#dev patel fic

[royalsunshinehotel]

How Can I? (The Kid x Reader, 18+)

Author's Note: Inspired by Taylor Swift's "Guilty As Sin?" from an inbox request. Thank you to my intrepid editor, and dearest friend @youlooklike-clarabow. You're the best ❤️‍🔥😭🤠🍊

The forest had welcomed him back, just like he’d hoped. Four months after Kid had taken his revenge, it had welcomed him home, as if it missed him, and it had taken him back, and taken in the hijras, as if all of you had always been there. Beating Rana to death had brought Kid back to life. He hoped that you and Sita felt the same. 

Sita had been focused on farming the land, showing off her green thumb after years away from any kind of dirt, and Alpha, it felt, had retired. She had a rocking chair and would look over the makeshift village, from dawn until dusk, every single day. 

And then there was you. Your hand was the one Sita reached for when she ran out to the back alley of Kings. Covered in blood, but together through it all. He had saved your life, rescued the two of you from the Queenie’s black stiletto heels standing on your necks, forcing you to do things you didn’t want to do. He should leave you alone, he shouldn’t want you the way that he does. 

When was the last time he’d had such a luxury? He laid on his sleeping mat, bored bored bored, deep in his bones. 

He hadn’t realized exactly how mentally caged he had been, but now he was free. What was left to do? 

He’d learned about how you longed to throw yourself to the ocean rocks for the chance at freedom, and how grateful you were for him coming to break all of the locks with a chaotic flair. 

He wanted you to be his- from the first moment he laid eyes on you. It was a difficult thing to admit. He’d have wonderful - shockingly vivid dreams about a world where your attachment was written everywhere on you, walking into a room and people know your his. The same for him of course, he’d want everyone to know he’s yours. 

But why on earth would you agree to it? You’d been a bird in a horrible, dank little cage, why would you toss yourself to the likes of him, after all you’d been subjected to? 

Such thoughts could live in dreams, he supposed. 

Across the camp, you're in the branches of a banyan tree, sitting snugly, safely in its branches. You kick your feet, and bob a little, hoping to shake some fruit loose, but alas, the figs aren't ripe yet. Maybe some more sun the next week would do it. What a treat that would be! 

You enjoy seeing the whole camp from up high. Deep in the heart of the woods, you’re all here, together. 

It was remarkable, you think, how you had all been able to come together and make a home. It would be a true village with more time, but the fact that everyone from the temple, plus those left standing after King’s, all had their own shelter, and were working together for food and water…it was remarkable. 

You flash in your mind, on Kid, watching him a little too closely as he weaved some smaller branches to make a door. 

His arms were lovely, even to a strange woman in a fig tree. A flash of heat hits your face, as you imagine those arms around you. In dreams you’d been having, you take a fistful of dense, curly hair, and pull. Would he like it? Would he tell you to fuck off? 

You kick yourself, and then you kick yourself for kicking yourself. Just a passing thought of his arms, and you were practically panting in the early summer heat. 

Sitting up in your tree, you thought of all the men you allowed to touch you, how you faked smiles and orgasms like it was nothing. And then he’d just come bowling into your life with the spark of a firework, letting you know it didn’t have to be like that anymore. 

Even if you did put your hands on him, touch him in the ways you wished to, would you know how? Would you know how to feel for him? 

In your mind, you’d already felt all of him, to your heart's content and beyond…

Sita had said no one would send you to jail for your thoughts, but it certainly felt that way. You hadn’t even touched him - where did all this guilt come from? Did you really need to keep your longing for Kid locked in a vault? 

Queenie had locked passport, your money, everything you were, into a vault -  he was far too kind to be put in there. 

Still, you did intend to be loyal to him, even if it was entirely one sided.  You spoke to him only when necessary, and would continue to do so until this burning itch underneath your skin - ur desire, faded. It had to, right? 

“Kanna, come here please!” called Alpha, voice clear and smooth, summoning you down from your perch, and you oblige her, moving slowly. 

You trot over, feet feeling heavy on the grass, “Yes, Alpha?” 

She takes your hand, and you link your fingers, admiring the manicure Sita had given her earlier that week. 

“You fantasize. I can see it from down here.” 

“I’m not sure what you're saying.” 

“Your fantasies are no longer fatal, and neither are Kid’s. He’s free of the past, still, he does not sleep. You should perhaps see if he is alright?”

As if on cue, a groan floats through the air, towards the two of you. 

“And do what?” 

“Make sure that his past stays gone?” She suggests, not verbalizing what she’d observed these past months. 

Your brow furrows. Kid would have to settle for a cup of water, and a bite of tangerine before settling back to sleep. That’s what your mother always gave you for your nightmares, why wouldn’t it work here? 

You make the quick journey, waving goodnight to Alpha, but stalling at the door of Kid’s hut. 

Another low groan. 

If it had been daylight, you would have had it in yourself to admit to the fluttering in your belly, but you wouldn’t. The desire would subside, for now you have to see if he’s well. The light of the moon makes your path clear. 

You take a breath, before opening the door. 

It’s night. It’s dark - the moon only gets you so far. 

And yet, you still find him, in the corner, on his sleeping mat, flat on his back. A low, almost imperceptible whine reaches your ears, and you furrow your brow. That didn’t seem like a nightmare, was he sick? 

You crouch down next to his sleeping body, and place a cool hand on his forehead, just to feel him. 

It wasn’t in Kid’s nature to feel casual annoyance, but if he could have, he would have been. In the midst of a wonderful dream, inspired by a bead of sweat he saw glistening in the hollow of your clavicle that morning, he was now dreaming about you - again, same as every night. 

In his dreams, you fall apart under his palms, scratching desperately at his back, and you beg for more. In his dreams, you're a desperate, sweet little thing, not much different from him. Another self-indulgence, thinking of a world where you want him as badly as he wants you. 

He jerks awake - where have you gone? He feels movement right beside him, and reflexively grabs it, a tight grip on your wrist.

“Jaanu, come back to bed.” His eyes are wide, still asleep in his mind. You crouched beside him, stunned at his words.

Alpha had said he was having a nightmare. He was neither sick, nor having a nightmare…

He was dreaming! About the two of you! 

Heat rushes to your face, like a paintbrush in water. 

“Back to…” You pause, “Yes, I’ll come back to bed.” Kid grunts at you, not giving your wrist back.  

He’s still in his own head, he doesn’t realize that you’re truly here. 

You allow him to pull you in, sighing as he tucks you into his side. 

God, he felt better than you imagined. 

You hold on to him, as his breathing slows, and you run your hands over a warm, flat stomach, tracing hearts there, for hours and hours. 

You wake slowly, for the first time in years. A light brushing of warmth against your cheek. You crinkle your nose, slowly blinking, and remembering where exactly you were. 

Your head is resting on his arm, his hand on your waist, in real life. 

He’s looking over at you, brown eyes round, his mouth just inches away from yours. Over the past few months, his beard had gotten unruly, you slowly place a hand under his chin, to pet the new growth. 

“Are you really here?” He rasps, voice soft with sleep, you let out a little sigh of relief. 

“Yes, I didn’t want to wake you, Alpha was worried, and you grabbed my wrist so I just…stayed.” You explained, trying not to seem flustered. 

“You're here, not just in my dreams.” He practically whispered, bringing up a palm to your cheek, same as you had for him. It had taken a couple of weeks to hear from Alpha about why Kid’s hands were the way they were. Kid had learned to live with the fact that his roots had been burned away, but as his hand touched your face, it certainly didn’t feel like that. 

You think about his lovely hands. Regardless of any fire, any destruction they may have wrought, any scar tissue that grew there had only served to free you and the women at King’s. You like his hands. 

“I want to kiss you. Can I?” Your voice shook, but you said those words anyway. You should be proud of yourself. 

Kid nods his head, letting you inch forward, brushing your noses together. Something in his stomach flips, and you brush your mouth against his. Soft, almost delicate, the same way a leaf meets the ground in the fall. 

Oh - you think. 

You kissed him, like you had been longing, dreaming of doing, and nothing horrible happened! The stars were still in the sky, the rivers were still running, the trees still stood tall, protecting your village…

“I want you. Do you feel the same?” You ask him again, not sure where this confidence had come from. Maybe it was the fact that you were here, and so close to what you had wanted…

“I only sleep because it’s where I might find you.” Something goes plink in your heart, and you decide enough is enough. 

“Well wake up,” you tease, “I’m right here.” 

Something flashes across Kid’s face, and he pulls you back in. It’s hard not to fold completely as he rolls you carefully on to your back, he just feels too good. Even with the low light coming into the hut, it felt as if Kid had been drizzled in gold. 

“I want more,” you command between kisses, his beard tickling your face. 

“We have to be quiet,” he responds, clearly getting distracted. You had to get him out of his own head. It was ridiculous, someone with a past as checkered as his. He wanted to be with you always, be something you could crush under the heel of your boot if it pleased you. He only wants to please you. And now that he is getting the chance, he does exactly that. 

He works his way down, ignoring the sticky summer heat, until he settles comfortably between your legs. 

How lovely! How comfortable it was to lie here with you. Your body under his felt so surreal, soft and comfortable. Your hands on his shoulders. 

When he has the time, he decides that he’s going to put each one of your fingers in his mouth, just for the sake of feeling every part of you. 

How strange, how new it was! The desire to feel all of someone; to lay here on top of you and hope gravity might keep him here as long as possible. 

He says nothing and hums into your soft thighs, stray hand wandering to push your cotton shift up slowly, higher and higher. You love him for that -  that he’s giving you so much time to stop him, to call it all off, but you don’t. 

Kid runs a rough palm over your heat, and begins to shake at the contact. 

“May I?” He asks, polite as ever. 

You reply, a simple “Yes.” 

Gently, slowly, Kid nudges your legs apart, smiling, before taking an experimental taste. 

It was embarrassing how you jerked into him, like an electric shock. 

Something darkened across his face, that set your hair on end in the best way, and he dove in headfirst. 

He flicks his tongue on your clit, chuckling against you as you twitch under the attention, “Do you like that?” He asks, and you nod, losing your thoughts. 

Your heart leaps to your throat as the rough pad of his thumb meets your clit, rubbing a heart shape. 

“Answer me!” He urges, growly, and it makes you want to smack him. 

“Yes!” You squeak, a little too loudly, sitting up on your elbows. Kid stifles a laugh behind his hand as he rests a palm on your stomach to soothe you. He didn’t know you as one to squeak! You pout, just because you can, and he grins at you, leaning up for a kiss to your pouty mouth. 

“Poor birdy,” he coos, “we should go deeper into the woods, where we can be as loud as we like.” 

The thought makes your hair stand on end, being truly alone, together. The tantalizing thought fades as he ducks his face back down, into you. As he works, spreading the warmth of his mouth over you, it was hard to remember why you ‘had to be quiet’. How would that be possible? Flicking his tongue, you twitch again, relishing the attention he was giving so freely.

“Would you like more?” He hums, vibrations tearing right through you. 

“Y-yesyesyes, more please.” His rough palms roam over you at a leisurely pace, his mouth back to your clit. You should be quiet, you try so hard to be quiet, but Kid’s sucking and slurping unnerves you. You can’t control yourself for long. 

You want to beg him to grab you harder, like you might float away if he doesn’t, but you just can’t find words beyond, “Want you…” 

“Do you promise?” Kid murmured into your leg, tugging the soft flesh there lightly with his teeth, “I don’t want to pressure you.” Please please please, he thinks. 

“I promise,” you pant, pussy still fluttering, “Wanted you since I first saw you…” Your voice dies off, as he comes up to kiss you on the mouth, like he missed you. 

“I was covered in blood.” 

“A few more days and you could be again.” You freeze at your own words. Queenie always kept the girls on lockdown when it was that time. Kid was different. 

“Don’t tempt me, jaanu. I should keep you in my arms until then.” It’s a threat. It’s a promise. It’s everything you’ve been dreaming about for months…

But the idea of Kid with your monthly blood on his face was something else entirely…

Your thoughts are cut off again, but Kid takes your hand, resting it above your stomach. Your fingers intertwine, naturally. 

“Can I get you ready for me?” 

“Do it.” Your voice is firm, and certain, and he absolutely adores you for it. 

The look on your face through the rising light makes his hair stand on end. 

Your eyes flutter shut as Kid traces your needy hole with his fingers. How could you have known that he’d be so gentle with you? What exactly had you been making yourself feel bad about? 

You bite down a moan as he works one finger in, slowly, letting you feel every ridge, relishing as you try to squirm closer to his hand. 

No. 

You’ll take what he gives when he gives it, he thinks but then he revises, You will get everything he had, but not quite yet. 

He pauses, letting you get used to his digit, only starting to move when you pant. You're too stiff, he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want it to be like before, he wants it to be better. 

It’s hard not to melt, so you allow yourself the pleasure. 

Who was he really? Did it even matter? 

“Alright, Jannu?” He asks, and you take a grip on his shoulder, nodding ‘yes.’ 

And then, he starts to move. 

It had been years since someone’s hands had worked you so thoroughly, and you simply had to enjoy it. He simply had to pull you closer, with his two fingers, other hand palming your breasts, to your thrill, in a less gentle manner than the rest of you. 

He was simply petting you, playing with you, of course you had to purr. You couldn’t imagine anything else. Everything in your life has led you here, with him, to be underneath him. 

Faster and faster and faster, and then. Nothing. 

“Shh. Just hold on for me.” 

Kid takes his hand from you, and you whip your head up, face ravenous. 

All he offers you is a “Sorry, not yet.” You should slap him, but the emptiness he’d left turned into an ache. How could he do this? Even for a moment? 

You whine, and Kid thinks he might die if he doesn’t fuck you how you deserve. 

“It’s alright, I’m here. I’ll make it better, hm?” Your lover shifts above you, and you feel his cock nudging at your folds. The giddiness of it all goes straight to your head. 

“Need you!” You are keen, rolling your hips into him, hoping to catch something, anything to grant relief. But the only thing that could help is him. 

“Slowly, not too much now.” He cautions, but you can't. You simply can’t. Months of dreaming, waiting, lusting, handling the overwhelming guilt you didn’t ask for? No more waiting.

You pant, and he greedily breathes in your air, inching into you, measured and careful. 

No. No more. 

You take a cruel grip on his ass, and pull him down into you, losing yourself for either a moment or an hour. 

He pants, sounding desperate to keep himself together. Maybe that wasn’t the wisest move, maybe he’d been going sooooo slooow for his sake as much as yours…

Kid is seated completely inside you, running his rough palm over the bulge he was making in your lower tummy. How quickly a life can change, he thinks, he was asleep, and now he’s here, above you, feeling exactly how deep he can fit inside you. 

Your vision had gone white at the edges, he just felt too correct. Perhaps you should keep him hostage here, always. Kid lets out a low whine, pathetic and beautiful, and you feel your skin buzz so loud, you're certain he could hear it. 

He has to move. Or you might die. 

But carefully, he rolls into you, making you dig into him. He catches your wanton moan in his mouth, trying to soothe you in spite of his actions. Your words are gone…

“Good girl, do you like that?” He asks, as if you could respond, “Do you want more?” 

You nod your head, drunkenly, and he snaps down again. You grip him even tighter, and he puts his mouth back on yours. 

It’s just too desperate, does he know how badly you need him?  

“Harder! Harder please.” You beg, eyes round and unfocused on anything other than the harsh pleasure he was giving you. 

“More more more!”

Kid goes after your breasts, teasing with his hot mouth, bringing you closer with each shallow breath he takes. 

You stifle a wail in his shoulder, fighting desperately. As soon as you bare down around him, it’s over. You don’t want to be over…

Kid seems to know this, watching you intently, same as always. You fight off your orgasm, defiant and determined, fluttering tightly around him, the least he could do is do the same. 

But it’s simply too much, you knew you were going to scream. You couldn’t, it was too early, everyone would know. 

You run a hand up the side of his face, catching his beard, feeling hair stuck to his forehead from the humidity. His eyes blank, absolutely lost in the throes of you, your squelching and whines burned into his bones forever. 

He holds you as you scrabble at his back, eyes rolling, not losing his pace for a moment, only gasping into your ear as you finally clench down, fluttering around him, only coming back to reality when your teeth meet his chest and bite down, muffling the sound. 

Your teeth meeting his flesh, makes him lose his composure. He moans beautifully in your ear, your teeth still in his chest, reflexively gripping you harder as he spills deep inside. You kick your legs up higher around his torso, so you could keep him trapped against you. 

Kid pants into your mouth, murmuring all the sweet things he’d been keeping to himself. He’s free now, you both are. 

But still, neither of you move, holding on to each other, and it must be heaven. 

Someone has to move first. He should start some tea for you. He should start to show you how he was ready for the rest of his life now, with you. 

But it’s not to be, the second Kid pulls out, you kick his rear with the heel of your ankle. All of your shared mess seeps out of your worn out body. Not yet. He’s too far away. It couldn’t be over yet…That’s not allowed, you decide. 

“No. Put it back.” You command. 

Kid has the nerve to bat his eyes at you, and obliges, face flashing with something you couldn’t place. 

He holds you tight, and the two of you let the quiet soak in from the window. With you here, it wasn’t a hut, but a proper house. 

His heart is about to beat out of his chest, the sheer weight of your eyes on his, it feels like an honor to be here with you. 

The evidence of your rendezvous was hot and sticky between your legs. Kid was surprised that there seemed to be so much, and he didn’t mind one bit. Maybe he could take you down to the river to clean up, and care for you properly. Maybe the two of you wouldn’t be missed. 

You close your eyes, and something flips in the Kid's chest. 

“What is it you want?” He asks, forehead pressed against yours, “Ask for the moon and I’ll pull it down for you.” You squirm under the intensity of his stare, he was simply too beautiful and overwhelming. 

“I choose you and me.” 

“You can have it.” He gives you a peck, smiling into you, but quickly furrowing into concern. .

“Wait Jannu, it’s alright, what’s happened?” You stifle a small sob at the overwhelming softness of his tone. 

The fist around your heart clenches, as you feel a wet trail down your face, to your jaw. 

When was the last time you were allowed to cry? 

You huff a little, to yourself, and bring him in for another sweet kiss, languid and comfortable. He brings the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, clearing the tears away.  You take a fistful of his hair, and bring him in close, limbs intertwined, safe together. 

“I’m happy. I’m so very happy.” And you cry a little more, because it’s true. 

[chaithetics]

Where to Put My Hands

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x plus size f (afab) reader Prompt: Reader having a fixation on him and his hands and him doing something about it. Word count: 1.4K (I tried to keep it concise lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff/comfort, smut. Reader doesn't have any other physical descriptions other than being plus size. Not proof/ beta read. A/N: I'm so excited to share our first Fics for Palestine! (Learn more at that post) Our kind donator has wished to remain anon but a massive thanks to them! I hope you all enjoy this Monkey Man fic!!! Let's keep rising Dev hive! Comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! 🫶 P.S. Keep doing what you can to support Palestine! It's all important, whether it's donating, contacting your local and relevant political reps, sharing and engaging with resources and posts, showing up to local events etc. Here is a post I made with free things to do from home to help Palestine. Much love 🖤❤️🤍💚

Kid and you were lying down, he was a man of few words, even in tender moments. But you weren’t bothered, you’re holding one of his hands with both of yours, running your fingers over him. Every side of his hands and then up his forearm, exploring every inch of skin. With each day of your relationship, you’d been able to warm up a part of him that had been shut off for so long. 

He looked at you as you focused on his hands, your favourite body part of his. While you’d melted him, his hands and everything they could do had continued to melt you (in their special way) more and more each day as well. His brown eyes were warm as he took in all of you, how your eyes were fixed on his hands, the gentle touch of your hands, how the sweet smile you wear makes your full cheeks look, how your soft arms looked in the evening light. His beautiful personification of peace. 

“Is it weird that I just want to be seen by you?” His voice is quiet, it often is, and there’s a vulnerable look on his face, his eyes searching for reassurance. There’s something so warm and comforting about being in this relationship but it’s an extremely new and vulnerable feeling for him. 

“Not at all.” You whisper as you rub his wrist gently with your forefinger and thumb. “I see you.” you respond as your gaze turns to him and you smile. 

He smiles at that, clearly feeling comforted in the unexplored waters he’s swimming deeper and deeper into each day. Kid moves and presses a soft kiss to your lips, slowly deepening it as he moves his hand out of yours so he can cup your full cheeks. 

You’d initially relaxed easily into the kiss and were content with it, that was until he’d moved his hand. It was pretty rude considering it had been a strong fixation of yours lately, something he knew. “Hey,” you whispered, “I wasn’t done playing with your hands.” You whisper in a voice that sounds almost annoyed, he tries to distract you with another deeper kiss. 

“Really?” His voice has a slightly playful tinge. “Do my hands belong to you now, jaan?” 

“Yes. It’s in the relationship rules.”

“Well I better put them to good use, I suppose…” He leaned back and then sat on his ankles as he looked at you. “Because I don’t know where to put my hands...” He teases you but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. Oh, how those big brown orbs mesmerise and melt you. 

Kid uses his knee to spread your legs out and then moves so he’s kneeling between them. He caresses your soft jawline for a moment, his fingers gently holding your chin for a moment as his free hand starts to run along your thick thighs. You breathe in a sharp inhale as you look at him, you know what’s going to happen but each cell in your body is buzzing with anticipation still. 

You watch him with bated breath as he runs his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his eyes are looking at his hands as he explores this intimate area of you. His hand that had gently been holding your chin let go, letting his fingers fall, travelling over your chest, where he gave your left breast a squeeze that made you gasp and bite your lip. 

His hands then glide along the smooth, softness of your round stomach he runs his fingers along where stretch marks and moles are and he takes a soft breath in as he looks up at you. He moves his hand over to palm you above your underwear, you let out a small whine and your head falls back. His left hand massages the plump flesh of your thigh as he continues to palm and move his hand along above your underwear, teasingly.

“Please…. Please…” You beg in desperation as your hips thrust up to try and meet his hand. To be buried against it, in desperate need of more friction and pressure. A need only he can satisfy.

He can hear the neediness in your voice, he can feel it radiating off of you, and he can feel it against his hand. He quickly pulls your underwear down, lifting one of your legs slightly so it’s off and just hanging around the other one. He moves his hands closer to your needy hole, dancing around your inner thighs for a moment. You breathe in shakily as the feeling almost tickles. 

You watch him as he palms you once again, his other hand is now gripping your round hips, starting to run his fingers around your vulva, slowly along your folds to tease you, watching your reaction. Amazed at the power he has over your body, his ability to please you with just his hands. His fingers were touching every part of you but your hole that wanted to swallow him, or your clitoris. 

Kid can see the need in your eyes, how you're looking at him letting out soft moans and gasps as he teases you. 

“Look at you, good girl… such a good girl…” He whispers in that voice that makes you let out a small whine as he rubs your bundle of nerves in a circular motion with his thumb. 

He continues and then slips a finger into your hole, it’s barely in, just a teasing taste as he watches you. Drinking in your reaction, the way your back arches and then comes back down as your hips thrust up to try and swallow more of him, to feel him deeper inside of you. Kid obliges and quickly moves his finger in deeper which pulls the sweetest moan out of you that makes him smile. 

You let out a chorus of moans growing louder as you feel him move his finger deeper and deeper as he moves it back and forth, it’s at this point that he inserts another finger which makes you whine and close your eyes. It’s an incredible sight to him as he watches this. He moves his fingers at the most perfect rhythm that he knows will bring you closer. 

He moves a hand to squeeze your breast again, to run it along your nipple as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you. You’re whining as it’s building up deliciously, in an overwhelming way. He brings his hand back down and he starts to give your clitoris more attention again, just as it deserves. He rubs your clitoris faster, applying a little more pressure which makes you cry out. “Does that feel good? Do my hands feel good? Is this what you wanted, what you were thinking about before?” He asks as he keeps going faster and building to that rhythm that he knows is going to make you release. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You whine out as you nod frantically, you have one hand gripping his shoulder as he keeps moving. All you can think of is his touch and you know you’re on the edge, he’s bringing you there and you’re whining louder. “Go on, be a good girl…” He says as he keeps this current pace of pumping, he’d slipped a third finger in and he’s now giving equal attention to both your sweet spot of nerves and your vagina equal attention. He’s urging you to release, he knows your close. You nod and whine out as you know you’re almost there. He continues and it feels perfect, your back starts to arch as you feel your eyes roll back as you claw his shoulder and come. You come hard and it’s perfect, equally what you knew his hands would give you. Exactly what you’d been fantasising about as you’d held his hands earlier. 

You let out a deep breath, Kid gives you some time to recover from that release but he spends the rest of the night praising you as he gives you exactly what you wanted. Showing you just how he can use his hands and how good they feel.

[demigoddessqueens]

WHISPERED CORNERS

A/n - finally got around to watching Monkey Man and I loved this movie!! Go watch it if you haven’t yet!

SUMMARY: you were fascinated by this stranger, and he with you.

Masterlist 10

You were fascinated by this stranger, and he with you. Training in the community with the ones you called family brought him closer to you.

Sitting around the fire, you allowed time to pass to truly just admire his features. The brown eyes admiring the joy that surrounded you all. Curls that only added to his features and emphasized the cheekbones that adorned his face.

In a juvenile way, you felt jealous of the long lashes that kissed along his cheeks when he blinked or was asleep.

Kid could feel your eyes on him the longer you stared.

The two of you had only acknowledged each other through small talk, but he felt safe with you. If it wasn’t talking to the leader of your community, you were a kindred spirit that made him feel welcomed and safe.

Feeling his eyes shift to you, the heat from the fire added to the blush to your cheeks. Out of a corner of your eyes, you saw Kid offer a shy smile back at you.

Later that night, you two had snuck away from the group. Under the pale moonlight, you admired the soft vulnerability on his face.

A finger gently traced along your face and dragged along your lips. For a moment, you were a comforting strength to the young man and he a gentle admirer for you.

With a shuddering breath, it was one, two kisses pressed to your lips as you held onto him to deepen it.

[spikershoyo]

morning light | Kid x GN!reader x Sita | fluff | mild suggestiveness

warnings, tags, and notes: mild suggestiveness, kissing, mentions of violence, this is purely self-indulgent and for everyone at the dev patel hive, this is a poly fic don't like it don't read it, if I missed anything please feel free to let me know! @ashsimpsalot MY OFFERING TO YOU BABE

You're reluctant to open your eyes as the sun shines through the window, a gentle reminder that you have to leave the house for work.

But how could you?

You had everything you needed at your side. Well, more like everyone you needed.

Sita was curled up into your chest, her arms wrapped around you while Kid's slithered under you, his other arm draped over both of you. You felt at ease, feeling both of your lovers so close to you.

But that ease is short-lived, seeing that time kept ticking and you needed to head to work.

As quietly as possible you slide out of their grasp and look over both of them, they seem so at peace. It was as if they weren't running away and knocking on your door just a month prior.

You hoped they never had to go through that again. Sita's rose gold dress still hangs over your hamper. Kid's suit was tucked away into a plastic bag in your dresser. The evidence of Queenie's blood along with Baba Shaktie's and Rana's was all over their clothes from that night. It was the only remaining thing tying them back to the violence.

You think about how they looked at your doorstep, both of them shaking because of different reasons. Fear and adrenaline. You could see it in their eyes.

But you don't dwell on that thought, instead opting to head to your bathroom and shower.

At the sound of water running Kid's eyes open slowly, noticing you are no longer in bed with them. It takes him a moment to wake up fully and he relaxes, pulling Sita closer to his chest and hoping you come out before she wakes.

His hands run through her long dark hair, fingers playing with the strands and twirling them. She still smells like roses. Kid smiles at the thought of his girls, his cheeks getting hot. Whether an hour or 15 minutes pass by, he doesn't know, but you're out of the shower and in your work clothes.

He smiles softly when you catch his eye, you seem more awake when you notice he's up. You walk over and sit at the edge of the bed, smiling at the sight of Sita still asleep and curled into Kid's chest.

"Good morning, darling." You whisper and kiss his lips gently. He eases into the kiss and reaches for you, bringing you closer and making you lean down. He was always so needy, especially on the mornings you had work. "Morning." He whispers back, entranced with you already.

Sita stirs softly but you both don't pay mind, too focused on each other. Kid reaches for your waist and you have to force yourself out of his hold because if you didn't you were definitely not going to work that day.

Sita's eyes flutter open, seeing how both of his lovers were in a heated makeout session. She wanted in. "Wow, I see how it is." She whispers, a teasing lilt to her voice. Both of your eyes tear away from each other and fall onto her, the unexpected attention makes her curl into herself but she smiles. You sit on the bed and beckon her over, Sita eagerly shuffles closer to you and kisses up your neck, her customary wakeup routine for you.

You hum and run your hands through her hair then slowly inch under her sleep shirt and rub her back. "How's my girl?" Your voice rings through her ears and she almost purrs, feeling how Kid's eyes run over both of you. Kid looks into your eyes and you see how his gaze begs for both of you.

"I'm great," Sita answers, her hands now running down your arms. The temptation to undress you is a lot for both Kid and Sita, wanting you back in bed. "I'm doing really great." She hums, and her kisses never stop even as she feels Kid's hands snake around her hips.

If only it excites her more. You're just as tempted to ditch work until you see what time it is. Your eyes widen and you cup her cheeks, pressing a kiss to her lips and reaching for Kid's hands and squeezing them. "I need to go." You chuckle, seeing as they are a bit stunned.

Kid fights back a whine, wanting to just pull you down and for him and Sita to have fun with you. Yet he understands that you have more people to take care of since they can't head outside yet, their faces all over the news.

"Fine. But come here for a sec." Sita smiles, leaning in to kiss you one more time. Kid is eager for a kiss as well, you can tell. You give him one and run your hand over his cheek.

"You two behave while I'm gone, yeah?" They share a look, one that says we won't. But you know better.

[imasradiantasthesun]

Victors — part 3

Haymitch Abernathy, Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, and Johanna Mason

[barneswilsonrogers]

My Sambucky & Samsteve library:

Lucky Number Seven by @dykeromanroy Read on AO3 Words: 15,407

— Bucky leaves the building. He spends an hour walking back to his hotel room. On the way back he smokes three cigarettes and can’t stop thinking of the feeling of Gio’s hands in his hair. It had been so stunningly good to simply be a person in the world.

Bucky gets to his room around five am. He wakes again around ten. He realizes he had not thought of Steve once all evening.

[relmint]

God is anyone willing to talk about Monkey Man and the Green Knight in my dms 😭

[allamericanfinalgirl]

bruce banner x black widow 🧪💚🖤❤️🕷️

[somearestronginthebrokenplaces]

I've Been Running out of Fear

It had been months since the assault on Kings, police tape around the front entry still blowing in the wind. Sita, first overjoyed at her newfound freedom, had to deal with her new reality. She needed a job and fast. Luckily she found one quickly.

The sports betting office was dingy, tucked into the business district of the large city. And while Sita still found herself in the shadows of those skyscrapers, this time she felt anonymous, losing herself in the job. She knew her looks helped win the old man who hired her over but her meticulous work sealed the deal.

She was good with numbers. Always had been. That’s how she knew exactly what percentage of her pay Queenie and Kings stole from her. How much they owed her. And she tried, she really did, to tamp down that anger. They’d lost their lives for it, for all of what they’ve done to her and everyone else. They’d paid in blood. But that didn’t stop the anger, the shaking of her fingers, at night when she couldn’t sleep.

Things had changed. She could admit that. And while change is usually slow with big machines like the government the streets felt different now. Like the pseudo gods had been pushed back, kept at bay now. Scared of their own mortality.

She’d thought of him everyday. Of what he did for her, for them. For all of them. She’d figured he was good as dead for what he did, who he killed. She hadn’t seen him around and hadn’t expected too. But that nagging want, need, hope to see him again turned her stomach at times. She knew want and need were just as bad as faith and hope. Pointless. Useless. But still…

She first heard the whispers that he was alive from the old women in line in front of her at the bank while running an errand for her bookie boss.

“He slipped out into the night, became the one thing that could protect him,” the woman with the young baby in her arms whispered in a hushed, but not secretive tone, to the silver haired cashier.

Sita’s ears perked up.

“I heard the same thing, that he slipped out of Kings and into the darkness. That he survived the hell fire he rained down on those assholes,” the cashier replied.

“They say he must be a god, or of the gods anyway.”

Sita smirked, remembering the lanky, clumsy waiter she’d first met. The way the ugliness of Kings made him pale, sweaty. But she also remembered the way he held her gaze. The way he saw her and didn’t turn away.

Goosebumps raised on the skin of her arms when she thought of the way he’d look at her. Like she was something, someone, special. Someone to be respected. No one ever looked at her like that.

“The papers say they have no leads, but I heard he’s hiding out at a temple, outside of town. In the country somewhere,” the cashier continued.

Sita knew the temple the woman spoke of, she was from the country, she’d seen it once or twice while growing up. Anyone who didn’t know of it would have a hell of a time finding it.

That night while Sita lay awake like so many other nights the noise of the city never dying down she thought of the temple. Of how she hoped, that word again, that he had made it there. That he was safe.

Then she cursed herself, why do you care, she asked out loud in the darkness of her bedroom.

When she couldn’t stop the thoughts of the temple and then the dreams started she realized the only way to kill her curiosity was to see for herself. She needed to prove to the little voice in her head that said ‘maybe’ that he wasn’t a god, that he wasn’t indestructible that there was nothing to hope for because it’s safer that way.

On a day off she slipped away from the city, following a path she knew only from memory.

The temple was just as she remembered it, carved into a hillside, blending in with its surroundings, a part of the landscape, not apart from it.

She took the stairs slowly, afraid of what she’d find at the temple door, whether it was true he was there, or true he’d never been there. She was nervous for either outcome. But deep down, she felt him. She felt a peace she hadn’t felt since she was young in that hillside.

At the top of the stairs her heart beat wildly in her chest. She breathed in deeply through her nose, willing her heart to slow, her breathing to even out.

Before she could change her mind she raised a shaking fist to knock against the sun worn temple door.

When no answer came she debated knocking again or turning away. She could turn back now, go back to the city and dream whatever ending she wanted, she could live in the limbo of not knowing the truth and while that would hurt, knowing the truth might have hurt her worse and she was tired of being hurt.

Just as she was about to turn away the door creaked open slowly, exposing the cool darkness inside.

A man, a woman, with long hair and golden bangles running up their arms peered out suspiciously.

Before Sita could speak the golden hued puppy from the alley pushed her way through the cracked door her tail wagging while she sniffed Sita’s sandals.

Despite herself Sita smiled, bent to ruffle the fur behind the dog’s ears, “You remember me?” she asked.

“Who are you?” the temple keeper asked, voice stern.

They were put on guard by her clothing, she’d done too much she thought, her attire too business like for the countryside. She’d dress down next time. Next time she thought. What a curious thought.

She straightened and swallowed. Sita didn’t know his name, his real name, she’d realized. She suddenly felt guilty about that.

“I’m looking for Bobby,” she said, hating the way the western name felt in her mouth. It didn’t suit him.

The temple keeper frowned, “There’s no Bobby here, you must be mistaken.”

The door started to close and Sita’s stomach dropped. She’d been right. It’d been futile to hope.

“Sita?”

She heard her name, like a song.

It was him. His soft voice, she’d heard it in her dreams so many nights.

When he appeared in the doorway her heart stopped, it was like seeing a ghost.

“It can’t be…” she breathed.

He looked…healthy. All his sharp edges just a little less so. The cuts she’d grown accustomed to seeing on his face all healed. His curls longer, softer, falling into his face.

Her cheeks heated when she realized she’d been staring.

“There you are,” she said, holding her chin up.

His eyes softened, the corner of his lips twitched in an almost smile, “Here I am.”

“Well come inside,” the temple keeper replied, a little exasperated, a little amused.

“You kept the mutt,” she said, words harsher than her tone as they strolled the temple grounds together.

He nodded, “Couldn’t leave her behind.”

Sita thought about how she told him not to give the puppy hope, but that wasn’t what he had been doing. He kept his promise, whatever promise he made when he fished out that food from the garbage to offer the starving dog. He saved her, like he saved them.

“How are you?” he asked as the silence stretched a beat too long between them.

She bit back a smile. Such a simple question that wasn’t simple at all.

“Good,” she replied, “I got a new job.”

“Do you like it?” he asked, genuine concern etched between his brows.

“I do,” she replied, reassuring him, “It’s good. And you?” she asked.

Tension was beginning to build in her shoulders, in her palms. In her stomach. This wasn’t the conversation she wanted to have. There’d been so much, too much, that happened since they saw one another last, but he owed her nothing, she knew that. His kindness of seeing her was just that. But yet here she was. Pulled to him.

He shrugged.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm at a grove of trees lining the back of the temple’s property.

“You never thought about it did you?”

He frowned, meeting her gaze, “About what?”

“About the after.”

He looked away from her, gazing intently at the dry grass as it swayed with the late afternoon wind. “I didn’t think there’d be an after.”

“You went there to die?” she asked, surprised at the way her voice caught.

He nodded.

She shook her head, he’d been so foolish she thought not for the first time.

“Was it worth it?” she asked.

He turned back to face her, this time she saw the fire licking at the dark edges of his glittering brown irises.

“To be able to stand here, with you now, free, both of us, yes. Yes, it was worth it.”

A young boy ran up to them then, wrapping himself around the legs of the man she still didn’t know the name of.

He smiled, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair. Leaning down to whisper something against the boy’s ear making the boy smile before running off again.

She watched him, how patient he was, how gentle.

She didn’t know how to be soft, or gentle like him.

Maybe she could learn because he made her feel safe. He gave her peace.

“Dinner is soon,” he said, “stay?”

She nodded, she hadn’t come this far to let him out of her sights so soon.

And at dinner, while the sun burned orange on the horizon, his fingertips brushed over her knuckles, his smile soft.

Yes, she could learn.

[fishfingersandscarves]

knight of the dreaming

(from Maybe sprout wings by @moorishflower )

[royalsunshinehotel]

Love and appreciate your Dev content!! Would you consider writing more monkey man kid x reader - maybe something where he praises and talks the reader through it, starting gentle and then figuring out he can be rougher because reader likes it that way. He would start out wincing through the pain caused by his fighting, but eventually forget about that. Praise/dominance part inspired by him saying "good girl, do you like that?" to the dog in the film 🥵

Good (Kid x Reader, drabble, 18+)

He thinks you're adorable. It's a part of why he keeps coming back to see you. You'd do the same, if you knew anything about him.

But for now, you don't need to know. He's come to you after a rough night at the Temple, and what started as you putting his pieces back together, has once again ended with you, flat on your back.

You'd always gotten the sense that he was being careful with you, whenever he worked you open for him, feeling his mouth on the most sensitive parts of you. It always felt as if he was holding back.

A small knot of guilt twisted in your belly, you know.

You know he's in pain, and he's fucking you anyway. He should be convalescing on your couch, not ....whatever this is.

He hits a new angle and you gasp into his mouth, foreheads pressed together. He doesn't have to hold back...

"Harder," You all but whimper into his mouth, "I want it harder."

The words make him pause, large brown eyes staring into your own. Whoever he was, he saw right through you, even now.

His shoulder stopped hurting a long time ago, and he'd even go as far to say he was enjoying himself, enjoying you.

"Harder?" He confirms, "Like that?" He catches your moan with his mouth, after snapping his hips down into you. It was experimental, if you said "never mind", he'd forget it.

You think it's pathetic, how your eyes practically roll back. The effect he has on you is embarrassing.

He on the other hand, thinks you're lovely. You have to be an angel, floating into his life, trying to heal him, trusting him even though you have no reason to. It occurs to him that there will be a day he'd have to give you up.

Not yet, he thinks.

"Yes..." You trail off, "more please!" He chuckles lightly at how polite you were, even now. And he continues with a harsher pace, a tighter grip.

Your hand finds his, and moves it to your throat. His eyes go round at that, as he takes a comfortable grip. Alright...

Your wail comes out stifled against his mouth, as he tries to soothe you against the harsh pleasure of him, "Good...good girl, there we are..."

He bats his wet eyes at you, and suddenly your breath escapes you. You clamp down around him, clawing at your lover, "Always so good to me, that's it."

You're beautiful, and worn out. You smile sleepily into his mouth, fluttering, as you let him chase relief for himself.

[chaithetics]

Fics for Palestine! 🖤❤️🤍💚

Hey, beautiful Tumblr besties!

Do you want a fic and to support a good cause? A super specific fic? Want to ensure you are fed those Monkey Man fics you're needing? Or have you sent me a request and want me to hurry up and write it (Sorry I do take my time with writing)? THEN READ

I will write and prioritise requests from you and have them posted on Tumblr NO LATER THAN MAY 31ST!!!!

All you need to do is send same day confirmation to me either in the ask box or as a message of donating to a fund or organisation on the Operation Olive Branch list! This could be a family's Go Fund Me page for evacuating Palestine, the UNRWA fund, or eSims for Gaza etc.

This is the Operation Olive Branch's linktree page

I don't know what the response will be to this, if miraculously so many people were interested that I was too overwhelmed I would come up with a new date or close temporarily and 'reopen' for June. We'll see how this does, but I will be regularly updating this!

I will write for the following characters:

Any Pedro Pascal characters

Any Oscar Isaac characters

Any Dev Patel characters

Any Fallout characters

Any Succession characters (not Old Guard or Greg lol but even Tom!)

Tommy Miller (TLOU)

Any The Bear characters

Marvel characters like Matt Murdock, Wanda, Bucky etc.

And more I just can't think of, you're more than welcome to ask about a certain character in comments, DMs or in my inbox before donating as well 🫶

What I will write:

I'll write fluff, angst, smut, or any combination! I will write plus size readers, poc readers, disabled readers etc. I will write female readers, and gender-neutral readers, I'm bi/queer so am happy to write wlw fics if you desire Shiv or some Wanda with an f reader or more straight ones- whatever you want! Requests can be as vague or as specific as you want!

If you want Kendall and Stewy's conversation the night before his wedding to Rava with some angst, you got it! If you wanted to request a plus-size reader to go on a bookstore date with a contemporary Ezra, you got it! It's pretty open to your dreams!

I won't write fics that are nonconsensual, 'dark', heavy kink, gore, vore, paedophilia, and nothing with under-18 readers or characters (this includes characters 'aged up' for a fic).

My masterlist is here for navigation and if you aren't familiar with my work but want to get an idea!!! Chaithetics Masterlist

Moving on.....

If you donate 5 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whatever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 500 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

If you donate 10 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whatever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 1,000 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

If you donate 50 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whichever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 4,000 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

Why is this important?

We need to help out and do our part to not be complicit in Israel's genocide against the Palestinian people. Palestinians are begging for our attention and aid, since October 7th 2023, Israel has murdered over 35,000 Palestinians, displacing the survivors so many and committing numerous war crimes. Israel's expulsion, ethnic cleansing and war crimes have been terrorising the Palestinian people and land since 1948. We all have a part to play, so get involved with this if you like, please contact your local representatives and government, keep engaging with Palestinian content and voices, support the funds if you can- I know that's not accessible to everyone, attend rallies, protests, and vigils in support of Palestine. Do what you can, what is physically, emotionally and financially accessible to you.

I'd love it if you could share this as well, especially for my mutuals and others in these fandoms with much bigger platforms (I have a humble 300 followers, that I adore) and also for other writers to consider doing something like this! Thank you for reading this far, let's stay empathetic and support each other in these trying times 🖤❤️🤍💚

[w0rmdahl]

i love you i love you (2020)

synopsis — in the mid-17th century the king's daughter, princess yuna min [Marisa Moon] finds herself caught between the forbidden love with her childhood bestfriend / the kings' knights' son, samir "sam" devgan [Dev Patel], and her royal duties within the kingdom. desperate for the reigns on her life story the two flee the kingdom of elora and find themselves in a harrowing tale of love and sacrifices.

works ↴

— the beginning

— the snow ; day one

— the snow ; day two

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Write Saroo Brierly fanfic and not make it angsty af challenge: impossible.

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Retribution (The Kidxf!Reader) - Monkey Man

A/N: I said I was writing it and it has been done lol If you haven’t watched this film yet, please do! I indulged and wrote a small fic about it lol (Don't mind the abyssmal pacing of this, I barely edited and added anything) I hope you all enjoy it and can someone please indulge me more by writing more fics about this man!? Dev Patel absolutely killed it! Put him in a rom-com! I tried to write the hijra with as much care as possible. Please let me know if there’s something I can be more educated on in terms of this!

Synopsis: A mysterious man arrives at the temple you call home and makes quite an impression.

Warnings/ Tags: Angst. Fluff. Allusions to sex work. Descriptions of violence and blood. Coarse language. Kissing.

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

The cheers of those around you interrupt the hanging of your laundry.

Peeking through the shoulders and the shadows, you sneak a glance at the subject of commotion, and it doesn’t surprise you.

The way he moves is equal parts graceful and aggressive. His punches are meticulously messy, a choreographed war drum thrumming to the beat of his own heart. This man is far removed from who you remember gazing upon a few days ago. His eyes were lost, sunken, like a child looking for guidance or divine judgement for all that’s led him to this point.

This was not that man.

This man was vengeance personified.

And through him, you felt hope.

You knew nothing about him. Alpha was able to garner all of your help, quietly and quickly instructing to pull the man out of the river. You were there when they cauterized his wounds. His screams were pure agony, making you cringe, and somehow you felt that his pain went deeper than physicality.

He walked like a ghost when he first came, aimlessly walking, like trying to just bump into something that would give him an answer.

Now, it seems he walks with purpose.

He throws his last punch and receives a mighty applause. The crowd recognizes the show’s over for the time being and they disperse as he keeps heaving, staring at the bag like he wants to hit it more. Like he never wants to stop.

You pick up a basket and walk over to him. Whether to strike up a proper conversation or feeling annoyed at the dirtied shirt on the ground you had just washed, you don’t exactly know. But something about him is magnetic, pulling you in, just like the first time you saw him that night, all bloody and bruised.

You nod at his white shirt. “I’ll take that.”

He breaks from his spell and turns to look at you.

His heaving slows, his breaths getting deeper by the second. For what you think is a few minutes, he just stares are you, and you at him, both of you taking each other in. You realize his physique really is something to awe over, but more importantly, that his eyes are far gentler than what you thought possible.

You tilt your head. “The shirt?”

He bends and picks up the white cloth, simply extending it to you as he continues to stare. You gesture for him to drop it into the basket. With an amused scoff, you start to turn away. “I’d appreciate it if you hung the next shirt you tore off on a wall.”

“Your name?”

His voice surprises you. You’ve only heard him speak a few times before. He sounds rough, and scratchy, like he doesn’t use his voice often.

You introduce yourself and after a few moments, he repeats your name back to you. Slowly, quietly, as if he’s scared of offending you in any way. Listening to it fall from his lips is like listening to dripping honey and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make heat crawl up your neck.

To save face, you again start to walk away from him. “Widen your stance.” You advise, not waiting to hear a reply.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Several days pass until you have another full conversation.

You’re caught up with mundane chores. He’s caught up with punching that bag and doing god knows what else when he’s not at the temple.

Though there was that one time you almost slip and he catches you effortlessly by the waist and it definitely made your stomach flutter.

You smile the first time you depart to wash laundry and see his shirt hanging over a nearby wall.

He’s getting better. His posture looks strong, immovable. Sometimes you think with all that’s happened to him, that he must be invincible. Surely, no one can lose that much blood and still maintain their sanity.

But then you see his movements wain by the end of his exercise and it’s like something powerful overcomes him as he loses all finesse and he punches that rice-filled bag for all its worth with no rhyme or reason. You sense his frustration as he suddenly stops and puts his hand on his hips, breathing erratically.

You approach him cautiously. Pulling out a bottle of water from your laundry basket, you offer it to him. “Consider taking a break?”

He’s slow to take the bottle from you but he does so anyway. After almost draining the whole thing, he splashes the rest of the water over his head. Only as he shakes the droplets off his curly locks does he try to return it to you.

“An actual break.” You reiterate, stuffing the bottle of water back into your basket. “Your drummer needs one too. He might have built up his callouses, but he should eat something.”

The man turns to look where your eyes are directed and though you don’t have a clear view of his face, you can tell from the way that his eyebrows ease that he feels a sense of guilt. The drummer simply raises his palm and stands. “Take some time to clear your head, I’ll be here whenever you have.” He leaves the courtyard until it’s just the two of you left.

The weather is oddly cool today. There’s smoke and a mugginess that’s expected from being close to the heart of the city, but if you were to look around, it’d almost seem like you were transported decades into the past. The temple acts like a sanctuary, shielding you all from the outside world’s noise and it does a good job.

You walk towards a small wooden bench off to the far side and take a seat. You set your basket down and pat the space next to you. “Come,” You beckon “I’d appreciate some company while I fold all of these white shirts I’ve had to add to my load.”’

Something like embarrassment flashes on his face as he follows your command and sits right next to you. His posture is stiff like he wants to make an impression. It’s obvious your newfound companion doesn’t like to talk, or more accurately, isn’t very good at starting small conversation.

“I’m sorry for the bother.”

He has a tone of bashfulness, unable to turn in your direction. Your smile widens as you continue to fold “I didn’t say it was bothersome.” You refute. “In fact, I’d rather say I don’t mind you taking your shirt off.”

You try to make direct eye contact then, but he swallows thickly and doesn’t meet your eyes. It makes you giggle, but you decide to pull back on the joke, not wanting him to take offence or cause him more uneasiness. “Besides, each shirt is a testament to how much work you’ve put into bettering your skills here.”

That gets him to scoff and drop his head in disbelief “I’m still not where I need to be.”

“No,” you reply earnestly “but you will be.”

This earns you another bout of silence.

 For a while, you both just enjoy each other’s quiet company. He stares blankly ahead and you give him the time to examine whatever it is he’s battling through in his own thoughts.

Eventually, he sighs and inclines his head towards the sky. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ever since I could remember.”  You answer honestly. “Alpha says they opened the door and there I was, miraculously alive, left laying on a dirty blanket.”

“You’ve been here ever since?” He carefully asks.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else if that’s what you’re asking.” You pass an unfolded shirt to him and to your surprise he starts to fold it with no question. Bitter memories start to glaze your view. “And for someone as uneducated as me, there’s only a few jobs out there that I’d be considered for as a woman.”

A knowing silence passes through you both at the statement. Yatana was unforgiving. A real dog-eat-dog society with no time or need for those who couldn’t stomach it or keep up. Truth be told, most of the time you couldn’t. Very often would a prostitute or child be pounding on your doors for help or asylum. Hungry, beaten, thrown away like a speck of dust not worth anyone’s time.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

You’re unphased by the question. “Of course it does.”

And you mean it. There are days when you scream at the sky or dunk your head slightly longer underwater to try and get away from it all, try to release it in some way.

Eyes still trained to the sky; he confesses “Because that’s all I feel. Anger and pain, and I can’t-“ he struggles to finish his words. “I can’t-‘

“I know.”

That makes him look back down and finally turn in your direction. He patiently expects you to explain.

 You swallow thickly but continue to talk anyway. “To feel helpless, like you can’t do anything no matter how hard you try.” Gritting your teeth, you realize your hands have stopped folding. “But it doesn’t matter, because there are people who need me more strongly than the pain I feel.”

He considers your words thoughtfully and waits for you to speak once more. “Amidst all this chaos, this temple stands. People need me here. Children, mothers, the beautiful hijra who gave me a home, and when they leave this place with the tiniest glimpse of hope on their faces, then I know I’ve done my job. I don’t fight as well as the hijra here, I don’t expect to get much better, but I want them to know that they have refuge with me.”

You pass him an unfolded sari and for the rest of the time you are sitting together, you both fold quietly, basking in the sun and each other’s presence.

He continues to train harder after that. Each step is quick, each punch as sharp as a bullet. When he isn’t training, he’s watching. The news, the protests, the speeches, like he’s reassuring himself, learning the best way to approach.

 It’s obvious everyone here, including you is taken with this stranger. Though, you don’t really know if you could even call him that anymore.

It’s like he seeks you out. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply sitting together for dinner or him deliberately waiting for you to walk through the courtyard with your basket under your arm. Both of your eyes are trained on each other with an eager sheen.

Maybe it’s fear or maybe it's an understanding that your pairing would most likely never work out in the end. Either way, whatever it is, it disappoints you because you so badly want to believe he wants you the same way.

The mood becomes slightly flirtatious and you catch sight of a boyish grin here or there, especially when he’s surrounded by the hijra.

But anytime you think he might ask you something, or just when you’re on the cusp of telling him your interest, something stops you in your tracks, holding you back.

A recollection plays in your head of last night.

It’s just him and the drummer again today. You wait near a dark window before you pass so as to not to disturb his concentration.

He has a beat to the way he fights, a brutal rhythm, and it astounds you every time you watch him. If this is how he looks punching a bag, you wonder how he’d look fighting against others. You find the thought oddly attractive, and it makes you flush.

For all his skill in the ring, it seems that’s where all his artistry in footwork stops. Surrounded by laughing and beaming faces, with the sound of softer drumming in the air, everyone takes a turn dancing. No one cared about how sloppy anyone was. You sure weren’t the best dancer amongst the hijras, but this seemed unsubstantial when you were all drunk on each other’s company.

The children present that evening and you form a small circle. You’re swinging your arms around when you notice your mystery man with a smile of his own. It knocks the air out of your lungs. It’s one that gives him crinkles around his eyes and all at once he doesn’t look like a hardened killer, but someone you’d see on a billboard or a magazine cover.

You crook your finger at him, inviting him into your little dance number. He tries to politely decline, his once beaming face turning something sheepish, but Alpha bumps him shoulder to shoulder, and soon the rest of them urge and tease him to dance along. When he gets to the center begrudgingly, it’s already too late for him to back out. Two children start to pull him until he lands directly opposite of you.

The circle of your intertwined hands spins, it twirls here and there, and when you all raise your hands to shrink the circle, you land face-to-face with the most fascinating man you’ve ever seen. It lasts all of five seconds, but everything around you dims as you look at this man’s face illuminated by firelight.

His eyes are his most emotive feature and they always seem to twinkle. Right then, they almost looked like jewels from the way they glossed over.

You pick up on the way those eyes slowly dipped down towards your lips and suddenly you wonder if he’s thinking about the same things you are. If he really does want you the same way you do.

But before you can tumble into that path of thought, cheers and hoots pull you out of the little bubble of enchantment you’d created. You turn to reject the idea of it all, but when you glance back at the man in front of you, your breath catches.

He continues to stare intently at your visage, not minding or caring about the extra attention one bit.

And then a scream erupts in your ears.

Seeing him punch the bag until rice grains stick to his chest reminds you of what he’s capable of.

When he shares a nod with the drummer, you know that he’s finally achieved what he came here at the temple to do.

Dropping your basket, you immediately rush indoors, following the cries of the hijra around you. Lakshmi lays in the center of the temple room floor, blood dripping from them like a fountain. You crouch and gently put their head on your knees as the weeps continue all around you.

They explain that they put a notice on the door, Shakti’s men, and all you can see is an unbridled tint of red starting to form. Your heart is pounding, Lakshmi is struggling to fight for air, and in front of this statue, an indescribable wave of pain crashes into you.

It’s loud, far too loud. With your thoughts, the cries, the blood staining your shirt.

Your one hand on the floor clenches into a fist. You try to remind yourself that you can be better, that there must be something more to all of this than just pray, than to just keep taking what they serve like impotent little ants. The hopelessness starts to creep in, slowly etching itself into your thoughts.

But before it can take hold, you distinguish a face in the shadows. It’s observing as everything around you starts to crumble and in that moment you try to push all that anger onto him as you directly glare into his soul.

And when you see him break open the donation box much later during the humid night, you know you’ve put your faith into the right person.

He tries to leave as silently as he came, but you meet him at the entrance. He holds a crude, dirty children’s bag and you can only assume that’s where he’s keeping the money.

He tries to explain, but you start to approach him which stops his needless rambling. In an act of boldness, you grab his hand in yours and flip it to look clearly at his scars. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Alpha was right.” You agree. “You do have the hands of a warrior”

You enclose his hand between yours, putting it up against your lips. “I wonder how such gentle hands fight with such ferocity.”

He starts to twitch and as you loosen your grip, expecting him to pull back, he instead cups the side of your face and despite his scarred calloused hands, his touch is pure velvet. His thumb brushes the tears you didn’t notice were starting to fall freely down your cheek.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

“Fight for me.” You croak thickly. “Fight for all of us.”

He clenches his jaw. “I promise you.”

You pull him towards you by grasping his neck and your lips meet in the middle. The kiss is like him. Equal parts sweet as it is harsh. His lips were warm and soft, but the urgency in the way you both kissed each other was anything but. You bury your hand into his hair and feel his curls unmake themselves even further. His smell of soap and sage infiltrates your senses.

It was a dizzying feeling. It’s what you felt while you were dancing exploded ten-fold. It was the culmination of tension and grief exploding into something technicolour. As your noses bump against each other, you think you want to draw more of this kindness from this man.

Your breathing quickens and he groans into your mouth. It’s almost like you two are fighting. With each other, against each other, for each other. Exploring this hungry need has only made you more insatiable.  

And that becomes particularly dangerous, especially when you know he has a job to do.

Reluctantly you pull back. His eyes stay closed and you press your foreheads together, listening to the crackles of the torches around you. “Your emotions are strong.” You quietly whisper. “But do not let them control you. Let them guide you.”

He blinks his eyes open, full of clarity.

Letting each other go hesitantly, you take one last look at him and he at you. “Come back to me,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

You can tell you’re both skeptical about your claim, but he nods his head anyway. He walks around you and you don’t turn to look at him leave for fear of wanting to hold him back. You hear the creak of the door, but before he can take another step away from you, you mumble “Give them Hell.”

There’s a slight pause before you start to hear the crunching of the ground beneath him, each step lighter than the last until you can no longer hear him creeping into the night.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

- - - - - -

When you see the money-filled bag hanging on the statue the next day, it’s attached with a note.

His presence overflows through your every pore.

Alpha looks at you with a determined expression on their face, as do the other hijra around them.

It seems they don’t just want repayment, they want a reckoning.

They want retribution.

- - - - - -

A/N: Please let me know what you think by leaving a note, comment, or reblog! Or we can just geek out about Monkey Man lol I definitely won’t be opposed to that lol

[imninahchan]

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚 ⌜ 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐒: friends to lovers, dev homem patético com síndrome de second lead, size kink, masturbação masculina, dirty talk, a leitora é uma loba, sexo sem proteção [todo herói tem que usar capa] ⁞ ♡ ̆̈ ꒰ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑨 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑨 ꒱ eu disse que agr teríamos 6 fics dele nesse site, a win is a win fml ─ Ꮺ !

⠀⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ───── 𓍢ִ໋🀦

“E COMO FOI O ENCONTRO?”, ele te pergunta, enquanto termina de guardar as compras pra você no armário de parede.

Você cruza os braços, o corpo pendendo pra parede, ao observá-lo desempacotar tudo e colocar direitinho nos lugares em que você costuma deixar. É incrível como Dev não se esquece de nenhum detalhe, mesmo depois de tanto tempo. Não se esquece de nada sobre você. “Ele me pediu em namoro.”

Nesse momento, o barulho do papel de embrulho e das portas do armário sendo fechadas se cessa. É como se, embora de costas pra ti, você ainda conseguisse ver a expressão que assombra a face masculina. Com certeza, os olhinhos escuros estão paralisados, abertos, sem vida. Os lábios separados. O ar preso dentro dos pulmões, porque escuta o suspiro que vem a seguir, precedendo um nossa, que legal, que era pra soar animador, porém só demonstra o contrário.

Um sorriso bobo se estica no seu rosto.

“E você aceitou, né?”, ele quer saber mais, incapaz de se virar para te encarar. “Você ʽtava bem a fim dele.” E que bom que o homem não está te vendo, pois o jeito tolo que você sorri, passa as mãos pela face tentando conter uma risadinha, denunciaria totalmente o suspense que planejou fazer nesta manhã. Não, o responde, após se esforçar ao máximo para soar neutra.

Agora, ele vira o rosto na sua direção.

A mão ainda segurando na maçaneta da porta do armário, o enlatado na mão prontinho para ser guardado, mas a carinha de personagem de comédia romântica que acabou de receber uma notícia que vai levá-lo para o final feliz do filme é mais importante. As íris brilham. Grandes. Pupilas dilatadas e tudo.

“Mas por quê?”, o questionamento ecoa genuíno. “Ele é um cara legal”, defende, “é basicamente o que você ʽtava procurando, não é? ”, se encosta na bancada, “Eu entendo que às vezes você tem muito medo de se apaixonar, mas você nunca vai conseguir ninguém se não permitir tentar pelo menos uma vez.”

Dev, você chama, com bom humor, um risinho brotando no automático, assim que se põe a caminhar na direção dele, de braços abertos para envolvê-lo, “é sério”, ele resmunga, sorrindo por osmose. Também tô falando sério, devolve, séria pra passar credibilidade, mas depois perde tudo quando solta outro riso. Abraça a cintura dele, o queixo se erguendo para olhar nos olhos alheios. Se sente pequenininha tentando escalar uma árvore para colher um fruto apetitoso ao perder-se no desenho da boca à sua frente. Desejosa. Ambiciosa. Acompanha a respiração do Patel; calma, inflando e esvaziando o peito, porém sente o contraste que vem dos batimentos acelerados. É que não tem sentido eu continuar procurando quando eu já achei você.

É tão bonita a forma com que os olhinhos dele parecem ainda mais cheios. Os ombros caem, o ar abandona os pulmões outra vez, como se o corpo maior fosse desabar, sensível, nos seus braços a qualquer momento.

Tirou um peso da consciência, definitivamente. Já deveria ter dito isso há uns meses, no entanto sempre tinha receios — seja um possível cenário em que o perdia, em que nada dava certo e era uma completa catástrofe. Mas o quão boba foi, não? Era óbvio que estava apaixonada por ele, e melhor, ele por você. Dev é irreversivelmente apaixonado por você.

Como hoje, ele não precisava estar aqui, guardando todas as suas compras pra ti. Não precisava ser essa pessoa que está sempre do seu lado, pra qualquer coisa. Não precisava fazer da mãe dele a sua segunda mãe aqui em Londres, nem se sacrificar tanto pra realizar os seus desejos. Cuidar de ti quando bebe demais com saudades de casa, cozinhar sua comida favorita pra beijar seu sofrimento. Ler seus livros preferidos, ouvir as músicas que ouve e estar onde você está. Muito menos ser aquele que está acariciando a sua bochecha enquanto você dorme, depois de uma noite inteirinha em claro com ansiedade sobre o futuro em terras estrangeiras.

Mas ele faz.

Você pega a lata da mão dele, deixa na bancada. Os olhos masculinos te assistem, cada ação, concentrado, imóvel. Os fios pretinhos ganham um carinho teu, o toque suave escorregando por entre as ondinhas até alcançar o maxilar e deslizar na linha pela aspereza da barba. “Você é um bobo”, sussurra, ao que ele, atônito, só consegue fazer que sim, “ia me deixar ficar com outro cara quando me quer.”

É porque eu te amo, a voz dele vem baixinha, soprada. É tão suave, docinha, que você não contém o sorriso. Tira os pezinhos do chão para juntar a sua boca na dele. Dev se entrega ao beijo, ao estalar molhado dos lábios, o peso do corpo masculino tombando na sua direção, guiando até te prensar contra a geladeira. Ele segura com ambas as mãos os cantos do seu rosto, enquanto as suas descem pelo torso dele, se agarram à barra da blusa e suspendem a peça. Você não quer deixar transparecer o tesão quando o vê seminu, e pra sua sorte, o britânico está absorto no desejo da sua boca que nem nota o seu olhar nada discreto para o abdômen dele.

Está devorando os seus lábios, chupando a sua língua, alheio ao barulhinho metálico do próprio cinto sendo desafivelado por ti, ou do fecho dos jeans sendo desfeito. Só é afetado quando sente a sua palma quente envolvendo a ereção, nos primeiros movimentos da punheta. Oh, fuck, murmura, teso, pegando no seu pulso. Você sorri, o vê de olhinhos fechados, apenas permitindo que o toque como quiser, e acha tanta beleza na rendição dele.

O peitoral se enchendo, ofegante. Por entre os lábios entreabertos, não reverbera somente o ruído da respiração descompassada, mas também o som meigo dos gemidos curtos, extremamente tímidos. O seu ego vai nas alturas, de nariz em pé. “Agora é uma boa hora de admitir todas as vezes que bateu uma pensando em mim”, murmura, viperina. Dev sorri, culpado, com dificuldade até para estender os lábios, quando o toque dos seus dedos foca em massagear a cabecinha inchada. “Pode admitir, vai”, e você continua, “tanta porra que podia ter jogado em mim...”

Ele encosta a testa na sua, suspira. É como se lutasse contra a vontade do próprio corpo para não se deixar levar pelo prazer e se desfazer agora, aqui nas suas mãos no meio da cozinha. E, felizmente, vence. Toma ambos os seus pulsos, torna a boca pra sua num ósculo confuso, mas necessitado, intenso, enquanto te guia para a sala de estar. Passos curtos, apressados, cambaleando por entre os móveis do apartamento pequeno. Eu preciso te foder tanto, o escuta sussurrar, ébrio.

Depois que te deita no sofá, nem se preocupa muito em te despir por completo. Quer estar dentro de você, te invadir, encher. Deliciosamente cego, patético na maneira desesperadinha que te livra da calça, da peça íntima. Mais tolinho ainda quando se encaixa em ti e empurra devagarzinho, quase numa catarse, as mãos no seu quadril, te erguendo do estofado para conseguir ir o mais fundo possível.

Você tranca as pernas na cintura dele, se diverte com o ânsia masculina. Dev se coloca inteiro, vem e vai de modo a atender a todo o apetite que vem guardando há meses por ti. Rápido, as estocadas soando alto, babadas, os olhos flagrando o anel de porra branquinha que se forma ao redor do pau. A projeção do corpo masculino te cobre todinha, uma sensação gostosa de se sentir pequenininha sob o homem. Os músculos dos braços fortes e da barriga contraindo a cada estocada funda que te acerta, contrastando com a fragilidade de quem está metendo em ti com todo o cérebro, usando feito uma bonequinha, sem fôlego, até suando nas têmporas, mas tão, tão determinado a te rechear que chega a ser fofo. Pô, deveria ter dado pra ele antes...