#cricket oc

[thesightstoshowyou]

Mess

- Into the Cricketverse - Part IDK This Is Just Porn -

Asa Emory (The Collector) x Cricket (OC) (NSFW)

Warnings: Bondage, dacryphilia, anal play, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, Jesse’s a perv

A clatter from the storage room draws Jesse’s attention. Condensation from the glass of whiskey in his hand drips from his fingers and marks his trail as he leisurely saunters to the open door. He shoulders the doorframe and takes a slow sip before pulling out his phone.

‘Whatcha looking for?’ it shrieks. Asa shoots a petulant glance over his shoulder before he continues to dig through the toy closet.

“How you find anything in this fucking unorganized mess is beyond me,” he snaps as he shoves a box of collars to the side. “Where’s the spreader bar?”

Jesse perks up at his words and pushes away from the door. ‘Oooo, Sir’s feeling kinky,’ screams the cell.

“Either help or get out.” Chromeskull chuckles silently and waltzes over to a wardrobe. He reaches up and plucks the bar off the top before holding it out to Asa, a shit-eating grin twisting his scarred face. He’s the only one tall enough to see where it was.

The Collector rolls his eyes and snatches the implement out of Jesse’s outstretched hand before stalking away. Under his breath, he mutters something about “freakish height.”

‘You’re welcome! You kids have fun.’

**

Soft leather cuffs encircle Crickets wrists and ankles. They are tight enough so she can’t slip out of them, but not too tight as to cut off circulation. The Collector must be feeling generous.

She shifts slightly, wiggling a little in feigned struggle. He likes to see her squirm, so she does. Truthfully, this position—completely nude, face down on the plush rug, ass up, legs spread wide, arms between her legs, all four cuffs hooked to the metal bar—is not the most comfortable, especially on her still-tender face. She turns her head carefully to the side to keep pressure off her healing nose.

It could certainly be worse, she will admit.

Footsteps muffled by the rug gradually approach. Cricket can’t see Asa with how her head is turned and he purposefully hovers just out of sight. The skin of her back prickles and she jolts when he skims his knuckles along her hip. Lips follow, then teeth, brushing, grazing, but not hurting. Not yet.

Warm breath fanning across her cunt is the only warning she receives before Asa drags the flat of his tongue from slit to hole. A squeak leaves her and she writhes, but scarred palms rest on her hips to keep her still. He licks again, then again before settling on her clit, slow, deliberate flicks of his tongue that leave her mewling and clenching on nothing.

The pop of a cap reaches her ears. She jerks again and a shudder ripples up her spine when chilly, lubed fingers circle her asshole. Cricket snaps her eyes shut, her back arching with the simultaneous stimulation by tongue and fingertips. A noisy cry tears from her throat when Asa sucks her clit into his mouth and eases a finger into her ass.

“S-Sir—

Cricket shivers at the feel of his breathy laugh against her cunt. He gives her one more slow lick before responding, “Already?”

Her toes curl and her cheeks blaze. “Please,” she whispers, fear of cumming without permission overriding embarrassment. Asa hums as though he’s considering it and carefully curls his finger. At the same time, he plunges two digits from his opposite hand into her dripping channel. He crooks them and begins to rub fast circles into her sensitive walls that force Cricket to scream in desperation.

“Cum,” he orders. The words are barely out of his mouth when that taut, wild pressure in her belly bursts and she gushes her orgasm onto her thighs, his palm, and the rug. Undeterred, Asa adds a third finger and starts to thrust both hands simultaneously. Over the slick squelch he commands, “Do it again.”

“SIR—

Her voice lodges in her throat when every muscle contracts with the force of the ecstasy that wracks her body. Mismatched eyes roll back, nails dig into palms, tears spill over lashes, and a strangled keen echoes around the room when Cricket barrels over the edge once again. More ejaculate sprays the rug, drips from Asa’s wrist, and wets and knees of his jeans.

“What a fucking mess,” Asa growls, but his tone is ripe with heat and approval rather than admonishment. Strength leaves her in a rush and Cricket slumps as much as her restraints will allow. Her chest heaves and sweat glistens across her skin. She does her best to stammer out her gratitude.

“T-Thank—thank you, S-Sir.”

The rustling of denim fills the space as he raises up behind her and rips his zipper open. “You’re not done. I’m going to fuck a few more of those out of you.” The weak little whine she emits only serves to make him groan louder when he finally sinks into her sopping warmth.

Bound as she is, Cricket can only submit and take it when Asa begins his assault. Her hips ache where he grips them and pulls her back into his vicious thrusts. Still, moans tumble freely from her lips as every punishing thrust sends wanton sparks shooting through her gut.

The heat of his chest envelopes her back when he leans over her to drag his fingers through the tears streaking down her cheeks. He shoves them in her mouth and strokes the taste of salt and her own cum onto her tongue. Now, she’s forced to speak around the digits, garbled begging when pleasure miraculously twists and tightens within her.

“Give it to me, Cricket,” he hisses. It’s nearly painful, the way the third climax is wrenched from her body, but—god—does it make her every nerve sing with rapture.

“One more.” She barely registers the rumbled words through her haze. Then, a calloused finger brushes her clit and pleasure collides with pain as her cunt clamps down on the cock pummeling it so exquisitely.

Cricket doesn’t hear the strained curse Asa grits out or her own wrecked cries, but she feels the teeth that sink into her shoulder and the twitching of his length as it paints her insides. Her ears ring and she must blink several times to clear her bleary vision. Oh, will she feel this tomorrow….

“Good girl, fffuck,” Asa breathes against her damp cheek. She wants to collapse in a boneless pile, but she can’t with the bar keeping her in place. A towel would be nice too; her thighs drip, soaked as they are with their combined fluids.

Just as Asa gets his arms under him and pushes upright, the penthouse intercom beeps and an automated voice crackles through the speaker, ‘Keep going, I haven’t finished yet.’

“God dammit, Jesse!” Asa snarls. Cricket can’t stop the delirious laugh that bubbles up out of her throat.

[factorii]

cricket but under the influence of illegal substances

[stuffiednose]

My current Jellycats!!

Iris the Siamese cat - pearl, they/them (transfem)

Brooke otter - Myora, she/her, cis butch lesbian

Medium bashful goat - cricket, he/they/it/she (bi gender)

I basically treat these guys as my ocs,, they r my little dolls that I give personalities and put in situations,, sometimes I draw them sometimes I take pictures it’s a mixed bag whatever I’m feeling lol

I will try my best to put image ID in the alt text

Just want to reiterate that this blog isn’t always SFW (but I will be tagging posts appropriately), that’s just bc these guys are also ocs and at some point I may explore adult topics and scenarios with them

About me

Name’s Ray I’m an indigenous, trans leftist - currently taking a break from uni,, in the meantime I’m doing this lol

I <33333 ruminants,, specifically sheep and goats :]c

My favourite Jellycat is the bashful goat

My first Jellycat was a small drake the dragon I got him in 2019,, though I only got into collecting jellycats recently :]

This is a sideblog and if you know me from my main blog I’m sorryyyy

No dni, I’ll just block you if you’re bigoted/annoying

[geriaunelysk]

"Cricket is the name with which I greet thou"

[sasterisk]

Bug Posting Doodle Dump

Ant x Cricket yaoi strangers to friends to lovers to exs to strangers to lovers hurt/comfort. or whatever.

love them. buges

[softichill]

[hhonchkrow234]

[zillychu]

did u know! rats do lil hops when they're happy! it's called "popcorning"! cats do not do this

[wars465]

Thiere X Cricket part 1

A/N: just a cute little story may be a kiss on the end!

The Coruscant Guard is on their last rounds before bed until something unexpected happens. Tsunami walks in pushing one of her many sisters as well. Fox groans, Thorn chuckled, and Thiere, he just looked up from his datapad. He looked at the two medics.

“I wonder what’s this about.” Said Thorn.

“She needs a job!” Tsunami yelled.

“But we already have a medic!” Fox snapped.

“I wouldn’t mind having another medic, plus Med needs help.” Said Thiere.

Fox looked at him if he were crazy and Thorn was smiling.

“Ok here you go!” Said Tsunami leaving.

“Now wait.” Said Fox chasing after her.

“And I will leave you two alone.” Said Thorn walking away.

There was a long silence between him and the medic.

“I am Thiere by the way.” He said.

“Cricket.” She said.

“What?” He asked.

“That’s my name Cricket.” Said the medic.

Cricket looked at Thiere, her sea-green eyes meeting his brown eyes.

“So what did he mean ‘I will leave you two alone’?” Cricket asked.

“Who! Thorn don’t worry bout him.” Said Thiere.

Cricket smiled and so did Thiere. Then, she kissed him on the lips.

“I think this is a start of a beautiful relationship.” Cricket said.

“I think it is.” He replied.

For the rest of the evening they talked about their lives until they had to part. This is a very beautiful relationship Thiere thought walking away.

THE END

[leona-florianova]

Dan "Cricket" Periwinkle

After years of working as a camera technician at the Golden Globes in New Reno, he decided hes had enough of dealing with the producers, "directors", "writers", other cameramen and The Stars of the studio... And left along with most of the cameras, film material and knowledge. Essentially leaving the New Reno porn industry in shambles*...At least for a while

He currently works as freelance war photographer for NCR. Its not better work but he enjoys the action.

*mercenaries were tasked to fetch him dead or preferably alive and to retrieve the cameras, but so far hes managed to dodge them.

[zerogutzz]

Constructive Criticism, Part 1

GITM by @venomous-qwille

[thesightstoshowyou]

Into the Cricketverse

- Cinnamon Rolls and Meat Tenderizers and Cigarettes, Oh My -

Introduction: Marena’s POV* Introduction: Cricket’s POV Aftercare Bread Boundaries* Movie Night* Welcome to My Death Talk Mess Audition Tape* Hair Brushing*

*asterisk denote parts written by the amazing @slashhinginghasher

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, it’s always noncon with Asa, a little ptsd, face-fucking, graphic descriptions of vomit and gore, and a little torture

It is rare for Cricket to be up before Asa. She can probably count the occurrences on one hand. Cricket likes sleep and Asa can’t sleep, so rising before him has become something of an achievement. However, several days worth of late night murder and not returning until sunrise has finally taken its toll on the Collector.

The palest pink tinges the twilit sky, heralding the rising sun as Cricket carefully slips from the four poster. Asa doesn’t even twitch. He’s like a corpse, minus the steady rise and fall of his shoulders. Perhaps Cricket should savor this rare moment, but Jesse had requested the gingerbread cinnamon rolls she’d made on their last Christmas together, so she needs to get the dough made early enough for it to properly rise.

Silently, she slips into the bathroom to dress and pile her hair atop her head in as messy a bun as she can allow. The bruising under her eyes has finally transitioned from a vivid purple-blue to a more tolerable yellow-brown and the swelling has all but vanished. She’s glad for it; Asa’s ire can now be mostly covered by makeup.

Being alone in the kitchen is delightfully freeing. Sweet relief leaves her in a sigh as she measures ingredients into a bowl. The building tension among the penthouse inhabitants has risen to near suffocating levels. The unspoken history, the feelings, the threats, the egos…. Cricket would almost rather beg for death than suffer through it another day.

Her only solace is clarity. The morning after Asa had broken her nose, after he’d pinned Marena to the wall and done his best to intimidate her into submission, he had returned to his seat with an unmistakable look glittering in his dark eyes. Understanding had dawned like the morning sun blazing off the Florida coast.

The Collector is interested in Marena. Interested and in complete denial about it. Whether that meant he was interested in exploring her, or exploring her is, unfortunately, impossible to tell with Asa.

However, it is undeniable that the woman is certainly interesting.

Something about the hurt Asa inflicts on Cricket has an effect on Marena. Cricket sees it, Asa sees it. The only one apparently unaware is Jesse, though this may be intentional. Nothing can distract from his precious nighttime prowling and hours-long fuck sessions.

Dough comes together under her palms as guilt creeps into the edges of Cricket’s thoughts. Whatever’s going on behind those icy blues, it is apparent that Marena is holding herself back, is stopping herself from sinking her teeth into Asa for Cricket’s sake. It’s baffling and heartbreaking all at once, but Cricket can do nothing about it. There is no way to apologize or help without breaking Asa’s no-contact rule and inflicting more strife on the both of them. She couldn’t even accept Marena’s kind offer of food.

She covers the dough and leaves it to rise. The next sigh that leaves her lips is one of helpless frustration, but there’s nothing to be done. Cricket will bite her tongue as she always has, and likely always will.

Exiting the kitchen, Cricket makes her way through the penthouse toward the foyer, anticipation gradually beginning to win out over guilt. She had worried this opportunity was never going to present itself, but now—finally—it is time for the second reason she awoke so early, for the thing she’s been waiting for the entirety of this godforsaken trip.

The only things she has missed about Jesse’s Florida home are the smooth marble floors. That, and massive size of every room. Here in the spacious foyer, socks on her feet, she can do as many turns as her little ballerina heart desires.

Delicate fingers grasp the edge of the sturdy entryway table and Cricket warms up as she would on any barre. Music plays in her head as she pliés and tendus and stretches and works sleepy muscles to life. Actual music would be ideal, but the risk of disturbing sleeping predators is too great.

A quick pause to roll out dough, shape, and throw cinnamon rolls in the oven and she’s back to it, this time with turns. She does as many fouettés in a row as she possibly can before she’s out of breath and sweating. It’s so much easier for a grand allegro here than at Asa’s.

Cricket is so caught up in the freedom of movement that she almost doesn’t hear the timer. Fortunately, the beep is insistent enough to draw her from her reverie. God forbid she let Jesse’s cinnamon rolls burn.

Asa slouches in the kitchen when she arrives, cup of coffee in hand, circles under his eyes looking darker than ever. She greets him softly as she retrieves the icing from the fridge she prepared the evening prior. Cricket gives him first pick of the cinnamon rolls which earns her a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

***

She should know better by now.

Water rushing in the sink, soap bubbling on her cheeks, teeth brushed, pajamas folded on the counter and ready to wear, Cricket allows herself to—stupidly—muse that the day had been relatively uneventful.

The jinx is instant.

The television in the guest bedroom buzzes to life and crisp, clear whimpering fills the bedroom. “W-what is this?” A pause, then, “Hey man! What the fuck is going on?!"

Immediately, her stomach plummets. Cricket has heard real begging enough times to know what plays in the next room is authentic. There’s legitimate terror in that voice, something an actor could never truly convey.

Is Asa watching one of Jesse’s tapes? Is it his own video?

There’s a thud, scraping, and an angry, “OW, fuck!” Then, Marena’s accented voice emanates through the speakers.

“If you're going to rape someone, at least have the decency to take them down yourself.”

Startled, Cricket quickly rinses her face, scrubs it with a towel, and creeps from the bathroom. Asa stands before the television, arms crossed, dark eyes trained on the scene unfolding on screen.

“Oh fuck, is that what this is? Some kind of... feminazi intervention?"

From this new vantage point, Cricket now hears the young man’s sniveling voice from three separate locations: the television, Asa’s phone sitting on the nightstand, and—distantly—from the living room. Jesse must be broadcasting this to every TV and cell in the penthouse.

“I don’t know that word.”

On screen, Marena looks ten feet taller than she really is. The cold, fearless expression in her eyes, the wild mane of hair, and the…meat tenderizer (the same one Cricket used on the chicken the night before), gripped in her hand all add to the aura of danger radiating off her. It dawns on Cricket then that it is Marena who in charge of this scene. Jesse is merely a spectator, filming from the sidelines.

Chromeskull is not making her do this, any of it. Marena wants to be there. With shock, Cricket realizes she has completely misinterpreted their dynamic.

And now she understands Jesse’s obsession.

A sickening whack echoes around the penthouse when Marena strikes the man in the face. Cricket yelps, feeling the terrible sound in her gut, and claps her hands over her eyes. She is about to flee back to the bathroom when a warm, scarred hand grips her wrist.

Pleadingly, Cricket looks up at Asa as he pulls her to his chest. He allows her to bury her face against him, apparently content to be the only viewer.

But hearing is more than enough to paint a gruesome picture.

The screaming, the bargaining, the wet, heavy smacking of weighty metal against flesh, the crunching of bone is all clear as day to Cricket, even through the palms covering her ears. However, none of these sounds compare to the shriek of pure, righteous anguish that Marena looses as she viciously pummels that despicable boy into a pulp. Cricket hears the history in it, hears the heart-wrenching sadness that only a life of misery can bring.

Marena, what happened to you?

Tears sting the corners of her closed eyes as Asa slides his hand to the back of her neck to better feel her trembling. He has been eerily silent for the entirety of this feature. Cricket wonders if his feelings about Marena have changed as her own have.

The audible click of the television plunges the two of them into deafening quiet. The movie is over, it seems, but Cricket is far from relieved as Asa grips her shoulders and shoves her to her knees. Fingers prod at her mouth and she obediently opens wide so Asa can push three of them down her throat.

Next is his cock, fed slowly into her mouth until her still-tender nose is buried in curls. Panic makes her tense, the reminder of their first afternoon here fresh in her mind. Asa pauses, keeps his length buried in her throat as he fiddles with something overhead. Breathing shakily through her nose, Cricket hesitantly peels her eyelids apart to glance up.

In his hand, Asa holds the remote. She hears a click. Then—

“W-what is this?” A pause, then, “Hey man! What the fuck is going on?!"

God help her, he’s watching it again. The pathetic, fearful noise that leaves Cricket’s stuffed throat finally draws a satisfied grunt from the man hovering just above. Hand on the top of her head, he holds her in place and thrusts.

It starts with lazy, even strokes that gradually build to Asa’s usual vicious pistoning. She chokes on spit as tears freely dribble down her cheeks and stick her hair to her face. Asa releases a strained breath, eyes glued to the screen.

Cricket hears Marena’s terrible scream just as Asa grips both sides of her head. For one, horrifying second she thinks he’s going to break her nose again, but then he shifts them both in a semi circle. Unintentionally, Cricket catches sight of the pulpy mess of face, bone, and brain being beaten into concrete by the meat tenderizer just as Asa’s cock hits the back of her throat.

Cricket gags, retches, and vomits. Chunky bile fountains up her throat and, having limited space to escape with so much cock in the way, burns its way out her nose and the sides of her mouth. The mess splatters them both, nauseatingly hot and reeking of the night’s dinner.

Horror, mortification, disgust, panic; it’s a myriad of wretched emotions that leave her reeling and rip a garbled plea for mercy from her sore throat. The punishment she’s going to get for this—

Asa laughs. He laughs that genuine, raspy bark so rarely heard by anyone, let alone Cricket, Through tears, she stares up at him in astonishment. Her shock grows exponentially when he grips handfuls of her vomit-caked hair and continues his onslaught.

It’s horrible, having the taste of sick savagely forced back down one’s throat. More nausea roils in her gut when she gags again and, with no way to draw in air through her dripping nose, her lungs starve. Luckily, she doesn’t have long to wait.

Asa snarls and sheaths himself completely, adding his seed to the mess that is her mouth. Then, finally, his grip relents. Cricket resurfaces, hacking sobs spilling from her lips aside saliva and puke and spend.

She frantically wipes her face, desperate to rid herself of the smell and sensation, but Asa bends down, seizes her around the waist and bodily tosses her onto the bed. He pins her by the head, sticky face smashed into the comforter as he all but tears her shorts from her legs.

Cricket expects to be violently, painfully filled the very next second, but the Collector’s pause surprises her. Jars her. She can’t see it with how most of her face is pressed into the bed, but she can hear the familiar click of the television.

“W-what is this?” A pause, then, “Hey man! What the fuck is going on?!"

Cricket hopes with all her heart and soul she can keep her nausea at bay until the Collector is satisfied.

***

Cricket regains consciousness with a croaky, pained groan. Through her eyelids, she sees natural light filling the room. It’s the next day then, though she can’t even begin to guess at the approximate time.

Under the sheets she shifts and sucks in air through her teeth when every muscle protests. She’s achingly sore, both from dancing and from what the Collector did to her last night. She can still hear the man’s whimpering playing on repeat in her skull. Asa must have replayed that video at least ten times.

She’s clean, at least, hair still damp from the shower and slow to dry in Florida’s humidity. Asa is always very meticulous about tidying her up after he ruins her. Cricket suspects he enjoys that part almost as much as the rest. Now, if only she could rid herself of the memory.

The bedroom door whips open and Cricket flinches in alarm. Asa strides in and begins rifling through the closet. Silently, she wonders if she should get up or stay put, but her question is answered before she can even voice it aloud.

“Swimming suit,” Asa orders. “Jesse is demanding a pool day.” Her lime green bikini lands on the bed at her feet as he speaks.

No one but Asa would be annoyed by a pool party, but there is definitely less vitriol in his voice than there has been the last few days. The question is, was it the previous night’s activities that lightened his mood, or the video itself?

“Mel? Mel, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it. I didn't mean- Oh, jesus fuck-

Cricket winces at the memory of the audio. Laboriously, she pushes upright and shifts herself out of the bed. Her knees wobble as she reaches for the bathing suit.

Dark eyes take in every new bruise, every angry, red slash across pale skin as Cricket dresses. She’s too used to the feeling of his gaze on her now to even notice. Is that a blessing? She isn’t sure.

Glancing down at herself, she grimaces at how little of her…treatment the bathing suit hides. The bruises on her hips are the worst, dark purple stripes the exact length of Asa’s fingers. She should put on the cover-up she brought—

“No,” the Collector says simply before she’s taken even three steps to the closet. Cricket stops in her tracks and bites her lip, but nods in understanding.

Of course he’d want to parade around his handiwork.

Asa coos in mock sympathy as he takes her face in his hands. The sunlight bathing the room sharply illuminates every nick and scar adorning his face. Cricket’s mismatched eyes trace the thick stripe across the bridge of his nose. He watches her watch him for a moment, then leans in when he’s had enough of her assessment. His kiss is more like a bite, teeth sinking into her lip and tongue hungrily licking up the little gasp she emits. “My poor little Cricket,” he murmurs against her mouth.

The water is somewhat of a relief. A few laps back and forth across Jesse’s lavish infinity pool with its body temperature water and breathtaking view help to loosen Cricket’s tight limbs. It eases the ache, somewhat. Small mercies.

Asa lounges in the shade on a nearby chair. He wears shorts and a t-shirt and takes a long drag from the cigarette perched between his fingers. Smoke obscures his face and Cricket wonders what he would look like in swim trunks. She’s never seen him wear them and assumes she never will. Even his choice of attire today is somewhat of a surprise. He must be in a decent mood.

Of course, the relaxation is short-lived. The slide of the balcony door reaches her ears and Cricket peers over the edge of the pool to see Jesse and Marena saunter out into the sunshine, the former wearing only sunglasses and a Speedo and the latter wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts. Hastily, Cricket glances away, unable to meet Marena’s gaze.

‘Morning, sluts,’ Jesse signs and Asa scoffs in annoyance. Grinning and crouching at the edge of the pool, he playfully pinches Cricket’s cheek and asks, ‘Did little Cricket have a good night?’ Chromeskull’s shoulders shake with silent snickering when Cricket gives him a pleading look that says, ‘Please don’t bring that up.’

Patting the top of her head, Jesse stands. Then without warning, he steps back and hurtles himself into the water with a practiced cannonball.

The resulting splash leaves no survivors. Cricket quickly covers her chuckle with a hand when Asa and Marena both protest in unison, Asa citing Jesse’s lack of respect and Marena cursing him in what Cricket assumes is Russian.

Shaking her head, Cricket leisurely swims to the ladder and pulls herself up and out of the pool. She does her best to ignore the self-consciousness that pricks at her skin when all her scars and bruises, old and new, are revealed and highlighted by the gleaming sun. She hopes Marena isn’t looking, doesn’t wish to hurt her anymore than she already is, but knows deep down those keen eyes see more than they let on.

As Marena curls up with a book in the chair furthest from Asa, Jesse swims to the edge of the pool nearest her and pats the puddle that has formed there to get her attention. She resolutely ignores him until he flicks her with water.

“What?” she hisses, snapping her book shut.

‘Swim with me,’ he orders, signing fingers crooking into a lewd come hither motion.

“No,” is her icy reply as she returns to her book. Cricket doesn’t see what Jesse signs next as she retrieves a towel and seats herself next to Asa. Smoke curls up around her form, the cigarette still resting between his fingers. He must have managed to save it from Jesse’s tsunami.

“Why don’t you go and fuck yourself instead?!” Cricket’s head whips up in alarm with Marena’s barely controlled shout. Her tiny form is pressed back into the chair as though she is trying to put as much distance between herself and the pool as physically possible.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no—

Asa clears his throat. Slowly, he leans forward to rest his palms on his knees. “Your insolence has gone on long enough.” His tone is even, but the measured pace of his words and their undercurrent of finality tells Cricket something terrible is about to happen. Frantically, she glances from Asa to Marena, whose expression has morphed into something akin to pure steel.

Asa turns slightly to address Jesse. “Your lack of control over your toy is embarrassing, frankly, though I suppose you’d have better luck taming a wild animal.” Gently, Asa reaches out, intertwines his fingers with Cricket’s, and brings them to rest in his lap. It’s deceptively sweet and sends her heart rate sky high. Quietly, menacingly, Asa adds, “Fortunately for you, even the wildest of animals can be brought to heel with the proper incentive.”

The Collector looks directly at Marena as he twists Cricket’s arm to expose the soft skin of her forearm. Trepidation chokes a whimper from Cricket’s throat and she fights the nearly overwhelming instinct to thrash. Her fingers curl as much as his will allow, the tendons in her wrist flex, her chest heaves with ineffective gasps.

Pinching the cigarette between thumb and forefinger, Asa sharply presses the lit cherry to Cricket’s flesh. It sizzles and smokes and blistering agony forces a strangled cry from her lips. Cricket writhes with a strange, jerking motion as she battles the urge to rip her arm away in favor of remaining obedient. He simply digs his nails into her palm to keep her arm where wants it as he twists the cigarette back and forth, extinguishing the ember against charred skin.

There’s a clatter across the pool and all attention momentarily turns to Marena, who has leapt from her chair with enough force to knock it to the ground. Frigid rage is her expression as shoulders square and fists clench. She is unchecked, her emotions laid bare, masking no longer her goal.

She wants the Collector’s attention on her. Demands it. With devestating resignation, she utters a single, succinct concession, intent in every syllable:

“ENOUGH.”

[factorii]

anyways.

Ann kristoph pfp

[pyjamac]

hang on st christopher, now don’t let me go

[banana-rana]

GUH,

doodle dump,

Various characters of GITM-

Spot,Sol, Solicorn ( au in the discord), Clip, fool, elias and cricket

AND Someeee of my own Ocs (parhi and dawn interacting) as well as my interpretation of the nutcracker if it was the GITM cast

[myokk]

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

from my oneshot🫶🫶🫶

I just really wanted to draw these two idiots😭💘