#hope u like it anon

[sanayeon]

MOMO — MISAMO Japan Dome Tour 2024 "Haute Couture" Requested by anonymous

[arcanegifs]

Arcane Gif Requests: Anon ↳ "Sweetheart, I was real sad to hear about Vander. And the kids. Just terrible. A few tried but Silco's got the muscle… and the money. He took over the Last Drop. Things have changed without Vander looking out for us."

[bonnibelette]

Cultcom realicide as a beautiful fem.. something something butch Darwinist doomed wlw situationship

i like the way u think anon….,,

[cherrysmokesaconha]

DRAW DOGUARDOOOO

He was...., lowkey hard to draw.

How tf do I make this little guy in 2004 ew style??????????

[c10v3r]

Can you draw tissues chillin with records? :3

do u think hes listening to the gummy bear album in stores on november thirteenth with lots of videos , movies and extras?

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[kooqitas]

Hello! For your prompt ideas, can you do #6 with Seungkwan? I really think he fits the bestfriends to lovers trope 😍

hiiiiiiiii!!!!! here <33

i hope u like it and YES he fits a lot, god i want one seungkwan :(

[buckxtommy]

flying lessons

@sunglassesmish made me think ab tommy w a chain & rings also, so here u go <3)

[ghiblin]

creatures in MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO となりのトトロ 1988, dir. Hayao Miyazaki

[tojisun]

thinking about biker! simon going out with his girl and the other guys at a biker bar. reader hasn't really seen how scared people are of simon - who they all call ghost - until she goes to get him another drink. while she's at the bar, a guy comes over trying to hit on her. then this hulking, 6'4 guy in a skull mask appears and the guy is ready to run out of the bar. simon didn't even have to talk just glare. while readers like ???

ITS BEEN YEARS SINCE THIS WAS SENT IM SORRY FOR JUST REPLYING NOW :(( BUT YES ABSOLUTELY YES!! my stomach swooped when i saw this hhhhh im actually kicking my legs n twirling my hair n everythingg!!

naturally, im bad at making drabbles because this turned out long again :’) im sorry

biker!simon mlist // star divider by @/plutism <33

simon’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he leads you further into the bar. you shuffle along his languid steps, head swivelling as you try to find familiar faces in the crowd – so far, none yet.

simon chuckles from beside you, and you peer up at him only to see his eyes crinkled from underneath his balaclava, no doubt smiling at you. he bows his head closer towards yours, trying, in vain, to devour as much of the space made by the height difference between you two.

“what?”

“nothin’, sweet girl.” he presses his covered lips on the top of your head, breathing you in. “come on, i see ‘em.”

he shifts the two of you, the hand that’s settled on the small of your back gliding until it hooks around your waist, pulling you ever so closer to him. protective. possessive. it makes you hum in delight, happiness thrumming underneath your skin.

(you don’t notice the way many people shift to get out of simon’s way; heads downturned as though afraid of even meeting his eyes. you don’t notice the way they turn to each other when you two passed by, as though making sure that it was simon they saw. simon – ghost – with a sweet darling pressed to his side, his bulk warding away stray gazes. you don’t notice the way they huddle with each other, whispering promises that ghost’s girl should always be protected. because yes they fear ghost, but more than that, loyalty to each other is stronger.)

he leads you towards a small pack by the far side, the table doused less in light than the rest of the bar. johnny’s already turned towards you and simon, watching with a grin as you two make it across. kyle’s seated beside him, the younger man leaned to watch the ongoing hockey game. then you see the back of john’s familiar head, his beloved boonie slung around his neck.

“finally made it, huh lass?” johnny says in greeting, snagging the attention of both kyle and john, the two of them chiming in their own hello’s. you smile, waving at them as you claim the empty seat between simon and john.

“had to make a quick stop at 7-11,” simon responds, his hand curling at one of the legs of your chair before pulling you towards him. the metal squeaks against the tiles, the sound thankfully drowned out by the loud bass.

“oh did you?” john asks, ignoring whatever simon did given how they’re all so used to his soft displays of possessiveness. he offers you a smile when you turn to him with a nod.

“had to buy, um, medicine for my stomachache.”

it’s endearing how their faces shift so fast, little smiles falling as worry takes over. even simon, whose hand is draped on your thigh, tenses, gripping as though he was remembering how he heard your pained whimper or saw you sniffling as the ache echoed, throbbing just below your ribs, choking you up.

“are you feeling any better? did it subside now, at least?” kyle asks.

you nod, quick to reassure them. “the medicine worked! i’m feelin’ better, i promise!”

they relax, tensed shoulders going lax as life flutters back into the table. you smile before sinking ever so closer to simon’s side, shying away from the intensity of their affections for you – your own little band of brotherhood, visceral in the way they care for you.

simon’s grip loosens on your thigh, choosing instead to massage the muscle tenderly. you hum, turning to ask him what he’s getting.

“whiskey, maybe,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by his mask. “you getting your bellini today, love?”

“yes please,” you reply, blinking up at him.

his eyes crinkle again, a telltale sign of his smile, before he pats your thigh and gets up to place the order.

you turn to the group, tuning into johnny’s rambling, listening to him recounting his rally. it was the one you weren’t able to go to because of work, johnny having to reassure you multiple times (even through text) that it’s fine that you’re missing it. so you listened, enraptured, nose scrunching in confusion whenever johnny slips into heavy scottish in his excitement.

“english, mactavish,” simon sighs as he falls back to his seat, startling you. you see johnny flip him off and you make eye contact with kyle, sharing twin looks of exasperation.

simon slides you your bellini and you whisper a thanks, trilling when he noses the top of your head again – your clingy boy.

the conversation rises and falls, sometimes leaving your mind wandering when they start talking about shop, sometimes catching your attention so much that you find yourself leaning on the table, breathless and wide-eyed as you listen to their bike stories – johnny had continued about his rally, kyle talked about the repairs he did for a client who he’s sure is on the run, and john shared that horrifying experience he had on his way home where he thinks he saw a floating woman by the east side highway.

“your turn, big guy,” you say, tapping simon’s knee.

simon finishes his whiskey – his balaclava tugged just enough to show his chin and his lips – before plopping the empty glass on the table with a sigh. you huff a fond laugh, knowing that one glass isn’t enough to satiate the thirst so you dust imaginary dirt off your skirt before standing up.

he tilts his head up in question, arm still hooked around your waist.

“gonna grab us more drinks,” you say. “oh, tell ‘em about the gas station incident!”

he grunts, nodding, and yet he refuses to budge. you fondly roll your eyes and turn to the others. “drinks?”

they all shake their head, johnny specifically saying he’d have to order for himself because he’d want to try the house specialties. you nod, pinching simon’s arm as you dance away from him with a bitten grin, before making your way to the bar.

you prattle away your order, telling the bartender to add the tab to your table, and hover, swaying to the music. it’s a foreign rock band playing, the bass and drums reverberating loudly, you can feel the vibrations pulsing along your body, and you almost get lost in your own thoughts when a hand slides to your back.

you startle, mind quickly cataloguing that this isn’t simon. because simon, for all his impressive silence and his displays of possessiveness, never sneaks up on you like this. he has never let you doubt your safety while with him. so you back away from the stranger’s touch, your hands pressed close to your chest before finally turning to see who went up to you.

the man, who seems to be about your age, smiles upon seeing your face. “hey there, angel.”

the pet name makes you nauseous and your stomach churns once again. you have to ask for the medicine from simon when you return to the table.

“hi,” you squeak, not letting him off your sight.

“you seem new here. i am too.” he laughs, scratching his neck. then, “it really ain’t my scene.”

“uh-huh,” you say, not knowing what else to tell him.

his chuckles peter out, a suave smile replacing what had been an awkward display of forced laughter. he clears his throat. “so, what’s a sweet thing like you doing alone here?”

“she ain’t alone, kid,” the bartender answers for you and you turn to him, surprised, before thanking him as he presents you with your whiskey and bellini.

the bartender nods to you in reply before crossing his arms in front of his chest and addresses the stranger again. “go bother someone else.”

the man arches a brow in question, his lips pursing in distaste. “oh yeah? she seems pretty available to me.”

the phrase hits you badly.

your anxiousness bleeds away to make room for your ire and you snarl, dropping your hands from where they’re pressed on your chest to rest them on your hips.

“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice a measured anger. “i’m fucking what now?”

he raises his hands up like he’s pacifying you. “hey, hey. didn’t mean that, my pretty girl-”

“she’s not your anything, you mad wanker.”

the sound of simon’s voice makes you settle, a wave of safety and comfort washing over you, dousing the angry churning in the pit in your stomach. simon steps from behind the stranger, towering over him, before moving to stand beside you. his hand hovers, questioning, and you give him a soft nod that gets simon pulling you close to him. his hand falls to the small of your back, caressing, and you wonder if he knows that the man had grazed his hand there just minutes ago. if simon’s doing this to overwrite the unpleasant feeling that was sticking to you.

“oh,” the stranger breathes out and you notice the way his hands are trembling, the tight balls of his fists turning his knuckles white. “i, uh, i’m sorry, ghost.” then he’s off, running out of the bar with his tail tucked between his legs.

you huff at the realization that the mad man didn’t even apologize to you. what a fucking prick.

“you doin’ alright there, baby?” simon asks, pulling you to him. he settles on an empty bar stool – you are sure those were filled just minutes ago… – and tugs you so that you are standing between his legs.

he cups your cheeks, thumbs tracing lines just underneath your eyes, and it makes you drag a shaky inhale.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart. i should’ve accompanied you.” simon sounds distressed, his eyes furrowed in the intensity of his worry.

you coo at him, it’s your turn to cup his jaw this time. “i’m alright, si. i promise.”

he shifts his eyes between yours, searching for anything besides the truth, and he folds himself into you when he sees that you mean it. you laugh, patting at his head, wishing that he doesn’t have his balaclava so you can play with his hair, before turning to the bartender who, in the sudden absence of customers by the counter, is watching you two with a pinched smile.

“thank you again,” you tell him and he grunts, nodding. simon straightens up and groans as he stands, his big body unaccustomed to the tiny bar stools.

“yeah,” he says, addressing the bartender. “thanks for bein’ here for my girl, alex.”

the bartender – alex – just waves his hand around in dismissal. “it’s nothin’, really. now go away, i want customers.”

simon and alex laugh, sharing an inside joke, and you swivel your head around in confusion because now that alex had mentioned it, where did everyone go? and why are they all huddled together, far from the bar?

simon closes his hand on your wrist and pulls. you barely manage a goodbye to alex who waves at you in reply.

…alex?

“wait. that’s alex?”

best believe that simon has connections anywhere he goes. if not for himself, it’s for his girl!!!

me, shamefully staring at the word count (1.8k) of what should’ve been a drabble: well now…

[klaxonsynth]

you should draw snotacon hitting the bong together 💞💞💞💖💖💖

your mind is beautiful anon. i’ve always loved the idea of stoner otacon

[mulderscully]

Still, the cocky shithead part of him is slightly pleased to finally have a claim on Henry.

[kroosluvr]

lookin cool, goro..!!

[jesterferret]

you should totally draw davekat. or just dave. thatd be gangsta /gen

i've been really digging mspaint lately

[cyber333angel]

hey love!! i have an idea:)

rough!rafe fucking you in a dressing room because he thinks you tried on something too revealing

୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

you two would be at the mall, his arm covered in cute little outfits picked out by you as he follows you around. you chose about two more outfits before you decided you wanted to try them on, having rafe come with you into the changing room to hand you the clothes. all of them looked beautiful on you of course but especially in this pink dress. you did a a twirl in the mirror admiring yourself, “rafe what do you think? it’s so cute right?” he nods his head observing his pretty girl, “yes baby you look gorgeous.”

“I can’t wait to wear it out!” you exclaim and rafe jerks his head back, surprised that you think it’s appropriate to wear out.“where would you be going in that? you look beautiful sweetheart trust me but your not wearing that outside the house.” you immediately huff at his response looking at him, very sure that you will change his mind. “you can’t control what I wear rafe, i can buy and wear whatever I want.” your boyfriend scoffs at you and nods his head, “sure you can. but im not fucking buying it so I guess your outta luck huh?” rolling your eyes, “you don’t have to. my other man can buy it for me.” you say this only to piss him off, you both know you have your own money but it’s obvious you just wanna get under his skin. rafe immediately gets ticked off by your snarky comment, getting up from his seat to face you more closely. “ your other man huh?” nodding he says, lifting his hand to grip your throat harshly and leans closer to your ear. “take all this shit off.” and you wince from his hold, slowing nodding your head to show you are complying with him.

..the dress that started this argument was long gone on the floor leaving you in only your bra as he fucked up into you. with his arm around your neck in a headlock preventing any sobs from leaving your mouth as you paw at his elbows. trying to get some balance from the rough position as he plunges into your sloppy cunt, dragging his cock in and out. “you like making me mad? huh baby?” the squelches from your hole were faint sounding over the music at the mall, giving rafe the ability to deliver harsh thrust as a punishment to show you that you don’t talk to him like that. “talking about getting some other man to buy shit for you because i said no?” you shake your head with reason your eyes, only spewing out apologies in your quietest voice. “no m’sorry daddy! i just really liked the dress and wanted to make you get it for me..!”

“yeah you know better then to act like that with me.” he tells you with his hand gripping at your waist. his dick buried deep into your aching cunt as you try to keep your composure and not moan out loud of how good your feel. his hips stutter up into your pussy once more and rafe cums, painting his white liquid all over your walls. “fuck..” he whispers, pulling out of your leaky cunt leaving you confused. “mm rafey I didn’t get to c-cum..!” and he smirks, chuckling to himself. “you think spoiled brats get to cum? with the fuckin tantrum you just had?” you look at him with needy eyes, knowing your lesson now. “said m’sorry already daddy! you know I didn’t mean it..” you pout and plead as you watch rafe observe your face, thinking. he sighs, knowing he can’t resist you when you act like that. “I’ll think about it when we get home so, get your clothes and we’ll go pay for them.“ you brighten up at his response, putting your clothes back on to go pay when you feel his hand sliver up your back. leaning his head close to your ear he tells you, “I’ll get you the fuckin dress but you only wear it when im around. got it?” and you nod your head fast with a grin, happy that you won him over. “mhm thank you rafey!” giving you a peck on the forehead as the both of you leave the dressing room. “yeah whatever kid.”

[hinamie]

someone asked if i had ever drawn gojo with his scars, now i have :>