other one. She turned to Anthea, who had entered the room in the middle of the transfer. “Can we go to the market, Mom? Damian’s never been to one before.”

Anthea smiled. She looked at Moran, who made a sort of waving gesture with his hand. “All right, we can go. Don’t forget to give Moran those necklaces back. I’m sure he worked hard to make them.”

Thalia handed hers over, Damian following suit only a moment later. “I’ll see you in a few days,” Moran said as he collected the necklaces. “Have fun.” Still holding Damian’s hand, Thalia slithered from the house, her mother trailing languidly behind them.

True to his word, after the next few treatments, both of them started noticing the changes in their bodies. Damian stopped growing, assuming the smaller size of male driders. Thalia developed breasts and her voice assumed a more feminine tone. It was a particularly bright moment when the pair of them were able to bond over their colors fading. Damian had a bright scarlet patch on the pack of his spider body and patches of red marked Thalia’s scaly lower body. As their bodies readjusted, both of them were able to see their colors fading away, Damian’s to black and Thalia’s to a dusty, yellow-brown. As they grew together, into their early twenties, Damian moved closer to town, both to be closer tot eh treatments, to avoid having to travel constantly, and also to be closer to Thalia.

It was approximately seven years since they’d initially met, both of them twenty-one and officially adults in their culture. The summer night was pleasantly warm, with a slight cool breeze. Thalia stretched out on her back in the grass, arms behind her head. Her thick, curly hair tickled her skin and she could feel the poking of grass against her back. Damian was next to her, sitting with his legs tucked under him, skimming through a book under the dim light of the moon. Thalia was always impressed by how well he could see in low-light. Her eyes were much more limited in the dark.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, staring at him out of the corner of her eyes. She saw him shift and his eyes dart over to her before refocusing on his book.

“Have you?” he said in a tone that suggested some playful curiosity. Thalia nodded. She licked her lips, trying to stifle the flutter of nerves that churned in her stomach.

“About what I’m going to do now that I’m an adult,” she said. Damian looked at her with some interest that time and she hurried on. “I think I want to be an adventurer.”

Damian didn’t look surprised, but his brows furrowed a little, like he was concerned. “An adventurer?” he repeated. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” Thalia replied. “I’ve lived in this town my whole life. I want something exciting to do.” She rolled over, off her back, and reared up. “I want to go out and look at the world and help people! I want to do something important and make a name for myself!”

Damian furrowed his brows a little more and fiddled with a page in his book. “What about the transition spell?”

“Moran taught me how to do it a few days ago. I’ll be able to perform it on my own whenever I need.” Thalia coiled her tail up. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. This is something I want to do.”

“And what about me?” Damian asked.

“I talked to Moran already. He can set up another partner for you if you need.”

“No.” Damian stood up. He was slightly shorter than Thalia, especially when she was fully reared up, but he could still look her solidly in her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. We’ve been partners for so long and it’s not just… it’s not just the spell. You’re just leaving me now?”

Thalia looked away from him. “Well, I wasn’t just going to leave. I’ve got a few months before I was planning on going. And I didn’t just bring this up to say goodbye.” Damain clicked his legs on the ground, but gestured for her to keep going. “I’m bringing this up to you because I want you to come with me.”

Damian’s legs stopped twitching against the ground. He stared at her. “You want me to go on a wild adventure with you?” he asked. He sounded like he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not she was messing with him.

“Well, yeah. You were saying it yourself, we’ve been partners for a long time. We’ve been friends for so many years now. I don’t want to go off by myself, and I don’t know anyone else I’d rather be with.”

Damian’s cheeks gradually took on a faint shade of pink and his legs started twitching more. “You want me to go with you? But I’m not as tough as you are. I don’t know much about how to handle weaponry or surviving.”

“Yeah, but you’re good at other things! You’ve been getting better at magic and you’re a lot better at dealing with people than I am.” Thalia reached out and took his hands. They were just as delicate and thin as they’d been when they first met, but now when she took them, he automatically squeezed them back. “We’re partners. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you.”

Damian’s eyes closed for a moment, then he leaned forward and rested his head on her shoulder. Thalia felt him shiver slightly, and she wasn’t sure whether it was laughter, a sob, or some strange combination of the two. “I have to think about it,” he said, “and talk to my family. But I think… I think I would like to be with you.”

Thalia ran her fingers through his silky hair. “I wouldn’t leave you,” she said. Damian breathed out gently onto her shoulder. Thalia took a deep breath as he nestled in against her side. “We’ll be together, always.”

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster girlfriend #naga #drider #lgbt

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