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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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There’s a table in the school library that’s nestled in the corner, right by a radiator; Steve has claimed it ever since his double block of ‘private study periods’ began.

Not that he’s planning on doing any studying: it’s the last day of school before the winter break, and while his face has healed up from the whole Billy Hargrove Incident, he still finds himself feeling wiped at random—like his body’s having a delayed adrenaline crash ever since he pulled Dustin out of that freaky vine-infested tunnel.

So really, this spot should be ideal for a couple hours of not having to think.

And it would be perfect, if his eyes weren’t instinctively drawn to movement at the front desk.

Because for the past god-knows-how-long, Eddie Munson has been in a back-and-forth with the librarian.

It had started when he ambled up to the desk with a healthy pile of books in his hands, placed them down neatly, all ready to be stamped. Flashed a charming smile.

Steve was too far away to hear the words, but he got the gist that whatever the librarian had said amounted to no, absolutely not, because Eddie scooped the books back up, dumped them on a table a little distance away from Steve’s, then hemmed and hawed before returning to the desk with a more modest pile than before.

He was sent away again with presumably the same refusal, and so the pattern repeated until this very minute: he’s returning with just one book in his hands, his smile less charming now, more desperate.

But… no luck.

Eddie slouches back to the table in defeat. Just stands there, staring down at the books.

And goddamn it, Steve thinks, now he’s invested.

“Hey. Munson,” he says in an undertone. “What’s up?”

He doesn’t miss the weird kind of double take Eddie gives him, but at least Steve knows it’s not because of his face being a mess this time—seriously, drawing looks from students when all he wanted was to get in line for crappy cafeteria pizza had not been fun.

“Nothing,” Eddie says with a shrug, and he flashes another wide smile that makes Steve think bullshit. “Apparently I racked up a mountain of late fees. Who knew?” He sighs, glancing at his wristwatch. “Guess I’ve got enough time to just read the—oh. Um. Hey?”

“These books?” Steve confirms, having already stood up to look at them.

Eddie blinks a few times. “Yeah, these—uh, Harrington, what the fuck do you think you’re—?”

Steve heads over to the front desk with the books. It’s not all that difficult of a decision to make; he remembers Tommy H had his own library late fees in freshman year, but got nothing more than a simpering, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, sweetie,” just because his mom knew someone on the school board.

“For checking out, please,” Steve says, not bothering with a smile as he hands over his library card.

The only resistance he gets is a raised eyebrow from the librarian before all the books are stamped.

“What the fuck,” Eddie says, voice flat; he doesn’t take the books when Steve tries to give them to him, so Steve just shrugs and goes back to his seat, sets the books pointedly on the edge of the table.

“Look, man, it’s up to you, but I’m not gonna take them. They’ll just be sitting here.”

Eddie huffs. He goes over to the books, his hand twitching towards them before drawing back, like he’s at war with himself.

“You—you didn’t have to do that,” he gets out as if it physically pains him to do so.

Prickly, Steve thinks.

“It’s no big deal,” he says. “My account’s gathering dust, so someone might as well get the good of it.”

At hearing that, Eddie looks a little less defensive. He chews on his lips for a few seconds, then says, his tone serious, “Harrington, I’ll—I’ll forget. Like, with the holidays… like, I guarantee you, even if I write a million fucking reminders, I’m gonna take these books and forget to bring ‘em back for months.”

“Oh, no,” Steve says dryly, “lemme go alert the press, I just heard a blatant confession to a crime. Dude, just take them, what do I care if your homework takes you months to—”

“It’s not even for school,” Eddie interrupts through gritted teeth, “it’s dumb, it’s just—”

“Jesus Christ. Lemme call the press again, sounds like you’re reading a book for fun.”

Eddie stares at him. Steve raises an eyebrow in challenge—he could do this all day; just the other week, he’d beaten Mike in a brutal staring contest that felt like it went on for hours.

Eddie breaks first. “Fine,” he says with another huff, but he’s less agitated when handling the books—lingers thoughtfully on their titles, puts a couple in his backpack. The rest he opens at seemingly random parts, but it looks like he knows what he’s searching for.

And then it seems as if he’s just going to pick up the remaining books and walk away—Steve expects him to, honestly—but he ends up staying where he is, gives Steve a look of consideration, almost like he’s a book worth reading, too.

“You stole my table, you know?” Eddie says.

“Uh, no,” Steve says automatically, then adds with more confidence, “I was definitely here first.”

Eddie snorts. “Nope. My senior year, uh,” he shrugs self-deprecatingly, “the first time around. That was my spot. Was pretty possessive over it too, think I signed the table, like, underneath.”

Steve’s eyebrows rise in interest; he runs a finger along the underside of the table and soon feels it: an E.M scratched into the wood.

“Huh,” he says. “Guess you’re right.”

A pause.

And then Steve surprises himself.

“There’s, um, room here, if you want? I’m not gonna use the whole table.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. There’s a long enough silence in which Steve considers just telling him to forget about it, but then—

Eddie sits down opposite him.

It’s not as awkward as Steve was expecting: Eddie seems focused enough on his books, on bringing out a battered looking journal with sheets of paper that look like they’re hanging on by a thread. He roots around his backpack some more, retrieves a ballpoint pen with a quiet, triumphant, “Aha!”

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve isn’t even making an attempt to look busy; his own side of the table is bare.

“Didn’t know you were left-handed,” Steve says after a moment.

Eddie looks up from his note-taking. He smirks, waggles his eyebrows briefly. “Fitting, huh? Spooky.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

And Eddie actually laughs—hushed, but it still counts as one.

He soon returns to being absorbed in whatever it is he’s writing, which means Steve has less of a distraction when the familiar wave of tiredness washes over him.

He tries to sit up as well as he can, conscious of the fact that he’s not alone, but the radiator is the perfect temperature, and the steady scratch of Eddie’s pen has a soporific effect. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his head is nodding down with dwindling energy to try and stop it—hears Eddie’s voice, as if from very far away, rising in question.

Steve sniffs sharply, jerks his head back up and blinks hard. “What?”

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and he sounds genuine. “Didn’t know you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says.

“Uh, okay,” Eddie says. His lips twitch. “That was an awfully long blink then, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve retorts mildly. He stretches slightly, hides a yawn behind his hand. “Did you actually want something or—”

“Nah, wasn’t important.”

Steve frowns, unconvinced. The side of Eddie’s left hand is covered in ink, and Steve can see where his pen has started to die on him as his writing gets more faded across the page.

Steve puts a hand in his pocket, brings out another ballpoint and throws it at Eddie.

The pen bounces along the table, and Eddie manages to catch it one-handed.

“Good catch,” Steve says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He sounds almost uncertain.

Silence falls. It only takes another minute or two of hearing Eddie writing away for Steve’s determination to stay awake to waver again. He slumps forward with a mumbled, “M’just gonna…” and lays his head down.

Eddie stops writing.

“Hey, man, are you… okay? Like, if you feel… if you wanna go home I could take you to the nurse? Or—”

“I’m fine,” Steve says into his folded arms. “S’just… the aftermath of… stuff. No big deal.”

“Oh?” Eddie says tentatively.

Steve lifts his head up a bit, squints dubiously. “C’mon, Munson. You must’ve heard the rumour mill.”

Billy Hargrove had spread it all over the school, how he had ‘taught King Steve a lesson.’ In all honesty, Steve hadn’t cared all that much about how he himself came across in whatever story Billy created, was just relieved that at least Max and Lucas’s names had been kept out of it.

“I don’t put much stock in rumours,” Eddie says carefully. “Folks can say… all kindsa things.”

Steve nods faintly. Fair point.

“Okay, but you can take a little bit of stock in this one. Like, a smidge.”

Steve demonstrates with his thumb and forefinger.

It’s only when Eddie doesn’t smile in response that Steve realises he’d been hoping to make him laugh again. Maybe.

“Huh. Well. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Steve says tiredly.

“Harrington. I’m not stupid, y’know? That was more than a… a stupid fight after school or something. Like, I can remember what your face looked like.”

“Gee, thanks.” Steve sets his head back down, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t—I just meant whatever it was, it… it went too far. Way too fucking far.”

Steve yawns again, doesn’t bother hiding it. “Yeah. Something like that.”

He’s resigning himself to the thought of waking up with a stiff neck before Eddie sighs and says, “If you’re gonna sleep, Harrington, don’t be an amateur about it.”

Steve looks up in time to see Eddie reaching underneath the table with one leg, hooking his ankle round the empty chair next to Steve and shoving it closer to him.

“Three or four’s probably the best amount for stretching out on,” Eddie says. “Uh, speaking from experience.”

Steve smiles. “Noted.”

He manoeuvres himself until he’s lying much more comfortably across the seats, using his backpack and coat as a pillow.

Frustratingly but predictably, despite his fatigue, sleep doesn’t come easily, so Steve looks underneath the table and asks, “What’re you writing about, Munson?”

He can see Eddie’s boots, how one foot is tapping away, as if in time to a song no-one else can hear.

“Um, I was just… getting inspiration for… it’s kinda like. Like a story, but—”

“Don’t hurt yourself, dude,” Steve says, “I know what a campaign is.”

The foot tapping stops.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Eddie says.

He sounds a bit far away again, though Steve knows that’s just in his head; he can feel his eyelids drooping.

“You’ve got…” He sighs, voice trailing off as he finishes, “No idea…”

Eddie launches into a speech; Steve can follow it well enough for a little while, Eddie rambling about the kind of decisions he thinks his players will make in the game, but eventually the words become a blur, and he drifts off just like that, into an unexpectedly peaceful sleep.

He wakes with the lightest of touches to his shoulder, a soft, “Steve?” that nevertheless makes him jolt to full alertness in a blink, reaching for a bat he doesn’t currently have.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, almost falling back against the table. “What the hell kinda military training d’you have, Harrington?”

“Just have good reflexes,” Steve says, hopes it sounds casual enough as he breathes through his suddenly racing heart.

“Yeah, that’s one way to fucking put it. Anyway, uh. Sorry, didn’t mean to, like, startle you, but you slept right through the bell, man.”

Steve sits up; the library is empty apart from them, the librarian shooting them a not so subtle glare. And he realises that while everyone else was rushing out of school, eager for the holidays to start, Eddie must’ve stayed. Waited for him.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, quickly puts on his coat.

“God, sorry, you didn’t have to—if I’ve made you late, I’m—”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Eddie puts his backpack strap across one shoulder. “I wasn’t in a hurry. Um, are you… like, good to drive? I can give you a ride, if—”

“I’m okay,” Steve says, struck by the consideration behind the offer. He means what he says though; he feels pleasantly refreshed. He smiles self-effacingly. “Think I need one class where I can just sleep, and then I’ll get through the day.”

Eddie gives a playful scoff. “That’s already a thing, Harrington, it’s called first period.”

They walk out of the library together, and Steve finds that it’s kind of… nice, honestly. He keeps waiting for some awkwardness to creep in again, but it never does.

“Big holiday plans?” Eddie asks, smalltalk that should be stilted, but it just sounds like he’s sincerely interested in the answer.

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Oh, I’ve got—you know the Snow Ball thing tomorrow, at the middle school? There’s this kid I know, I’m gonna give him a ride there, but—”

Steve breaks off with a fond shake of the head, knowing that there’s this kid I know doesn’t really give it justice, doesn’t say the full truth: that Dustin Henderson has somehow wormed his way into Steve’s goddamn heart forever.

“His mom’s invited me over for dinner tonight,” he continues. “Think he wants, like, a dress-rehearsal of his outfit or something, which is probably the closest he’ll ever come to admitting he’s nervous. I kinda feel for him, honestly. God, do you remember being thirteen? Everything seemed to matter so much, and most of it was just… stupid shit.”

They’ve reached the parking lot, and Eddie gives Steve a sideways look with a bemused smile.

“Woah, Harrington, we’re still in school, remember? Don’t think we’re meant to sound so world-weary yet.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah.” He gestures at Eddie’s get-up. “Bet you’ve never once cared about the stupid shit, though.”

What people think.

Eddie’s smile turns more knowing. “Shockingly, Harrington,” he says, “I didn’t come out the womb like this.”

They both hesitate; they’re at Steve’s car now, Eddie’s van parked in a space that’s further away. There’s no reason, really, for the conversation to continue any longer.

But Eddie still lingers.

“Uh, enjoy your dinner, I guess. If the… dress-rehearsal goes shit, just tell the kid it’s good luck for the real night.”

Steve laughs. “He’s in the Drama Club, so that might work, actually. Thanks, Munson.” He opens the car door as Eddie nods, starts to head off to his van. Seized by a sudden impulse, Steve calls, “Happy holidays!”

“Yeah, you too.” Eddie turns, tapping at his temple exaggeratedly. “Won’t forget about the books, I promise.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You better not,” he says, tongue-in-cheek.

He starts the car and heads for Dustin’s house, honks the horn when he drives past Eddie’s van, catches Eddie waving.

Steve thinks he quite likes the idea (regardless of whether it’ll put his library account in jeopardy), of the books finding a permanent home at Eddie’s place. Briefly imagines Eddie writing with an ink-stained hand, curled up safely in a world of his own—where the only monsters are the ones that live in between the pages.

#i’m forever in love with ‘first’ meetings i cannot help myself. can’t help writing about winter in spring too apparently #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and dustin

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moonlightsolo · 1 year

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can you write neteyam and human reader you’re exploring in the forest and ends up losing you and when he finds you after searching for a long time you’re actually having so much fun gathering things and running around and it’s all cute and protective! ^.^

i looove nete n human reader it’s my weakness … i hope u like this!!!

“nete! c’mon!” you call out to your boyfriend as you run amongst the trees. you giggle as you leap over a fallen log in one fluid motion, somehow landing on your feet over the other side.

“hey!” your boyfriends accented voice cackles from behind you, but your feet refuse to relent. obviously, if he really wanted to catch up to you, he would. his long legs give him the advantage. your head dodges branches, and vines, and your legs hop over rocks as you sprint through the foliage.

something bright catches your eyes next to your swift feet, stopping you in your tracks. you’re finally able to take a deep breath as you slowly backtrack. right at the base of a tree trunk, three bright pink flowers sit buried in the dirt, rustling slightly in the wind.

a fwäkìwll; a mantis orchid.

the huffing and puffing boy catches up to you, his usual unruly braids are secured behind his head. with two that must’ve escaped that frame his face perfectly, “you’re nuts, you know that?” he laughs breathlessly.

“look!” you bend down to examine the flora, admiring the softness of the petals, “oh my, it’s so beautiful.”

neteyam can’t help but giggle at how you gawk over a simple little plant. something he’ll never understand, but he will always appreciate your fascination.

your hands reach into the small bag slung across your body to pull out a notebook, flipping to an empty page to sketch a rough draft of the flowers.

his large four-fingered hand rests on the top of your head to softly rustle your hair, pressing his fingers into your skin to slightly massage your scalp. your head angles up to look at him, smiling wide at your boy before stuffing your head back into your book.

your pencil scratches satisfyingly against the lined paper; instinctively bringing your lip between your teeth as you focus.

“i’ll be right back, okay? stay here, my love.” neteyam pats your head as you nod, but truly his words went in one ear and out the other. it was something about him leaving, but your attention is taken up by the flower.

once you have a few key points labeled on your little picture, you finally close the book. your eyes dart around to seek out the blue skin of your na’vi boyfriend, but something else catches your eye.

behind a wide tree trunk in the distance, you see the edge of a plant. the loreyu; also known as the helicoradian!! you excitedly spring to your feet, and creep toward the giant plant. ducking under thick vines and swatting at buzzing bugs.

on the way there, you stumble upon a small stream that has glittering rocks and gems under the water. obviously, you can’t help but snag a few and store them in your bag— but you can’t let yourself get too off track, so you continue forward.

the salmon-colored spiraled plant is almost twenty feet high, which is ginormous compared to your tiny human body. as you grow closer, you realize the one loreyu is surrounded by clusters of smaller and even bigger ones.

“oh my god.” you breathe out in shock as you carefully weave between the helicoradia; already having the knowledge that if they’re merely brushed against, they’ll retract into the ground.

you mindfully sink to your knees, folding your legs underneath your body as you lean back on your heels. you unlatch the notebook from being pressed against your chest, flipping through the used pages to find the one you’re looking for.

you’ve already observed this plant elsewhere in the forest, so theres a few notes and drawings written down already. you decide to perfect the previous drawing you have in the middle of your page, even sketching a close-up of the edge of the leaf.

you tuck your pencil into the crease of the book before closing it and sliding it back into the safety of your bag. you glance up into the sky, but you can barely make out the blue color from the plants that tower over you.

it’s so serene and peaceful; you’re hidden amongst these intimidating plants that are five times the size of you. it seems like nothing could ever hurt you, as if you’re shielded from the unforgiving environment of pandora.

you carefully lay down against the grassy soil. once your back hits the warm ground, you suck in a deep breath— mentally wishing you could breathe their air to be able to smell the fresh dirt.

although the oxygen mask is your key to survive, it’s also so suffocating. one of the biggest problems it gives you is that you’re unable to kiss neteyam whenever you want. only able to get inside the privacy of your room in the scientists shack, but even he needs his own mask.

wait, neteyam. where is neteyam?!

you abruptly sit up in your spot, suddenly feeling as if you’re claustrophobic from the menancing plants that surround you in every which way. oh god, you’re gonna throw up. your feet scramble to stand as you panic, causing your shoulder to brush against the tendrils of the plant.

with a pop, it sucks itself into the ground. the movement creates a chain reaction that triggers the entire field to recoil into the dirt. you watch as each plant disappears, waiting until the area clears entirely. everything around you looks the same, and absolutely nothing looks familiar.

something firm grasps your upper body from behind, strongly spinning you around to face them.

your frozen expression is met with wide, worried eyes that belong to neteyam, “what are you doing?!? where were you?” he lectures as arms tug you tightly into his chest. he briefly embraces you before pulling away just as fast to stare back down at you.

“i told you to stay where you were! why did you walk away?” his voice cracks from his raw emotion, his honey-colored eyes dart frantically over your face.

“i’m—i’m sorry, i- i didn’t realize i walked so far away… i was just taking notes and… drawing.” your voice stumbles over itself.

his shoulders drop slightly from your anxious voice, his eyes watch how your quickened breath slightly fogs the glass of your mask.

coldness washes over his body when he realizes just how harsh he sounds and the points of his ears droop from his realization, “you scared me. i thought i lost you.” his sharp voice has softened and his tight grip loosens on your shoulders.

you take a step forward to stand in between his feet to wrap yourself around his body, smooshing yourself into the warm skin just above his navel. “i’m sorry i won’t do it again.” you whimper out, your apology slightly muffled.

his hand soothingly cradles the back of your head as he holds you against him, “don’t be sorry.” he tsks, “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have left you.”

your head angles up to gaze at him, giving him a soft downturned smile, “well, i should’ve listened to what you were saying.”

“s’okay. you’re with me now, that’s all that matters.” his fingers toy with the elastic band of your oxygen mask, itching to rip it off and kiss you; but he knows that he can’t.

“oh! i uh- i found some crystals! i think you can use them for your clothing and your hair beads, ‘n stuff.. do you wanna see?” your hand wiggles your bag persuadingly with an excited grin.

neteyam stares down at you in awe and nods his head, “‘course i wanna see, ma yawntu. show me.” he nudges his nose in the air for you to continue.

your hands rummage through the weaved sack on your hip, pushing past your notebook to the little bag at the bottom filled with the rocks. you pluck it out to dump the contents into your palm, admiring how the multi-colored crystals sparkle under the sunlight.

“those are perfect. i must make you some jewelry out of them.” his eyes brighten from the idea, “what would you like? a necklace or somethin’ else?” one of his fingertips roll the rocks in your palm to examine them, careful not to push them off into the grass.

“really? you‘re gonna make me something?” your voice sounds surprised, which is shocking to him. of course, he is going to make you something; you’re his mate, his muntxate.

when he first courted you, he gifted you a handmade bracelet — which you’re currently still wearing and have no plans to take it off, and the weaved bag that never leaves your side.

“yes, for you, silly. who else would i make jewelry for?” neteyam rolls his eyes at you playfully, a sneaky smirk crawling it’s way onto his lips.

your eyes flit over his face, still surprised, even after all this time, that you’ve bagged yourself a tall, gorgeous, blue alien. something comes over your body, a sudden rush of adrenaline as you suck in a deep breath of your oxygen to hold your breath.

confusion twists over neteyams features as your hand grips the lower part of your mask to push it over the top of your head, “what are you-?” his question is cut off by your hands reaching up to grip the edge of his waist adornment to tug him down to you.

he happily obliges with a pearly grin, ducking his head down to your height to urgently pull you into a kiss. you smile when his lips move against yours and his hand presses into the small of your back to lean your body slightly backwards.

even though kissing him is a rare occasion in itself, it still feels like the first time— every. single. time.

his tail curls around his back to wrap around your upper thigh to hold your body in place, as if his hands aren’t strong enough to do so by themselves.

neteyam reluctantly pulls back, staring down to admire your beauty without something separating him from you. his hand sits heavy on your neck with his fingers curled up under your jaw. his thumb swipes down the bridge of your nose, and over your plump lips before pulling the mask back over your face.

your human features are so soft, and delicate; he can’t help but touch you without your mask whenever he gets the chance.

once the mask is firmly fitted over your face you suck in, a definitely needed, sharp breath. your chest expands as your lungs inhale the air, giving neteyam a small sad smile. “i love you.” you whisper once you’re finally able to talk.

neteyam’s face lights up from those three words, his lanky arms wrap around your tiny frame to lift you into the air to his height. it’s nothing new to express your love to each other, but whenever he hears those words it feels surreal to him.

the sudden change in height makes you squeal, and wrap your arms around his neck for support, “i love you.” he replies and presses his forehead to the glass, which you instantly lean forward into.

“let’s head back to camp. we can get some food, and just hide in your room and do nothing for the rest of the day?” he offers as he lowers you back down to the ground.

when your feet hit the softness of the grass, your hand reaches out to grab his. neteyam’s fingers practically engulf yours, so you decide to hold onto him the best you can.

“sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.” your voice hums with a content grin.

neteyam gives you a little nod, before looking around to see which way he should go. he begins to walk to lead you back to his ikran, mindful to go slow since his legs are much longer than yours.

but not without his tail wrapping protectively around your leg. this time, he’ll make sure you won’t stray away from his side, not even a little bit...

stop this is so cute i’m in love w this 😭

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mermaidgirl30 · 6 months

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✨Run Rabbit✨

A/N: This idea literally came out of nowhere today, so I had to hurry and write it real quick! This idea is based off the song “Run, Rabbit Run!” by Flanagan and Allen. The song would not leave my head, and then I got this image of Joel chasing reader through an abandoned mansion. This one is a tad bit dark, but I hope you enjoy! If you liked this work, please think of reblogging and leaving me comments 🩷 Thank you to @ozarkthedog for being my beta 🥰

Summary: At the beginning of every month, you meet Joel to play a little game of hide and seek at the abandoned mansion near Jackson. It’s not just any game of hide and seek though. It’s dark and it’s twisted. If he catches you, he gets to do whatever he wants with you.

Pairing: Dom! Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Possessive Joel, hide and seek, cat and mouse, Joel chases reader until he finds her, Jackson! Joel, outbreak! Joel, smut, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, cream pie, dirty talk

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The air is suffocating, the black walls are covered in regret and years of cigarette stench. The dim lights seem to shine down on you like a spotlight as you run as fast as you can through the lavish house. You can hear him calling you, stalking you in the dark shadows like a starving dog hunting to devour fresh meat.

“Can’t run from me forever, darlin’. You keep on runnin’, but I’ll eventually find you,” he chuckles as his deep voice reverberates around the echoing halls.

You cover your mouth, keeping your body down as you run run run past the expensive statues and monumental paintings of the abandoned mansion. Your throat is on fire the longer you run, your body aching like that of a dying man on his last breath of life. Your legs feel like they’ll give way at any second, but you have to keep going. You can’t give up. Not yet. Not when he’s right on your tail.

Tired. You’re so very tired, yet you keep running. Dragging your hollow body down the vine covered corridors of the wide hallways as you gasp for fresh air in your watered down lungs.

You fly around a narrow corridor and nearly trip yourself on a bed of dark green vines that bite at your ankles, threatening to take you down as Joel draws closer to you.

You can feel his overbearing presence, can taste the whiskey that bleeds inside his thick veins, can feel his large body already crowding yours as if he’s already caught you. He hasn’t caught you yet, but you know he will. He always catches you.

This was all a game. A dark, twisted game that started on a cold night in December. You remember the first time he chased you, the first time he tore through all your clothes the minute he captured you and devoured your entirety on that pitch black night. Now, every first Saturday of each month you’d meet him back at this abandoned mansion to play his little game. He called it hide and seek, you called it a deadly game of cat and mouse because you were the mouse, and cats always caught their prey.

It’s like you two are stuck in a never ending dance, two souls completely consumed in the other as you spin in circles until one of you collapses. You shouldn’t keep coming back, shouldn’t want to play his dark little games, but yet you come. Every single time, you come, unable to face the reality of a month without his touch, his taste, his growls. You’d let the man do as he wanted because how could you resist those charming, big brown eyes? You couldn’t, you just couldn’t. You were a moth drawn to a flame, and he was the brightest, most dangerous flame of all. Something you wanted to forever be branded by.

Joel Miller was a fucking menace of society, but he was your menace. So you’d continue the game until one of you stopped breathing.

“Where are you, little lamb?” he calls as your breath scorches the vine covered walls. You continue running, twisting around dark corners, running down stone steps, and hiding behind crimson curtains.

The next wooden door you come upon is locked tight. No amount of shaking the golden handle or hurling your body into the door will make it budge. You turn your head from side to side. The only way out is from the way you came. The hallway that he is in. Fuck.

You gulp down a silent breath and make a run for it, even though you know he’ll be there waiting like a prowling wolf.

You take careful steps down the marble hallway and sneak around the cold corner until you see his dark silhouette shining against the reflective flooring. You gasp as your eyes go wide, but before you can run he reaches out a long arm and clasps tightly to your wrist.

“There ya are, little lamb. Thought you’d get away from me this time?” he smirks as he wraps his calloused fingers tightly around you and tries to pull you in.

“Haven’t caught me just yet,” you laugh as you somehow manage to slip out of his grip and make a run for it.

You run down some slippery stone steps and end up at the back of the mansion with vine covered long corridors and twisting mazes of green bushes. You run as fast as you can as the wind sweeps through your long hair, letting the brisk wind set your adrenaline on fire.

You manage one glance back and see just how fast he’s creeping up on you. He’s like a lion running after a gazelle, the hunter about to attack the prey with its bare claws. And he will destroy his prey.

You take a few more steps, but then you feel a hand claw at your shoulder. He takes you down on the hard floor as you come crashing down to the pit of your doom. Pain radiates through your body, but you brush it off as you crawl forward, trying to escape the man that will take you as his own.

“Where do ya think you’re goin’, pretty thing?” he asks darkly as he wraps a hand around your ankle and tugs you in his direction. You hear a squeak escape your mouth like a trapped mouse that just got caught by a giant cat.

“I’m running away from you,” you answer back as you kick and try to squirm out of his reach.

He obviously has other plans because he drags you back underneath him and turns you flat on your back as he pins your hands above your head, his hips and large thighs caging you in so you can’t break free. He won this round, like he always did.

“Didn’t think I’d catch you so soon, little lamb,” he chuckles deeply as the weight of his body hangs over yours entirely.

“You just caught me off guard,” you sigh as you see his dark chocolate eyes honing in on yours. They’re so captivating, so damn pretty that you can’t look away. He’s so gorgeous even when you should find him intimidating.

“Now you’re mine,” he smirks as his chocolate eyes become darker, more blown out as he hovers his plush lips over yours. “Just what am I gonna do to you tonight, hmm?” he asks as lust fills the void of his dark eyes, making you squirm with anticipation already. You know what you want. You want him.

“Maybe I should be a little rough with you, hmm? That what you want?” he asks with the tick of his sculpted jaw, his thick eyebrow raising as he looks at you like he just won the most valuable prize in town.

You shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t be feeding his sick mind as he plays his dark games, but you can’t help it. You want it just as bad as he does. You want him to be rough with you.

You look at him with wide eyes and smirk right back at him, challenging his dominant side to give in. “So be rough with me,” you whisper back.

You see his dark eyes grow large with need as he huffs out through his nostrils. “Open,” he demands as he grabs a hold of your jaw and squeezes, just enough for your lips to part open slightly. He bends his head down and inhales deeply as he spits into your mouth as you feel the warm spit cover your tongue.

“Swallow,” he growls as you fully oblige. You close your mouth and swallow as you taste his spit slide down your throat. All hot and moist as you taste him in the back of your throat. And somehow you think it’s so goddamn hot.

“Good girl,” he praises as he shifts his weight down and starts unbuttoning your faded denim jeans.

“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl for me, right?” he asks as he starts to drag the denim down your legs, feeling a wave of slick slide down your lace panties as your adrenaline kicks in.

“Mhm,” you nod as you watch him strip your legs bare, next going to tear off your sticky pink t-shirt while he hovers over the fine lace of your bra, his calloused fingers circling your back as he slowly undoes the clasps.

“Gonna let me taste every inch of you, little lamb? Gonna let me fuck you till you can’t take anymore?” he asks as he undoes the last clap and slowly starts to slide the bra free, leaving your full breasts exposed to the chilly night air. The only thing left is your slick covered panties, and then you'll be completely bare.

“Yes,” you breathe as he cups your breasts and slides his tongue along the crook of your neck, all teeth and tongue as he nips and bites at your flesh.

You can’t help the burn, can’t help the absolute need that courses through your body as his weight encompasses your chest. His hot breath bleeds into your lungs and it’s as if you can breathe fresh air for the first time. His woodsy, whiskey scent makes you dizzy as he slides his wet tongue along your bottom lip as he hovers his weight above you. He’s like a wolf that comes to feed on you in the night, and you’ll gladly let him devour you whole.

He snakes his hand down your abdomen and slides his hand underneath your ruined panties as he presses his thumb in between your folds, collecting slick as you groan at the feel of him spreading you wide.

“Open up, darlin’. Wanna give you a taste,” he whispers. He slides his thumb in your mouth, and you press your tongue around it, tasting the sweet saltiness of your own arousal as you let it slide down your throat.

He opens his mouth and sucks the rest of the slick off as he moans at the taste of you in his system. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet, darlin’. Wanna just eat you up,” he groans as he hovers his lips back over yours, inching closer and closer until you’re practically begging him to drop down on your lips.

“Please,” you whine as your hands fist at his green flannel shirt, desperate for him to get closer to you.

“Please what?” he smirks as his dark eyes weigh into yours, pools of lust overflowing the edges as his pupils now expand into complete darkness. A predator about to eat his prey up entirely.

You have to use all your strength to get any words out, desperate for his touch. “Take me, all of me,” you plead as your eyes search his black pits that burn you alive.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m gonna take it all,” he smirks.

Before you have time to respond, he drops his lips on yours and fists your hair as he tugs hard and pries your lips apart as he slots in his wet tongue. He glides his tongue against yours and circles your mouth as you moan against him and drink his whiskey breath down.

He breaks apart from your mouth and nips playfully down your neck as he kneads your breasts together. His tongue comes down to circle each nipple, bringing them to life as they harden and pebble for him as you writhe underneath him in pleasure.

His experienced hands are everywhere, burning your skin alive as he skates his calloused fingers up and down your glistening body that’s now caked in sweat. He shoves your legs apart and slides the lace down your legs as he sits back and examines your entire naked body that’s on full display just for him. Glistening skin and slick coated folds splay out in front of him, and he looks like a mad man the way he’s looking at you.

His nostrils flare as his eyes grow wide, the big black pits scavenging your body as he drags a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper scruff as he groans out a heated response. “Goddamn, little lamb. You’re so fuckin’ wet and ready for me. I can hardly stand it,” he moans as he slides between your legs and pushes your thighs apart, his calloused fingers spreading your folds apart as he spits down in between them and starts running meticulously up and down your open folds as he starts circling your clit slowly.

You moan and writhe underneath his fingers, but he just presses a big hand to your stomach and holds you still as he works his fingers up and down your soaked pussy. And it feels so good that you want to crawl out of your own skin as the flames alight in your lower regions.

“Fuck,” you moan as he licks a thick strip from your dripping hole all the way to the top of your clit as his nose brushes against the coarse hair that sits above your clit. He inhales a large whiff of you as he groans and wraps his arms around your thighs as he holds you down against the cool ground.

“That’s right, little lamb. Gonna have you screamin’ my name by the time I get done with you,” he chuckles darkly as he dives back in.

His tongue devours you as he slides it up and down, drawing tight circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves as he sucks you deep into his mouth. He glides his middle and ring finger into your dripping hole and works them in and out as he curls up and hits your spongy walls again and again as his tongue feasts on your clit and his fingers go knuckle deep into your pussy.

Your eyes start to roll back as your head hits the hard floor, your body feeling like it’s floating on a cloud as hot heat starts to slide down the base of your spine. Close, you’re so close. Almost there.

He growls up at you as he demands your attention right now. “LOOK AT ME,” his voice echoes off the vine covered walls as his dominance sheds through the dim light of the hallway.

Your eyes snap up to find blown out dark pupils looking up at you as he sucks you in his mouth expertly. His nail beds dig into your thighs as one of his fists sit knuckle deep in your pussy. You’ve never seen him so wild, so much like a starving wolf that it makes more slick slide down his fingers as he pumps in and out of your drenched walls.

He pops your bundle of nerves out of his mouth as he gives you one more long lick as he growls up at you with pure dominance in his words. “Come for me, little lamb. Want ya to scream my name, tell me just who’s makin’ you feel good. Come on, darlin’. Show me how you break,” he smirks as he quickens the pace of his fingers and drops back on your clit as he circles circles circles until you’re seeing stars in your vision.

“Joel, I’m gonna… gonna,” you whine as you feel your orgasm start to break apart.

“Go on. Come for me. Be a good girl now and obey,” he growls as he pulls you back into his mouth while his fingers press up into the spongy walls as you feel yourself coming hard for him.

You clench up around his fingers and feel slick start to rain down his fingers onto your thighs as you throw your head back and scream his name as your moans echo through the long, dim lit corridor. Your body feels like white noise washing through it as your toes curl and your fingers slide through his tousled curls.

He groans as your fingers dig into his scalp while he licks up every inch of spilt slick in between your thighs. You feel your high start to come down as you take nice, deep breaths and focus on the buzzing in your ears.

Joel sits on his knees and views the mess that he made in between your legs as you splay across the floor with your legs still wide open for him. He must enjoy the view because he can’t keep his hungry eyes off you.

“Such a good girl, you know that? Now, gonna let me take ya all the way? Gonna let me fuck ya now, sweetheart?” he smirks as he starts unbuttoning his green flannel shirt, undoing the buttons quickly as he slides it off his thick arms and throws it in a heap next to the vine covered wall. His rock hard abs sit glistening in the night light while a happy trail of dark, coarse hair sits just above the waist of his jeans in a v shape. It makes you want to get on your hands and knees and crawl to him as you beg to have just a little taste of him.

“Yes, please. Fuck me,” you moan as you push your breasts together as your center feels on fire for him.

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck ya deep, little lamb,” he smirks as he knits his eyebrows together in concentration.

He unbuttons his dark jeans and threads the leather belt through his belt loops while he shoves his jeans and boxers down his legs while he stands and hovers over you with his hard cock hitting the base of his hairy stomach as the tip sits weeping and swollen, just waiting to get inside you.

You lick your lips together and stare at the swollen tip as saliva starts to coat your mouth. You can practically taste the salt on your tongue, can almost feel the precum sliding down your throat as you beg him for just one more taste. He looks so delicious, and you want to just eat him right up.

He smirks down at you as he sees you staring at his thick cock that screams your name. “Want a taste, little lamb?” he smirks as you nod your head mindlessly.

“Get over here then and do somethin’ ‘bout it,” he demands as he pulls you up by your hair and plants you on your knees in front of his large body.

“Go on then. Let me see how good you can choke on this cock, darlin’.” He flashes his pearly whites at you and wraps his fingers around your hair as you take your hand and start sliding it up and down as you spread the precum all over his thick length.

You lick the tip lightly and swirl around slowly as you tease him while your hand works up and down the base of him. “Fuck, there ya go,” he groans as you take him inside your mouth as you taste salty goodness drip down your throat. You take him deeper as you choke on him, feeling the drool coat his cock as you go back and forth on him slowly.

He grabs tighter to your hair and starts to fuck up into your mouth as you feel him bottom out at the base of your throat as it constricts around his thick length. You choke and gag around his length as he deep throats you over and over again. Your vision blurs as the tears lick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t care. You love when he chokes you out, when his cock is deep in your throat as you hear his stifled moans get caught in his throat the more your mouth deep throats him.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel growls as his thrusts become rougher and deeper, enough to where you’re gagging on your own drool as it coats your mouth as he slips deeper inside.

Before you think you can’t take anymore, he releases his cock from your mouth as a bead of drool connects from his tip to your lower lip as you choke for air with his fingers still firmly wrapped around your hair.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises as he releases you and shoves you back to the ground as your back his the cold floor. “Now spread those legs, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya nice and deep now,” he instructs as he spreads your legs and gets down on his knees. He throws your legs over his shoulders and lines his cock up with your folds as he slowly slides the tip up and down your folds as your spit on his cock collects with the messy slick in between your legs.

“Jus’ relax now, darlin’. Let me help fill this pretty pussy up,” he smiles as he shoves his cock through your folds and fills you up.

You gasp at the stretch, he’s so fucking big that you never quite get used to the stretch. There’s a tinge of pain, but mostly you’re so full of him that all you can focus on is how good he’s making you feel. He fucks up into you deeper as he bottoms out inside you over and over again.

His body hovers over you as his lips nip against your neck as he slides in and out of you faster faster faster as you start to feel wildlife burn through your whole body. He folds your legs in half like a pancake as he fucks deeper inside you, making your walls squeeze his large length tight as you get close to your second orgasm.

You study his appearance, focusing on his knit eyebrows that are sewn together in concentration as he loses himself in you entirely. Sweat sticks to his forehead as his curls stick together in the glistening sweat. His broad back is flexing and tightening around you as your nails claw his tan skin, making him moan into the shell of your ear as he licks against the edge of your ear with thick pants leaving his mouth.

You kiss along the edge of his jaw, nipping at his scruff as you moan his name eagerly into the base of his ear as he speeds up his thrusts, bottoming out again and again until you can’t take it anymore.

“Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m gonna come,” you pant out as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Let me feel ya,” he commands as he thrusts up inside once twice three more times until you’re squeezing his cock with your walls and pouring yourself all over him. You moan his name and scratch your nails down his back as he moans back in satisfaction.

“Oh, that’s a good girl,” he praises as he continues rutting up inside you until he’s choking for air with his own tongue.

“Christ, I’m gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna…” He doesn’t take long till he’s shooting thick ropes of come inside your walls as you feel warmth bubbling all inside you. He takes a minute to let it all out, releasing all his spend inside you as you breathe in his whiskey coated scent.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart. Can’t get enough of that sweet pussy,” he groans as he pulls his cock out of you and lets his spend slide down your milky thighs.

He collapses onto his back and pulls you into his side as you wrap a leg around his waist and inch your head up to the crook of his neck as your arm wraps around his broad chest.

“Some game, huh?” you pant as your exhausted body splays over the entirety of him.

“Some game,” he agrees as he rakes his fingers through your messy hair and kisses the top of your forehead as you relax all your weight into him.

“Think there’s ever gonna be a day where you won’t catch me?” you ask curiously as he smiles down and shakes his head at you.

“No, sweetheart. I’m always gonna catch you. Even if I have to run a couple miles to get to you. I’ll always catch you, my pretty girl.”

You smile as he pulls you tight against his body, and you spend the rest of the night just lying on the floor in the abandoned mansion where this all started in the first place. A twisted game that ended in two lovers running back to each other again and again.

Maybe some games aren’t meant to be played, but this one was specifically made for you and Joel. The cat and the mouse who started off running away from each other, but it ended with both of you falling apart together.

Tagging some mutuals who might want to read🩷 @milla-frenchy @vividispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @jasminedragoon @morallyinept @mountainsandmayhem @dugiioh @pedrostories @syd-djarin @laurrrra @joelmillersblog @joelmillerisapunk @amyispxnk @msjarvis @lotusbxtch @untamedheart81 @littlemisspascal

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brittle-doughie · 8 months

Note

ive said this like twice before but ill say it again ... THANK YOU ,,, im glad you think he's cool 🥺 have a little happi benign butter cookie as a thanks 🫶

also i think i might have a problem . i recently got diagnosed with SMCD (Shadow Milk Cookie Disorder) and apprently it makes you think about him . 😢 he got me cooking up a whole sketch (i might refine it but im not sure if i have the time and patience to ^_^;;;;;;;;;;)

silly evil jester has got me HEHEHEHHEHEHE and all, unfortunately 😞

Your art, even as a sketch is looking pretty nice too! Keep up the good work with your skills! I’m still flabbergasted whenever someone draws my writings, wowie.

“A tough decision indeed! And only one chance to use the Guardian’s power right. What will it be? Let’s wait and see!”

You yelled at him to let them all go! Shadow Milk’s business was with you, not them!

“What’s the matter, my dear Butter~? Do you hold these cookies dear? Are they speeeecial~?”

You told him to not call you that…Y/N Cookie was your nam-

“WRONG! That’s the name these PESTS gave you! All that time with them…it makes me want to free their heads off their shoulders already!”

“Don’t!”

“As for you! What makes YOU believe that what you have with my beloved Butter is even comparable to what I have for them! What my comrades have for them!”

“For as long as I can remember, I have been the one to make them smile and laugh! Not you….ME! We were practicing stuck together like GLUE!”

“Then those CURSED WITCHES decided to lock me and the others away, by BRAINWASHING my Benign Butter Cookie into doing their bidding!”

“I had to watch as that LIAR Pure Vanilla Cookie become the best of pals with them, getting chummy and close. It made me want to escape that tree faster and destroy him! But my rage wouldn’t be comparable to another comrade of mine…she was just DYING to get out.”

“But now that I’m here, I can FINALLY reunite with them. They won’t need YOU or those other half cookies anymore…they’ll only need us…”

You stepped up…you told him that he’s lost it, he’s insane if he thinks you’ll ever go back to him or the others….

“Fine, I’ll confess…I may be a little obsessed and insane, but it’s all for you, my Butter wutter~ Don’t worry about your friend, she’ll be making her exit now~”

If he thought he’ll get away with this, then think again!

“Y/N Cookie….”

“I’ll be right there with you…”

“HANDS OFF MY BENIGN BUTTER COOKIE, PEST!”

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie #yandere shadow milk cookie #white lily cookie x reader

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sinofwriting · 7 months

Text

Please, Oh Please - Max Verstappen (Part Two)

Words: 1,049 Summary: A direct continuation of Please, Oh Please that shows a few domestic moments between Max and her. Note(s): Just want to thank LB on ko-fi for this. They commissioned me to write this and I had such a fun time doing so.

Read Part One Here | Masterlist | Support Me!

“You came over.” He watches as she yawns, eyes just barely opening for the first time this morning. “I came over.” The words are a mumble, not helped by the way she closes her eyes again and snuggles up to him. “You never come over.” She makes a humming noise and he nearly jolts at the way it tickles him. “Missed you. Apartment smells kind of like you. Missed you.” He holds her closer, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I missed you too.” “Yeah?” “Always, Schat. Always.”

The room goes quiet between them with only the sound of their breathing filling it, and Max can’t help but want this forever. It’s not a new want, hasn’t been for weeks, months, but it hits him again, all at once.

“I want you to move in.” His voice is quiet, just barely breaking the silence in the room. Her breathing stills. “What?” “I want you to stay here, to live here.” He turns his head a little to look at her, to look at those eyes that he loves. “I love you.” Her eyes widened. “I love you.” He repeats. “And I want to take care of you, to come home to you, to come back home with you.” “Max,” Her voice breaks. “Please?” He sits up a bit, making it easier for them to look at each other. “You have no idea what it meant to me last night. To come home and see that you have been here, to see you in bed, sleeping, waiting for me.” “Max.” She says again, stopping him as she sits up and her hands are framing his face. “I know how much it means.” Her dominant hand’s thumb strokes over his cheekbone. “I love you. I want to live here with you. To be here when you come home.” Her smile gentle and proud, turns a little bashful. “I want you to take care of me.”

—

Max fears the day that he grows used to this. Grows used to waking up with her in his arms, in his bed, or rather in bed with him considering the amount of traveling they do. It’s been five months since he came home to her, since he asked her to move in, to stay with him, five months since she said yes and he’s still getting used to it. Getting used to having her how he wants, how he had dreamed.

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice thick from sleep breaks him out of his thoughts. “You.” She immediately presses her head into his chest, making him laugh. “Shut up.” She mumbles. “Okay.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Wait.” He nearly laughs at the predictability of it. It's always went like this, he’d fluster her, she’d tell him to be quiet or to shut up, he’d say okay, and immediately she’d say wait, or don’t.

“I have the tournament tomorrow. I won’t be able to go shopping with you tomorrow.” She huffs out a laugh, lifting her head up. “I can go by myself, it’s only one or two bags.” “They’ll be heavy.” “It’s groceries, lovey. I can carry two bags of groceries.” He pouts, “Why don’t we go today?” “Because you promised me a whole day, just you and me, in the apartment, lazing about.” Max sighs, because he had promised that, even if it was normally how they spent their days together, they did have a trip with her friends planned in a few days and immediately after they’d be going to see his sister. Which meant for a solid week they wouldn’t really have time for just the two of them. “Will you at least take a car?” Her nose wrinkles but she nods. “I’ll take a car.”

—

“You have to stop leaving me your card.” “Card? What card?” He asks, waving at GP to go ahead of him. “Max.” She draws out his name a bit. “You know what card. It’s the card you think you're being sneaky about when you leave me with it.” He leans against the wall. “Oh, that card.” “Mhmm. That card.” “What about it?” “What about,” she stops, spluttering. “Max, I don’t need your black card.” “What if something happens?” “I’m getting on a flight to you in less than ten hours. You left just last night.” He shrugs, smiling as he adjusts the phone against his ear. “What if you want something?” “I’ll use the card that you gave to me, that’s in my name. Not your black card. Which you really shouldn’t be giving to people.” “I don’t give it to people, I give it to you.” His voice softens a bit on the last word. She sighs, “That’s very sweet, lovey.” “Mhmm.” “Still not using it.”

—

She grins up at him, whole face alight with excitement. “Hi race winner.” She greets, arms tightening a bit around him as mechanics and such move around the garage. “Hi liefje.” His arms wrap around her in turn, tucking her into him. “I’m so proud of you.” She murmurs against his chest covered by sweat soaked nomex. “So proud.” He rocks them a bit as he presses his lips to her hair. “Yeah?” “Of course.”

She pulls away a bit, mouth opening, and he knows that it’s to tell him to go shower quickly, before he really starts to smell, champagne and sweat unsurprisingly not making a good scent, but before she can, he presses their lips together. Interrupting their normal routine.

Her body tenses against his for a second, before it relaxes. The feeling makes him sigh, and one of his hands moves to cradle her face as the other grabs at her waist a little tighter, keeping her pressed against him.

“I love you so much.” He breathes when they pull apart. “I love you too.” Her soft, gentle smile turns a little playful as soon as she finishes the sentence. “Now go and take a shower, I have a private celebration for you.” His eyebrows raise, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Something I’ll like?” “Something you’ll love.” The promise makes it a bit hard to swallow and he’s quick to press another kiss to her lips. “Thirty minutes and we’ll be gone, yeah?” “Sounds perfect.”

@cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sins fics

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thefemmeeros · 2 months

Text

gift-wrapped for them

MEN AND MINORS DNI

summary: it’s your butch’s best friend’s birthday… and you’re their present. or— you get shared and fucked by two butch cocks and really, really enjoy it.

cw throat fucking, t1t fucking, some spanking, some demeaning-ing. calling butch daddy. calling butch sir.

hope you pervs love it and let me know what else you want me to write, missed u all a lot

///—//—//—//—///

the laundry fresh smell of these sheets is familiar. you nestle into them, wanting to reach out and grab your bolster — but you quickly feel the resistance of some silky fabric. your hands are bound in front of you.

“look at that. the princess is awake.”

your head hurts. the last thing you remember is saying goodbye at your butch, charlie’s best friend’s blowout birthday party last night. you’d given the birthday butch, jack, a lingering hug and a kiss on the cheek. she’d responded with a wink, just as charlie elatedly exclaimed a promise that she’d just love her gift, which jack would receive soon. you knocked out pretty quickly once you got home— you were a notorious lightweight.

which explains the trouble you have now opening your eyes, your hazy mind characteristic of one of your hangovers.

“charlie honey?” you slur, forcing your eyelids apart. you’re sure this is one of their kinky little games, something they’re wont to do and something you often gladly partake in. “i’m stuck,” you whine, sleepy but willing to play along.

the lights in your bedroom are dim. it’s still dark out. and the sight before you leaves breathless and afraid.

two figures stand before you, shirtless, hard packing in their boxers.

“happy birthday, jackie-boy,” says your butch, folding their arms over their chest.

“charlie?” you say with more urgency now, straining against your restraints—you see now that it’s a red, silk ribbon, tied into a bow. “charlie, what’s happening?”

you ignore the heat pooling between your legs at the duo’s ravenous stares as you wiggle on the bed, raising yourself to a kneel on the mattress.

flashing through your mind like a twisted, horny supercut are all the conversations you’ve had with charlie about your desire to be passed around, their enthusiastic reciprocity, your affection for their best friend—the pieces are all there, but is what you think is about to be done to you actually going to be done?

charlie casts you a meaningful look, their gaze softening, but in the subtlest of ways only you can see. they’re so handsome, baring their top surgery scars as they bend down to get on your level, eyes brown pools of ruthless power that, in an instant, tell you how badly they want to hurt you, break you. and it makes you so fucking wet.

“you remember your safe word, princess?” they whisper low, stroking your hair out of your face. your bit lip and sparking eyes and shaky breath give away the game—you’re not afraid, you’re dying for this. charlie sees that. charlie sees your deviance, sees past the white lace and bashful smiles, and draws out the wild woman. charlie asks you to take because they give you faith they’ll keep giving.

being shared, it’s one of your most dirty, secret fantasies—one you’ve never gotten to live out. in taking the control from you, in tying you up like a gift-wrapped femme for their buddy in your unconscious state, they’re telling you, with so much tenderness, there’s no amount of shame too great, no wall you could build too robust to keep them from making you feel good.

you nod, whisper, “i remember.”

you wonder if there’s still traces of alcohol in your breath, if your eye makeup is still intact or smeared already, if your defenceless, disheveled state is turning them on even more.

charlie kisses you, soft and sweet, and you sigh. “this is the last nice thing i’ll say to you tonight, princess. i know you’re gonna be wonderful. i won’t push you past what you can take, and we’ll stop whenever you need to. if you need to safe out and your mouth is stuffed—“

you clench around nothing. oh god.

“—you tap either of us three times. got it?”

you murmur your okay, baby and quickly regret it when they grab your chin, pinch your cheeks with a warning glare. “that’s not what you call me, is it babygirl?”

“no, Daddy. i got it, Daddy. three taps, Daddy,” you make out through their unyielding grasp. they nod, satisfied.

you want them to use you so bad. you want them to get to it already. you don’t need the song and dance. your eyes flick to jack, who’s staring blatantly at your breasts, palming what appears to be an 8-incher straining in her grey boxers.

charlie and jack have always have been the best of friends long before your relationship with charlie began. you knew they had a fling way back in the day, a b-girl for b-girl test that led to them both realising they were stone—but you’d never guess they’d want to share a girl. you’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about it though. they were both big, immense hunks of butches, your type to a tee— charlie with their broad shoulders, jack with those soft thighs and wide midsection, a wall blotting out the light.

“i’m still your Daddy, but tonight, jackie is your Sir. nod if you understand.”

you nod, your gut burning, your skin tingling.

“we’re going to use your holes to get ourselves off, how we want. however we want.” the emphasis makes you shudder. “you come when i say you can. you speak only when spoken to. and your tears won’t make us stop.”

are you doing a good enough job looking scared? you don’t think you are. you’re having to fight a tawdry smile and a drawled out “promise?” that’s dancing on the tip of your tongue.

then charlie says the words you didn’t even know you needed to hear, but the moment they say them, you feel the last cog click into place, a tether that grounds you to the certainty that you’re going to be okay. they grip your chin, and they say to you, “i’m sharing you. i’m in charge here. jack is fucking you because i said she can. because i own your pussy. i own this pussy.” they grab your warm, wet sex through your barely-there sleep shorts for good measure.

you knew, but the solid reminder that your Daddy is in control; now you’re safe and ready.

charlie draws back up to their full height. “c’mere jackie. come touch our fuckdoll.”

“say less,” murmurs the brown-skinned butch, a notorious player from whom sensuality emanates in dizzying, irresistible waves. she licks her lips as she caresses your cheek, before placing her thumb into your mouth.

you don’t even realise how eagerly you’re sucking till charlie tweaks your nipple and makes you gasp, releasing jack’s finger with a pop. “jesus,” jack murmurs, “you gonna suck our cocks like that? all desperate like that?”

“yes, Sir,” you moan around her thumb, charlie kneeling to your right and playing with your nipples through your tiny white singlet.

“i wanna see her tits,” jack turns to charlie, removing and replacing her thumb with her index and middle finger, coaxing herself deeper into your mouth. “wanna see them while she blows us.”

that she’s not paying attention to you is driving you mad. it’s so unspeakably disrespectful, and so rude, and so fucking hot you feel like you’re getting driven to the edge of something blissful and dangerous.

charlie pulls the thin cotton singlet down past your tits, ripping one of the straps with little effort so they wouldn’t have to untie you. they slap one, growling low before catching a nipple between their teeth and making you cry out, and jack’s fingers don’t let up, prepping your mouth for what’s to come.

“get on the floor. on your knees.”

“yes Daddy.”

they mercifully help you off the bed, the hangover and horniness and sleepiness making you weak in the knees, and settle you onto a pillow—tits hanging out, inner thighs wet with need.

standing, looming over you, leering at you, they stroke themselves through their boxers.

“you want these cocks?”

“yes, Sir! i want them so bad. Sir.” you cry out pathetically, your resolve weakening. both of them chuckle at you, and it’s mean and it’s sexy and the way charlie looks at you with so much love and so much reverence, all of it is pushing you, pushing you.

“open your slut mouth.”

you open.

you once told charlie how you find it hot when they pull their boxers down all the way until only the tip of their butch cock remains sheathed, before releasing all of it and letting it bounce free. they both do this now, teasing you with the sight of their members— charlie’s skin-coloured and curved just how you like it, jack’s jet black and perpendicular to the floor, imposing and maddening with ridges that make you drool.

and they’re both squirting dildos, you note with great pleasure.

“tongue out, princess,” charlie murmurs.

mouth open, tongue out, on your knees before these two butches as they jerk themselves off, you do not wonder if you are broken or wrong for wanting this. you do not feel shy or ashamed anymore. they take that from you, and you just want.

charlie’s cock brushes your cheek, taps on the tip of your tongue, but you’re smart enough not to close your mouth around it quite yet. jack’s joins, both their cocks prodding at your lips and tongue and cheek as your two tormentors breath deeply.

“jack first,” charlie orders. “suck.”

having drooled all over their cocks already, taking the first few inches of jack’s thickness is manageable. but when she moans and grips your hair, shoving you down deeper onto it, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. jack is not like charlie—is not your Daddy, does not want to praise you, or be gentle. jack is exacting.

a perfect Sir.

you relax your throat and look up at her and she moves you up and down on her cock, huffing and groaning with each stroke. “i love fucking that cute little mouth,” she grinds out, “that teasing little mouth.”

she pulls you off her cock with a pop and you gasp in your breath, just in time for charlie’s cock to replace it. this familiar silicone, the memories wash over you and tighten your core more. charlie doesn’t grab your hair to start. no, they let you struggle to handle it with no hands to assist you. they watch you swirl your tongue over the tip and spit on it and stretch your lips around it till they feel you’ve done enough.

your reward is them holding your face and fucking your throat. “look at your Daddy,” they command breathlessly, locking eyes with you and trembling. “look at me while I come down that throat. fuck, watch me empty my fucking — load — goddamn—“

they thrust so deep your eyes roll back and you feel their warm cum on the back of your throat and somehow you swallow around their thick length, swallow them down so good.

“fuck, now i wanna blow my load in her whore mouth too.” jack chuckles. she’d been stroking herself as she watched them, fisting her cock. “but nah, i think i’ll cum in that tight pussy.”

“yes, please Sir,” you can’t help but say.

they don’t let you move, still looming over you with their huge cocks right by your lips.

“Sir,” charlie says simply, so you suck jack.

“now me,” charlie says, so you suck them.

back and forth they make you bounce between the cocks, till you’re panting, the sensation of two different cocks in your mouth overwhelming and the exercise so deeply demeaning. they’re chuckling at you, prodding your lips with their cocks, calling you a cockdrunk slut—and you can’t get enough.

when they’re satisfied, Daddy helps you up and lays you on the bed with your head hanging off one edge and your legs wide open.

when you see the thick black cock, you know it’s Sir who’s settled behind you. you figure she’ll use your throat, but as Daddy lines themself up against your pussy, you feel a cold splatter of lube on your chest.

“gonna fuck her tits?” Daddy asks, amused as they slide in. fuck, it’s like you really are a toy. they use your holes so casually. “good choice.”

you’re so wet and ready that with the added lube, Daddy slides in to the hilt easily, buries themself deep with a groan that vibrates through your being. “gotta stretch our doll’s pussy for jackie-boy,” Daddy says, grabbing your hips and slamming in hard and deep.

meanwhile, Sir’s squeezing and plucking at your nipples with one hand, stroking herself with the other. “gonna fuck these pretty tits now.”

you stare at the space between her legs as she squeezes your tits together and slides between them with a holy shit that’s hot, pinching and toying with your nipples as she thrusts. combined with the sensation of Daddy’s thrusts, you are slipping into a space where you really do believe you’re just a toy, you feel limp and helpless and fuzzy and gone, yet deeply present, each brush of Daddy’s cock on your g-spot making you scream, each rough pinch of your nipple and slide against your cleavage heightened.

“my turn, charlie. i wanna cum. i’m close. but i want it inside. i’ll come on her tits the next time.”

the next time, the next time.

“it’s your gift, jack,” Daddy shrugs, “she’s all stretched for you now.”

shuffling and rearranging. your Daddy lifts your head, and kisses your chin. “good girl,” they whisper, “you’re making Daddy look so good because they have such a well-behaved babygirl.”

pride is warm and sweet. Daddy’s shine is like the Sun’s radiance. you’re happy you’re so well-behaved today.

“on her knees,” commands Sir. “i wanna see how that ass shakes when i slap it.”

Daddy unties you and helps you onto all fours. then a thwak! as Sir spanks your right cheek and another when she spanks your left. you cry out, jerk forward but Daddy holds you there, their eyes trained on the arch of your back and the way your needy ass is sticking out, hungry for their buddy’s cock.

then they’re both slamming into you, Sir’s cock stretching you and Daddy’s cock nestled back into your throat. and each of Sir’s thrusts pushes you deeper onto Daddy’s cock. and each time you choke on Daddy, you squeeze around Sir.

“fuck, look at our girl,” jack moans, reaching forward and gripping a fistful of your hair. “so stuffed. the perfect fucking cockslut.”

with Sir’s expert thrusts and her guiding you on and off Daddy’s cock, your only job is to take their cocks, take them as best as you can. so you set yourself free, you fall off the edge, and you let go.

they let go in kind, slamming into you with newfound ferocity. then jack touches your clit and you’re two seconds from coming. you’re so close. you’re so fucking close.

“that’s right, baby,” Daddy says, because they know. they always know. “you can cum. cum around our cocks.”

“fuck, if she cums, i’m gonna—“

your elbows buckle but Daddy holds you and you scream, you scream around them, an orgasm ripping through every molecule in your body, exploding you till there’s nothing left.

then Sir is coming, emptying her warm load deep into your pussy, and Daddy’s coming too, hips jerking and shaking, and all three of you are a writhing, shaking mass of pleasure and electricity.

when they pull out, groaning and breathing hard, you’re empty and full all at once. you collapse onto your tummy, still trembling slightly, nerve-endings still firing uselessly.

“good job, princess,” murmurs your Daddy. “you did good.”

“but we’re not done with you yet.” Sir swats your ass playfully and grabs a handful.

you smile, and whisper, “promise?”

#dirty dita #dita writes #butch #femme #butch4femme #wlw #lesbian #lesbian smut #femme4butch #butchfemme #butch bait #femme bait #butch daddy

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the-quackity-competition · 1 month

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We all know Quackity, fattest ass in the cabinet, quadruple engagey, and “Are we in character? I’m in love with Wilbur” HQ

So, how about we hold a little friendly competition between the different ships in the dsmp fandom?

Aim of the game is to get your ship the most points, through creating content for that ship. Here’s the spreadsheet to track points.

Rules:

Creations may come in the form of art or writing, each of which is worth 1 point

People are allowed to submit more than one piece, actually it’s encouraged :3

The ship must be tagged

You must @ this blog

If you’re being genuinely mean you are getting blocked and anything you make will not count, Ls to all assholes

There is no sign up, just @ this blog and have fun!

Q&A

How long will this event last?

All of September

What if I want to do multiple ships in the same piece?

Be sure to tag all the ships and they’ll count as a point to each ship! (So the Karlnapity shippers don’t lose only bc of half points)

Does the ship have to be canon? Only dsmp?

Nahhhhh have fun do whatever you want. If you do Foolish x Quackity or Roier x Quackity, for example, they’d get their own rows and get a point

What about comics? Poems?

For the sake of my sanity, a comic only counts as 1 piece, even if it has 100 panels. Same for a collection of poems.

How will we know points?

I’ll have a little spreadsheet you’ll be able to see here in the pinned post

What about nsfw stuff?

it’s allowed as long as it’s tagged with community labels or #nsft, if you don’t tag it you are getting blocked

My friend really likes this Quackity ship. Can I give them this as a gift and also have it counted for a point?

Yes! But do not mix giving events together with this competition, to make it easier on me. I do not know if the event organizer of whatever your event you’re doing is comfortable with that, so best not to do it at all. You can still participate in other events, obviously, but please do not tag me to get it counted when it’s for a different event

Are sketches half points?

nope, every drawing is one full point! No matter how detailed or how simple. This keeps the competition a little more silly goofy, like I’d like it to stay. This is very much intended for fun, not a serious competition

You’re welcome to send asks to ask more questions!

#Quackity #dsmp #Qsmp #I’m not tagging all that #fandom competition #yes this is last minute I kept forgetting whoopsie

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miintsprigz · 8 months

Note

Hi again!! Was wonderin if ya could do some hcs of Scout, Pyro, Sniper, Engi, and Medic with a reader who loves to give and show them drawings they made, but gets pretty nervous when they watch them draw? If this isn't exactly yer cuppa tea or you just genuinely do not know how to write this, feel free to just ignore this request:]

Hope you have an excellent day/night/evening/afternoon/noon!!>:DD

Ah, I think I recognize you there! Good to hear from you again. I’ll give it a shot!

GN! Shy Artist Reader x Mercs

Characters: Scout, Pyro, Sniper, Engineer, Medic (TF2)

Warnings: None

Scout ⚾️

• The two of you tend to draw while you hang out, just chatting in the meantime.

• He absolutely adored your work, and loved watching you make it.

• But when you pulled your sketchbook to your chest quick, he seemed confused.

• “Hey! You good?” “Yeah, I uh…I just feel weird when you’re watching me draw.” “Huh? You don’t gotta feel embarrassed, doll!”

• “…You know when you tried to pull off a jump while Spy and Demo were watching the other day…” At this reminder, Scout gave you a teasing scowl—not genuinely mad, just embarrassed remembering that.

• “Ah geez—yeah, if they hadn’t spooked me by starin’ at me like a buncha creeps—oh.” “You get it now?”

• He got…a little confused. “Am I makin’ it worse? Aw man, I’m sorry—” “No, no! I just—that awkwardness? Yeah.” “Ohhh, I think I gotcha…”

•Scout, uh, scooted over on the bed a little and eventually sat back down with his back against yours. “There. This’ll fix it!” Both of you erupted into laughter.

•In all seriousness though, he respected your wishes. He keeps everything you make for him in his room, aside from a small doodle or two that he carries on him to work at all times…awww.

Pyro 🔥

•You and Pyro lay sprawled on the floor, with a can of colored pencils and a box of crayons respectively.

•They’re actually quite good when it comes to color, pairing different hues together. It’s hard to tell exactly what they’re drawing, but sometimes you can faintly make it out.

•You suddenly felt eyes very intently locked onto you and jerked your head up.

• “Hm??”, came through the mask, muffled. “Uh…could you um…”

•They did that curious little head tilt, tenderly reaching for your hand. If you needed to tell them something, they wanted to make sure they heard it!

• “I feel nervous when you watch me draw. I know it’s silly, but—” “Ah!” Genuine surprise from the masked figure. They’d had no idea.

•Immediately, there were muffled apologies from under the mask, quickly hugging you. “Hey hey, it’s okay! I’m not mad. I just figured I should tell you. You’re okay, Py.”

• “Mmph?” “Yes, dear. I promise.” Giggling a little now, they pulled their free hand over the eyeholes of the mask like a visor, blocking you from view. You chuckled along with them.

•Later on, as the two of you shared drawings, you made out a familiar visage—that of you, with a couple bright red hearts drawn nearby. “Hehe, I love you too.”

Sniper 🏹

• Mick didn’t often watch you draw, honestly. The two of you tended to do your own thing in the same space, talking occasionally. Even that was enough.

• Once you caught him watching on what was kind of an off day though. You kind of just stared back up at him.

• Sniper cocked an eyebrow. “Why’d ya stop?” Biting the inside of your cheek, you looked off to the side.

• You felt the bed next to you sink down a little as he moved closer. “Hey. Ya got somethin’ ya wanna say?” His voice was softer, more cautious. “…cuz ya know, I’d like to hear that.”

• Shuffling a bit to get more comfortable next to him, you sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it, but…I feel weird when people watch me draw.” “Yeah?”

• You nodded. “Kinda see what ya mean, I guess. Ya think they’ll judge the work-in-progress?” You silently agreed.

• A slight smile brightened his features. “Well, dunno if it helps, but I know a lil better, love.” His shoulder brushed against yours as you moved a bit closer.

• “I love everythin’ you make. And I know that you know what yer doin. But…if you’re more comfortable with me not lookin’, I get that too. That’s fine.”

• He went to move away, but you quickly clasped his shoulder softly, indicating that he could stay. “Maybe, I could try to keep going?” A laugh broke through as you admitted, “Besides, I like sitting next to you.”

• Humming contently, the Aussie planted the briefest of kisses on the top of your head. “Arright, darlin. You just lemme know.”

• As you kept working on that page, you did notice when he was watching, and it wasn’t easy, but after that he would have periods of staring off into space instead.

• There was a conciseness to it. He’d taken what you’d said to heart. Still, though, he seemed happy…and you were, too.

Engineer 🔧

• Dell had gathered quite a collection of your art by now, kept it on the wall of his workshop. He showed it off proudly to anyone who happened to enter, even if visitors tended to be few and far between.

• One night, you kept him company as he worked overtime on a new design for a model. While he worked, you did too.

• After a while though, you could tell someone was looking at you. As your gaze lifted, you caught him sneaking a peek from his desk, right next to the table where you sat.

• “Aw, did I break yer focus there? Sorry, honey.” “No no, it’s okay, Engie…I could put it away for now anyway, if you want something—”

• “No problem, (Y/N)! You can keep right on with that if ya like.” A somewhat sheepish smile came to your face.

“Hey, Engie…can you keep a secret?”

• “Mmm?” “…I get sorta nervous when people watch me draw.” A knowing sort of smile slowly crossed the Texan’s face, sliding his goggles up to rest on his forehead for a moment.

• “You wanna know a secret?”

“Hmm?”

A nostalgic sort of thoughtfulness crept into his voice. “I used ta be the same way.”

• “Really?” You never pictured the mellow, easygoing Engineer to ever be self-conscious in that way.

“Yup.”

• “People would ask me all sorts a’ questions while they watched me build. ‘How ya gonna make that work?’ ‘What’s that do?’ ‘Why’d ya put that there?’ Drove me crazy. Part of the reason I got a shop, I s’pose.”

• He held a spare nut and bolt, twisting them together and apart as he talked, somewhat absentmindedly. Eyes wandering a bit, but always making their way back to you.

• “But here’s somethin’ I think you oughta hear, although I’d never try ta make ya change. Your work is yours, darlin’. Yours and yours alone. Ya make such beautiful things. I’m not askin’ myself what you’re doin’ when I watch, cuz I already know.”

• He put the fidget aside and reached for your hand with a sweet smile. “Why do you like to watch me work?”

• You could feel your face redden just a bit, and grinned at the floor for a moment. He chuckled at this, in a lighthearted way though. “Cuz it’s really cool how you make everything work, and how smart you are with your designs.”

• “Yep. That’s why I like watchin’ you work. Own the process, (Y/N). It’s all yours. You know exactly what you’re doin.”

• “Thanks, Dell.” “Of course, honey. Of course.” From that moment onward, it seemed like he tried not to watch for too long, but when he did, you remembered his words. And it didn’t feel quite as nerve-wracking then.

Medic 💉

• Medic absolutely loved to watch you draw. It was fascinating to him. Seeing how giddy he got, it took you a while to work up the guts to tell him.

• “Is something wrong, Liebe? You’ve been stopped for a while now.”

“Yeah, uh…Medic, I wanna tell you something, but it’s weird.”

“Oh?”

• “I uh…I feel kinda…nervous, I guess? When people watch me draw.”

“…might I ask why?” He seems genuinely perplexed by this. “I think it’s fascinating.”

• Yeah, yeah he would. You weren’t sure how to explain this to him—you knew for sure that he didn’t mind when people watched him at work, he operated on fully conscious people!

• You sighed softly, unsure of how to make this make sense to him. A hand rested on your shoulder for a moment. “(Y/N), I can see this means a lot to you. And as much as I love watching you at work…I love you even more. So I’ll stop doing that.”

A smile crept up on you, glancing back up at him.

“I appreciate it a lot, love. Sorry I can’t put it into words.”

“No need to be sorry! But…I do have one request.”

“Yeah?”

• A sheepish sort of smile came to the doctor’s face. “I can…still see the finished product, right? And maybe, instead of me watching, you could tell me how you put everything together?”

“Of course! No problem.”

“Ah, wunderbar!”

I’ve been very tired lately so I’m sorry this took me so long, and that it’s sorta short/repetitive. I appreciate your patience!

#tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 scout #scout tf2 #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 pyro #pyro tf2 #tf2 pyro x reader #tf2 sniper #sniper x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 engineer #engineer tf2 #tf2 engineer x reader #tf2 medic #medic tf2 #tf2 medic x reader

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kkurami · 8 months

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( PASILYO ! ) 🌷 ² ˚ ༘ fluff

୨୧ ‧ megumi kept a plethora of secrets close to his heart, some of which were contained within his eraser.

in the hushed world of rustling papers and whispered secrets, fushiguro megumi found solace in the dance of sunlight streaming through the classroom windows. as they settled into a seat towards the back, the aura of anticipation hung thick, mingling with the delicate notes of uncertainty.

“hey megumi, can i borrow your eraser?”

unfortunately, his peace was sharply broken by his beloved seat partner.

the question was a simple one, yet it caused sweat to precipitate from his forehead.

after all, amongst the gallery of faces megumi saw daily, one stood as a portrait of remembrance—y/n l/n. her presence, a bright sonnet in the midst of cacophony, captivated megumi’s gaze. he wasn’t quite what it was about her, but perhaps it was her alluring personality that seemed to draw everyone in, or the sweet tone of her voice, maybe even the way her kindness shone down on even the worst people. a shining silhouette against the mundane backdrop of his life, y/n’s eyes held a secret language that beckoned megumi deeper and deeper into her being.

“i… don’t have an eraser…” megumi muttered under his breath, hoping y/n would just shrug her shoulders and ask someone else.

but in all his years of being infatuated with knowing her, megumi knew that she was often unrelenting.

“oh, come on! i can see it right there.” she giggled underneath her hand, her other perfectly polished finger pointed towards the eraser that sat on megumi’s desk. “why don’t you want me to borrow it?”

“it’s not that- i just, um, well…”

megumi couldn’t tell her the real reason, he would never live it down. but what other reason was there to tell? what reason could he come up with for not wanting to let her borrow an eraser- the most insignificant of utensils?

the typically stoic boy felt a thunder within his heart as he gazed upon the item of his affection. as his eyes stayed trained on her ethereal figure, megumi felt his lips twitch upwards. he wanted to tell her the deep emotions that swirled inside his soul, the ones he had buried for so long. but he couldn’t. for he was too much of a coward to be vulnerable with others.

“yes?” y/n inquired, raising an eyebrow on anticipation.

ever so nosy as always.

but that was one feature that megumi adored.

she was so precious to him, after all.

“um,” megumi paused as he racked his brain for excuses, “i-it doesn’t work. i’ll get you a different one.”

before y/n could respond, megumi had run out the door to get to his locker.

she was so precious to him that megumi would do anything to keep their sacred bond.

“why did megumi just run outside of the classroom?” miwa’s voice rang through y/n’s ears as she approached her friend from her posterior side.

a smile creeped up her face in pure adoration. “he’s getting me an eraser! the one on his desk doesn’t work.”

miwa let out a chortle in disbelief- was her friend that oblivious? “it’s an eraser, y/n. of course it works!”

the blue haired girl’s hands reached out to take the eraser that laid on megumi’s desk, despite y/n’s protests of invading his privacy, and rubbed it against the pencil stains on her paper. sure enough, the restored whiteness revealed that the eraser in fact did work.

“see!” miwa said, proving her point.

the confused girl stood in the midst of swirling thoughts, her eyes reflecting uncertainty, lost in a labyrinth of confusion as she tried to make sense of the tangled emotions within. “but… why did he lie about it to me?”

it seemed as though a puzzle piece clicked within her brain, as miwa let out a girly giggle. “you know, there’s an old myth that if you write your crush’s name on an eraser and you use the whole thing then they’ll reciprocate your feelings! it was in that one show, ‘teasing master takagi san’!”

within the sacred space of learning, where whispers of knowledge and dreams collided, y/n found herself gaining new realizations. the classroom exhaled a quiet breath, each creak and shuffle composing a delicate prelude to the unknown.

“and i mean… the eraser is basically 75% used up.” miwa continued.

the two girls looked down at the rubber as y/n slowly peeled away the plastic that separated her from the truth of megumi’s feelings.

“which means that…” y/n continued.

sure enough there it was, her name was hidden under the plastic wrapping of his eraser.

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ribena59p · 12 days

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I've seen a lot of people try to paint Orcatstra / Maowzarts as problematic, and I believe much of it stems from misinformation or misunderstandings, often because it's being spread through word of mouth. I'm not making this post because Orcatstra asked me to—because they didn’t. No one is forcing me to write this; I'm doing it of my own free will. I really hope that #orcatstrahaters will take the time to read this carefully before dismissing it just because Orcatstra is my friend. I'm writing this to clear up the misinformation surrounding them, as I’ve seen people unfairly group them with genuinely problematic figures like Mawthe (who, by the way, draws necro art!!!).

Yes, there have been times when Orcatstra could have handled situations better (I'll try to keep my personal opinions on those situations brief), but let’s not forget—they’re 17! Some people seem to think that just because they’ll be 18 in a few months, they’re suddenly supposed to be all-knowing. Meanwhile, others are excusing or even babying older individuals like Criminalx3 and Parsnipling, both of whom, to my knowledge, are in their twenties! THEY should know better.

(Because someone asked) I bring up Parsnipling because they were called out for posting a fanfic where Dave from DSAF had animal genitalia (a cloaca). They then accused me of being the reason people sent them death threats, even though all I did was share a thread showing what they had posted. I didn’t even tell anyone to block them. Parsnipling lied to me, claiming that the tags with "cloaca" were meant as jokes. Afterward, they left Twitter (due to death threats, unfortunately) and went back to Tumblr, where they posted about how fandoms used to be spaces for "freaks." Take that as you will.

(I’m not debating the morality of referring to non-human genitalia with animal terms. Personally, I find it strange, which is why I made the thread in the first place—to draw attention to it. People are free to come to their own conclusions and decide whether to block or avoid interacting with them as they see fit.)

This post isn’t made to say you can’t..not Like orcatstra as a person..cus u can…everyone can dislike anyone for any reason just to reiterate this is just made to clear up misinfo

I exclusively use they/them pronouns for Orcatstra in this post specifically so that people don’t get confused about who I’m referring to, but please keep in mind when discussing them that they use any pronouns (besides from she).

The main points for why people deem orcatstra as problematic (that I’ve seen) are:

* Running a 15 year old off of their own tumblr blog

* Accusing a rape victim of liking and supporting rape + accusing the same person of being a groomer

* Comparing phone x Jack to slave x slave owner

* Blocking people for shipping things that they don’t like

I’ll be going through these one by one and explaining what happened to my knowledge.

Running a 15 year old off of their own tumblr blog

The 15-year-old in question ran a DSAF confessions account, where they posted anonymous confessions from people within the DSAF community. These confessions were typically related to DSAF topics.

I've seen people claim that Orcatstra harassed this person because their blog posted confessions about people disliking Davesport. However, that's completely inaccurate—Orcatstra doesn't, and never did, care if people dislike Davesport, so that part of the accusation is blatantly false.

(This is Orcatstras own words)

“I didn’t like harass them to the point they had to quit at most I made like 2 posts publicly and kept the rest of my disdain of a confessions account private”

“and I only disliked them 1) bc they’re a confess account which is inherently made to post and stir up drama like what. and 2) they DID post stuff that would cause drama so I was like dawg wtf”

“and then ppl from that blog started harassing ME 😭😭😭IN MY ANON ASKS 😭😭”

“Not (the 15 year old) I think but just ppl who followed the blog or were one of the “anons””

I believe some people are upset because Orcatstra was venting about the account on their private account, but I’m not really sure why... They're mad about that? Orcatstra’s private account only has about 50 followers, and most of those are people who follow with both their main and private accounts.

“I also think ppl were mad because I made a (admittedly dramatic) post talking about why I didn’t like the confessions account ,, but again from what I remember the points were just the og mod posting stuff that’s clearly gonna stir the pot YKWIM ..”

“and I only made that post because someone asked & for some reason you can’t comment pictures on tumblr which I think is quite stupid ☝️”

Accusing a rape victim of liking and supporting rape

(I do not know this persons pronouns so I will be referring to them with they/them pronouns, if they do not use these pronouns please tell me and I will edit this section to display the correct pronouns)

I believe the person being referred to is Cr1minalc1minalcr1minal, who has read and bookmarked non-con fanfics on AO3. Non-con stands for non-consensual, which is essentially the definition of rape. Orcatstra believes that if someone regularly consumes this type of content, it’s reasonable to assume they enjoy reading it. However, Orcatstra has never claimed that Criminalx3 supports rape.

“OH WAIT is it ok if i add that when i did point out the fanfic thing i genuinely was not aware at the time that guy was a victim, ..i dont rlly go on his acc bc i blocked him for my well being (i think thats the right way to use the phrase) … and i didnt/dont wanna be super creepy and stalk him. .. U CATCH MY DRIFT ..”

+ accusing the same person of being a groomer

(This is Orcatstras own words)

“So .. criminal ... I got this info from oomf so keep that in mind, but l've been told that he mains posts nsfw and encourages minors to consume nstw media and to my knowledge hangs out with one specific minor who changed ever since they became friends or something like that I NEVER! Explicitly said anyone was a groomer! ☝️ but it is very weird to see someone do that as an adult”

So they’re (minor and criminal) writing together but it’s not smut

“it’s not but like for a brief second we (orcatstra and oomf) were worried it was because. yk. that seems to mainly be what that guy makes 😓😓😓 (from what I’ve gathered)”

“And then I had to delete my replies bc I was replying on main and someone on tumblr (who does not follow (*oomfs) priv) took the links of my replies so I was like ‘erm what the freak this is kinda supposed to be a private convo’ and deleted them”

From what I understand, Orcatstra was having a conversation on their main account with someone on their private account, and they were discussing something about Criminalx3 that they believed to be true. However, it turned out not to be accurate. Unfortunately, someone on Tumblr took this conversation out of context and framed it as if Orcatstra was accusing Criminalx3 of being a groomer.

I don’t believe that Orcatstra ever made a public post stating that criminal was a groomer.

(I tried looking, but I may be wrong, feel free to correct me and I’ll edit this section)

Comparing phone x Jack to slave x slave owner

I believe this was stated in a now private youtube video where Orcatstra ranks dsaf ships, it may also be said in some tweets.

By definition, the DSAF 3 phone guys are slaves, regardless of the route. They are legally owned by Jack and work without pay. I understand that "slave" is a very strong and impactful word, which is why I'm personally hesitant to use it, but by definition, that’s what they are. You literally see Jack buying Harry in the DSAF 3 intro tapes. I've also seen people try to defend this by saying, "Well, Jack can be nice to them!"—as if that somehow erases the fact that he still owns them.

Blocking people for shipping things that they don’t like

There's nothing wrong with blocking people, even for no particular reason. It can be a little upsetting to get blocked over a post about a ship, but try not to take it personally—it’s just the internet. Unless you were doing something genuinely awful, Orcatstra probably blocked you simply because they didn’t want to see a ship they don’t like. They're just curating their online experience, which is totally normal.

And yes, people are bringing this up as an actual point against them.

I know that many people who dislike Orcatstra also dislike me for being their friend and sharing similar opinions. However, if you haven’t blocked me, please share this with others who might be misinformed.

There have been additional things added on by other people in reblogs if you would like to hear their side of the story.

I am more than happy to engage in neutral and respectful discussions, but I will not be willing to continue if you begin the conversation by being extremely rude or using offensive language. In any other case, I’m fully open to a constructive exchange of ideas, thank you.

#orcatstra #txt

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originalcollectionartistry · 4 months

Text

I always knew... SFW

Hey all!

I'm so sorry I haven't posted anything lately... things happened and I didn't have the energy to write.

Echo's sequel is coming, I just need to edit. I have a Tech fluff in the works and I promise I'll for Wrecker and Crosshair soon.

Anyway, here's a Hunter fic for you! I do have a smutty part 2 planned for this one, I just need the energy to write it.

CW: Angst, emotional torment, jealousy, idiots in love, protective Hunter, Hemlock trying to manipulate reader

Word count: 2673

___________________________________________________________

Once you had settled in Pabu, you thought the missions were over but no. You still went on missions for credits, or to help Phee retrieve some artifact. You didn’t mind, but it always felt like they were becoming more and more dangerous with less chance of all of you coming back alive. When you did all come back alive, it was a different opponent you silently fought on Pabu.

You didn’t know what it was about Shep’s sister-in-law that made your skin crawl. Only that she was a sweet talker and could manipulate very easily. Phee was always cordial with her, but Tech and Echo made their distrust very clear while being polite. What you didn’t like was how all over Hunter she was. Hunter never made it clear whether he was interested or not which made you on edge. The way she was flirting and touching him made you feel sick every time you saw it.

“You, okay?” Wrecker elbowed you, snapping you out of thought.

You looked around and saw everyone staring at you expectantly. Hunter’s face was set in an unreadable way, so you didn’t know if he was annoyed or concerned.

“Hm, yeah,” you smiled. “Just a bit tired. What did I miss?”

You were re-briefed on the newest mission and your role in it. You were to sneak with Tech and Echo to retrieve the information needed for Rex about Hemlock’s location on Tantiss while Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair were to draw fire if it was needed, Phee was the getaway driver while Tech was occupied. While Echo plugged into the station, Tech would go on about decryption and you would scour for all relevant information as Echo transferred and moved files around, all while keeping the alarms off.

Hunter looked at you expectantly and you nodded. “Yes Hunter, I know what to do.”

“Alright. Let’s stock up and head out in 4 hours,” Hunter ordered.

You all dispersed to stock up on rations and equipment and as you left, you saw Meela saunter up to Hunter, practically laying herself on his chest. You heard her compliment his commandeering and how he was so strong for your team. You rolled your eyes as Hunter looked down at her and thanked her before taking her waist and moving her elsewhere. You gagged slightly before moving things onto the Marauder. Crosshair noticed and chuckled a little. Everyone knew of your crush on the sergeant but at your request (begging) the squad swore to not tell Hunter. Besides, it was best for him to figure it out on his own.

“You’re really not going to say anything?” the sniper snarked as he loaded his shooter above his bunk.

You glanced over from your spot, where you were loading rations into the compartments. You shook your head and kept quiet. You really didn’t want to have this conversation, especially with the chance Hunter might walk in at any time.

“Alright then. Keep your secrets sarad. He’ll find out eventually.”

Hunter joined you not long after. He made orders to move out earlier than expected. Wrecker shoved his equipment in the compartment before settling into his bunk, Echo and Tech finished upgrades on the ship and you closed your compartment to finish stocking once you were on the move.

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“Gods sarad! Can’t you go faster?” Echo asked desperately. “They’ll be on us any second!”

“Two more seconds! I’ll find it!” You were frantically sorting through files while Tech decrypted everything. You made a sound of success and told Echo which one to grab.

The mission went wrong from the get-go. You weren’t counting on motion sensors or silent alarms. The Empire typically used overwhelming numbers and force to counter an opponent but this time it was a shock to you all when Crosshair commed almost instantly once you were inside that you needed to move fast as there were troops converging on your location. Hunter and Wrecker distracted some troops and drew their fire but there were still troops coming.

Echo disengaged from the station and Tech unplugged his datapad. You all drew your blasters and set out to rendezvous at the ship. You all ran frantically, exchanging blaster fire behind you.

You didn’t look where your foot landed and tripped, falling flat on your face. Echo and Tech paused, and you screamed at them to keep going. You’d be fine! The mission was more important. They hesitated but saw you get up before they were rushing off to the rendezvous point.

You got yourself up and shot the four troopers surrounding you. You ran to catch up, but a trooper was able to stun you from a blind spot. The last thing you saw was troopers surrounding you and picking you up before you blacked out.

This was not good. I’m sorry guys… I’m sorry Hunter.

______________________________________________________________

You had assumed you’d be transferred and thrown into a cell but as you walked around the room you’d been given, you wondered what Hemlock’s game was. You sat on the bed, hoping this wasn’t some sort of seduction tactic. Hemlock wasn’t your type. Your type was back on the Marauder, being flown back to Pabu to see his ill-defined girlfriend. Whether or not Hunter knew, you saw Meela draped over him in a supply closet before heading out and he had made no move to remove her. So, with a broken heart, you walked on, pretending to not see them.

“Still wondering if your clones will find you?” a voice resonated behind you.

You turned and found Hemlock standing in your entryway. He placed something on a shelf near the entranceway before approaching you, a smirk on his face.

You shrugged. “That depends entirely on if they got away or not. I told them the mission comes first and to not risk their lives for me. So, Royce Hemlock, if they escaped then they’ll probably return to our base. It’ll be a while before they notice I’m gone.” You hated saying it, but you felt it a little bit true. The batch had their own lives blooming, and you didn’t know if you were part of it.

“Hmm,” Hemlock mused. “It must be hard not knowing if you have a place with them. Not knowing if they value you to come for you.”

You raised a brow. Your boys cared for you as their own. You were a family. What in the Force was he talking about? They had to come back for you… right?

___________________________________________________________

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S NOT HERE?” Hunter roared. “You three were supposed to be here before any of us!”

Phee looked concerned, she’d never seen the boys this angry or upset before. You were clearly more important to them than they led on. She knew you were their medic and an integral party of their little family but with the way Hunter was acting and the others reacting, it was clear they cared for you much more than she thought.

“We have to go back for her!” Omega begged. She nearly lost Crosshair to the Empire. She wasn’t about to lose you too.

Tech sighed, “She was right behind us. She told us to keep moving after she fell, and we heard her breathing heavily behind us. Besides, we have no idea where she is. For all we know she’s been moved and detained. It’ll be more prudent to regroup and plan. Maybe she’ll find a way to escape and alert us.”

Hunter stared into one of the monitors on the ship, staring at the picture you all took of each other after a successful mission. Your smiling face, adrenaline filled eyes, messy braids, and everything about you. Over his dead body he’d abandon you now.

“We’re going back for her.” He growled. “Now.”

Tech looked at the ships communication system and noticed it flashing. “That may not be necessary. It seems she’s found us,” he said, noticing the comm channel matched yours.

Accepting the comm, Hunter’s face set in a hard line, seeing Hemlock’s face.

______________________________________________________________

Smirking in the clone’s face, Hemlock set the communicator down in a position that showed you and him in the bedroom. He wanted to play a game and let these clones know just how disposable they were to you.

“So,” Hemlock started, muting Hunter’s end of the call. “You believe the clones don’t care for you? That’s not like them. Their sense of family and loyalty is remarkably well-known.”

You grimaced, wanting him to stop talking. You knew that about clones. Everyone knew that about clones. You fought alongside them for 2 years. You knew the loyalty clones felt to each other and their generals; before Order 66 of course. It was their genetic specimen, Jango Fett, that gave them their sense of loyalty. Mandalorians were notorious for their family strength. It was like they were genetically incapable of not taking children under their wing or forming a family. You’d heard stories of Jango only wanting an unaltered clone to raise as his son, and other Mandalorians taking foundlings and orphans and giving them a home.

“You don’t need to remind me. I know them well enough.”

Smirking, Hemlock swiped a lock of hair behind your ear. “Oh, but you said you didn’t know if they noticed you were gone. Do you not feel a part of their little family?”

Wrecker and Omega were such mischiefs that you rarely saw them unless they were hungry and eating. Echo was usually on his own or with Rex, Tech was with Phee and Hunter… gods knew if he was with Meela a lot of the time. You made a face and Hemlock noticed the flare of anger in your eyes.

Looking over, he saw Hunter and Omega screaming silently from the comm, begging you to see them. The game the doctor was playing was deliciously agonising for them and he was loving it.

“Perhaps it’s time you found a new family. I’m always looking for an assistant. Especially one familiar with medical practices.”

You side-eyed the doctor, sensing the flirtation and desire to have you change to his team. To join the Empire.

“No. I have no desire to leave them. I just… It’s hard being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. Especially when they love someone else.”

Smiling wider, he set his trap. “Ah, unrequited love. I’m guessing a certain sergeant hasn’t noticed your affections. They’re clear as day to everyone around you, how has he not noticed?”

Hunter was hitting the durasteel beside him, screaming for you to look at him.

“NO! Of course, I noticed! I could always sense it!”

The batch watched helplessly as their medic was interrogated and teased and their sergeant cried helplessly that he cared. They never noticed how sad you were, loving the security they had on Pabu. Crosshair grimaced, looking silently to Wrecker and Echo, both of whom knew like he did of your affections towards Hunter. They just never guessed how torturous it was for you to keep it hidden. You wore your heart on your sleeve, hiding your feelings must've been draining.

“I always knew… I just didn’t want to risk losing you…” Hunter felt useless and powerless. He wanted to scoop you up and hold you tightly, promising that you’d never feel this way again. They failed you; Hunter failed you. They failed in making you know and assuring you of your place with them and their love for you.

You scowled. How dare this small man try and worm his way into your good graces through false sympathy. “I don’t know what your game is Hemlock. But regardless of my feelings, my sergeant is happy with his partner and the others are content. As long as he’s happy with Meela, I don’t care how I feel.”

Hunter’s head shot up. Meela? You thought he was with Meela? Meela was the one hitting on him! He never cared about Meela! He just didn’t want to hurt anyone so restrained himself from touching her, even if to remove her from his space. He couldn’t bear to even be near the woman with how thick she laid it on, regardless of his rejections. He had told Meela many times that he wasn’t interested and that his sights were set on someone else, but she wouldn’t let up. When she came onto him that day in the supply closet, he was sure if he pushed her away, he’d push her into the wall and cause injury.

“I mean, Meela is lithe and beautiful and smart and witty and quick.” You ran your hand through your hair, messing it and giving Hemlock a sense that you were losing control of yourself. “I mean, she’s the whole package! Who am I to that? Just some civilian that was assigned to them. They didn’t even need me!”

How could you say that? Of course, they needed you! You made the team better! They would probably be all dead if not for you! Hunter’s fists were tightening until he could feel himself leaving indents under his body glove.

“Tech is the smartest man alive! He was perfectly capable of acting medic without me!” Tears bloomed in your eyes, hating how easy this man was pulling these fears out of you… supposedly.

Hemlock smiled in Hunter’s direction, loving the look of helplessness in the clone’s eyes.

“Sounds like they took advantage of you and your talents.” He wiped a tear from your cheek. “A lovely young woman such as you? Anyone would be lucky to have the honor of your affections.”

Sighing, you allowed yourself to decompress. “No… they never did that. It was wartime. I was never a priority. Love was never a priority, not even for me.”

Hemlock was getting frustrated with you. Every time you would walk into his trap, you’d slide yourself out of it. Which was the game you were playing.

You clued into what his intentions were pretty quickly. The good doctor wanted to make you insecure and question your place with Clone Force 99 so you would join him and gain a sense of security. It was very amusing to you, to see him start to flounder. He kept trying to set you up to become sad and turn against your family and it was so funny to you. As insecure as you were about your place with the batch, they were loyal to you and you to them.

Eventually you saw the communicator by the door and saw Hunter near tears and you realized he heard everything you’d said. You smiled and subtly nodded to him, letting him know you were okay. Your family was coming for you, and you’d wait for them forever.

“Well,” Hemlock stood, smoothing his robes out. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. We shall see if your clones come rescue their medic.” He “calmly” stormed out, gripping his gloved hand in anger. As much as he wanted to hurt you, you were more valuable alive and well and could bargin.

“Tech, you get those coordinates?” Hunter asked frantically. He wasn’t going to make you wait anymore then you had to.

Nodding, Tech quickly punched them into the navigation system and set off to your location.

Hunter had a new mission now. His mission was to bring you home, tell you his feelings and love you for the rest of his life. He had been yours for years now; since the Clone Wars started and since you were assigned as their medic. Your loving nature, wit, intelligence, charisma, and so much of you and who you were made Hunter weak in the knees. As your commanding officer, Hunter had to maintain a distance and so while he made it clear he cared for you as a part of the squad, he made sure to swallow his feelings, so he didn’t compromise you.

Settling in his seat, he swore that would change. He would ask to make you his and love you for as long as time allowed him.

I’m coming cyare. I’ll find you soon.

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I hope you all like it! I took some inspiration from @arctrooper69 series "As iron sharpens iron" which is awesome and y'all should read it! (I hope thats okay!)

Anyway, like I said above, I do have a smutty part 2 planned but life has overwhelmed me so it might be a hot minute for that!

Enjoy!!

#ao3 fanfic #the bad batch #sw tbb #hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #star wars the bad batch #fanfic #hunter angst #idiots in love #protective hunter #jealous reader #clone simp #tbb fluff #hunter fluff

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