#smells not so good

[drakenathan]

[pitsazawr]

Jack Stauber — The End

"It's only just the end", Tim

[christadeguchi]

you think YOU had a bad day at work?

bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera

[wispscribbles]

Do you think Ghost will just stick his face in Soap's hair to smell it

he likes his soap <3

[galedekarios]

😾

[piosplayhouse]

"Oh dear," the unicorn thought. "I must've really mucked up the story beyond compare! The Red Bull Luo Binghe is protecting the last unicorn scum?! Unconscionable! He should have driven me off the cliff by now!!"

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

he's just a lil' guy who's never done anything wrong in his life Ever

[badbucky]

Jamie ‘Lynx Dealer’ Tartt

[jangmi-latte]

JNDKQDJKWJD PAJAMAS WE'RE GETTING PAJAMAS OHOOOO BOY GETTING MY ASS READY FOR DECEMBER HEUDHWIJD I GOTTA GET ACE I GOTTA GET ACE BUT HAIR DOQND AJMAILT JAMISHAIR DOWM KAMKSL HE LOLSKD SO PREETYD FJSJ JS DJS CUDDLE ME WJDK I WANSNS SMELL THE BEDSHETES

[your-fuccked-up-dad-volume61]

The urge to kidnap her & rape her in the woods. Chained against a tree & split open on my cock. The screams in pain drowning out all the pathetic cries for help. Carving our initials inside of a heart on, “our” tree afterwards so everyone knows what a sweet couple we are. 🔪🌹

[goldenispunk]

I’m convinced being held by him for one (1) minute would heal me

[raycatzdraws]

Red Red Red!

Whatever it is about Zelda 1 and 2 that makes artists go absolutely insane with the colors- I am not exempt.

I haven't drawn Roolie with his hat before and OOHHH MY GOSH YEAAAHHHH WOOO HAT!!!!!

[6okuto]

i was thinking about oikawa and i just KNOW that he LOVES to be babied. that's just him, yk? like that's totally him and i would love to read about 30 year old professional volleyball player oikawa tooru being babied by his wife

(timeskip, fem!reader) he's just like me fr. i actually wrote something different but there wasn't enough babying so here u go 🥹🙆🏻‍♀️

tooru is one of if not the hardest worker you know, never losing sight of his ambitions and passion. determination lines his veins, and late nights of practice and analysis have seeped into the cartilage between his bones, gluing together what makes tooru oikawa, #17, setter for club athletico san juan.

but it's not oikawa, it's tooru, the boy you met in high school who stumbled down the steps after using a cheesy pick-up line on you and whines when you try to leave his arms for the washroom, who's your husband.

"long day?"

tooru groans and buries himself deeper into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped snug around your middle. he didn't really need to answer—the lit street lights and dim sky outside were answer enough.

holding back a laugh, you comb your fingers through his hair, the familiar scent of jasmine and vanilla dancing its way to you. "proud of you, baby."

your husband's voice is quiet, "thank you."

"you want me to run a bath for you?"

"...maybe later?"

"m'kay. you wanna stay here for a while?"

"yeah." his fingers trace hearts across your back, and when he pouts, you feel it against your skin. "i'm so tired."

pouting too in response, you press a kiss to his head and rub his back. "i know, baby, at least you're home now."

"but then i have to leave you tomorrow."

"and then you come back to me again tomorrow."

"but then i leave again—oh my god, what kind of sick world do we live in?" he whines, letting out a noise that could be described as a choked sob.

and this time, you let yourself laugh. "aw, my poor tooru,"—you cradle his head against you —"the horrors of a job have caught you."

"what if we worked somewhere together?" he lifts his head to look at you.

you raise a brow. "i love you, you're the light of my life, but you are not getting me on that court."

he gapes. "betrayal from my own wife?"

"okay, then come to my job."

"...well—"

"betrayal from my own husband?" you gasp and tooru pouts again—though at this point you're not sure if the original pout ever left to begin with.

it's still just as endearing, and your expression softens. "you'll be fine, 'ru. i'll baby you as much as you want every time you come home."

his pout pulls even more at his lips, and you mirror it. bringing your hands up, you hold his face and squish his cheeks with your words— "i, tooru oikawa, love my wife and my job, and i'm a strong, independent guy who can do anything."

"d'you rilly hafta hol' m'face?"

"it's for the effect and affirmations," you tease, before your amusement softens to something else. "how long are you out tomorrow?"

tooru's jaw drops as much as it can with you holding him in place. "why would you—9 hours!"

and before the dread of leaving you can fully take hold, you kiss his forehead. the apple of his left cheek, the right, then his eyes, his nose, both sides of his jaw, his lips—all with a resounding mwah!

tooru's arms cling tighter, and he leans into each kiss, always chasing your affection though he doesn't have to. you smile at the flush dappled across his face. "see? a kiss for each hour."

he opens his mouth to answer, but then the pout comes back. "each half hour at least. each 15 minutes—"

"tooru." you snort. "what is that, like, 36 kisses?"

"okay, a kiss for each minute."

"babe—"

"you know how hard i train, i know you watched my interview."

and you really don't think you'll make it to 100, much less 500 kisses, but you'll try anyway, even if after the first one, tooru says, "one."

you snicker as you place the next four, and he counts them before pointing out, "you know, kissing your husband is way easier than doing rdl's."

"yes, yes, i know, honey." you softly laugh and press another to the spot between his brows. "i'm not complaining."

he counts again—six, seven, eight, nine—and you remember the determination and patience of oikawa was never separate from tooru, especially not when it came to you.

[gomzdrawfr]

comforting touch

[cute-girls-from-vns-anime-manga]

胸を張って進むといい by 有都あらゆる

[crime-ckricket]

DAILY HEAR ME OUT

not my neighbor : Francis mosses (the milkman)