I used to be a camp counselor and I just know James is the exact kind of guy the little kids would fight to sit next to at activities. And! He tells the most dramatic campfire stories
Hi! I realize this wasn't really a request but it gave me an idea, so thank you lovely!
camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 751 words
“Then,” James says in a low, solemn voice, “Timmy heard the monster getting louder. Do you know what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?”
All around you, campers sit with bated breath. When the last counselor to go had told her story, they’d all been whispering to each other, giggling and messing around as they tend to do whenever anyone is speaking. Anyone except James, apparently.
“Timmy ran to the only place left to hide.” He walks slowly around the logs you and the kids sit on as he talks, the orange glow of the fire casting his face in a merry hue despite his foreboding tone. You can tell he’s trying his best to play the part, and James isn’t the worst actor in the world, but anytime he looks at one of the kids’ faces the twitching of his lips betrays him.
He crouches next to an apprehensive-looking girl and says to her, “He squeezed into the closet in the basement and made himself as small as he could. Just like that.” James pokes the girl’s curled up form teasingly, drawing a smile out of her. His lips twitch again.
“For a minute,” he stands, beginning to circle again, “it was quiet. Then, Timmy heard the monster coming down the stairs.” James stomps his feet on the dirt, making dull thudding sounds that have you smiling and your camper next to you gripping your arm apprehensively. “The monster got closer and closer. Timmy was trapped.”
James is nearly behind you, and the girl holding your arm whispers, “Does the monster live close to here?”
“No, no.” You keep your voice low, bending your head towards hers with your most reassuring smile. “This monster’s all the way in Florida. Don’t worry.”
“And when Timmy could hear the monster’s breath just outside the closet,” James goes on, though you’re not really paying attention, more focussed on comforting the poor girl beside you, “it asked again, Do you KNOW—” His voice rises to a shout, and big hands grab your waist, making you squeak loudly. James’ hold is the only thing that keeps you from flinching fully out of your seat, and you can hear him snickering quietly behind you as the kids erupt in laughter.
“Do you know,” he tries again, amusement coating his tone, “what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?”
He lowers himself onto his haunches, speaking to the girl next to you. “And do you want to guess what Timmy said?” he asks her, both hands still on your waist.
She shakes her head, giggling.
“Well, he said no, obviously.” James grins as if this is a joke you’re all in on together. “How would he know? So the monster said, I’ll show you.”
James gives your waist a teasing squeeze as he lets you go, but his face smooths into seriousness again, one hand coming slowly up to his mouth. The kids near you are craning their necks to see him.
Lightning quick, James sticks a finger in front of his lips, flapping up and down as he blows out and makes a vibrating sound.
The silence breaks as the kids either laugh or boo or a mix of both, one of James’ campers shouting, “That wasn’t even scary!”
“It was too!” James feigns offense, setting a hand on your head and banding his forearm across your collar protectively. “Don’t say that, you’ll make y/n feel bad. Poor love,” he says sympathetically, resting his head on your shoulder, “she was really terrified.”
“Did you pee yourself?” one of the campers near you asks. You turn to her, making a silly face.
“I think maybe a little,” you whisper loudly, causing the kids to devolve into giggles again.
“Oh, ew.” James makes a show of removing his hands from you and wiping them on the back of your shirt. The campers eat it up, your small clearing in the woods a cacophony of laughter and cricket sounds. You catch some of the other counselors rolling their eyes, some exchanging knowing smiles.
“Well, I suppose that’s fair enough,” James goes on. “I nearly peed myself, too, when I thought you were going to fall off your log there.” He shoots you one of his winning smiles. “Good thing you had me to catch you, yeah?”
You feel your face warm, and you’re grateful for the glow of the campfire as cover. “Mhm,” you say, “good thing.”
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“Oh, breathe, just breathe…”
“'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable. And life's like an hourglass glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button, girl. So cradle your head in your hands and breathe, just breathe…” (“Breathe (2AM)” by Anna Nalick)
Sometimes, you just have to accept, that there are things, that can’t be changed or fixed anymore…at least not right now. I guess, I’m more and more coming to terms with this insight, considering the fact, that it just doesn’t make sense to wrap my head around the reason for my disease ME/CFS.
I can’t alter my previous decisions. For the past two years, I’ve blamed myself for catching Covid on an Open Air concert of my German favourite punk rock band “Die Ärzte”…especially viewed in the context that I avoided social gatherings since late 2019 because of my medicinal immune suppression. But when I got these tickets as a gift in 2022, my brain must have shut down and I started to belittle the potential risks of catching the virus by telling myself, that I would stand in the back of the crowd, beneath the open sky. This was also the first occasion, when I didn’t wear my mask…after enduring being bullied and mocked for wearing masks everywhere and rejecting every single invitation to parties and simple get-togethers.
Well…only one week later, my life- as I knew it before - came to an abrupt halt. I don’t want to go into detail about my current situation in this post. Whoever knows me and also my prior posts, is probably already fed up with my complaints about ME/CFS and its results for my life.
So, all I can do now, is to breathe. Deliberately slowly…breathing in…and breathing out. Calming my nerves…soothing my troubled mind with my fantasies of Severus and my absolutely self-inserted OC Jules…
I’ve commissioned someone new for this project. Someone different from all those lovely artists of Snapedom, who I regularly contacted for my usual coping mechanism of commissioning artworks of Sevy and Jules.
This time, I reached out to @pinklovecharm, an incredibly kind and understanding artist, who made me speechless with this drawing. I asked her to help my imagination of Severus and Jules, being on a walk in the forest, come to life.
I can’t tell you, how much I’m missing this simple activity of enjoying the autumn sunshine and some fresh air on a walk in the woods. In my fantasy, Severus would apparate us to a secluded path in the middle of the forest, wrapping his arm around my waist to support my steps. We wouldn’t talk much…but Severus would remind me of the importance of breathing…and he would exercise it with me…patiently waiting for me to eventually calm down. He’s my safe haven…my home.
My dear Sadie, you can’t imagine, how much you soothed my soul with your mesmerising art and your kind-heartedness. You really achieved to put me into my OC Jules…with all her emotions and physical attributes….and you even integrated my cane into your drawing! Normally, I don’t show my reference pictures publicly, but I’m too impressed by your dedication to the details of my appearance, that I can’t stop myself from presenting them here. Thank you for everything, you wonderful person! I hope, we’ll stay in touch and that I may commission you again.
🖤Severus & Julia🖤
🖤Sevy and Jules🖤
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I should have known if I brought up wc I’d have to talk about. But it includes of a lot of issues with feral/furry designs that use feathers in hair. I don’t necessarily know why the conversation only started and stayed in the wc fandom when horse/wolf/lion feral fandoms are still doing the same thing.
Now having feathers in the design isn’t a racial attack first thing off because there’s a lot of context around what feather’s are used, the shape, and where they are placed. If the look is anything like "rave Coachella looking tribal fantasy feathers and beads" it’s probably insensitive. I’m not to sure why it has to be feathers, I honestly think the wc fandom are holding themselves back when it comes to forwarding designs in a unique way. Tail feathers are also left out in this conversation as well, one or two feathers or feathers in the shape of a birds tail are fine but bunched together feathers are leaning to close to how we have our horses wear feathers. This is in the context of the design already looking like a "medicine cat" already its bad. it’s like those yt girls wear feather head bands but animal addition.
I’ve talked about this before but silhouettes are so important, like Native American stereotypes are on the global scale you cannot escape this silhouette you just have to avoid it. There’s no "but it’s in so many other cultures" no it’s not it’s totally unique to our people that’s why people flock to it because it’s so "mysterious, sacred" whatever their weird twisted up reason is. There’s so many unique ways to break this silhouette you just gotta be more creative. And I feel like instead of being more creative and coming up with totally different ideas it’s just easier to lean on these visual native stereotypes to get across "wild mythical nature fantasy"
I could get into the horse fandom and the weird situations they’re doing over there but that’s another crazy thing. I should say because someone will ask, ostrich feathers on like show horses or knights or puss in boots style is fine not the same thing (breaking the silhouette) they’re not related.
And it comes down to understanding what you are drawing and where this imagery comes from, I’m not gonna get my feelings hurt because of your design but I’ll question why are you drawing stuff like that. You cant remove that cultural/stereotypical imagery, and if you don’t care about it then you don’t care about the history or how it looks on your character and art.
I made it this far on the internet but if you want to be conscious about these things good on yea it doesn’t take much☺️👍
Edit: can’t believe I gotta say this but yes other cultures utilize feathers, if people are using feathers that are used in their culture then don’t harass them. That’s weird have some common sense. Ostrich feathers, peacock feathers it’s actually so interesting how native birds to an area affect the culture there.
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"Pull On It. Harder."
Synopsis. He liked to wear that little black hair tie everywhere. Why? Oh, it just reminds him of the way you tie his hair into a pretty lil’ ponytail - all while he's tonguefúcking you to insanity.
Pairings. Multiple x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cunnilingus, rough oral (female receiving), unprotected, overstim, slightly long haired! boys, they’re just a bit mean here, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.
Word count. 1.2k
A/N. I love long haired men and no one can do anything ab it.
He’s never seen without that little black hair tie around his wrist.
He likes to take it with him, thumbing that red imprint on his skin whenever he misses you. It makes him think of how he’d run his hands through your hair at night. Or how you’d intertwine your fingers with his when out on dates.
And, of course, how you’d gather his locks and tie it into a pretty little ponytail while he tonguefucks you into insanity.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Barely even touched you and already so wet f’me.”
Nose-deep in your pussy, his bangs partially cover his heavenly view of you - spread underneath him, thighs trembling and cunt dripping all over his freshly cleaned bed sheets. Good, he thinks deliriously, preferring your scent to the overly artificial softener anyway.
He isn’t too worried, though, knowing you’ll work your magic with his hair soon enough. Soon.
“Soon” happens to be when he’s pooling your sweet juices on his lips. Relentless tongue dipping in and out of your quivering hole at a maddening pace. In and out in and out in and-
“Oh, fuck, baby- Hngh- faster, fucking me on your tongue s’good.” Hips bucking up into his hot mouth for more more more. Making out heatedly with your pussy with the urgency of a madman. Stray strands sticking to his forehead, he looks up at you through half-lidded, absolutely feral eyes that devour you almost as much as the mouth on your cunt - soon.
Tongue bullying past your swollen folds, crooking just right to fuck you on it the way he needed to with his throbbing cock. “Yeah, just like that.” you moan deliriously.
His hair tie digs into his skin, as well as yours, as he forces your thighs on his shoulders, reaching to draw tight, little circles on your needy clit. Methodical, and purposeful.
He knew you were close when you reached down to urgently cup his head, bunching those silky locks in two trembling hands. Ever the gentleman - his hand expertly leaves its bruising grip spreading your thighs so shamefully open. Letting you all but rip off the hair tie off it.
Shaky fingers running through his locks, his breath hitches so deliciously as you hastily secure his soft strands into a small, loose ponytail. Movements urgent and as jerky as the snap of that small hair tie.
Ah, there he was - you could cum just from seeing the absolutely feral look on his face. It should be a crime for those beautiful features to be covered by anything other than your dripping cunt.
A predatory grin tugs at his lips against your swollen ones as you finish tying the small band. Ah, now he can really get into it. Your back arches, using the ponytail as leverage to demand more. Need more as he makes out with your pussy with newfound vigor.
Nails digging into his scalp, searing with your grip. You know he doesn’t mind - in fact, he even leans into your touch with a guttural groan, swallowing hard as he drives his tongue deeper into you.
It’s messy - both the ponytail and the way he speeds up maddeningly, your slick smearing across his pretty face, trailing down to the sheets below. Tongue continuing its relentless abuse - over and over and-
At a merciless rhythm that has the bed creaking and you whining in pleasure - the neighbors were sure to file another noise complaint. Annoying old fuckers, should give them a real show.
His breaths are almost as ragged as yours now - because fuck oxygen, he wanted to see his pretty girl fall apart on his tongue. A munch - as you liked to often joke - with no care in the world for anything other than making you cum hard enough to see stars.
“Fuck, baby- m’gonna- m’gonna hngh-”
And not only do you see stars, you probably see the pearly gates of heaven as you cum on his mouth. Convulsing and hips rutting up to ride out your high on his pretty face. Eyes dazed, lips swollen and absolutely pussy-drunk.
That sinful glint in his eyes stays as he pulls away, an obscene trail of saliva and your slick connecting your lips to his chin. Cheeks flushed so deceivingly innocently, strands of silky hair falling out of that disheveled ponytail. A true masterpiece.
He watched you intently, drinking in every dip and curve. Breathtaking, absolutely breathtaking.
But the games are over now.
“Spread them f’me, sweetheart.”
Looming over you, eyes burning with raw desire. Cock throbbing and leaking delicate beads of precum as he positions himself, furiously flushed tip nudging your sloppy hold. He pumps himself. Once. Twice. Being merciful enough to give you a second of respite.
Without warning, he surges forward. Bullying his thick cock into your snug cunt in one, swift thrust. Not stopping till he’s all the way. His lips crush against yours, stifling your cry of pain and pleasure at finally getting what he’s been teasing you with for so long.
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your dripping cunt. Nails raking down his sculpted back as he starts up a feral, unforgiving pace. Each ram of his cock into your cunt erratic, hitting your cervix and pulsing against that one spot deliberately. Again. And again. Like a madman possessed.
“Baby- Hngh-” you whine sinfully, hips bucking wildly against to meet his almost-animalistic cadence, reaching out a shaky arm towards him. He knows what that means. How could he not?
Holding your hungry gaze as he leans down, sweaty forehead meeting yours. One hand cradles your face, while the other hooks a finger underneath that godforsaken hair tie and pulls. Letting the ponytail - that at this point could barely even be called one - fall apart, just as you were underneath him.
Eyes glassy and dazed, soft little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. The only thing behind those pretty eyes being him and the big cock stuffing you full. So close to cumming.
Bangs partially covering the sinful view that was you - but right now, he didn’t care. Not when you’re snaking a hand up to his locks and pulling. Hard.
“Yeah, just like that. Pull on it. Harder.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat as he lets you continue your little ministrations, tugging on his hair especially hard when he purposefully misses that little spot he knew drove you wild. Over and over.
Now, he doesn’t want to sound like a masochist - his friends would probably laugh their asses off at that - it’s just it hurts so good when it’s you.
Which is why, two strong hands rest above your head, fingers lacing, pushing you down down down impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock. You keen in response, “Ah! Hngh- oh, baby jus’ like that. M’gonna cum.”
Ha, as if he’d be that nice.
Pulling out in one, fluid motion, he relishes in your disappointed whine at the sudden disappointment. Taking the opportunity to gather your hair in his fists, fingers deftly forming a makeshift ponytail with a snap! of that little hair tie.
Leaning down to whisper in your ear, voice gravelly and hot against your ear. “Not yet. Suck on my cock without this ponytail falling apart, sweetheart. Then we’ll see about that orgasm, hm?”
Because you love to see his face.
And, of course, he loves to see yours.
- GETO, CHOSO, GOJO, Kuroo, KENMA, Sakusa, EREN, Jean
A/N. I’m ngl this is very much self-indulgent pls.
Plagiarism not authorized.
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