marioandluigigi - Tumblr blog

marioandluigigi · 8 days ago

Text

⤷ I've given all I can, it's not enough—

“But if you're gonna dine with them c a n n i b a l s. Sooner or later, darling, you're gonna get eaten . . .”

(warnings) ➥ mentions of cannibalism, heavy themes, guilt, angst, using substances to cope— mentions of heavy drinking and drug usage. Smut—> semi public sex, slight blood play (I think?). Wc: 2.6.k.

Now playing ⟢ karma police by Radiohead.

“For a minute there. I lost myself, I lost myself. Phew, for a minute there I lost myself, I lost myself.”

⤷ or rather, you and Nat attempt to cope with life outside of the wilderness. Problem? Envisioning life after rescue is easier than actually living it.

What’s worse than the feel of human flesh stuck between your teeth?

Nothing, would be the more common answer. Wrong but common. The right answer would be— living with it.

The problem is you never thought you’d have to live with it. In your head you’d die like them, like Jackie, like Javi, like Mari. Golden heart necklace around your neck, queen card clutched between your trembling fingers while Shauna’s knife slit your throat and your blood pooled in the shiny snow beneath your feet.

A feast for your remaining teammates. A sacrifice to the gods of the sky and the dirt. A piece of meat to be consumed and discarded.

Again— that’s what you thought. Before your girlfriend returned to camp, breathless and panting screaming she made contact.

You’re going home.

You don’t remember the day of rescue, only the shiny Christmas decorations that adorned the airport when you and the other survivors were dragged through the clean floors and the sea of cameras.

Because that’s the problem isn’t it? The cleanliness. No dirt to hide the blood on your hands, no deer blood to mask the human one on your lips, no wilderness to blame for your own wrongdoings, just clean pristine floors, smiling faces and microphones shoved in your face.

The hospital was worse. The smell of antiseptic filled your nostrils while the one from the cheap soap they gave you clung to your skin. You don’t smell the same, neither does she— you never thought the lack of grime would make you spiral this much but it does. The change, the bright lights, the endless days filled with tests confuse you, mess with your body who is used to survival— to dirt, cold and fear.

The door opens. Your doctor. Doctor Barnes or… Beeler you don’t remember, you don’t care. Because it’s always the same routine— she asks how you’re feeling and why you aren’t eating your meat.

Both pointless questions really— you feel awful and out of place and you aren’t eating your meat because it reminds you of Mari. If you close your eyes long enough you can still hear her laugh, her awful puns and blunt comments. Even if her bones are currently covered in snow and the rest of her flesh inhabits within you and the rest of your surviving teammates.

“Can you remember anything else?” The doctor asks in her sickeningly sweet, clinical voice, pulling you momentarily out of your thoughts.

Again, another question you won’t answer or rather can’t or else— you’ll be punished. Not by the wilderness, not by “It”, not by your own hunger and desperation, no. By your teammates, your friends to whom you’d sworn secrecy to.

So you stay silent.

Sometimes you wish you hadn’t. You wish you could open your mouth and let everyone’s secrets spill out of your tainted lips. To be arrested, beaten bloody and not get up so you wouldn’t have to stare at Mrs. Taylor or Mrs. Martinez in the face, one more time, to live with knowing what they don’t— That their beloved children weren’t taken out by the harsh climate or the hunger in their stomachs but rather by a group of teenagers with delusions of grandeur.

The problem?

Nat— the only person you’ve ever loved. The only one who still means anything to you. She too would be punished. And you figure, you wouldn’t be able to see her suffer anymore than she already has. So you keep your mouth shut and push the meat to the side of your plate. One more time.

March 14, 1998— three months since rescue. Two weeks since the last time you saw Nat.

Soft music plays in the background of the dimlit bar you’re currently sitting at. Your glass is empty, again— and the bartender refuses to fill it. Asshole.

You grab a wad of crumpled up bills and throw them on the counter. Enough to cover your drinking, not enough, however for a tip.

You’re on your way out when your body collides with someone else’s.

Short brown hair with bleach blonde tips still visible, ragged clothing, dilated pupils and a cigarette dangling from her chapped lips.

Nat.

You could cry at the sight of her.

“Nat…” you breathe out. Like you’re seeing the ghost of an old lover. In a way you are.

She stares at you for a moment, mouth half opened searching for an answer but none coming out.

“Hey.” She chokes out.

And her eyes lock with yours. What was previously vibrant green is almost pitch black with the way her pupils are wide. But it’s not just the lack of colour in her irises that’s changed or the fact that she’s clearly using, again. No, this isn’t the Natalie you used to know, the defiant, firecracker of a girl that wouldn’t give in to anything or anyone. No, this is a ghost of the girl you fell in love with, a stranger who’s wearing her face, lost in their own darkness, in their own guilt.

In a way, so are you. So there you stand, two ghosts looking at each other forever seeing more than the shells they’ve become, forever interlinked, unable to let go, unable to move on.

So you do what you always do. You kiss her when words fail you. You seek the familiarity of her lips, the weight of her calloused hands on your waist, the smell of tobacco and cheap vanilla perfume that seems to chase her everywhere she goes, like a moth to a flame.

She kisses you too, rougher than you remember, like you're just another thing that she’s using to forget the darkness in her head and the blood on her hands. Because that’s what you are too. A drug, a means to an end. Something to be consumed and tossed aside. After all, wasn’t that what you wanted? Wasn’t that your fate?

“Let’s get out of here.” She whispers in your ear before burying her face in your neck. “Ok?” She asks.

You nod and hold onto her for balance. The drinks you had finally starting to take effect. You feel your mind go hazy, your body becoming heavy, your eyelids closing and all the dark thoughts and nightmares that plague your mind being pushed to the side and giving way to a pleasant, calm sensation that you’re only ever able to feel when you’ve drunk more than you probably should.

“Don’t go passing out on me now.” Nat comments.

But she doesn’t reprimand you. She doesn’t tell you to stop. Because that’s the arrangement the two of you have, you don’t comment on her drug abuse and she doesn’t scold you for your drinking.

Two addicts enabling each other.

Two lovers tethered by memories.

Memories of better times, of football games, shared joints under the bleachers, friendly sleepovers and not so friendly kisses when nobody was looking. But also, traumatic ones of hunger, of consumption of human flesh, of death staring you in the eye and cold so harsh that it’s forever seared into your bones.

The walk to her car is a short one, after all she was going to the bar before she bumped into you, probably because booze is cheaper than blow, definitely because her dealer has been blowing her off. One thing is for certain, she wasn’t looking for you.

She opens the door to the backseat and gestures for you to climb in. A familiar dance between the two of you. Find one another, fuck in her car because it’s easier than speaking to each other and leaving to repeat it all over again in the next following days.

Too broken to stay together, too attached to leave.

Natalie climbs in after you, closing the door of her beat up car and spreading her legs in an inviting manner for you to climb into her lap.

The worst part? You do as you're told.

You climb into her lap and waste no time circling her neck with your arms and locking lips with her. Rough. Needy. As if the feel of her lips will replace the less than savoury things you've had in your mouth in the name of survival.

But you don’t stop, you don’t come up for air, you keep kissing her like it’s your sole purpose on this earth. You open your mouth, inviting her tongue to slide in, when it does you moan and suck on it harshly as if trying to swallow her whole.

The kiss lasts for another couple of seconds before she’s biting your lip with the intention of drawing blood.

She gives you a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes before she’s kissing you again, messily. With the sole purpose of spreading your blood around both of your mouths.

You follow suit and do the same to her. Bite her harshly until she’s groaning in pain and her chapped lips are bleeding for you. A kink the both of you have developed since you’ve been back. Since the only blood you’re able to taste now is each others, like the sick feeling of consuming what is human has never quite left both of your systems. And it won’t. It never will.

You reach behind yourself and palm the area beneath the driver's seat, looking for something to wet your lips with. But you don't feel the cool metallic sensation of a can grazing your fingers but rather the plastic of a ziplock bag.

You grasp it and bring it over to the empty space between you and Nat. Staring at the white powder that sits inside through your eyelashes.

Nat’s eyes widen just slightly— concern, want? You can’t tell.

“Baby don’t take that.” She pleads. “I’m serious.”

You don’t know if it’s concern for you or fear of wasting the substance.

“Here.” She breathes out before she’s throwing her hand beneath the passenger seat and pulling out a solid gum container.

She opens the cylinder with a click sound, and pulls out a perfectly rolled joint.

Then she places it in between her lips, and fishes out an old lighter out of her pocket, you remember going to the gas station with her and picking that same skull lighter for her.

She lights the joint with ease, taking a long drag before passing it to you.

“Here baby.” She mutters while your fingers graze hers.

You take a hit of the joint while Natalie starts taking off your belt, looking up at you for approval. When you don’t protest she takes it off with ease before tossing it aside.

You keep the joint on your lips while she starts to undress you. The weed hitting you harder when paired with the alcohol already sitting in your system.

“Lift up.” She commands. Ordering you to lift your hips so she can remove your pants.

You do as you’re told and lift your hips while blowing the smoke in the closed window’s direction, letting it graze the side of Nat’s face. She removes your pants with practice ease, throwing them in the same direction she threw your belt leaving you only in your top and underwear. Still sitting atop her lap.

She starts rubbing your clit in tight circles through your panties while her mouth grazes your neck, biting, licking and marking leaving a trail of angry purple-reddish blemishes that go from the area under your ears to your collarbone.

You start to grind on the finger that sits atop your clothed clit seeking more friction, you take a long drag off her joint and tilt her head before blowing the smoke directly into her mouth. She accepts it gladly, inhaling it in slowly, before pressing her lips to yours. The two of you sit there for a long moment, lips and foreheads touching before she blows the smoke in your face. The sensation sending a slight tingle down your spine.

You press your head into the crook of her neck and keep grinding against her hand.

“Don’t be so needy.” She complains, but there’s no real bite in her voice, only playfulness.

She caresses your face, placing a strand of your messy hair behind your ear before moving your underwear to the side and sliding a single finger in.

You moan in delight at the intrusion and press your body further into her lap swallowing her finger with your cunt.

“Shhh.” She coos as she presses her forehead against yours.

It’s during these moments that she reminds you of the Nat you knew in the wilderness the tender, kind and compassionate one that cared more for others than they cared for her. The one who’d hold you through the night and kiss your forehead when she thought you were asleep.

You bounce up and down on her lap, spreading your slick all over her hand and pants while whining into her lips.

Nat complies to your unspoken pleas and adds another finger into your needy pussy letting you use her like toy for your own pleasure while her hand snakes beneath your shirt to play with your covered nipples who slowly start to harden under her ministrations.

The windows of the car start to fog thanks to your ragged breathing and the smoke from the shared joint. Natalie takes your hand and brings it over to her mouth, taking a slow drag from the blunt and kissing your fingers, before bringing one of them into her mouth and sucking on it, gently.

Your body never stops its grinding motion against her hand, you reach for your lips with your free hand and grab some of the blood that’s yet to dry and smear it across her mouth.

She’s a sight, you think to yourself— bloody lips and slick fingers covered in your juices.

She licks her lips, swallowing your blood before she’s licking the outsides of your mouth, hungry for more.

The action only manages to turn you on even more, which in turn makes you speed up your movements atop her lap.

You start to feel that familiar tightening sensation in your core while Nat keeps lapping at your face.

Nat, ever the observant one, notices this and starts circling your clit with her thumb while you bounce harder on her hand— the same hand she used to kill coach Ben. You suddenly remember.

You bury your face further into her neck while your orgasm washes over you. Still grinding softly on her fingers after you came.

After a few moments Nat pulls her fingers out of your hole and presents them to you for you to suck them clean. You know this routine well so you grab her slick covered fingers and bring them to your mouth while making eye contact with her. Her face is pure ecstasy as she lets out a sigh of relief at the feel of your tongue swirling her digits.

When you’re done with the show she brings her own fingers into her mouth and laps at them, gathering every single drop of your saliva that was previously coating them.

You remain in her lap, twisted underwear on while you help her finish her joint. You don’t offer to return the favour because she hasn’t allowed you to touch her in that way since the two of you left the wilderness. Honestly, you miss her whining under you. But you don’t dare comment on her recent preferences. You’re just happy to be able to still touch her at all, even if it’s just gentle caresses and not so gentle kisses.

Everything after is a haze. You climb off her lap and gather your clothes while she gets in the drivers seat.

She drives you home while you get dressed.

She stops the car in front of the gates of your house.

You leave without saying goodbye.

Because you know you’ll see her again.

You always do.

#⌐╦╾━ 𖥠 gi’s writing : ̗̀⁍ (death sentence).ᐟ †⚰︎#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie yellowjackets

214 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 8 days ago

Text

𓏵 𓂃 COINCIDENCE ⭑.ᐟ

SUMMARY — You and Natalie find yourselves in a vicious cycle that is impossible to escape, even after the breakup.

exes!natalie & reader

CW — smut, toxic!nat, toxic!reader..., slight jackienat.

1.6k words.

series masterlist.

⊱ ۫ ׅ✧ jinx's notes.ᐟ um... my first smut ever idk if i liked it 😿 anways hope u like it <3

You were together for six months—six months that sometimes weighed like an eternity, and other times shattered fragile as cracked glass, ready to splinter at the slightest touch. Natalie shifted as if she had two versions of herself: one week, she looked at you like you were the final harbor, the person she wanted to carry with her for life; the next, she seemed distant, too busy saving space on her lips for a name that wasn’t yours.

Jackie Taylor.

The ex. The almost. The shadow that had never really gone away. Their relationship had never been officially serious, but it ended when Jackie moved to another city—which, in practice, meant nothing. She might have packed her bags, but it was as if she’d left a ghost chained inside Natalie’s life. Her name slipped into conversations: first once, then twice, until it became omnipresent. Jackie was always there, even invisible.

And the precision with which she reappeared was almost cruel. Jackie had a sixth sense for resurfacing in Natalie’s life at the exact moment you started to believe you’d finally carved out a place in her heart. You’d be lying in your girlfriend’s lap, and suddenly the phone would buzz. You didn’t even need to look. It was Jackie. Always Jackie.

You weren’t stupid. You knew they talked more than they should, that there was an underground current between them, impossible to break. And Jackie didn’t bother with subtlety: the photos she sent were bolder each time, more provocative, as if distance had only been invented to intensify the game. With every image, less clothing. With every message, sweeter poison. She didn’t just want to be remembered—she wanted to reinstall herself, to steal back what she had never admitted to losing.

The sickest part was that Natalie told you. Sometimes she opened her mouth and spilled half a truth, like tossing crumbs to keep you calm. You got an edited version of the story, always missing that last 7% of sincerity—and that tiny hidden part made all the difference. That was where Jackie lived. And that was where your trust began to rot.

The breakup came just before a festival in another city. Natalie told you, with that calm, almost rehearsed tone, that she was “emotionally unavailable” and didn’t think the relationship would last. Clean words, polished, as if they were neutral. But you weren’t naive. You knew the problem had never been time or distance—the problem had a name, and it was in the same damn city, on the same damn night. Jackie Taylor. What a coincidence, right?

And, as always, Natalie threw her heart like a lit match into a dry field. Common sense vanished, and Jackie glowed in the darkness like the inevitable alternative. It didn’t matter how many times Natalie said it wasn’t about her, that she needed “space” or “to be alone.” You knew. You always knew.

And still, you accepted it. Because deep down, you already understood: Natalie’s heart had never been fully yours. Maybe not even half. What you had were fragments, borrowed slivers she handed you between a sigh and a relapse into the past. You’d always known you were competing with a ghost. But now, on the other side of the story, something inside you shifted—it wasn’t pure pain anymore, but a mix of bitterness and clarity.

Natalie kept talking to you. She came back to your ears like someone seeking a confessional. Complaining about Jackie, telling you about the fights, the jealousy, the broken promises, as if you were obligated to listen to the whole play even after being kicked off the stage. And that’s when the truth began to reveal itself: maybe the blame wasn’t only Jackie’s. Maybe it was Natalie herself—this wandering heart, always divided, incapable of belonging to just one place.

And, as always, they had broken up. Again. Coincidence!—a word that now sounded like an inside joke, a secret code for the entire toxic cycle you pretended not to see. Natalie came back to you, asking for your shoulder, begging for someone to listen. You knew exactly the kind of game you were stepping into, knew that this invitation was poisoned, but you still couldn’t say no. You set a date.

When she said she’d drive from Los Angeles to see you, your stomach twisted. It wasn’t just longing, it wasn’t just desire. It was adrenaline—the same you imagined Jackie felt when she was in your place. That dark thrill of being the “better” choice, even if only for one night, even if only under the illusion of victory. Because in the end, Natalie might have a girlfriend, but it was your door she came running to.

Coincidence, of course. Always coincidence. You repeated that word to yourself like swallowing a ready-made excuse, like trying to justify the inevitable. But the truth was harsher: Natalie’s car didn’t just drive from Los Angeles to your doorstep. It drove straight, without detour, to the space between your legs.

And then—the doorbell. The sound cut the air like a crack. A shiver ran up your spine, electricity spilling across your skin. Between guilt and excitement, between the awareness of sin and the intoxication of desire, you already knew: you had opened the door to another repetition of the same story.

You open the door. Natalie is there, leaning against the frame as if she’d run a marathon to get to you, but with that smile that mixes apology and temptation. Her scent invades first—cigarettes, cheap perfume, the road. Her gaze, as always: too tired to be innocent, too hungry to be platonic.

“Can I come in?” she asks, but the answer is already written into both your bodies.

You step aside, leaving space. Natalie walks in, and when the door closes behind her, the air grows heavier. Jackie isn’t there, but she is—she always is. She hovers like a cruel reference point. And for a second, you realize you’re about to occupy the same place you once hated in her.

Natalie drops her bag on the couch as if the whole trip had been nothing but a pretext. Before saying a word, she throws herself beside you, too close, her knee brushing yours. Her eyes gleam with that familiar blend of regret and defiance.

“I shouldn’t be here…” she whispers, but her hand is already on your thigh.

That’s what your relationship always boils down to: not “should,” but “do.” And you feel the sweet poison of victory, even if only for now. Because even after swearing loyalty to someone else, it’s you she thinks of on the road. It’s your doorbell she rings. It’s your skin she seeks.

The kiss comes without warning. Hunger disguised as longing, apology disguised as desire. The taste is bitter, full of tobacco and unspoken confessions, but you accept it.

Her hands rise, firm, demanding you forget. And you obey, even knowing tomorrow she’ll return to Jackie, and the day after she’ll return to you, and so on. It’s a cycle. A labyrinth with no exit.

The kiss turns into a bite, into hunger. Natalie pushes you back against the couch like claiming stolen property, her hands already sliding down your waist with urgency. Her fingers slip under your clothes, finding hot skin, and the shiver is immediate, violent, as if your body had been waiting for this even while your mind screamed to run.

She rips your shirt off without delicacy, as if each button were a personal enemy. Her gaze is wild, half-drunk, and when her mouth trails down your neck, leaving purple marks, you can’t tell if you’re being worshiped or punished. Maybe both.

Her knees wedge between your thighs, movement instinctive, friction tearing a muffled moan from you. Natalie smiles against your skin—that cruel smile that knows exactly the effect it has on you. Her hands roam lower, pressing, exploring, until her fingers reach the place where you’re already wet, ready, ashamed of how surrendered you are.

She doesn’t wait. She invades. The rhythm is fast, almost brutal, as if she wants to strip away every shred of resistance you have left. You moan loud, arching your back, clutching her hair like clinging to a lifeboat in stormy seas. Each thrust is an accusation and a promise all at once.

“You like knowing it’s you,” she whispers, lips wet against your ear. “Even when I should be with her.”

The confession burns hotter than the pleasure. But you don’t stop. You can’t. Your hands slip under her jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, tugging her panties aside, and now it’s you invading. Bodies collide, slick, intense, a frantic rhythm with no beginning or end—only the present, that toxic present where desire and guilt are indistinguishable.

You both unravel together, almost at the same time, moans echoing in the dark room, as if cursing and blessing each other all at once. Sweat clings to skin, kisses melt into ragged breaths, and the tension only dissolves for a few seconds—just enough for you to believe it’s over.

But it isn’t. It never is.

Natalie collapses beside you, exhausted, still laughing softly, like holding a dirty secret between her teeth. You close your eyes and feel her taste still caught in your mouth, her presence still burned into your skin. And deep down, you already know: no matter how many times this repeats, the cycle will always drag you back.

The doorbell that started the night still echoes inside you, a cruel reminder that there will always be another visit, another kiss, another mistake.

And you will open the door. Always.

🏷️:: @moesthoughts, @antlertruths, @mistynatsfavourite, @travismartinezwif3, @driftstar, @soda-kidz, @stupendousbananasharkcop, @raspberrylovc, @odissbloggg, @antlerqueensab

taglist.

#⛧ recs.⋆♱#holy peak #also Jackienat mention #for all the wrong reasons but oh well I’ll take what I can get

119 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 10 days ago

Text

Lottie Matthews

──★ Headcanons:

Lottie with antler queen reader

3 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 10 days ago

Text

── . 𐂂 Lottie with antler queen reader headcanons.

➥ what’s a queen without her most devoted follower?

pairing ⟢ antler queen!reader x devoted follower!lottie

warnings ⟢ religious undertones, worship, allusions to cannibalism, nsfw content, kinda perv lottie.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who was the one who crowned you antler queen after you survived the hunt. She bent to her knees in front of you and kissed your hand over and over while looking up at you through her eyelashes.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who claimed the cabin burning down was a sign that your reign was blessed by the wilderness. Because “It” wanted you closer, that “It” would guide you so you could show “the way” to the rest of the group.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who only feels at peace when you’re near. Which results in her being around you often, becoming your perpetual shadow, following you around like a fawn would its mother.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who believes you’re the closest link to the wilderness, to “It”, so everything you say is law and everyone must obey. And she enforcers this throughly.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who grabs your hand and leads you to the trees so you can help her hear “It” so she can better understand it.

“I can only feel it when you’re with me.”

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who’s favourite thing is to make the both of you some of her special tea. So you can spend some time together in the woods. Every time the shrooms start to hit she becomes clingy and wraps herself around you while breathing in your scent.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who sneaks into your hut late at night so she can watch you while you sleep. She kneels near your sleeping frame and prays all night to you.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who brings you food everyday, she picks the best, biggest piece of meat for you because “you’re the queen so you must take what’s best”. It’s only natural after all.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who brings you clean clothes every morning, that she washes herself because she doesn’t want anyone else touching what’s yours and helps you get dressed. Always taking her sweet time placing the antler queen crown atop your head after she combs and braids your hair.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who one night, when she couldn’t sleep snuck into your hut only to be caught by you almost immediately. But, instead of apologising or coming up with some ridiculous excuse she only begged you to let her stay. To not push her away.

“Please, I know I shouldn’t— I don’t deserve— but you must let me stay.”

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who after you let her stay, never left. You now find her every night in your hut, eyes trained on the floor while she kneels by the foot of the makeshift bed waiting patiently for your command so she can climb into bed with you and wrap her arms around you tightly. More often than not whispering prayers into your ear.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who drinks in your every word like it’s gospel. Like it’s the utmost truth. Every time you speak there’s this unmistakable glint in her eyes that only shows when you’re near.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who when winter comes gives you the biggest furs and drapes her own over you while you sleep.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who suggests the hunt knowing the two of you will be together either way. Whether it’s on this side or the other accompanied by “It” and wilderness itself like it was always supposed to be.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who sits next to you when it’s time to eat after the hunt. Who reassures you it’s okay to do so because it’s what “It” wants.

𓃚 .nsfw .ᐟ.ᐟ

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who sneaks into your hut and steals your underwear just to smell and masturbate into them later.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who gets up early in the morning to wash your clothes but only gives them to you after trying them on so they’ll smell like her on your body

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who says little prayers under her breath when you’re fingering her.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who takes you to the trees after giving you some of her herbal tea and eats you out throughly, like a woman starved. Seeking your moans like they’re words from the wilderness itself. You swear you can hear her talking to “It” in between your legs.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who is more of a giver rather than a taker. To her pleasing you is the same as pleasing the wilderness itself. And there’s nothing she’d rather do than show “It” and you her devotion.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who’s favourite thing is when you leave visible marks all over her. So she can show the others that she’s the chosen one too. That her devotion payed off.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who loves sweet soft morning sex. Especially when the two of you are scissoring and she gets to look deep into your eyes.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who wakes you up by giving you head. She just couldn’t help it. You groaned in your sleep and she took it as a command

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who waits until everyone has retreated to their huts, so it’s just the two of you, the fire burning bright and the wilderness surrounding you both. She leads you to your makeshift throne and makes you sit on it while she gets undressed. Then she sits on you and grinds against you, head thrown back, a silent prayer falling from her lips.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who always gives you head when you’re stressed but refuses to let you return the favor, which results in her humping your ass when the two of you are in bed and she thinks you’re asleep— you’re not, but you let her continue anyway.

𐂂 devoted follower!lottie who always thanks you after the two of you are done. Like she’s unworthy of your attention. Unworthy of your touch.

#(๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) gi’s headcanons (swallowed brains).ᐟ𖡎 #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #lottie yellowjackets #lottie yj #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x fem!reader #lottie matthews x female reader

213 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 10 days ago

Note

tell me if im yummy

Extremely. Five star meal. 10/10. Would recommend.

#needs salt tho #but that’s an issue for another day #vela <3 #candlelit 3000 #‧₊˚ ཐི⋆mutuals⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

6 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 11 days ago

Text

Jackienat

──★ moodboards

Jackienat secret girlfriends

Butchfemme Jackienat

6 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 11 days ago

Text

Jackienat secret girlfriends moodboard ⭑.ᐟ

She understands me like you did, she really──

l o v e s me. I'm a saint living in sin. Oh, she really l o a t h e s me──

── She really loves me.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets moodboard #moodboard #natalie scatorccio #jackie taylor #jackie taylor yj #nat scatorccio #natalie yellowjackets #jackie yellowjackets #jackienat #jackie taylor x natalie scatorccio #jackienat moodboard #jackie x nat #they’re canon argue with the wall #they’re real to ME #popular x burnout trope will always be peak

86 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 11 days ago

Note

make sure to season me at least

Well obviously I’m not a savage 🙄🙄

#vela <3 #candlelit 3000 #‧₊˚ ཐི⋆mutuals⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

6 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 13 days ago

Note

im honored

YAYYYYYYYYY

#*takes a bite of you*#or something like that I don’t know how the whole ** thing works #vela <3 #candlelit 3000 #‧₊˚ ཐི⋆mutuals⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

6 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 13 days ago

Note

LMAO WHAT

#vela <3 #candlelit 3000 #‧₊˚ ཐི⋆mutuals⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

5 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 13 days ago

Note

i wanna eat your theme

I wanna eat you

#WHO SAID THAT ??????#on a real note thank you pookie 🫶🫶🫶#vela <3 #candlelit 3000 #‧₊˚ ཐི⋆mutuals⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

3 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 13 days ago

Text

Never in my life have I yearned for a cigarette more than after seeing this photo.

#( ´ཀ` ) gigi yaps (bites).ᐟ⚠︎#soapy give me a cig please #literally anyone give me a cig I’ll give you my first born I promise #soapy thatcher #sophie thatcher

31 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 14 days ago

Text

If you witnessed my major crash out over the tumblr tags no you didn’t. 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

#( ´ཀ` ) gigi yaps (bites).ᐟ⚠︎#THE TAGS WERENT FUCKING WORKING I SWEAR #that is in fact why I posted the same fic like 3 times #that’s it crash out over

8 notes · View notes

marioandluigigi · 14 days ago

Text

⭑.ᐟ Life of the party 𝒩𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒸𝒸𝒾𝑜 𝓍 𝒻𝑒𝓂!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

summary: in which you and Natalie have been best friends for years and unknown to you she has been harbouring feelings for you since the two of you met. What happens when she has one too many drinks and sees you giggling with some jock?

warnings: underage drinking and smoking, sneaking out, pining, homoerotic friendship. Wc: 2.7k.

⤷ 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉.

You feel the cold of the wooden door against your cheek as you press your face tightly against it, listening to the quiet footsteps of your mother as she makes her way into her bedroom.

You let out a sigh of relief and glance at the clock that sits atop your door, 11 PM. Still too early and putting into account Nat’s usual tardiness it’s even earlier than that.

You face the mirror for the nineteenth time and run your fingers through your hair while looking at yourself in the mirror. It’s a party in the woods, one that’s meant to celebrate the yellowjackets recent victory among a few of your peers and the usual couple of college kids that always manage to find their way into high school parties. You’re wearing a dress, one that shows your cleavage and your shoulders, you’re not underdressed but you do wonder if you’re overdressed. You’re about to reach into your closet to change when—

The unmistakable dreadful sound of Nat’s Ford, pulling up to your driveway fills your ears, with its grinding sound that makes you wonder if today’s the day the thing explodes.

You make your way to the window and look at her through the glass.

Nat in all her reckless rebellious glory, arm swung outside the window of the car, half smoked cigarette balanced between her index and middle finger, untamed bleach blonde hair clinging to the side of her face and her signature cocky smirk that she flashes you anytime her eyes meet yours. So incredibly chaotic. So incredibly her.

You open the window of your bedroom with a click sound and leave it open, swinging both of your feet over and jumping onto the soft grass beneath you. You land with a heavy thud but don’t fall over, which is a plus.

Nat’s eyes finally meet yours, soft and unguarded, the kind of look she only reserves for you. She gets out of the driver’s seat and makes her way around her moms beat up car to open the door for you.

“How charming.” You comment while getting inside of the car and letting her close the door for you.

“Yea, yea. I’m a grade A gentlemen, princess.”

She settles inside once again. The car littered with cigarette buts and empty cans. But you can’t seem to mind, not when she’s around, you’ve recently realised she could do just about anything and you wouldn’t have cared.

She looks at you once again.

“You look… pretty.” She says while scratching the back of her neck and looking you up and down.

“Was that a compliment?” You tease.

“Shut up—“ She complains while throwing her head back.

“Uh— I won’t, wait. Are you drunk?” You question while tilting her face in a half assed attempt to confirm her sobriety.

“C’mon princess, I’d never risk your life.”

“Wouldn’t put driving under the influence past you. You know?” You comment, an uncomfortable weight suddenly settling into your chest as you point out her reckless behaviour. She wouldn’t risk your life but she’d risk hers and you don’t like that, in fact you hate the thought so much that you have to blink back tears at the thought of her being gone.

“C’mon—“ She starts. But then stops abruptly. “Whatever, you’re the one driving this piece of crap back to my trailer anyway.”

“What? You suddenly trust me with your car?” You inquire. “You wanna get trashed that badly?”

“Hey, free booze is free booze.” She says, lifting her hands up to make a point. “Plus, this car has seen shittier drivers than you. Trust me.”

The ride to the party is calm, filled with laughter and light banter while Nat throws cigarette after cigarette out the window.

At one point her hand settles into your thigh and you make no effort to remove it.

Eventually the two of you reach your destination— the outskirts of the forest that surrounds Wiskayok high, Nat’s hand leaves your thigh as she parks her moms Ford and you immediately miss her warmth. But she makes up for it by opening your door and grabbing your hand to lead you further into the trees and in the direction of the loud music that pinpoint the party’s location.

The gathering is exactly what you’d expect, high school kids walking around, seniors making out on the hood of their cars like there’s no tomorrow and the unmistakable stench of cigarette smoke and weed filling the air.

You spot Jackie, Shauna and Jeff in their own little corner, their whole thing always leaves you uncomfortable but you push through it in favour of hospitality and wave to them receiving waves back in return. Natalie doesn’t bother with the interaction too preoccupied in squeezing your hand tighter. Like she’s afraid you’ll disappear in between her fingers.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” She informs, only now letting go of your hand. “Be right back.” She says, before disappearing into the crowd of smoke and bobbing heads.

You decide to walk around while you wait for her. You were almost halfway through the terrain when you feel a hand grab your shoulder.

“That was fast—“ You comment. But when you turn around you’re met with short black hair rather than Nat’s bleach blonde mullet.

Josh, you recognise. Tall, soccer player, darling of all the girls in your chem class. So, what did he want with you?

“Josh.” You say calmly, your eyes wondering over his figure in an inquisitive manner.

“You’re the chick from my chem class right?” He starts, in a poor attempt to make conversation.

“Seems that way.” You say, unimpressed. “I’m surprised you noticed, with how much class you’ve missed so far.”

“Cmon you know how it is, the ball takes priority.”

“I play soccer too, you know? And last I checked we’re the ones going to nationals, not you.” You point out.

You brace yourself for a pesky little argument over how women’s soccer isn’t the same as men’s and how theirs is much more difficult even though it’s the same sport and bla bla bla but, to your surprise, he laughs rather than mansplain soccer to you. So you giggle alongside him.

“Touche. Saw you girls last game by the way. You were brilliant. Star of the field, if I say so myself… Can I—interest you in a drink?” He asks, suggestively.

“Can’t— I’m driving my friend home.” You say, turning him down politely, your eyes scan over your surroundings for Nat, hoping she hasn’t gone too far with the drinking just yet.

“Oh, that’s alright. Water then?”

Now you feel bad, he’s actually— to your surprise— really nice. But unfortunately your heart only races for scuffed combat boots and bleach blonde mullets. And… where the hell is she?

“Josh… I really can’t—I’m sort of seeing someone.” It’s a lie, you wish you were seeing someone, seeing her. But you don’t want to lead him on so you settle for a half truth. Or rather half lie.

“Oh, that’s alright…” He says, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “Nice talking to you though. Maybe another time.”

“Yea, you too.” You offer.

After he leaves, you turn around to go look for Nat, hoping she hasn’t done anything too Nat-like.

You spot a head of bleach blonde hair against a wall making out with some guy. Your heart drops momentarily but then you notice that the hair is too straight and too perfect to be hers, so you sigh in relief and face the other way.

You spot her near the trees two cups in hand, staring down the spot where you had your short conversation with Josh.

You smile, relieved to have finally found her. But when you start making your way to her she throw one of the cups on the ground and downs the other before turning away from you.

You’re left hurt and confused. But decide to push past in and run after her anyway hoping she’s just drunk and throwing a fit because she didn’t manage to snag a pack of cigs from an unsuspecting freshman or something silly of the sort.

But when you finally manage to reach her and grab a handful of her leather jacket she simply gives you a blank look and forcefully shrugs away from you muttering something under her breath that you can’t quite make.

The rest of the party passes by slowly and painfully, you’re left alone so you scan your surroundings searching for company while Nat cools down from whatever the hell got her so upset. You spot Laura Lee and Lottie sitting in a cooler, the latter with a half smoker cigarette in between her fingers and Shauna leaning against a truck staring Jackie and Jeff down with a red cup in her hand. Shauna looks like she’s going through something of her own so you decide your best bet are Lottie and Laura Lee.

“Hey.” You manage to say as you approach the pair.

“Hey. Where’s Nat?” Laura Lee asks, obviously confused as to why the two of you are not together given the fact that everyone jokes that the two of you are a matching pair, buy one take two kind of deal.

“She’s— mad at something.”

“At what?” Lottie inquires. Bringing the cigarette to her lips again. Which earns her a disapproving look from Laura Lee that she pointedly ignores.

“Beats me. I just hope she snaps out of it soon. I’m supporting to take her waisted ass home.” You offer.

“Here come sit.” Laura Lee invites. Making space for you in the cooler as she sits closer to Lottie.

The three of you engage in light conversation. Mostly about nationals, what you’re planning to pack and the private plane that Lottie's dad snagged for you all.

“Oh, there she is!” Laura Lee says, index finger pointing to the bonfire that’s placed a few feet from the three of you.

You follow her finger, your eyes squinting in the dark until you finally manage to make out Natalie’s figure, Kevyn and another boy by her side and… a plastic baggie with something inside dangling from her hand— absolutely not.

“I don’t think so.” You say before you’re bolting in her direction.

When you finally reach her you snag the bag from her hand and swat away her attempts to get it back.

“No! Absolutely not.” You tell her, voice firm while you cage both of her hands with one of yours and hold the baggie behind your back with the other.

“Hey, that's mine!” The redhead says.

“Then take it.” You throw the bag in his general direction and watch him scramble for it. Bending his body in unnatural ways just so the contents of the bag don’t fall on the dirt beneath your feet.

“We’re going home.” You demand, gripping Nat tighter while you try to shake some sense into her.

“You— can’t tell me what to do.” She drunkenly rambles.

“Yes, I can we’re leaving, now. You’ve had enough.”

“You go.” She whines.

“I can’t go asshole I need to take you home.”

“No—“ she starts, hand now gripping your arm as she tries and fails to appear steady and sober. “Go be with your new boyfriend and leave me here.”

Her self deprecating commentary would make you sad on her behalf if you weren’t so damn confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“John—” She slurs the name. “Or Josh or Jay or something like that… why are there so many J names…” she rambles.

“Josh?” You ask.

“You like him better than me.” She slumps over now. Arms circling your waist while her head rests on the crook of your neck as she leans heavily against you.

“Nat—” You start, softly. “Hey, calm down please.” You manage to say as you rub her back.

“Breathe, you're just drunk.” You offer, you’ve never seen her like this Nat has never been a crying drunk so what the hell is happening right now?

“I like you so much…” she says against your neck. “I always have— even when you had that weird horrible pastel pink phase in 6th grade.”

You’re stunned, but you let her continue.

“And now you leave me here for John.” Her head lifts up from your neck. A string of saliva connecting it to your neck for a few seconds before her sad green eyes meet yours. “Why?” She pleads. “Is it because he’s tall?” She asks, with such a serious expression on her face that you almost want to laugh.

“Nat— what?”

“Why don’t you like me.” She pleads, her eyes watery now.

Your heart breaks at that, you want to tell her that you do like her, that you’ve liked her for years, that you turned down Josh for her, for the possibility of being with her. But at the same time she’s drunk so you don’t know how much of this she truly means.

“I do like you.” You offer.

“No, you don’t. Not like— I like you.” Nat protests, with such fire in her gaze that you wonder if the mere implication of you liking her more than she likes you managed to sober her up, somehow.

“I like you like this.”

Is what she says before she smashes her lips against yours. It’s not the first time the two of you have kissed but it sure feels different.

But you pull away. Almost immediately leaving her sad eyes even sadder.

“You’re drunk.” You say, because the possibility of this being just another drunk make out session between the two of you hurts worse than the pain in her irises.

“I had like 4 beers.” She complains.

“You were about to take whatever the heck is in that bag.” You spat.

“Because of you.”

“Since when have I encouraged you to do drugs?” You say, throwing your hands in the air at the accusation.

“To forget you.” She confesses.

Oh.

“What?” You question, softly. Maybe she meant what she said after all.

“I’m not drunk… Ok— I’m a little drunk.” She sighs. “But I meant what I said.”

“You did?”

“Obviously.” She says, matter of factly.

“I did too.” You admit. Because you did, you liked her. Hell you loved her. You loved her style, her quirks, her loud and brash personality, you even loved her weird smell of cigarettes mixed with cheap vanilla perfume.

A beat passes.

She takes a step closer to you, tentatively, like predator studying its prey.

Her lips find yours again. Soft and gentle it’s not much more than a peck but you close your eyes regardless and feel her fingers curl around your waist.

She steps back and looks you over waiting to find rejection in your gaze. When she finds none she goes for it again.

This time more firmly. Your lips lock with hers for a second time. What started soft turns passionate fast when you feel her tongue pass past your lips and into your mouth, demanding entrance like it belongs there, like it always has.

You grab the back of her head, your fingers pulling harshly on the bleach locks while you suck her tongue into your mouth. Which makes her moan into the kiss.

After a few moments the two of you pull away breathless, panting and searching for air.

“You believe me now?” She asks, unable to mask the annoyance in her voice.

“Yea…” You breathe out.

She smiles softly and interlocks her fingers with yours, once again.

“Hot.” The redhead mutters.

Natalie turns to her friends, who are still there, for some reason.

“What are you two assholes still doing here?” She snaps looking between the both of them.

“We’re leaving.” Kevyn says, lifting his hands up in surrender while grabbing his friend by the neck and leading him to the other side of the bonfire.

“Sorry about that.” Nat says while squeezing your waist.

“It’s alright.” You concede.

And you let her kiss you again soft and passionate, the bonfire illuminating both of your faces while the crowd and the curious glances blur into the background.

#⌐╦╾━ 𖥠 gi’s writing : ̗̀⁍ (death sentence).ᐟ †⚰︎#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie yellowjackets #†₊ ⊹♱ graveyard shift (asks).ᐟ𖦹.𓉸

179 notes · View notes