The thing Pinkie found the most irresistible, the thing she never got enough of, the thing she’d fantasized about most; was the sheer variety of textures Discord’s body offered. She loved the tickle of his beard, the leathery whisper of his wing, the scrape of his fang against her skin.

Discord, in turn, seemed to delight in her poorly-concealed enthusiasm in his body. for as long as his centuries-long memories could recall, he’d been called a freak, a demon, a monster. To be fair, he ACTED like a freakish demonic monster at times, but the behavior has only come after years of rejection and name-calling. He would never consciously admit it, but her enjoyment of his mismatched form was starting to heal the deep wounds in his ancient and battered heart.

AN:breaking in my new oversized sketchbook <3 I love this pairing so much…I really should write a little something for these two…