#thank you anon!! <333

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

i saw a post that said "she's a 10 but she needs u to tell her how obsessed u are with her at least once a day (im she)" and i immediately thought of eddie and bimbo!reader or eddie and crybaby!reader (or both eheh)

 i just saw this post!! but so true (i am also she) <3

pairing: eddie munson x crybaby!bimbo!reader

CW: this is disgustingly cheesy, HEAVY PDA, kissing, groping, making out

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

you'd be sitting on his lap during a D&D campaign, your face right in front of his as he rubs your waist softly, kissing you gently and repeatedly on the nose, lips, forehead, corner of your mouth, etc.!!!

"you love me, right?" you whimper as he kisses your pouted lips, your fingers tangled in his wavy hair.

eddie's eyes are hooded with so much love, all he wants to do is kiss you and basically eat you up, you're so adorable.

"baby," eddie speaks gently, his hands moving up to your face to drag his thumb across your swollen bottom lip (swollen because for about two hours straight (really since the campaign started) he's been nipping at your lips, you both literally made out fully in front of the Hellfire Club members about thirty minutes ago; spit swapped between one another, groping, and small whines n whimpers coming from both you and eddie as you exchange your love (you both were heavy on PDA)(you couldn't ever get enough of one another!)), his fingers cupping your face so nicely that you melt into him. "i love you so much, i'm obsessed with you, i only tell you everyday." he hums, kissing away your little tears that drip down your face.

he loved how sensitive you were.

"i know, jus' wanted to hear it again, eds," you sniff, leaning forward and kissing him on the mouth once again. "love you." you kiss him again as he hums, embracing your body.

the club grimaces and grunts in slight disgust, slight jealousy (mainly the older members).

"okay, you nerds need 'ta stop making out, you're making me nauseous," Erica says from behind you, but you both don't hear it, too caught up in passionate kisses and sweet words exchanged on each other's lips to notice. "bleh." she gurns, looking away.

Finally, Dustin speaks up, "Eddieeee, yoo-whoooo!" he whistles, trying to get the metal-head’s attention, but eddie just smiles against your lips, not hearing Dustin one bit as you giggle against eddie's lips, wet noises sounding from both of your mouths as you massage one another's tongue with your own.

"Mmm," eddie moans softly, and everyone in the group groans in disgust.. Pure disgust. Eddie adjusts your seating on him to where you're straddling him, and Lucas covers Erica's eyes.

"Yeahhh, maybe we should uhm, you know, postpone..." says Jeff, and everybody nods in agreement.

"Ew! they're practically humping each other!" Mike winces.

And that's everybody's cue to leave immediately.

[angelmichelangelo]

hi hi hi!!! i love your writing!!! for some prompts 12!mikey and his untalked anger issues or ronin mikey and the babies!! (the peepaw fic killed me/pos)

thank you so much 🤧❤️ !! i am always up for some more peepaw and babies fic since they totally have my heart but for now have some 2012!mikey and raph brotherly bonding !! hope you enjoy :) it’ll also go up on ao3 later :P

His anger had towered over his other personalities, dwarfing them in its long, dark shadow.

Baby blues had disappeared leaving just the whites of his eyes, a predatory instinct reserved usually for the offense, face pinched into an ugly frown, it’s all Raph can picture as he lays there on his cot, staring up at the slope of the ceiling of his quarter of the ship he’s called home for the past few weeks.

He turns over just as his stomach does the same, empty, it gnaws around its own edges, a slick feeling of nausea creeping up inside him liking a slow rising tide, Raph ignores it, turning over a second time.

Today had been weird, even in their terms. And whilst it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d experienced saddling up and psyche hopping with his brothers; he’d already done the whole dream sharing thing back at the farmhouse which felt like a lifetime ago — but this hadn’t been a dream.

This had been the inside of Mikey’s head. Inside his actual memories and mind.

He swallows thickly, the lump that presses hard in the back of his throat fails to budge. He turns back onto his shell again. There’s the same old ceiling. The one that he’s slowly growing used to. The pit in his gut grows longer the harder he stares, white noise floods his ears.

He’d been… so angry. That look, the way it had towered over the rest. Raph knows that feeling all too well. Like familiar unfamiliar ceilings, it causes him to turn over again, squeezing his eyes shut to rid him of the images that swarm his head like a hive of angry bees.

Laying here he realizes does nothing to quell that feeling, so he flings the blanket from off his legs, swinging them off the side of the cot and striding across the room with heavy footsteps.

He makes his way to the bridge, only because it’s one of the rare places on this ship that’s crammed with enough people already. In the daytime — not that space really has a daytime according to Donnie, the hub of their temporary home is full of all the people Raph has left in his life. And as much as he appreciates them, it can feel a little crowded at times.

At nighttime when Fugitoid shuts himself off for recharging, that particular room found itself for good old lonesome company.

The door swooshes open, cool air greets his skin and he takes one step forward before stopping short.

Well. This room usually found itself for good old, lonesome company.

Mikey is there on the step leading to the window that covers most of the front half of the ship. Outside is a swirl of blues and purples, painted across a dark, almost starless sky. He’s motionless, almost as if he hadn’t heard Raphael come in at all, knees drawn up under his chin, his voice is quiet, sleepy around the edges like he was either fighting off sleep or perhaps recently emerged from it, he doesn’t turn to face him when he says,

“You know Donnie told me that some stars you’re able to actually touch.” Raph stays where he is, unmoving. “They’re burning but not hot enough to hurt you. Isn’t that weird?”

He turns then, his trademarked lopsided grin plastered across his face, his bandana hangs loose around his neck which offers the opportunity to show off the dark circles that are heavy around the underneath of his eyes, that perhaps proved that there had been no such sleep in the equation after all.

“Space is weird, Mikey,” he says gruffly, dropping himself into the space beside him. “Donnie could tell me that the moon is made of French cheese and it wouldn’t bother me.”

Mikey has his head hung low now, as if trying to hide himself in shadows that weren’t really there. Maybe it was just a ninja instinct, Raph isn’t sure, but he doesn’t miss the way his brothers face goes tight as he forces a smile across his face.

“French cheese, huh?” He says, voice strained to give the allusion of a laugh. “That’s some fancy moon you’ve got there.”

“Yeah well.” Raph says bluntly. He rubs a three fingered hand around the edge of his jaw just to give his hands something to do. “We deserve at least something nice, don’t we?”

Mikey tries to laugh again, a sound akin to just a huff of breathy air escaping him, his ducks his head down again, pressing his chin against his bare knees.

“Hey,” Raph says after a few long seconds of silence. “You okay? After today?”

Mikey’s head snaps up like rubber, and there’s that grin again, all wide and beaming like he was trying to chase off the shadows all by himself.

“Dude. We’re used to this by now, right? Being inside my literal brain isn’t really groundbreaking for us anymore. I mean… look at where we are.”

He turns to face the glass screen again, eyes flicker back and forth as he takes in almost every inch of the view before him.

Raph sucks in a breath. He shifts a little where he’s sat down.

“Yeah I know,” he says deliberately slow. “But you start brushing off every strange instance then it kinda isn’t good for you. It all blurs together and then when you’re not actually okay…”

He trails off awkwardly, his words thinning out where they hang in the air between them, Mikey looks back around at him, those big blue eyes blink once, and then the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in the faintest of smiles.

“Gosh, Raph. You’re startin’ to sound like Dee,” he teases.

Raph feels his face pull itself into a frown. “Yeah and you’re sounding a lot like Leo when you do all this pretending to be okay shtick.” He presses.

Mikey snorts. It’s dismissive and the way he turns his head back around Raph knows that he’s not going to give in so easily.

“We’re brothers, Raph. Aren’t we supposed to be like, a little alike?”

His voice is small and quiet, and he’s gone back to studying the stars when Raph exhales, all long and slow and complentative.

“I guess,” he replies. “More ways than one, perhaps.”

It takes Mikey a little longer to respond to that one, whether on purpose or not Raph can’t be sure; perhaps he’s been pondering the same thoughts that have kept Raph awake, or maybe they’re finally starting to click together like bits of a missing jigsaw puzzle to finally show the entire picture, his eyes are glassy when they finally reach Raph’s.

“M’still better looking than you,” he mumbles. A shadow of a smile touches at his face but does nothing more than just pass by. ��So there’s one thing we don’t have in common.”

Raph frowns. “Mike. You know what we saw, right?” He’s being entirely serious with him right now. He thinks about landing a hand on his shoulder, just to ground him, like it might make more sense in the context of their conversation because it feels like something Leo or Sensei might do, but Raph can’t stop himself from shoving his hands under his legs, just to stop them from twitching with all the nervous energy that’s built up inside of him like hot electricity.

Confusion flickers across Mikey’s face only momentarily. “Yeah?” He questions. He stretches one leg out in front of him, still resting his head on one knee like a damn puppy. “If anything I’m a little embarrassed still. Invasion much.”

Raph looks away. The swirl of dark space continues to slowly drift past the window, little specks of silver light dotted across the velvety dark, and Raph is reminded of the first time he remembers seeing the night sky, peering up through a storm drain with each of his siblings pressed in close to catch a glimpse, all whilst Splinter had ushered them on, little fingers reaching up and up…

“You know you could have talked to me,” Raph says once he’s eventually found his voice again. “You know I would have understood.”

“Talked to you?” Mikey blinks. “About what?”

And maybe he’s being obtuse on purpose but Raph doesn’t care. He whips his head up and forces himself to look towards his brother.

“All that anger? Mike? That anger that made up like, a fifth of your personality? Jesus, bro, don’t pretend with me Mikey. Please don’t.”

He expects Mikey to shrink in on himself; curl back up into the ball that Raph more or less found him in, bury his face back into his legs and just push him away — because that’s just what Mikey often does when confronted. That’s why Raph is finding all this hard to swallow. Mikey isn’t a confrontational person. That’s Raph’s thing.

But instead he pushes his other leg out, stretching out like he was basking under a summer sun, he looks relaxed as he lets a long, heavy exhale breeze past his lips.

“Remember when we were like, eight, and Sensei got sick?”

And of course Raph remembers. It’d been a harsh winter, like most winters when living in a sewer, and their father had come down with a bad bout of the flu after spending most of those cold, cold days and nights from shielding his sons from such a thing.

Those tedious stretch of days had been spent bringing in bowls of soup that would be half spilled across the floor from the kitchen to Splinter’s room as well an abundance of get well cards that were all color and crayon and although their father had seemed fine to them, he had made it clear as to what to do if he didn’t get better.

Raph swallows thickly, his throat feeling tight suddenly. He misses him. He wishes that he didn’t know what to do without him just so they wouldn’t have to go without him.

He nods despite himself, unsure of what his brother was to say next.

“And remember when Donnie wanted to sneak up to the surface for medicine but him and Leo that killer fight about it?” He’s still looking out towards the vast emptiness that awaits them just the other side of the window. He casually hooks an ankle over the other.

“Yeah,” Raph croaks. “They were just scared though,” he adds. “None of us really knew what to do.”

Mikey hums in agreement to this. He’s silent for a moment, as if perhaps carefully conducting his next sentence, which in itself is a little unsettling. That really isn’t a Mikey thing at all.

“We were eight,” he finally speaks, and this time his voice is more raw, buckling under a weight of heavy emotion, and even in the low light, he can still make out the glimmer of wet behind his eyes. “We were eight years old, Raph, and all we wanted was some medicine for our dad.”

This time Raph does reach a hand out, placing it on Mikey’s shoulder, he’s ready to offer him some kind of support that he’s keeping in his back pocket for moments like this the longer they’re away from home, but Mikey flinches away from his touch, head snapping around to face him, tears spray from his face in little bullets.

His face crumples into something wounded and angry before it irons itself out again, like a rubber band snapping back into its shape, his beak wrinkles as he forced himself to smile, his eyes still wet and wobbly with tears folds itself into little slits,

“And he was so sick and we were eight and I finally understood why it was that dad didn’t want us going streetside with the humans.” He sniffs as fat tears frame either side of his face. He brings a fist to scrub away at them. “Cos even though we needed their help, they wouldn’t wanna give it to us.”

Raph stills for a moment as he watches his brother swipe away at more tears that wet his cheeks. He tries again, reaching a hand out, his palm makes contact with his shoulder and this time he isn’t shoved away.

“And all the times Donnie used to beg dad to take us to school. Or when there wasn’t enough food and I’d cry so much.” He hiccups before suddenly standing, like all the frustration had bottled up inside of him and popped right open like a can of soda that’d been all shook up.

Raph stays sat down, watching as Mikey paces, turning away from him so he can’t quite watch the way he runs his hands over his face, tugging at the loose mask that’s still hanging around his neck, Raph swallows thicky, unsure if it’s his turn to talk.

“I guess I’ve just got a lot to be angry about,” Mikey says in a small, flat, far away sounding voice. “I know we all have. I know I’m not the only one and— god if it makes me that mad I can’t imagine how it makes dad feel—”

He spins around on his heel, like he’s about to show off one big grin like he usually has sported across his face. But instead his face is crumpled like wet paper, sad and hurt and Raph knows how it feels. He knows how badly it can hurt.

He pulls himself up his feet and crosses the gap between him and his little brother. He’s pulling himself in like he’s the center of his own gravity, arms wrapped around his middle, he stifles a yawn that works through his jaw.

And keeping a leash on your anger is a tiring thing.

It wears you down, like grinding stone against stone, he has days where he often wonders if all metaphors about anger result in the same kind of stone. Some days he feels far from the river that his father often reminds him of. He feels like he’s just in a hot, unrelenting desert, and there is no river to wash over him.

And he looks at his brother in these fleeting tantrums he seldom throws, and wonders if Mikey is too lost in the desert. If he’s looking for this so-called river as well.

And he isn’t Splinter with his well of wisdom and he doesn’t have all the answers like Donnie has or Leo sometimes pretends to know for their sake, but he knows he can try. Even if it comes out all wrong, like how own anger often does, he can try.

“It sucks, huh.”

That’s all he says. That’s really all he’s got. And hey, he did try. And when Mikey lifts his head to meet his gaze, there he can see the shadows of a smile slowly showing across his face.

“What? Being angry all the time? Yeah.”

Raph huffs. He shrugs his shoulders, more of that nervous energy being expelled out of his system.

“Maybe you’re better at keeping a hold on it than I am,” Raph admits to him. “But being angry isn’t like, such a terrible thing.”

His father had told him the same thing time and time again, when the fog of rage would ascend from his mind, leaving him in the wake, he’d often feel shameful, wanting to crawl into his shell and hide from the world.

And Sensei had reminded him that anger was just passion with a harder head on it. Anger was because you want even when you can’t have.

Anger wasn’t ugly like the monster Mikey believed to have inside himself. Anger was just the protector of those other slices of his personality because they all wanted the same thing. And it wasn’t fair the universe constantly denied them of it.

“I feel like with our track record it’s pretty justified.” Raph tells him, taking half a step forward towards him. “Especially with our track record.”

Mikey sniffs and god does he suddenly look his age again. Space had drawn away so much of their youthfulness, Raph often sees it crowding around Leo’s face is haunting shadows or the way Donnie’s voice seems to be an octave lower, like stress was physically pushing it further and further in the back of his throat.

But Mikey is still his baby brother. He’s still the youngest, always will be. He’s earned his right to kick up a fuss every now and then.

Raph reckons they all do.

“Hm,” Mikey hums, hoarse and raw sounding. He scrubs at his face a final time before letting his limbs flop by his sides, he does a little slow half circle before he’s dropping back into his previous spot on the step.

Raph doesn’t hesitate this time to join him.

“You gotta lemme know your secret though,” Raph says, bumping a shoulder with his. “How haven’t you like actually died of high blood pressure yet, I dunno.”

Mikey drops his head down, hanging low, there’s a raspy sounding laugh that seems to creep out of him.

“Guess I’m just better at it than you,” he tells him, lifting his head up to meet Raph’s gaze, he’s at least relieved to see an actual smile ghosting across his face this time. “Don’t take it personally though, bro.”

“Well,” Raph says shortly. “If you ever wanna just. Maybe. I dunno. Not explode together then… I’m here, man. I mean it.”

Mikey hums, leaning over to press his weight across Raph’s side, his head heavy across his shoulder, there’s a hand steady on his shell when he lands a few solid pats there.

“I know bro,” he says sleepily. Like all the energy had just zapped right outta him there and then. “I know.”

And they sit there for a while, his brothers weight a welcome one as they watch together, the universe passes them, washing over the ship in hues of blues and purples and little sparkly whites.

Like a river over stone, or like maybe like stars across the dark sky, it’s all the same to Raph.

[fyodcrs]

Who is your blorbo? 👀

Fedya my beloved ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[whaliiwatching]

Hey hello. Consider. Hobie reading over and suggesting edits to drafts of Peter's writing and then going home visually with clippings and quotes from said writing as a part of him. Alternately, Peter takes inspiration from quotes visible on Hobie

heart on your sleeve…..

[duckzz]

i would DIE for cumulus and cirrus with 3 or 5 for the mistletoe thing 🧡🧡🧡🧡 my lesbian heart would be so happy

our sweet girls 🩷

prompts <3

[basketobread]

that weird little wrinklemouth expression you draw (like karlach saying "stinky") is SO funny, i just had to tell you because i love it and it's been making my partner and i lose it every time we see your art

truth be told, i did not expect so many people to find it funny but i'm VERY glad that it could become my trademark DHFIUFDSDS its like my favorite thing to draw in the world

[logan-the-artist]

Request (if you’d like to do it): anything intrulogical, I have intense intrulogical brain rot right now 😭

Logan isn’t a morning person.

[lamina-tsrif]

OOO for the pallette id say law onepiece + #1? pallette is kinda coffee colored and i feel like he desperately needs some, so 💀

DOWNTIME

[betweenblackberrybranches]

What is sun and moons relationship in rlgl?

(love this au by the way so so fun and your art is just so cute i want to eat it ♥♥♥♥)

They are in gay love<3

wait i am getting out the smooches compilation i posted a while ago, smooches under the cut but its not new art

[maarriiii]

When I get morning delulu I always think about the idea of Jason giving you an early morning back massage. His big strong hands rubbing circles into your soft skin and muscle, causing you to moan into the pillow. It's not his fault he ends up getting hard, grinding against your sweet ass as one hand slides down to your clit making you moan louder. Hell, not even three minutes later he's pounding you harder and harder into his sheets.

The thought comforts me every morning fr fr.

I AM SCREAMING I AM FERAL ANON I WILL BE THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR DAYS!!!

mdni!!!

okay so maybe you workout the previous day and you're sore all over and jason decided to give you a back massage just because he's an amazing boyfriend (he totally doesn't have any hidden intentions at all)

his hands are so big and firm and he just pressed onto that sore spot very nicely that a moan just slip past your lips and jason's like very hyper aware of the sound now and immediately he feels himself grow hard. He starts pressing your back a little bit hard pulling out more moans from you and that point he just pressed himself against your ass and now you're moaning not just because of his hands.

the next thing you know your shorts/sweatpants was pulled down and jason starts thrusting his hips, pulling your ass up with one hand on your hips and the other rubbing your clit vigorously and all you could feel now is jason stretching and filling you up so deliciously, hitting that spot inside that just makes you drool and mewl, and his fingers rubbing so harsh, it makes your toes curled and your fingers clutched against the pillow.

and by the time both of you were done, let's just say you were sore for a completely different reason now

[beanghostprincess]

Roger really DOES have mad girldad energy and I am feral.

Welcome to my walls btw, it's hot af in Florida, so lmk if you need a popsicle/hj

Just. Omfg imagine Toki and Buggy bonding SO MUCH and Toki is the one who helps Buggy find Her Style and Her Confidence. Oden also has Big Himbo Dad Emergy too, so I bet he'd just be like ":000 a GIRL! WONDERFUL!!! I shall have TWO daughters!"

Roger ofc takes big offense to that and it becomes a shipwide brawl over who gets to be her dad, and Buggy is just laughing, crying, pickpocketing everyone. Only like. Three fellas even have the driving NEED to call her their daughter, they just love the chaos. Shanks is just left GAPING bc ofc he loves Buggy, he always has, always will, but the way she was smiling, the way she's just beaming at the acceptance, no matter how dramatic it is - by Davy Jones, it steals his breath away.

Whatever you do tho, don't imagine Toki dressing Buggy up in traditional Wano attire. Don't imagine Toki taking on the role of aunt or big sister and sharing this culture with Buggy. Teaching her the ways of warriors from her homeland, the codes and dress and recipes. Don't imagine Toki telling Buggy "family secrets" like recipes, fighting styles, etc. Don't imagine Toki just easily saying that of course Buggy needs to know these things! Blood is but the fluid of life, and love is what makes a family - and Buggy has so much love to give, so much to receive, and Toki calls her a child of Wano in heart and soul, in all the ways that matter should Buggy want that.

And Buggy, who has only ever wanted to BELONG, oh she accepts without hesitation.

Leaving Toki behind was hard, but she gifts Buggy an heirloom of sorts, a hair piece that she keeps either tucked under her beanie or safe in a chest, anchored to the floor of her room ((or hidden carefully with Devil Fruit powers)).

The day Toki manages to make/get a suitably sized kimono for Buggy, maybe for a party on the ship, maybe a birthday celebration ((and here I insert my Wano Culture Headcanons, that there's a birthday where children transition to young adults, and it's similar to a quinceñera but different, partially because it's done at 13, and then a second one at 18, a five year period of growth, life compared to butterflies, and so Toki convinces the crew to do these for the Cabin Kids-))

Buggy comes out, hair done, kimono flawless and bright and bold and so very her, a quiet joy on her face, and the crew is FLABBERGASTED.

Roger is sobbing.

Rayleigh has suddenly aged 20 years because oh shit oh gods she's going to be beautiful as an adult, oh damn it all he's gonna have to beat men off of her-

Shanks is caught between swooning, wanting to tackle her, and remembering just how the heck breathing works.

((Roger, Rayleigh, Crocus and Oden do rock paper scissors to get the first dance with her, and it dissolves into a fist fight somehow. Shanks gets involved and bites them. Toki takes the first dance.))

I have. So many emotions about transfem Buggy, bestie, send help it's all my brain can think about.

It's okay, I miss hot weather because here in Spain I am freezing and I am a spring child. My spiritual flower is a sunflower. I need the SUN. I NEED TO GO INTO THE FLAMES. So I'll stay there happily.

Please, Toki would so adopt Buggy. And Oden would be THRILLED. He'll see them getting along and he'd instantly say they look like mother and daughter. Buggy would be shy about it but Toki would probably laugh and say "Oh! Do we really? What do you think, Bugs?" and it's just,, So sweet,, Oden loves her a lot and he can't wait to see his Hiyori grow up too. Roger would be FURIOUS when he hears that because he "found her first" which, you know, true, but it's a weird way of saying that's his daughter. Anyway- Rayleigh would be so fucking done with everything. They'd fight about it and Buggy would actually have the time of her life because she feels important and flashy for once in a long time, and she'd laugh oh so beautifully at them when talking with Shanks about it in their room. Like she'd just laugh at the situation and Shanks is still not getting used to his very very not platonic feelings for his best friend. But he'd enjoy his time with her. He's just going a bit insane.

I can't stop thinking now about Buggy finally finding a place to belong. She's been lost for so long,, Feeling left out. And now Toki has gifted her with the most precious treasure there is: A home. Belonging. And I am so so emotional right now. Toki would be so proud of her and Buggy would just be so thankful. If Buggy called her 'mom' at some point, she'd feel embarrassed right away, but Toki would probably fight the tears and hug her close. Going crazy, really. All the men in Buggy's life fighting for her first dance,, Rayleigh just knows he'll have to fight all the men that hurt his precious star. And Shanks is starting to think about that too and the thought of Buggy dating somebody else makes him sick, so perhaps he needs to start with a plan to confess finally (he's so asking Toki about it. I'm gonna cry). Roger crying because he wants to enjoy every second he has left with her... It kills me.

I just know that to this day, Buggy still thinks about Toki as her mom. She never mentions it to anybody, but she feels such a strong connection to Wano and she's dying to go there finally someday. She might have not been born there, but her soul belongs there. And it's just so sweet. I am sobbing, thank you. Every time she does her hair, she feels Toki's hands instead of hers and she remembers everything she taught her,,,

Now I have on my mind a very silly Shuggy thought about Shanks trying to flirt with Buggy but failing miserably (because he's a kid and he only knows how to tease her or follow Roger's advice which are, um, not good) and Buggy just being so done and exhausted. She can't stand him! He's so annoying! Sometimes she doesn't know if she wants to punch him or kiss him! And she doesn't even know if Shanks likes her back because he keeps acting stupid. And she goes to Toki for advice and she's like "oh, darling... Men are stupid. Do you know why you felt smarter than them when you were unaware of being a girl? Well, one of the reasons is that Shanks is a kid. He's dumb. But he loves you and cares so much for you... He's just having a hard time trying to make his way to your heart" / "But he-! He's so damn- Ugh. He's such an idiot. He already did, and he just doesn't know because he can't see it and I can't stand him-" / "Well, maybe you should be the one telling him, huh?" / "What?! No! And give him the satisfaction of thinking I fell first?! I'd rather die. No. He has to make the first move". And now Toki is involved (like the rest of the crew because Shuggy is a whole teen drama) in their love story because Buggy keeps complaining about men being stupid and Shanks keeps saying he doesn't get how Buggy can't see he's in love with her.

[taegularities]

Riiiiiiid can i have a teeny tiny request when/if you can answer this. When oc was missing, what was going through jk’s head? Like did he thought she left him, got kidnapped by her parents, got into an accident, etc? Just wondering what’s fuelling his fear. Amazing lovely chapter! Srsly chefs kiss 🙌🏻

genre: est. rel. 🥺 fluff, angst wc: 1.3k 🤭 a/n: this turned into a legit drabble LMAO i'd be over the moon if you guys lmk what you think of this lil mess and whether i did a good job? :] not proofread <3

–

if jungkook had the power to undo this, what would he do differently?

hours ago, when you left the apartment.

perhaps he'd handle you with caution. realise that his fret means nothing, and that nobody else defines your relationship but him and you.

maybe he would let you know that he's stuck to you like superglue, no matter what. that he goes insane when you don't show signs of life. and that you're stitched into all crevices of his heart, permanently.

perhaps reacting in such a way could've changed the chain of events today. whatever happened, maybe you could've reached out, rushed to him. instead, you were hidden in a bathroom minutes ago, door locked and a barrier between the two of you.

even now, your mind roams in far distance. waiting for a line to appear or not; and the approaching result fills him with fear. not because he in particular dreads it – but because you do. sniffling, drying your tears, shaking.

jungkook isn't stupid, so he won't tell you how you affect him. how your pain becomes his burden, too, and how he wants the moment to pass, so your tremble stops.

life didn't pain you enough, it seems. something or someone in the skies above is being unfair.

it hurts. it hurts. it fucking hurts.

and on top of everything, jungkook's own ache, courtesy of his overthinking, still lingers. how he wondered if you'd left him. or hoping you weren't hurt. praying that you were unscathed, not a victim of the world's carelessness.

he can't tell you, though. and he doesn't.

not when the minutes pass and jokes are exchanged. not when you explain why you never came home. and not when only one line appears, pushing you into another sobfest that only his arms heal, slowly and carefully. bit by bit.

you're so warm against him. so innocent and relieved, seeking a cure in him to diminish the former pain. you hold onto him so tight, quivering more than ever, crying tear after tear after tear.

jungkook doesn't think he's ever felt such a firm, solid crack splitting his heart. because you don't deserve this.

you're his gentle, enthusiastic girl, aren't you? thrilled about countryside weddings and glued-on stars. you do not deserve this.

your transparent emotions punch him in the guts even when you've bid eun goodbye. and the very next moment, as he comes to a stand in front of the entrance, stalling the drive back home, he feels something stir in him, too.

the same as before when you opened the bathroom door. the same intense yearning clogging up his throat. because when he looks at you now…

tear-stained cheeks. red eyes. yet, a soft smile assuring him that you're okay again…

he knows now. he knows.

"angel..." he voices, and you lift your falling eyelids, endless tenderness in your gaze.

his heart combusts. nervous fear fills his entire being, so worried you might walk away or cry again or be scared off or… or…

tell her.

she might know anyway.

the voice keeps urging him. wants to bare his thoughts, pull them out of his mind.

tell her.

but he doesn't. instead, he calms the brittle organ beneath his chest, eyes blinking his secrets away before he says, "nothing. let's go home."

and he admits now. barely half an hour later, he admits that his choices aren't always well thought out. because how did he manage to pain you again?

crying in front of him, in the middle of the living room, much like… what? a mere month ago. asking him what's wrong; getting back a confused nothing.

he covers his face when you inquire whether he's sure, rubbing it before he responds, "yeah. tired, is all. worn out from the stress."

"i'm sorry."

god. no.

there's no fault in anyone right now. there's no misery, just… realisations. revelations.

"no," he starts, "it's okay."

you swallow, and then argue, "i don't think it is. tell me what you're thinking about."

but how does he tell you? because his words wouldn't suffice. and he doesn't quite know whether the moment's right. how does he unveil something to you that'll never do justice to what he truly feels?

"nothing, baby," he answers; he's being so stupid, "please go to sleep."

but you don't falter. "is it because of the pregnancy scare? or because i didn't call you. i scared you."

"no. it's nothing like that."

he waits.

fuck… he could throw up. you're here, so close, waiting for a response, and he's panicking, nervous, insecure, and… and…

so in fucking love.

"just go change into something comfortable, angel," jungkook gently orders, fuelling the craze in his jumbled mind, "or do you want to eat first? i can get you some food to the bedroom, too."

you shake your head, digging, "i want– you to tell me what's wrong."

but it's not easy. wording feelings has never been easy.

he groans quietly, keeping his foot from tapping the ground. if he told you now… would you react in kind? would you walk away? if he told you now, would you push him away or pull him closer?

shit, shit, shit.

his head falls between his shoulders, fingers grazing his wrinkled forehead, heaviness behind it, "what do i tell you?"

"just. was it… is it seokjin? i won't talk to him if you don't want me to."

god, if you knew…

that seokjin long took a backseat in his head. he would've barely been able to remember his name right now, because his mind is so painfully filled with the same damn things revolving around you.

with the same word, over and over again, repeating in a circle and as a plea.

"that's not it," he promises.

"it's not…?"

"babe… i don't care about him. i stopped caring ten minutes later."

he explains the agitation this morning; explains the far graver evening, how it overshadowed each word uttered in that stupid argument. how you drove him crazy today.

fearing, craving, pining.

wondering if you'd be coming back, if he'd ever get the chance to tell you that you carry his heart with you wherever you go.

and maybe that's exactly what he should do.

right.

enough of this idiocy.

he stands, stepping closer. his voice is unsteady when he calls your name, shaking fingers carding through his hair. he sighs, and then inhales a breath to give his lungs something. to lift the burn.

jungkook prepares his mind for the best and the worst for only a moment before everything goes blank. and then, finally, he realises that, first and foremost, he doesn't need an immediate reaction.

he just needs you to know.

"what is it then?" you still question, tears falling freely, "fuck, just. just say it, please."

your hand curls into a fist, and he rushes to grab your wrist; tugs you into him, a palm on your back. pushing you closer, trying to press his affection into you, and all misery out of you.

he holds your head, holds you right there, lets you cry into his shirt.

and then, he admits, "i'm not good with words, baby. and i don't know how to ever properly verbalise something like this."

"what? verbalise wh–"

then again, does he not know?

no. he does. he just doesn't think it'll ever suffice. ever.

because what he feels doesn't belong to this mundane world. it isn't ordinary; transcends normalcy. no, to him, it appears like something out of a fairytale.

this is what songs are written about; what love stories and novels and movies speak of. the exact rhymes present in poetry. jungkook doesn't have the vocabulary that poets possess.

can't truly explain what you elicit, and what you mean to him, and how insane you make him, and how he wants to hold you and freeze this moment forever, and…

and how he's never been as certain about anything as about–

"i love you."

no… he doesn't need you to answer immediately.

he just needs you to finally know.

–

:'''))))) i have nothing to say except. thank you for this lil request. i am in tears and will go hide in the bathroom now. <3

[l3viat8an]

Imagine the demon brothers' reaction to an MC who usually dresses very modestly, but decides to wear an revealing outfit for a special event of some sort! (Maybe Diavolo's birthday party?)

Levi would literally lose his mind, the poor boy 💀

Meanwhile Asmo... he's having thoughts. VERY unholy thoughts.

By the way, I love your work so much. Going through your blog is the perfect way to unwind after a long day 💗

Levi can’t form a coherent sentence….just give him time to cool down lol

Asmo is having very fun~ thoughts and trying to get you into suggestive positions to take a few photos (just for himself ofc~)

Satan and Belphie take turns teasing you just a bit~ (they can help it you look to good not to-) just glare at them and they’ll stop. Tho they give you just as many genuine compliments~

Mammon has turned into your personal hype man, telling you how amazing your outfit looks and how perfect it is on ya!!! (he wants to see you in revealing clothes more often lol)

Beel is drooling over you can’t take his eyes off of your for a second. You look even better then the buffet lol

Lucifer makes sure to tell you softly when only you can hear him, exactly how much he loves your outfit and you~

Honestly tho all of them make sure to complement you at ever opportunity, after all to them you’re always perfect~ this is just a treat~!

[goldenpinof]

twitter.com/sharkloveravery/status/

1738696002297593992?s=46&t=nAylwVcOR47L6kHWv8HO6A

can i say something? FUCK DAN'S SUIT.

Phil looks amazing.

[fatuismooches]

ok its hard to explain but i need to spread the cuddlebug dottore agenda to someone who will understand and that is you

he is in absolute bliss when yall cuddle, will he admit it? Absolutely not. He loves it all the same though! Like, what do you mean you can be all warm, comfy, cozy, and also have the love of your life next to you? scientific discovery of the goddamn, Existence

He absolutely ADORES just, snuggling up with his lover, but it's rare you guys get to do so because "oh my experiments" "oh my fatui duties" "oh some other stupid reason i cant be vulnerable with my lover because im emotionally constipated"

it gets to the point where you have to initiate it. He's sitting down doing whatever fatui paperwork? sit on his lap! he's laying down reading whatever fuckass nerd textbook? lay on him!! become his weighted blanket!!! If you do this, he might instinctively snuggle or nuzzle closer to you, after wrapping an arm around you, but that's all you're getting, how could he.

Bonus points if you're strong enough to just start, climbing him in order to cling to him like a koala. Is it a comical sight? yes, will he be grumpy at you later for "embarrassing" and "distracting" him? probably

- 🎈 anon back in dottore hell, i show my love for him by calling him a stupid nerd 🙏

Dottore has thought the touch of another to be repulsive for the longest time, especially with his childhood and all, but you? Oh, you changed his mind so much. During the Akademiya, he uncharacteristically found himself wanting to go to sleep for once... because then he'd receive your cuddles. (Obviously, he fought against the urge. He is not so weak to give into temptation!) (He still gave in sometimes, through your soft caresses and kisses.)

Though there are times when he wants to be left alone, there are also times when he wants your attention on him. And what's the best way to hog your attention? Cuddling - you're forced to snuggle against him and share your warmth with him, your presence and giggles and all. Will he admit he likes these cuddle sessions? No, of course not.

There are actual health benefits to cuddling - the kind of science Dottore partakes in isn't exactly the regular kind but, just leave some research studies and papers on his desk for him to read... he won't admit it until there comes a situation where you're trying to escape from his grip and then he starts listing off all the benefits he's missing out on because you're being uncooperative...

Though he still is a very busy man and even though there are times he desires your attention, he can't really have it because he has other things to attend to and focus on. Though luckily as his lover for four hundred years you've learned to read him and figure out ways to help him without being a bother or distraction. You love gently massaging his shoulders as he works (he may not even feel you doing that) or curling yourself into his lap, stroking his arm soothingly to reduce stress, or the occasional kisses to his body. Sometimes he wraps a single arm around you to keep you steady as he does work with his other hand. You're sad about no attention, yes, but you love him, and you want to help him!

(Reader clinging to his leg and then grasping his upper body and now you're hanging off him with pleading eyes, just begging for a headpat (or two, or more, or all of his attention.)

Is he mad? Yes. Do you care? No. (He's not actually mad of course. Your brain really needs to be studied though...)

[probieravi]

S05E03 » S05E18