#I pray for the MC

[2-lines-and-a-circle]

What makes Comte de Saint-Germain a member of team almond?

*please read for more context Team almond: 2 Lines & A Circle : Flavor of Love: Team Almond In-depth Description (tumblr.com)

This man gave me a run for my money with how much I struggled in figuring out what flavor he is.

I started with team coffee cause he’s got that bittersweet feel, then I went and put him into team white chocolate. After that I was too frustrated, I didn't wanna look at his handsome face anymore, so I left him for Vlad. Once I finished Vlad’s route, I was okay, I can go back to you, nope. I couldn’t figure him out.

See, Comte is overly sweet with a gentleman's side to him, but he’s also more possessive than you would think. Not to mention how loyal of a man he is towards those around him, but he’s not going to push one away like a coffee would. If he was a coffee, he wouldn’t fix any of his problems by the time his route ends. With Comte we see him come face to face with his past as well as love the MC in his route.

The storyline is heavier on the plot rather than romance, which was a bit off putting. Plus, he wasn’t sure if he loved the MC as a father or as a lover too. Yet, there remained one thing that didn’t change. Through it all Comte had taken responsibility for the MC and genuinely wanted to help everyone under his care. That stand alone action really got the ball rolling for me.

Then came up the idea of how he is to the rest of the residents. To them he’s someone they can openly rely on when a problem occurs. We see from the very beginning that he’s a quick thinker and Comte isn’t one to abandon anyone either. While he’s kind to those around him that doesn’t make him weak or hinder his judgment. I find that even when Comte is surrounded in trouble, he doesn’t let those personal feelings intervene all too much.

I don’t think many people point this out when we talk about Comte, but he’s quite a strange character. I can’t quite explain this feeling, all I know is that he is a little unhinged at times. Thus, leading me to realize that even if they paint him as this perfect gentleman, he has tons of moments where he’s the opposite.

In the end I figured out all of those things combined made him up to be one thing, a member of team almond. It’s strange really, he’s not your typical team almond member. In comparison to the others, he’s far more white chocolate than the others. On the other hand, he just doesn't sit with the other white chocolates. Making Comte out to be a mixture of white chocolate almond like Kuroo from haikyuu who has both dark chocolate and almond.

All of the reasons I’ve previously talked about can be made to point out how he belongs in team almond. See, team almond takes a character who follows a typical trope and mixes in something different. That’s not to say they don’t share anything in common though, team almonds are all hard to break. We see this with Comte as he continuously fumbles over his relationship with Vlad and the MC.

This man isn’t that similar to the other members of this team for how he is a mix of white chocolate and the rest have more dark chocolate features in them. That being said, I would recommend you check out Nobunaga from Ikemen Sengoku. I know he isn’t very similar to the noble Comte, still he’s got a great story.

[choccy-milky]

🔞NSFW comic🔞

just seb being insatiable when it comes to clora 😇 refractory period?? whats that?? never heard of it

[ TWITTER ]

[ POIPIKU ] and a lil extra doodle:

(aka seb and clora if contraceptive potions didnt exist LMAO.... girl would just be preggo 24/7)

[xaesikk]

im literally going insane, i don’t evn know what to say like? AAARAHEJRHDIEHRK

BRO XAVIER???? HIS "IM GONNA RUIN YOU“ GAZE????????? HIS LIPS ON MC THIGHS??? HIS FUCKING HAND SLIPPING UNDER HER NIGHRGROW?????? THEY WAY HE LEANS ON HER FUCKING LOOK UP AT HERRRRRRREEEERR

FUCCCC AND RAFAYEL?????? THE KISSES?? THE STRING OF SALIVA???? HIS EYES DARKENING BRO IM GONNA EXPLODE I CANT DO THIS, HIM BEING IN BETWEEN MC’S THIGHS??????

IM SO OVERWHELMED I CANT

[ximiiixx]

down, boy!

in which cove has cravings, which is nothing out of the ordinary. but it's what he's craving exactly that might be a bit out of left field.

♡ nsfw, no au, fem + afab reader ♡ gentle dom top cove + sweet sub bottom reader ♡ pre-established relationship, oral sex (reader receiving), cove talks way dirty in this but in a pathetic way ehe, very much inspired by @sugar-omi's pussy hungry cove drabble <3

you'd never really voice it out loud ... but sometimes, cove reminds you of an excitable puppy.

from the way he lights up to how his smile stutters into something so much more jovial to how excited he gets when talking about his favorite things - the centerpiece of which, most notably, is you; as long as he feels comfortable, he brings a shimmering light to the function that nobody else could hope to replicate.

you'll be watching him go about his business with one of those rare ear-to-ear smiles, and you're sure you can imagine a tail wagging so hard it smacks against anyone within two feet of him. it's so cute, you can't help but to think.

and the way he responds to your praises, oh. you wish you could muster up the courage to ask if you could maybe record him going down on you sometime, if only to immortalize how he looks when the saccharine of your honeyed words seeps into him with miniature jolts; every time he squirms and whimpers and nods fervently when you stroke his hair and tell him he's doing so good, he's being such a good boy for you, he's making you feel so good and fuck, you're gonna cum-

he just looks too cute.

you wish you could spend every hour of every day letting him fuck into you, fingers and tongue and cock burying themselves against your gummy walls as he wails and moans and begs you to praise him more, love him more, cum for him just one more time-

but alas. work has had you tangled up lately, and you've only now managed to pull away from your third overtime in the past week. you'd barely managed to make it through the door before your (im)patiently awaiting boyfriend had snatched you right up from the porch and pushed you up against the wall without a word.

and that's where you find yourself now, pressed haphazardly against the wall with your ...

...pants yanked down unceremoniously, pooling at your ankles.

...skirt hitched to your tummy, shoved carelessly up your thighs.

cove's long since made himself comfortable between your plush thighs, nosing your panties out of the way and latching his mouth onto your clit without so much as a hi, how was your day.

which you're normally not opposed to, but it's been a long day at work ... you haven't even put your bags down yet!

"c- cove, c'mon," you protest weakly, unable to put up much of a fight when his tongue's raring to rock against your wet folds. he peers up at you, brow crumpled in a furrow as he whimpers against your cunt, pulling off of you obediently - even if he doesn't seem pleased to have to do so.

you're grateful for the chance to catch your breath ... but you can't help but mourn the loss of his warm, willing mouth.

still ...

"god- what's got you so excited?" you mumble incredulously as you attempt to gulp in a lungful of air without being interrupted by a moan or a whine. "i wasn't gone that long...?"

cove whines, face still pressed against your inner thigh. with how he's refusing to pull off, you could swear he's trying to nuzzle against your skin. "missed you. you were gone so long, and i just missed you, and- please, can i go back to what i was doing? please, please?"

you're no stranger to hearing him beg, but out of nowhere is a little unprecedented ... even as your arousal is practically dripping down your leg, waiting to be cleaned by an eager mouth.

before you can speak, he's grasping onto your thighs with eyes wide and pooling with desperate wetness.

"PLEASE, oh please-! c'mon, i'll be so good for you! i PROMISE!" he cries, gripping your thighs almost hard enough to bruise. "don't i deserve you 'n- 'nd your pretty pussy? haven't i been good for you?"

the mumbled whimpers are accentuated with kiss - and tear - marks against your inner thighs, sending rivulets of pleasure cascading down your spine as you shiver. still, your silence is taken as unrelenting refusal, and cove lets out a sob.

"please, PLEASE just let me fffFUCK you already-! i'll- i'll do anything-!" he nearly wails, sea-blue eyes imploring and needy, so needy. "i'll make you cum 'til you can't walk, i'll- i'll tongue fuck you so good, so GOOD-"

all this filth that's leaving his mouth is making your head spin. you hadn't known cove was capable of saying such degenerate things - even if you find it completely sexy.

... well, today was stressful anyway.

the feeling of your thighs tightening their hold around his face has him perking up almost immediately, a wide - and very grateful - smile overtaking his earlier simper. before you can even warn him to take it a little slower, he's practically nosediving into your cunt and eating you out without so much as a pause to let you prepare.

high whines, moans, and whatever may come between fill the entryway to your home as your boyfriend fucks into your pussy with as little decorum as he usually does when he's eating. the door behind you trembles with every rock of your hips against his face, grinding your cunt against his pliant mouth.

you're sure the neighbors can hear both of you at this point. you're not entirely sure you care.

"god, fuck- 's been so long, 's been forEVER," cove snivels out in a muffled moan against your puffy folds. "fuck, i missed this SO fucking much. why did you keep this from me, WHY- fffffuck, do you even love me anymore-?"

even through the din of your lust and the struggle of your day melting from your shoulders, you can't help but scoff affectionately at his dramatics - which is immediately followed by a loud cry as you feel his tongue curl up into you, as if trying to remind you of all the sensations you had been denying yourself of the longer you denied him.

his tongue only continues to fuck into you at a brutal pace, desperate to drink up everything he'd missed out on since the last time you two had done this - which could not have been more than, what...a couple days ago? god, he's insatiable.

"fuck, waited so long for this- SO fucking long, you have no IDEA- waited too fucking long to feel your tight pussy sucking my tongue back inside you," cove whimpers, each word pushed out against your cunt as he drives his mouth back against you between every pause, as if he can't bear to pull away from your dripping sex for even a moment. "god, feels like it's been AGES. missed you so much, fuck-"

you've never heard him curse this much ... ever. the vulgarity of it all, the obscenity of the slurping sounds beneath you mixed with the thrill of all that filth he's talking - it's enough to tip you over the edge, a moan just shy of a scream muffled into your palm as your vision explodes in stars, your orgasm hitting you so hard your ears ring.

he lets you ride it out on his tongue, drinking up your juices with all the greed of a depraved, starved man. his hands remain firmly fixed on your thighs, a vice grip that could have left marks if he wanted it to; his way of making sure you know you're not going anywhere until he's had his fill of you.

[tellioari]

Mantis mob for the dye mod! This is a new mob that will attack and consume other bugs, and is (mostly) neutral to the player. The mantis can rarely spawn on the surface during the night, and they can spawn in dark oak forests at any time.

The mantis will attack the player if especially hungry or if they feel threatened, but will usually leave them alone. Mantises can be tamed if the player builds enough trust with it by bringing it bugs to hunt - this will allow them to attack and eat more types of hostile mobs, like zombies and husks. Mantises prefer to walk, but they can fly short distances if need be.

[bitofmaehem]

PRAYING TO SCOTT SMAJOR PLEASE GIVE ME A SNEEG IMPULSE SKIZZ TEAM FOR MCC PLEASEEE

listen listen sneeg is so funny and meshes so great with impulse whenever they do anything together and is super supportive all the time he’s great and then skizz and impulse duh the besties AND THEN sneeg has killed skizz the most and it’s turned into a funny rivalry SO IF THEY ALL TEAMEDD the vibes and humor and if they got paired up with another pretty good player it would be both a super fun team to watch and they’d do so well I JUST KNOW IT

HEAR ME OUTTTT PLEASE SCOTT IT WOULD BE SO GOODDDD

[zorosdimples]

MORE, PLEASE, ALWAYS, FOREVER

pairing ༄ simeon x gn!reader

warnings ༄ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. suggestive content, religious/sacrilegious imagery, corruption, manipulation, dubious consent, drugging. simeon calls reader “little one” and “darling.” please let me know if i’m missing anything!

word count ༄ 771

notes ༄ this is my first time posting my writing, so please be kind! this drabble is darker than what i usually write; i’ve just been thinking about simeon and corruption for months… i have fluffier pieces in the works, i promise! <3

“but s-simeon,” you whispered, afraid to raise your voice lest desire drip from each syllable—as if the angel couldn’t see your trembling thighs or the glint of hunger in your gaze. your skin glowed, he observed, all dewy with want; he had never seen anything so beautiful, so vulnerable. your chest heaved as though you couldn’t catch your breath. “you’re an angel.”

“yes?” he hummed, trying not to sound too eager—all while his blood sang for you.

your tongue wetly floundered for a response, brain unable to comprehend anything other than the fierce fire that licked at your very core. oh, if he did not relish your sputtering, dumb state. you hung onto his every word as if he would lead you to salvation.

that’s what angels were created for, right?

“angels, humans, demons—we all have more in common than you think. we all have similar urges, similar needs,” simeon stated, lithe fingers traveling down your sides to dig into the soft flesh of your hips, forcing a breathy sigh from your lips. shame would have eaten you alive had it not been for your desperation.

“but you humans are rather self-centered, no?” he asked with an experimental squeeze that had your eyes fluttering dreamily. “you assume that your corrupted moral compass applies to the other two realms.”

you shivered as simeon leaned so close that you could smell the sweetness—caramel?—that clung to his skin. his lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “angels, as god’s chosen creatures, are encouraged to love deeply.” his fingertips grazed your belly as you swallowed thickly. his hot breath melted your resolve while his thinly-veiled words had your nerves thrumming in anticipation.

patience was a virtue that simeon usually embodied, but the thrill you inspired within him was cracking his restraint. he couldn’t help but push: push himself, push you. he needed to hear you to say it.

he gently cradled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, angling your face to meet his expectant gaze. if you had been in the right state of mind, perhaps you would have noticed how his azure irises were unusually dark, pools of midnight you could drown in.

the smile that tugged at his lips was almost wicked as he probed, “what do you need, little one? tell me.”

the endearment fell on deaf ears as you leaned into simeon’s grasp like a simpering pet. your eyes flickered down to his lips instead of answering his question, biting down on your own almost hard enough to draw blood.

“ah ah,” he chided, pinching your chin, still a hair’s breadth from your face.

you looked like a wounded animal for a moment, eyes wide and shimmering, staring down the barrel of a hunter’s gun. you tried to wriggle from his grasp in embarrassment.

the angel’s grip was unyielding, though. he was certain there would be bruises on your tender flesh come morning—the thought only heightened his arousal. his honeyed chuckle, like a potent sedative, lulled your movements.

“as much as i appreciate your enthusiasm,” simeon said with featherlight strokes to your burning cheek, “i need you to use your words, darling.”

you whimpered in response. your brain was fried, incapable of intelligent thought. all you could do was feel and act—instinct usurping rationale—more animal than human. all you could muster was a breathy and pathetic “please,” punctuated by the unshed tears that sparkled in your eyes.

“please what?” he cooed with faux sympathy. his free hand skimmed down the slope of your shoulder and the curve of your arm to ultimately settle on the fat of your thigh. the movement caused a tremor to ricochet through your body.

he looked at you like he wanted to devour you, to pick your bones clean, to consume you so wholly that not even your soul remained. and maybe it should have frightened you. but all you wanted was to lay yourself bare and let the angel feast on you until there was nothing left.

“i need you, simeon,” you finally breathed, soft as a prayer.

as soon as the words left your bruised lips, he lifted you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist. you exhaled a warbled moan when he dipped down to scrape his teeth against the column of your throat. “that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he murmured into your skin.

you were too far gone to answer—not that simeon cared. he finally had you where he wanted you, writhing and whining prettily. he made a mental note to thank solomon for the spell that had his little human begging for more, please, always, forever.

[guiiay]

meg and another meg and an. aphromeg from 2021. hades my beloved

[azul23blue]

C/Saint Michaela on TikTok

NOT A SECOND GOES BY AND MY BRAIN THINKS ABOUT SYLUS AND THE MC

[shadowtriovibes]

‘til we get the healing done

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow × f!MC

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, mentions of blood and injury, explicit sexual content, fingering, unprotected PIV sex

Summary: post-hogwarts AU where reader/MC is a Healer at St. Mungo’s and Sebastian is a Gringotts Cursebreaker ✨ pretty much porn-with-little-plot, but mind the mentions of blood/injury!

“Wiggenweld ought to take care of this, for the most part,” you tell him. “You’ll probably still have a scar.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs. “You witches love wizards with scars, or so I’ve been told.”

You pointedly ignore his comment as you return to your potions cabinet to start assembling a salve.

It’s barely half past nine in the morning when one of your fellow Healers lets you know that you’ve been requested in the reception area.

“Already?” you smirk. “I haven’t even checked on the Dittany stores yet.”

“I’ll take care of it,” she says easily. “Your favorite patient is here, he’s insisting he won’t see anyone else and he’s bleeding all over the floor.”

Bleeding? Merlin.

You curse under your breath as you quickly make your way to the reception area, where a surly-looking Welcome Witch is scowling as Sebastian Sallow leans against one of fellow Cursebreakers for support. He’s drenched in blood, but mercifully he’s still standing.

“Morning, miss,” his coworker says politely. “Apologies for the mess.

You sigh wearily and wrap one arm around Sebastian’s waist so his companion can shift the deadweight of his body onto you.

“It’s not a problem,” you insist. “I can take him from here.”

“Tell them I’ll be right back,” Sebastian slurs tiredly. “She’ll fix me right up.”

“He will not be back today,” you insist sharply.

Sebastian’s coworker chuckles as he wipes his bloody palms against his pant legs. “I assumed as much. I promise, we’ll send him right home if he tries anyway.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

The older man pats Sebastian encouragingly on the shoulder before Apparating out of the lobby, and you motion for another Healer to assist you in walking him away from the gawkers lingering in the reception area once it becomes apparent that his left leg is entirely unusable.

“Mister Sallow,” you drawl as you slowly walk him back to one of the examination rooms on the trauma floor. “What in Merlin’s name have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Classified,” he insists, but you’re sure he’s just being cheeky.

Once you arrive, you and your coworker inelegantly wrangle him onto the sturdy wooden exam table in the middle of the room. He quickly lets himself out once you assure him you’re able to tend to Sebastian alone — you’re always swamped at St. Mungo’s, and you’re sure his assistance is needed elsewhere.

Sebastian, with that ever-present smirk still on his face, manages to hold himself up even as a slow stream of blood trickles down his calf.

“It’s good to see you too, by the way,” he drawls.

You roll your eyes as you pull the exam room door shut, casually turning the lock and pulling the privacy divider across the window. If Sebastian notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You look positively dreadful,” you tell him.

It’s not untrue. He’s several shades paler than usual and there’s blood smeared all across his chest where his shirt has been sliced to ribbons, and the left leg of his trousers is in a similarly poor state.

However, even what would otherwise be a mortal injury can’t tamper his good-natured expression, nor does it cause his warm brown eyes to sparkle any less when he sheepishly meets your gaze.

“I swear, this time it was not my fault,” he begins.

“You say that every time,” you remind him. “Eventually, I’m going to stop believing you.”

He laughs and then winces, pressing a hand to the deep laceration he must still be concealing beneath his shirt, given the bloodstains.

“Go on, Seb,” you sigh. “You know what I’m going to ask you.”

“Why, are you suggesting I should take off my robes?” he asks teasingly. “A bit forward of you, mind, but I’ll abide.”

“We’re well past modesty at this point,” you remind him.

Nevertheless, you turn your back — ostensibly to prepare a tonic for him — while he undoes the buttons of his shirt and gingerly pulls the tattered remnants of it away from his bloodied skin.

He makes a pained noise when he attempts to do the same with his trousers, so you quickly turn and rest a hand on his thigh.

“Let’s get you fixed up here first,” you offer softly, gesturing to the nasty-looking gash across his ribcage. “Then we’ll get to your leg.”

“You’re sure that I won’t bleed out in the meantime?” he asks, only half joking.

“I’m positive,” you say reassuringly. “But I’ll have you slowly sip this while I take a closer look.”

You pass him the glass of tonic and nudge his free arm to the side so you can dab at his injury. You’ve become quite used to seeing blood in your line of work, but something about seeing Sebastian take slow, careful breaths as you trace your fingertips over his broken skin makes your stomach lurch.

You’ve been practicing as a Healer at St. Mungo’s for several years now, and not a month goes by without Sebastian limping (or occasionally being hauled) into the reception with some sort of bizarre injury he’d earned as a Cursebreaker at Gringotts.

At first you’d worried after him. He’d always been a brilliant student, so you weren’t quite sure how he managed to harm himself so frequently without putting his employment in jeopardy. But eventually you learned that Sebastian was, in fact, an excellent Cursebreaker.

…He just also happens to be the most reckless.

When you glance up at him to check his face for any signs of pain, you catch him staring at you.

“Drink that,” you remind him, nodding at the dark-colored liquid in his glass. “You’ll feel better.”

Carefully, Sebastian lifts the glass to his lips and takes a small sip. Immediately he makes a face.

“That’s foul,” he sputters. “What is that?! It tastes like metal.”

“It’s a tonic for blood loss,” you explain with a wry smile. “It’s packed with iron. Trust me, you’re going to need it.”

He grumbles under his breath as he takes another sip. You wait for him to swallow before you press firmly against the wound — you’ve learned the hard way that neglecting to do so would result in your being sprayed with tonic.

“Wiggenweld ought to take care of this, for the most part,” you tell him. “You’ll probably still have a scar.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs. “You witches love wizards with scars, or so I’ve been told.”

You pointedly ignore his comment as you return to your potions cabinet to start assembling a salve.

“Anything else I should know about your wounds?” you ask him over your shoulder. “Nothing venomous or toxic to be concerned about?”

“No,” he says, pausing to exhale before admitting, “It’s from a dragon.”

You nearly drop your bottle of Wiggenweld. “A dragon?!”

“See, now, I knew you would be upset when I got around to telling you,” he says with a grin that looks more like a grimace.

“What were you doing with a dragon?” you demand. “They’re not supposed to be kept anywhere near you!”

You’ve heard quite a bit about the inner workings of Gringotts since Sebastian joined the Cursebreaking department. The two of you never did seem to be able to keep secrets from each other — ever since you were teenagers, you’ve been nothing but honest, sometimes to a fault.

(…Well. You suppose if you were truly being honest, you’d tell him that you can’t stand hearing about the witches he dates whenever he pays you a visit. But you don’t like to examine precisely why that is.)

“Like I said, it wasn’t my fault,” he insists. “They brought in a young one from Romania that’s still in training and it got loose.”

You tut under your breath and mix in your highest concentration of Wiggenweld with a basic topical salve. The scent of Dittany is strong, but you know it’ll do the trick.

“Suppose I’m lucky it was a small one,” he continues. “If it had been one of the fully-grown ones they keep down below, I’d be in a box by now.”

“Hush,” you murmur distractedly. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“No?” he teases. “I suppose you wouldn’t. I’m your only friend in London, you’d be hopeless getting on without me.”

You roll your eyes and return to the exam table with your salve.

“You are not my only friend,” you argue.

“Even so, I’m still your best friend,” he replies, nonplussed. “…What have you got there?”

“This is to close the wound,” you explain. “It will sting, so I’ll count to three and then I’ll go as fast as I can, alright?”

“You’re going to go on one just like you always do,” he sighs.

“Am I getting that predictable?” you ask coyly.

“Actually, ye— Merlin’s bloody beard!”

With no warning, you scoop up a glob of salve and start to paint over Sebastian’s jagged wound, the tips of your fingers glowing a soft, cool blue as you channel a bit of your magic into the gash in his side. Before your eyes the torn skin starts to knit closed. Like you suspected, the reformed skin is pink and tender as is any new scar, but at least it looks completely healed and not at risk for reopening when Sebastian inevitably goes right back to work tomorrow.

“You’re a menace,” he grits out. “Honestly, that was cruel.”

“Come off it, you’re fine,” you tease him. “And it’s always easier if you don’t see it coming.”

“For you,” he grumbles.

You trace your fingertips over his fresh scar a few times to confirm that you’ve fully covered the would in salve. You force yourself to remain professional, but it’s extremely hard not to get distracted by how much muscle he’s built up here in his core since your days at Hogwarts.

“Let’s let that sit while I have a look at your leg,” you eventually say. “Think you can lift your hips up for me?”

Sebastian leans back on his hands and lifts himself up so you can tug his shredded trousers off, letting them fall to the floor in a bloody, rumpled pile.

(Thank Merlin he hadn’t foregone undergarments today.)

“Oh, Seb,” you murmur.

His thigh is mangled. Three long, angry-looking slashes run from below his hip to just above his knee, each still wet with blood.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he says under his breath.

You sigh and reach for his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Drink the rest of your tonic and I’ll patch you up,” you tell him. “…I’m glad you came to me. This is beyond what a typical Healer is equipped for, Sebastian.”

“I know,” he admits. “But you’re the only witch I’ll see regardless.”

You blush a bit and turn away, reaching for your pot of salve.

The two of you are both quiet while you work. Sebastian occasionally bites back a curse or a low groan while you work the salve into his wounds, forcing himself to chug the rest of his regenerative drink.

(…You feel horrifically guilty for how your body is reacting to his sounds.)

“How are you feeling?” you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It aches,” he tells you transparently. “But — but like it’s healing, not like it’s getting worse.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel, unfortunately,” you explain. “Even healing comes with its own set of aches.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that,” he mumbles. “Honestly, it reminds me of how I felt when Violet and I ended our courtship.”

“O-oh?” you stutter.

“Well, I suppose she’s the one who ended it,” he says with a wry grin. “She said she was sick and tired of me showing up on her doorstep with a new injury each week. I don’t blame her one bit.”

“Seb, that’s horrible,” you coo. “How heartless.”

You’re just finishing up applying salve to the last few centimeters of his wound when Sebastian gently tips your chin up so you’ll meet his gaze.

“Do you want to know what else she said to me?” he asks softly.

You swallow nervously and whisper, “What?”

“She said that it’s pathetic that I keep offering to put myself in harm’s way on the offchance I’ll get to visit my Healer,” he tells you.

His gaze dips down your mouth and you inhale sharply as he drags his thumb across your lower lip.

“That’s — that’s not true, is it?” you whimper.

“Of course it’s true,” he confesses. “The thought always crosses my mind. Whenever I offer to take a crack at opening a surrendered vault or unraveling a protective jinx on one of the new deposit boxes, I always think, ‘If I’m hurt, at least I’ll get to see you.’”

Suddenly you feel like you’re the one who’s lost several pints of blood — dizzy, flushed, not quite sure if you’re imagining all this or not.

“Sebastian,” you murmur. “…You have to promise me you’ll stop.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he admits earnestly, tilting his hand to gently cup your face and coax you into leaning closer. “It’s all I can think about anymore — the next time I get to see you, and feel your hands on me.”

Instinctively you reach out your hands to steady yourself, propping yourself up against the tops of his thighs.

“S-sorry,” you quickly stammer. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” he breathes. “Just… come closer.”

He cups both hands around your jaw to bring your face to his, gently pressing his lips against yours.

“Seb,” you breathe against his mouth.

“We should’ve done this so long ago,” he murmurs. “Please, love. Say you feel the same way.”

“I… Sebastian, of course I do, but—”

He hauls you against his chest before you can even steady yourself. You’re thankful your work on his wounds seems to be holding steady as you shamelessly climb into his lap, testing the support limits of the wooden examination table.

“Let me touch you,” he whines against your mouth. “I need it, I need to feel you.”

All this time, it’s always been your hands on him — pressing closed his wounds, extracting nauseating curses and beastly venom from his body, infusing your unique magic with traditional Healing techniques to restore him to himself.

Now he’s begging to put his hands on you, and you find yourself powerless to resist.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Anywhere, just — touch me.”

He desperately tugs on your unflattering lime green robes until they fall to the floor until you’re left with just your fitted blouse and skirt. As far as propriety goes, you’ve never been this underdressed in one of your exam rooms.

“Take this off,” he growls, bunching up a handful of your blouse in his fist.

“We — we shouldn’t do this here,” you weakly protest.

“No one’s going to come in,” Sebastian counters. “We have all the privacy we need.”

(Damn him, now you’re positive that he’d seen you lock the door.)

“I — I shouldn’t,” you whisper.

Sebastian leans in and presses his teeth against your neck.

“How long have we already made ourselves wait?” he reminds you in a low voice. “I could’ve died today and we never would have had the chance.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine. “You’ve been hauled into St. Mungo’s on death’s door a dozen times, it doesn’t mean we should have sex at my place of work.”

“Love,” he croons, and you feel all your resolve melt away.

With a frustrated groan, you hastily tug your blouse free from your skirt and wrestle with the buttons while Sebastian unhelpfully runs his hands all across your body.

Once you’re rid of your shirt, you tug your skirt up so he can slide a hand between your thighs.

“Gods, yes,” he moans. “This is what I’ve been wanting, darling. I needed to feel you right here.”

You whimper softly as he grinds the heel of his palm against your aching core.

“Can I go inside?” he asks softly, and you aren’t sure if he’s merely asking to move your panties aside or if he’s suggesting something more, but either way the answer is a fervent yes.

With one deft hand he tugs the soaked fabric between your thighs to one side and traces two fingertips along your slit. You’re scandalously wet already, just from his ardent confession and his eager hands on your body.

Then Sebastian easily presses those two fingers inside you and you hunch in toward him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he whispers in your ear. “How does that feel?”

“G-good,” you stutter.

“Just good, hmm?” he inquires. “Should I give you more, then? I need you to feel great.”

It’s no surprise that Sebastian would be a skilled lover, but what really has you trembling in need in his lap is how clearly he wants to make you feel loved, and not just serviced himself.

You can tell that this gets him off; that tonic of yours has certainly done its job, if the rigid hardness between his thighs is any indication.

“I w-want you,” you manage to force out. “Quickly, I just — I don’t care if it’s rushed, I need you inside.”

Sebastian curses against the hinge of your jaw and carefully extracts his hand from between your thighs so he can pull his cock out of his undergarments, stroking himself with his still-wet hand.

“Like this?” he asks you. “I don’t know if I’ve got the energy for much else.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Just… let me.”

Now that you can properly see him, you realize he’s, er, gifted, and he’ll be a lot to take in this position. But you want him, you want to make him feel good just as badly as he wants the same for you, so you steady yourself as best as you can on your knees as you hover over him. With one hand you keep your panties pulled to the side and your skirt tucked away, and with the other you hold him steady as you sink down.

“Gods,” you whine. “I — I can barely…”

It’s nearly impossible to get the leverage you need on a table this narrow. As you take him in, you feel driven through, practically impaled by him as you cling desperately to his shoulders.

“Go on,” he grunts. “Take me, love, you can.”

“I can’t,” you nearly sob.

But then you realize you’ve done it. The insides of your thighs are flush with the tops of his, the remaining traces of salve on his skin making it all too easy for you to grind forward until you’re completely seated on top of him.

“That’s it,” he groans. “You’ve got it, you’ve taken me so well.”

It’s shameful how little praise from Sebastian makes you squirm and keen in his lap like a simpering fool.

He leans in close to your ear and asks you, “Do you think you can ride me?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper. “Yes, I want to.”

As soon as you start to move, the filthily wet sounds of your skin smacking against his makes you blush all the way down to your chest. It’s lewd and raunchy in a way you’ve never felt with any man with whom you’ve been intimate.

(Those men weren’t Sebastian, you think helplessly.)

“Fuck,” Sebastian growls in your ear. “Don’t stop, please, love.”

There’s absolutely nothing that would stop you now, you think. The Minister of Magic himself could come in and fire you on the spot and it simply wouldn’t matter. You feel incredible — it’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, and never by a man who you’ve truly loved like Sebastian.

He seems similarly overwhelmed, his hands mindlessly traveling over your waist, your breasts, and even up to your face so he can pull you down and messily kiss you into delirium.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, please…”

“What?” he pants. “Anything, love, tell me.”

“Touch me,” you plead, and then his hand is between your legs right where you need it. His thumb grinds against that sensitive spot that brings you to the edge, over and over in tight, determined circles until you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck to dampen the desperate sounds you let out as you climax.

“Perfect,” he breathes. “That’s — you’re perfect, fuck.”

Sebastian’s undoubtedly weakened and exhausted, but he nevertheless manages to find the energy to grind up into your wrung-out, languid body until he finds his release. He stays buried inside you afterward, fighting through his sensitivity to keep you close and murmur soft words of praise into your hair.

When you finally summon the strength to climb off of him and tug your skirt back into place, you mumble, “We cannot let this happen again.”

“Just at St. Mungo’s, right?” he asks with a suggestive smirk. “Because I, for one, would very much like it to happen again.”

You say nothing as you button up your shirt, but you eventually allow yourself to be pulled into a slow, fervent kiss that lets him know he’ll be getting his way.

[talasintahan]

i will always be there for you, raine. always.

aerin x raine for an art trade with @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

[peachy-doodles]

posting these without context kshgkhgshk

made a typo in chat. 500 injured.

[myokk]

Eloise 😇😇😇

[spicycakes]

Played Crown of Ashes and Flames by @coeluvr and I've been loving it so I drew up some scenes from a small part of the game with my MC :)

[read from left -> right]

POV: You broke your promise (1/2)

[the--firevenus]

Now... Why they make Shakir sounds so gay for the magister, like I'm sorry?????? 😭🖐️💀 THE WAY HE GIGGLE WHEN MERLIN SAYS "you bet" AFTER HE PROPOSED TO FIGHT MERLIN NEXT TIME FOR SURE??? LIKE?????????

Gay, homosexual, homosapiens, okay okay I will stop joking now, but I'm not wrong with the strong homoerotic they have,,,,,,,HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!? , anyways I'm only one guy with one hand to draw sir please

[marathedemonoverlord]

So I think I'm over my Obey Me Phase or like at least over Nightbringer because it's Season was shit but just you know food for thought...

Aint it funny how MC is now completely isolated from other humans/their friends/family/pets?

Like my friend and I were talking about it and like imagine MC has HUMAN/MORTAL family and friends that they talk to every time they were separated from the brothers. Like whenever the Immortals really tries them or pushes them they can go to their human friends for like a palate cleanser and a clear head/remind themselves and ground them to the reality of their situation/support from NOT blind lemmings. Like sort of remind them that they're still human and not on the same playing field as immortal Demons/Angels/Sorcerers

But now in Nightbringer that's literally stripped from them; MC has NO ONE outside of the Brothers/Immortals they're literally FORCED to bond with their circle of dysfunctionals and its like now you are stuck in that toxic friend circle because literally your circle of support hasn't been born/exist yet. That's fucking horrific.

No wonder MC is far more clingy and annoying in Nightbringer than they are in OG; Every lesson is a chip away at their original personality and sanity to replace it to the codependent creep MC is now lol.