#feeling lazy today and I hate drawing it

[carbon-corrie]

A little sunshine for everyone 🧡

[nounaarts]

I’ll finish this another day is what I’ll keep telling myself for the next week or so

[ihearthfjone]

How do you draw smc in a non-zesty way. well THERE'S NO WAY!!HES ALWAYS ZESTY!! I hate him so muc I hope he gets thrown into a snake pit custard cookie iii IS SUPERIOR, be grateful i even drew you stupid BLUE jester

[psformybss]

for secret fiancé reader could you maybe do like their instagram posts of each other or like the fans finding out?

(i love your writing soooo much btw) xx

Soft Launch (but not really)

series masterlist

pairing: drew starkey x secret fiancee!reader

warnings: fluff, cuddling, social media chaos, drew being soft, y/n being a menace, teddy is the real star

an: i loved both ideas so i combined them but thank you so much saying you love my writing that is the biggest compliment anyone could ever give me 🫶🏼

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

The room was a cocoon of quiet: low flickering light from the TV, Teddy softly snoring against Y/N’s stomach, and Drew’s steady breathing beside her, his fingers drawing mindless shapes on her back. They’d barely spoken in the last twenty minutes—no need to. The comfort between them was thick and easy, like a blanket they didn’t have to think about.

And then her phone started buzzing.

At first, just once. Then again. Then a burst of notifications that made Teddy grumble and lift his head, blinking like he’d been personally offended.

Y/N groaned, reaching blindly toward the nightstand. “What now?”

Drew didn’t even open his eyes. “Group chat meltdown?”

She turned the screen toward her. “Nope. Instagram.”

At that, Drew cracked one eye open. “Wait, what did you even post today?”

She gave him a look. “Seriously?”

He sat up a little, rubbing his face as the memory clicked. “Oh. Right. The birthday thing. The one you definitely didn’t tag me in.”

Y/N stifled a laugh, unlocking her phone as the notifications kept rolling in. “I thought I was being subtle.”

Drew shifted to lean against the headboard, pulling her back against his chest. “Apparently not subtle enough.”

Her thumb scrolled, and she read a few of the comments out loud between amused snorts.

“obxupdatesonly: who IS she and why is everyone tiptoeing in these comments??”

Drew raised his eyebrows. “They’re so dramatic.”

She kept scrolling. “drewstarkeysource: her posts are always quiet and lowkey but somehow he’s in half of them??”

He laughed at that. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“poguespilled: the way none of them have posted her but she’s clearly always there.” She shook her head. “Creepy accurate.”

“Told you,” he said, grinning. “You soft-launched me a year ago without realizing.”

“Oh no, it gets better,” Y/N said, voice rising with barely restrained laughter. “starkeysofts: this caption feels like a love letter in disguise. sorry i don’t make the rules.”

Drew let out a low whistle. “Yikes.”

“madibaeobsessed: ‘life lighter’ ‘something golden’ — you don’t write that about your friend.” She nudged his side with a smirk. “Guess we’re not fooling anyone.”

He took her hand, the one with the thin, gleaming band tucked just behind her knuckle, and pressed his thumb over it like muscle memory. “We didn’t exactly try that hard.”

“outerbanksanon: calling it now. soft launch of the century,” she read, then buried her face in his chest. “I hate how right they are.”

He grinned, resting his chin on top of her head. “I kind of love it.”

“jjxkiaraminds: who is she, and why do I want them to be in love.”

At that, they both laughed. Drew tilted her chin up just slightly. “Joke’s on them.”

“They got their wish.”

He kissed her once, soft and lazy. “Should we be worried?”

She shook her head, smile curling at the edges. “Nah. It’s still ours. They’re just guessing.”

“And guessing wrong,” he added, lifting her hand again and tapping the ring gently. “They have no idea how far in we are.”

“Exactly.” She grinned. “Let them think it’s a soft launch.”

Teddy gave an exaggerated sigh from beside them, clearly tired of the lack of attention.

Y/N set her phone aside, burrowing closer into Drew’s side. “Okay, mystery man. Want to finish the movie or read more fan theories about our non-existent relationship?”

Drew reached for the remote with a grin. “Let’s pretend we’re just friends a little longer. For sport.”

“And because it’s fun,” she added.

And just like that, with the world still trying to piece them together from crumbs and glances, they leaned into each other—quietly, secretly, completely theirs.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

ps. this was supposed to be posted yesterday but i made the mistake of writing it in here and somehow it deleted. also i could not figure out for the life of me how to make the instagram comments so i just wrote them into the story. i have a new found respect for people that write smau’s because it’s lowkey hella hard 😭

[alllgator-blood]

AS OF TODAY IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR SINCE I POSTED MY FIRST BISHOP REF SHEETS AUGHH!! Thought it'd be funny to do like a comparison thing of how they've changed or stayed the same after 365 days of drawing them. Gonna be SUPER lazy and just take their ref sheets from then + now and put the pngs side by side lmao.

Also gonna add a poll to the top part of this because ALTHOUGH I FEEL LIKE AN EGOMANIAC ASKING, this is the one day it feels appropriate to ask:

idek what I mean by iconic. Maybe just who you like best/whose design is your fave/who you think of first if you think of my blog? I've seen artists I like put up this same poll and I always wanted to try :')

ANYWAY. COMPARISON DRAWINGS + LONG RAMBLING BELOW THE CUT:

I think leshy has stayed the most consistent in my comics. He has some sad moments (because NOBODY'S safe), but when nothing is actively upsetting him, he's a very happy guy. He is NOT bogged down by the reality of his situation; he just likes to host bonfires, dance stupidly, draw comics and shake his followers to death between his teeth. I somehow have not altered the fact he's a stack of 6 wooden balls with limbs attached, I wanted him to look like a wood carved toy and frankly it's a pain in the ass to make art of him. But he's worth spending a million billion years drawing wood grain lines for <3

Generally he looks about the same as he did a year ago? The paws definitely changed but I like these guys to look more animal than humanoid, so the vaguely human-ish hands + feet had to go. It doesn't really come across, but his feet are now caterpillar suction cups to help him climb trees!

HEKET MY BELOVED. I really feel like I do her a disservice by not making much art of her and putting her really long angst comic on hold cause I wasn't happy with the ending, BUT I DO LOVE HER. Her personality hasn't changed much since her first iteration, which is to say she's still "generally pissed off and fairly arrogant, but loves her family and knows when she's gone too far".

But her ROLE in the comics definitely changed a lot. I have multiple unfinished comics and a ton of sketches where she acted as shamura's caretaker because kallamar was too squeamish to do it himself? That's why in my comics that take place in the infirmary, you can see her temple motif. BUUUT that ended up changing so now, as the second-most chronically ill of the family, she's too shook up to visit shamura in the hospital because all she thinks about is how that might be her someday.

KALLAMAR IS SO DIFFERENT. MAYBE THE MOST DIFFERENT OF THE FOUR. I made a lot of quality of life edits to these designs, mostly making the crowns shorter and removing the crosses, but kallamar's lumpiness had to go because it was so annoying to draw and I hated the implication that he was just a big writhing ball under his robes lmao. I also transed my kallamar's gender pretty early on (genderfluid...) but never outright said it I don't think? Initially I felt cringe for doing that but nowadays I've seen a LOT of people have transfem kallamars so like. I do feel better about it!

Kall went from generic "guy who sucks + is anxious + everyone hates him" to "the underappreciated glue that holds the entire family together, but silently grapples with the most feelings of impending doom" and I'm not sure how it happened. I'm very happy though because initially I didn't like him, but he fills gaps that the other three really can't fill, and I don't know what my comics would be like if I clearly hated his guts??

There they are.........my blorbo....the big cheese.....the eeby deeby. They were so obscenely silly in their first version, I literally forgot they used to look like that and burst out laughing when I found the old ref sheet.

I had no way of knowing that after drawing this image, I'd draw these stupid idiot cartoon cult leaders every day for the next 365 days, so initially shamura was just "haha funny senile spider" I think? I don't really remember when I settled on "senile spider that switches between kindly grandparent that tells old war stories / ETERNAL UNENDING SUFFERING. SALVATION SHALL NEVER COME FOR A THING AS WRETCHED AS I"? But if you told early 2024 me that I'd eventually make them like JACKED I wouldn't believe you lmfao

I dunno, I think about this character a lot so I'd be here all day if I talked about them. Both my headcanons for them, and the actual canon details are just. MWAH. I love them so very much. They're so tragic and I ball my fists and go "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH" when I think about how sad they are in the game. I love it.

I originally wrote a long thing about my personal life here but I felt like it was too overshare-y, so I'll just say that fixating on this game kinda saved my passion for comics. I think 2023/early 2024 were the absolute worst years of my art life; nobody was reading anything I made, I was too depressed to draw, and I stopped giving a shit about any of my OCs. But art/comics was my main way of coping, so it was just a neverending loop of "I'm too sad to draw" "but I'm sad so I want to draw" "but I can't because I'm sad" and nothing ever got done. Those silly shitty ref sheets were pretty much the only thing I managed to make during that whole time, I had NO idea it'd turn into a hyperfixation.

I figured it was weird to make fanart and not share it, so I started up this blog after posting to reddit. And a TON OF PEOPLE SAW THE FIRST ART I MADE. Idr how many but it was so much more feedback than I'd gotten like...ever?? Really it didn't pop off that much compared to other people's posts, but it was monumental for me. So that in combination with the hyperfixation's death grip on me got me to finally start regularly drawing again. Things are still shitty and it's hard to make it to the next day a lot of the time, but when I sit down and draw a silly worm or a big frog I feel a lot better.

I love these characters so so much, they're the perfect blend of cute and tragic, stylized but simple, and they have clear personalities but a lot of room for additions. ALSO they're weird species of animals, and I spent years of my life drawing exclusively underappreciated anthro species. I'm just very happy this game exists and came out when it did, because I definitely would've given up on comics by now if I didn't glom onto these characters.

This is getting really long. I know the anniversary of starting a fuckin blog not that deep but I don't really have like, a social life or support system or anything, so genuinely people sending me their art/ideas or saying they like my comics or just asking me about my headcanons is the best shit ever. Feels good to finally have something I care about that I can also share with people. I get overwhelmed easily and can't respond to everything even though I want to, but I promise this is so much better than the eternal feeling that everything I made wasn't worth reading.

So ah...if anybody is reading this, please know this silly cult game is the main source of my joy rn and just by looking at my art + comics, you've helped me more than you might know. Thank you

[jaeyunluvbot]

goodnight n go

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 vernon x fem!reader, kind of secret romance, college au

word count 𝟅𝟈 7.1k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The campus library hums with quiet activity: the scratch of pens, the faint tapping of keyboards, and whispers barely above a murmur. You’re in your usual corner, earbuds in and pretending you’re too absorbed in your screen to notice the commotion around you.

But you do notice. How could you not?

A burst of laughter draws your attention to the table just a few feet away. Of course, he’s there. Vernon Chwe.

He leans back in his chair, all lazy confidence, a backwards cap perched on his head like it’s an extension of his body. His hoodie looks soft, worn, perfectly slouchy, and it’s infuriating how good he looks without even trying. You force yourself to stare at your screen, typing nonsense just to look busy. He’s not even your enemy—not directly. But Vernon is part of Mingyu’s crowd, and that’s enough to keep him firmly on your ignore at all costs list.

You still remember how Jennie looked after her breakup with Mingyu—eyes puffy, voice breaking on every other word. She hasn’t explicitly told you to steer clear of Vernon, but loyalty doesn’t need to be spoken. Besides, you have no interest in frat boys who probably spend more time planning parties than studying.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You freeze. His voice cuts through the library like it has no regard for social norms—or the very clear quiet zone sign on the wall.

You don’t look up. Maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him—

“Y/N,” he says again, louder this time. A few heads turn in mild irritation. You want to sink into the floor.

Reluctantly, you pull out an earbud and glare at him. “What?” you hiss.

He holds up a battered blue binder. Your binder. Your name is scrawled across the front in black Sharpie, unmistakable.

“I think you forgot this after class,” he says, his tone casual, almost playful.

You stomp over and snatch it from his hands. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he replies, grinning like you just made his day. “Oh, and nice presentation today in Dr. Kim’s class. You really knew your stuff.”

Your chest tightens, and not in the way you’d like to admit. Compliments shouldn’t feel like this—not from him, anyway. You shrug, keeping your voice neutral. “Thanks.”

You turn to leave, eager to put as much distance between yourself and his stupidly charming face as possible.

“You know,” he calls after you, his voice light, teasing, “I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

You stop mid-step. Slowly, you glance back at him. “What are you talking about?”

He leans back in his chair, his grin widening. “I mean, you don’t have to avoid me so much. I’m not the one who broke Jennie’s heart.”

Heat floods your cheeks—half embarrassment, half fury. “I’m not avoiding you,” you snap, even though the words feel like a lie.

“Sure you’re not,” he says, his tone maddeningly smug. “See you around, Y/N.”

You hate the way his voice lingers in your head long after you’ve stomped back to your seat.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The house is packed, music thumping so loud you can feel it in your chest. You’re clutching a red solo cup—not because you’re particularly in the mood to drink, but because it gives you something to do with your hands. Jennie’s off somewhere, probably gossiping with Irene and Seulgi, leaving you to hover near the snacks, pretending you’re not awkwardly alone in the middle of a frat house.

You don’t even know why you came.

Actually, that’s a lie—you know exactly why. Jennie had heard NCT was throwing the party, and you didn’t want to spend another Friday night alone in your dorm. But now, as you watch the endless crowd of people, you’re questioning your life choices.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You don’t have to look up to know who it is.

Vernon Chwe.

His voice is casual, but when you glance at him, he’s smiling, almost like he’s been waiting for this moment. He’s ditched the usual hoodie for a plain black t-shirt and jeans, his hair falling messily over his forehead. It’s ridiculous how effortlessly good he looks.

“Didn’t think I’d see you either,” you reply, your tone sharper than intended.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Why’s that?”

“I didn’t think frat parties were your thing.”

“Really? I live here.”

Your face heats up at your own stupidity. He just laughs, shaking his head. “Relax, I’m kidding. I don’t live here, but I might as well with how often I’m around. The brothers in NCT are friends of my frat”

You roll your eyes. “Of course they are.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to feel awkward. You glance at the door, contemplating an escape, but before you can bolt, Vernon leans a little closer.

“You look like you’re having a terrible time,” he says, his voice low enough that it feels like a secret between the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Come on,” he insists. “I saw you glaring at the chips like they personally offended you.”

You almost laugh despite yourself. “Maybe they did.”

He grins, taking a sip from his own cup. “Tell you what—let’s make it less terrible. There’s a quieter spot upstairs. Wanna come?”

Every sensible part of you screams no. This is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid. But something about the way he’s looking at you, his smile soft and unassuming, makes you hesitate. Against your better judgment, you nod.

Vernon leads you to a room at the end of the hall, far enough from the party that the music feels like background noise. There’s an old couch in the corner, and he flops down, patting the seat next to him.

You hesitate, but sit down anyway, keeping a safe distance.

“See? Much better,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms across the top of the couch.

“You didn’t bring me here to murder me, did you?” you joke, crossing your arms.

He snorts. “If I wanted to murder you, I wouldn’t have picked a frat party. Too many witnesses.”

“Good point.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. It’s not the awkward silence you expected. It’s…comfortable.

“So,” he says, breaking the quiet, “why do you hate me?”

Your head snaps toward him. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“It’s fine,” he says, shrugging. “I get it. Jennie’s your friend, and Mingyu’s my friend. Guilty by association.”

You don’t know how to respond to that.

“I just think it’s kind of unfair,” he adds, his voice quieter now. “You don’t even know me.”

Something in his tone catches you off guard—he sounds almost…vulnerable.

You glance at him, and for the first time, you let yourself really look. He’s not grinning or teasing. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you to say something.

You glance at him, and for the first time, you let yourself really look. He’s not grinning or teasing. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you to say something.

“I guess…I never gave you a chance,” you admit, the words feeling heavier than they should.

He smiles, but it’s small and almost shy. “Well, I’m glad we’re fixing that now.”

You’re not sure why your chest feels so tight, or why your heart is beating so fast. All you know is that Vernon Chwe might be a problem—a very, very big problem.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’ve never been one to lose track of time, especially not at a party. But as you sit on the worn couch in that quiet upstairs room, hours pass like minutes.

Vernon has a way of talking that catches you off guard. He’s not loud or overbearing like you imagined a frat boy would be. Instead, his words are thoughtful, his voice calm, like he’s actually listening and not just waiting for his turn to speak.

Somehow, the conversation flows from harmless small talk—classes, shared professors, and how the campus coffee shop is ridiculously overpriced—to deeper things.

“You know, when I found out you were friends with Jennie I was surprised,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow, leaning back into the couch.

“Yeah. You don’t have that… sorority vibe, you know?”

“And what vibe do I have, exactly?”

He grins, his eyes flickering to yours for a moment before he looks away. “You seem like you’ve got it all together, but there’s a lot more going on under the surface. Like, you’re the type of person who stays up all night overthinking things.”

Your stomach flips at how accurate that is. You cover it with a laugh. “What, did you take a psychology class or something?”

“Nah,” he says, still smiling. “I’m just good at reading people.”

“Then why didn’t you read that I don’t like you?”

It’s meant to be a jab, but it comes out softer than you intended.

He shrugs. “Because I don’t think that’s true.”

You scoff, but he doesn’t back down. His gaze lingers on you, not in an intimidating way, but like he’s trying to figure out how you work.

“Okay, fine,” you say, breaking the tension. “Maybe I didn’t like you before.”

“But now?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

You roll your eyes. “You’re…less annoying than I thought you’d be.”

“Wow, high praise,” he says, grinning.

You can’t help but smile back.

At some point, the conversation shifts to childhood memories. You tell him about the time you broke your mom’s favorite vase and tried to blame it on your cousin, only for your little brother to rat you out. He laughs, and it’s this deep, genuine sound that makes your chest feel warm.

In return, he tells you about the time he got his head stuck between the bars of a park fence and how Mingyu had to call their RA to get him out.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you say, laughing, “the fact that you got stuck or the fact that you had to call for help.”

“Hey, I was, like, eight,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Cut me some slack.”

“Sure, sure,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye.

Before you realize it, the music from downstairs starts to fade, the party winding down. You check your phone—it’s past midnight.

“I should probably get going,” you say, though you don’t really want to.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Me too.”

As you head downstairs together, the air between you feels different. Lighter. For the first time, you don’t feel the need to keep your guard up around him.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, he turns to you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “This was…nice.”

You nod. “Yeah, it was.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to say something else, but instead, he just smiles. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Vernon.”

As you walk home, your thoughts race. You still don’t know what to make of him, but one thing’s for sure—he’s not at all what you expected.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, you stumble out of bed and drag yourself downstairs to the kitchen, still in your pajamas. Your mind is hazy, last night’s events with Vernon replaying on a constant loop. You’re still trying to piece together how you ended up talking to him for hours, completely forgetting you were supposed to dislike him.

As you enter the kitchen, the lively chatter of your sorority sisters fills the air. Jennie, Irene, Seulgi, and Chaeyoung are crowded around the table, coffee mugs and half-eaten bagels scattered in front of them.

“Finally! Sleeping Beauty decided to join us,” Jennie teases, raising her mug in your direction.

“Morning,” you mumble, grabbing a mug for yourself and pouring some coffee.

“So, where did you disappear to last night?” Chaeyoung asks, looking at you curiously.

You nearly drop the coffee pot. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Irene says, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “One minute you were with us, the next you vanished into thin air.”

“Yeah,” Jennie chimes in, narrowing her eyes at you. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Your brain scrambles for an excuse. “I, uh… I left early. I had a headache.” You force a casual shrug, praying they won’t press further.

“Really?” Jennie asks, her voice skeptical.

“Yup. Didn’t want to ruin the vibe for anyone, so I just went home,” you say quickly, pouring yourself some coffee and taking a long sip to avoid their gazes.

Thankfully, Seulgi changes the subject. “Honestly, I don’t blame you. Those frat boys were so obnoxious.”

“Right?” Irene says, rolling her eyes. “Especially Mingyu’s friends. They’re the worst.”

You freeze, your stomach twisting.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jennie groans. “Mingyu’s bad enough on his own, but all of them together? They’re insufferable.”

You stare down at your mug of coffee.

“Who even invited them anyway?” Chaeyoung adds.

“Probably Jaehyun,” Jennie mutters. “I think he’s like, friends with Mingyu or something.”

You sit in silence, staring into your mug as their voices swirl around you. They have no idea what you were doing last night—who you were talking to—and guilt settles heavily in your chest.

But why should you feel guilty? It’s not like you did anything wrong.

Still, you can’t help but think about Vernon’s laugh, his surprisingly thoughtful responses, and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his favorite movies. He didn’t seem like the person they’re describing.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice pulls you back to reality.

“What?”

“Are you coming with us to brunch later?”

“Oh. Uh, maybe. I’ll see how I’m feeling,” you say, your voice distant.

Jennie nods, not entirely convinced, but doesn’t push. As the conversation shifts, you force yourself to focus on anything other than Vernon.

But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about him, a fact that has guilt eating you alive from the inside.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days pass, and despite your best efforts to keep Vernon out of your head, he somehow keeps finding ways to slip back in. It doesn’t help that he texts you memes or random thoughts like, "Do you think penguins get cold?" throughout the day, making you smile when you shouldn’t.

You try to bury the guilt. You really do. But when Vernon suggests sneaking into your sorority house for a movie night—because his frat is too loud, and “your room probably smells better than mine”—you can’t seem to say no.

“Fine,” you whisper-yell into the phone. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“I can live with that,” he replies with a laugh.

A couple of hours later, Vernon is sprawled on the rug in your room, munching on chips he insisted on bringing while you sit cross-legged on your bed, watching Shrek 2. You hate how easy it is to be around him, how natural it feels to laugh with him like this.

“You know,” he says, turning to look at you, “for someone who supposedly hates me, you’re pretty bad at showing it.”

You roll your eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “Shut up and watch the movie.”

But just as he’s about to throw a chip back at you, there’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice cuts through the playful atmosphere like a knife.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You practically leap off the bed, gesturing frantically for Vernon to hide. He scrambles behind your bed just as you crack the door open, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Hey, Jen,” you say, forcing a smile.

“Are you coming to dinner with us?” she asks, peering into your room suspiciously.

“Oh, uh… maybe later,” you stammer. “I’m just… talking to my mom.”

Jennie raises an eyebrow. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, she called, and we’ve just been catching up,” you say quickly, holding up your phone for emphasis.

“Okay,” Jennie says slowly, clearly unconvinced. She glances behind you, as if she can sense something is off. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yep, totally fine!” you say, practically shoving the door closed. “Have fun at dinner!”

You shut the door and lean against it, your heart pounding.

From behind the desk, Vernon’s muffled laughter bubbles up. “Your mom, seriously?”

“Shut up!” you hiss, glaring at him.

He emerges from his hiding spot, grinning like an idiot. “That was smooth. Really convincing.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe this,” you mutter, flopping onto your bed. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” he says, sitting cross-legged on the rug again. “You’re the one who let me in.”

You throw another pillow at him, which he easily catches.

“Just admit you like me,” he teases, leaning back on his hands with that stupid, cocky grin.

You grab another pillow, ready to hurl it, but his words hit a little too close to home. Your grip loosens, and the pillow falls to your lap as your cheeks flush.

“See? You can’t even deny it,” he says, his voice softer now, his teasing tone giving way to something more genuine.

You hate that he’s right. But admitting it? That’s a whole other thing.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s been a whirlwind of late-night sneaking, secret hangouts, and way too much Vernon. Not that you’d admit you enjoy it.

Vernon has gotten way too comfortable invading your life. He texts you constantly, calls when you’re least expecting it, and—when he’s feeling particularly bold—throws in a casual, “Miss me yet?” with a winky face. You hate that the answer is always yes.

To make matters worse, Jennie has been clinging to you like never before. She’s always suggesting lunch dates or study sessions, and you can’t say no without feeling like the worst friend in the world.

Balancing both is exhausting. It feels like you’re living two lives: one where you’re Jennie’s loyal best friend, and one where you’re Vernon’s… whatever you are.

One afternoon, when the stress feels like it’s going to eat you alive, you knock on Chaeyoung’s door, desperate for advice. She’s lounging on her bed with a sketchpad when you walk in, looking up with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s with the dramatic entrance?” she asks.

“I need help,” you say, collapsing into her beanbag chair.

“Uh-oh. Is this about Jennie or Vernon?”

Your head snaps up. “How did you—?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “It’s obvious. You’ve been weirdly busy lately, but you look way too happy for it to just be school. Plus, Vernon keeps staring at you in class.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m doomed.”

“Okay, spill,” Chaeyoung says, setting her sketchpad aside.

You tell her everything—how Vernon wormed his way into your life, how he’s not the annoying frat boy you thought he’d be, how you actually like spending time with him.

“But Jennie,” you say, throwing your hands up. “She’d kill me if she found out. And I don’t even know what this is with Vernon. It’s not like we’re dating, but…”

“But you want to,” Chaeyoung finishes for you.

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Chaeyoung leans back, thoughtful. “Well, Vernon didn’t do anything to Jennie. That was all Mingyu.”

“I know,” you say quickly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates Vernon by association. If she knew I was hanging out with him…”

“She’d be pissed,” Chaeyoung finishes with a sigh.

“Exactly,” you mutter, slumping further into the beanbag.

Chaeyoung looks at you sympathetically. “Okay, but hear me out. Do you really think this is sustainable? Sneaking around, lying to Jennie, sneaking Vernon into the house… You’re gonna crack eventually.”

You don’t want to admit she’s right, but you know she is. The thought of coming clean terrifies you, though. What if Jennie takes it the wrong way? What if she gets mad and it ruins your friendship?

“I just… I don’t know how to tell her,” you admit quietly.

“Well,” Chaeyoung says, smirking a little, “if Vernon is as crazy about you as he seems, maybe it’s worth taking the risk.”

Her words stick with you longer than you’d like. But are you brave enough to actually act on them?

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

This time, your sorority is the one hosting a party, the kind of event where you can already feel your exhaustion just from the noise and the amount of people packed into your sorority house. It’s loud and flashy, with your sisters dancing and laughing, and—against all expectations—Jennie has begrudgingly invited the Seventeen frat. You know why she did it. Drinks, snacks, and the usual frat chaos that she’s come to rely on for a good time.

But you? You’re stuck. You’ve spent most of the night glued to Jennie’s side, unable to sneak away, unable to make any excuse to disappear into the crowd where you could catch a glimpse of Vernon. The tension in the air is thick, and you can’t avoid the prickle of guilt as you glance across the room and catch sight of him. His eyes meet yours for a second, and you can almost feel the way his smile falters. He tries to move closer, but Jennie’s hand tugs you away, her chatter drowning out everything else.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Jennie says, pulling you into the middle of the room, and you can’t help but notice how she deliberately blocks Vernon from your line of sight.

You nod and force a smile. You hate this. You hate the way you’re pretending, the way you’re avoiding him, as though everything that’s been between you suddenly doesn’t matter. But Jennie doesn’t know, and you can’t risk it. Not when she’s this protective of you. You’d never hear the end of it.

Vernon, on the other hand, doesn’t let it slide. As the night stretches on, you can see him trying to talk to you. A quick chat, maybe a dance, a little smile. Each time, you have to turn away, pretending you don’t feel the pull in your chest. He’s not buying it.

Finally, he steps back, his lips curling into a sharp smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Okay, cool,” he mutters, the hurt clear in his tone. “I see how it is.” He turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

Jennie notices. “Haha, that’s weird. Why is he only talking to you?” she asks, a tinge of knowing in her voice.

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. “Yeah, definitely. I don’t know why he was talking to me either.”

The words burn in your mouth, and you want to kick yourself. It’s all a lie. A lie you’ve been feeding to Jennie, to yourself, to everyone. But the guilt is too much, and you just need to get through tonight.

When the party dies down, and you finally find an excuse to leave, you head upstairs, your heart heavy with a mix of guilt and regret. You barely get your door closed before you pull out your phone and start typing to Vernon.

Hey… I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to be weird. I just didn’t know what to do.

You wait, staring at the screen, hoping for the buzz of a reply. But it never comes. A few minutes pass, then thirty, then an hour. Your thumb hovers over the screen, ready to type again, but no new message comes in.

Finally, you give up, tossing your phone aside and heading into the bathroom. You turn the shower on, trying to wash away the anxiety that’s coiling in your stomach. It doesn’t work.

You curl into bed, the sheets cold against your skin, but nothing can stop your thoughts from swirling. You feel horrible for betraying Jennie, for lying to her. But then there’s Vernon, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed him too. What’s worse is you can’t even tell Jennie the truth because it would hurt her, and you can’t risk that. You feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of it all.

The knock on your door comes hours later, and when you open it, Jennie is standing there, still in her outfit from the party, her expression soft.

“Hey,” she says, her voice quiet. “Can I come in?”

You nod silently, stepping aside to let her in.

“I know something’s up,” she says, sitting on your bed. “You’ve been acting weird all night. You can tell me, you know. I’m your friend.”

You stand there for a moment, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill. You want to tell her. You want to be honest. But the truth feels impossible to say.

“I can’t,” you say, shaking your head. “I just… I feel awful. I don’t know what to do.”

Jennie sighs, looking at you with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. But it sounds like you need some time to figure things out. Just know I’m here if you need me, okay?”

You give a shaky nod.

Jennie stands and pats your shoulder gently. “If you need to talk, I’m here. But take your time. Just don’t keep it all in too long, okay?”

You whisper, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” she says softly, offering you a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll figure it out.”

As she walks out, you close the door behind her, burying your face in your hands. The guilt is suffocating, but you also know that Jennie is right. You have a lot to figure out—and soon.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Everyone is packing up, signaling the end of another lecture. You grab your things quickly, your thoughts racing. This is it. You can’t keep avoiding him, and you can’t let things stay awkward between you and Vernon any longer. You know he’s been hurt, and you can’t just let it fester.

As you walk out of class, you spot him talking to a few of his friends, his back turned to you. You hesitate for a second, wondering if you should just leave it for another day, but then you square your shoulders and head toward him.

“Vernon,” you call, and his shoulders stiffen before he turns around to face you. The moment his eyes meet yours, you see the flicker of wariness in them, the same hesitation that you’ve been feeling.

“Hey,” he greets you, his voice neutral but with a hint of something else. He’s not mad, but it’s clear he’s still hurt.

You bite your lip, knowing this is going to be a bit of a confrontation. “Can we talk?”

His gaze flickers to his friends, who are still hanging around, laughing and joking. He looks back at you, eyes narrowed slightly. “What about?”

You take a deep breath. “I just… I want to apologize for what happened at the party. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You’re serious?” He laughs dryly, a little incredulity in his tone. “After everything, now you want to apologize?”

You can tell he’s holding back, trying not to sound too hurt or too bitter, but you know him well enough by now to catch it. You step closer, lowering your voice so only he can hear. “Yeah, I’m serious. I messed up, okay? But can we talk about it, like, without everyone else around?”

Vernon hesitates, glancing at his friends again, who are still chatting, not paying much attention to either of you. He seems reluctant to leave them, but then he sighs and looks back at you. “I’m not sure what we’re gonna talk about that’s so urgent, but fine. Let’s go.”

You lead the way to the small café off-campus, the one where you both have shared stolen moments before. It’s always been a place for you to get away from everything and everyone. Just the two of you. You can’t help but hope this conversation will get you back to where you were before everything got so messy.

When you get there, Vernon still seems distant. He orders a coffee and takes a seat at one of the far booths, clearly not thrilled about being there, but you don’t let it stop you. You sit across from him, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down between you.

“So?” Vernon asks after a beat, his voice softer, more vulnerable than before.

You swallow hard, the guilt rushing back in full force. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought if I just ignored everything, it would be easier. I didn’t want to hurt Jennie, and I didn’t want you to think I was picking sides or something.”

Vernon leans back in the booth, clearly not convinced, but willing to listen. “And now? Now you’re ready to make it right?”

You nod, your eyes meeting his. “I don’t want to keep avoiding you. I never should have ignored you, Vernon. I care about you. I’m just… trying to figure things out.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge whether or not you mean it. Finally, he lets out a breath and looks away, taking a sip of his coffee. “You know, I didn’t expect it to be like this. I didn’t expect you to pretend I didn’t exist, Y/N.”

The words sting, but you know he’s right. You were too afraid of what it could mean to let yourself be real with him. You glance down at your hands, suddenly feeling the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m here now. I’m not running away anymore.”

Vernon doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at you, as if weighing your words. Then, slowly, he gives you a small nod. “Okay. I’ll take that.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank you.”

He looks at you, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But you still owe me something.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean?”

His grin widens, the playfulness in his tone returning. “A little honesty. You can’t just tell me that you’re not running away and expect me to believe that everything’s all good now. I want to know why you were so damn scared of me.”

Your cheeks heat up, and you look away, embarrassed. “Vernon, stop.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying teasing you. “Come on. Just admit it. You like me.”

You groan and shake your head, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just admit it, Y/N. I know you like me, at least a little.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the flutter in your stomach. “Fine, I like you a tiny bit. Happy now?”

Vernon’s grin softens, and he sits back in his seat, clearly satisfied. “Much better.”

There’s a shift in the air between you two, something lighter, more comfortable. You both know things aren’t perfect yet, but you’ve crossed a bridge, and it feels like a good step forward.

For the first time in a while, you’re not dreading what’s to come. You’re just here with him. And, for now, that’s enough.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The cold of winter had been relentless lately, and you’ve been spending most of your time bundled up in layers of blankets, trying to stay warm while surviving the stress of exam season. Between your studies, your sorority obligations, and the pressure of keeping everything balanced, you’ve barely had time for anything else.

But tonight, when you were in the middle of reviewing your notes, your phone buzzed with a message from Vernon.

Vernon: Yo, I’m locked out of the frat house. Can I crash at yours?

You bite your lip, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is around. Technically, you’re not allowed to have overnight guests, but you can’t help but feel for him. The cold night air must be unbearable, and you know Vernon well enough to know he won’t ask for help unless he really needs it.

You: I’m not supposed to have anyone here, but I’ll make an exception for you this time.

Vernon: Thanks. I swear I’ll be out of your hair by morning. Promise.

A few minutes later, Vernon’s at your door, his face a little red from the cold, looking as casual as ever in his hoodie and jeans. You step aside to let him in.

“You’re lucky I’m a softie for you,” you tease, but the warmth you’re offering him is genuine as he steps inside.

“I know. I owe you one,” Vernon replies, smiling that crooked smile of his that always manages to make your heart skip.

You show him to your room, where you pull out the air mattress you keep tucked away in the corner for emergencies like this. “I’ve got this, but it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world. You’re welcome to it.” You hand him a pillow and a blanket.

He frowns slightly, eyeing the air mattress. “It’ll do.” He flops down on it with a huff, and you return to your side of the room, trying to focus on your notes again.

But the chill in the room isn’t just from the weather. The heating’s been out in the house for the past few days, and no amount of blankets seems to be helping. After a few minutes of shivering under your own covers, you turn to Vernon on the floor.

“You’re probably freezing down there,” you say, already feeling guilty.

He shrugs, but you can tell from his expression that he’s cold.

“I don’t want you getting sick,” you continue. “You can join me in the bed, if you want. It’ll be warmer with both of us.”

Vernon looks at you for a beat, hesitating, but ultimately nods. “Ok. But no funny business.”

“Of course,” you say, trying to hide your grin, but your heart is already racing a little.

He slides into the bed next to you, and you both lie there, staring up at the ceiling, neither of you speaking for a long while. The silence is oddly comfortable, but it’s also loaded—with so many unsaid things.

The two of you just lay there, listening to the sounds of the night, the quiet of your room feeling oddly intimate with him so close.

Finally, Vernon breaks the silence with a sigh, his voice just above a whisper. “You know… we’d be great together.”

You snap your head toward him, caught completely off guard. “What?”

His eyes are already on you, his expression serious. “I’m tired of always having to say goodnight and go. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

Your heart does a flip in your chest. You stare at him, your mind scrambling to make sense of his words, unsure of how to respond.

“What?” you repeat, because you can’t think of anything else to say. Your voice is shaky, a mixture of disbelief and something else you can’t quite name.

Vernon sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You heard me.”

He shifts closer, his hand brushing against yours under the covers. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes you feel like your heart might just fall out of your chest.

“I’m tired of pretending,” he adds quietly. “I can’t keep doing this—acting like I don’t want more than just late-night talks and goodbyes.”

You feel your chest tighten, a swirl of emotions crashing into you all at once. You want to say something, but words feel inadequate, too small for the way you’re feeling right now.

Instead, you just stare at him, your breath catching in your throat. He’s close now, so close that you can feel the heat from his body, and his eyes are filled with an intensity that you didn’t know he could have.

You open your mouth, but the words get stuck. What is there to say when everything between you feels so... complicated? So dangerous? You can’t let this happen. Not now.

But before you can respond, Vernon speaks again. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—” He pauses, shaking his head slightly, like he’s unsure of how to finish his thought. “I just needed you to know.”

Your heart is racing. You want to pull away, but something about the way he’s looking at you keeps you rooted to the spot. There’s no denying it anymore—there’s something between you and Vernon. Something real.

But the reality of your situation sinks in like a stone in your stomach. You can’t let it happen. Not now, not like this.

“I—Vernon…” You trail off, unable to finish. It’s like your brain is in a fog, fighting against your heart’s instincts.

Vernon’s hand brushes against yours again, his fingers almost touching yours. “I’m not asking for anything right now. I just want to be close to you. And I want you to know how I feel.”

For a moment, all you can do is lie there, lost in the weight of his words. You don’t know what to say, but you know that the longer you stay in this moment, the harder it’s going to be to walk away from whatever this is between you.

All you can do is look at him, and in the silence of the room, let his confession hang in the air.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The weight of the secret has been hanging over you for so long, and you've finally had enough of pretending. You’ve been running from this, trying to keep your two lives separate, but the pressure is starting to get unbearable. You know you can’t hide it anymore, not from Jennie—especially not now.

You find her in the living room of your sorority house, sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone. The warmth of the fire crackling in the background is a sharp contrast to the cold you’ve been carrying in your chest for weeks. You take a deep breath and sit next to her, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Hey, Jen?”

She looks up, a soft smile forming on her lips. “What’s up?”

“I—I need to tell you something,” you start, your words tripping over each other. “About... Vernon. And me.”

Jennie quirks an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Finally,” she says with a knowing look.

You blink, completely caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

Jennie laughs softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I was wondering when you’d come clean.”

You stare at her, dumbfounded. “You knew?”

Her laugh grows louder as she shakes her head. “You’re really not the best liar, you know. I could tell something was up, and you weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

“I—" You cut yourself off, unable to form a coherent thought as the realization hits you. “So, that whole time you—?”

Jennie shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I kept bringing up how much I hated his friend group because I wanted to see how long it would take you to crack. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, but then, something inside you relaxes. You laugh, feeling the tension inside of you dissolve for the first time in ages. “I can’t believe you knew this whole time and didn’t say anything!”

Jennie smirks, her eyes softening. “You needed to figure it out on your own. And hey, you did. So I’m happy for you.”

You feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. All the guilt, the secrets, the tension—all gone in an instant. Jennie is happy for you, and you didn’t have to hide anymore.

With a deep breath, you pull out your phone and send Vernon a quick text:

You: Come over. We need to talk.

The moment your finger leaves the send button, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. Jennie notices your expression and gives you a soft, knowing smile.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “Go after what you want.”

The doorbell rings a short while later, and you almost jump out of your skin. Jennie watches you go with a teasing smile, and you roll your eyes before heading to the door.

When you open it, Vernon’s standing there, a little unsure, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His eyes search yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something.

You pull him up the stairs once again, except this time, you don’t have to hide or worry about someone finding out. It’s strangely freeing.

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping aside so he can come in. “I, uh… I’ve been thinking a lot about us, and about everything.”

He steps inside your room, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and hope in his eyes. And for a moment, you just stand there, the space between you two thick with unspoken words.

You take a deep breath, your nerves getting the best of you for just a second. “Vernon, I—I didn’t want to keep lying to myself anymore. Or to you. I told Jennie about us.”

Vernon’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I’ve been hiding how I feel for so long,” you continue, stepping closer to him, “and it’s stupid. I don’t want to keep pretending. I like you. I really like you.”

A smile starts to tug at the corners of Vernon’s lips, and without thinking, you rush to add, “I’m not expecting anything, but I just—”

Before you can finish, Vernon cuts you off, closing the gap between you and pulling you into a kiss that feels like the weight of everything falling away. All the confusion, the guilt, the fear—it all melts as his lips find yours, soft and warm.

When he pulls back, his eyes are shining. “You don’t have to say anything more. I already know.”

You smile, your heart beating wildly. This is it. This is what you’ve been wanting, and now you’re finally getting it.

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, and you can feel everything shifting between you two—like the world is finally falling into place.

The kiss is everything you’ve been wanting and more, full of tenderness and passion, but also full of understanding. You’ve both been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now it’s finally here.

When you break away, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you smiling like you’ve just found something precious.

“I think this is the start of something good,” Vernon murmurs, his voice full of certainty.

You nod, your heart full. “Yeah, I think it is.”

And for the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy, knowing that you’ve let go of your fears and embraced what you really want.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 i love vernon and i love this song

masterlist.

[olivia-willo-w]

Random obey me NSFW Headcanon!

(Also I tried to make it gender neutral but some things are still... More F!reader. Sorry! Still testing.)

Warning! NSFW suggestions under the cut!

Lucifer:

Would most certainly either be tourturingly slow or fast as fuck.

Most likely to pound into you after a bunch of work.

Cock warming probably the thing you guys would do most often, who can resist some work sex tho?

Often or not, there's a thrill of getting caught.

Either way, he still teases you and asserts dominance.

Mammon:

Will and would mark you as his.

Would put the hickeys somewhere easy to spot, like your arms, legs face.

Would HATE it when other went up to you the next day since he would want to take care of you.

Wouldn't mind being sub but would more often pound you with reckless abandon.

Leviathan:

If we were talking usually, this bbg is a sub.

He would be blushing, moaning mess as you ride/tease/suck his cock.

Like, he would be the loudest in the house when it came to sex, and he would always ask if you and him could possibly do positions he found from manga/anime.

BUT, when he's jealous beyond repair, things are taking a 180°.

He would brand you, complain how it's not fair for others to even see you, and how you barely pay attention to him.

Would fuck you or make you ride him will grumbling and pouting.

Satan:

He has no experience whatsoever, but he has some knowledge about this from books he's read.

He usually would take it slow and steady, giving you room to adjust and get used to before he quickens the speed.

But if he's mad, he would not really give two fucks about that.

He would just go, "Strip." And more often and not do it right then and there in his room.

Obviously, if he hurt you, he would apologize non-stop afterwards.

Asmodeus:

The king has TONS, of experience as the avatar of lust.

He can take you on any furniture, any position, and any speed.

He would more often then not either video you and him making out, or if your not comfortable with that, he would fuck you in front of the mirror so you can watch your face as you moan in pleasure.

Often or not he would be always asking if today's the day, or if you guys could go again.

It's not likely you would get hurt when it comes with him and sex. He has a LOT of experience in this.

Beelzebub:

At first, he's a little confused, so... You kind of have to make some of his innocence go away by explaining.

After you explain, he understands and nods, asking if that's what you want he can try his best.

Mostly, he would be eating you out to satisfy his hunger and taste you.

But, on the rare occasions he's not eating you out, he could be slamming his cock into you, slowly but brutally.

Belphegor:

As the smart but lazy person he is, he would always make you ride him.

He wouldn't care if you do it in his sleep, as long as he feeling the jolts of pleasure.

Most of the time, he would be drawing lazy patterns on your thigh as you ride him.

There are occasions where Lucifer makes him so angry, he just has to release it.

And when he does release that anger, like Satan, it would mostly be brutal fucking.

He would just fuck you fast and hard without stopping for awhile, muttering curses under his breath about Lucifer.

When he's done, hell just fall on top of you and take a nap, he needs one!

That's it! Hope you enjoyed! This is honestly my first time writing NSFW sooo... Enjoy!

[astrxsee]

y’all i need help after this.. part 1 part 2 bowler!price x bartender!reader

the loud clinking of ice and bowling pins being toppled over filled your ears. it was another wednesday night at your part time job at the alley. your feet were sore from restocking coolers, filling buckets, and greeting customers. usually, you dreaded working here but the past couple of weeks have been… interesting.

your shift was now filled with flirty comments and tense glances. john’s eyes never left you when you were near him, no matter what he was doing. his bright blues followed your body, a small smirk on his face when you meet his gaze.

it was as if he was watching you, making sure none of the old, nasty bowlers touched you. like you were his.

john loved to mess with you, loved to see your face flush around him. he’d try to trip you, get in your way, or make teasing comments about your clothes. his actions always met with a disapproving eye roll from you. on the inside, though, the rush of even just talking to him almost made you pass out.

“hey, y/n, are you good with computers?” john’s deep voice calls from behind you, breaking you out of your haze. you turn around, easily letting a sweet smile onto your face.

“yeah actually, what can I help you with?” you say, with a slight giggle. deciding to be bold, you slide smoothly into the chair next to him. he tries to hide the smile on his face at your closeness.

“think you could go put us in as the winners for today?” his words make you laugh, totally catching you off guard. league wasn’t even halfway over.

“mmm… i’m sorry sir, I don’t think I can do that for you.” you giggle out, giving his bicep a teasing slap. you shake your head as he rolls his eyes at you.

“what, are you doing that bad i have to fix it for you?” his eyes go wide in feigned hurt, gasping slightly. you glance up at the scoreboard, seeing his first two frames were not the best. a stern swat to your thigh quickly has your attention back on john, his blue eyes finding yours.

“watch, now that you finally came and talked to me, princess,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in close to your lips, “I’ll be the best one on the team.”

and when you look back at the scoreboard five minutes later, he’s got four strikes in a row.

———

it’s a lazy sunday morning when your phone buzzes, a text message from april, your coworker, lighting up your screen.

april<3

girl, your man is here with his WIFE??

HES MARRIED

GIRL WHAT she literally looks exactly like you i’m dead

lmao they act like they hate each other 😭

the sudden flurry of texts had your mind racing… he was married but he still looked at you like you were his. you dragged a hand down your face, groaning.

of course he was married, how could someone as handsome and capable as john not be married. all that happened between you two was nothing more than flirting, and that was all that it would ever be.

though, you couldn’t help but to think about him when touching yourself that night.

———

your eyes are trained on the muscles of his back as he leans over to untie his bowling shoes. deciding that it was now or never, once again, you softly sit down into the seat beside him. his lazy, hypnotic smile greedily draws your gaze immediately.

facing him, you finally notice how close you two are. with your thighs and shoulders touching, you can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks.

“um, we’re about to close, do you want anything else?” you say softly, making sure he knew he was the only one that could hear.

his eyes drop to your hands in your lap as he leans back slightly. you sit there, restless, as his gaze hungrily rakes up your body.

“yeah, i definitely want something else.” john says lowly, his eyes finally meeting yours. looking up at him through your eyelashes, you feel the flush on your face crawl down your neck.

“what would you like, sir?” you ask, voice soft and innocent. you try to play it cool but it feels like you might spontaneously combust on the spot.

he shakes his head slightly, his gaze practically ripping away from your lips.

“a beer. i’ll be over there in a minute.” he remedies, turning his attention back to his shoes. you mumble out a quick ‘see you soon’ before rushing back over to the bar.

you busy yourself with all the tasks you had to do before close, trying to take your mind off john. you try not to think about his pretty blue eyes or his big, strong biceps.

a few minutes later, you’re up at the front helping your boss check out guests. you look up at the bar, noticing john looking up at you already. nervously, you drop what you’re doing and head to help him.

he stands there toying with cleaning rags you had left on the counter, his face giving you a teasing glance. you roll your eyes at him as you come to stand across from him at the register.

“hey, i have something i want to talk to you about.” he says quickly before you can even say anything. your face falls taking on a look of confusion. he’s never talked to you like this before.

“yeah, of course,” you replied, voice filed with nerves, “what is it, john?”

“this is either a really good thing or a really bad thing,” he prefaces, his soft gaze meeting yours with a nervous smile, “you know I’m married, right?”

your eyes go wide as you quickly nod, your mind running a mile a minute. why would he need to tell you this now? your fingers nervously fidget with the ends of your hair as you reply slowly,

“yes, but all this is is just flirting, nothing is going to happen. so don’t worry.” stumbling over your words, you miss the way his hands subconsciously tense at your words.

“fuck, darlin, you don’t know how much i love flirting and talking with you.” his voice low, gaze flitting around your face for any sign that he may have hurt or upset you.

“if i wasn’t married, i would’ve already taken you out somewhere nice. would’ve asked for your number the first day i saw you.” you let out a small gasp at his words, did he want you like you wanted him? did he think about you even though he is twice your age? maybe he thought about you laying next to his wife.

“i think you’re beautiful, princess.”

you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips as you look up at him. the flush on your face growing ever more obvious at his attention.

“i think you’re very handsome, too, john.” you murmur shyly, twirling your hair around your fingers nervously. his gaze on your body was downright hungry, he looked like he’d take you right there if you let him.

“although, john,” your voice becoming teasing, letting your eyes fall obviously onto his left hand, “i don’t see you wearing a ring.”

his empty hand resting on the counter becoming painfully obvious as his gaze drops to it. the supposed permanent band around his finger seemed to be… missing. the look that he gave you was all that you needed to know.

“never have and never will, ma’am.”

[crazylittlejester]

good news: i feel a little bit more like a person today

bad news: in the past 24 hours i have spent 115 fucking dollars and now i need to explode and die

context news: with that 115 i bought a full tank of gas, paid for parking, bought 3 pairs of dress pants, 4 dress shirts, a blazer, a basket, a card game, and an event ticket so it was worth it to me

funny news: i started playing Twilight Princess on the wii u and discovered the stick drift on my game pad is so bad that Twi will just start walkin away and he’s fallen into the water several times and its made combat HILARIOUSLY unplayable

fantastic news: i basically got a wii u pro controller for free because ✨rewards points✨

not as interesting news: i finally stopped being lazy and paired my wii remote to the wii u so i could test Just Dance 2014 for me and my friend to make sure the disc works because i bought it used (it works, hooray)

tragic news: i forgot i am, in fact, disabled, and tested out a song in Just Dance because the 2014 music got to me and i wanted to see if i could unlock the Lady Gaga song and I went too hard and now I’m lying down on the floor

unsurprising news: my wrist is Still fucked up because i won’t give it a break because i keep doing random shit like badminton, gaming, playing “how many things can fit in one singular car” (the answer is an alarming amount), and drawing (i hate everything ive drawn and deleted the doodle page out of rage)

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Tired Love

Sorry for the lack of updates. Been really tired and drowning in school work. Here's yet another addition to my Hunter series.

Summary: Memories and the weather cloud your mind but Bucky's presence always shines so brightly that it drives the darkness away

If someone ever asked who was the small spoon in your relationship with Bucky, the both of you would fight over the answer, insistent that the other one was the small spoon. In truth, it always changed, depending the mood of the day. Today, it was your turn to be the small spoon.

It was a chilly day, having just rained heavily but you sat outside at the balcony, letting the wind howl in your ears. Your knees were tucked to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as your hair stood on end, trying its best to protect you from the cold.

"I thought you hated the cold." A low voice sounds from beside you. Heat emanates from the body that seats itself next to you and you lean against it. An arm snakes itself around your waist, pulling you in.

"It's not cold," you mumble and he chuckles, the sound vibrating within his chest.

"Sure it isn't, love. That's why your hair is standing, right?" Blue eyes twinkle in amusement and the corners of lips tug upwards, causing you to smile in return.

"Yeah, that's right." You snuggle against him, a finger tracing patterns on his thigh. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, gloved metal hand brushing against your exposed flesh hand and your fingers intertwine with his.

"I managed to make Steve fall into the lake today," he hums. "He didn't see it coming."

"Did he drag you down with him?" Your thumb brushes over the back of his hand and starts drawing circles on it.

"He couldn't grab me in time. I learned from the previous incident and moved out of the way the moment he tripped over my foot," Bucky crows victoriously, smirking as he recalls what happened. "You should have heard the words that followed the splash, I never knew he could swear like that!"

"Well, clearly he's been taking some swearing classes from Tony." You can't help but laugh, trying to picture the scene in your head. "So that's why he was so grumpy when he came into the living room! He looked like he just took a shower!"

Bucky laughs, eyes sparkling with mirth. "He did take a shower in the lake!"

Your heart grows warm at the sound of his laughter ringing out in the cold still air and you find yourself grinning like an idiot, gazing at him fondly.

"So, the notorious Hunter can actually stop giving murderous looks. It's not permanently glued to your face, I was beginning to think it was." Bucky flicks you in the forehead, easily dodging your lazy attempt to return the favour. You groan, annoyed, and drop your head into his lap, burying your face into his thigh.

"I hate you," you mumble with zero malice.

"Love you too, babe." He ruffles your hair and you let out another annoyed noise, much to his amusement. Still, you remain on his lap, not wanting to move from your source of comfort. His cologne fills your nose, a pleasant smell that mingles with the fresh scent of the rain, and you find yourself playing with the fabric of his pants.

His fingers comb through your hair, strands twirling around his index finger as he plays with them and you find yourself starting to doze off. Your eyes struggle to remain open, the rhythmic massages on your scalp lulling you to sleep and you let out a yawn.

"Well someone's tired," Bucky hums, giving your cheek a poke.

"Excellent deduction, master detective." You roll your eyes, suppressing the other yawn that's trying to escape.

"Do you want to move to the bed?" He ignores your jab, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

"I'm comfy here." You reach up to trace his jaw. "Too tired to move anyways."

He leans into your touch when you cup his cheek, pressing a kiss to your open palm. "So you're going to subject me this uncomfortable position for the next few hours while you take a nap on my lap like a princess?"

"Sounds good." You smile before yawning again. "I might actually end up doing that."

Bucky sighs but his lips are curved upwards, "as you wish, princess."

"I'm not a princess."

"Sure you aren't."

"I'm—" Yawn. "—I'm a���"

You doze off despite your best efforts and Bucky lets his thumb gently brush over your skin where your shirt has ridden up, exposing your waist.

"You're the light of my life," he murmurs softly. "Even if you can't see that."

He watches as your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, oblivious to the world around you. Today was the day you'd killed your mother, the first person to truly love you, and the memories were clearly eating away at you.

It was easy to tell when something was weighing on your mind, the unnatural silence and distant look in your eyes always gave it away. The others could never really tell though, maybe it was the way you'd always smile and wave it off that fooled them, but you could never fool Bucky. He always knew.

"I wish I knew how to make you feel better. You always suffer alone, and I hate seeing you in pain." Bucky knows you can't hear him but it gives him the courage to say it all out loud. "You always know how to make me feel better, and I want to do the same for you."

You curl tighter into him and Bucky's breath hitches. His throat tightens, heart thundering in his chest as he freezes in place, hoping he hadn't woken you up. You hadn't slept properly in the past week, ripped from peaceful slumbers by nightmare after nightmare as memories crashed into your dreams, turning them red. This was the first time he had seen you sleeping so well, and he didn't want to ruin it.

Your breathing remained the same, chest rising and falling in the same pattern. Bucky lets out a quiet sigh of relief, murmuring a soft apology before resuming his vigil, ensuring no one disturbs you. It doesn't take long for the quietness of the gloomy afternoon and the rhythmic sound of your breathing to lull him to sleep, his eyelids drooping as he struggles to stay awake but he's fighting a losing battle.

You wake a few hours later, feeling far more rested than you've been in the past week and find Bucky lying on the floor, passed out. His brown hair is splayed all over the floor and his legs are still crossed, acting as a pillow for your head. His flesh hand remains resting on your waist, a grounding warmth in your grogginess. His metal arm is stretched out by his side and his lips are slightly parted, the perfect picture of cuteness.

Slipping your phone out of your pocket, you take a quick snapshot of the serene moment before lying back down on his lap, smiling contentedly. This felt nice, the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart.

Maybe you do genuinely love him after all. Or it could just be the tired side of you being unable to process what's going on. It is, however, nicer to think that you are still capable of truly loving someone, and be truly loved back. So even if it's a fever dream, you cling onto this feeling, and reassure yourself that there's still a part of you that's human, that can love and be loved.

Because you're not sure if you can go on living without it.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Timeline isn’t gonna match up or make sense so don’t think about it. This was for an OC I didn't care enough to fully flesh out. Kinda sorta post-canon (all Hashira alive). Little OOC so don't think about that either. Might do a part 2 with background. She/Her pronouns (I'm sorry. I'm lazy)

(Masterpost)

Tomioka Giyuu isn’t what you would call, active. In fact, the thought of him having a life outside the Demon Corps never crossed the Hashira’s minds (mostly because they didn’t think he had one IN the corps either).

He was early. Extremely early, actually. Tomioka was not the latest Hashira by any means but, up so early was, off, to say the least. Shinobu noted this when saying her ‘hellos’ to present Hashira. Tomioka, of course, stood off to the side, not making an effort to interact with anyone aside from a simple “Good Morning.” Even for the ever stoic Tomioka this behavior was weird.

“I guess he remembered us after all.” Shinazugawa hissed coming to the group. It was true that the last three meetings Tomioka had missed (granted they’ve all missed meetings due to work but never three in a row) and the thought of Tomioka slacking off and getting off scotch free added on to Shinazugawa’s ever-growing list of reasons to hate Tomioka.

“It must have been a hard mission.” Kanaroji chimed in.

This didn’t sway Shinobu or Shinazugawa. Shinobu knew it couldn’t have been missions for the last three months, Tomioka hadn’t stopped by the Butterfly Mansion once, not even to get ointment for aches and pains. Strong as they are, the Hashira are not invincible. In fact Tomioka hadn’t been badly injured since last spring. Shinobu knew all this. Even outside of missions Tomioka had just been missing overall. It’s like the silence was even quieter without him there. She peered over to Rengoku and Himajima who looked notably tired well- as tired as they possibly could -as they both lightly chatted with amongst themselves. Tomioka would say something back to them and then go back to staring blankly at the porch.

“He’s finally starting to slack off.” Obanai hissed from up high, the group now noticing he’s been here. “I hope he doesn’t think getting here early will absolve him.”

“Obanai you don’t mean Tomioka got here before you?” Shinobu teased

With a fluster shifting of his eyes, Obanai chose to glare at Giyuu rather than return her gaze. “I saw him coming from inside. Maybe Master snapped on him.”

Though they all doubted Master Ubuyashiki would ever raise his voice, the thought did fill Shinazugawa with momentary joy.

With the final Hashira, Muchiro, walking into the garden it was only a matter of time before the Master appeared. With the opening of the door, everyone’s head snapped up and voices hushed. Shinobu snuck a glance at Tomioka who seemed slightly off. He stood a little too straight and struggled to not ball his fist. Obanai’s theory suddenly seemed more plausible.

—

With the meeting concluded you could practically hear the sigh escape Giyuu’s lips as he walked to the porch. He could feel all the eyes on him as he stepped up there only to be stopped by Hinaki.

“I have to ask that you wait here.” She said calmly.

“But me and Hiro-“

“OI! Have some respect Tomioka!” Shinazugawa yelled. He approached the porch. “Who do you think you are to go around ordering people?!”

He caught Giyuu’s glare from on high. His unchanging eyes shifting back to Hinaki only angered Shinagawa more. “He’s looking down on me,” Shinazugawa thought this an act of war.

Glaring back at him, he said “It’s one thing for you to skip meetings but to disrespect the Master’s family.”

“I’m not disrespecting her, I had a question.” Giyuu replied plainly. He was feeling slightly annoyed and very fearful now. This was not how today was supposed to go. He turned back to Hinaki, “Please, we must be on our way-“

“You bastard.” Shinazugawa was already reaching to pull Giyuu off the porch (not wanting to beat him on the porch, that would be disrespectful). Giyuu was ready to draw his sword when the sound of footsteps alerted them all. Out from the door burst Kiriya and another small child. They maneuvered around Giyuu and Hanaki before Kiriya had tripped taking the small boy with him. Before they could launch themselves off the porch Giyuu caught one under each arm and held onto Hinaki’s collar to keep her from falling over.

He set the children down gently, “Forgive me please, Ubuyashiki-san.”

“No, thank you Tomioka-San.” Hinaki replied, graceful as ever. Lady Ubuyashiki was quick behind them to collect her son. Giyuu apologized once again.

“Hiroshi,” Giyuu turned back to the small boy. He stood slightly behind Kiriya with his head low in shame. Giyuu knelt down, “You should apologize to Lady Ubuyashiki and Hinaki.”

Big blue eyes filled with embarrassment the boy complied. Lady Ubuyashiki smiled kindly, “Please be careful next time you return.”

“He can come back?” Kiriya asked

“As long as Tomioka is okay with it.” She smiled kindly

“Of course.” Giyuu replied as the three kids waved off. “Come on, we’re going home.” The boy followed behind Giyuu quietly. He had a small round face and wild black hair sticking out in all directions. Following along, Hiroshi started to sniffle and finally stopped on the bottom step, tugging on Giyuu’s haori.

“What’s wrong?” Giyuu asked

“I’m sorry Papa.” He cried softly as Giyuu picked him up in his arms trying to soothe the boy.

“It’s okay Hiroshi, I know it was an accident but there’s two of you and only one Hinaki. She could have been hurt. Please be more careful.”

The boy nodded sniffling into his fathers shoulder.

The remaining Hashira stared in astonishment at the action. By the time he got his son to calm down Giyuu had finally noticed that he never left the garden and out the front of the home as intended. Still holding Hiroshi, Giyuu bowed his goodbye and left the garden. Before the rest of Hashira could finish processing what just happened Rengoku and Himajime also left quietly behind him.

—

The next meeting came about a month and a half later. This time Giyuu entered at his normal time with Muichiro coming afterwards. He actively stood apart hoping they all would have forgotten (they didn’t), and suffered silently as the many eyes bore into his head. 

It wasn’t just Giyuu, Shinobu was also shooting her glance to Himejima and Rengoku. Himejima was holding up well (surprisingly) but Rengoku was going to pop. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Tengen spent the last week and a half trying to break whatever secret Tomioka had about the same child out of him. An unstoppable force and an immovable object and all that. 

Giyuu was silently praying for this meeting to end soon and end this mental game all the Hashira were taking part in. He had already prepared an exit tragedy to get out with the least amount of questions. He looked at Rengoku and Himejima. The game plan was set and they just need to be ready to go.

You could feel the tension ease when Master Ubuyashiki called the meeting to a close. They all stood quietly, paitiently waiting for him to go inside before all hell broke loose. And just as the door closed Lady Ubuyashiki called out, “Tomioka-San. A word please.”

Rengoku was screaming on the inside as Giyuu looked over to him briefly. Tengen hardly waited for Giyuu to take a single step, “How come you two got to know but we didn’t?”

“A secret child Tomioka?” Shinobu called out “You must not like us if we didn’t get to know.”

“It’s not that…” Giyuu finally broke his silence. He reached for the door when it suddenly swung open and the little pitter of footsteps was heard. Giyuu jumped back and was quick to catch the small figure barreling towards him, “Hiroshi!? What are you doing here?”

“Mama hurt her feet.” Hiroshi replied like it was obvious. All heads snapped to the door and out stepped a woman on a pink kimono.

“(Y/N)?” He looked surprised.

“Ah, Giyuu!” She peered up walking over to him 

“What happened?” He stepped closer to hold onto her waist.

“Just some sores and aches. Lady Ubuyashiki has been so kind.” She turned to both of them “It’s been in honor in your presence.”

“The pleasure is ours, Lady Tomioka.”

And that’s what broke the string holding all together. The family wordlessly walked off the porch and headed to leave..

Shinobu called out “T-Tomioka?!”

“Yes?” Said (Y/N) and Hiroshi as all three turned to face them.

“Oh! Rengoku-San, Himajime-San! So good to see you both.” (Y/N) smiled

Himejima finally exhaled as both men walked over to greet (Y/N). Both of them gave Giyuu an apologetic look. Hiroshi looked over their shoulders to the remaining Hashira still in a daze. Looking at them side by side there was no denying it. Hiroshi is identical to Giyuu, just smaller and with the cutest round face that Mitsuri just had to gush over.

“You are so cute! Like a mini Tomioka!” She squealed. 

“Your hair looks like mochi!” Hiroshi stayed proudly. “Mama, can we get mochi!” 

(Y/N) smiled, “That sounds like our que. It was an honor to meet you all.”

The family walked out the garden, with Rengoku and Himejima sneaking out with them.

“What the fuck just happened?” Shinazugawa broke the silence.

—

The next meeting was well over two months and the pillars were determined to not let Giyuu go without answers. Especially since he’d recently had to heal up at the Butterfly Mansion while Shinobu was out. Before he could even think of leaving they had him cornered, Obanai watching over Rengoku and Himejima.

“When were you gonna tell us you were married?!” Uzui shouted

“No one asked and I’d rather have a small wedding…” Giyuu answered plainly.

“What about your ring then?”

Giyuu pulled down his collar to show a silver ring on a chain tucked into his undershirt.

“How did you two find out then?” Obanai hissed.

“Tomioka requested I accompany him on a mission so he could be home earlier,” Himejima stated.

“I had an urgent matter with the Master and happened to meet them all as they were leaving.” Rengoku said.

“Wait so Master knows too?” Mitsuri asked

“Yes, they were at the wedding.” Giyuu replied.

“You are unbelievable.” Shinazugawa muttered. “How were you able to get married?”

Giyuu didn’t seem to have an answer. It’s something he thought to himself many times but when (Y/N) smiled at him he always forgot about it. Before he could try to answer, he heard (Y/N) calling out to him. The Hashira were surprised to (Y/N) walk up in a demon slayer uniform and golden checkered haori. She smiled and bowed to the Hashira, “Hello, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, I'm done here.” Giyuu replied.

“Wait, Tomioka!” Shinobu called as they turned to leave.

“Yes?” They both answered to Shinobu’s annoyance. They did it again.

(Y/N) nudged Giyuu forward as she assumed they meant him. Uzui cut in, “We only wanted to officially meet you, Lady Tomioka.”

“Oh!” (Y/N) smiled “I’m honored to meet you all, I am Tomioka (Y/N), (Y/N) is fine.”

“It's so good to meet you! How long have you and Giyuu been together?” Mitsuri asked, the only genuine person in all this.

“I’ve known him since I joined the Corps, we met while I was on my way to a job, it was in separate areas but we met up on the way back.” (Y/N) answered recalling their younger years.

“We’ve been married for five years.” Giyuu answered. The Hashira took note that their son looked about that age. It took all of Uzui’s strength for him to not comment on it.

“How sweet!” Mitsuri cheered “I had no idea you had such a happy family Tomioka!”

“We try not to talk about it,” (Y/N) smiled. A lot more open than Giyuu but (Y/N) also enjoyed their privacy. “Up until now, only Master Ubuyashiki knew. Hiroshi and Kiriya became good friends.”

The Hashira had a million other questions but they tethered on inappropriate or just plain mean. Out of respect for Lady Tomioka, they held themselves together. The strangeness of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them. They were happy though. The couple said their goodbyes and turned to leave. The Hashira saw the tension lift off Giyuu’s shoulders as he smiled with his wife.

“Why must we question Tomioka,” Himejima spoke once they left. “Lord Uzui is married with three wives.”

“Yeah but that was before he joined the corps,” Sanemi said “We didn’t know him then, we know Tomioka- barley. He’s a fucking buzzkill and he has a sweet woman that not only married him but slept with him at least once!?”

With those “graceful” last words they parted for the evening.

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Miraculous: Tales of Scarabella and Kitty Noir

*crawls out quietly from under my rock*

I was drawing superhero characters as a warmup and got a *bit* carried away with these two. I hate that Zoe was given the cat in canon instead of Nino, but I have always had a soft spot for both Zoe in general and for the KittyBella duo, especially in an AU scenario where they're the heroes/lovesquare from the start.

Someday, I'd love to read or maybe even write a full-show kwami swap rewrite with Scarabella and Kitty Noir. I wanna share my headcanons for Zoe, since I latched onto her design and said "this is mine now, the writers can't have her" and replaced her with an OC in a trenchcoat. Maybe another day, I will braindump about Zoe Lee on main, but not today because I need to go to bed soon *sigh.*

Solid color backdrops and further design notes under the cut.

I basically always redesign the ladybug suit when I draw it because, regardless of who's wearing it, it tends to be boring. I pretty much always add a little armor ala Mister Bug and a beetle-wing cape. I also usually make the gloves and boots separate from the suit and make them black.

I actually like Scarabella's hideous headband, it is so in line for Alya, who's fashion sense is "mom of 3" (no shade I love that for her). It just needs to be way shrunk. I also always draw Alya's hair way curlier and with more volume. No particular reason for that, I just like it better.

I like drawing catgirl/catboy/catkid superheroes with leather jackets. Idk why, it just feels right. Something inherently punk to me about dressing like a cat and running around on roofs I guess. With Zoe especially though, I really like to lean into the pop-punk sk8er girl thing she's got going on, and she wears a leather jacket as a civilian, so it was kind of a given.

I gave her steel-toed boots because I thought she wore boots in her canon design and I was too lazy to look it up and double-check, but she actually has sneakers in her canon design and I very much wish I'd gone for that instead. Zoe and her sneakers are so important to me.

Canon Kitty Noir's green lipstick is hideous, but I actually like the dark purple/neon green color combo, so I mostly just tweaked the colors enough to make it work. I definitely think Zoe would have neon green tips as Kitty Noir, again, due to the pop-punk style.

I am also a hopeless and predictable bitch who will give kneepads to every superhero character I can reasonably justify them on. I'VE SEEN WHAT THEY DO TO THEIR KNEES! TRUST ME, YOU WANT THOSE! I managed to resist for Alya, since I was trying not to stray too far from classic superhero looks for her (she idolizes Majestia and superheroes in general, she'd absolutely go for a classic fit). But where I already picture Zoe being a skate-park poser, I could not restrain myself for her.

*makes a mad dash back under my rock*

[bebravedearheart]

😂 tickling for merthur!

I don't know why, I had a feeling I'd get this one😂

***

Merlin threw open the heavy curtains blocking the dawn from Arthur's chambers, eliciting a groan from the prince who for all he said Merlin puzzled him was a mystery himself. How could a man with the honed reflexes of a knight training since childhood, who woke at the slightest twitch or rustle while on patrol or on a hunt, be so difficult to wake in the mornings he spent in his lavish bed in the castle.

Though, on reflection, Merlin didn't think he'd wake up so easily if he too was enveloped in soft linen sheets and a feather mattress.

Arthur had done no more than press his face further into his pillow.

"Come on then," Merlin said brightly, just a fraction louder than he needed to. "Let's have you lazy daisy," He knew Arthur hated that phrase and it might at least get something thrown at his head--which meant Arthur would have to move to do so.

The prince, clearly intending to be particularly difficult today, just groaned again, one hand dragged from the warmth of the deep red coverlet to make a shooing motion at Merlin.

"Breakfast will get cold," Merlin tried, deciding not to mention the fact he had once again been late to pick it up and it was already no more than lukewarm.

"S'always cold," Arthur muttered, muffled in his decadence.

"Do I have to drag you out, my lord?" Merlin asked, both of them well aware he only titled Arthur when he was being particularly sardonic. "I've done it before and I will do it again," he continued, trying his best to channel his mother's particular brand of ferocity.

"Are you threatening me, Merlin?" came the still-muffled, still-pompous tone. Arthur was feeling a little more awake, then.

"If that's what it needs to be to get your lazy arse out of bed, royal or not." Merlin answered loftily, with a long-suffering sigh for good measure. He still couldn't see the prince's face, but Arthur's hand was idly twisting in his coverlet; those broad, calloused fingers wrinkling then smoothing the linen.

"You can't talk to me like that," Arthur raised his head, the effect of his commanding, self-important tone somewhat lessened by the yawn that broke his words and the way his hair stuck up in all directions.

Something warm settled itself beneath Merlin's ribs, as it so often did in unguarded moments like these, the glimpses of the man beneath the crown, the infuriating, stubborn, childish man.

"Well, are you getting out of bed?"

"Nope."

"Then I shall continue."

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Sod off."

"Right." Merlin had a note of finality to his tone. "If you're not getting out of bed, I'm getting in."

"Excuse me?" Arthur demanded, though the words had not even left his mouth before Merlin was sat on his hips, knees either side of him.

"Get up," Merlin singsonged, prodding Arthur's bare chest with one long finger.

"Get off," Arthur grumbled, with far less heat than he knew he should at such familiarity.

"Get up," Merlin sang again, prodding Arthur in the ribs this time. The prince could not suppress the slight twitch and shiver when Merlin's finger brushed the sensitive, ticklish spot on his ribs. Merlin did not fail to notice and he grinned wickedly.

"Right." He said again, drawing all of his fingers, feather-light across Arthur's ribs.

***

"Merlin!" the prince squeaked--with dignity, of course--thinking wildly for a moment about how soft Merlin's palms were where they rested on his sides, how warm.

"Are you getting up, my lord?" Merlin said again, his other hand skating over Arthur's chest as the laughter he could not help broke free.

"Merlin! Give up! Merlin!" He bellowed between giggles, had no idea what anyone passing in the corridor might think. His manservant had never listened to him, however, and it did not look like he was about to start now.

Truly awake now, Arthur drew on those perfectly honed reflexes and grabbed Merlin's wrist, knowing Merlin wasn't expecting it. "Ha!" his voice was triumphant as he sat up, still holding Merlin's wrist. They had wrestled like children before, gone far beyond any boundary of lord and servant many times but this felt different. The air felt charged with something Arthur could not name and tried hard not to think about.

His hand seemed so large, clumsy against Merlin's. His blunt, calloused fingertips looked like they would sully Merlin's perfectly pale skin. Arthur swallowed thickly, knowing he should let go but unable to make himself just yet.

Merlin flexed his fingers and Arthur watched the movement intently, didn't think of rules or propriety as he brought Merlin's hand closer to his face, pressed a kiss to his warm palm. Merlin's breath caught in his throat and Arthur moved to kiss the pads of each of Merlin's finger. He tasted the salt-sweat of Merlin's skin, the barest hint of whichever herbs he had picked for Gaius before coming to wake him and the honey from the rolls he always brought Arthur for breakfast. "Stealing my sweetmeats before you've even served me, Merlin?"

The tips of Merlin's ears flushed a delicate pink and Arthur knew he was right. He let go of Merlin's wrist, reluctantly. "We should--"

Merlin's hand had already found its way back to Arthur's chest, pressed flat against his sternum, pushing Arthur to lie back down. Those elegant fingers ran across his chest, down his ribs again; over all the ticklish spots that made Arthur shiver, brushing a nipple oh-so-lightly--which made Arthur actually gasp.

Merlin's smile turned wicked as he tickled Arthur's ribs again just to watch him twitch.

"I think you can stay in bed just a little longer."

[premamelody]

(unfinished utpyrt social media accs bc im too lazy to read this and finish this)

frisk social would be randomly posting full of internet vocabulary they gained overtime and using it at random. like they'd defo be mamaposting. also they like to draw bc I said so, um again

flowey would acc be chill like at least in present day, definitely would be a rant blog in earlier days but moreso in a 'the game came with your xbox' way about games and shows and stuff than like hateposting

like he'd get in an argument w somebody and will try to explain to the user while clearly putting annoyance into the tone

he'd definitely break out into a GIF pronunciation type argument with someone.

like someone who knows what they're talking about but they put it in an authentic aggrevated tone than a professional one. that's him.

toriel would be like that chill old ad who posts videos of cooking and parenting tips

asgore would have those barely worded posts like "today's flower" or smth with a ton of aesthetic emojis and he wouldn't really be personal or anything online.

sans I feel like would like not have any posts and just reblog stuff he finds that is funny but it's like "I hate you" type of jokes like clever but stupid jokes and stuff idk. I don't think he'll reblog a lot

bog, just randomly follow ppl

papyrus would post achievements, friend hangouts and stuff but he'd also post random things like one day he'll just post like "fish tower" and it's just a stack of comically large sardine toys stacked on top of each other somewhere in the middle of nowhere. like one of those gem posts that feel unreal. I think sans would kinda do that but I acc think he'd be more of just a non poster idk

alphys being a fandom person and a status poster is already canon but I'm just say it again bc it's so cool. she'd have chains of posts and some of them are analysis that she'll have to make a specific tag or smth to organize everything.

[a-killer-obsession]

Hi there 👋! I want to ask how would Kid pirates (the main 4) react to a male s/o who absolutely hates being bottom? Like, he will ONLY top them and won't let them top him

Will they try to persuade him to do so or will they accept being bottom forever for their beloved one?

Probably, some hc about them as bottoms?

Thank you for your kind answers❤️

Oh man, I think they would definitely make it their goal to convince him how good being a bottom is. I think what it would take though was Wire acting as a bottom for the s/o to finally be convinced. As I said in this post, I think Kid is a switch but secretly prefers to bottom, Killer prefers to top but also enjoys bottom, and Heat absolutely prefers to bottom but will top if you ask him to. Wire however is like the toppiest top, but I imagine if the other three absolutely begged, and for the good of convincing s/o (because lets be honest, both being tops is driving Wire insane and he wants that ass) he would make the sacrifice and let someone top him, probably Killer since he taught Kil to top so he knows he'll treat Wire good.

Now, for specifics of the boys as bottoms with male partners:

☠️Kid Pirates☠️

Bottom Headcanons w/ AMAB Partner 🍆

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Kid

Only does it the first time after Killer sneaky convinces him to let him play with his ass. He lays awake all night before finally cracking and asking Kil to fuck his ass. After that its his favourite thing

Not a big fan of giving blowjobs, but he'll over his ass up in a microsecond

Too lazy for lube and proper prep, just fuckin spit in it and fuck him already

Wants his ass fucked till he sees stars and can't walk tomorrow

Prefers it over fucking someone else

Like i mentioned in the kink post as well, he wants the shit beat out of him while its happening. Seriously, draw blood, it makes his cock twitch

Killer

Loves giving blowjobs just as much as he loves eating girls out

Wants that cum on his face but if you get it in his hair you better be prepared for the two hour ordeal of helping him wash, dry and brush it

Doesn't give up his ass easy but whines like a bitch in heat when he finally does

Loves to fuck a girl while someone fucks him

PULL! HIS! HAIR!

Uh totally unrelated 👀 but i literally just drew this earlier today, gotta crop it cos tumblr but you smell what I'm steppin in? The handle is BUILT IN, USE IT!

Heat

He's been walkin around all day with a plug in his ass just WAITING for someone to slam him against a wall and fuck him hard

Wants to choke and gag on it, wants to feel that hot cum sliding down his throat

His absolute fav thing is when the other 3 gangbang him, all taking turns deepthroating him and pounding his ass. Hes in heaven when they leave him seeing stars and covered in their collective cum, he wants to be fucking dripping

Loves eating the other guys's cum out of a pussy or asshole, loves licking people clean of cum

Wire's favourite little plaything, his personal cocksleeve, but the whole crew essentially freeuses him

Big time into being the reciever in watersports. Sometimes if theres a long stint between islands the others will just chain him up in the brig and use him however they please. He fucking loves it.

Wire

Happens when the planets align during a solar eclipse. Fr a rarity, but hes so good at topping and the others all want that monster cock so bad that him being a bottom hardly ever happens

He'll suck cock, but not cos you asked him to, because you begged. Most things a bottom would do he does as a top. Even when he rides cock on the rare occasion, he's doing it entirely under his control

Just generally not that into being a bottom, it doesn't get him off as much, so you have to really really work for it

Easier to convince him to give up his ass if hes fucking someone else at the same time

Backseat driver the whole time, another reason it hardly happens, cos he's annoying and fussy as hell and not in a sexy bratty way

[clinicallyinsanedumpsterrabbit]

Vivisection

The loyelest lamb of a dead "god."

Don't touch the glowy insides, they're like molten lava thanks to the whole burning alive thing, they may taste nice, and they canonically do, like sweet honey roasted aubergine, but burning your entire digestive system beyond repair isn't worth it. No, look at me. Do not. Eat. The forbidden. Candy lava.

I spent way too long on this

Like over a week I think.. Idk, kinda time blind

And the artist eyes are saying it's not perfect, but perfection is a myth and I hate that myth so I'm refusing to think about the quality anymore

The fun thing about this kind of eldridge body horror is there's no blood, so I don't have to draw it

I'm not going to post the speed paint this time because it messed up the post last time so it didn't go out as much, plus I'm too lazy to edit a Time-lapse rn, you may get it on a Reblogs on my alt account later but no promises

And as per tradition it's 3 am and I feel like it shows a lot in my writing today, brain very eepy

Goodnigh

Oh and alt version below for funzies

Yeah it's just with the glitch effects removed