#xisum.a

[target--practice]

Thought about TCD and I'm thinking about Scar back with the hermits...finding love and security and the freedom to be himself. To explore. To experiment.

He finds a home with every hermit, although it takes longer with some than others. Cub is his first, then Grian, and it's a trickle from there. But he finds a special sort of home with Xisuma. The admin, the protector, the man who let him stay in his world, his hermitcraft. Scar often stays with his closest, on nights where the darkness is too dark, the whisper in the breeze closer to a gurgle and a groan. Some days he finds himself closer to Xisuma's place than the others, and it's second nature by now to slip his way into Xisuma's base. To make himself home in the other's den, to cozy up with his mug from Xisuma's cabinet, a nice cup of warm milk

When Xisuma gets home it's late at night, and Scar's half asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a well worn quilt gifted by the hermits one holiday. Xisuma smiles, armour shed at the door, and he carefully cleans up around the other. Gentle murmurs as he takes the mug to wash, brushes a hand through Scar's hair, coaxes him up to join him in bed. The two strip further, just to their underwear before Xisuma's passing a well worn shirt to Scar, long sleeves fraying and stitches popped. And Scar easily pulls it over his head, still loose on his slight frame. He makes himself comfortable tucked against Xisuma's chest as they lay together, a lamp still on to scare away any monsters as Xisuma softly tells Scar about his day. When Scar's half asleep and warm, he shifts his hips idly, cuddling closer with no real intention to touch the hardness between his own legs. But Xisuma, ever kind, ever thoughtful, slips a hand to the small of Scar's back, gently urges him to grind against him if he wants. He still talks about his day, even as Scar's bitten off whimpers and moans fill the air between them, dancing around Xisuma's words and soft rumbles of fondness. When Xisuma's voice wavers and they cum together, it's easy for Scar to sink into the safety of sleep. He'll wake in the morning to nude but clean thighs, Xisuma kind enough to give him an extra blanket but still let their ankles tangle together. And Scar will show his thanks with the sunrise, leaving soft kisses up his admin's chest, gentle purrs stirring him to start the day together

[crystal-consort]

Scar has a thing for hands

There's something about the difference between them. How some hands are long and slender, how others are rough and cracked. He's always been obsessed with Mumbo's hands. His fingers are long and spindly, knuckles brushing against Scar when they're close. His nails are stained red from his constant experimenting with redstone. Redstone has a fizz to it when it gets wet. Scar wants to feel that fizz against his tongue as he gags on Mumbo's fingers. Wants to feel the way those long digits would split him open, would take him in hand and wrap around him. Mumbo's hands are cold, too. The chilling contrast would be addicting, he thinks. They'd be so cold, the chill pressed deep in his core as heat drips down his spine. They'd be so cold, sharp pressure in the sides of his neck as Mumbo cuts off the bloodflow to his brain, leaving his head swimming, his thoughts light and staticky.

He gets himself off to the idea. So many times. His own hands aren't like Mumbo's, rough from work and carefully manicured. The other people he's been with don't have hands like Mumbo too, but some of them are good. Doc comes to mind, furred with rough pads. Or Xisuma. Gloved in fine leather, a level of detachment that's addicting. Ungloved they're a whole other experience, soft and firm, but gentle. Unmarred from constantly being protected.

Maybe he'll go to Xisuma again, let X pull him apart and put him back together again for a nice distraction. But he knows he'll inevitability think back on Mumbo's hands. All it'll take is a passing glance, a request for help, and he'll fall back into his little obsession, mind overtaken by those damn hands

[target--practice]

Thought about ender dragon Xisuma and smth smth the heart of the server is the admin. And the admin's heat breathe new life (updates) and keeps things running smoothly (bugs and glitches)

The hermits occasionally lose track of Xisuma and that's how they know a new update is coming. Someone inevitably tracks him down and finds him horned up and needy, cunt puffy and leaking around his fingers or whatever toy he's stuffed himself with. It takes the hermits fucking him and helping him lay his egg for the server to continue thriving, and the hermits most definitely make an event of it. They all love their admin, and there's nothing better than calling an emergency meeting so they can pass X around and fill him with cum

[target--practice]

Fixated on the thought of pathetic Xisuma. Imagine him after a long day trying to keep up with the hermits and maintain the server. He's exhausted and horny and feels too guilty asking any of the hermits to warm his bed (or warm theirs) so he ends up half undressed and propped up in his bed. The room is cold and dark, and his armour is still half unbuckled and strewn about, but he just has to get a hand between his legs. He touches himself slowly, a bitten off whimper cutting through stale air, palming himself and letting his eyes flutter. He imagines it being someone else, anyone else, crowded over him and touching him. He imagines lips and teeth against his neck, slick fingers pumping into his hole, and he mourns the fact that he didn't even think to grab any lube for himself. He hasnt even taken off his pants yet, and he doesn't think he could last long enough to get that far into it. So instead he pumps his cock, desperate and using his own slick to lube himself. He brings his other hand to his neck, giving himself a squeeze and letting his eyes roll back, his own moan bitten off. When he feels heat curling in his gut he bucks his hips into his hand, and he doesn't have it in him to be shameful as he cums all over himself and his pants. He's no doubt ruined his underarmour, another pair doomed to be burned. But he can't bring himself to care, not when his head feels pleasantly fuzzy and pleasure laps at him.

[target--practice]

Evil X how I need you to get fucked until you're sobbing. It would be healing for you. Hands and knees on a bed, Xisuma curled over him, fucking him deep and slow. One arm hugging Evil X so he can pull him back with every thrust, Xisuma's other hand wrapped around Evil X's cock. He murmurs praise and gentle words against Evil X's back, kisses along his spine, and when Evil X shudders and sobs he just cooes and soothes him. Precum slicks his hand, sweat collected between them, but Xisuma's only encouraged to keep fucking him when Evil X muffles himself in a pillow. He grinds his hips to hear Evil X stutter and sob, watch him press his cheek into the pillow instead as he moans ragged into the air. And when Evil X cums, Xisuma's nowhere near to follow, but that's not a problem either when Evil X arches his back into him, desperate for the burn of overstimulation and feeling of cum pumped deep into him

[target--practice]

Im thinking about Xisuma getting fucked out. Fingers in his mouth, hand in long hair, I just gotta have that guy made into a mess someone Has to take care of their admin yk? For his health and wellbeing

[target--practice]

Thought about dragon xisuma and i got so hard. Who's pulling his horns and fucking his mouth? Who's holding up his tail to get a good look at his holes?? Who's playing with his nipples???

[target--practice]

Xisuma should get rewarded after dealing with the hermits and their game breaking habits. He fixes a bug and gets to spend the night being pampered and fucked to sleep, and he wakes up pleasantly sore and wrapped up in limbs and blankets. Maybe this encourges some of the hermits to break things more, but X really can't be too mad when they help him fix it, eyes on him the whole time as they just can't wait to scramble and get his helmet off to pull him in for a heated kiss