#i love colored leads sm

[inkz123]

Dodle of @punkuuo's new boi, i lov colored leads ;w;❤️💜

[timegays]

Kermit and Josh groban rivalry is my favorite thing ever

[milkbreadtoast]

tbh i understand eunseo..... cedric is my fav chara but if he was straight i would hate him too MFNSMFNA

the difference..... what a gay/bi awakening does to a mf <3

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[lionblaze03-02-art]

the two cats i'm most obsessed with in my clangen save rn, Burnetpelt and Bouncemurk. They have a terrible relationship with one another but hey at least I love them both

[missmoodring]

never pick fights with a girl gang

[moonstruckme]

hello! im not sure if you've done this before and if you have, i hope its ok to ask for more hehe but can i request rockstar poly marauders w a shy!reader and gets easily flustered when they show affection? thank u sm i really love all your poly marauders drabbles!!

Thank you for requesting angel <33

rockstar!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

The sound tech at this venue is nice. You liked her first for her pink hair and then for the easy way she motioned you over to help do the boys’ sound checks. You don’t think she needed the help; she only saw you standing off by herself and did a kind thing to make you feel less awkward. 

Now the boys are off in their dressing room, and you’re trailing contentedly behind her while she shows you how she sets up for shows. 

The bustle and ruckus of crews setting up before shows isn’t new to you. You’ve been with the boys since the beginning of their tour, but usually you stay out of the way, blending into walls or taking refuge in your boyfriends’ dressing room while they’re busy. You’ve never really gotten to know the actions the bustle and ruckus constitute. 

“Usually I help with lighting once I’m done with my own stuff,” the sound tech tells you. “It’s all programmed ahead of time, so really I’m just on standby in case something happens. Do the boys have a favorite color if I have to pick something?” 

You gnaw your lip, contemplative. “Sirius would probably like yellow, if you get the chance.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up. You know it’s not in the usual color palette of the boys’ shows. “Really?” 

“No.” You suck in a breath as a pair of arms wraps around your middle, releasing it when you realize it’s Sirius. “Not really. Minx, you know I hate yellow.” He smushes his face into your cheek. “Joke’s on you though, I look good in every color.” 

“Yellow certainly least,” James teases. He steps into your field of vision wearing his concert outfit. Jeans and a tight t-shirt just short enough to tease a sliver of abdomen. Of all the fans who will get to see him looking so handsome tonight, you’re glad you’re one of them. 

“Anyway,” he says, grinning, “we have a very important question for you both. No pressure.” 

“Well, some pressure,” Sirius says. 

You look at your sound tech friend. Like most crew, she’s largely unaffected by the rockstars currently sharing in casual repartee in front of her. Her eyes don’t appear to dip to James’ stomach or trace the myriad of tattoos you know are showing through Sirius’ sheer top. If anything, she looks only faintly amused by the way the band’s lead singer is mushing tiny, soft kisses into the skin by your ear. Your cheeks warm. 

“What’s the question?” you ask, dreading the reply. 

Sirius turns you in his arms, taking you by the shoulders and levelling you with a very serious look. “What is the hottest instrument for someone to play?” 

Your sound tech friend barks a laugh. “Bass,” she says. “No question.” 

James’ eyebrows fly up, his expression one of utter disbelief, but Sirius only says swiftly, “Wrong. You know what it is, don’t you, gorgeous?” 

Your shoulders gravitate upwards at the moniker. “You can’t ask me to pick between you.” 

“Don’t think of it as picking between us,” he says. “Just, which is the hottest? Objectively.” 

“I can’t be objective,” you plead. 

“Does anyone know what time it is? I can’t seem to find a clock in this whole place.” You turn your head as Remus emerges from their dressing room, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Oh.” He blinks when he sees you, waving to dispel the smog. “Sorry, dovey. Where’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been here,” you say, voice softening. Sirius makes a quiet sound and hugs you again. 

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. Your face flames. 

“It’s quarter ‘til,” the sound tech offers helpfully. 

Remus turns to her with a smile he’ll never understand the power of. “Thank you.” 

“We’re conducting a poll on which instrument is the hottest,” James informs him. He jerks his thumb toward the sound tech. “She says bass.” 

Remus’ grin turns smug. “Quite right. What’s your pick, dove?” 

You’re mute and melting, hot enough by now that you wish you could evaporate into steam and float away through the vents. 

“She won’t say,” Sirius sighs dramatically, breath warm against your cheek. 

“Oh.” Remus seems to wisen to your plight. “It’s not really playing fair, is it? She can hardly be objective.” 

“Right,” you agree quickly. 

“But angel,” says James, bewildered, “guitar is classic.” 

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair,” Sirius argues. “For anyone to say anything other than the front man! We’re chosen for our hotness!” 

“Well, that’s not strictly true, is it?” 

“Yeah?” Sirius has that shit-eating grin, like he’s winding James up in anticipation of hauling him into a broom closet. You’re only glad it’s not directed at you. “You got something to say, Potter?”

“Sorry,” Remus apologizes to your sound tech friend on their behalf, touching a hand to Sirius’ back to guide you both towards the dressing room. James follows. 

“You’re good,” she laughs. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” 

“You too,” you say, cringing at the unintentional softness of your own voice. 

“Who was that?” Sirius asks as James closes the door to their dressing room behind you. “Have you made a new friend?” 

You groan, flopping down onto the posh-looking, uncomfortable couch and covering your face with your hands. “I was trying to.” 

“It looked like it was going well,” James says. “Maybe you can hang out with her again while we’re onstage.” 

“I can’t now,” you mumble between your palms. 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” says Remus, as he sits beside your head and begins smoothing your baby hairs with his fingers, “we’ve embarrassed her.” You let your hands slip down enough to see him, and he smiles at you. “I don’t think she’ll hold it against you, dovey. She seemed nice.” 

“You would think so.” Sirius plucks the cigarette from between Remus’ fingers, taking a drag before it can burn out. “She picked your instrument.” 

Remus shrugs, smug again. “That helps.” 

Sirius squints at him spitefully. He sits next to your knees where they’re flung over the arm of the couch. “Don’t let us spoil your new friend for you,” he says, sincerely. “She loves you already, I can tell. You’re perfect.” 

“You’re biased,” you counter, face heating again. 

Sirius grins like he can tell and reaches down to tug you upwards. He grasps you with a roughness for which he has no follow through, kissing you sweetly with his fingers bunched in your jacket.

“Wrong,” he says, lips moving against yours. “I know how to be objective.”

[jaylalolz]

❛ 𝐌𝐑 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

ENEMY!reader x ENEMY!nicholas

SUMMARY, Nicholas didn’t enjoy attending parties, but he was forced to attend one. he immediately is drawn to a fascinating girl he saw, with a mask, only to discover that she is his only enemy.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyy

A/N, i love this plot sm. i hope you guys enjoy!! make sure to heart and leave a comment 🪽

The Halloween party was full, the throbbing beat of the music vibrating through the walls of the old house. Fog machines puffed clouds of smoke that snaked between costumed dancers, and the flashing strobe lights made it hard to tell where one person ended and another began. Everyone was masked, faces hidden behind elaborate disguises. Nicholas stood near the edge of the dance floor, observing the chaos around him through the dark eyeholes of his Ghostface mask.

He hated parties, hated the noise, hated the feeling of people crowding in too close. But what he hated most of all was her. Yet here he was, lingering on the outside because she was supposed to be here tonight. He didn’t know why it mattered—maybe he just wanted to see what kind of ridiculous costume she’d chosen. Probably something overly dramatic, like her personality.

Nicholas tugged at the sleeve of his black robe, adjusting the plastic knife in his hand. His friends had laughed when he chose the Ghostface costume, saying it was cliché. But right now, he was thankful for the anonymity it provided. He could watch, unbothered, shielded by the mask.

He scanned the room. People twirled and laughed, faces painted in ghoulish shades of makeup, masks obscuring their identities. Then he saw her.

She stood at the bar, her dark curls cascading down her back, black lace gloves covering her hands as she leaned against the counter. She was dressed in a black corset, the burgundy velvet of her skirt flowing around her legs. Her lips were painted a deep red, and even through her masquerade mask, Nicholas could tell she was trouble.

He didn’t know who she was, but there was something magnetic about her. Something familiar, though he couldn’t place it.

His feet moved before his brain could catch up, taking him toward the bar where she stood. She was sipping from a crimson-colored drink, her eyes scanning the crowd with an air of detached amusement.

Nicholas cleared his throat as he approached, and she turned to look at him, her gaze flicking over his Ghostface costume. She raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

“Nice mask,” she said, her voice smooth, but there was an edge to it, like she wasn’t easily impressed.

“You too,” he replied, though he had no idea what her costume was supposed to be. He wasn’t exactly up to date on vampire shows or whatever dark, gothic look she was pulling off.

She tilted her head, her eyes glittering beneath the mask. “Katherine.”

“Ghostface,” he shot back, earning him a chuckle.

Without another word, she downed the rest of her drink, then slid the glass across the bar. Her gloved hand extended toward him, a playful challenge in her eyes. “Dance?”

He hesitated for a second. Dancing wasn’t his thing, but something about her made it hard to say no. Maybe it was the mystery, the way her body moved with fluid grace, or the way she didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. And that smirk—it was infuriatingly tempting.

He grabbed her hand, the warmth of her fingers a surprise through the lace gloves, and let her lead him onto the dance floor.

The music shifted to something slower but still pulsing with energy, the bass thrumming through his chest. Around them, people swayed, masks blending into the darkened space, the flashing lights creating a disorienting blur of color.

She moved in closer, her body pressing against his as they danced. Nicholas felt the sharpness of her hips against his as she swayed, her arms snaking up around his neck. The contact sent a jolt through him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved with her, their bodies falling into rhythm.

For a moment, he forgot about everything—the party, the rivalry, the irritation that always bubbled under the surface when he thought of her. All that existed was the masked woman in front of him, and the strange pull between them.

She tilted her head up, her lips barely an inch from his ear. “You dance better than I thought.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Nicholas muttered, his voice low, but there was no venom in his tone. It was strange, the way she was getting under his skin, making him forget about the person he usually was—the person who was always at odds with someone else.

“Big talk for someone hiding behind a mask,” she teased, her breath warm against his neck.

“You’re one to talk,” he shot back, his grip tightening on her waist. The banter felt effortless, but different. There wasn’t the usual bite to it. Just an undercurrent of something electric.

She let out a low laugh, her body pressing even closer, her hand sliding up to his mask. “What if I take it off?”

He froze, his heart thudding. For some reason, he didn’t want her to know who he was. Not yet.

“What if I don’t want you to?” he replied, his voice a little rougher, his thumb brushing over the fabric of her glove.

She paused, eyes flicking up to meet his through her mask. For a moment, the space between them crackled with tension—like they were standing on the edge of something neither of them quite understood.

Instead, her lips curled into a small, knowing smirk. Without a word, she nodded toward the stairs, a silent invitation.

Nicholas hesitated for a second, his thoughts tangled. Should he do this? But something about the way she moved, the subtle tilt of her head. It felt different. More dangerous.

And despite every instinct telling him to walk away, he found himself moving toward her.

She turned and started up the stairs, her skirt swaying with each step, and Nicholas followed, his heartbeat quickening. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he couldn’t stop himself from being drawn into whatever this was. The rest of the party faded away behind them, the noise muffled as they climbed higher, leaving the crowd below.

At the top of the stairs, she paused, glancing back at him with that same mischievous smile. "Coming?" she asked, her voice a little breathless, though still laced with challenge.

"Do I have a choice?" he muttered, his tone sharp, though his feet kept moving toward her.

"You always have a choice, ghostface," she replied, her gaze flicking over him like she was daring him to turn back.

But he didn’t.

She led him down a quiet hallway, stopping in front of a door that was cracked slightly open. Her fingers brushed the doorknob before she pushed it open wider, revealing a small, dimly lit room. It looked like a guest bedroom, draped in soft shadows from the single lamp in the corner. The sound of the party downstairs seemed miles away now, the noise distant and muted.

She stepped inside, casting a glance over her shoulder. "So," she said, her voice lower now, softer, but still carrying that familiar edge, "was the dance everything you expected?"

Nicholas stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, the click of the latch loud in the quiet space. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with careful eyes. "What are you playing at?"

She shrugged, moving to the center of the room, her fingers trailing along the edge of the bed. "Who says I’m playing?"

"Why did you invite me back here," he shot back, his eyes narrowing.

Her lips quirked up, but it wasn’t the smug smile he was used to. There was something else there, something more dangerous hiding just beneath the surface. "Wanna play a game, Mr ghostface?," she said quietly, turning to face him fully.

Nicholas swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yes" he says, his voice more certain than he intended.

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly against his chest. "Simon says.. lay on the bed" Her eyes searched his, her hand lingering over the fabric of his shirt.

Nicholas tensed under her touch, his heart pounding. Every fiber of his being told him this was a trap, that she was playing with him. But another part of him, the part that had spent the entire night dancing with her, wasn’t so sure.

"Okay" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He lays down right at the center of the bed.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark. She starts crawling to him in all fours and sits on his crotch; making him gasp. “Wanna make a deal with the devil?”

Her words hung in the air between them, thick and heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Nicholas felt his pulse quicken, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Before he could think about it any longer, she was closer, her breath warm against his neck as she looked up at him. Her hand slid up, fingers lightly grazing his neck. "What’s the matter, Ghostface?" she murmured, her voice teasing but softer now, more intimate. "Scared of a challenge?"

But instead, he reached out, his fingers sliding through the soft curls at the back of her neck, pulling her closer. "I never back down from a challenge," he whispered, his breath mingling with hers.

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, they were frozen, caught between something much more dangerous.

She took a slow, deliberate lean closer, looking up at him with that same devilish smile. “Simon says.. take my corset off”

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, but then his hand moved finding the ribbons on her corset and untying them. She didn't move, her eyes locked on his, and the air between them crackled with tension.

"Good boy," she said softly, her lips curving up into a satisfied smile.

“Tell me you want this.” she demands

He nods his head eagerly. “Y-Yes i want it..” he says softly.

"You wanna grind a bit baby?" she smirks in interest. He nods in desperation, dying for it at this point.

He undoes his belt and is about to undo his jeans. His bulge is visible when he unzips, but it is kept hidden by his briefs.

He gently begins to rub himself up and down against her as he rubs his confined erection against her covered core. Her lips parted with an involuntary whimper into his as her gut clenched a sharp knot at the sensitivity.

Her lips twitched at his mercy, pressing herself up against him through the flimsy covering they wore. Her legs began to expand, which allowed him an enormous amount of access. He stretches out his hand to take a firm hold of her hair. "Fuck sakes—that feels good." she responds, pushing his bulge up and down.

He grabs her throat with a forceful motion and turns them over onto the large bed. He reaches down into her panties and runs two fingers up her slit while hovering above her. "Are you soaking wet for me, princess?"

He touched her clit, and she parted my lips. He holds her throat, caressing her core with his fingers.

"You sure you want this?" For the last time, he says. She nods rapidly, aching all over now and pleading to feel him. She cusses, unable to wait any longer, "Please fuck me."

He slowly presses his hips forward while maintaining his position. He drives his tip inside her calmly, her body stretching around him. "Fuck..." He lets out a low sigh.He gives a deep sigh of relief as he pushes just past the head, freezing with just enough. Along with the sensation came a surge of intense pressure and pleasure.

He tries to ease her into the change very slowly, rocking with only half of himself.

“Shit.." He whispers to himself. "You're so tight”

He continues to press until she eventually feels his hips reach the back of her thigh, which was now fully in contact with his chest. She threw back her head and stretched a little, gasping out as she was so full and tight around him. "I can feel you clench around me.." With a stutter of delight, he stammers into the air, the squeeze tightly holding him.

He begins to make more rhythmic hip movements. She felt a warm sensation of pleasure begin to flare up in her lower abdomen as he began to swear. She arched her back involuntarily, but he quickly secured her back into a flat position on the bed.

"Yes— right there." she cried out in pleasure. Her fingers came in contact with her mask as she yanks it out of her face.

It hit him like a punch to the gut.

It was her. His rival. The girl he couldn't stand-the one who always got under his skin, who infuriated him more than anyone else.

The realization sent a thrill of anger— and something else-coursing through him. “Fuck!” She presses against his shoulder as he loses control and grips the back of her neck, slamming her against him. She gasped at the abrupt angle, but before she could react, he grabbed hold of her and began thrusting up into her.

He shouldn’t have continued what he was doing when he realized she was rival his him. But instead, it motivated him to move more quickly. She slams her head back against the mattress. Her thighs quivering in his presence. She was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that she didn't say anything during the high.

She groans at the sensitivity even though she was suddenly exhausted by his sloppy and sluggish thrusting. She couldn't take her eyes off him, even if her lids were heavy.

He twitches inside her, then instantly releases his hold on her stomach by pulling out. Releasing in his climax, he was death grasping the bed cushion above and behind her head. his big hands gripping her sides and his head was buried in her chest.

“Are you gonna take your mask off?”

“I think It’s best If I don’t”

[crunchycoookies]

Art for my country Branch au 🥰 Details abt it under the cut ⬇️

Here's my silly little au! So basically Branch ran away from Pop village because everyone (minus Poppy) treated him terribly. While exploring he stumbles upon the outskirts of Lonesome Flats, where he trips and sprains his ankle. Delta finds him and is like "What tf you look weird but ig ur my son now." And from then on she takes care of him. Somewhere along the way Branch starts to call her Mom (or Mama/ Ma). Clampers is born at some point, making her Branch’s cousin. They love/hate each other and have that unhinged sibling dynamic. They just turn into a cute little family and I love em sm.

Delta also helps Branch regain his colors, although they are slightly muted tones of his true colors. Because the county trolls are so adept at dealing with grief, Branch is allowed to process his grandmothers death and his fear of singing with a good mentality. This leads to him slowly gaining his colors back (hence the blue streaks in his hair) and learning to be happy again. He does start to sing again but it's a mix of country and Pop. (Which comes into play during TWT, but more on that later).

Also I made Gary (the remote Imao) into a goat critter. He's stupid and I love him. Delta has an ongoing feud with Gary bc he constantly tears up the garden but she can't do anything brash because Branch absolutely loves him.

There is more but that's it for nowww! Feel free to ask questions and I’ll do my best to answer them! Give me ideas for this aus name pls I have nothing

[rafesangelita]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tipsy kook!sweetheart!reader getting handsy with rafe and even though he likes her sm, he takes her home and makes sure she’s safe 🥺

warnings: alcohol consumption, flirting, reader is v handsy lol (rafe loves it though)

you were such a lightweight, you knew having another drink wasn’t the smartest choice. after one shot and downing a margarita like it was a slushy, you found yourself dancing with your girlfriends in the middle of topper’s living room. rafe watched you from afar, his tongue running across his teeth as your skirt rode up your thighs.

“when are you giving that poor man a chance?” your friend giggled in your ear, making your eyebrows knit in confusion. “who?” you looked around, immediately spotting rafe in the corner. it was like he was trying to tempt you with the way he was manspreading, the thin material of his t-shirt doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath it.

“i don’t know..” you smiled at him, heart fluttering in your chest when he sent you a wink before bringing his cup up to his lips. “i think i’m gonna go say hi—” your friend attempted to pull you back, but you were already well on your way. “hi, rafe!” you chirped, your skin flushed due to the alcohol in your system.

he gazed up at you, your eyes twinkling underneath the soft lighting. “hey, sweetheart. you look pretty.” you did a spin for him, adjusting the small purse on your shoulder. “is this seat taken?” rafe shook his head, motioning towards the empty spot next to him. instead of sitting on the couch, you got comfortable in his lap, making him curse under his breath.

“well this works too.” he laughed, draping an arm across your waist. you blinked slowly, resting your head on his chest as you stroked the underside of his jaw. “i like your arms,” you whispered, “and your face..” rafe hummed, taking your hand in his own. “yeah? i like your face, too.” he cooed, adjusting your skirt so no one else can see the color of your underwear.

“take me home.” rafe nodded. “of course, i wouldn’t want you getting in an uber like this.” he took a sip from his drink, nearly choking when he felt your fingertips tug at the belt loops of his jeans. “no. take me home, rafe.” at first he didn’t understand, but when he saw you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, it was a look he knew all too well.

“what did you have to drink?” desperate to divert your tipsy mind elsewhere, rafe moved your hand away from his lower half. of course, he failed, only making you peck his cheek instead. rafe’s sanity was hanging on by a thread. your lips were soft against his skin, your perfume smelled so sweet, and worst of all, your ass sat perfectly where he needed you most.

“umm- i can’t really remember..” you trailed off, shrugging before nuzzling your nose into his neck. “fuck.” he said through gritted teeth, deciding he better get you back to your place before anything escalated. “come on, let’s get you home.” he helped you up, holding onto you tightly as he lead you two out of topper’s house.

you were laughing the whole way to rafe’s truck, a squeal leaving your lips when he hoisted you up into the passenger’s seat. somehow during the duration of the ride to your house, you managed to kick your feet up on rafe’s lap, humming sweetly to the most disgusting lyrics playing out of his speakers.

once you two pulled into your driveway, you let him carry you over his shoulder, too tired to protest otherwise. “are your parents home?” he put you down momentarily to grab the key from under the welcome mat. “of course not.” you yawned, sighing in relief once he got the door open. rafe watched you kick your heels off, tiptoeing to the couch before face planting into the cushions.

eyes trailing down your body, he looked away when he got to the bottom of your ass cheeks shamelessly peeking out from underneath your skirt. grabbing the blanket closest to your sleeping figure, he covered you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you stirred lightly, melting into his touch. the longer he stayed, the harder it was for him to leave.

“alright.” he groaned quietly, sparing you one more glance before locking the door behind him. he made a mental note to call you and check on you first thing in the morning.

[darlinluxx]

𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

request from : @erika-mon2-blog “Hi sweetie! I saw that you were accepting requests for Saebyeok, and I would love to ask you for one. I recently came across your profile and I'm in love with it! I'd love something along the lines of a sweet and clingy *reader* and a cold and unaffected Saebyeok; I know it's not a specific request, but I just want to see Saebyeok fighting against his cold attitude to please his favorite person. 😭🩷”

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

summary : you and saebyeok are complete opposites. i guess it’s true what they say : opposites attract

a/n : thank u sm <33 i literally just finished this fic as you sent me this lmao perfect timing !!

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he chipped paint of your apartment wall is the same shade as the chipped paint of the subway station Saebyeok seems to gravitate towards. except here, in your little corner of Seoul, there’s a soft blanket draped over the worn couch, the aroma of jasmine tea lingering in the air, and the sunlight spills in, warm and inviting. the subway station? it’s cold, concrete, and constantly echoing with the anxieties of the city.

you hum softly, arranging the hydrangeas in a vase until they’re just so — a perfect, delicate dance of blue and purple. Saebyeok, on the other hand, isn’t about delicate dances. she’s more cold and quiet storms. and yet, somehow, you’ve found yourselves woven together.

you hear her before you see her. the jingle of the keys she pulls from her pocket, a small, almost involuntary noise that always makes your heart flutter. she’s in the doorway, silhouette framed against the hallway light, a stark contrast to the soft glow of your living room.

“hey.” she says, her voice low and a little rough, like gravel being shifted beneath the tide. she doesn’t look at you directly, her gaze fixed on the floor, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her dark green jacket. it’s a gesture you’ve come to know well: the guarded posture of someone who’s used to fending for themselves.

“hi,” you say, your smile immediate and genuine. you leave the hydrangeas, walking over to her and pulling her in for a hug. your hands brush against the cold fabric of her jacket, a reminder of the world she moves through — a world so different from the one you curate within these four walls.

she stiffens for a moment, unused to the physical expression of affection, before relaxing, her breath ghosting against your neck. it’s a small victory, something you treasure.

“anything good happen today?” you ask, your voice light even though you suspect the answer might be in the negative. you know about the struggles; the constant search for her family, the need to survive. but you believe in offering her a soft place to land.

Saebyeok shrugs, a slight lift of her shoulders. “the same.” she says, which could mean anything, or nothing at all. you don’t press her. you know she’ll tell you when she’s ready, in her own time, in her own way.

instead, you lead her to the couch, tucking a soft blanket around her shoulders. you bring her the tea, the steam swirling around your face, a faint wisp of comfort in the stillness of the room.

“how was your day?” she asks, her eyes finally lifting to meet yours. you told her about your day. Saebyeok listens, her gaze intense as if she’s trying to decipher a complex puzzle. you suspect it is that for her; all the vibrant color, the soft petals, the open displays of merriment — it’s a foreign landscape.

she doesn’t comment much, but you can feel her presence, hear the subtle shift in her body as she adjusts on the couch, moving closer to you. in her quiet way, she’s here, present, with you.

later, as you’re both curled up on the couch, a book of poetry open in your lap, you lean against Saebyeok, your head resting on her shoulder. she runs her fingers through your hair, a habit she’s developed, a small gesture of intimacy.

you, with your bright colors and gentle nature, and Saebyeok, with her shadows and guarded heart, are an unlikely pair. but here, in this small apartment surrounded by soft light and the scent of jasmine, you understand why this works. you are her anchor, the bright spot in her storm. and she, well, she is the grounding force that keeps you from floating too far away, reminding you that there’s a strength in silence, in resilience, in surviving even the harshest of storms. and in this quiet intimacy, you know, with absolute certainty, that this love, two different worlds colliding, is exactly what you both need.

[hoseoksluna]

CENTURY | myg

pairing: boyfriend!idol!yoongi x f. reader 

genre: smut

word count: 3.6k

summary: when yoongi needs inspiration for the song he's been working on, you're not hesitant to help him.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: idol yoongi working in his studio being all stressed out is a warning on its own, he's also immensely hot and calls himself oppa (god help me i am a weak girl), mentions of a nasty punishment, yoongi is kinda mean, and a little bit horny, clit spanking *heart eyes*, oral sex (f. receiving), praise kink—usage of stickers, raw sex.

note: my god, this was a drag at first but because i feel sm better today, i finally finished this and i feel myself returning to the hoseoksluna that i was before i got sick. :( this was fun to write today omg. yoongi is absolutely delicious in this and i can't wait to start writing smoke 3 after this. my babies, enjoy this smutty one shot. i love you. spam my inbox, i miss you! give me a warm welcome, please. MWAH.

Habitually, singing for him was your escapism. You’d close yourself up in a bubble, withdrawing from the surrounding gray world, and you’d slink away to a realm brimming with vivid colors. In his songs, you could be anyone. A figment of his imagination that had more life in its veins than you ever had the taste of. You’d forget, for hours upon hours, about the anguish of your daily life and mental issues that would trouble you and, taking his hand, he would take you to Neverland, watch over you, then take you home. 

This time, however, he didn’t take you to that fantasy land. 

He took you somewhere darker. 

The energy in his lab was potent with something that tickled you ever so gently when you stepped inside. A dusky room with an even heftier, crepuscular layer of vexation. You could feel it thumping beneath your skin after it grazed you with its fingertips, weaseling its way in, settling, stilling. Your boyfriend didn’t turn around when he heard you shut the door, nor when your tights-clad feet paddled on the floor, as absorbed as he was in his work. No shoes inside the Genius Lab—that was the first rule, one you were disciplined enough from him to remember, even if someone woke you up in the middle of the night. 

You paid a great price, once upon a time. 

You had walked in with your Nike’s when he called you over, wet and smeared with the snow from the winter’s artwork outside. Despite the fact you rubbed the soles on the mat in the building of his workplace long before you strutted all the way to his studio, there were still little snowflakes that clung to your sneakers. It was your first time there and Yoongi seemed to have forgotten to let you in on the rules. And once he saw the mess you made, he told you off. 

Kissed you quite roughly. 

Made you promise to never do that again, playfully. 

Sank you to your knees and bent you over those melting snowflakes. Spanked you so hard that he engraved the first rule of the Genius Lab into your system. 

No shoes inside. 

Then, he patted your head. 

Gave you a silver star sticker, resembling the snowflake, for being such a good girl that learns well. 

You had stuck it on the table right beside his laptop, an etched memory that you recollected every time he’d invite you over. 

It’s what he’s mindlessly rubbing with his fingertip as you walk over to him, another winter later, embedding your digits into the ebony night of his hair, the long strands so satiny and sleek. Yoongi gazes up at you from his computer, pale violet flecks adorning the skin beneath his weary, yet ever so trenchant eyes, and you pout at the sight of him. There must be something wrong with the process of his album-making and he’s determined to fix it. 

Yoongi takes off his headphones, wraps an arm around your waist. You’re wearing a little black dress for him with a low neckline that uncovers everything private as he leads you to sit down on his lap, greeting you with a raspy hello and a kiss that tells you he needs you more than his own countenance lets on. 

You linger in the close proximity, peppering his mouth with tiny kisses that make him visibly relax—his shoulders slump against his chair and he lifts your knees, placing them in the snug crook between his side and his arm, his hand spreading forest fire down your calf, stopping at your ankle, swathing it with those flames. 

You cease your kisses, overcome with his body heat, and butterflies zap you in your tummy when he continues to kiss your mouth with those sweet little pecks. 

Prolonging the last kiss, he peers down at you with the world’s most affectionate adoration and you blush. You’ve tasted the dulciness of all the seasons with him, and yet it feels as though you’ve just started dating. His love has long made its home within you, but you can still sense its freshness in your bones. 

It will never get old. 

“I love these, baby,” he husks, his eyes growing more lidded in the heated, cozy atmosphere guarded by the fire of his body, and he drags a hand up and down your leg, spreading his admiration on the nylon of your tights that he speaks of. “You came just at the right time.” 

He nuzzles his face in your neck while he paws at your feet and you soften, brushing your fingers through his hair. You think he needs to get out of this place and breathe in some fresh air for his brain to recuperate and be filled with the flimsy, ivory sparks of inspiration. 

It’s snowing outside. 

It always seems to be when he invites you to his secret spot during the winter months. 

“What’s wrong, hm?” you ask, requiring the specifics in order to help him as much as you can. “What is it this time?” 

Yoongi grumbles nonsense in your neck, the sound muffled and indecipherable, and you laugh, softly, lifting his head. 

“I literally didn’t catch a word you said,” you whine, squishing his cheeks, and Yoongi feignedly sobs, scrunching his eyes shut. You laugh, wiggling his head, encouraging him to tell you what made him darken the energy of his studio so devastatingly. 

He inhales a deep breath in and takes his hand to your bum, fondling it. “I miss your pussy.” 

You burst out into obscene laughter, wiping a hand down his face. “Be fucking serious.” 

Yoongi chuckles, but then breaks into false little sobs all over again. “The melodies aren’t working together, I can’t transform the ideas in my head into this song and I just miss your pussy so bad. I wanna eat it.” 

So that’s the source of that dark energy in the lab. 

He’s horny. 

He wails into your bosom, deepening your laughter that melts into an endearing coo. One that lifts his head and makes a grin blossom on his pale face, a dab of color rushing to the surface. 

A pretty lotus flower, opening for you. 

You poke a finger into his cheek, your heart constricting at the cute way your nail makes a round dent in that flourishing flesh. “I thought you called me over because you wanted my vocals.” 

Yoongi squeezes your bum, sucking in a breath. “I did. I wanted to finish the melodies so I could record your voice, but shit fucking happens. I thought we could write the lyrics together.” 

You bite your lip, finding the idea mesmerizing, and your chest clenches, a certain longing for it forming inside. A light flickers in Yoongi’s abysmal eyes at your reaction—and you wish you could fix this situation for him, remove the block and replace it with a creativity of your own. 

An idea pops into your mind, abruptly. 

You widen your eyes, your smile growing, little by little. Yoongi straightens, his features mirroring yours, and the picture hope paints upon his countenance only drives your idea forward. 

“What?” 

“Oh my god, Yoongi.” You clasp a hand over your mouth. “What if we write the lyrics first and just hum random melodies, see what fits best?” 

He thinks about it, tilting his head. And then destroys the realm that your little idea created. 

“I’m sorry, baby, but that never works with me. I know artists that do that, but whenever I tried, I just reached a dead end,” he mutters and you pout, furrowing your brows. He lets you soak in it for a little while before he shakes his head. “I have a better idea.” 

Yoongi pushes his laptop to the side and lifts you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing, setting you down in place of it. He moves his chair forward. Spreads your legs. Kisses the inner of your thigh and you fall back, your palms landing on the ivory keys of his keyboard and creating a soft music that raises his brows. 

“Do that again.” 

You smile and lift your hand, dropping it on the same notes that you did by accident. He looks over to see which ones you played and he kisses the front of your thigh before he reaches over for his notepad and pen, writing it down. 

“You’re my little angel, I swear,” he says without taking his eyes off of his writing, then he extends an arm behind you and finishes the melody with a certain ease that causes him to relax even more—and your smile to deepen in your face. 

You blush, feeling like that winged creature—assigned to his side to help him. 

“I brainstormed some lyrics the other day,” Yoongi mumbles and begins to stare you down with an intention that coils in your gut, your heart quickening its rhythm. “How about you bounce off of it, make up some lyrics while I eat you out? I can play the melody for you that we just made.” 

Your mouth parts, your throat drying. Warmth pools in your core, the idea of Yoongi playing on the keyboard while he does something so intimate to you bringing you down to an abyss of madness. He hands you his notepad after he flips to the page with the lyrics he mentioned. Your eyes skim over his neat, black handwriting, the random words that could string together a sentence if there was a little work put in it. 

But how are you supposed to focus in those circumstances? It’s not just his dick that makes you braindead—it’s his tongue that does it in the first place. 

“What do you say, baby?” he persists, dipping down and scattering kisses along that sensitive part of your thigh, his breath wafting over your core as he switches to the other one, spoiling it with those same wet kisses. 

You catch a glance of his shining tongue and that does it for you. 

Your heart thumps, violently—and your pussy drools. 

“Fuck, Yoongi.” 

That does it for him, too. 

He goes to rip your tights right in the middle, but you yelp, stopping him. 

“No, don’t rip them. They were expensive and they’re my only pair for the winter.” 

Yoongi gives you a look, cocks his brow. “Why didn’t you say? I could buy you some.” 

You clamp your mouth shut. You don’t like to use his money to buy yourself personal stuff because you have a job of your own and you’re able to take care of yourself, but lately, with prices rising and the rent growing more expensive, there’s little from your paycheck that you could spend on things like these. And you still need to save up for way tougher times. 

“I could never ask you to do that, are you kidding?” 

Yoongi’s gaze darkens. “Who said you couldn’t?” 

You open your mouth to argue with him, but only a yelp comes through when he swiftly tugs the waistband of your tights over your bum and up your legs, lifting them in the process and folding you in half. 

You’re sure he’s ripped them. 

You’re fucked. 

You lean back, landing once again on his keys and at this point he laughs, darkly, telling you which notes to write down and with a shaky hand—you do. 

“You’re getting so many fucking stickers today.” 

Your heart stops its feral beats and you gaze down at him with a tormented look, your brows furrowed, eyes lidded and cheeks flushed. Yoongi bites his lip and gets his sheet of silver little stars. 

He peels one out. “This one's for you coming at the right time.” He sticks it to that one side of your inner thigh that he left unkissed, the sticky part latching to your skin without a hint of a problem. “And this one’s for your smart little brain.”

He sticks it to the bone right across your cunt, smoothing it out with his thumb that then begins to travel and crosses the distance to the soaked center of your panties. Yoongi sucks in a breath as he peers down at the outline of your flesh, parting your thighs a little to gaze up at you through his lashes. “You have two tasks,” he rasps, brushing his lips across your clothed, dampened flesh. 

You grip the table beneath you, letting out a whiny sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Pay attention.” 

A simple, low order and you pop them open, breathing out in staccatos. He runs that thumb over your clit, puts a little pressure over it. You bite your lip, straining your ears, but the faint pleasure makes it a little bit difficult for you. 

“I’m gonna rub this clit and you don’t get my tongue unless you tell me the name of the store, where you’re getting new pairs of tights from today.” He focuses on your nub, circling it with soft grazes that he knows they get you riled up nice and fast, needy and drenched. It’s what he does when you’re watching a movie together and wind up not knowing how it ends. “And once you come for me, you get another sticker for being such a good girl. Is that clear?” 

Your lungs heave and your mind spins, your brain cells shrinking with your arousal. You lick your lips. Wetness stains your panties even more. “And the other task?” 

He slaps the side of your thigh, making you jump. “I asked you a question, did I not?” 

Such abrupt meanness. Other times, it would get you going, but today it’s not something that you’re really feeling. Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re ovulating and you need the gentleness that he’s more than capable of giving you. 

You drift a hand down his face, stopping with your thumb at his lips, tracing the upper line. So soft, so puffy. “Be nice to me, Yoongi.” 

His eyes round and a glint perches itself on the top of his chocolate irises. Yoongi sets your feet on both of his armrests. Leans his head against your thigh, looking up at you with a tender half smile. 

“Is that an order?” he asks, flattening his fingers across your clit and strumming it, the pleasure heightening and you sink your teeth into the bottom pillow of your mouth, your body following the wave of the delight he provides you, rolling. 

“Yes. Be nice or no pussy.” 

He gasps, lowly, his smile transforming into that smirk of his that has the tendency to weaken you through and through. “You wouldn’t do that to me.” 

Your heart throbs and you love it. “Yes, I would.” 

You go to close your legs and sit up, but he stops you. “Okay, fair enough.” 

Oh, that solid calmness of his, perfumed with his horniness. You grin, pleased. “Will you be nice?” 

Yoongi licks over the bare skin of your thigh, rubbing his face in it. “I’ll be an angel like you if you do the tasks.” 

You roll your eyes. A quid pro quo. Fair enough. 

“Okay, be an angel to me then and come here,” you purr, aware of the fact that he got you into this mirrored maze of his horniness and you love it, delight in it, which is the sole, unabashed reason why you tug the back of his head down to your cunt, holding him to you. 

Yoongi opens his mouth just at the right time, licking over your clothed clit and moaning. But then he fights against your hold and spanks your pussy, smiling playfully up at you while biting his lip. 

You jump, whimpering. 

“I didn’t hear you say the name of the store,” he retorts, rubbing, properly, your bedewed nub with slow, agonizing circles. 

Fuck. 

Your breathing quickens and you scramble your blank brain to remember any store that has the least expensive tights. You say the name of the first one that pops up. 

Yoongi doesn’t like your answer, though. 

He spanks your clit, gently. 

“Think again. I’m not buying you anything that will last you for a day. Don’t play me.” 

You can’t help the heavy smile rising on your face, your cheeks heating up so much that they ache. And it helps you, his bull-headedness on buying you high-quality garments that are worth the money, to fight—like he did against your hold—your deeply imprinted independence and utter, shyly, with little hiccups, the name of the store that will keep your legs warm throughout the unforgiving Korean wintertime. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Let Oppa take these off now.” 

Your stomach flips at the title. You’ve always been obsessed with it—as it, without fail, provoked your independence and slowly transformed you into the mindset of a little girl, taken care of by someone stronger, smarter and older than her. All while keeping it intact. 

Yoongi knows you can do everything on your own. And he supports it. But it doesn’t mean he’s not willing to give you a hand. 

The same hand he now uses to bring your panties to the waistband of your thighs near the back of your knees, dragging it down that skin. He spreads your cunt with both of his hands, gasping lowly at the sheen that greets him and magnetically pulls him in. 

He kitten licks your clit and your elbows tremble, giving out on you—another melodies wafting through the air that make him chuckle into your pussy, engraving vibrations that encourage you to lean back all the way and take what he gives you. 

“Write that down, can you do that?” he asks, and when he hears you clicking his pen, he tells you which notes those were. You scribble it down, messily, your hand quivering and painting an obscure picture in his notepad as he begins to suck on your clit in intense waves. You shudder, terribly, the lines of his own pen dark, long and disordered like you. 

You give in, moaning so loud that he intones with you. 

And what you never expected—the tones of your noises provide him with an inspiration he cannot miss. Withdrawing with a wet chin and stealing his pen from you, he jots it down, propping the notepad on your thighs, smiling at the picture you painted. 

Writes something else down, too, while you quiver for him, waiting for his tongue. 

He kisses your thigh, ravagedly. “Sing these lyrics.” 

Taking it from him, the words blur on the paper because he sinks a finger inside your heat, curling it to that spot that he favors, fucking you with a fast motion that unables you, completely, to let out a sound colored by his geniality. 

“Come on, baby. Sing for Oppa.” 

You cry out, clenching your muscles—scream as he latches his mouth to your clit, flicking it with the tip of his equally genius tongue. 

The lab spins, not just your mind. 

“I can’t—I can’t. Oh my God, Yoongi, fuck,” you drag out the curse word, the notepad falling out of your hand and plopping onto the ground. 

Yoongi hums, delighted, sucking on your nub so vivaciously that your orgasm nears. As if sensing it, he adds another finger in. Validates the incoming of your splendid explosion by making quick, little, deep sounds that lead you to that peak. 

You grasp his hair, tightly, humping his mouth. From your own spill screams that fade into soft moans, resplendent of the notes he liked so much and he fucks your hole faster. Pulls out his mouth just a little, flicking your clit from side to side—and you realize he did it so he can watch you come for him. 

Come for your Oppa. 

And you do. With a squeak, one that fades to a legato, tender moan of his title. With an eye contact that freezes time for a century. And, suddenly, just like that—it’s just you, him and the winter. 

Snowflakes that ache to seep into yours and his cheeks. 

Yoongi growls. His male pheromones spill out of him like liquid that washes over you and you get a sticker. 

Right in the center of your mound. 

And he fucks you into wintry oblivion, a snowstorm that swaddles you closer and closer to him. The table rattles, key notes sound out, the slapping of skin conjures ideas in the magnificence of his brain. And then he comes. 

With a final stroke and a rope of his cum all over the sticker near your pleasured cunt, he resumes the time. 

But both you and him are newly constituted by that winter-kissed century, chiseled by it and irrevocably changed by it. 

Yoongi cleans you up and dresses you. You find out he didn’t rip your tights and you give him such a soft, endeared look for it that he coos, chuckling, and pats your disheveled hair, smoothing it down. He kisses you once he fixes you up and, grabbing his keys, phone and wallet, he drives you to the mall, to that exact store you mentioned, to buy you a myriad of tights to last you for a half of a century, grazed and fondled by winter. 

And he leads you back to the studio, besprinkled with the snow’s affection, where you watch him create a song out of your pleasured voice, sampling one of your favorite oldie’s tunes that you end up yanking him up to his feet to dance with him to it. The raspy voice of Ray Charles envelops Yoongi’s hands as he guides your hips and he kisses you until the late night hours. 

And in those late night hours, he watches you, like the angel you are, as you sing the poetry he wrote with your help. 

Neverland doesn’t exist anymore. Not for you at least. 

The darker place he took you to is one breathing with the gesture of helping your lover. Warm, moody and timbered. The licks of flames and the earnestness of a love that depends, without fear, on the other person. 

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ divider by kthice ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[ennabear]

BAE. i absofrickenlutely NEED you to write something along the lines of decorating sevika with crimis boas and lights and whatever, maybe while she's sleeping idfk- and have her be like 😠 butt because reader is so cute and sev loves them sm, she can't hide her smile OR WHATEVER THE FUCK I SAID U KNOW WHAT I MEAN😭😭

i also made this for you. um. idk. it's not very. crimis sevika, but more crimis if it was sevikamas. imagine her trapped in an ornament ok plu shut ya face now bai luv u o masterful sevika writer

HAIII PLUTOBAE HEHEHE thank you for this idea, you cooked fr!!!! i’m featuring jinx in this because i’m a sucker for the found family trope and also her ass would LOVE to prank sevika LMAOOO 😭 AND THANKS FOR THE ORNAMENTS I’M HANGING THEM ON MY SEVIKAMAS TREE!!!!

one last thing, idk if they celebrate or even know about christmas in zaun so just pretend they do for a sec… thanks guys!!!

potential s2 spoilers under the cut!! read at your own risk!!!

sevika’s been stressed out of her mind. she’s not used to having this much power, but with silco gone it’s necessary. she’s also had no choice but to take jinx under her wing, which she’s not exactly thrilled about, especially now that jinx has taken her own little cub under her wing too. exhausted is an understatement. she’s got no clue how to lead a rebellion, and much less how to parent.

so you feel a little bit mean for what you’re about to do, but your wife deserves some giggles in these hard times, no matter how pissed she’ll initially be. jinx giggles as she tiptoes toward sevika’s slumped over form, her snores echoing through the room. you hope your wife enjoyed her sleep while she could.

jinx pokes her a few times to make sure she’s sound asleep, and if anything it only pushes sevika deeper into her slumber. you coo at your wife, she finally looks so relaxed after these past few weeks. jinx sticks her tongue out and pretends to gag at the affection you show to your wife, but she quickly switches back to excitement when you hand over a long rope of sparkly red tinsel.

she wastes no time in wrapping it around sevika and tying it to the chair with intricate knots. sevika doesn’t wake up as she gets restrained to the chair, not as you lift up her heavy new arm and wrap it in brightly colored lights, not even as jinx sticks a few shiny bows to her head. “ready?” she asks.

“ready.” you laugh, preparing yourself for the way sevika’s gonna bitch and moan when she wakes up. once jinx presses a few buttons, the loudest version of ‘get jinxed’ booms through the room, and you jump back in surprise. it’s so loud you swear the whole building shakes, and sevika’s awake in an instant with her arm rattling to the sound of the bass.

“turn it off, jinx!” she shouts, wiggling against her restraints in an attempt to cover her ears. “JINX?”

as soon as she catches sight of the blue-haired girl clutching her stomach in a fit of laughter, she looks like she’s about to smash the kid to pieces. “JINX!” she shouts over the music, “TURN IT OFF.”

jinx rushes over and shuts the music off before her own eardrums blow out, but quickly returns to giggling hysterically. “merry christmas, sevika. you’ve been jinxed!” she laughs. “you should’ve seen your face! i didn’t think you could look any angrier than you already do!”

“what the fuck is this!?” sevika shouts with that deep growl that you love in her voice. “what the fuck is wrong wi—” and then she sees you. you’re laughing nearly as hard as jinx, and she can’t help but gawk at you. your smile is her favorite thing in the world, and it’s the only thing that’s keeping her going lately, but how could you be so cruel?

taking advantage of sevika’s surprised, annoyed, and offended state, jinx ties a new string of white lights to the back of sevika’s chair and starts running around her in circles. “you’re in on this?” sevika asks you.

“well, yeah.” you admit, stepping closer to her. your wife gasps and blinks at you blankly. “how could you?”

“you were asleep,” jinx cuts in. “that’s what you get for falling asleep on the clock.” sevika sighs at this, closing her eyes to keep herself under control before she can spew insults at jinx. “i’m not ‘on the clock’ you brat. it’s early in the morning, and i wouldn’t be so tired if you knew how to clean up your own messes.”

you settle yourself on sevika’s lap, slinging your legs over her as she tries and fails to wrap you in her arms. “you look cute.” you say. “i don’t look cute. untie me.” she demands. you ignore her, instead picking up a few ornaments and hanging them from the little half-ponytail in her hair. jinx notices this and practically flies over, sticking a few snowflake shaped hair clips in sevika’s hair.

you can’t help but laugh at your wife, she looks exactly like a christmas tree. if trees could scowl and pout, that is. jinx joins you, stepping back to admire her work beside you. sevika’s lips twist into a flat line, her eyebrows so low they’re about to make contact with her eyes. it’s been a while since you’ve felt a true familial love, but this feels real and warm to you. you giggle even harder as a sudden love for your girls floods your heart, and sevika shakes her head at you in disapproval.

jinx shoves a mirror in sevika’s face, and this time her lips slightly twist up in the corners as she tries her hardest not to smile. she’s glowing with the amount of lights on her, and the amount of sparkly ornaments and clips hanging from her pisses her off even more. it’s ridiculous. and hilarious. and she loves you guys so much, no matter how unwilling she is to admit it.

“don’t smile…” you tease. “don’t you dare smile, sevika. don’t do it.” she shakes her head again, refusing to make eye contact with either of you and instead staring at the floor.

“i’m not… smiling.” she says, holding her lips as straight as she can. you sit yourself in her lap again, holding her close as she muffles her not-smile in the crook of your neck. “you love us.” you accuse. she sighs with a defeated giggle, a smile brighter than the lights wrapped around her body finally settling on her face. “i guess you’re right. get over here, you fucker.” she mumbles, gesturing with her head for jinx to join in the group hug.

jinx reluctantly walks over and wraps her arms around sevika as loosely as she can, although you know deep down that they both love each other more than they pretend to. you smile, pressing a kiss to sevika’s head and ruffling jinx’s bright blue hair.

“pull anything like this again, and my arm will chomp your heads off. both of you.” sevika threatens, although she means it in the most loving way possible. “that’s my arm.” jinx corrects, flicking her in the forehead. “and maybe next time you should try falling asleep in a bed.”

[goosefries]

hey yall! i just wanted to say thank you SO much for 16k views on my Rules AvA animatic!!!! i actually made a bet with one of my friends that if it got to 15k views i'd MAKE ANOTHER ONE!! and well. it hit 15k.

my next big becker-verse animatic probably going to take longer than this one since i've got a lot on my plate right now,

so in the meantime i thought i'd talk a bit about the animatic and share some of my favorite frames !!!

the animated segments are easily my favorite (obviously). that whole lead-up to the second chorus was SO FUN to draw. when i originally made this i didn't plan on animating any of it to the extent i did, i honestly was making it up as i went along

it turned out i added 3 entire animated segments which all sucked the life out of me (but look incredible). and also that part at the bridge GOD that was a nightmare to make

i wanna talk a bit about their designs since that's what people commented on the most:

it is completely intentional that second, chosen, and victim all have the same-ish hair shape. they all look alike cause they're all connected! dark looks so different because he's not a direct part of the victim->cho->sec line of succession. so he looks a bit out of place next to them LOL!

victim's hair is short in the beginning and grows out to this short ponytail, which changes the shape of his hair a LOT. this is bc over time there's a much larger gap between cho and vic (who look the most similar)

second is all round shapes and curls. he's soft and in his pjs and comfortable (for the most part). the only difference between sec and vic at the beginning is sharpness. if second straightened his hair he'd literally look identical to victim before he grew his hair out

cho's hair is a classic that i can never change, i'm obsessed with his horrible bangs. i forget to draw it a couple times in the animatic but after he befriending dark he gets another little hair spike bc he gets messier

dark. dark mfing lord. hate to love him, love to hate him. his design is pretty self explanatory, all sharp and pointy and rough and tumble. if he comes back this season i'd probably soften some of his shape's but we'll honestly have to see

the color gang all have their own stuff that goes into designs, but a lot of it is shaved off for the animatic just b/c of simplicity sake + at the time that AvA season 2 happened they hadn't gotten the full extent of their characterization appearing in AvM

if you've made it this far i'll give you a little hint: my next BIG becker-verse animation will very likely be for AvM. i have some concepts for AvA ones but i really want to give AvM attention too since i cry about it like every few months

lastly, here's some unused frames that didn't make the cut:

THANK YOU ALL SM FOR THE SUPPORT!! <3333

[crunchystarz]

Hello!

I’d like to request a oneshot with Kalim x fem s/o where it dawns on Kalim that his s/o is the only girl in an all boys school and now he’s starting to notice every stare and gift other guys are trying to give his s/o causing him to be a bit jealous and protective

(I hope the reader being fem is okay bc if not then you can totally ignore this request!!)

"Me jealous?!?...I'm totally jealous"

Kalim Al Asim x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kalim realizes he's not the only one who wants your love and attention

Cw- none, just fluff

Word count: 1545

A/N: GAH sorry this took so long I've been so busy with finals; also imma be so fr I basically blacked out when writing this so if it's not perfect again y'all always can leak my address;

Thank y'all sm for 100+ followers already like 🙁 y'all are so cool pls don't explode

Night Naven College was an all-boys school. Always has been. You were the first exception to that. You were the only girl who ended up becoming a student.

When Kalim first met you he never paid mine to that fact. To Kalim you were Just another student ; a new friend to be made. However, after getting closer to you the housewarden couldn't deny the fact you made his chest feel all fuzzy.

He's always surrounding himself with people but you're his favorite person to be around. He will always try and seek you out in a crowd because you were the one who made his heart beat so fast.

He loved the way you'd run a hand through his hair whenever he'd lay on your lap or the fact you were always down with whatever he came up with. How you truly did care for the people around you.

You were perfect in Kalim’s eyes.

Kalim ended up mentioning these feelings to Jamil offhandedly; Which after a little talk with him. He came to the conclusion he liked you. Not just in his usual friendly way either. He was head over heels.

However you being the only girl meant you had many eyes on you no doubt. It's always been that way since you became a student however Kalim only started paying attention to it once he recognized his crush.

He couldn't help the way his chest turned whenever another would give you big puppy eyes or would be overly friendly with you. He didn't get it. You weren't his…yet. So why does he get jealous so easily?

He couldn't blame others for liking you. You were well you. You were smart, kind and pretty, how couldn't they fall for you? He just wished he had all your attention sometimes even if it did feel selfish.

He'd often subconsciously glare at others who linger on you too long. He'd also be quick to kill you closer to him in a crowded area or lead you somewhere else all together just to get your full attention. It was clear to most people he had a thing for you.

Kalim fidgeted and watched as the pink haired boy shyly handed you a bracelet. It was just made out of colorful rubber bands. He could give you something much nicer… but you looked so happy receiving it.

Was it the thought that counted? Is that why you took it and smiled so brightly? Kalim slightly pouted to himself. He felt so uncomfortable. He wasn't used to being jealous. He wanted to be the one to make you smile like that.

The snowy hair bit his lip as he remembered the conversation he and Jamil had a few days earlier.

“You know Kalim you should tell her how you feel, she's not exactly going to be on the market forever you know” Jamil spoke, dusting the shelf that had started to collect dust.

Kalim huffed and groaned. Jamil was right. You weren't going to just be up for grabs forever. But how would he just tell you how he feels…

This was too complicated! Kalim wasn't used to not being able to express how he felt. He wants to tell you that you mean a lot to him. Which he does all the time but he wants you to know he doesn't mean it in the same way he means to his other friends.

He wants you to know you're special, that you're an even brighter star compared to him. Yet he's afraid that he'll mess everything up. What if you don't feel the same way about him? Kalims frown deepened and he sighed, slumping his shoulders.

Kalim played with the bracelet in his hands. Was this good enough? He made it himself with charms that reminded him of you. He didn't register the sound of footsteps approaching behind him.

“Good afternoon Kalim!” your voice rang out. The house warden basically sprung up, a smile spreading across his face upon hearing your voice. He turned and shoved the bracelet into his pocket.

“Hi, name!” He chirped, hugging you tightly. You let out a soft chuckle before wrapping your arms around him as well. He pulled away with a big dopey smile. You tilted your head and looked around.

“Jamil, is he not with you?” you asked. Kalim shook his head. You let out a hum before shrugging lightly. You flashed him a smile causing blood to rush to his cheeks.

“Well it's nice to catch you alone for once you always seem to be around someone, sometimes it's nice when it's just the two of us” you spoke, Kalim’s red eyes watched you.

He couldn't help the way his smile got bigger at your words. He felt the same way; it made his heart leap.

“Yup…just the two of us!” He exclaimed, his voice a little higher in pitch. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his fingers running over the bracelet. He was about to speak before you cut him off.

“You don't have any more classes today right?” You asked, turning your full attention to the house warden once more. Kalim nodded his head.

“Great, would you mind if I hung out in scarabia with you?” You said with a small tilt of your head.

“No, I wouldn't mind at all!” The snowy hair perked up.

On the walk there it was like Kalim was hyper aware of every guy to look in your direction. It made him feel so bad for feeling so bitter about it but he couldn't help it. Couldn't these guys just mind their own business?

You seemed to take notice of his demeanor being off“You okay, Kalim?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern. Your hand gently tugging on his sleeve.

Kalim blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Huh? Oh! Yeah, I’m fine! Totally fine!” He gave you a wide smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Odd.

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Are you sure? You’ve been kind of quiet.”

He swallowed nervously. You knew him too well. “I guess… I’ve just been thinking a lot lately,” he admitted, his voice softer.

You tilted your head, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. “Thinking? About what?”

Kalim hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about… you,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He couldn’t meet your gaze, his eyes glued to the ground.

“And how… you make me really happy.”

His words caught you off guard and you looked up at him. “I make you happy?” you repeated, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Kalim nodded quickly, his usual energy bubbling to the surface despite his nerves. “Yeah! Like, more than anyone else. I love being around you, and I always want to make you smile. But lately, I’ve been feeling… different.”

“And what do you mean by different?” You spoke moving closer to him. Your chest swirling with an …off but comforting feeling.

“Well it's just I… I get all weird whenever other guys start paying attention to you…” He admitted sheepishly. Your grin turned a bit more teasing.

“Awh, sounds like you're jealous,” you teased. His face redder a bit and he looked away.

“I …am” he responded. You weren't expecting him to just openly admit it. You blinked and recollected your thoughts. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Well that's actually kind of nice… to know you care enough to get jealous over me out of all people” you said, your tone a bit quieter now.

“Well of course I care about you…”

It got quiet for a bit. Neither of you speaking, just watching each other.

Kalim fidgeted with the bracelet still in his pocket, finally pulling it out and holding it out to you. “ Oh I made this for you. I’ve been trying to find the right time to give it to you…"

Your eyes softened as you reached out to take the bracelet, your fingers brushing against his. The charms were small but thoughtful .

“Kalim… it’s beautiful,” you whispered, slipping it onto your wrist.

“Thank y-”

“I-I like you!” he blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement. “Not just as a friend. I mean… I really really like you. You’re amazing, and I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but your smile grew even brighter. “Kalim…”

He held his breath, waiting for your response. His heart pounded so loudly he was sure you could hear it.

“I like you too,” you said softly. “I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Kalim’s eyes lit up like fireworks, a beaming grin spreading across his face. “You do? Really?”

You nodded, reaching out to take his hand. “Really. You’re the brightest part of my day, Kalim.”

Unable to contain his excitement, Kalim pulled you into a tight hug, spinning you around. You yelped in surprise.

As he set you down, still holding your hand, he looked at you with a warmth that made your cheeks flush.

“So… does this mean I can be your boyfriend?” he asked with a hopeful grin.

You chuckled softly and nodded. “I’d love that.”

Kalim’s heart soared. He never imagined this moment could feel so perfect. You were his now — and he was yours. Nothing could make him happier.

Jamil would never hear the end of how much he loves his girlfriend.

MASTERLIST

[gatorbites-imagines]

hiiiii!

may i request a poly ghost face x male reader who has anger issues(but he's such a bottom its sickening) and like his anger issues make people think he's all tough and he's been to like psychiatric hospitals for seriously hurting people and its times to renew his medicine but the doctor is out or they don't have his medicine in stock, so for the next week he has to go without medication and he gets into multiple physical fights and by the end of the week he like breaks down and is like "i don't wanna be angry all the time" which leads to a sweet cuddle session nd praise from billy and stu as reader cries and soon falls asleep

thank you sm!

Billy Loomis x Male reader X Stu Macher

Headcanons

Reader is on the more muscular side in this.

You had a reputation around Woodsboro, as a no fucks, dangerous and angry meathead. It mainly stemmed from the fact that you got into a lot of fights when you were younger, and was sent away to a psychiatric hospital for a while to find the right dose and medicine to give you.

It didn’t help that you lifted weights, worked out, and did different martial arts to help settle the anger that always simmered inside your body. As puberty hit, you shot up like a beanstalk, and you packed on muscle like no one’s business.

Your parents supported you, since having an outlet helped a lot with your anger issues, as long as you took your medicine, which they always made sure was available.

Because of your reputation, no one dares to say anything when you, Billy and Stu start openly dating. People are mostly confused by someone as popular and attractive as Billy and Stu would wanna go out with someone as rough and off-putting, in their eyes, as you.

Your boyfriends love you very much though, and they don’t mind your tendency to resort to anger quicker than most. Billy probably finds it hot to be honest, and Stu always likes to lay on your bed and watch as you lift weights in one of you tank tops.

I can honestly see Billy pushing your buttons just enough to make a vein pop and for you to pin him down, just for him to smirk and wrap his legs around your waist. Hes a little shit, and likes the thrill, what can I say.

Stu has definitely made comments about how if you need an outlet, he doesn’t mind help you out, if you know what I mean ;) ;)

You always just roll your eyes and go for a run to cool off, or do some other hobby your therapist and psychologist recommended, like gardening, journaling or coloring.

Your week starts of shitty, when you run out of your meds. Your parents take you to your doctor to get a new dose, but they’re all out and don’t know what they’ll get their next shipment.

They promise to get in contact with you as soon as they have it, and you get sent on your way, arriving at school later in the day than normal.

The first day or two is fine, since your last dose is still in your system, but when that runs out you start getting agitated. You grind your teeth and crack your fingers, feeling fidgety and so annoyed and angry by everything.

Literally everything pisses you off, from the way people chew gum, to how loudly people close their lockers, or how people cut in front of you in line in the cafeteria.

Billy is the first to notice how tense and agitated you are, as you prowl around like a caged tiger, glaring at everyone and everything. Stu notices not long after when you just grumble and mutter when he tries to play flirt with you or wrap his arm around you.

You get into multiple fights that week, from someone calling Stu and Billy a slur because you three are openly in a relationship, to a guy who bumper checked you on the way to school.

Normally Billy and Stu would enjoy the show of strength and how hot you look, but they can both see how miserable it makes you feel, especially when you are sent home and suspended for an entire week.

When you return home, you stomp upstairs into your room and throw off your jacket and shirt and just get to work lifting weights until everything hurts, and even then, you don’t stop.

Normally lifting weights help at least take the edge off, but nothing is working, only frustrating you more and making you even more angry. It reaches the point where you just wanna cry from how angry you are.

You don’t even notice how you’ve been at it for hours until Billy and Stu arrive and see you hunched over with a dumbbell, arms shaking from how far you’ve pushed yourself.

You are just scowling though, barring your teeth as you push yourself harder and harder, eyes shiny from unshed tears and very dehydrated from working yourself so hard.

Billy goes off to get you something to drink, some clean clothes and a wet washcloth, as Stu goes about getting the weight out of your hand and making sure you are at least okay. When he asks if you are okay, it just all spills over.

You start sobbing and shaking with anger and misery, crying into Stus shoulder as Billy returns. He puts the things he brought aside, and they just hold you as you cry, choking out how you just don’t wanna be so angry anymore, how everything hurts and nothing helps.

Your two lovers just hold you through it, letting you get out as much as you need, before they sit you up and Billy wipes you down with the wet cloth, and Stu gets you to drink the entire water bottle Billy brought to get you hydrated.

Stu holds you again as Billy gets the bed ready, and they pull you under the sheets as they cuddle up on either side of you, keeping you between them as they hold you close.

Because sure, they find your anger hot, but they hate how much pain it causes you. Cue lots of sweet cuddles and kisses from both, but the kisses are mostly from Stu as Billy mumbles all kinds of praise and compliments into your ear from behind.

I could imagine them also massaging your arms because of how hard you strained them, and their combined love and attention makes the anger lessen. It doesn’t go away, it never does, but it’s enough to knock you out.

The hours of working out, a week full of stress, and dehydration quickly knocks you out, putting you to sleep between Billy and Stu as they just hold you.

They know they cant make your problems go away, even though they wish they could, but they will stay by your side the entire way, and will never let you struggle alone.