#drabbles🎹

[percysmusic]

intro post

name: percy pronouns: they/ask age: minor main blog: @runwiththerain

purpose of this blog: we will post covers of songs, lyrics and other music drabbles here

our tags: #covers🎤 #lyrics📝 #drabbles🎹

[musaeon]

tag dump! (saki)

[orbitariums]

( in the accent of a suburban blk girlie ) dhmu just thinking ab being art and patrick's joint pretty little thing and they're both like hah ! art/patrick could never score a girl like this, she's different from every woman ive ever met ( black as hell, boujie as hell, BUILT as hell ), he doesn't have it like me. and then all of a sudden they both find themselves at a mostly black club she frequents and posts ab on myspace a lot and they both find themselves giving her flirty, llustful looks across the dance floor at her, go to give eachother a 'hah you could never pull all that' look and realize they're both doing the same thing and then realizing that you could pull any little frat-esque, trust funded white boy you wanted and they LOCK TF IN on proving they could treat and fuck you best

- 🎹

all that | artrick + black reader

literally obsessed with this request piano anon ... thissss is universe-building and i LOVEEEE to cross cultures >:-) also, made this playlist to fit the vibe (tried to keep it 2006 themed but haddd to throw some cash cobain in there — his new album is also perfect to listen to for this)

contains: a FINE black GYAL, art + patrick feening they ain't never BEEN with a baddie, smut: fingering, oral (f! receiving), threesome i realize i could've made this a drabble but i'm a writer. so imma write. so i hope y'all fw this! word count: 7.7k and not proofread

It's giving Stanford era Art and Patrick — Art feels like he has dibs on you because he met you first and takes a few classes with you. Unlike Patrick, Art prides himself on being your friend — even though you've really only interacted through class projects, and Art hardly has the courage to talk to you outside of class.

You're different from anybody Art or Patrick have wanted in the past. Stanford opened up a door to a whole new world for them — a world outside of rich white girls who spent their summers in the Hamptons or elite tennis camps. and you were the key holder. you were hands-down the most stunning girl they'd ever seen. For Art, it was the Marley twists that reached your butt (a staple hairstyle of yours when you weren't rotating from lace fronts to sew-ins to natural), the way your brown eyes glimmered when a ray of sun shone over you through the window.

For Patrick it was your lips, thick and glossy or perfectly painted with a brown lip combo — gawking at you in the cafeteria when he visits and watching you reapply your lip gloss after you eat might be his favorite pastime.

Once, Patrick literally groaned, throwing his head back with a hand on his forehead when you bent over to pick up your lip liner, then readjusted your jeans and did that little jump trying to fit your ass properly back in the pants. Art couldn't even call him out on it because it took everything in him to hold back a whimper.

Your skin was supple and a rich brown, soft like a pillow they wanted to sink into. everything about you was something to admire — your laugh, the certainty in your voice whenever you spoke, your graceful yet assertive demeanor. You knew who you were, and that was something lacking from all the Sarahs and Kaylors and Brittanys they had been with. And, satisfying their basest desires, was your stallion body. tall, thick, and fit.

"She's so pretty," Art blinked slowly, the two of them watching you from a distance in the library as you gathered with a group of friends, standing around a table and giggling softly.

"Her ass is so fat. I've never seen anything like that shit before," Patrick murmured, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were concerned— really he was just incredulous.

A beat as Art swallowed hard, clenching his jaw. Ignoring the way his pants grew tighter. Patrick doing the same.

"Yeah," he exhaled after a moment of silence and low-eyed ogling from the two of them.

It was weeks of that — just gawking at you and getting themselves worked up thinking about you. At that point, there was more sexual tension between Art and Patrick than either of the two lusting boys had managed to work up with you. Tashi found their fantasizing aggravating and berated them for not just going up to you and talking to you — secretly, Art and Patrick praised the fact that Tashi has a girlfriend, otherwise she'd be competition too.

Art practically fainted when he saw you in the hallway talking to Patrick— Patrick leaning against the wall with his hand just above his head, towering over you with the confidence of a sly dog. He could just make out the murmurs of your conversation, the warm ringing of your laugh, Patrick's flirtatious chuckling overlapping just a few seconds later. He was laying it on thick, and Art felt like he might go into cardiac arrest with how angry he was.

Art strode up to the two of you with determination, slowing down once he gets closer so he doesn't come off as defensive as he felt. He gave Patrick an icy, tight-lipped grin that made Patrick smirk ever-so-slightly, his eyes wandering to some spot just above Art's head.

"Pat," Art bleated. He turned to you, his eyes softening along with his brain and everything else in his body except his dick. He smiled gently, locking eyes with you. "YN. It's nice to see you. I'm Art, by the way."

You shook your head and chuckled, one of your braids drifting over your shoulder. You pushed it back, and Art and Patrick went numb at the simple maneuver. You bit down softly on your bottom lip, grinning bemusedly,

"I know who you are. We did like two chem projects together, don't you remember?"

"Yeah, remember?" Patrick echoed, glancing over smugly at Art, who was too enamored by you to side-eye Patrick in return.

"Yeah. Yeah of course I remember. You were the backbone of our projects," Art trailed off into a genuine laugh, one full of appreciation.

"Well, I am pre-med, so," a slight laugh bubbled up in your throat and it was so attractive and confident, Art couldn't help but grin at you dazedly.

"Smart girl," Patrick inserted himself, catching your eye as soon as you turned your head to him again.

You didn't miss the way he held eye contact, the way he was so comfortable giving you a name to hold on to, like it was something he was used to doing with you. There's some sort of intimacy to a nickname like that, suggesting something provocative yet impossible to name. You're well aware of the fact that they're both attracted to you — you couldn't possibly miss them staring at you even when you knew they thought they were being discreet.

Seeing them now, up close and personal, finally actually talking to you instead of checking you out and avoiding eye contact, you saw their strategies, their archetypes. Art, the charming and unassuming rabbit — assumed timid by most but smart and eventually crafty — and Patrick, the rakish, bold fox, unabashed in his cunning and willing to show out. Both types that you'd seen before, but not quite in this form. And both intrigued you deeply. You, the snake. Letting them have their glory in this game now, but plotting just how you would leer over them soon enough, evaluating your prey.

"Gotta be. I only get one chance," you replied to Patrick's comment.

You could tell he was used to having girls stuck, and you weren't that type. But with you, their eagerness and need to prove themselves was strong right away.

You could tell they were trying to figure out what to say. You figured they were used to girls giggling and blushing over them. Maybe they expected a thank you, complete with hair twirling and bashfulness, like you didn't already know you were smart, fine, and everything in between.

"Mkay," you hummed, smiling precociously up at them. "I'm gonna hit the library, got a bio exam next week. I'll see you both later?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll see us," Art assured you immediately, on top of Patrick drawling,

"We'll be on the lookout."

You chuckled, giving them one last look over your lashes before you turned around. You could feel their eyes on you as they left, tracking all the way down to your hips which swayed as you walked.

They watched you like that all the way out the double doors, in a trance. When the door finally closed, Art swiveled on his feet and jabbed Patrick in the shoulder, walking off dramatically. Patrick caught up to him quickly.

"What the fuck? What's that for?" he whined.

"What the hell man, you can't just talk to her," Art frowned.

Patrick paused, staring at Art like he was a middle schooler,

"I just did. Besides, it's not like you were talking to her anyway, I did us both a favor."

Art knew he was being petulant but he couldn't himself — he didn't mind admiring you with Patrick, but sharing you was a whole 'nother thing. He wasn't ready to admit that the thought turned him on, and the attraction was still fresh enough that he was possessive. Maybe the doors would open once he knew he could get you.

"Yeah, well I was gonna."

"Ha!" Patrick barked out a cold laugh. "Like that'd get you anywhere."

"Fuck does that mean?" Art scoffed, glaring at his best friend and lamenting the luscious mop of overgrown dark curls brushing against his forehead.

Patrick tapped the underbrim of Art's red hat, which Art quickly readjusted,

"Look at you. You're dressed like a skinny white cuck. You don't even know what to do with all that." Patrick was growing more and more defensive and loud by the minute. He shook his head and glared off into the distance like he was thinking of just how he'd handle "all that," then continued. "She wants a big dog."

Art actually laughed — he genuinely doubled over laughing, and Patrick marched along while Art was cackling a few feet behind. He caught up to Patrick, red in the face,

"And you're a big dog? You're a rich white Jew from Rochester, New York."

Patrick smirked, like he knew something Art didn't — but when does he not know everything before Art has even gotten a hint? Or at least, he pretends to know everything. Art wasn't sure if it was too late to come out from under Patrick's wing, it's all he knew.

"Exactly," Patrick responded quietly.

Art, miffed but trying not to show it, switched the trajectory of the conversation and shook his head. He offered the first reality check ever since this little crush had formed,

"Don't sound too sure of yourself. I don't think either of us are her type."

"C'mon Art, don't be racist. You think she only likes black guys?"

Art was ruffled— he retorted,

"I didn't say that!"

"Whatever, I got her Myspace. I'll give it to you so you can stalk her but don't actually follow her like a creep. You're welcome, dumbass. You can thank me for bringing you a step forward from jerking your tiny little dick while you think of her alone in your dorm room."

How the fuck did he get her Myspace?

| | |

Patrick was back again by next week, fooling around on the computer while Art laid back on his bed and bounced a tennis ball against the ceiling.

"Oh shit," Patrick muttered to himself, a toothpick wiggling in the corner of his mouth. Art perked up, sitting up on his elbows.

"What?"

"Come look," Patrick waved Art over.

On the computer screen was your Myspace, which you just updated few minutes ago.

[ YN ] Can't wait to hit up Nebula later tonight!

"What's Nebula?" Art asked, his voice quiet and curious as he squinted at the glowing screen.

Patrick wordlessly pulled up another tab and typed up Nebula. It was a club a few miles north of campus. It had no description but a bunch of pictures. It was different from what they were used to — frat parties consisting of fist bumping and neon necklaces, a sea of white crashed against the floor and someone shotgunning a can of Budweiser. Instead, they're looking at photos of a nightclub with flashy lights and graffiti decor, and not a single hint of white — at least, not in any of the pictures. But it looks busy, and as far as they can tell, it actually looks fun.

Patrick and Art scanned the page of images meticulously, it was like their brains were reconfiguring. After some time, they both speak at once:

"Should we go?"

"We're fucking going."

The boys spent the next few hours getting ready. Or at least, Art did. Patrick didn't have a change of clothes, so he was going as he was — untucked Ralph polo, khaki shorts and all. Art on the other hand, showered and rotated through multiple outfits. By his third shirt, Patrick was fatigued,

"What are you doing?"

Art held up a white t-shirt to the mirror and angled it against his body,

"I don't wanna show up looking like an asshole. Look at you, what are you wearing?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Patrick griped, though he did a double take at himself behind Art in the mirror.

"Did you not see how everyone was dressed in the pictures? We're gonna look like idiots if we show up like a bunch of tennis douchebags," Art retorted, finally deciding on a white shirt and ripped blue jeans.

"We are tennis douchebags," Patrick said to himself. "Got a pair of black jeans I can wear?"

Art smirked wordlessly, throwing a pair over to Patrick.

The club is packed, to say the least. But it's huge. The bouncer took a long, hard look at the two boys before graciously deciding to let them in. They did look painfully out of place — the club seemed not to have a white person in sight for miles. They were tokens here, not oblivious to the curious looks and outright glares. Chingy's Right Thurr was blasting from the club speakers, booming over the sound of Air Force 1s and chunky heels scuffling across the floor. Art and Patrick stood in the front, taking in the view of the dance floor like a pair of birds overlooking the sea from the shore.

"What if she's not even here?" Art muttered.

"She's here dude, trust me. No way she's staying in on a Friday night after exams and this is clearly the place to go," Patrick shouted over the music. The two silently scanned over the crowd, desperate to pick her out in a sea of people. Then, Patrick laid eyes on her. He jabbed Art's side, who immediately snapped his vision to focus on you, so far away on the dance floor, unaware of their presence.

You were in a tight-fitting short pink dress that hugged every inch of your body — it seemed like it was made for you. Your tits sat pretty and your ass jiggled with even the slightest move. Your brown skin glinted under the flashing lights, and reflections shimmered off of your golden bracelets. You were with a group of friends, laughing and rolling your body to the beat, hips swaying with the motion of water. Patrick and Art were absolutely stuck, staring at you with dry mouths.

"Fuck," Art mouthed, and Patrick found his lips pulled beneath his teeth.

You didn't have a care in the world. You weren't drunk, but you had a few drinks in you and the bass was thudding against your eardrums just right. And you knew you looked good. Everything felt right — but the last thing you expected to see when you turned your head was two white boys, especially not two white boys who you knew. They seemed to realize that they were caught once you made eye contact with them, squinting at first in confusion.

Then, you saw it, the lustful look in both of their eyes. Patrick was unabashedly checking you out — you were sure he was doing it before, but now it was like he wanted you to know. And Art had this look in his eyes, so deep and watchful that you could tell he was simply drinking you in. Arms tucked over his chest, his tongue swiping slowly over his lip.

You giggled, returning their gazes with a subtly flirtatious cock of your head, and a bemused grin. Patrick smiled and nodded, and Art cocked his head in unison with you. Like he was playing. And you liked this game. You turned to your friends for just a moment and quickly excused yourself, then turned back to face the two boys, glancing towards the bar.

You didn't wait for them, just started slowly sauntering over, knowing they would follow you.

Once you broke their gaze, they turned to each other, smirking. On the one hand, they knew they had an in. But they were challenging each other too, with a competitive spark in their eyes that said, "you wish."

They rushed over to the bar, practically skidding across the bar and even bumping into each other. They got there just seconds before you did, still catching their breaths by the time you got close enough. Before you could even open your mouth, both of them were panting. In unison, they spouted,

"Hey—"

"Hi."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

They glared at each other, and you laughed, shaking your head. They were practically brothers, the way they were so in sync with each other and seemed to bounce off of one another. It was fun analyzing their characters, and even more fun because they were trust fund babies without a care in the world, and you couldn't be any more different. But one thing was for certain — you could get anything from them.

"That's y'all's favorite question, isn't it?" you grinned up at them slowly, batting your lashes.

They both laughed weakly, not used to being called out so bluntly. They were so set on having you, but now that you were in front of them, it was clear you made the rules. The way you assessed them both silently, letting your eyes observe the both of them from head to toe, slowly but surely, they had no choice but to stand at your feet.

"How about this," you started, and they perked up like dogs, hanging on to your every word. "Whoever guesses my drink of choice can buy me a drink."

"Sex on the beach," Patrick blurted, mainly because he was thinking about sex.

"Vodka cran?" Art offered hesitantly.

You squint at them, shaking your head.

"Cognac, neat."

Patrick snorted, and you looked over at him with a curious grin. He explained himself,

"Sorry, it's just... that's dark liquor."

"Duh. I don't waste my money on watered down cocktails." A pause. "So...?"

They fought to get drinks, but ultimately, Art was the one who flagged the bartender down first. You told them that you should talk somewhere a bit more quiet, and led them to a couch beneath the stairs, where the music was slightly muffled. You knew that their eyes were on you as you were walking, you could tell by the way they went silent while behind you.

You sat between them on the couch, one leg over the other. Both their mouths went dry over the sight of your thigh pooling and expanding as you placed it on top of your other one. Your brown skin contrasted deliciously with the pink fabric of your dress.

You sipped your drink and leaned back just a bit against the couch. Basking in their intent eye contact.

"So," you smirked.

"So..." Patrick grinned at you, unafraid to show all his teeth.

You glance between the two of them,

"It's your first time here, isn't it?"

"Whaaat?" Patrick feigned offense, shaking his head and waving his hand. He sips his drink, leaning back just a bit to align his body more with yours. "Psshh, no, we come here all the time."

"Really?" you challenged him, and he just nodded silently with that fucking smirk on his face, his eyes boring into yours with an impish sparkle. "'Cuz I come here all the time, and I haven't seen you two before. Like, ever."

"Guess you weren't looking for us hard enough," in comes Art, quiet as ever but still so strikingly present — it's impossible to forget him, the way he sneaks up on you every time with some suggestive comment or smart remark.

You turned your head towards him now, your smile growing bigger by the minute, thoroughly enthralled by this delicious dialogue.

"Oh, I should be looking for you two?'' you raised your chin up, humored.

"Nah, but I mean... you might find something you like," Patrick replied, coolly as ever, never looking away from you even when you weren't looking at him. It was how you found yourself face to face with him when you turned your head away from Art.

"Yeah? And what's that?" you mastered your most innocent voice possible, rubbing your glossy lips together. Patrick's eyes lowered down to your lips, and he let them stay there for a while before he spoke again,

"You gonna let us find out what you like?"

No smirk this time, accompanied by unshaken eye contact. It got your heart jumping, but you played it cool, chuckling and sipping your drink,

"Y'all play too much."

"Who says we're playing?" Art interjected then, and you're met with a charming, slow-appearing smile.

“Messy. You usually have the same taste in girls?"

"I mean, yeah, we do," the boys glanced at each other and nodded good-naturedly as if assessing the question together before providing you with an answer. "But you're just... better," Art replied, and Patrick nodded.

"Better? Better how?"

"I mean... you're incredibly sexy," Patrick said as if it were self-explanatory.

"Yeah? Tell me more," you bared your teeth in a slick-mouthed smile, leaning your chin on your hand and blinking softly up at Patrick. You turned your head slowly when Art spoke.

"Your lips. They look soft," he licked his lips when you looked at him. It was like he was a completely different entity now, shrouded by the thick cloud of desire he had for you. His voice had dropped an octave lower and his lids seemed heavier. He took a sip of Cognac and leaned back just a tad.

"Got a pretty voice," you turned this time to Patrick, whose lips were turning up in a slow smile, his teeth glinting in the dark club.

"Beautiful eyes," now Art — you knew you had them right around your finger but they were proving to be more than you'd bargained for — you wondered how often they moved like this to a girl, together.

"Your body's absolutely insane," Patrick divulged.

"Personality takes the cake, too," Art chimes in.

By the time they'd finished, it felt like they were inches closer to you, encasing you in their body heat. And they had inched closer to you, the both of them cocking their head in your direction, studying your face. It all felt so practiced, yet natural. They knew just what they were doing, and that's why you didn't move a muscle. But you'd be lying if you said it didn't have an effect on you.

You didn't reply, you just sat back and slowly swallowed down the rest of your drink. All eyes were on you, the boys both leaning back against the couch and just admiring you. You set the glass down on the table in front of you and got up to stand, wiggling your dress down to readjust it.

"Let's dance."

That's how you found yourself sandwiched between Art and Patrick while a song by Miguel played. Your breaths, hot and smelling of liquor, floated against each other, bodies pressed into yours. Patrick was behind you with his hands on your waist, towering over you and looking down at you in awe. He kept it respectful, but you could feel him against your ass, poking through his ripped black jeans. Art was in front of you, your arms around his neck, just inches of space between all of you. The club was dark bar for a strobe light rotating across your faces periodically, so you could hardly see the desire in their eyes, but you could feel it. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of the song and let your head fall back against Patrick's shoulder, swaying your whole body now. Art was pressed into you, his face dipping into your neck. He nearly whimpered— you smelled like caramelized vanilla and a hint of coconut oil. He imagined you lathering your damp body in creams and oils after getting out of the shower, and had to fight an erection from forming directly against you. Meanwhile, Patrick was already half-hard.

All they felt was bliss — Patrick had more of a sense of certainty that the night would end up somewhat like this, but Art doubted they'd even be able to find you. You could sense the way they held back, waiting for you to shut it down or take it an inch further. You paused when you felt your cellphone vibrate in your purse. You pulled away gracefully from Art and Patrick, who stood there dumbly waiting for you to pull them back in. You grinned when you read the text from your friends, who knew of your whereabouts, telling you to pull up to Alicia's apartment for afters, and "bring your little white boys."

You let the boys usher you out of the club, Art with his hand on your waist trailing behind you, and Patrick taking your hand as he pushed through the crowd and out the door.

"You smell amazing," Art mentioned the minute the fresh air hit you, re-surging the scent that drove him near ballistic in the club.

You giggled at Art's sudden outburst, and the genuine admiration in his tone,

"Thank you, babe. Now, are y'all good to drive?"

| | |

Alicia's apartment was huge — her dad paid for everything, to say the least. The moment you walked in, Alicia, Nessa and Tiana crowded around you, squealing and ooh-ing and aah-ing over Patrick and Art.

"This your lil shit right here? Go head, then YN," Tiana stuck her tongue out raucously and you shook your head, laughing.

Before you knew it, you were pouring shots of Hennessy down each other's throats, playing a vicious game of Uno, and blasting Me & U by Cassie. Art and Patrick had some settling in to do at first, since they weren't used to being around mostly black girls — the most fun they knew how to have at parties was fist-bumping to dubstep. But they fit right in, and your friends had no trouble making them feel welcome. As the night went on, you lost some of that mysterious enigma, but it didn't make them want you any less.

Art nearly melted beneath you when you stood up above him and poured Ciroc down his throat, holding his chin up with your fresh French tips. Patrick was next, putting on a brave face, unwavering against the screeches and pointing from your friends. He made sure to keep eye contact with you, swallowing boisterously with an "ahh!" sound, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You grinned and took a swig yourself, then ran to your friends to dance with them, swaying your hips and shaking your ass in a way they hadn't seen just yet. It was like they weren't even there, it was just about you and your friends now.

"Fuck, man," Patrick blinked slow, standing beside Art just feet away from you.

Art ran his hands through his hair, in disbelief at the way your ass moved in your dress,

"I'm gonna be honest, Pat. I don't think either of us could handle that."

For the first time, Patrick nodded, wordlessly agreeing.

It didn't take long for your friends to disperse about the apartment, most of them heading out to the balcony to smoke. You decided to stay behind inside ("For your guests, right?" Nessa had snickered, smirking over at Art and Patrick).

"Are you bored to death yet? You're the only two dudes here," you sauntered over to the two boys, who were leaning against the kitchen counter. All three of you were just a bit more than tipsy, eyes bleared over and heat fanned against your cheeks, drifting about in that pleasantly warm dreamscape.

"Bored? You just baby birded both of us with Ciroc," Art guffawed, and you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him with those low, drunk eyes,

"Yeah, you want more?"

"I want whatever you have to give me," Art replied with quickness, simply entranced by your eyes and that sweet voice. You chuckled, shaking your head.

A smattering of shrieking sounded from outside on the balcony. You scoffed, swiping a joint that Alicia had rolled from off the kitchen table. You started walking down the hall, back faced to them as you said,

"They're so loud. Let's go somewhere quieter."

Art and Patrick both gave each other a glance— they weren't sure if the night would ever actually come to this, but still they didn't quite know what to expect. All they knew was that whether or not either of them could "pull" you, you were the one in charge. Your hips swung more freely from side to side as you walked loosened by the Henny and Ciroc concoctions of the night. Art and Patrick's eyes were like pendulums following your hips.

You turned into the guest bedroom, plopping down onto the bed.

"Close the door," you gestured to Art. Heart pounding, he closed it behind him.

Art and Patrick stood stupidly in front of you. You shook your head at them, laughing quietly,

"Are y'all gonna sit?"

They might as well have tripped over themselves zooming to sit next to you on the bed, one on either side of you. You had the whole world in your hands. It was silent bar for the muffled R&B music from outside. For boys who were so flirtatious, they were awfully quiet now. You shifted to place your legs underneath you, sitting on your knees, your dress riding up your thighs just so. If they looked behind you, they'd see your ass poking out a bit too.

"So. Who's idea was it, hmm?" you hummed. "I mean, you must've wanted to come find me. I'm impressed."

You lit the joint, pressing it to your lips.

"Saw your Myspace post. Thought we'd keep you company," Patrick admitted, coolly as ever, though you saw the bulge forming in his jeans, saw the way his eyes drifted down to your lips around the joint.

You tossed your head back to exhale, giggling up at the ceiling and covering your mouth with your hand.

"You thought you'd keep me company. Y'all are too good."

You passed the joint over to Art, who took a drag and exhaled while keeping it perched in the corner of his mouth, voice half-muffled as he continued,

"We just wanted to make sure you weren't lonely, that's all."

"Yeah," Patrick took the joint from Art, doing the same. "Since you don't have a boyfriend or anything."

This time, Patrick lifted the joint up to your lips for you. You leaned into it, slowly wrapping your lips around it and sucking for just a second longer than you usually would, never breaking eye contact while Patrick's smirk grew wider and wider with each passing second. You blew the smoke out and it fanned against his face.

"And how would you two know if I don't have a boyfriend?"

Art sniffed, humored, as you passed the joint to him. It was starting to hit now — a haze rose up just so slightly in the air. You relaxed into it, feeling emboldened.

"Don't think we'd be here if you did," Art shot back.

You snaked forward, taking the joint from Art's lips and putting it to your own. He let out a sharp breath at the casual dominance such an action exuded. Your face was just inches away from his— you didn't know if it was the weed, or how turned on you were after exercising the utmost self-control for the better part of the night, but you noticed that his eyes had such a gleaming strike of blue in them.

"Think you got me, is that it?" you questioned, so close to Art that if you inched any further, your nose would brush against his. He swallowed, unsure of whether he should be turned on or scared, but either way, his pants were getting tighter. Your voice was so tantalizingly quiet as if you were sharing a secret just for him and Patrick. You huffed out a humored breath. "I'm not gonna fuck you, you know."

The way you were looking at him begged to differ. You felt the strap of your dress slide down ever so gently over your left shoulder. Before you could push it up, Patrick's hand, strong and firm, was grazing against your shoulder, pushing your dress strap up. You let your gaze on Art linger for just a moment longer before you turned to Patrick, smirking. You handed him the joint, which had gone out. He placed it on the bed beside him. You were leaning in, an unmistakably seductive twinkle in your eyes as you got even closer to Patrick, murmuring under your breath,

"'M not gonna fuck you either."

“Not gonna fuck me?” Patrick smirked, looking from your hazey eyes to your lips. You pressed your lips into his, letting your eyes flutter closed as you hummed your response into his mouth,

“Mm-mm.”

A slight breath escaped Patrick, keeping his mouth open so you could slip your tongue against his. Patrick kissed you hard and slow, his hands immediately wrapping around your back as you lifted your leg over his lap and straddled him. You could feel how much he’d been wanting this by the way his tongue curved effortlessly against yours and his grip on your hips got stronger. He kissed the way he talked. Rough and hard, but with effortless ease, like he knew exactly what you liked. Maybe it was his confidence that made the kiss so good, his lips locked in perfectly with yours. You reached behind, pulling Art in as you simultaneously pushed Patrick down so his back was against the mattress. 

You pulled away from Patrick and in one fluid motion turned your head to kiss him, letting your hand wrap against his neck and run up through his hair. Patrick, who was watching from the pillow, groaned and let his head fall against the pillow. Art kissed you needily, but gentler than Patrick. He kissed you like he was parched and your lips were a fountain of water found in a barren land— like he needed to explore more. As you kissed Art, you felt Patrick’s hands kneading your ass, and you moaned — which made them both moan. It took everything in Patrick not to just lift your dress over your ass. But you must have been reading his mind because you wiggled your dress over your ass so it was finally exposed. 

“That’s it,” Patrick groaned in approval, his hands finding new purchase against your bare skin, squeezing your ass with a tender grip.

Your kiss with Art grew sloppier, spit threatening to spill out from the side of your mouth as Art pressed himself against you. You let your hand wander down to his black jeans and gripped the hard bulge that was poking out, running your hand up and down it. Patrick, not one to be left behind, took the liberty of lifting your dress a little higher so he could see the black, lacy panties you wore. He let out a low whistle, his firm on your hips grew firmer, keeping them in place as he ground his up into you, rolling up directly against your clit through your underwear. You gasped when you felt how big Patrick was, pulling away from Art to look down at the sight of Patrick’s hips snapping slowly into you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head gently to the side so Art could press his lips against your neck. 

Patrick chuckled, but he was unable to hold back the groan that lodged in his throat. He could feel your clit pulsing through your underwear. 

“Take it off, baby,” you gestured down to Art, who scrambled to take your dress off, throwing it carelessly to the side once it was over your head. Both the boys nearly busted on the spot, because instead of being greeted with a black, lacy bra, your tits simply tumbled out of your dress, perfectly plump and brown and sitting pretty. 

“Oh my god,” Patrick groaned at the sight of your tits above him. He sat up immediately, attaching his mouth immediately to your tits. Art, a whimpering mess by this point, followed quickly, his lips wrapping around your stiff, brown nipple. They both sucked on your tits lasciviously, reserving one for each of them. The lewd sounds of their tongues sucking your plush skin as their hands fondled and squeezed you filled the room. Art was gentle, shifting from reaching a hand underneath your tit and cupping you softly to circling a gentle finger around your nipple. Patrick was more direct, grabbing you with closed hands. 

If you weren’t so turned on, you would honestly giggle at the sight— these two boys who’d been fiending for you for so long, showing you just how long they’d been waiting for this very thing. It was a wonder — the school’s prestigious tennis players who attended every frat party and had enough money to be set for life (Patrick at least), reduced to a melting puddle beneath you. At your beck and call, your mercy, even as the grind of Patrick’s dick against your clit made you soak through the panties. 

You looked down at them with a cunning smile playing on your lips, cupping both their chins softly,

“You’ve been wanting this real bad, haven’t you?”

Two pairs of needy, blissed-out eyes looked up at you immediately, their heads nodding insistently as they moaned around your nipples. You chuckled, your laugh ringing like bells in their ears. You tasted so divine and they hadn’t even tasted you where it really counts. Art decides he wants to get a head start. You felt his hand, his fingers long and spindly, travel down your body, past your soft stomach and down your thigh, until it looped back up to the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, pulling at the stretchy fabric until he let it snap against your waist. 

He pulled away, his lips warm and wet against your ear as he whispered,

“Can I?” 

You bit down on your lip and nodded, gazing at him as he let his hand travel back down until it crept into your panties, never breaking eye contact even as he dipped two fingers against your soaked slit. You trembled at his touch and he smirked, cocking his head gently as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting you on his fingers.

“She tastes so good, Pat, you gotta try,” Art said, leaning down — Patrick, dazed, lifted his head and looked up at Art with glazed-over eyes.

You watched, rendered speechless for the first time that night as Art dipped his fingers back just slightly against you again, and placed them at Patrick’s wanting lips. Patrick sucked the taste of you off Art’s fingers like it was nothing, like he’d done it before and would do it a thousand times more. The sight of him, lifting his head up to meet Art’s fingers, made you stir above him. 

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Patrick practically moaned, his lips hovering at Art’s fingers. He wasn’t even looking at you, still holding Art’s gaze as he dipped his hand into your panties and prodded at your slit, the pad of his finger tapping against all the arousal that’s gathered there, making wet sounds like fat raindrops collecting in a puddle. “She’s so wet already, shit.” He held Art’s gaze for a moment longer before he turned to you. 

“Can we taste you?” Art asked, his voice soft and lilted. 

You lifted yourself off of Patrick’s lap and kneeled between the two of them, taking their shirts off one by one. Art went to take off his cap, You embraced Art in a kiss first, then Patrick, until it was lost on you which was which— it was all a blur, mouths sloppily entangled and meeting in the middle, kissing each other all at once and you were certain Art and Patrick’s lips met more than a few times. Somewhere in the middle, they had pushed you back against the mattress. You whined as their lips suctioned against your body, down down down until they stopped between your thighs.

You couldn’t see whose lips were on you first, but you were sure it was Patrick, the way he dove right in without hesitation and started sucking expertly at your clit. You cried out, your back arching slightly off the bed at the sudden jolt of pleasure from the contact. You saw Patrick’s tuft of black curls right in between your thighs, and Art’s golden-orange locks just beside him, placing chaste kisses on your inner thighs, his hand massaging the plush skin there too. 

Patrick moaned from in between your legs, sending vibrations through your core and up your chest. You relaxed into his touch, pushing his head in and burying your fingers in his curls. He made sure to drag his tongue along every inch of you, pointing it into your slit and thrusting it into you, and flattening his whole tongue against you as he gave kitten licks to your pussy.

His grecian nose poked deliciously against your clit and he used it to his advantage, bobbing his head up and down each time you moaned at the point of contact. He sucked your clit gently with his lips, toyed at your slit with his finger and glanced up at you to gauge your reaction. The moan that fell from your lips as you locked eyes with him from between your legs was almost pornographic, and enough for him to slide one thick finger inside of you. 

You were writhing above him and Art, moaning ever so softly. Your tits were splayed perfectly against your chest and your face was constantly contorted in the sweetest expressions. They’d both imagined you like this, mouth open and eyes rolling back into your head, trapped in bliss. Then another finger, fucking into you deep and slow as he continued lapping up all your arousal, all while Art kissed your thighs with increasing hunger, his once soft kisses becoming wet and crazed. 

“Fuck,” Patrick pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening wet with spit and your arousal. “Art, taste her pussy. Want you to feel what I did to her.”

Art whimpered and assumed position immediately. 

“Wait,” you said, shifting and turning yourself around so you were on your knees, your pussy pulsing right in front of Art’s face while Patrick pulled down his shorts and boxers, wrapping a hand around his shaft and starting to tug slowly, groaning under his breath. Meanwhile, Art’s eyebrows rose up so far he thought they’d get stuck there, his mouth dropping slightly at the sight of your pussy throbbing around nothing, your folds dripping with a mixture of your own arousal and Patrick’s spit. 

You placed your head on the pillow, craning your neck to look back at the two boys. You liked the juxtaposition that was happening — the two of them in full control of your pleasure, while you were granting them the only thing they’d been thinking of for weeks now.

“Oh fuck,” Art whispered to himself, and Patrick chuckled darkly, squeezing the base of his cock. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but their faces in this moment were seared in your mind permanently – Art’s gaze of pure amazement, and Patrick’s wicked smirk snaking across his entire face, glaring down at your pussy. It was enough to make a shiver run down your spine, how readily they consumed you — the feeling of being wanted wasn’t new to you, but with them, it was just… different.  

“Her pussy looks so pretty after it’s been ate, doesn’t it?” Patrick noted to Art, who nodded with a broken whimper before shoving his face into your pussy, his button nose dancing against your clit as he put his tongue to work. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, your head dropping down against the pillow. Art might have been gentler, but that did not mean worse by any means.

If anything, he was passionate, noting every slight movement and sound you made and following in your stead. His tongue lappd against your clit, pleasure climbing up your spine. The new angle had you struggling to keep your legs up, but Patrick was sure to keep you in check.

“This is what you wanted right?” he proclaimed, one hand on your thigh to hold you steady, the other still stroking his cock, a bit faster now. A guttural moan surged from your throat as you nodded weakly. “Yeah? So take it. Take Art’s tongue in your pussy, fuck.”

Patrick looked down, his mouth hanging open as he watched the way Art slurped away. He detached his lips only to slide a finger in, kissing you gently as he fucked his finger into you, slow and deep and relishing the way you stretched over his finger. 

“So fucking warm,” he muttered, talking to your pussy like you and him were the only two in the room. He slipped another finger inside you, which made you cry out, pussy throbbing around his fingers. “There you go, squeeze my fingers.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, delirious. Art was rutting against the bed now, chasing his high along with you, and Patrick’s hand was working overtime on his cock, spreaidng the precum leaking from his tip along the shaft. His hand reached up to smack your ass, groaning at the way it reveberated beneath his touch. 

“You’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

Inadvertently, you started to catch the rhythm of Art’s fingers, throwing your hips back against his fingers and his face. The sight of your ass practically covering Art’s face was almost too much for Patrick to handle — he actually glanced away for a second, hoping he could hold off on his swift-approaching orgasm. 

“Yeah, fuck back onto my face, I want you to use me,” Art moaned, muffled by your thighs wrapped around his head. 

You weren’t sure when it all happened, you just knew that you were moaning both their names as you’re sent over the edge, Patrick and Art deftly following — Patrick in his hands, Art in his jeans, hips stuttering against the bed. You squeezed around Art's fingers as you dripped down onto the bed, soaking Art's tongue and chin. It took a while for all of you to gain some semblance of reality, pushing past the haze of pleasure and smoke and bitter alcohol that you were floating in. 

“Did you come in your jeans?” Patrick’s voice cut through the foggy silence, and Art slapped his chest. 

“Shut up, look what you did to the sheets.”

You were lying on your back, gazing up at the two boys with a sated grin, resting your hands on your stomach. 

“Aren’t you glad we found you?” Patrick teased. 

You didn’t have to answer, he already knew.

i think i’m gonna have a part two for this you guys have no idea how much i was debating whether or not they should fuck in this but i feel like reader is the type to make them wait…  plus it would've actually been a novel if i added that and i wanted to get this out cuz i don't wanna keep y'all waiting!! so when they fuck they'll fuck NYASTY.

[misc-obeyme]

Hihi! <33 I'm here to share a drabble again ;v;

Obey Me with a nerdy!MC who goes above and beyond just to show their appreciation.

Obey Me with a nerdy!MC who compares them to the stars and constellations in the sky.

Obey Me with a nerdy!MC who loves to link certain attributes of the brothers to elements from the periodic table [I saw a fic on this and I was in love]

Obey Me with a nerdy!MC who makes cheesy jokes about their current love like while simultaneously making it look like a standard Lecture.

Obey Me with a nerdy!MC who takes notes of small Angel/Demon habits and overanalyzes them every night to get to know them better.

Obey Me with a nerdy!MC who would learn a whole new subject just so they get to bond over it together.

Obey Me with a nerdy!MC who confesses in a creative lot of ways: from coding a simple game to discreetly hint at Leviathan to using math to express their feelings for Satan. A touch of knowledge on liquor or maybe what's the history of the golden ratio of beauty?

Obey Me with a nerdy!MC who has a thirst for knowledge, but an even deeper hunger for other people's appreciation for it.

I got these ideas while reviewing for my exam that starts tomorrow ;v; Hopefully I'll be able to share and expound more on this after :"))

That's all!^^ Stay safe and healthy whenever and wherever you are :DD

- 🎹

Hey there, 🎹 anon!

Awww I love all of these! I love the idea of MC confessing to Levi by coding it into a game, that's so freakin' cute. Just imagine Levi being like what is this new game on my computer? And then just playing through it and slowly it dawns on him and by the time he gets to the end, he's a blushing mess lol!

Anyway, these are all great ideas, thank you for sharing them with me! Feel free to share more if you would like to!

Good luck on your exam!! Unless it's already over in which case I hope it went well!!

[saynomorefic]

Thank you for the YR drabble event prompts! Feel free to send me more by dropping a song lyric in my ask box, and I'll write you something including / inspired by it for the event ❣️🎹

[jtl07]

What have I done?!? 🥁🎸🎹 This is so, so cool! You wrote the audition like i mini-fic 🤩 Drabble? I don’t know, it was very cool, thank you 👏🏼 And Mary’s comment when she was adjusting the chair, hahaha. Loved the idea with neon colors, what a cool concept 🎨 Who’s the singer of this band? And how would Ava know of their music? Has she seen them live, or is their music out? Maybe it could be combined with your earlier thoughts? That Ava worked in a bar they played, and that’s how she found out about them (and Bea). Does the band have a name? And/or will it change/develop when Ava joins? Thank for taking my questions seriously, this is so much fun 😘

anon oh no, oh no now we're getting into the details aren't we. i'm torn between the band being primarily instrumental (akin to Polyphia) and having guest vocalists every now and then, vs having some hella strong vocalist - i'm thinking like Fuki from Doll$Boxx or omg what if someone like Tatiana Shmayluk from Jinjer?!? yoooo that would be intense. if the latter, then Lilith would be a terrifying analogue oh geez.

okay yknow what, i'm leaning towards instrumental first with guest vocals because i kinda like the idea of them working with different vocalists occasionally, which would be kinda like canon what with how their "front man" / halo bearer changes. but also like, that puts more pressure on each instrument to be on their game (which Beatrice impresses upon Ava when they have their two-day bootcamp).

as for how Ava first heard of them (aside: anon I am the absolute worst at naming things, their band's name is just going to be "the band" for the forseeable future lolol) maybe she happened upon their music online or heard about them somehow - someone playing a cover, someone mentioning them in passing, or maybe someone watching a video on their phone and Ava happens to see - oh that would be amusing if it was JC, yeah, lol okay, maybe JC's also a musician and someone sent him a video of their band but he's not really paying attention to it because it's not his vibe but Ava is enthralled. she goes home, looks up all their stuff, immediately starts playing along and it's difficult and brilliant and it pushes her to the limits of her skill level but she still has the utmost fun and it pushes her to keep learning. she becomes a fan but while she's eaten up every video and interview she could find about them (perhaps she happened upon one of those explainer videos that Beatrice did lol) she hasn't had the chance to see them live because they'd been on hiatus - hence why Beatrice (and Mary though she tries not to show it) are stressed about the upcoming gig, because while it's a small one, it is important to them since it's their first one in a long time.

oh and maybe also they're debuting new music for the first time in a long time at that gig - and maybe, after Ava's proven herself to Mary, they work through the song with Ava and Ava is able to play it perfectly, but then maybe during a break or something she's playing along to the track - not exactly practicing but like casually playing like she does at home alone whenever she listens to their songs, adding stuff here and there - and maybe Mary and Beatrice come back from break early and hear her and Beatrice looks at Mary and is like, "I'll make sure she keeps to what we've written" but Mary forestalls her, steps into the room fully, which catches Ava's attention, who abruptly stops playing and somehow manages to stop the track too without falling over.

"hey boss," Ava says, twirling the drumsticks between her fingers nervously. "that was a uh quick walk."

Mary's face is unreadable still, and she rewinds the track a bit. "do that fill again."

Ava blinks and Mary gives her a look that's like, 'do not make me repeat myself' and Ava scrambles to remember what she did and fumbles.

Mary shakes her head. "no, you did it differently last time." she kinda beatboxes what she remembers and Ava's like, "oh yeah" and repeats it correctly this time and Mary's taking up her bass and is muttering to herself about voicing things differently to match and Beatrice is like, "you want to change it? the performance is the day after tomorrow" and Ava's like, "hey I was just messing around" but Mary looks Ava straight in the eye and says, "it's a good idea. let's use it." then she looks at Beatrice and raises an eyebrow. "two days is more than enough time, right?"

and Beatrice kinda helplessly laughs because of course Mary would get caught up in this, in this energy Ava's brought with her - it's the renewal they've needed; Ava's exactly what they've been looking for.

[meldoesthedraw]

"I mean... it's a bit of a pipe dream, but I'd *really* like to write for TV someday!"

 "You say 'pipe dream', but all I hear is some pretty far out aspirationalism! I believe you could do it, baby."

"You- you think ?" "Absotively! Just don't take 'no' for an answer & you're set!"

---

::Coffee Shop AU Drabble::

Mari ends up rambling about her story ideas as he listens with rapt attention, his friendly, inviting grin never wavering, chuckling heartily into his coffee every now and then as he takes a sip. She's not surprised to hear he's part of a band - by the way he's dressed, she figured it was either that or he drove a motorcycle? Maybe it's both, she thinks, but forgets to ask, because he's scribbling something down on a napkin and sliding it over.

"It's all good if it's not your kind of scene, but if you ever want to come by the club and hear us jam out, this is the place! We play on Tuesdays and Thursdays. First drink's on me!"

If it were any other patron, Marisol would feel skeeved out by the wink he tosses her, but she finds herself smiling back, butterflies fluttering in her chest.

"Thanks! That sounds nice~"

And despite her worries that he might not remember her when she does, she eventually goes to his set a couple weeks later, and he Does remember her. Introduces her to his band mates, who are all very kind and welcoming, each with their own idiosyncrasies - and it's so much fun. More fun than she's had in a while. From then on, she goes to see them once a week and Teeth comes in for coffee at least twice. Every time he visits, Mari absolutely lights up and it seems too soon that he's tipping his hat to her, heading out the door, leaving her giggling over his latest anecdotes, a big tip on the counter despite only having had a coffee or two. She's writing more these days and her head is full of music, golden teeth and golden tones.💖🎶🎹

[aritsukemo]

Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony 💜🔪

Last Updated: Apr. 23, 2024

I'm willing to write for all characters, both romantically and platonically, aside from Korekiyo Shinguji! Feel free to request to your heart's content!

Full Length Fanfic 🎵🎹

Headcanons 🔮❤️🪄

Imagines/Drabbles/Scenarios 💜🎲

Other 🤍🖤

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[judgementdaysunshine]

Send me an emoji and I'll write a drabble

💗 - Love at first sight

🍳 - Cooking together

🎨 - Getting a tattoo

🍎 - Sharing food together

🥺 - First time

🌻 - Emotional honesty

🥹 - Breaking down

🫀 - Feeling one's heartbeat

👥 - Meet cute

😭 - Confronting a biological parent

😔 - Taking a hit for the other

🫢- Slip up

🫧- Taking a bubble bath together

📸 - Polaroid pictures

🧸 - Watching one with their younger siblings, nieces/nephews, or cousins

🪭 - Learning the other's cultural customs and traditions

🐞 - Picnic outside

🎹 - Watching the other play an instrument

🍼 - Finding out one's pregnant

💒 - Wedding

📷 - Recreating photos from back in the day

🗺️ - Traveling across the state together

🍂 - Wearing sweaters after fall starts

🐣 - One watching the other be a parental figure to their child from a previous relationship

🌸 - Gardening together

🍁 - Doing fall traditions together

🪡 - Sewing the other's clothes

👕 - Catching the other wearing one's shirt

🎃 - Watching horror movies

🤭 - Flirting in front of everyone without them knowing

👊 - Helping and teaching the other self defense after an incident

🩹 - Helping heal old wounds

[daisymae-12]

get to know me

I'm a lil late, but thanks for the tags @14carrotghoul @happiness-of-the-pursuit @suseagull04 @heybuddy-drabbles @read-and-write- ❤️ loved reading all your answers!!

name: mae

sign: Capricorn

time: 10:26pm

ok putting the rest under a cut cause I always end up typing more than I expect 😂

favourite band/artist: I love a lot of bands/artists but Troye Sivan is the only one consistently in my spotify wrapped every year so I'll go with him 😂 (he just dropped a new album too which I've had on repeat lately)

last movie: thought it was barbie but just remembered I was watching the little mermaid live action during a few dinners a few weeks ago but never finished it whoops (I will finish it one day)

last show: 911 Lone Star (but only the Tarlos parts 😂) I did promise my friends I would try love is blind but a part of me is regretting that promise because I ceebs 🥲

when I created this blog: a couple of months ago just for RWRB fandom purposes 🌞

other blogs: my original personal blog from 2009 still exists 😬 stopped using it in 2013 though. Made a new one in 2014 for fandom things but stopped using it in 2016 😂 I've also got an art one that I used from 2016-2019 😅 then came back 4 years later to make @rwrbficrecs lmao so yeaaah I've been on tumblr for a while 💀

do I get asks: when there's an ask game going around, but omg there's still some nice day asks haunting me in my inbox, I'm a terrible procrastinator 😭

average hours of sleep: 7-8ish (I use night contacts so the hours I sleep literally dictates how clear my vision is going to be the next day and I hate it when it's blurry so I will always aim for a full nights sleep for that reason only 😂 occasionally I'll sacrifice good vision to read a fanfic late into the night though haha)

instruments: piano 🎹 but the last time I learnt an entire piece was 2009 - my attention span is really shit 😅 it drives my husband mad that when I play it's just parts of songs LOL

him: "what happened to the rest of the song?" me: "don't look at me"

what I’m wearing: pj's (tshirt + shorts)

dream job: artist/illustrator - which tbh is already my usual job (i'm on a year off atm) but it's very hard to make it a financially stable job, I'm just very very lucky that my circumstances allow me to do it at all 😅 So my dream job would be artist with financial stability please 😂 also there was a time I thought I'd love to be a wedding photographer until I did it ONCE and was like "I definitely don't have the stamina for this", so I didn't do it again 😬 I got wet from the rain, my cameras got wet, I was hungry as fuck, everything just hurt and it was very stressful 😂 big respect to wedding photographers LOL That was fun way to procrastinate 😂 I'm late so not sure who's already done this. love learning more about people, but no pressure as always: @myheartalivewrites @celeritas2997 @dot524 @gwiazdziarka @darwinsfinchesx @raysletters @cha-melodius @cultofsappho @rmd-writes @littlemisskittentoes @affectionatelyrs @pragmatic-optimist @lizzie-bennetdarcy @tintagel-or-cockleshells

[sonicboomseason3]

🐚🎹🎮

The whole gang :D (Sonic, tails, knuckles, Amy, sticks, shadow)

ask game: send me AT LEAST 3 emojis (the more random the better) and AT LEAST 2 characters from sonic boom and i’ll come up with a little drabble mini story in response!

On this particular Friday night, Team Sonic and Shadow for some reason are all sitting around Amy's house playing a kart racing game on her television. Given that the game only allows for a maximum of four players at once, Sonic, Tails, Sticks, and Shadow are currently in possession of the controllers, while Amy sits off to the side watching the race unfold in earnest. Knuckles, meanwhile, has opted to leave his place on the couch to play Für Princess Elise on Amy's piano to pass the time. And to provide some horribly unfitting background music that clashes heavily with the game's OST.

"I still don't understand why you lot are forcing me to play this pathetic game alongside you," Shadow says as he passes Sonic, much to the latter's frustration.

Sonic groans at both the loss of his spot in first place and Shadow's obstinacy. "Shadow, for the last time, us asking if you wanted to join us for Game Night, and you saying you had a million better things to do before showing up anyway isn't called forcing you. Now quit making stuff up."

"Yeah, not cool, Shadow!" Knuckles calls out from his place at the piano as he continues playing. "I bet you're the type who makes fake callouts for people on social media!"

"Not surprising. I'm telling you guys he's secretly some alien-hedgehog hybrid thing bent on ruining the rest of us in every way imaginable, starting with our online reputations," Sticks remarks as she picks up an item box. She grins maniacally when she realizes which power-up she now has at her disposal. "And someone like that doesn't deserve to be in first place! Take this, ya filthy stinker!"

Shadow snarls when the spiny blue shell comes down on his motorbike, stunning his character long enough for the other three to overtake him and then some. He barely even notices Knuckles abruptly playing an off-key scare chord before resuming his classical music without missing a beat. "I will personally make sure your end is slow and agonizing, waste of space masquerading as a badger."

"Wow. Barely three hundred words in and Shadow's already threatening to kill off one of my teammates," Sonic deadpans, picking up an item box. "Why are our fans so hung up on him becoming our sixth member again?"

"Sonic, don't pretend like you haven't thought about it yourself," Amy reprimands. "You said once, and I quote, 'He'd make a great addition to Team Sonic.'"

"Amy, why would you say that out loud when he's right here?!" Sonic complains. The sound of Shadow's derisive snort is all it takes for him to toss his red shell behind him, hoping that it makes its way past Tails and Sticks and hits this jerk in his (character's) dumb face. "I said he'd be good if he wasn't such a hard case!"

"I'm not a hard case, Blue Boy. I simply find no merit in joining a team named after you. Makes me sick just thinking about it."

"The fact that you can't even admit that you're here right now out of your own free will is literally the definition of being a hard case, dude."

"Whatever. Once I defeat you at this wretched excuse of a racing game—" Sonic's red shell finally comes around the corner, and Shadow expertly dodges it. "—I will ensure the same fate befalls you in real life."

"Yeah, maybe say that when you're not in sixth place and I'm not in first."

Shadow's expression darkens again at the reminder of his current placement and the reason behind it. "That is not my fault. It's your idiot badger friend's for unleashing her equally idiot shell on me."

Sticks huffs. "Rude. What was I supposed to do with it then, not use it?"

"Ignore him, Sticks. He's only salty because he just found out that he's bad at gaming."

"Ooh, here we go," Knuckles mutters under his breath as he switches from Beetleoven to some generic tense-sounding music. You know, the kind that plays when a fight is about to break out.

Small cracks begin forming at the edges of the buttons of Shadow's controller as he begins to press them a little too hard. "Huh? Care to run that by me aga—"

"Okay, we're not doing this. You guys stop it right now," Amy commands, a certain edge creeping into her voice. Sonic and Shadow will not be ruining Game Night… or her house. "That includes you, Knuckles."

Knuckles immediately goes back to what he was playing before. "Sorry."

To Sonic and Shadow's (especially Shadow's) credit, they both fall silent. No one says anything as the race moves on to the final lap. Shadow passes the two NPCs in front of him. Sonic maintains his lead. Shadow picks up an item box as he passes Sticks. So does Sticks as she falls into fourth. Sonic continues to maintain his lead. And then—

"Sonic, I'm making you pay for your disrespect by crushing the annoying fox into the dirt."

Right as Shadow is about to pass Tails, he activates his Mega Mushroom power-up, making his character grow three sizes bigger. He stays true to his word and runs over Tails's kart, settling into his newly obtained spot in second place.

Knuckles plays another scare chord to punctuate Shadow's hit-and-run.

"Oh, come on, I've been minding my own business all race!" Tails shouts, dismayed at his reduced speed. "Why am I getting punished for what Sonic said?!"

"Seriously, Shadow, can you stop taking your anger out on my friends every time you have beef with me? It's not fair, clever, or even funny—"

"Heads up, Sonic!"

Sonic's jaw drops when Sticks ambushes him with another blue shell right when he's about to cross the finish line.

Scare chord.

"Sticks, how in the heck are you getting all these blue shells?!" he demands to know, feeling utterly betrayed as Shadow zooms right by him and even more so when he cinches his victory on that stupid bike of his.

"I dunno!" Sticks says cheerfully over Shadow's laughter. She passes the still flattened Tails and immobile Sonic within seconds of each other, effectively nabbing the runner-up spot. "I just didn't want Shadow to stay mad at me."

"Great, you guys are just about done! Perfect timing, too," Knuckles says as he finishes his song, standing up and walking over. "Finish the race and gimme the controller, Tails."

Tails and Sonic exchange a look as they finally recover and pass the finish line, getting third and fourth respectively. Sonic slumps in his seat and holds his controller out for Amy to take. Tails sighs and hands his over to Knuckles.

"Oh, don't be so upset, Sonic," Shadow says smugly. "No one can help it if you're bad at gaming."

Shadow is so not invited back next time.

[vagevurig]

//fills out this questionnaire for @sonic-oc-showdown

featuring Lily being a GREMLIN

Name: Lilium "Lily" Gale (born as Lilium Ludmore Tenebris) Species: Wolf (Albino) Type: I usually assign her Flight. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (on a good day) Home: Some midwestern corn town that likely has an eldritch entity hiding in the corn. You know the sort.

rest under the cut

✨ How did you come up with the OC's name?

I originally named her "Moonlight" (bcs she was very moonthemed), and eventually gave her the nickname "Lilly". During a multitude of character revisions (all within like 2 years of making her), I dropped her original full name, as well as one the L's. Her current full name, "Lilium", comes from the Elfen Lied OP |D

🌼 How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

She's 20/21 ish~ Her birthday is on June 29th, but I keep her age pretty static rn.

🌺 Do they have any love interest(s)?

SHE IS HARCORE SHIPPED WITH @darthsammi's NICKI CASSIDY! THEY ARE DISASTER LESBIANS WHO FUCK SHIT UP TOGETHER AND I LOVE THEM!!

(art by @xmooncanary)

🍕 What is their favorite food?

Hot Dogs! Which is actually based on me lmao,

💼 What do they do for a living?

She doesn't currently have a job, but she aspires to be a published author!

🎹 Do they have any hobbies?

Beyond writing, she's also just a general consumer of pop culture (books, movies/shows, games), researches ancient forbidden texts, and is super into freestyle parkour~ She also collects bugs, and octopus/squid/jellyfish plushies

🎯 What do they do best?

BEING AN IDIOT (She's also very intelligent and analytical, but her absolute idiocy often outshines it)

🥊 What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

I feel like i described her loves two questions ago, though she does really like vibin w/ Nicki. drabbling down some story ideas while Nicki plays some chords on her guitar. She quite dislikes having to do anything with her biological family though. Not for any reason to do with them, she just doesnt know them?? And she's annoyed by suddenly having to reconnect with them. It's to figure out why she suddenly has Shadow Powers:tm:

❤️ What is one of your OC's best memories?

Once when she was twelve, a friend mentioned that she taught there was a monster in the corn fields. Lily, 0 fear and Super Interested in monsters, went in to look for it. And she found it! And though she doesnt remember much of it afterwards, she holds it as her bestest memory.

✂️ What is one of your OC's worst memories?

She has 0 control over her Shadow Powers and during a particularly dark night (new moon), she got stuck in an intangible shadow person form. Unable to be heard or seen by anyone else, it was the most isolated she had ever felt in her life. It is probably the one and only time she had a panic attack.

🧊 Is their current design the first one?

HAHAHAHAHAH n o. I change Lily's design like a girl changes clothes. I barely ever drew her the same to begin with, and overal she's gone through a few major redesigns, and plenty of smaller ones.

Little timeline! not every stage is represented, but it the major redesigns at least!

🍀 What originally inspired the OC?

Believe it or not; a dream. It was a weird ass dream not at all related to Sonic but it featured a sort of moon spirit and my brain was just "I like her" and tried bringing her to the waking world with limited success.

🌂 What genre do they belong in?

Adventure crossed with cosmic and gothic horror? I dont limit myself |D

💚 What is your OC's gender identity and sexuality?

Demigirl, Bisexual

🙌 How many siblings does your OC have?

She has one older foster sister (Swinde) she absolutely loves with her whole heart, as well as 3 biological siblings (1 older; Jillian, and 2 younger; Hilja & Eiju) who she barely knows.

🍎 What is the OC's relationship w/ their parents like?

She has an absolutely Wonderful relationship with her foster mom Lauren, but is more estranged to her biological father, which doesnt become much better :)

🧠 What do you like most about the OC?

everything. She's one of my oldest characters and is one of a few who comforts me when i feel down so. comfort character.

✏️ How often do you draw/write about the OC?

I do NOT draw her enough, and i really aught to change that, but I talk alot about her with aforementioned Darth Sammi!! I hope that counts |D?

💎 Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

I can kill her off I have killed her off before and I will kill her off again in the future :)

💀 Does your OC have any phobias?

Phobias require someone to feel fear at all~ //SLAPPED (She deeply fears fading from existence)

🍩 Who is your OC's arch-nemesis/rival?

She doesnt really have a set one!

🎓 How long have you had the OC?

I made her in February of 2012, when I was 11, so that's 11 years and a few months now. oh man, Lily is almost older now than I was when i made her wack...

[09lover]

Kris and I are collaborating on a tourney~ 🎹

Beans writes drabbles. I have maybe four requests to my name.

Nott is the Amane blogger.

oooo… what tourney may i continue asking about??:D ahhh i see okay now theyre more familiarSNFJEJFNS my bad.. still cant guess who you are tho…

[pan-flute-skeleton]

🎹, 🍀, 🧠, ✏️ for Jules for the OC ask!

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

He picked up the drums in another story. Contradictory to his dad's position in the band. Jules has been known to play video games in his mom's apartment, but got too busy to play. He likes GTA. Does messing with people count as a hobby?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

One day I was like "where are all the Nathan kids at?" Because Skwisgaar couldn't be the only one who fathered a sea of bastards. I liked the idea of Nathan fathering just as many kids and he's a character I don't write for very often.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

I like that he's obnoxious. Most of my characters are more subdued so its really a nice stretch to write a menace. But I also like that he has a heart. He's not stealing from Mordhaus just because. He has a goal and he has morals. Even still, he's a kid who hasn't experienced the world yet. So he still has a sliver of innocence to him.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Quite. His main story is almost done and I have some drabbles written and waiting to be written. In total, Jules has over 16k words written about him and his journey.

List

[blueeandyellowmakesgreen]

jade I 20+ I she/her I ❤️💙💜 I mainly a byler blog with little st stuff/analyses on the side

other notable fandoms

gilligouldverse (better call saul 👔, breaking bad ⚗️)

ace attorney/the great ace attorney⚖️

musicals🎵 (favorites: hadestown, great comet, poto, heathers, six, chicago)

arcane 💣

heartstopper 🌼

succession 📊🏢

main tags:

#byler 💙💛 (obviously for byler stuff and my original post tag)

#writing 📝(for my self indulgent drabbles)

#apocalypse byler 🪓🔫(for my series of byler scenarios or ficlets dedicated to byler with the apocalypse as the setting)

#fave 💫 (mostly byler proof, but just stuff i rly enjoy

others

my mike playlist 💙🎹

💼🏢succession live blog tag: #jade watches succession

thank you for stopping by and i hope you enjoy it here!

[whump-me]

🍏🎹🩸

From this ask game

🍏 - How do you get inspiration for whump?

I answered this one in the previous ask, but I'll add that if my current scenarios are feeling stale, I'll sometimes go through the drabbles and prompts on here specifically looking for new whump-daydream fodder.

🎹 - Do you utilize whump to sleep?

Yes. Always have. And until recently, I had no idea falling asleep to whump was something so many other people did.

🩸 - What's a least favorite whump trope of yours?

I'm not interested in a totally compliant pet. (I'm not really into most pet whump in general, to be honest.) I don't need the whumpee to be fighting all the time--fear is a good thing, and so is a healthy sense of self-preservation--but a lot of what interests me is the psychological push and pull between whumper and whumpee, a kind of adversarial intimacy. When the whumpee doesn't even want to resist anymore, that dynamic disappears.