#added scars to his mc skin

[jjoneechan]

Dream Stream in a nutshell

some character body studies

It's fun pushing poses out of something so blocky

#artists on tumblr #do not repost/steal #dreamfanart #dreamwastaken #dream #fanart #mc skin dream #dream mcyt #lil minecraft guy #so sassy #added scars to his mc skin #AND PAW PADS #🥹

[irishmammonagenda]

Boop!- Obey Me x Reader

Summary: You go on a mission to boop, as per usual chaos ensues. Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Female Reader (implied), i dont really think there's anything else but if you can see something lmk and i'll add a warning

very obviously inspired by tumblr's boop event

dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Hello Michael!" You greet, signature foxy grin on your face. Michael looks up from where he's playing Connect Four with a man in robes and waves at you.

"Hiya MC!" He puts the palms of his hands on the soft cloud ground and leans back on them, he's bare chested in the heat, though he's adorned himself with waist beads and arm bands, firm muscles on display. His long curly blond hair is in intricate braids, small ornaments threaded through it. He grins up at you, bright red eyes shining under the light of the Celestial sun. "What's brought ya up to the Celestial Realm today?"

"I am evil. I am very evil Michael." You say seriously.

The other man laughs, though not unkindly. His tanned skin shimmers ethereally under the light, dark brown eyes stare up at you, rich like soil after the morning due. Dark waves and soft curls frame his face, some soft stubble one his jawline, barely noticeable. "I'm sure you're not evil." He says kindly.

You stare at him, before smiling as well, touched. "Aww thanks! And you are?"

The man smiles, reaching his hand up, Michael takes that time to sneakily move one of the coins the man had put down a slot over. "I'm Jesus, it's nice to meet you MC."

You cough. "You're Jesus?"

"Yes." He nods, "A lot of people are shocked when they first meet me...something about expecting me to look like Da Vinci's gay lover."

You nod, dumbfounded.

Michael, sensing your inner turmoil, and also needing to keep Jesus' attention elsewhere so he could continue cheating- winning creatively in Connect 4, clears his throat, "So what's brought you to the Celestial Realm and made you claim that you're evil?"

This makes you grin, "Well, my dearest Michael....have you heard of boops?"

Michael straightens up a little bit, Jesus watches him intently, before fixing the board to its original state whilst the Archangel is distracted.

"No I have not...Why, what are they?" Michael asks, signature mischievous grin on his face. "They sound fun."

"Well I'm glad you asked Michael!" You grin, before leaning in and whispering into his ear. The added proximity made you realise he smelt of pine cone and fresh rain.

Michael giggles evilly, turning over to Jesus, before reaching a dark, jewel adorned hand and booping his nose. "Boop!"

Jesus just smiles, Crucifixion was worse. "It's your go, Michael."

"Oh of course! MC wait for this game to be over! I have...uh..business to attend to in the Devildom!"

You and Jesus share a look.

Michael looks over at you two, "You coming Jesus?"

The man smiles gently, "No thanks, I'm still traumatised from that one time when Satan tormented me in the desert."

"Oh okay...." Michael deflates the tiniest smidge before looking back at the board, spluttering. "Hey you moved the pieces!"

Jesus snorts, "Yeah, I moved the pieces back from where you tried to cheat."

"Lying's a sin." Michael huffs.

Jesus laughs, "Was that an admition of guilt?"

Michael falls onto his back dramatically, dark skin shining in the Celestial Realm's blessed light. "Ugh! Woe is me! This is worse than the time that one Irish kid got me confused with Michael Collins!"

Jesus pats his shoulder in pity. "Easter's a hard time for all of us."

Michael blinks at the scars on Jesus' palms from the nails and bites back a very bad Cross joke. "You could say that again."

After the game of Connect 4 ended, (Michael lost) you and the Archangel said your goodbyes to Jesus and began your journey down to the Devildom. Michael walks beside you, a good bit taller than you. Michael having swapped out his less than covering attire for a flowy white flare sleeved top that you'd imagine a pirate or a Victorian would wear, the lace buttons are undone for the most part, as per usual. You'd come to learn that the Archangel hated top buttons with a burning passion.

"I call Lucikins." Michael says with about as much seriousness as a 10 year old calling shotgun on the front seat of the car. So very serious.

"Fine. I call Mammon." You reply, looking up at him, as if daring him to try and boop your first man before you could. He pouts, but relents.

"I call Satan then." Michael blinks back at you with crimson eyes.

"No why?" You sulk.

Michael shrugs. "He's my nephew. I get to boop his nose it's the law."

"No it's not."

"Yeah it is!"

"Prove it then." You huff.

Michael turns around and you hear fidgeting before he hands you a paper napkin with writing on it. You notice the fountain pen he sneakily snuck back into his trouser pocket and glare at him, before reading the napkin.

The Eleventh Commandment: Thou shall let Michael boop his nephew's nose.

You hum, "Something's telling me this is fake."

Michael gasps incredulously, as if offended by the very notion, he places a hand over his breast, where his heart is. "How dareth thou! Truly, 'tis a crime against nature to speak such filth about the Holy Word. A crime against God I daresay!"

"Okayy...drama king."

Michael gasps again. "Alas! Thou speaketh such filth! Such blasphemy to thee! Thy words...such horrors! Cursed are thou amongst humankind!"

You deadpan. "I'm taking away your Shakespeare rights."

"Try it I dare you." Michael challenges, red eyes gleaming with something predatory. "You can boop Simeon."

You grin. "Yay!"

"I call Luke."

Your grin drops. "What the frickety flip that's my son."

Michael's brows furrow. "He's my son too what the flip."

You gasp, bringing your hands to your mouth. "Did we?..."

Michael's eyes widen, he pulls his top up and counts his ribs, losing count several times because you keep adding random numbers in. He looks up at you.

"Did we have a child out of Wedlock?!"

You and Michael look at each other in object horror. Both conveniently ignoring the fact that Luke technically came into existence millennias before you.

"I think we did...." You place your hand over your brow like a Victorian woman seeing the ankles of her secret lesbian lover for the first time.

Michael follows suit.

"Michael....I fear we might be sinners...."

"Well you know what they say in the human world MC...." Michael sniffles, looking away from you dramatically. "Sinner sinner chicken dinner...."

You pause, breaking character. "Is it not Winner winner chicken dinner?"

Michael shrugs. "Not like I care."

You parrot his movement, shrugging your shoulders back as well, before the horror creeps back onto your expression. "But...Simeon and Barbatos also see Luke as their son...."

Michael looks at you wide eyed, grabbing you by the shoulders, "MC! We have to count their ribs!"

You put your head in your hands, "Two angels, a demon and a human with angel blood that's somehow an angel....our son is a hybrid!"

Michael gasps. "Hybrid princess?"

You do a double take. "Why do you know what gacha is." You breath out, looking at Michael in genuine fear.

"I wasn't a gacha kid don't worry! Levi was though! He'd show me his little Gacha stories that he made...." Michael looks nostalgic. "Such an adorable little weirdo....he gets it from Lucifer y'know."

"If I described Lucifer as an adorable little weirdo I think he'd skin me alive."

"That sounds like a you problem." Michael grins.

You and Michael continue your journey down to the Devildom, only this time he's giving you a piggy back ride because you annoyed him until he agreed. Strong hands hold your thighs to keep you from falling, as your arms are wrapped around his neck.

You had been 'calling' people to boop.

"I call Diavolo."

"Deal." Michael nods, trying and failing to twist his head around to face you because you're on his back and he's not an owl. "I don't want to accidentally start another Celestial War by booping the Prince and acting King of the Devildom's nose."

"That's surprisingly a good reason."

"Fuck you mean surprisingly?" Michael scoffs, though there's no real bite to it. "I'm always having good reasons."

"Yeah and I'm the spawn of Satan." You say sarcastically, human world side winning over for a second, until you remember that Satan is in fact a real person and that you are in fact now in the Devildom.

Michael laughs, "You know who Satan's the spawn of? Lucifer."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"What's he gonna do? Bully me while I'm in a desert? Jokes on him, I hate sand and don't go anywhere near it."

"I don't feel safe anymore, we're gonna get jumped."

Michael laughs.

"I call Levi, I need to return an anime to him anyway." Michael breaks the silence.

"You borrow animes from Levi?"

"Yeah sometimes, me and Saint Peter watch animes at the gates of Heaven when it's a slow day and not a lot of souls are being guided into it."

"Nah imagine dying and waking up in heaven to see the people at the gates watching anime."

Michael sticks out his tongue, though stops when he remembers you're on his back and can't see it.

"I call Barbatos."

Michael sighs in relief, carrying you through the streets of the Devildom. "Thank God, you can have him. Good luck with that."

"Go fuck yourself Michael. I call Thirteen."

Michael gasps excitedly. "Tell her I say hi!"

"Tell her yourself."

Michael huffs. "You're so mean to me MC."

You bite his neck, really embodying your inner feral street cat. He yelps. "Don't try to steal my wife, next time I'll bite your jugular pretty boy."

Michael laughs, "I am quite pretty..." He flips his hair, the intricate golden braids and curls hit you in the face, seeing as you're still on his back. You let out a sound similar to a feral street cat coughing up a hairball, he laughs again. "Also I'm pretty sure Thirteen is a lesbian."

You perk up. "Oh yay! You should be the priest at our wedding Michael. You don't have a choice."

"Fine." The archangel huffs, his plump lips pouty. "But only if Luke's the flower boy."

"I was gonna make him the ring boy giver person." You reply, playing with one of the ornaments braided into Michael's hair.

"Even better!"

Moments of comfortable silence last before you decide to break it because you're evil and have no moral code whatsoever.

"Michael you can have Solomon."

Said Archangel halts. Dropping you off of his back before turning to look at you, now strewn out on the ground. He puts his hand over his brow like a Victorian man who just saw the ankles of his gay lover. (Probably Solomon: You'd decided.)

"No! How couldeth thou?" He sighs dramatically before it just turns exhasperated. "Those rumours just died down...."

You jump up off of the ground, wiping the soil from your clothes, "They have?! Dammit!"

Michael deadpans at you, pulling at a golden coil of hair and letting it be stretched straight before letting go and watching it bounce back up into a curl again. "I hate you."

"That's harsh."

After having separated from Michael, you sneak into your First Man's room. He sits lazily, lounging on his bed and scrolling mindlessly through his DDD. So enraptured he doesn't even notice your presence just yet until you press your finger to his nose.

"Boop!"

"ARGHH-" he screeches, jumping atleast five feet in the air before realising it was you and scoffing. "Oh...It's you...o-of course ye'd wanna boop the Great Mammon's nose! That'll cost ya!" He huffs, trying to avoid the initial embarassment of you seeing him so uncool!

"Boop!" You boop him again, he grins stupidly like an idiot inlove, before snapping out of it and putting his 'too cool for this' persona back on.

"T-that'll cost ye! MC!" He stutters, trying to cover his blush.

"Oh will it now?" You raise a brow before bringing your lips to his nose and pecking it there, pulling away again in less than a second. "Boop."

He pulls you in for a hug before you can pull away completely. You grin, having reduced the Avatar of Greed to a blushy pile of mush in your arms.

Take that Alpha Male podcasters who think women want dominant mean men who suck and hate them. Everyone knows all women want a Mammon.

You and Michael meet back up again. Michael having a scratch on his leg.

"Satan did not like the fact that I booped him at first...until I gave him an emergency kitten that I put in a cage nearby like 5 minutes before." Michael says, noticing that you noticed the scratch. "He almost bit me! He's definitely Lucikin's son!"

You point and laugh at him. He pouts, before interlocking your arms. "Purgatory hall?"

"Purgatory hall." You nod.

Michael knocks on the door. Luke answers it before gasping like a child on christmas. "Michael! Hi!" He hugs the Archangel who laughs and picks him up.

The blond boy notices you at that point, he smiles brightly. "Oh MC! Hi!"

"Hiya Luke!" You smile at him, booping his nose. "Boop!"

"Michael follows suit. "Boop!"

Luke blinks before grumbling. "I'm not a child..." He then turns his head back towards Michael who's still holding him. "Boop!"

Michael laughs. "Do MC now!" With that he quickly moves closer to you, Luke still in his arms, and the young angel boops your nose too. You all grin, laughing. Luke just ecstatic that Michael was able to visit. And he brought you too!

You end up watching a movie together, all three of you. Simeon comes home halfway through it. Having had to visit a publishers. Michael hides behind the door and when Simeon opens it, the dark skinned angel pops out, booping the poor man. "Boop!"

Simeon blinks at him. Michael smirks lightheartedly "Get booped Loserboy."

Simeon smiles, his gaze turning toward you." MC would you lie any help with your Solomon x Michael fanfiction? I heard from Satan that you two were on hiatus."

Michael groans. "Traitors!"

You laugh. "Get fanficked Loserboy."

Michael grins, putting on faux dramatics. "You both suck I'm going back into Luke! At least he's actually cool."

After a lovely movie with Luke, Simeon and Michael, you run away to a cave because why not?

After entering Thirteen's very lovely abode, and avoiding all of the traps laid out for Solomon, you finally catch a glimpse of her vibrant ombre hair.

"Hiya Tee!" You grin, pouncing on her and pulling her into a hug. The reaper, who's clearly batshit insane doesn't even flinch, she just laughs, hugging you back even tighter.

"MC! To what do I owe the pleasure babes?"

You giggle michieviously before bringing your hand up and, "Boop!"

She grins wider, bloodied emerald eyes staring back at you so lovingly, hints of playful devilry in her expression.

"Oh let me try! Boop!" She says before pulling you in for a kiss that makes your knees feel weak.

When you both pull away to catch a breath, you breathe out breathlessly. "That was a super boop....an evil boop even..." You say, face burning red, you know she feels the red hotness of your cheeks.

She just laughs. Tilting her head, some strands of hair falling into her face. "You want another one?"

You've never nodded quicker in your life.

"How in Diavolo's name did you get in here?" Lucifer asks, looking up from the work on his desk. He quickly closes over the confidential files and paperwork, turning his head to Michael once more. Blood red eyes narrowed at their counterpart's.

Michael approaches the Demon at a speed that could rival Mammon's. In an instant he's beside the raven-haired man. "Awww Lucikins don´t worry about it! Boop!"

Lucifer swallows thickly, and flicks his gaze to Michael. Despite having the glare of a thousand suns on him, Michael continues grinning. "Did you...did you just boop my nose?..." The Avatar of Pride asks in a low voice.

"I'm not too sure if I did..." Michael puts his fingers to his chin in mock thought, before grinning, pointer finger in the air. "I'll have to do it again to make sure!" The Archangel exclaims before booping his younger brother on the nose. "Boop!"

Lucifer growls. "Michael-"

"Yes, Lucikins?"

"Michael I am going to kill you."

The elder only laughed, "Awww classic Lucikins! Still in his teenage angst phase!"

"I did not have a teenage angst phase." Lucifer glares, huffing embarassedly, turning away and picking up his quill in an attempt to turn away from this god awful conversation.

Michael gives him a knowing look. "Don't make me pull out the photos."

His head snaps back to his elder brother. "What photos?"

"The photos of you with the wolf cut, the ones with you and the eyeliner, the ones where you're all dressed up in your little emo costumes..." Michael wipes a tear from his eye. "Oh...you were so adorable! Always threatening to murder me...! Glad to see that my wittle baby brother hasn't changed!" The Archangel exclaims, pinching his younger brother's cheeks and making them squish up, Lucifer felt his face flush with embarrassment. Michael laughed, he looked like a chipmunk!

"...'m no' a 'ittle ba'y bro'er! you'r tw' minu'es ol'er than 'ee!" Lucifer tries to shout, but with Michael pushing his cheeks together, it comes out muffled and distorted.

"All I heard is that you said I'm the best big brother in the three realms and you love me very much!"

Lucifer glares at him. A glare that doesn't hold any weight seeing as Michael is still squishing his cheeks together and he still looks like a chipmunk.

With enough squirming and fighting, Lucifer finally manages to get out of his brother's grip, he rubs his cheeks, staring daggers at the angel. "I would never say that. I'm not your baby brother. I'm not Lucikins. You're two minutes older than me yet two centuries more immature." He says venomously.

Too bad Michael's poison proof.

The Archangel laughs, "You're not my baby brother? Huh? Who's bed did you climb in when you were scared of the thunder back in the Celestial Realm?"

Lucifer bristles, swallowing thickly, "That's irrelevant."

"Sureee." Michael grins, though it's softer around the edges, Lucifer feels it too.

Lightning flashes in the Celestial realm. Long before Mammon had even been born. Thunder roars, a small whimper sounds. Lucifer sits in his bed, covers over his head, gripping a pillow tightly. Barely even a cherub, he takes the slight break in the storm to gather the courage to waddle over to his twin's bed.

"Mikey?" Lucifer whispers in the darkness, gripping onto the poles of the bed with his tiny pale hands. "Mikey...you awake?" He says through gapped teeth, a slight lisp in his voice. The gap between his two front teeth would close with time.

The sheets rustle, a young Michael groans, also barely a cherub his voice is as high pitched and childlike as his brother's. "Luci...go to sleep..." The slightly older cherub says, eyes still closed.

"Can't Mikey...'s too loud.." Lucifer whispers, black hair sticking to his forehead in a slight sheen of sweat. As if to prove his point, thunder roars again, lightning flashes. Lucifer whimpers, gripping the pole tighter.

Michael sits up sleepily, short curly hair tied in the tiniest protective braids possible, some small blond coils escaping their confines at the edges of his head. The older cherub wipes a small, chubby hand over his eyes and yawns before opening his duvet up just enough so that Lucifer could climb in.

"Make sure...go to sleep Lucikins..." Michael whispers tiredly, covering his yawning mouth before abandoning his teddy bear and putting his arm around his little brother instead.

Thunder sounds again. Lucifer stiffens and lets out a small sound. "Mikey...'m scared..." He grips onto his twins matching pajamas tightly with his tiny little hands.

Michael grins sleepily, red eyes staring into his twins same coloured ones. "Don't worry Lucikins! 'm always gonna p'tect you! That's wha' big brothers are for!"

The thunder still sounds, Lucifer still stiffens slightly,but surrounded by the warmth and comfort of his twin, he manages to sleep soundly.

After all the madness and badness. (Devil face emoji) You and Michael meet up in a Devildom café.

"That was productive!" The Archangel grins.

"Indeed it was Michael....indeed it was...." You say, a blissed out look on your face.

Michael arches a brow, "Is that one of Thirteen's leather jackets?"

"Maybe..." You say dreamily, playing with the sleeves.

Michael just laughs at you. "Get it, I guess! Anyway wanna watch Gilmore Girls with me? I need to catch up with Raphael...he's a few episodes ahead of me."

"Of course I do."

Michael brings his hands together in an imitation of a fly on a wall doing the hand thing. "Excellent."

.

.

.

"Do you think Luke's going to grow up to open a coffee shop?"

"Nah, he'd open a bakery."

this is utter bullshit and utter dogshit idek

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #omswd #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me michael #obey me thirteen #obey me thirteen x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me jesus #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me fluff #boop

[villainousif]

Villainous

This is Rated 16+, please be aware of this before continuing

This game will contain

Blood and violence, death, manipulation, child abuse, trauma, vulgar language and implicit sexual content, suggestive mature content

Fate can be great and bad. Born into a cruel and unfair world, life was never great nor did it get better, always bringing you into a downward spiral. Death was at your door, and it was time for judgement.

Yet judgement was never casted for you lived another day but how far can you run before it consumes you whole and kills you right where you stand? How long before you pay the ultimate price for your crimes? Your fate is sealed.

SYNOPSIS

Cursed is what you've heard since you were a small child abandoned in a cruel world. What could you do but survive hopeless? The world laughed at you and threw things at you, but you were saved by mother she showed you love. All you have to do now is listen to your mother; after all, She is the only one who can wash away your sins.

DEMO FEATURES

Play a cursed MC and future villain with uncontrollable powers and an uncontrollable craving for blood.

Customizable MC: name, gender (male, female, non-binary), appearance,

Manipulate and destroy those around you play the victim

Listen to mother

5 Potential Romance Options

Survive

DEMO TBA

Main Cast

King Derek (53)

- King Derek is not present in the lives of Amalia and Amir since he is preoccupied with Kingdom matters and battles.

Mother Cordelia (44)

- The woman who adopted you and nurtured you as her own is kind and compassionate, and she appears to be rather younger for her age.

Teacher Esmerelda (60)

 - The twins’ teacher since childhood She is sweet and humble, yet she is strict and only does what she believes is proper and ideal.

More characters will be added as the story goes on + more information on them

ROs

Princess Amalia [ISFP] (23)

- A carefree and enthusiastic princess, a ray of sunshine 

- Small in height with wavy long platinum blonde hair, bright ocean blue eyes, honey complexion, and a lithe figure with dimples

- Amalia, prince Amir’s twin sister, is reckless and full of energy. She enjoys crowded areas and doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty. She spends most of her time exploring or horseback riding. She is known for her breathtaking beauty and heavenly smile, as well as her unconditional loving attitude.

Prince Amir [INFJ] (23)

- A quiet and calm prince 

- Wavy hip long platinum blonde hair, dark blue eyes, honey complexion, and a tall, mesomorph figure

- Amir, the twin brother of Princess Amalia, is the polar opposite of his sister; he is more cautious and instinctive; he prefers peaceful places and spends much of his time reading or training; and he is known for his intelligence and serene attitude, always appearing to be perfect.

Commander Erica [ENTJ] (25)

- A commander who is open-minded, intuitive, and judgmental.

- Curled medium-length black hair, bright orange eyes, dark brown complexion, inverted triangle physique, with scars all over

- Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army Erica is a nice and laid-back person who enjoys the entertainment and has a sweet spot for cutesy things. She spends much of her time with her army or out touring; she is known for her raw strength, laid-back demeanor, and accomplishments.

Servant Caius [ESFP] (24)

- A charming and flirtatious servant

- Dark brown short curly hair tangled hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, athletic physique, medium height, and a beauty mark under his left eye

- An imperial palace servant Caius is a humorous and charming flirt who enjoys open places and people. He spends the most of his time working or chatting with strangers. He is known for his confidence and playboy tendencies. 

Wizard Wren (20)

- A prideful and arrogant wizard

- Straight long dark red hair, mismatched green and purple eyes, ivory complexion, and a slim frame low in height with an eyepatch on the left eye.

- A wizard of the Empire Wren is direct and ruthless; they prefer tiny spaces and spend the most of their time casting spells or conducting magical matters; they are known for being powerful and arrogant.

#interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #dashingdon #work in progess #choose your own adventure #other ifs #if recs #if wip

[autistic-sidestep]

sidestep scar map

here's all the physical scar mentions of step's ive discovered so far that aren't choice dependent! (choice dep scars will be in another post). lemme know if i missed any!

edit: hi people from r/hostedgames o/

edit 2 (nov 8th): added some more i missed!

(cw for sh/sui mentions and graphic injury description)

general

"Have you seen me?" You don't bother to hide your sneer. Even with your clothes on, there are enough scars and marks that many people would pay dearly to remove them. (ch 22, argent meetup) Regenerate…the notion is a tempting one; could it work on your tattoos? You've tried cutting and burning, but there's just too much, you'd be scarred and mutilated before you were done, but this…this prototype, could it help you too? (ch 19, etc, regenerator discovery) "What?" A moment's confusion and then—finally—he adds up the dots. His frown deepens, and he looks between your face and your chest, marred by scars and brightly orange tattoos, marking you as other. As not human. "Are you saying that—" (ch 22, flystep apartment scene) "Do you like scars?" you tease, taking one of [Daniel']s hands, tracing it across one on your chest. An ugly one, a remnant from an angry attempt to carve away your tattoos until the drugs couldn't keep the pain at bay any longer. (ch 22, flystep apartment date) It's a slow, circling motion over the small of your back, palm against skin, warm fingers tracing the deep scars you both know are there. And a few that ${he} doesn't. (ch 17, hoots makeout) ${his} hands are running over your skin, over your back. You know ${he}'s tracing scars, the same as you, and having an easier time of it. No fancy hospitals for your body, just your own skills, and no need to make it look pretty. (ch 21, chargestep apartment nsfw)

autopsy (incision) scar(s?)

"I obtained…pictures." He lets out a sigh, rubbing his face. "Classified. Highly classified. I assumed they were from the autopsy." He focuses on you. "Your autopsy." […] "The damage from the fall was horrific…you looked dead. Opened up." (ch 22, steel bar meetup)

legs

You remember that [Psychopathor] fell against the wreckage, and it moved and caused you to scream out loud as it dug into your leg. There's still a scar there somewhere. (ch 2, warehouse fight)

face

"Yeah, things changed. For me." You touch your face without intending to. The thin scars there are the most obvious legacy of your fall, of the window tearing into you like memories. (ch 21, hoots) "I'm not the only one with scars." He rubs the side of his face as he looks at you, and you have to fight not to do the same. You can feel your own face itch with the need to pick at your scars. "Yeah," you admit with a tired sigh. "Looking into the mirror is not fun." For more reasons than one, but you'd be lying if the scars weren't one of them. Bad memories imprinted on your flesh, a reminder of nightmares you can't ever forget. It's interesting, really, the way they see you as another vet. Are you looking out of place enough for that? A helping of scars. The nervous awareness. (ch 22, steel bar meetup)

hands/wrists

"Does it say that the scar on your hand always itches when you're stressed?" (ch 22, flystep apartment date)

"I'm not sure about this," he says, looking down at your scarred hands as if he could read your mind. Soft. Human. He doesn't want to hurt them. (ch 25, post puppet crash step leg rights, chen apartment minddive)

You let Ortega take your hands in [theirs]. Warm. Calloused. Scarred. Just like yours. You can't help but trace the edge of ${his} mods where they break the skin, strangely cool to the touch. (ch 21, trans mc ortega apartment reveal)

You look down at hands so much cleaner than your own. $!{puppet_name} hides all scars. (ch 18, puportega stakeout)

"It feels like they do," you say, scratching one of the scars on your hand a little nervously. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't." […] Your hands are clenched. Hard enough that your knuckles are white. There are a few scars across them, memories of punching things you shouldn't punch. People. Armor. Walls. […] You press two fingers against your wrist, feeling your pulse, feeling the scars. It's a familiar sensation, but instead of the weight pressing against your shields, you feel like a balloon, ready to burst. (ch 17 - finch therapy scene)

arms

tattoo removal attempts

You tried to get rid of them after your first escape. A specialist, suitably coerced. You still have the scar on the inside of your arm where the lasers didn't quite take. Too deep. Something she had never seen before, and she wasn't lying. Almost as if they were regenerating. (ch 15/ch 17, reader regenereveal tag )

You've tried lasers to remove them. You've tried dermabrasion. You even flayed off a piece of your own skin, and while that worked, it left another scar, a deep one. You know it's not possible to do that for your entire body. It's too much surface area; the process would kill you or leave you maimed. Not exactly the life you want. _(ch 15/ch 17, reader regenereveal tag / ch 19, puppet auction)

You tug at your sleeve; it keeps clinging to your sweaty skin. The small hairs on the back of your arm stand on end. The scars are visible now, the ones you made yourself. The ones where you tried to remove them. (chapter 19, argent regene reveal)

"I'm not lying anymore." You very slowly tug your sleeve up, rolling it past the scars, past the places where you tried to obliterate the tattoos, up to where they peek out beneath the fabric. Sharp. Orange. Inhuman. Like you. You look away, regulating your breathing, keeping a straight face as ${mhis} fingertips trace the edges of the design. There's a slight "tsk" at the burn scars that cut them off, no doubt ${mhe} is adding the clues together. […] "I tried to burn parts of them off," you say, […] so ${mhe} doesn't need to ask. "Didn't work too well. Needs third-degree burns, or they'll grow back." "Really?" $!{mhe} bends your arm, and you shift to allow it. "Fascinating." "Flaying works if you cut down to the flesh." Your voice sounds dispassionate even to your own ears, and Dr. Mortum takes a step back with a shocked look on ${mhis} face. "I'd hate to know how you found that out." "Other arm." You tug your sleeve down now that ${mhe}'s stopped touching you. (ch 20, "good" mortum mc reveal at the lab)

Holding your breath, you raise your arm in front of you, watching the pale green hospital robe slip back, revealing the intricate tattoos etched into your skin, broken only by scars. Neon orange. (ch 24, mccrash, revoked legrights)

dog bite

Some [dogs] were kept to guard the perimeter; you got bit once for straying outside. You still have the scar on your arm, a reminder that things that are hurt inevitably turn on each other. (ch 15, 1st boneyard scene)

general arm scars

It's so easy to feel human around ${him}. So easy to ignore the fear. Your sleeves are rolled up to your elbows. Anything more would risk revelations you aren't ready for, but even like this, the scars are enough for conversation. […] *if suitag: The bubbles hide most; you keep them buried deep in the soapy water to make sure ${he} doesn't look. (ch 21, ortega apartment dishes)

sh scars (suitag dep)

The scars on your arms are hidden under your sleeves, and maybe they would be something you could talk about. Something she would expect. A safe revelation of self-harm. *if suitag: Across. Not lengthwise. Your one deal with yourself. Not yet. You have things to finish first." (ch 17, finch therapy scene)

#fh codediving #hopefully this format is useful! #ramblings #fallen hero #sidestep #archival adventures

[saysike-skedoodles]

Smallishbeans

OH WOW DID I JUST POST FANART????? YES I DID. I'm after finding myself becoming VERY interested in Hermitcraft, mainly watching Joel/Smallishbeans' POV of the newest season :] Where do I even start with Joel??? He's funny, I mean REALLY funny (imo), I dunno what it is but everytime he uploads a new vid I'm always so excited to see it. Seriously he may be one of my favourite youtubers at the moment.

Soooooo I drew his MC skin! I also saw many people drawing their own designs/takes on the hermits and figured I do the same myself! It's not much, but I did things like adding antennas (kinda referencing the fact his mc skin was Shrek) and just in general adding green accented accessories. I'm not that confident when it comes to drawing humans, mainky cuz my style isn't built for it, but I REALLY enjoyed this whole process and I think this piece has made me feel a little bit more happy with how I draw people :]. I definitely wanna get to drawing Grian and Scar, I've been watching their POVs too and I just love their skins so I gotta draw them. ESPECIALLY SCAR'S, I love his hat for some reason, I dunno why but the hat is so cool. I've just been ping-ponging between Hermitcraft and Alton Towers for the past few weeks which is FUN. I do wanna add more variety to this account as it is soooooo drawing some hermits seems like a good start :] Also this is completely random but still on topic sort of- buuut do keep in mind if I go on about funny scenarios with the hermits, I'm mainly going on about the characters they portray in the series and not the real people behind them! I feel I should clarify this cuz sometimes there's a bit of an awkward thing to distinguish when it comes to stuff like this.

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I have nothing else to say but listen to I Monster and Andrew WK. Please I can't find any other fans of their work and I wanna gush on about their stuff to people lkajshsdfjhuijfehusij-

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Deviantart

Tumblr

Art Tumblr

Youtube

TMM Official Tumblr

Newgrounds

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[all content I post is automatically 13+ if not stated in the title or the content itself]

#art #digital art #hermitcraft #hermitcraft s10 #hermitcraft 10 #hermitcraft smallishbeans #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans

[wearyeyebrow]

Concrete

You determine that Lucifer needs a few moments of relaxation. What better way than a back massage and some comfortable conversation?

Tags: SFW, established relationship, suggestive language, back massage, back scratching, scars mentioned, gn mc

"You've never had a massage?" You look at him incredulously.

He folds his hands. "I've given them-"

"But you've never actually gotten one?"

"If I have it was too long ago to remember."

You sigh. "Well... let's fix that. Lay down." You gesture to his bed.

"That isn't necessary-"

"You're tired, you're stressed, and your back hurts - I wanna give you a massage. Lay down."

His eyes flicker toward your outstretched hand. "I'm quite busy."

"Noted," you gesture again, "Lay down."

"You're not going to give this up, are you?"

"I'm making a strongly worded request on official letterhead."

He smirks. "Meaning I could decline, but the implication is that I shouldn't."

"Correct," Your smile is triumphant. "Come," you pat the bed, "Lay down, shirt off or lifted up."

He sighs with good humor and starts to loosen his tie. You grab some of your lotion from his nightstand which has become a collection of both your things and his.

When you turn around he's only in an undershirt and slightly bemused. "How do you want me?"

The urge to request him 'face down ass up' is almost irresistible. "On your front."

He complies, stiff as a board, arms folded underneath his head. You lift his shirt up, exposing scars and twisting muscle. He tenses when you run a gentle hand down his back. "Sorry, my hands are cold."

The bed dips with your weight when you straddle his back.

You can almost hear his smirk, "So this is how you want me."

You lean down and kiss the back of his neck. "I always want you." A slight shiver rolls down his spine. "But right now I want you to relax. I know, I know, it's a lot to ask, but I think you're up for it."

His voice is muffled. "...Do your worst."

You think about how best to start before another thought dawns on you. If he's never had a massage then he's definitely never had his back scratched. How awful, how horrible - the world is truly cruel and unjust.

You rub your hands together to warm them up. "I'm going to start with something that's not quite a massage, but it feels amazing. Just relax into it."

He makes an inquisitive noise but you've already started with one fingernail, slowly tracing a serpentine line down his back. He shudders and you keep going, adding another finger into your tracing.

His back is a rough and textured patchwork of healthy skin and healed gashes; you are reminded again of how much he trusts you. You also wonder whether his initial reluctance had something to do with them. Your blunt nails soothe his nerves as you trace up and down and back again, rhythmic and gentle. You pause and rub some lotion in your hands and start working on his muscles.

Goddamn is he tight. You tell him so and he shrugs. You knew he would be, but his back feels like setting concrete, just barely pliable. You work into a rhythm, massage and then scratch, masage, scratch, gentle soothing motions beneath your strong hands. You take a peek and his eyes are half lidded, focused on nothing.

You lower your voice to a soft murmur, "How has your day been?"

"...Tiring."

"Yeah?"

"No more so than usual. Truthfully I'd tather hear about your day."

"Hm. Well... I cleaned the kitchen this morning with Beel's help. As long as he's allowed to snack he's great help. Belphie, uh,  "supervised."

"Meaning he didn't lift a finger."

"Maybe not, but he did provide fun commentary."

"Tch." You can feel tension ripple beneath your fingertips.

"Hey now, relax, remember? Besides, if you can believe it, Mammon saved the day." You giggle and Lucifer makes a noise of disbelief. "He joined us even though it wasn't his turn. There were so many dishes, you know? Heh, he pretends he does things for his own sake but he's actually very kind."

"Hm..." You push through a particularly stubborn knot and feel him relenquish more of his weight. Slowly but surely tension fades from his body.

"But when we were done I told Mammon I was gonna do some homework and he bounced," you chuckle, "it was for Solomon anyway. He's having me work on advanced summoning with runes, so I needed to spend more time than usual memorizing stroke order."

"...For what purpose?"

"So I can summon you all at once. Even he needs runes to summon more than one demon."

"...Practical."

"I think so..." you work on another stubborn knot near his right shoulder blade, "Then, I got a call from Luke. He asked me if I had a favorite flavor but wouldn't tell me why he asked." You sigh, "Sometimes I just wanna squeeze his cute little chihuahua cheeks."

Lucifer snorts, "Chihuahuas are quite fragile - a good squeeze might kill him."

"Say whatever you want, if you could openly dote on him, you would."

"Is that what you think?"

"Mhm. I think you wanna add him to your collection of little lost boys."

Lucifer tries and fails to stifle a laugh. "How dare you."

"Tell me I'm wrong. You can't."

In all of your loveliness, who else would speak with him like this? He truly laughs and it feels like relief. You snicker right along with him. Eventually he relaxes again and he turns his head to the side. "...He's doing just fine in Simeon's care. I have no need to step in, nor do I particularly want to. Mammon alone needs all of my attention."

"Heh, Mammon, and Levi, and Satan, and Asmo, and Beel, and Belphie."

Lucifer chuckles and you smile, shifting over to scratch his back again. Your hands are tired but spending this time together is more than worth it. He finally seems well and truly relaxed leaving you very satisfied. You slide off his back and sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

He rolls onto his side and looks up at you with hazy eyes. His left cheek is flushed red from pressing into the mattress and his hair is slightly askew. He opens his arms and reaches for you - Lucifer Morningstar making grabby hands is too precious and practically illegal. Satan and Belphie shall never find out. You accept his embrace and kiss him gently as he weasels you into his arms. "That was wonderful, thank you."

You smooth down his hair. "I told you so."

Lucifers deep laugh reverberates through your body. "I suppose you did, in fact, tell me."

"Maybe you should try listening to me more often."

He takes your hand and kisses your open palm. "Maybe I should."

#obey me #obey me lucifer #wearyeyebrow #lucifer x mc #my writing #lucifer obey me #i noticed a mistake and fixed it but apparently that counts as reblogging #sorry that this is in ya'lls feeds again

[thedarkestnight-if]

The Blood of our Fallen will stain the future of your Pack.

It will scorch the one you need to save you. Tearing away the very essence of what connects you to Selene.

For we will be avenged…

This… I swear.

It had been a threat, a promise, that had darkened the life of your Pack for years, but when nothing came of it the worry faded away. It became nothing more than a myth, a legend, to scare unruly pups at night.

After all, who could imagine a werewolf without their lupine spirit? It was inconceivable.

Until the promise became all too real for you, on the eve of your 25th birthday, when you couldn’t shift during your Ceremony; an event that would destine you to become the next Alpha of your Pack.

Sending you on a journey that you never imagined yourself being part of. Will you be able to find the answers to your Curse?

Or will everything end in bloodshed like it had all those years before?

This story is rated 18+ (Mature) so please interact with this story at your own discretion. As it depicts various things such as blood, violence, mentions of past torture, sexual themes, profanity, blood feuds, alcohol consumption, darker themes, and more will be added as the story continues.

This story is mainly a romance one with adventure/action/fantasy strewn in.

DEMO (TBA)

Play as a Werewolf!MC that doesn’t have the ability to shift, but has been able to keep some things that make them lupine in nature. Like agility, speed, and strength. Even if those abilities are waning by the day.

Customizable MC: name, gender, sexuality, appearance, and a smattering of other things.

Meet interesting characters as you hunt down the answers to your Curse. Will you be able to succeed?

Have visions of a Goddess.

Hopefully stop another war from erupting.

Romance 1 of 4 options. From your protective best friend to the abrasive mage.

Remember to have fun!

Apollo — M, 25 Years Old, Scorpio.

A lone wolf that you come across— along with his sister— within the forest that you know that you’d get lost in. A place, commonly referred to as The Outlands, that not many have returned from. With a warm smile, gentle heart, and calm demeanor, Apollo is the polar opposite to his sister. Though he does listen to whatever she commands of him. Will you be able to find something more with the lone wolf?

Appearance: Apollo stands at around 6’5” with crystalline green eyes— with streaks of gold strewn throughout. Dark brown hair, with highlights of gold, falls across his forehead in loose curls that his sister always ruffles. His tanned skin causes the brightness of his smile, and the sparkle within his eyes, to stand out that much more. He has a muscular body of a seasoned warrior.

Lupine Appearance: His appearance is similar to that of a gigantic wolf. Dark brown fur, with golden highlights, cause the crystalline green of his eyes to shine that much more. With a muscular physique his lupine form definitely doesn’t look like one you’d want to contend with.

Personality: He’s a warm hearted individual that only wants the best for everyone. He isn’t as jaded as his older sister— probably because he doesn’t remember as much as her— but he’d do absolutely anything for her. He’s more than happy to help you on your journey.

Artemis — F, 28 Years Old, Capricorn.

The other lone wolf that you meet that isn’t as friendly as her darling brother. With an icy glare, aloof disposition, and inability to trust you at first, she’s definitely not going to be an easy person to get close too, but you know that she and her brother know the forests you have to traverse better than anyone. Will you ever be able to heal the scars that have left cracks in her heart?

Appearance: Artemis stands at around 6’3” with crystalline blue eyes— with streaks of silver strewn throughout. Her golden white hair falls to the small of her back in a cascade of soft curls and waves. Her fair skin, only slightly tanned by the sun, was completely unblemished despite the hard life she has seemingly led. Her muscular body still held a lithe air that makes her more agile than her brother.

Lupine Appearance: Her appearance is similar to that of a gigantic wolf. Shimmering golden white fur is offset by the brilliance of her crystalline blue eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a wolf as quick/agile as her.

Personality: She’s aloof towards you. While not being necessarily unkind, she’s definitely not what you’d consider welcoming. Her ire only seems to soften for her brother, which brings out the gentle heart that’s been hurt too much.

Grayson/Grace — M/F, 26 Years Old, Leo.

Your best friend in the entire world. You’ve known them since you were both Pups, when you had gotten pushed into a mud puddle and they went off on the much older boy that had done it. You’ve never met anyone as noble and gallant as G. They take their training as a Guard to the Royal Family seriously, which makes them even more protective of you. It wasn’t a surprise when they were the first person to volunteer after your quest was made known.

Appearance: They stand at around 6’1” with expressive hazel eyes: the most brilliant shades of greens melding with shimmering gold. Light brown skin cause the loose onyx black curls to stand out that much more. They have an athletic body from years of training.

Lupine Appearance: They’re lupine form is a massive bipedal beast— that’s common among the Guard. Onyx black fur, that’s thick and coarse to not allow easy penetration, is only offset by the gentleness of their sparkling hazel eyes.

Personality: They’re a very kind and generous person to those that they trust. No one being above you in that regard (and their little siblings). They just want what’s best for everyone in the pack and will make sure that happens. No matter the cost. They do not get along with Noah/Nora.

Noah/Nora — M/F, 27 Years Old, Cancer.

A member of the very Clan that your Pack had gone to war with so long ago. The very Creators of the Curse that now plagues you. With bad blood going back centuries, you aren’t sure if they’ll help you, but it seems like their Elders have something else in mind. Causing you to have a very put out, and sarcastic, mage along for the ride as you journey on to find out what was wrong with you. Will you ever be able to get passed the prickly exterior of theirs? Or will bad blood always stay that way?

Appearance: They stand at around 5’11” with midnight black hair. Silvery gold eyes— like the sun and moon meeting— causes the warm bronze tone of their skin to stand out that much more. You’ve never seen them smile, at least when it’s directed at you, but you’re certain it’d make their eyes brighten that much more. They have a slenderly lithe body.

Feline Appearance: You’ve only heard tales about their Clans abilities, but to see the giant cat that stood before you? Reminiscent of large panther, midnight black fur allows them to blend into any shadow. Only their golden-silver eyes shimmering within the expanse of darkness gives them away.

Personality: Noah/Nora is fairly brash/abrasive when it comes to you. They won’t hold back, no matter if it hurts your feelings, and they’ll definitely make it known that they wish they didn’t have to be part of this adventure. If you end up getting closer to them? Maybe you’ll start to see the gentle side of them come out more and more.

ART BREEDER PORTRAITS

#the darkest night #concept at the moment #to see how you all would like #but I have the first part for the demo already typed up #interactive fiction #interactive novel #my third game #werewolf

[garbinge]

Poorly Healed

Angel Reyes & F!Reader

From these August Prompts: A Poorly Healed Injury

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Angsty. F!Reader has a kid with Angel.

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics  @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie

“I thought you told me that wasn’t bothering you anymore?” Your voice startled Angel. 

He was standing in the kitchen, his hand over his bicep where a bullet had grazed his skin a earlier this week, his face wincing in pain as he applied pressure. But the minute he heard your voice he snapped out of it and turned to you, his face full of shock and you could see the gears in his head turning as he tried to come up with an excuse. 

“Don’t even try.” You took two steps into the kitchen before grabbing his arm and looking at the wound. It was red, while it had started to scab, it didn’t look proper, it looked like it hurt. “Jesus Angel. This shit is infected.” You were mad but more so, you were concerned. 

“Go.” You nodded towards the door in the kitchen that lead to your backyard. “Go sit on the back porch, I have some antibiotics and should have something to sterilize whatever the fuck this turned into.”

He did as you said, moving to your covered back porch, it was dusk out, but the sunset was still offering ample amount of light. The chair he sat on faced the yard which was just plain yard until a forrest full of trees filled it. The sound of the highway that was only a few miles away buzzed as white noise in the background. 

You walked out soon with two medications, antibiotics and pain meds, along with antibiotic cream and alcohol. 

“You don’t care about scarring, right?” You asked him already knowing the answer. Angel might have been a pretty boy but he didn’t care about a scar. 

“It’ll make a good story.” He smiled from ear to ear as he took his shirt off so the wound was fully able to be treated, although a simple sleeve rollup would have sufficed. Again, pretty boy. 

“Good story, huh?” You began to clean the wound with alcohol, patting it with cotton balls and q-tips. “This one time I got shot at and even though it nearly missed my heart, it sure as hell gave my girl a heart attack because the call she got from the MC was Angel’s been shot, get down to the clubhouse.” You mocked the phone call from one of the prospects who called you. 

“To be fair, that was more Bottle’s fault, not mine.” Angel defended himself. 

“It’s more the fact that you got shot, Angel.” You stopped applying the neosporin to look up at him. 

“I know, it was a stupid situation we got put in, it’s not gonna happen again. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Angel rested his other hand on your knee. 

“That’s the thing Angel, I’m always worried.” 

Your eyes were locked on eachother, faces serious now. He knew what you were saying, he agreed, but it was more complicated than that, and you knew it but didn’t want to believe it because if there was a will there was a way. 

“We aren’t kids anymore, Ang.” You inhaled and closed your eyes, softening your voice before opening your eyes to lock with his again. “We’re not 23 looking for the next cheap thrill, the drugs, the partying, the money, it was fun then, but now, its scary– it’s terrifying honestly, not knowing when you’re coming home–if you’re going to come home, we have a kid, Angel. A child. Who looks up to you. You want him to sit at that table? Look what that shit did to Guero. He’s fuckin’ drowning in that emotion, in that regret, that revenge. I’m not even around the way I used to be and I can see that shit.”

“It’s not that easy, querida. I’m trying.” Angel pleaded with you. 

“I need you to try harder.” You picked your hand up and grabbed his face. “We need you to try harder.” You referred to your son. 

He rested his forehead against yours after letting out a deep sigh. 

“I want you to be happy.” He whispered. 

“I am happy. I have a beautiful son, beautiful family, a home, a handsome man,” You added some humor in your voice to those words to make him smile, “I just want the luxury of knowing when you walk out that door the odds of you coming back home are in my favor.” 

“Shouldn’t be a luxury.” Angel’s voice got serious. 

“I know.” You agreed with him and pulled away from him to continue applying the cream to his arm. 

“EZ should have been the one to call you when I got shot.” Angel back tracked to the vague phone call you got from Bottles that day. 

“I shouldn’t have to get that call.” You retorted. 

“I know.” He repeated your words back to you. 

You wrapped his arm with gauze and a bandage. “Take one of each of these, and for the love of God, Angel, let me clean this out everyday.” 

“Deal.” He tapped the bandage before leaning over and putting his hands around your waist to bring you to sit on his lap and stare out into the yard, the sun setting and the light dissipating as the minutes passed. 

“I think we should move to Mexico.” You had your arm around his shoulder but hand tangled in his hair. 

“Mexico, huh?” He started to caress your arm lightly with his fingers. 

“Yea, I think our boy would love it, plus it’d be nice to bring your dad back to his home, even if it's not the same town, it’d still feel more like home than Santo Padre ever did I’m sure.”

“Good luck getting him out of that house.” Angel laughed. 

“You underestimate the powers of a 2 year old little kid.” You smirked and leaned your head on top of Angel’s. 

“He’s there now?” Angel asked where your child was and you hummed to answer him. “I’ll go pick him up.” 

Angel was now standing up getting ready to head out, you were standing now too, soaking in the quick kiss Angel left on your lips before he was walking away. 

“Angel.” You called out to him, a little desperation in your voice. The fear of him not coming home haunting you like it did every time he left the house. 

“It should’ve been EZ.” You repeated the statement from your conversation earlier, it was something Angel said but you never agreed with it then. The fear of him not coming home and getting a call like you did when he was shot was eating you alive and you hoped he saw that without you needing to explain further. 

He turned around, his face looked heartbroken because he knew exactly what was going through your head. 

“I’ll let him know.” 

With that, he nodded and pulled out his phone so you’d know he was calling to tell EZ right now, it wasn’t what you truly wanted. You wanted Angel to tell EZ he was leaving, done with the club, but you’d take this. If you had to deal with the uncertainty of club life, at least you had some comfort knowing if anything happened EZ was going to be the one calling you to break the news, the right way. As if there was a right way to break that kind of news, but based on the past experience, you knew there was definitely a wrong way of doing it and you could breathe easy knowing that’d never happen again. 

#angel reyes #Mayans MC #Mayans FX #Mayans MC Fanfic #Mayans MC Fanfiction #Angel Reyes x Reader #Angel Reyes x F!Reader #Angel Reyes x You #Angel Reyes Fanfiction #Angel Reyes Fanfic #Angel Reyes

[loveandleases]

sorry, i don't know if you've already said this. but i can't find it. what do they look like the ros? height, ethnicities, body type. for all the nitty gritty fanart/-fic/-tasy reasons! ty

The deets will be on the character intro post but I guess I'll go ahead and answer here too. (I suck at descriptions so lts hope 588 words is enough)

Edit: Just added link to the character intro's. Character Intro

Cam- Cam is fair-skinned with warm coppery hair. Length is kept just below the ears. (he's always struggling with the front) He has heterochromia, so his left eye is a warm brown, while his right is a deep green. Cam has a slim athletic build, and he stands at 6'2. He has several piercings in his ears, with a scar on the left lobe from a bad attempt at homemade piercing (thanks mc) Cam has one dimple in his left cheek. He jokes that if he had two he would be unstoppable.

G- G has a warm skin tone. Their hair is a cool black, while their eyes are dark brown almost black. Male G keeps their hair in a two-block style and tends to keep it pushed back (because puppies like to play with hair) while Female G keeps hers mid-length and layered. FG tends to have her hair pulled back. G has a lean build, female and male g are both 5'10''. (and a half, G likes to ensure ppl know that) They are of Korean descent. Their lips are not exactly plump also not exactly thin, a nice in-between. G has a beauty mark under their left eye and another on the right side of their neck. (long gorgeous lashes)

Kara- Her skin is slightly warmer than Cam. She has round strikingly blue eyes, very soft features. Small nose, dainty lips. Her hair hits just above the waist, while the front is layered just above her chest. She keeps in a lighter blonde shade. Kara's has a curvy body type. Her thighs have very much saved some lives. She stands at just 5'4.

M- ( gonna start calling them Mar for short)- Our cinnamon roll is mixed race. Chinese and Caucasian. Their skin tone is naturally warm neutral, though they spend so much time inside they tend to go more pale. Their eyes are slightly downturned and have a nice honey shade. Black messy hair for M and F Mar. While male M's hair is almost to their shoulders female M's hair is just past. They tend to always have dark circles (too much work not enough sleep). W is one of the shorter ros at 5'7. Their build is soft. Ideal for cuddles.

Isaac- Isaac is African American, Slightly upturned blue eyes (Isaac thanks their mom for that). Umber skin-toned. Isaac is built, they like to work out think athletic build. Their hair is curly and a warm black shade, in between lengths it's not short but it's not long sits to the base of their neck. Jawline that could cut glass. Somewhat sharp features. Isaac is an even 6 ft, they're more broad than tall. Isaac has several tattoos on their arm, not full sleeves.

Ardent- Ardent would tell you that his looks are the best things his parents gave him. He's Greek, with olive skin and brown eyes. His hair used to be a nice warm brown now it has a bit of grey on the edges. The length differs, he used to love to let it grow to his shoulders but the cat had other ideas. so now its just a bit short and a bit choppy. It falls to his chin, though he keeps it tucked out of the way. He's our tallest RO a nice 6'4 and broad, so broad, maybe too broad. .Hes tanky. He has scars along his forearms, and one on his lip.

#love and leases #loveandleases #asks #cam #kara #g #m #isaac #ardent #if wip #twine wip #character description

[lorei-writes]

HC: MC insecure about her body - Kanetsugu

A little bit over a year ago, I wrote headcanons with MC insecure about having small breasts. Later I asked about what other summer-themed headcanons may be worth exploring, and @bestbryn mentioned MC dealing with the concept of "summer body". I said that it goes on the list, and then I couldn't figure out anything with suggested suitors...

But I remembered! And then came Kanetsugu.

This work contains suggestive content. Content Warnings: none

Kanetsugu

Kanetsugu did not expect for the impending summer to bring forth much past the usual pleasurable warmth and excruciating heat. Each season posed different challenges to manage, obviously, but those had long become a routine... To think that he could be quite this mistaken.

It started small, with his lover being just a little agitated. However, this never seemed to last long, and whenever he pressed her on the matter, she claimed it was caused by something during her day.

That would be the end of this, had her mood not got progressively worse. Since asking her yielded no results, Kanetsugu had to adopt a different approach.

It took several days of working overtime, but he did manage to clear up an afternoon in his schedule. He asked his lover to go to town with him.

The idea was simple: if he could not ask her, he'd observe her reactions, and search for the answers in them... With the added benefit of spending more time with her.

The first clue appeared when she barely touched her favourite dumplings. From then on, her discomfort grew progressively more obvious: her shoulders would slump as if she wished to hide, she'd hurry while shopping, and refuse any opportunity to cool down if it would as much as reveal an inch of her skin.

It hurt to see, but what could he do? He did not wish to subject her to any -- real of perceived -- public humiliation, so they returned early.

Kanetsugu confronted her on the matter as soon as they settled in his room and her frame relaxed. However, it became rigid the moment she heard his inquiry.

She grew flustered -- wasn't she hiding it better? Kanetsugu sitting opposite of her, she slowly opened up, her head hung low as she did so...

The longer he listened, the less he could comprehend and the more painfully his gut contorted. Nevertheless, Kanetsugu did not wince nor growl, he did not bristle up -- the best he could offer in the situation was to take the information in as she wished to give it out. Slowly, one word at a time, and it was only his gaze that burned, although his lover could not realise that much. She was too ashamed to watch anything but her hands.

"When I look at you... I feel out of place," she confessed, the chains he wound around his heart struggling to contain its lurching. "You're beautiful, and I... Well, as I've said --"

Kanetsugu did not let her finish.

He pulled her into his lap, emotion howling in wisteria eyes as he gazed up at her.

"Kanetsugu?"

"Not a word more lest you wish for me to lose my mind," he nearly growled.

He kissed her -- on her lips, nose, cheeks, chin, on every blemish and imperfection she mentioned that was within his reach. His hands hovered above her obi, her fingers finding purchase in his hair and drawing him closer to her chest.

He took it as a sign to go on.

Kanetsugu knew his lover well, from the tiniest mole to any scars she wore. He nibbled at her thighs, kissed her stomach, went down the paths marked by the white ink of her stretch marks. It was all her, so in what world could it invoke anything other than rapture?

He found her beautiful through and through. He had to show her. He just had to.

However, even once all was said and done, there was one thing he didn't understand: why?

This time, however, she was willing to talk more. So she told him about everything hers that could be considered "wrong" and about the standards that so imposed.

Kanetsugu did not let her out of his arms, drinking in each word she uttered -- and as much as he wished to say it was intoxicating, that would be misleading. The only thing he was drunk on was how little sense they made.

It wasn't that her account of future beauty standards was incoherent, no. Kanetsugu simply couldn't wrap his head around said standards.

So one year women's thighs were not supposed to touch each other, and just a couple years later, a woman would not be considered beautiful if she didn't have a sizeable bottom? And she was supposed to have large breasts (that had to be eternally perky), but also a perfectly flat stomach? And she was not supposed to have any marks, or scars, or moles (unless freckles were particularly fashionable for a change), or even the natural texture to her skin?

It made no sense. No sense whatsoever.

What made even less sense, however, was the garment that she described, apparently commonly worn to beaches.

His embrace tightened without Kanetsugu even taking note of the fact. His fingers combed through her hair gently, jealousy pooling low in his stomach as her skin pressed against his. A frown creasing his forehead, he pushed himself up on his elbow, eyes taking in her exposed form. He could easily imagine what little skin could the aforementioned garment hide...

"Don't ever say that you're not beautiful enough to stand by me," he rasped.

One evening would not be enough, Kanetsugu knew that much. However, he did not mind offering his assistance whenever necessary if it meant that his star could find her way back onto the sky. Where she belonged.

Tag List: @cilokgoang @violettduchess @the12thnightproject @oda-princess @tele86

+ @ikesenwritings because... You know why, hahaha.

#kanetsugu naoe #ikesen kanetsugu #ikemen sengoku kanetsugu #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series

[dontcryminecraft]

Because of how distant some fanon designs are from the creator's skin(s) and because of how many new fans there are combining for the qsmp, I want to talk about fanon character designs and where some details, in-jokes and references come from.

I'm going to use Tubbo, Phil, and Wilbur as examples because they are who I'm most familiar with in terms of fanart and how fanon depictions have evolved and changed over the years.

Tubbo has the most different character design from his minecraft skin, honestly. His mc skin is Tweek from South Park, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a simple green button-up and jeans. Fanon design gives him brown hair to match his real life person, and any goat/ram hybrid design stems from dsmp fanon headcanons. Any explosion scars are from his 2nd canon death on the dsmp. My favorite detail is a red handkerchief tied around his arm or neck, since it's popular fanon (from dsmp era) that he gave his best friend tommyinnit a green one and tommy gave him a red one- their favorite colors that match their shirts.

Phil is often given many references, but lots of fanon designs for him are based in smaller details compared to tubbo. He's often given charms that reference those close to him. SBI, for example, and Kristin, his wife. If you see beads or color-coordinated charms, pink = techno, yellow = wilbur, and red = tommy. If you see an emerald, probably hanging from his hat, it's a Friendship emerald given to him on the dsmp from Technoblade. Black flowers/roses are also often given to him because Kristin was given the role as Goddess of Death, which I think he's made canon to the qsmp.

Wilbur designs honestly deviate the most from past designs, but just in case a reference slips through- small details like the L'Manberg flag or a blue sheep as stickers or patches are from the dsmp. Maybe a white streak or trench coat, but I haven't seen those often. Wings? bird wings are fanon, sometimes a hint towards SBI, but wings that kinda look like bat wings are phantom wings from the origins server he played on.

It's just super cool! I love seeing these things details transfer over as it references to the past cc's work. I'd love to hear if there are design aspects in fanart for other creators that new fans might not know about or the reasoning for! Small details that aren't on their mc skin, or even details that get ignored on their skin. Fun things that aren't wide fanon but YOU enjoy adding, I'd also love to hear about! use this as an excuse to promote your art, haha!

#ahyes an original post #qsmp #qsmp fanart #q philza #q tubbo #q wilbur #qsmpblr #qsmp community #qsmp character design

[midnightsun-if]

I know you just shared Unscripted but what would the ROs be in the fantasy story you’re thinking of making? Do you have a title for it?

Omen of Ice would potentially be the name for it… It’d be a romance focused fantasy IF set within the Court of Vela’thian (with some adventures elsewhere) after the MC was chosen to be betrothed to the Elven King; for reasons that will be uncovered.

Daeron — The Elven King — Your betrothed, you don’t have to be happy about it, especially if your MC isn’t attracted to men, but royalty has a sense of duty and The North being linked to Vela’thian can only mean good things for your people. Standing at around 6’3”, Daeron cuts quite the figure within his ceremonial robes— a beautifully crafted crown sits atop locks of raven, some strands curling gently across his forehead— sharp golden eyes taking in the room, assessing every nook and cranny for potential threats.

Larak — The Orc Commander — Seeing an Orc isn’t something you were expecting upon entering Vela’thian— not after centuries of war between the elven nation and the Infernal Plains— but Larak isn’t someone you could miss. Light green skin stretches over taut muscle, his hulking form towering at 7’2”; he’s a mass of old scars and tattoos. Dark auburn locks are shaved on the sides and kept in a long ponytail down his back— only being intercepted by the broadsword across it.

Shanaera — The Dark Fae Assassin — The Royal Spymaster of Vela’thian; Shanaera is the closest to the King, being longtime friends. Golden hair falls in a cascade of waves and curls down her back like a waterfall, pooling at her hips. Lightly sun-kissed skin bringing out the brilliance of her amethyst colored gaze; grand wings situated on her back, the feathers a brilliant iridescent black. She stands at around 5’11”.

Calypso — The Siren — Meeting a Siren isn’t something you’d ever imagine you’d do, but it seems like anything can happen within Vela’thian. Dark brown skin, intercepted by areas of iridescent blue scales, complements the sea green of her gaze. Midnight blue hair falling down her back in voluminous curls that brings out the warmth within her smile. In her human form she stands at around 5’1”.

There would be two gender selectable ROs added to the list as well— one being your childhood best friend (as I enjoy the trope).

Hopefully this answers your question!

#midnight sun #asks #other ifs

[miss-celestia13]

My hips and thighs, and my whispered sighs

Jake x MC Smut One Shot

Words: 4k

The world keeps intruding, Jake and Manon can’t near each other, and their shared frustration grows with every passing day. It has an effect on Manon that neither expected, and they’re all the better for it when they finally get time alone.

I needed a little break before finishing my Jonerys day five one shot over the weekend. I decided to share the smut scenes from my Duskwood fanfic: Paper Rings & Dirty Dreams here as one shots for anyone interested. If you’ve already seen it, feel free to ignore! This is the first one. I edited it and added bits in to make it stand alone! You don’t have to know the stories to read this. It’s softer than the usual from this pair. No plot, just emotional and touch starved, cockwarming, slow, lazy sex. Still explicit as fuck though 😂

Dual POV. Their names are bolded when it changes.

Manon

They were like two ships passing in the night, lights flashing and horns blaring as they connected for a brief but powerful moment. Only to part, and miss each other over, and over again. It was a slow, poisonous torture to be grabbed, kissed, and released so fast her head spun, both going their separate ways, praying they had the same stop the next time. It was driving her insane, stealing all the joy from the planning process and making her resent it instead. She could see the same resentment in Jake’s eyes whenever he waved her off or told her he had to leave again. She started to believe it was a setup, their friend's idea of a joke, but no one was laughing. Least of all, she and Jake. He wore tension like a second skin as the days dragged on, dark shadows like sooty thumbprints under his azure eyes, and the nights they used to spend exploring each other's bodies were now used to snatch a few hour's sleep before racing out of the house again.

Almost two weeks passed by in the blink of an eye. She couldn’t remember how it felt to be held or kissed until her knees weakened, and her blood turned to flame. The weight of her disappointment merged with her annoyance and thwarted desire, creating a toxic blend that stifled her and left her feeling oddly lonely despite Jake sleeping beside her at night, too tired to do anything but pass out by the time night fell. Her lusty mind couldn't be tamed as she went through her workout, taking her frustration out on the gym's cracked and peeling punching bag. Blood coursed through her veins, and sweat doused her face and neck as her muscles ached and burned. Every crack of her padded knuckles on the bag ricocheted through her as her mind taunted her with images so decadent and powerful her hands shook. Jake had to work nonstop after their boss’ called him and derailed her plans for a night of carnal indulgence. An issue with a case popped up, and it had to be tied up fast so they could enjoy their time off. He'd shown no sign of being done as she left for the gym that night, needing to get her body moving to ignore the frustration biting at her neck.

Her ponytail swung like a silver whip as she imagined their boss’ face on the bag, attacking with a flurry of furious punches as she grunted through her clenched teeth. She wanted to exhaust herself and drain her energy so she could sleep without being interrupted by dirty dreams and thoughts of sexual frustration. It hounded her every hour of the day; filthy thoughts pelted her, and she was snappish and dull-eyed as time passed. Her scarred shoulders felt as if someone had stabbed her with a hot poker by the time she dropped her battered fists and panted for breath. The gym was empty except for her and a few employees, and she waved to them as she stalked back to the locker room.

It was almost midnight when she dragged herself out to her car, hair wet in its braid after her lukewarm locker room shower, and tossed her bag into the trunk. She was soon flying down the road, music blasting and windows down to let the cool night air ease her overheated skin. Lust was a physical weight in her core and had been for days, but she would at least be able to sleep and was struggling to keep her eyes open as she pulled up to their house.

The cabin was dark, the clock had ticked well after midnight, and she knew he would be passed out, but she refused to allow her disappointment to sink its teeth in as she let herself inside and set the alarms. Her stomach growled and complained, reminding her she hadn't eaten anything since that morning, and her touch-starved heart trembled as she walked into the kitchen and saw the covered plate and note Jake had left.

Wake me when you get home. I made dinner. Please eat before coming to bed. J.

Of course, he'd ensure she looked after herself, and she wondered if she would ever feel she deserved him. Hoped she never did, as she never wanted to take him for granted. It was a simple meal; he wasn't known for culinary genius, but he was good at what he could cook. Pasta and a red sauce, spicy Italian sausage and peppers, the herbs, garlic, and tangy sauce tickled her nose as she heated it in the microwave, and she was salivating by the time it dinged. She read her emails as she ate, sipping a glass of red wine and wishing she could steal Jake away for a few days to satisfy the darker hunger in her.

She took her time washing and drying her dirty dishes. Jake had tidied the kitchen and mopped the floor before retiring, and she smiled at the thought as she hauled her knackered body up the stairs and into her room. He snored softly, flat on his back in bed as she peeled her leggings and hoody off, dropping them to the floor with a muted thud as she padded to the bathroom. Slathering on moisturizer after brushing her teeth, Manon sighed at her harried reflection and prayed for a break in the chaos before her temper snapped. It simmered under her skin, a writhing flame that demanded an outlet, but she shoved it down as she rinsed her toothbrush and left the bathroom, turning off the light on her way out. Jake's arm hung over her side, and as she crawled under the covers to lay her head on his naked chest, his arm automatically hooked around her to hold her there.

Smiling, breathing in his warm skin, and letting her heavy eyelids close, he made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a purr. His thudding heart soothed her tattered edges as she counted the beats and let her breathing slow. Thoughts of waking him up in the best way taunted her dozing mind; he needed to rest after working so hard, and she just wanted to be with him while he did it. Her throat was thick as she swallowed and whispered words he couldn't hear.

"I miss you. I miss you so much I can't think around it..."

~*~

She came awake with an awareness that he'd been up for a while. It was still dark. Shadows shifted on the wall thanks to a crack in the curtain staining the walls with silver moonlight. Jake's fingers dripped down her spine, trailing back up to do it again, over and over. Her dream slowly fizzled out. Something bright, golden, and beautiful, she only saw colors and shapes. Blinking her eyes clear, he drew patterns into her bare back, sometimes a star or his initial, and his heart thumped heavily under her ear. One arm was folded under her head, and the other draped his waist, fingers on the edge of the V muscle on his honed body. Her head still felt fuzzy, but he was in a world of his own, staring blindly at the ceiling, and his mouth wasn't smiling the way she was used to.

She watched him, memorizing him and writing sonnets in her head for him. She loved him like no one had ever loved before, intensely and possessively, grasping hold of him and keeping him safe inside her body whenever she could. It was a craving, a bone-deep insistence to love and be loved in return. They could survive well enough on their own. She liked her independence, but she wanted to share it with him more and needed him more than she could ever explain. They were a perfect match in every way. Both knew who and what they were and gave their all to protect the love they found in a hopeless, blood-soaked place. Every part of her ached to be held, skin charged to be touched as she sighed and wriggled closer.

Clearing her throat, she whispered gently to not frighten him, "Jake, love? Are you okay?"

He still jolted a little, just enough to shake her head, and there were no ghosts in his eyes despite his brooding.

"Yeah. I'm going over the dances in my head." He admitted with a sheepish grin as his ocean eyes glittered.

She gave a fond snort, "You're doing fine. You only made one mistake last time. Even I made more. Remember my promise?" Manon couldn't contain her smirk, though it hung slightly crooked. She hiked her knee up his thigh and dragged her hand up his torso, the muscle jumping under the caress. His eyes darkened to violet as his voice went low.

"Oh, I remember. Something about sucking the soul from my body? You're evil. A menace. I don't know why I put up with you." He turned toward her, sliding a thigh between hers, and a hand went around the back of her neck, the other around her waist. Her lusty self wanted to revel in his dominance, be manhandled and fucked until she couldn't walk straight. But a bigger, louder voice cried out in distress and shied away from it, a pitiful whimper falling from her mouth as he watched her too carefully. She missed him, as silly as it was, she missed him despite him being with her. Everything in her screamed to be treated like something fragile. Trying to let none of it show, she met his steadfast gaze.

"I don't want to be a menace tonight. I want - I need - you. I miss you..." his face fell, the sinful smirk clearing at the thread of distress in her voice. Fuck. That wasn't what she meant to say. She should've kept quiet. She needed soft Jake tonight, and he'd misread the signals due to how tired they were. Her heart quivered in her chest as her love for him bloomed wild as he immediately reacted to her mood. Exhaustion clung to her bones as his eyes gentled and understanding crossed his face. Her cheeks heated, but she refused to look away as he eyed her carefully.

Jake wanted to punch himself square in the jaw. He read the twinkle in her eye as her usual game and responded that way out of habit. But her smile had all the substance of finespun webbing. The pinkness in her cheeks told him she wasn't sure of herself and needed him to take it away. His throat thickened at the trust shining like cracks of gold in her wicked eyes. She needed a tender hand to soothe the stress fracturing her smile, to feel loved, not conquered, and he could only oblige when he wanted the same. He thought he'd already reached the limit to how much he could love someone and be loved back; they'd reached those heights many moons ago, but he was thrown to a new high as her open gaze never faltered, and she let him see the sensitive part of her that she kept hidden. His heart swelled and warmed. Unable to find words to articulate his emotions, he put them into action.

"I know, I'm here. Do you trust me?" He asked and relaxed internally as she immediately nodded. The silver sheen in her eyes pricked at his heart as he replied.

"Good. Relax, Manon. Let me take care of you."

He dug his fingers into her waist, tugging her flush against him, skin to skin; she melted into him, all softness and secret strength. They'd barely seen or looked at each other recently, and he missed her too. It had been too long since he'd been inside her, lost in her body while she trembled in his arms. They needed it to thrive, an endless hunger they shared and fed whenever they could. This was the longest they'd ever gone without giving in to it. And it showed in the hard line of her gritted jaw and the tremor in his fingers as he ghosted them over her supple skin. He let go of her waist, cupping her face and tilting her head back to search her eyes for the consent he needed. She nodded a little after her gaze softened, and he internally cursed, "Thank fuck," He kissed her. Soft and slow, barely a brush of his lips against hers, and his blood shimmered as she returned it just as tenderly. He needed her just as much.

Plump and sweet, kissing her was like coming home and being set free. She shuddered as he swept his tongue inside to play with hers, her nails cutting into his shoulders as her heart pounded, felt in his chest she was pressed so close. His hands roamed over her scarred back, massaging gently and smiling into the kiss as he brushed her tongue with his, smoothing over her skin and kneading away the tension in her muscles. It wasn't often that she wanted it slowed down and to be handled like something precious; he remembered each time vividly. It was so unusual, and he loved that she had no fear of asking him for exactly what she needed. And he was happy to give it to her, to see her smile. He had to give it to her to settle the pacing beast in his chest that missed her just as intensely.

Sliding his hand down her side, over her hip, and down her thigh, he cupped the back of her knee and lazily dragged it up his thigh to hook around his hip. His knee parted her legs, hard cock glancing off her abdomen as she wriggled to slide along his thigh and sighed into his mouth. He rubbed her skin in slow circles, feeling her melt under his care as he stole the breath from her lungs and smiled at the contented noises she was making. She was slick against his thigh, reactive, and always ready for him. He worked a hand between them and awkwardly dragged a finger up the seam of her. Liquid and scalding hot, she whimpered and sank her teeth into his lip, pulling back to whisper something that shattered and healed him all at once.

"Inside me, don't move at first. I need to feel you."

He nodded, ducking his head to latch onto her lips, kissing her deeply and gathering her essence on his fingers, slicking his cock with her wetness as she panted softly. Graceful as he could, he lined up with her, urging her to cant her hips to make it easier to slide into the hilt. Hot, wet, and so tight he had to hold his breath, he pushed past her tense muscles and glided through her depths until he bottomed out. The urge to thrust into her and rattle her was almost a mindless instinct, but opening his eyes and seeing the love in hers, he went very still as her inner walls spasmed around him. Her little sigh made his blood sing as she clung to his shoulders and kissed him until his head swam. He was so deep inside her he couldn't tell where he ended, and she began, cunt hugging his cock tight, tiny shifts of her hips the only friction offered to him.

He pulled back, swiping loose hair away from her face as she stared into him, chest flamed pink and eyes the color of a midnight forest as he strained to hold back, every instinct screamed at him to fuck her. But she needed him to follow her lead. Could see in her eyes how desperately she needed to be a part of him for a little while. She should've known by now that she owned him, body and soul; he couldn't be himself if he hadn't found her.

"Better, hmm?" He murmured after a while, cock jumping inside her as she hiked her leg up to his waist.

She nodded, eyelids fluttering as he moved his hand around her hip to knead her plump ass. He could see the tension draining from her with every second he spent locked inside her wet heat. The lines of stress around her eyes faded, her smile no longer dangled precariously, and the shadows he'd spied dancing in her gaze were soon banished. Her warm hands smoothed over his skin and untied the knots in his neck, and his pleased groan made her hum and sigh. The feel of her wrapped so tight around his length drove him to distraction, hard enough to drive nails as her inner muscles tensed and relaxed, letting her memorize his face as her eyes held his in sway. He expected to feel awkward after a while, but it only felt natural. His muscles strained with the effort of holding back, and her nails scraping over his shoulder didn't help.

"What do you need from me? Tell me, and I'll give it to you, Sweetheart." He whispered, kissing her soundly and groaning as she flexed her inner muscles, taut then loose, both giving breathless little moans as he pulled back to hear her answer.

"You. Take it slow. Tease me with it and hold me close." She husked, and his eyes stung at the raw vulnerability in her voice.

He loved this side of her just as much as he loved the wicked, often infuriating, and sometimes terrifying parts of her. She loved harder than she showed, and he felt it viscerally as he gathered her in his arms and slowly, so incredibly slowly, began to move. He sobbed at the drag of her walls as he slid back, hand gripping her hip to thrust back in, a languorous glide that made her breath hitch as she stared into his eyes. It was lazy, intense, and utterly breathtaking. Her tight clasp held his cock close, his shifting hips and grinding movements opening her up, and she soon dripped around him. Life was chaotic, ever-changing, and completely indecipherable, but everything was simple when they were alone like this. Body to body, moving in tandem to remind each other what they were doing it all for.

Manon cried out softly, clinging to his shoulders as he devastated her. Every tiny movement of his cock inside her felt like he was fucking her hard, and her soul sang as it soaked him in. Oh, how she'd missed him. Sleeping beside him hadn't been enough. The stolen kisses and heated looks they'd shared throughout the week had only heightened her body's craving to have him buried deep in her slippery cunt. Life had gotten in the way, but the world went still as she arched, and he nipped and sucked at her hammering pulse, lifting his head to watch her face when she sobbed his name. His sapphire eyes peered into hers, words of devotion flashing like signs behind the lust, darkening them to navy. She cupped his jaw with a trembling hand, drawing him down for a kiss so stirring her toes curled and her hips jerked, tasting how much he loved her on his tongue as it danced with hers.

She was being pushed onto her back, his body blanketing hers and cock grinding so deep she tossed her head back and let out a low moan as he smiled into her neck. Her legs wrapped around his trim waist, keeping him from leaving her body as he circled his hips and caught her clit with every gentle thrust. A sensation like a thousand tiny creatures crawled under her skin, making her legs twitch as she dragged her nails up his back and dug them into his broad shoulders. He mouthed at her neck, leaving a trail of teasing, nipping bites, and sucking at the pulse hammering in her throat. Needing a bit more, she dug her heels into the small of his back and angled her hips, encouraging him to up the pace a little.

He took the hint, slipping almost all the way out of her before pushing back in with a groan, arms quaking either side of her head as he held back for her. Her heart doubled in size as she saw the devotion in his crystal gaze and knew her silly pining wasn't unrequited.

"I want to come with you." She muttered, and he sobbed like a child as he nodded, making her smile in satisfaction.

His thrusts quickened, mouth capturing hers as her cunt gripped him and drenched them in her wetness. Circling and grinding deep, he panted through his nose as he undid her and pulled her apart at the seams. His lazy tongue in her mouth matched the stroke of his hard cock inside her, and she rolled her hips to help him along as heat and pressure quickly built within her. She'd been on edge for days, frustration almost a physical thing whenever he kissed or touched her during these long days. She whined low in her throat as he nipped at her lips and licked at her tongue with his, the drag of his cock and groin catching her clit and making her heart race. Tension swirled in her core, flame licking out and up her torso as he let her breathe and began a slow drawl of worshipping words.

"I love you, Sweetheart. Let go. You're safe. I've got you."

Closing her eyes against the stinging tears, she nodded and clung to his neck, body writhing as sweat prickled over her skin. He talked to her through it all. Praising her, how beautiful she was, how tight and good her cunt felt, and how he couldn't wait to have her all to himself, forever. His cock twitched inside her as she fluttered, a high-pitched sound coming free of her chest as she pulled him impossibly deeper. The strain of holding back was evident in his face and neck, muscle and bone jumping under smooth skin, and she'd never felt closer to him.

"I can't last much longer. I need you to touch yourself. I want to feel your pretty cunt draining me dry."

Whimpering, she pried a hand from around his neck, worming it between their sweat-slicked bodies, slipping through her soaked and split folds to find her swollen clit. He grunted as her fingers ghosted his cock where they were joined, making her smile as she swirled that bundle of nerves. Sparks flew through her as her cunt clenched down, his ragged moan making her whine as he thrust slowly but deeply. Spiraling and shaking, she circled her clit as Jake moved within her taut clasp and held eye contact through it all. The tension inside her reached critical levels, throaty cries tearing from her that he smothered with his mouth as his hips sped up. She rocked in time with him, feverish fingers flicking her clit as he sobbed into her open mouth.

His cock pulsed just as the pressure demanded an outlet. Another swipe of her soaked fingers over her nub was all it took, and he thrust once, twice, three times, buried so deeply inside her that she felt every twitch of his orgasm as she shattered. Their moans blended together until they kissed, both quivering and breathless, as release erased the distance between them. Her entire body shook with it, heart pounding as it rippled out in delicious waves of heat. Her mind was gloriously blank as she shuddered and keened, utterly destroyed by him and hoping they never went so long without this again. Aftershocks jumped under her skin, Jake's heavy weight as he collapsed on top of her, the only thing keeping her tethered to reality as she ran her hands down his back and shared breath with him. He made to roll off and pull free of her, but she tightened her legs around his waist and shook her head. He leaned back, searching her face and arching a brow.

"Don't move. Not yet. Just hold me and stay inside me until I fall asleep." She rasped, smirking slowly as his eyes flamed and he made a helpless sound.

He nodded, though, gaze understanding as he shifted them so he could wrap her in his arms, and they lay on their sides, his softening cock still locked inside her saturated cunt. The wicked thrill of it all made her purr and smile into his chest as she listened to his heartbeat. His hands kept moving, stroking over any bare skin he could reach as his breath ruffled her hair. She wanted to stay like that forever. Do nothing but fuck, love, and laugh with each other for the rest of time. Her love for him was out of control as her eyes grew heavy and her breathing slowed to a crawl. Sleep lured her in before long, and neither felt the need to fill the peaceful silence with meaningless chatter. Much was said in gentle touches as the frustration and stress of the past week finally evaporated, and they were all the better for it.

~*~

Thank you for reading! And for any comments or reblogs, if you feel like doing that. I appreciate it and hope you enjoyed it <3

#fanfic #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood #fanfiction #duskwood fandom #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood mc #duskwood jake #smut #paper rings and dirty dreams #smut oneshot #shameless smut #duskwood hacker #duskwood jake x mc #jake duskwood #jake x mc #jake x oc #iamjake #duskwood fanfic #duskwood family #duskwood oneshot #duskood one shot #one shot #fluff and romance #romance fanfiction #smut fanfiction #soft and sexy #hot as fuck #emotional

[featherofdarkness-if]

Rated 17+ for gore, strong language, child abuse, animal abuse, and possible explicit content. It may result change as I progress with the story.

NSFW asks are welcome.

You are a Séraphinical.

A being with long wings, able to fly high up in the sky, a being blessed with immortality, and freedom. The humans admired your species from afar, until it became jealousy.

You witnessed it all. Your family was taken away from you, your friends, your closest ones, everyone, but the worst of all? Your freedom. The freedom your species fought the gods to gain, the many storms you have endured, only to disappear into dust, bloody dust.

You fought back, but despite everything you were captured, left alive for some shady scientific experiments. A question kept pondering into your mind, why were you left alive? You? The black sheep of your family? It remains unknown to you.

Many years have passed, they called you XVIII, your name ripped away from you. You are not just a toy, you’re an invaluable asset to them, you kill people you are tasked to kill. An ‘assassin’, you kill to live.

Will you be a puppet to the end? Or will you finally cut the strings that have been holding you down for all those years? Or perhaps... you will find someone that will hold dear for you?

• Play as a male, woman or non-binary.

• A ‘fully’ customizable MC, except for the wings details, and the height which can be: average or tall.

• Play as an experienced samurai, you have a deep black katana.

• Magic is a thing in this world.

Aialia | She/Her

ay-lia / Face Claim

Rich, is the first word you’d say first seeing her. She has slick black hair reaching below her ear, and clear hazel eyes that reflects the sun. She has tawny skin and leans in the taller average, around 6’1, and is japanese. She always, or most of the time, wear a formal suit, but keeps the tie loose. A silver watch on her left wrist, and a golden chain around her neck. Comparing to others ‘rich’, she cares for the others, always donating and helping the community, she is blessed by the gods... And the one you have been tasked to kill.

Her route is a mix of enemies to lovers and friends to lovers.

Xiyang | He/Him

xy-yang / Face Claim

Your bodyguard, well kind of, he is the one that is tasked to watch over you, in any means, to not let you escape your prison. He has straight black hair that almost reaches his shoulder, many freckles, and piercing black eyes. He is Chinese, has tan skin, and leans in the tall height, around 6'5. He wears a fully black combat suit, wearing short satin gloves. He is cold toward everyone, especially you, yet sarcastic at times, all you know is that he is not human.

His route is enemies to lovers.

Subject MCXII | Gender selectable: (She/Her) or (He/Him)

M-C-X-I-I / Face claim (This is for both genders).

A subject, like you, and the only one you grew close to. They have long hair reaching the end of their back, a mix of cherry red and ginger. They are 6'0 and have a muscled ivory body from all the experiments they have endured through the years. They have a long tail similar to one of a wolf, the same colour of their hair, and you can see some scars. At last, they have warm brown eyes. They usually wear the clothes the scientists provide, a loose white shirt and loose black pants, but they prefer to wear clothing that reveals more of their skin. They are always here to make you laugh, a talent of theirs, and are always sweet, only with you.

Their route is friends to lovers.

More ROs will be added in the future.

Reblogs are always appreciated.

#feather of darkness #if #interactive fiction #interactive novel #twine #twine game #if wip #wip #reblogs are appreciated - as always

[granulesofsand]

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA, descriptions of scars and post-traumatic adaptions

Is the attraction to Astarion from Baldur’s Gate 3 a fetishization of trauma? /gen

Some of the American adoration of him is probably the anglophilia towards a pretty British man, but all these people drooling over him as a fictional character aren’t about to date or keep any kind of relationship with a real-life outerworld survivor.

And that is what he is — a RAMCOA survivor. He had a primary perpetrator and several peers who continued the cycle on him, and he developed seduction as a survival condition after having been trafficked most of his existence (Organized Abuse). He dealt with coercion through magic as a vampire, double binds starting from the time he was turned, and torture that fed into his push-pull attachment behaviors (Mind Control). And, his captor used scarification in preparation for sacrificing him and his trauma in-laws (Ritual Abuse).

I’ve seen it often, particularly in animated media where there’s an added layer of separation, but also towards any male character who has any RA, MC, or OA trauma. I’m more bitter about it because BG3 is roleplay, so the Astarion/Tav fanfic is ambiguous about how much each Tav is an invented character and how much they’re a self-insert.

If people really wanted to have a relationship with a survivor, it would be pretty easy to. As it is, we can’t get someone to stay as an acquaintance, let alone as a friend or partner.

I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to say about our own parallels with the character, but I think it’ll drive the point home.

When he emerged into the sunlight, outsiders fawned over his confusion and attempts to regain his footing. His awkward laughs over all things horrific are clipped and spun into compilations. The first month we were out in the world, we got the police called on us. People back away when we laugh instead of cry.

His tendency towards violence is cute, pictures of him covered in blood are included in thirst traps. Nobody likes it when our sadism shines through, and heavens forbid anyone notice the stains on our skin smell of iron.

I saw someone with a tattoo of Astarion’s scar. Nurses have gagged and whispered about ours. His one big pattern is Infernal, a beautiful tragedy he couldn’t make out. Ours are scattered across our skin like our body was a canvas, but our sigils and pictographs are disgusting to outsiders. We have to fight to keep ourselves from feeling the same.

I know it would be unethical for people to go out and look for trauma survivors to forge bonds with, but it still stings that the same people who blush and squeal at Astarion turn around when they see us in the hall. I want to be loved, and I despise the idealization of our pain when nobody will take the real thing.

We did go to therapy about it. Maybe we’re so used to lying we didn’t notice we were misportraying ourselves, and our therapist let us get away with it. Maybe we lied so well they didn’t notice either. I don’t get what we’re doing wrong.

#bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #osddid #did osdd #ramcoa #tw ramcoa #traumagenic system #cdd system #adaptive system

[animasola86]

A BLESSING AND A CURSE: Making out in the Undercroft

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc Genre: Fluff/Hurt/Comfort // Words: 3.2k

Context: Sebastian had his eyes on the new student from the very beginning. After two tumultuous days full of adventures and slowly getting to know her (and her body), they end up in the Undercroft and things might get a little more heated than before. (But only a little, for the smut version of this prompt, go read A Night in the Undercroft.)

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse and bullying aka how Nebbia got her scar.

Excerpt from Chapter 8:

He must have fallen asleep somehow, because when he suddenly felt something brush against the back of his head, he flinched badly, his whole body shaking awake with a jerk. He spun around and met two wide green eyes and a hand hanging mid-air, fingers outstretched. For a moment they stared at each other a little awkwardly, then he smirked at her and straightened up, leaning his elbow on the couch beside her, his fingers slipping encouragingly between hers.

“What happened?” was her first question as she shifted slightly on the couch, before her eyes moved past him and around the vast room. “And where are we?”

“This is a very secret place called the Undercroft,” he told her quietly. She listened with interest as he went on telling her about how he used to spend hours in here with Anne and Ominis, yet from the thick dust layers all around them she could probably tell that it had been a long while since that had happened. He didn't dwell on that and simply declared this place a refuge from angry adults and annoying ghosts. “And I brought you here after you fainted...”

“I fainted?” she whispered and slightly tugged at his hand. “Oh...”

“How do you feel now?” he asked and raised his free hand to gently move the back of his finger against her cheek, noticing that her skin felt much warmer.

“Better...” she mumbled and leaned back into the cushions, her eyes wandering away for a moment. “Must have been all too much today...” When she looked back at him, she furrowed her eyebrows slightly. “I'm sorry I got us both detention,” she then added and chewed on her bottom lip nervously. “I thought I could... turn things around...”

“It's okay,” he replied with a warm smile, his thumb moving over her palm in soft circles. “Perhaps I should have warned you about Madam Scribner...”

She gave him a strangled chuckle. “That woman was really scary...” she muttered under her breath and looked down at their joined hands. “Perhaps worse than that poltergeist...”

He exhaled a laugh. “Oh yes, she knows how to protect her precious books,” he said with a shake of his head and a rolling of his eyes. “But don't worry too much about it. What's a little detention, right? At least we can spend it together...” he added quietly and watched her closely.

She blushed slightly as she looked at him. A tiny smile broke from her lips, and he found himself staring at her mouth again. For a moment he just looked at her, lost in thoughts he tried to suppress once more. When she squeezed his hand, he almost flinched and blinked quickly.

“Do you... uh... want me to take you back to your common room?” he then asked abruptly, tempted to lean away and let go of her hand when all he could focus on was her tiny frame lying right in front of him, so close, so warm, so inviting.

She shook her head. “I'd rather... stay here, if that's okay,” she whispered. “My roommates were a little cross with me for sneaking in late yesterday...” she added under her breath.

He looked at her with a frown. “You're welcome to stay here as long as you like,” he replied with a small smile before he pursed his lips and threw a glance through the vast room towards the metal gate. “I might have to talk to Ominis,” he muttered quietly, more to himself, before he noticed Nebbia's interested gaze. “He was the one who discovered this room, you know? It's his secret place and I'm not supposed to share it with others...”

“I won't tell anyone,” she said with earnest, tightening the grip of her fingers around his. “I promise. I mean, I don't know anyone I could tell to begin with, but no matter, I will not tell anyone, I swear!”

Sebastian smirked at her, though her words left him a little conflicted. He still felt responsible for taking up most of her time, though he really enjoyed it as well, and having her all to himself did feel surprisingly nice. Selfishly so. Leaning up on his knees, he wrapped his other hand around their joined fingers and watched her. “Thank you,” he said, not just thanking her for her discretion, but for so much more he couldn't quite fathom still.

She smiled at him, and in that moment, as their eyes locked, something unseen moved between them, before they moved closer to each other. Suddenly his hand was on the back of her neck, and she grabbed the front of his shirt, and fractions of a second later their mouths collided. The kiss was at a slightly awkward angle, but nothing seemed to stop them – and somehow he ended up climbing onto the couch to her, pushing her small body into the back of it, halfway covering her with his broader form.

Their lips remained glued together, hands and limbs entangled, her warmth taking over every rational thought he had still left in the back of his mind. Soon his body acted on its own, his fingers moving over fabric and skin, his knee pushing between her thighs, his breaths ragged and shallow. She squirmed slightly beneath him, but never showed any sign of discomfort. With how she dug her fingers into his hair and held him close, she seemed just as eager as he was.

The kiss became messier by the second, their heavy breathing filling the air as the couch squeaked quietly under their combined writhing. Her tongue danced with his, the grip of her hand tightening, before she eventually leaned back, trying to catch her breath, her green eyes wide and her pupils blown under the intensity of whatever they were doing. His lips were tingling, and when he licked them, she was suddenly back in his face, kissing him almost hungrily again.

He chuckled against her, his arm snaking around her body as he rolled them around so she was halfway covering him now, his free hand holding the back of her head, his fingers digging into her soft hair. In her new position, she cupped his face and held it firmly as she pressed her lips to his, eager to taste every inch of his mouth as she slipped her tongue into it. He was yet again surprised about this rather unassuming girl, cute and innocent by day, but he seemed to be able to tickle her deepest desires out of her.

Quite the powerful revelation.

And despite the heat growing between them, it was him who broke the kiss eventually, gently grabbing her face and leaning her away slightly to look at her. They were both out of breath, their lips swollen, their gazes filled with something he could only describe as lust. But he shouldn't push his luck, shouldn't overdo it, shouldn't take things too far too quickly. Even though his teenage body wanted nothing more.

With a deep inhale, he rolled her off of him and simply held her in his arms, his lips ghosting her forehead until he felt the ragged lines of her scar beneath his sensitive lips. He halted then, curiosity taking over. Giving her scar another firm kiss, he then leaned back and looked at her. She met his gaze, chewing on her lips. Because he still couldn't find the right words to ask what he wanted to ask, he raised a hand and gently traced his finger over her skin, his fingertip running along the slightly protruding lines cutting through her right eyebrow.

She closed her eyes and let him touch her, exhaling loudly as she nestled against him, though a slight frown creased her forehead. “It's ugly, isn't it?” she then whispered barely audible.

“No, it's not,” he said quickly, leaning in to kiss her scar once more. “It's a part of you, so it can't be ugly. I mean... you're...” He cleared his throat, and his fumbling for the right words made her open one eye, a tiny smirk playing around her lips. He met her gaze, feeling his cheeks warming up under it. “You're beautiful, is what I wanted to say,” he said quietly, trying to ignore the blush spreading to his ears. “And no scar can change that.”

She opened both eyes and raised a hand to trace her finger over his jaw as she watched him closely. “You don't have to say that...” she whispered.

“But I mean it,” he declared, holding her gaze, before she looked away. She sighed and lowered her hand to rest on his chest, mindlessly playing with his tie. “How did you get it?” he then asked, eager to find out more and no longer caring to find the right words.

He saw her clenching her jaw, her eyes still fixed on his shirt. “It was... given to me...” she replied after a long pause, making him frown deeply. He encouraged her to go on by pulling her a little closer to him, his arm holding her tightly. “In the orphanage, I had to share a room with five other girls...” she started to explain, her voice feeble, her face a mask, but he could see the turmoil in her green eyes. “And they didn't like me very much...”

He felt something hot gathering in his stomach, a tight coil of anger as he listened to her tale. She told him about the dreary circumstances she had to live under, their tiny quarters, and how she could hide all of her belongings under the old mattress of her bunk bed, how they worked all day in the factory and how they were barely fed afterwards.

“One day,” she said quietly, “at the end of our shift, I was so tired I bumped into a box of buttons, one we had already sorted, and I dropped it, buttons flying everywhere. We were supposed to go back to the orphanage and have dinner, but because of my mistake, all the girls had to stay longer. I was already hated by most of them for whatever reason, I don't even know why really, but after that they all hated me even more and they –”

She took a deep breath, and he saw her closing her eyes as she snuggled against him as if trying to hide from the memory. He gently rubbed her arm, working his jaw as the frown grew on his forehead. He had already heard enough, his mind adding the missing pieces of her story as his eyes travelled over the crooked lines of her scar. The anger boiled beneath his skin at these unknown Muggle girls.

But she needed to get it out, share the horrible experience with someone, even though he wanted to spare her the recounting of it, but perhaps it could help her deal with it better. So he let her continue, even if her shaking voice almost broke his heart.

“One morning they ambushed me in bed and... two held me down, while the others... carved lines into my face with blunt glass shards...” A sob escaped her, and he instinctively hugged her tighter, his breaths quickened as her turmoil added to his rage. “My... screams woke the matron, and the girls... quickly let go of me and ran away, leaving me bleeding all over my bed... I was scolded for my noises and the soiling of my sheets, while they... never saw any consequences...”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I'm so sorry,” he said quietly, trying not to speak his mind immediately. His hatred for those Muggles bubbled right beneath his skin. “What a horrible –” Inhaling deeply, he stopped talking and pressed his lips to her forehead instead, holding her in his tight embrace. She grabbed the front of his shirt and leaned into him, slowly relaxing against him once more. “I am so glad you're here now... away from all of that...” he added quietly.

Nebbia's breath steadied against his neck, and he felt her nodding. “Me too...” she whispered, and for a long moment they just lay together on the couch, holding onto each other, their minds racing for different reasons. He could only imagine what she must be going through right now, having remembered such a horrible experience, or all of her time in that terrible place, so he tried frantically to find ways to distract her, make her feel better, show her that she was safe now.

So he gently grabbed her shoulder and leaned her away to look at her, his eyes on her face before she met his gaze, her lips trembling slightly. His hand found her cheek. As soon as he felt her wet skin beneath his thumb, he inhaled deeply and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers for a kiss that would hopefully convey all those things he wanted to show her. She breathed heavily against him and kissed him back, probably trying to forget what she had just shared with him.

They remained locked like this for a while, caught in their desire to just feel the other, before lack of oxygen made him move his lips along her jaw and down her neck. He shifted against her, rolling her around until she was lying beneath him, and as he focused on kissing along the slender column of her neck, he felt her hands rubbing over his back, her heavy breaths making strands of his hair fly.

His lips pressed against her soft skin, and before he knew it, he started sucking on it gently, coaxing a surprised whimper out of her. Looking up to meet her hooded eyes, her lips parted and trembling, swollen from their kiss, Sebastian smiled at her. He saw her blushing even more as she watched him breathlessly. Without another word, he moved back down and continued kissing her sensitive skin, feeling her squirm slightly beneath him under the sensation as he grazed his teeth carefully over her pulse.

Her fingers dug through his hair, and he shivered under the touch. He could feel her rapid heartbeat against his tongue as he moved its tip along her skin, tasting salt and something sweet, and he would have continued his journey along her neck if it wasn't for the quiet moaning of his name she suddenly issued. “Sebastian...”

He raised his gaze, feeling as flustered as she looked, before he leaned back fully and licked his lips. “Sorry, I... got carried away...” he admitted with his cheeks burning as he rolled off of her.

She gave him a small smile, her hand trailing along his arm. “It's okay...”

“No, I... I shouldn't be so... forward with you... not very gentleman-like, eh?” He cleared his throat and inhaled deeply as he settled next to her, his gaze fixed to the vaulted ceiling above them.

“I thought we were past that,” she whispered quietly, a slight smirk audible in her voice. “We're no saints... no proper people... we're just young and eager...”

He chuckled and turned his head to her. “We sure are...”

Smiling at him, she then rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He watched her quietly, before he suddenly jumped up and off the couch, causing her to fall deeper into the cushions without his body to support hers any more. She looked at him with surprised eyes.

“I shouldn't – I... I'll sleep on the floor,” he declared then, siting back down on the stone floor in front of the couch.

“Are you sure?” she asked, further tempting him to do the opposite of what was proper.

“Yes,” he said firmly and lay down on his back, crossing his arms behind his head to give him at least a little bit of comfort. “It's... uh... better this way...” He looked along his body then, quickly rolling onto his side, facing away from her, trying to hide the fact that he'd rather take it further with her right away.

Sebastian heard her shift on the couch, and suddenly her hand was on his shoulder. Swallowing hard, he raised one hand to grab hers, gently slipping his fingers between her own. Leaning his head on his other arm, he then closed his eyes, trying to ignore the churning of his stomach and the blood rushing somewhere lower.

“Good night,” she whispered behind him.

“Night,” he muttered, chewing on his swollen lips, squeezing her hand softly. For a long while he listened to her breathing, feeling the warmth of her fingers against his, remembering yet another very eventful day.

And somehow he had fallen asleep, surprised by how easy it had been, and when he woke up again, he felt something brushing against his face. Opening his eyes, he noticed a delicate hand hanging off the edge of the couch, fingertips playing with his messy hair. For a moment he let her, smiling softly to himself, before he turned around and grabbed her wrist, coaxing a surprised yelp out of her.

His tired eyes met hers, and he smiled even wider when he noticed the blush creeping up her pale cheeks. Slowly he sat up, shifting slightly uncomfortably under the state of his body. Before he could get lost in her eyes again, he lowered his gaze and pulled out his pocket watch, then groaned deeply. “Late for breakfast again...” he muttered and rolled his sore shoulders. “How'd you sleep?” he then asked her, his voice a low rumble, looking back to the girl still lying on the soft cushions of the couch, her hair dishevelled and her lips as swollen as his felt.

“Good,” she whispered quietly, her eyes moving over his face. “You?”

“Well, I had worse,” he admitted with a smirk, and it was true. At least the company had been better this time. And weirdly enough there had been no nightmares to keep him awake.

“We should go, hm?” she mused quietly, before she sat up with a soft squeak falling from her lips, stretching as she did so. He stared at her for a moment, mesmerized by the sweet sound. “Sebastian?”

“Huh? Uh, yes! Yes, we should,” he stammered and cleared his throat, then quickly got up and turned away from her, brushing dust off his trousers, trying to ignore the strain against the fabric. Rolling his eyes at his own body's reactions, he pushed a hand through his hair, before he almost flinched when he suddenly felt a hand on his back.

“I'm ready,” she whispered, and he spun around, meeting her gaze, trying to hold it to not guide her attention elsewhere.

He nodded with a smile and quickly grabbed her hand, then pulled her along through the vast space of the Undercroft. There were no words between them when he guided her back to Central Hall, yet it didn't feel awkward to be silent with her. It felt right. When they parted at the bottom of the staircase leading to the Ravenclaw Tower, she simply smiled at him, and he nodded, squeezing her hand as several other students passed them by, keeping him from saying goodbye to her properly.

“See you in Potions,” he called after her, and she waved at him, her cheeks flushed. Inhaling deeply, he turned away and headed to his own common room, eager to tell his body to calm down again.

[ Read the whole story so far on AO3 ]

[ A BLESSING AND A CURSE MASTERLIST ]

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow fluff #hogwarts legacy fluff #nebbia deluca #a blessing and a curse #sebbia