#muriel x apprentic

[vesuviaweekly]

Vesuvia Weekly: Prompt for Jan 10th - 24th

You voted, so here it is!

Your MC/their LI's dynamic

The masterlist for all posts tagged with this prompt will be under the poll for next week's prompt! Tags will be the usual #vesuvia weekly, and for this prompt specifically, #MC/LI dynamics ^.^

MASTERLIST

Brainrot and the M6 (headcanons by @iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia)

Wilmina/The Cast's Dynamics by @hewwo-its-floof

Marissa x Portia by @zidisclowning

Raina/The Cast's dynamics (OC) by @vegaspng

Taduki & Muriel by @taduki

Merf's Character Dynamics With the M6 by @themushroomgoesyeet

My MC and their LI dynamics by @fox-daddy

juligale in 5 minutes by @star-strand

Maya (MC) and Julian by @vodyaniks

Julem in a Nutshell by @samtheplatypus

The Arcana Main 6 x Dara by @theintrovertbean

The Arcana Main 6 x Fallon by @jacely

LI and Apprentic Dynamics by @mermaidchan05 (feat art by @missrabbitart and @ace--of--swords)

Yusra and M6 by @bahrtofane

MC x non main LI by @fox-daddy

OCs x Arcana Characters by @jeridoesntdourls

Apprentice and LI Dynamics by @dolceaspidenera

MC & M6 dynamics by @arcanarubinaito

[snikker-doooo]

Love like yours fest - The Start of Something New

Decided to try participate in @lovelikeyoursfest​ (even though I fell through on Aprentice April, and Inktober - go me). This is the day 1 prompt, The Start of Something New.

Please be kind - this is actually the first thing I’ve written in about 10 years. 

The Boy in the Blanket

Muriel x Apprentice Snikker

395 words

For as long as they could remember, it had just been the two of them. Pale skin, unmarked by blemishes. Hair the colour of the blood that ran through their veins. They held hands some days. Others, they rested their foreheads against each other. There was no room to move, only room to dream. In the first sister's dreams she traveled the lake and no further. Her hands delving into the black, lifeless, void. Her eyes fixated on the lake bed. She saw the past of her people. She saw their rites and passages. She heard their songs and voices. She would sink into the depths. the water devouring her. In the second sister's dreams she was, at first, from the distant shore. She would turn her back on the lake. Shutting her eyes she would awaken to the streets of some distant city. The lanterns that lit the streets almost overbearing when compared to the darkness of the lake her people called home. The lights surrounding her. The boy often failed to sleep, the second sister noticed. He hid in the corners of plazza’s and the end of alleyways. His dark, matted hair blended him well into the void, but his bright green eyes gave him away. He hid wrapped in a green blanket with patterns that seemed vaguely familiar to the second sister. The second sister would watch him with a morbid curiosity. The boy was often lost and alone so she would help him out where she could. Knocking an apple from a cart. Distracting the baker so he would forget about a loaf of fresh bread. She would see him weeping, the blanket covering his shaking body. “I can feel you,” one day he uttered, shattering the silence that surrounded her. She had never heard him speak before. “Who are you?” he asked. She could not answer him. The air had been stolen from her lungs. The ice water rushed through her. A hand grabbed her ankle, and the second sister's scream filled the void. “Another girl.” An old woman announced as she cut the cord that was tangled around the second sister. Cold as the ice in the lake that surrounded them, the newborn was thrust into the arms of the Shepherd wife. The new mother wailed in pain. The two newborn sisters clutched to her chest and cried with her.

[kidgrimm]

Alice and julian part 3

i know people are going to ask why vlady was messing with alice. its simple really. Boredom.

part 2-https://kidgrimm.tumblr.com/post/188840618086/alice-and-julian-part-2-part-1

part 1-https://kidgrimm.tumblr.com/post/188778301221/alice-and-julian-part-1-this-is-going-to-be-most

[collective-laugh]

Request - Soulmate Preference for the Main Six

Anon asked: Okay, Bruh hear me out, soulmate au for the main six? 

I didn’t know which soulmate AU you wanted, so I used the string one (because it’s my favorite lol) If you wanted a different one, just send another request and I’ll get it out asap! Hope you like it!

The AU: Two people are connected by one magical string that leads them together when fate wills it.

Asra liked to tug on his string sometimes, and when the string tugged back, it comforted him to know that whoever was on the other end was in the city. He’d follow it for hours, but he knew better than to push the hands of fate, knew that he wouldn’t find whoever was on the other end of that string until the universe wanted him to. He liked to imagine who it might be, imagine what they look like and what they like and if they can do magic too. His mind runs wild, and he wishes there was a way he could know what they looked like, at the very least. He wants to know them, wants to be able to know who he’s supposed to love for the rest of his life.

After Asra finds them, he laughs, and tears spring to his eyes, and all the situations that he considered, every little conversation starter or funny little thing he could’ve said to start their relationship off, but they step into his shop, and they smile at him first, and he…they tell him that they were looking for a deck of tarot, and Asra laughs, rendered speechless for the first time…ever.

 Julian thought it was romantic, in a sense, and then he scoffed, thinking that whoever was on the other end of that string could certainly do so, so much better, and he tries to take one of his scalpels and cut the little red string right off his finger. And…it splits in two, hanging sadly on Mazelinka’s spare bed. He felt empty, inside, like something was stolen from him, but he could tell if it was because the string was gone, or because he was guilty that the string was gone. He ties it back together, the butchered mass of tied red string, and he prays that the person on the other end of the string can forgive them, and, hopefully, still find them.

Julian knows it’s them before the string slips off his finger, by the way they wear their string like a banner of pride, by the way they smile at him and the way their smile just lights up the room, and they just look at him with all the hope and trust he thinks he doesn’t deserve, and he melts before them. They keep holding him in such high esteem, and he can’t grasp why this perfect stream of light want to be with someone like him, but he learns to accept the love he deserves.

 Nadia learns to ignore her string. She considers chopping it off, especially after she marries Lucio, because how could she cause someone so much pain as to drag them along on a journey not even she wants to trek? But, she allows herself to hope, not wanting to interfere with the hands of fate, and resigns herself to a life of motions, and stepping through days while she fell away into Lucio’s shadow, just as she had with her sisters all those years ago. She finds herself staring at the horizon when she rides, wondering if she could chase after the string and find whoever was on the other end and spoil them silly, because all she wanted was someone to love and love her equally. The horizon gives her no answers, and all she can do is chastise herself for being so foolish.

Her love comes after she loses all memory of her husband and the headaches have settled into her mind, edging their way into her sleeping pattern. She hastens to the shop that fateful night, and hardly realized that the tired apprentice behind the counter was none other than her soulmate. She paused, looked them over, and watched as their string fell to the ground, completely unceremoniously, and she can only wonder who this person was that they were not only important enough to be her soulmate, but to appear in her visions.

 Muriel cuts his string off three times in his life, and every time, it reattaches itself around his finger after he sleeps. The first was while he was still in the arena, still the ‘Scourge of the South’ because he knew he didn’t deserve love, not with all the lives he’d taken. The second was before Lucio died but the plague was running rampant. He didn’t want to find love, didn’t want to see his soulmate suffer, so he knew that if he found them in the midst of the plague, he wouldn’t be able to go on. The third time was just before he met them, as he sat in the comfort of his – his very own – home in the woods, and he sliced it off with a kitchen knife, and relished in the few moments of being completely disconnected from Vesuvia, if only for the night.

They’re not what he’s expecting. They smiled at him from the very start, eyes squinting as if they recognized him but couldn’t remember his name, and then squealed when they saw that he was their soulmate. They were kind, and good, and so very talented at magic, and they saw him as a human, as a man, and wanted him to be free more than anything. He’d become convinced this person couldn’t exist, couldn’t love him, but they don’t push, don’t try to entice; instead, they ask to be a part of his life, and walk through it with him, despite the looming danger threatening to tear them apart.

 Portia double knots her string just to be sure she doesn’t lose it, though she’d never really heard of that happening. It was better to be on the safe side, and she knew it was stupid of her to wait up day in and day out for her soulmate to step in and sweep her off her feet, but she knew that under her snark and realist demeanor, she was one hell of a romantic, and couldn’t wait to meet whoever it might be the universe chose for her to love. She hoped she loved them – gods, that kept her up day in and day out, thinking of how she might not love them, or they might not love her, or how they might just stay with her because they were soulmates and it was expected. The thoughts only made her nauseous, so she tried to swear them off until she met them – it was no use judging them before she met them, right?

Portia couldn’t decide whether she was excited or terrified when she bumped into them while on an errand run in the city. Before they could even decide if they were going to walk away from her or help her pick up her things, their strings are falling off, and Portia can forget about remembering the four digit code to the stupid gates because there her soulmate was, standing over her and holding their hand out to her, and she felt like she might freak out. But she was happy. She was so elated she felt like her heart might burst right from her chest, so she throws her arms around them and then, holding them at arm’s length, makes sure to ‘get a good look at them’. The universe did right by her, at least.

 Lucio doesn’t really believe in the whole soulmate thing – his parents were certainly not soulmates, and his mom still had her string around her finger like a damn ornament. So, he walks through life enjoying the finer things, those empty vices, and grabs at power with all the help he can possibly get, and he marries Nadia, and he takes over Vesuvia, and he rules, and he wins, and life is finally looking up for him. But the people murmur about his string, love to gossip about how he didn’t wait for the ‘one’. Public image is everything, and thus, he could have been excited for the plague. If it didn’t get him as well, of course.

It’s actually quite a funny story. Lucio was certain that he’d be saying those exact words years in the future if he and this soulmate actually end did up ‘by the cosmic powers of the universe’, and he found some humor in the fact that the love of his life, his soulmate, met him while he was a ghostly, spectral, goat man, bleating about the injustice of it all and planning on taking their body. It was cruel, it was unusual, and it brought a sneer to Lucio’s goatly little lips. The person can only gape at him, at the string that chose then, of all times, to slip off, and they only shake their head and mutter “shit”. He decides immediately that he already likes them.

[writing--whore]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Muriel x reader

Summary: You find a man injured in the woods but he's hiding something from you. This isn't the first time you've met.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Smut

You didn’t know what you’d expected from following a wolf deep into the woods but coming across a man hunched over and covered in blood was near the end of your list.

“You have to let me help you,” you protest.

You can’t make out the extent of the damage but the amount of blood - covering his skin and coating the air with a copper smell - tells you enough.

“I’m fine,” he refuses - voice croaky.

“You’re going to bleed out, please let me help you.”

You swoop down and grab his wrist to drag him to his feet but he pulls away.

“Please,” you repeat.

Unfaltering, you stare into the green of his eyes. His eyebrows furrow as he matches your stare. You can’t understand why he’s so adamant on refusing your help.

“Look, I can’t just leave you, I-“

He interrupts, “well you should.”

His expression changes to something you can’t quite decipher but what you can see is that his skin is growing alarmingly pale.

You grasp his wrist and you don’t let him pull away this time. In his worsening condition, he can hardly put up a fight. Somehow, you touching him seems to pain him even more than his wounds.

“Let me take care of you. You need my help.”

He makes no reply and you take that as an opportunity to haul him to his feet and wrap an arm around his waist for stability. In the panic of it all, you had failed to notice just how large and heavy this man was; it took most of your strength to keep him upright.

He explained, “I don’t live too far away.”

Nodding, you let him lead. Blood begins to coat your hand and your clothes that are pressed against his side. His breathing grows ragged while you both stagger forwards. You were right to persist in helping him, you’re not sure if he would have made it otherwise. Although, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold him up for. All of your senses narrow as you focus your entire attention on striding forwards. Eventually, a clearing appears and you can make out a small wooden hut in the distance.

You push forwards and kick open the door.

Once you’re inside, he peels your arm off himself and drops down into a chair. He clutches his abdomen and focuses on catching his breath.

He manages to say, “thank you for your help, you can go now.”

His eyes refuse to meet yours as he removes his threadbare cloak.

“No, you can’t possibly tend to this yourself. Look, I’m apprenticing as a magician, I can help you.”

People often have some reaction to you being a magician - surprise, fear, intrigue – but this man has no reaction.

After a moment of silence, you persist, “it’ll only take me a second.”

Kneeling down by his chair, you lay your hands on his abdomen. He tenses but he doesn’t move away. You close your eyes and you feel your magic conjuring to your fingertips. The wounds are even worse than you’d thought. Claw marks have been gouged deep into his skin. You can feel the pain pulsating and twisting deep within him. You’d never encountered such a severe wound before and it's taking all your energy to seal his skin back together. Sweat breaks out over your skin as his skin stitches together without even leaving a scar.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

That’s odd. You don’t remember telling him your name.

Before you can say anything, you’re hit by a wave of vertigo. Carrying him here and using your magic had completely drained you. The room start to spin violently and you find yourself tipping over until your head hits the floor and darkness fills your vision.

***

Fire crackles. Fur blankets rub against your skin. This isn’t your bed.

There’s a man sitting cross-legged in the corner - whittling a piece of wood. You try to remember how you got here. There was a wolf. She seemed concerned and you’d followed her into the woods and then… And then… You can’t recall what had happened and how you’d ended up here.

Despite the man’s large stature, he doesn’t frighten you. You’re sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for why you’re waking up in his bed.

“Excuse me,” you call sheepishly.

He jumps when he hears you speak – almost dropping the knife in his hands.

You continue, “sorry… what am I doing here?”

He opens his mouth a few times but it takes him a while to speak, “I- erm- Inanna – my wolf – she found you in the woods. I- I don’t know what had happened to you but you were exhausted so I brought you back here and you fell asleep.”

Frowning, you get out of bed. That doesn’t make any sense.

You step closer, “no, I remember I was following Inanna into the woods. She came to find me for some reason…”

You trail off as you try desperately to recall what happened. It hurts to dig into your memories, but you don’t give up – rubbing your temples to relieve some of the pain.

“What happened?” You ask sternly.

He takes a moment to respond, “I told you what happened.”

Concern begins to gnaw at you. There’s a weird block on your memories that even your magic can’t reach.

“What really happened?” You repeat.

Expressionless, he stands up and places his whittling on the table.

“Yes, you followed Inanna into the woods. I was injured and she brought you to me. You healed my wounds and it must have taken it out of you because you passed out.”

“Why can’t I remember?”

“I don’t know.”

You can’t understand this guy’s sheer reluctance to tell you the truth about anything.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened.”

You meet his eyes. He tries to read you – hoping to find a way out of this - but your gaze is determined and unfaltering.

“It’s a curse,” he finally explains. “You can never remember me.”

“A curse? Why would anyone do that?”

He turns away from you – feigning looking out the window.

“Do we really have to do this? I would really appreciate it if you just left.”

You step towards him.

“Please.”

He speaks sadly, “my name’s Muriel.”

“Muriel,” you say out loud; it feels oddly familiar on your tongue.

“I used to be Lucio’s gladiator. And you used to be one of his servants.”

You were Lucio’s servant? That would explain your missing memories.

Sharp fragments spark in your mind. Carrying a jug of water down the palace corridors. Shopping for Lucio’s favourite foods at the market. Stumbling upon a gladiator quivering beneath the stairs of the coliseum.

It was all too much. Your head throbs and you feel your weight give out from under you. You manage to catch yourself on the table. Muriel spins round at the noise - arms latching onto you as he guides you to sit down in a chair.

“I shouldn’t have told you, I’m sorry.”

The memories don’t stop. You came to comfort the gladiator, you tended to a large wound on his rib cage, much like you did yesterday. He was even more frightened of you then. But days passed of you making visits and he began to trust you. Nothing happened between you but the connection was ever present - neither of you wanting to admit it in fear of misreading the other. Lucio however had no doubt and no fear once he’d heard the rumours. He caught you with your hand on Muriel’s thigh and fired you instantly. He was scared you would turn his prized gladiator soft, he was scared you’d make him realise he was worth more than a life of bloodshed. To emphasise Muriel’s entrapment, Lucio had the curse placed on him.

Pain courses through you. It’s not a physical pain. A flurry of emotions are stabbing at your skin. You can’t believe Lucio could do that. You can’t believe Muriel has been carrying this with him for so long while you started a new life free of any memories.

Tears well in your eyes. You place your hand on his chest where the scar resides from the first time you tended to him.

“Muriel,” you repeat his name - knowing why the sound fits so well in your mouth.

Looking into his creased eyes, it all makes sense now, why he was so reluctant to let you help him, he must have been going through all kinds of pain.

So much time has elapsed. His scars have faded and his long hair has been shorn off. You reach forwards and card your fingers through it.

“I like the hair,” you try to lighten the mood.

The pain doesn’t disappear from his eyes. He pulls away. Your feather-light touches feel so good but

“It would be easier if you just left.”

You hesitate, “I don’t want to forget you.”

“You will. If not now, it will eventually. You can’t fight it forever.”

“There has to be a way. Surely Asra will be able to lift the curse… And if he can’t, you just have to remind me every single day.”

You rise and reach out for his hand. He lets you touch him but he refuses to meet your gaze.

“We have to try. Muriel, I don’t want to lose you again.”

It’s been so long since you’ve been together and so many feelings flood over you when you hold his hand.

You continue, “please. We can’t just let Lucio win. He can’t keep us apart.”

Finally, his eyes meet yours. They’re full of doubt but you can tell he wants to believe. You place your hand on his cheek - his eyes close but his eyebrows remain furrowed. Even if he thinks it's a bad idea, being able to feel you again is heavenly.

He asks, “you really think we can fight this?”

A smile lights up your face.

“We can get through anything.”

Muriel sighs and seems to relax into your touch.

Eventually, you withdraw your hand. You don’t want to push him too much, this is probably even more overwhelming for him than it is for you. It’s difficult when all you want to do is wrap your arms around him, bury your face into his neck and breathe in his earthy scent. But you control yourself.

You step away from him to sit down by the fire and pat the space next to you.

“Come on, I’m sure we both have a lot to catch up on.”

Conversation is slow at first but it begins to build. You tell him how about how Asra had taken you in as his apprentice. You described your life at the shop and the friends you’d made. He tells you about how he decided to run away once he met Inanna and how he’s lived out his life alone in his hut.

The sun sinks below the horizon and the sky begins to turn a dark shade of blue.

“I don’t want to go.”

Muriel stares at the wall – deep in thought.

“Then stay. For tonight. We’ll figure out a plan in the morning,” he replies – voice strained.

“Thank you.”

He refuses to let you sleep anywhere but his bed while he takes the floor. Not wanting to argue all night, you graciously accept.

The furs are extremely comfortable as you slide into them and Muriel adds a few extra logs onto the fire. In the silence, it’s difficult to stop thinking. You can’t help but buzz with excitement and disbelief to be able to see Muriel again. Yet you can’t help but dread falling asleep, not wanting to forget and feeling afraid that you always will.

You���re not sure when or how but somehow, after a while, you manage to drift off into a light sleep.

You’re woken by a growl. You sit up and your sleep addled brain tries to make sense of things. The growl didn’t come from the wolf but a man who’s tossing on the floor in a fitful sleep.

You’ve forgotten the events of yesterday but, for some reason, that’s not important to you. What’s important is the man who seems to be having an awful nightmare. You go to his side.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. You’re just having a nightmare.” You soothe – stroking his hair.

He thrashes against your touch before slowly relaxing into it. Eventually, he opens his eyes. He looks just as confused as you did waking up. He stares at you for a long while and you don’t quite know what to say or even what to think.

He asks, “you remember me?”

You blink a few times. You were meant to remember him?

“No, sorry.”

He sits up and pulls away. He turns so you can’t see his face but you were able to catch a glimpse of the pain.

“I’m sorry, should I know you?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Who are you?”

His body visibly sags.

“My name’s Muriel.”

That name. That voice. It’s enough to send a shockwave of recognition through your body.

You tug on his arm to get him to face you. He goes to shrug you off but he catches sight of the tears welling in your eyes. You plunge forward and wrap your arms around him.

You remember your visits to the coliseum. You remember the time your hands accidentally brushed. You remember doubting it was actually an accident. You remember the first time he pulled you tight against himself. You remember realising how much you hated your life working for Lucio and how content you felt in Muriel’s arms. You remember how often you used to smile.

Tears flow freely from your eyes. He shifts to wrap his arms around you and pulls you against his chest. It feels exactly the same as it did back then if not more intense now. He’s so warm and so broad and you never want him to let go.

Without thinking, you shift and speak Muriel’s name – deep and conflicted – against his lips. It’s several seconds into kissing him that you realise what you’ve done.

You pull away quickly, “I’m sorry, was that too much? Was that okay?”

“I- erm- yes.”

“Do you… want me to continue?”

He thinks about it before nodding.

Now hyper aware of yourself, you awkwardly move your face closer to his once again. It gets easier once you close your eyes and your lips find his. It’s slow and gentle at first and your hands gradually move to his arms. You can feel him relax and his large hands snake to your back.

You push yourself harder against him, your kissing growing feverish. Your hands explore every inch of him – wanting to commit it to memory.

He pulls away from you to catch his breath and asks, “was that- was that okay?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“Yes, Muriel, that was more than okay,” you speak “I’d like to do more. If you would like that too?”

“More?” It takes him a while to realise what you mean “Oh. Well, I would like that if you would like that.”

This man is too sweet, too perfect for you to ever forget again.

You reply – trying not to giggle at how adorable he is, “yes, I would definitely like that.”

Before he can reply, you’re back on his lips, exploring how your mouths fit together and revelling in the taste of him. His hands are quick to return to your back. His movements are more sure of themselves this time - confident in where they want to travel. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck for leverage to kiss you harder.

You move away to pull your shirt off over your head. Once the fabric is discarded to the floor, you notice how Muriel is struggling to make eye contact.

“It’s okay. You can look.”

Slowly, his eyes roam over your body. You reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra and let it drop down next to your shirt.

“You can touch too, if you want.”

He tenses but he nods.

You guide his hand towards your breast. He’s tentative at first and you make a soft moan to let him know it’s okay. He begins to massage your breast and you return to kissing him. As he gets lost in the act, he brings his other hand up to touch you.

You reach between yourselves to undo his trousers. He hesitates before lifting his hips for you to slide them off him. When you settle back down, you can feel Muriel’s hard length against your thigh. It’s bigger than you’d expected. It makes a lot of sense it would be that size but you’re still surprised, you guess you’d never thought about it before.

You lift off him for a moment to discard your own trousers to the floor. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands when you go back to kissing -  overwhelmed by your bare skin.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” you say “We can stop if you’re uncomfortable.”

Muriel meets your gaze and you can see his eyes are beginning to murk with lust. He shakes his head.

“No, I like it. I just- it’s a lot. But I don’t want it to stop.”

“Tell me if you change your mind at any point, okay?”

“Yeah.”

It looks like he wants to say more so you remain still and silent until he speaks.

“I- erm. I’m glad you found me. I’m glad you’re back. I didn’t realise… I had- I could feel so many things. It’s so stupid- I should have found you…”

You place your hand on his cheek.

“It’s okay. It’s really okay… And I feel lots of things too.”

You smile reassuringly and he forces a small smile back. Gently, you dive your head back towards his – wanting to show him just how much you feel with a slow tender kiss. His arms tentatively snake around your waist and he pulls you closer so you’re flush against him. Absentmindedly, your hands trail to grasp behind his neck and play with the ends of his hair. The warmth of his body washes over you and you moan into the kiss.

The empty longing you’d felt while apprenticing for Asra makes sense now. You’ve never felt more at home than you do now.

You smile into the kiss before climbing off Muriel. Grabbing hold of his wrist, you drag him up with you. Your smile evolves into a smirk as you pull him towards the bed.

Muriel doesn’t know what to do with himself now he can clearly see your naked form. You sit on the bed and release Muriel’s wrist, leaving him standing there to gawk.

“You’re- you look very… nice.”

You giggle, “thank you, Muriel. You look very nice too.”

Your eyes roll languidly down his form. His body hasn’t changed at all since he was a gladiator. Your eyes make it to his lower half and his hands twitch – wanting to hide himself - but he remains still and lets you watch.

You bite your lip and give his wrist a final tug. He gets the message and you swivel onto the bed as he climbs on top of you. The mattress compresses with his weight.

He’s completely still on top of you. You gently pull on his shoulder for him to go back to kissing you, something you know he’s comfortable with. But his lips are tense against yours, unwilling to open up to your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

He darts away and sits on the edge of the bed. You sit up and keep your distance, scared that you’re taking things too quickly.

“It’s just, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Realisation slowly dawns on you.

“Muriel… Have you ever done this before?”

He shakes his head.

From being an orphan to a gladiator to a recluse, you guess he would never have had the opportunity to form relationships. Other than with you.

“Would you like me to guide you?”

He replies quietly, “yes please.”

“Then give me your hand.”

Awkwardly, he shifts so he’s facing you again and he holds out his hand. You pull it over towards your lower half and rest his hand on your underwear. He intuitively begins to knead you through your pants. You arch up into his hand, wanting more pressure.

“That’s good,” you encourage “Do you want to try with pants off?”

He nods and carefully pulls your pants down your legs. You spread your legs wider to make it easier for him as he comes between them. He leans in close and admires you - fascinated by your anatomy. He slides a hand along the soft skin of your thigh – tracing lazy shapes before running a large finger down your folds.

“This spot up here’s good,” you explain - pointing towards your clit.

He nods and grazes his thumb over your mound. His calloused digit presses lightly against you. You close your eyes to let the sensation wash over you as you lean back on your elbows.

Without eyes watching him, he grows a little more confident and brings his other hand to explore between your folds as his other thumb continues on your clit. His circles begin to grow harder, causing you to moan. After a while, his index finger finds your entrance.

“Can I?” He asks.

You open your eyes. He stares at you with so much love and concern. Dread pools in your heart to think of how easily it would have been to have forgotten him forever, to never have crossed paths like you did. No. A timeline like that doesn’t exist. No matter what, you know you always would have found each other.

“Please.”

He slides a thick finger inside of you. You take a sharp breath. You weren’t expecting to feel that much pleasure from one finger. He thrusts his finger into you at a slow and careful speed. His circles on your clit have kept a painfully perfect rhythm - never changing speed. For someone who’s not done this before, he’s absolutely incredible.

He slides a second finger in. Two of his wide fingers are enough to make you feel a stretch and you wonder how you’re going to accommodate his length later.

He gives an experimental curl of his fingers. You hadn’t expected him to find that sweet spot inside of you and your hips twitch as you cry out.

He freezes, “was that not okay?”

“It’s really good, Muriel. You’re really good.”

“Oh… Okay.”

He starts up again – starting even slower than before until he gradually begins to increase the speed. Your hips buck into his fingers, wanting more of him. He gets the message and buries his fingers knuckle deep into you on the next thrust. Your mind is swimming with pleasure and you cannot understand how someone can possibly be this good.

He keeps a teasingly slow pace on your clit as his fingers continue to dive deep into you. Occasionally, he brushes your g-spot and your hands fist into the bed sheets every time. A coil begins to wind within you and your legs start to tense.

“Muriel, stop, I-I’m gonna cum.”

He pulls his fingers out, leaving you tingling, oversensitive and suddenly extremely empty. Right now, you would be more than willing to get on your knees and beg for him to finish the job.

“Are you ready?” You ask him breathlessly.

He sits back, “I- erm, yes- but I’m scared to… I’m scared I’m going to hurt you.”

A warm smile spreads across your face. You lean your hand against his cheek.

“You won’t hurt me.”

“You’re so… small,” He looks at you like you’re a piece of fine China. “Are you sure?”

“Just go slow, okay?”

He nods - not completely convinced but willing to give it a go. You lie back on the bed and watch him pull his underwear down. Welp. His length was even bigger than you’d imagined from when you’d felt it against you.

He climbs back on top of you and positions himself at your entrance. He slides in slowly. His girth is already stretching you wide and he’s only entered you half way. He stops to allow you time to adjust.

His eyes are closed. It doesn’t seem to be because he’s nervous. He looks like he’s using all his willpower to hold himself back.

He tentatively begins to thrust into you, keeping it slow and shallow.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, you can do more.”

He’s a little bit reluctant but he thrusts deeper into you. Any pain you’d felt has subsided and, already, the pleasure is washing over you in waves. It feels so intense being with him, feeling his heat radiate from above you and his arms encasing you. You grab onto one of his wrists by the side of your head – needing the physical contact to ride out the intensity of your pleasure.

You feel your orgasm building, you must have carried over the pleasure from earlier. Him remaining at his slow pace is keeping you from tipping over the edge but you’re painfully close. But you want to hold on for as long as possible. You want to savour every moment of this as pleasure hits you again and again with each teasing thrust.

He begins to lose himself a little and his thrusts speed up. It’s so overwhelming and you let out groan after groan.

He lowers himself onto his elbows as he thrusts deeper into you. You cry out loudly. You’ve never felt so full before.

“Ah fuck, Muriel.”

His head is buried in your neck, letting out hot and heavy grunts against your sensitive skin. It’s so difficult to stave off your orgasm but you’re not ready for it to end.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him tight, holding on for dear life. His thrusts only increase in desperation - slamming into you and filling the room with the sound of skin on skin.

You moan his name and a string of various obscenities. You wrap your shaking legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you so he fills you to the hilt.

It’s absolutely euphoric. Years of being spent away from Muriel and now you were finally together again, as it should have been, as it will always be.

His thrusts grow maddened and he growls your name into your ear. It sends you over the edge. You cry out as searing white fills your vision. Your whole body twitches as your legs clamp around him.

Unrelenting, he pounds into you while you ride out your orgasm and he chases his. He grunts loudly as you feel his seed spill into you. There are a few more sloppy thrusts and then his motions come to a stop.

“W-was that okay? Are you okay?”

“Yes, Muriel, that was the most incredible experience of my whole life.”

“Me too.”

There’s a comfortable silence as he looks at you with so much love brimming in his eyes and you can only assume you look the same.

In one swift movement, he turns you both around so he’s lying on the bed and you’re against his chest. His arms fold around you and you practically melt into him.

You start to feel sleepy and you panic when you realise you’ll forget him in the morning. You pull away from him.

“I’m going to fall asleep.”

He stares at you – not quite understanding.

You explain, “I don’t want to forget you again.”

Muriel thinks it over for a moment and then tugs you back down on top of him.

“Well I don’t want to stop holding you. You can’t stay awake forever. We’ll go to Asra in the morning. We’ll find a way,” he says – echoing your earlier conviction.

You try to relax, which isn’t particularly difficult considering he’s a giant sized teddy bear.

“Okay,” you reply.

You press your head against his chest and listen to the steady drum of his heart. It’s a beat you’re determined to remember.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you promise.

[juliandevwhoreak]

Modern Arcana AU HCs Part 5: Julian Edition

More than three years ago, Vesuvia found itself in the iron grip of a highly contagious and lethal plague. The Oculorubrumvirus, more commonly known as The Red Eye Virus, was thought to coincide with the sudden introduction of an invasive species of red-colored beetle not native to Vesuvia: Liliocerus Lilii, aka the Lily Leaf Beetle.

Entomologists traced this exotic species of beetle to the forests of the far South, found to be endemic to the darkest and most lush areas near caves, where lilies are prone to grow in dense clusters.

Vesuvia’s scientific community could not, however, identify the exact link between the beetles and the new virus, which was beginning to be reported with alarming frequency first on the outskirts of the city, then within the heart of the city itself.

Full-scale panic reached a crescendo when the Prime Minister, himself, was reported as being among the infected.

Enter Dr. Julian Devorak, aspiring virologist and professional vagabond.

It has not escaped my notice that a few of you have drawn comparisons between Dr. Disaster and Crowley the Demon, and I am here for it. He rocks leather blazers, tight jeans, messy hair, and sunglasses: sunglasses during the day, sunglasses at night, sunglasses indoors, outdoors, there will be sunglasses and you’ll just have to deal with it.

Are you a Barista? Can you keep a straight face when a 6′4″ zombie-skeleton-man in scrubs stained with blood and/or vomit shambles up to your counter at the stroke of 5 AM requesting, in what barely counts as English, 6 extra shots of espresso in his lightly-sweetened Venti nitro-brew? Will you smile politely as he frat-boy chugs his drink order right there, slams his glass on the counter and asks for another in a series of grunts and sputtering? Do you gingerly hand him napkins to wipe the stray droplets from his chin and neck? He loves you, darling. He will sink to his knees in supplication and kiss your hands and make sure he tips you generously. You’re an angel, sent to his earth bearing blessings and abundance. You are the center of his universe, you miracle. You absolute treasure.

Has driven the same old, lovingly maintained motorbike for the last 15 years. Her name is Lola, and while she’s not the newest, shiniest model, she gets a good 40 miles to the gallon, she’s sleek, she’s midnight black, and she’s reliable. He never rides with a helmet, but if you were to be his passenger, he would attach her sidecar, make you wear a helmet with the visor down, thank you, and an armored biking jacket, all of which he’d strap you up in while lecturing you about road rash, concussions, and the dangers of gravity.

His secret superpower is attracting a cabal of old, crusty battleax nurses to take care of him at every facility he’s ever provided care at. There’s something about a charming, wan skeleton-man that compels old women to rocket into Nanny-mode. “Christ, Julian, I’ve got this ultrasound, you go lay down on that gurney and get some shut-eye.”

“DOCTOR DEVORAK, drop those charts and come have some tea, you look half-past-dead and gettin’ stiffer, come on.”

Mostly subsists off of what he can find in hospital vending machines and has a large leather sack full of coins just for this purpose.

He’s a certified workaholic and will run on fumes until his body throws a tantrum and gives up, so he ends up passing out in odd places: hunched over kitchen counters, half dressed in a drooling pile on his living room floor, upside down on his couch, in the trunk of his neighbor’s car, under a cart of urine samples at the hospital, curled around a potted plant in the front lobby, and once hanging halfway out of Mazelinka’s window. The worst part is that Maz is on the third floor and his bottom half was hanging out of the window.

These scrubs, and you can fucking fight me about it.

When he’s not killing himself at the hospital, he can be found relaxing at the pub and if you buy him a salty bitters or five, he’ll tell you a few harrowing tales about his time apprenticing as a medic on fishing vessels, especially that one time a tuna clipper he was providing services on was hijacked by Molovian pirates and he had naught but a few inches of rope and a good, solid pipe to defend himself with. The pub regulars have heard it several times, but they always laugh. It’s a favorite.

Has a shitpost meme account on Instagram, and another Instagram where he posts pictures of pranks he’s pulled on other doctors at the hospital.

Has probably the most eclectic taste in music out of the main 6 and bought a Spotify premium account so he could make meticulously curated playlists for every situation. Definitely speeds down the highway on Lola blasting The Black Keys through his airpods.

If things get spicy 🍋 between himself and another person, it’s not wise to roleplay a doctor/patient scenario. He will take it entirely too seriously, regardless of what role he’s in, and the mood will be ruined until other measures are employed.

Ex: “Oh-ho-ho-okay, MC, I’m going to gently hold you here, and you cough for me, ha ha ;)”

MC: *exaggerated sexy cough* ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

“Oh- oh God, I think you have a testicular hernia, ho-holy shit, ah, have you gotten this checked out before, fuckin’ yikes, we need x-rays yesterday-”

Part 4: Muriel Edition can be found here.

Part 3: Nadia Edition can be found here.

Part 2: Lucio Edition can be found here.

Part 1: Asra Edition can be found here.

[snikker-doooo]

It’s been a while since I’ve drawn Apprentice Snikker, so I figured it would be about time to do it again/give her an introduction for my 5 or so new followers. Actually, I don’t think I ever actually introduced her and if I did it would have been last year before she was better fleshed out

Anyway, this is Snikker my apprentice for the Arcana. I have many Snikker’s since thats what I call all my video game MC’s - they get a new name once I figure out their ending. This Snikker ends up being called Canan but thats much later. 

Basic facts

Snikker, 27, 1st September,  INFP, Chaotic Good Flower is Thistles Food is Rice Pudding Drink is Fruit Tea

Her familiar is a Cashmere goat called Juniper. 

Main LI is Muriel - but I use her for all routes except Lucio. 

If you want more you’ll have to...

Snikker Cornavore is the second born twin to a couple of goat herding cultists who live around the Void Lakes. She was born with the ability to Dream Walk - which caused her to project her conscious into Muriel’s while he was living on the streets. She would visit him and teach him about her favorite goats. 

 Her twin was elected to become a priestess, leaving her to be the only one at home when her father finally lost it and killed her mother. Afterwards, being too unhinged to be part of their community - she was sent to the City to live with her aunt Faylore. Faylore had very dark, very weird magic. She would collect the bones of creatures and use them to make Poppets - dolls that came to life. Several of these creations are bought and sold into the Colosseum.

She meets Asra when he comes to her Aunts shop in hopes of apprenticing under her (Actually, he was there to figure out how to stop the creation of the poppets before they killed Muriel). Asra would become fixated on her strange ability to dream walk, thinking it might eventually help him find his parents. 

During this period Snikker was a mess. She would only sleep when collapsing from Exhaustion - Only eating when someone held her down and forced her to eat, and only leaving the house wrapped in layers of enchanted fabrics so she could rob from graves. 

Obviously when the plague hit Snikker wanted to stay behind - not so much to help but more so to study under Valdemar. She never got that close though, after meeting Julian and working with him a month, she gets sick and the rest is history. 

Fast forward a bit. 

Once Asra manages to bring her back he notices that shes different. She actively seeks food to eat, she sleeps often and deep and sometimes without warning, and leaves the house still wrapped up tight because she claims to never be warm enough.  

Asra eventually puts it down to the lack of trauma in her new life - without that all weighting her down she became a normal (still very eccentric) person. She would nurse sick animals back to health, she would read with the neighborhood children, and she would sew and work charms into her embroidery. Asra decided she needed a clean slate and that while she was working on that he would help look after her.

She became a romantic overnight for some bear she kept encountering while she was dream walking and decides that its her goal to find him.

---

Realistically - I use Snikker to kind of work through my personal traumas.When I first started drawing her she was skinny and pretty neuro typical more what I wanted to be at that time. Now, I’m trying to be more comfortable with my trauma and my multiple chronic and psychiatric illnesses. So shes a bit more cuddly and has narcolepsy, joint issues, PTSD, OCD, Anxiety and Dyslexia. 

I’m not gonna give her my other chronics though - I want her to be able to have all t he babies I can’t