#✨Request✨

[dj-bananalove]

Hey mootie ✨🕺🏾💗

How abt some Mugman HC’s?

Ok Mugman I feel like he'd be 95%lee 5%ler most ticklish in the belly button

Cuphead gives him cheer up tickles and if he is trying to do something and is to scared Cuphead will tickle him to help him out (unless it's something Mugman doesn't want or need to do)

The boys also have tickle fights to prove who's the best or just for fun Elder Kettle rarely tickles them anymore but, when he does though

It's.the.worst. they can't take his tickles it's really bad for them and when he's done the boys can't stop laughing for like a full 2 minutes straight

Back to Mugman he can't say the word like at all so if he wants tickles he'll be very annoying untill you just can't take it anymore but, if he wants to tickles someone he'll go up to you poke your side (to test the waters)

He notices you still sitting there not moving or giggling he'll leave you alone and go to someone else but, if you do he'll stop for a minute then start actually tickling you.

My favorite nicknames for u all to use

Dj, Banana, Love or mix and matching those words byeeeeee =)

[itneverendshere]

Could you maybe do a one shot of insecure reader x rafe? Reader doesn't believe Rafe finds her actually sexually attractive and her insecurities/bad self esteem are putting a strain on their relationship. And there is that whole ''her having a problem with him liking her, because she does not like herself so she is uncomfortable and pushes him away'' type of deal. Maybe he shots himself in the foot when she asks if he finds her attractive, and because he knows her self esteem is so low, he is trying to comfort her by answering ''Looks aren't important in life '' and she feels heartbroken. She from then is short in texts, doesn't answer his calls etc.

get to the bottom of you - r.c (+18)

pairing: insecure!reader x lover boy!rafe warnings: angst; mentions of low self-esteem; smut

His room should have been a place of comfort—a place where you felt safe—it wasn’t tonight.

You could hear him moving around in the bathroom, the sound of the faucet running, the clinking of his toothbrush against the sink. You should have been inside with him, brushing your teeth side by side, playfully jostling him with your elbow like you usually did. His laughter had echoed through the door just a few minutes ago as he’d told some joke you didn’t catch.

Normally, you’d laugh too, even if you didn’t understand the punchline, but tonight you barely mustered a smile. You couldn’t help it. You’d been feeling off for days now.

You loved him. That wasn’t in question. But the doubts mocking you—the insecurity, the voice in your head that whispered, why would he want someone like you?—were getting louder. It had been there since the start, this ever-present thought that you were out of place. That a guy like Rafe couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like you.

You loved him with everything you had, but how could you let him love you back when you couldn’t even like yourself?

He had been nothing but patient with you since the beginning, but no matter how many times he reassured you, the voice in your head—the one that whispered that you weren’t good enough, that you weren’t what he wanted—never seemed to quiet down. You couldn’t see yourself the way Rafe did. The compliments he gave you always felt empty, like he was just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. 

Earlier tonight, he'd had been busy texting on his phone, and the longer you sat there, the more the voices in your head snapped at you. He hadn’t looked at you in what felt like hours, hadn’t even noticed the way you’d been shifting awkwardly in your seat.

He was the guy who turned heads when he walked into a room. Confident, self-assured, with a sharp smile and piercing blue eyes that could make anyone feel like the center of the universe.

You weren’t like the girls you’d seen him with before. They were stunning, all sharp cheekbones, and perfect hair, the kind of women that could stop someone in their tracks. You, on the other hand, had always been self-conscious—your appearance, your body, the way you looked in clothes. It wasn’t that you hated yourself exactly; you just… never felt enough. Not enough for someone like him.

That’s what kept you up at night.

The door opened, and Rafe stepped out, smiling at you, toothbrush still in hand. His blue sparkled as he walked over to you, leaning against the wall casually. His hair was damp from washing his face, and he had that easy, relaxed look on his face that usually made your heart flutter. 

“You good?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing, as always.

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile,“Yeah, just tired,” you murmured, pushing your phone aside and getting up from the bed. You crossed the room to the window, feeling the cool breeze against your skin.

You hated this—hated that you couldn’t just let things be, hated that your mind was always spinning in circles, convincing you that something was wrong. But it was hard to shake the feeling that you didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve him.

He, always so perceptive, frowned slightly and walked over to you. He placed his hands on your waist and gently pulled you back against him. His warmth should’ve been reassuring, but instead, it only made you feel more fragile. “You sure?” he pressed, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you lied again, this time a little more firmly, hoping he wouldn’t push.

But of course, he did.

 “You’ve been quiet all night.” His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. Normally, you’d melt into him, but tonight, it felt different. Heavy.

You stared out at the darkened horizon, biting your lip. Maybe this was your moment to ask the question that had been eating at you for the past weeks, but every time you shoved it back down, afraid of the answer.

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to sound ridiculous, didn’t want to admit how insecure you felt. “Rafe..”

“Yeah?” he whispered, his breath tickling your neck.

Your fingers twisted in the fabric of your shirt, his shirt, and you turned around in his arms, meeting his focused gaze. “Do you… do you find me attractive?”

His brows furrowed at your question. It was such a simple question, but to you, it felt like everything. Like the entire foundation of your relationship was resting on his answer. Your heart was pounding now, and you could feel the burn of tears threatening to surface.

“What?” he asked softly, “Why would you even ask that?”

You felt a lump in your throat, and you swallowed hard. “I just… I need to know.”

Rafe’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. He opened his mouth to speak, but then hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. You watched his eyes flicker with uncertainty, and that hesitation made your heart sink.

“Looks aren’t everything, y'know,” he said quietly, his tone careful, as if he was walking on eggshells.

You froze.

His words echoed again in your head, and your worst fear—the one that had been brewing inside you for so long—solidified in front of you.

Looks aren’t everything.

He wasn’t saying yes. He wasn’t reassuring you, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he wanted you, how much you meant to him. Instead, he was saying that it didn’t matter. That it was irrelevant. Your chest tightened, and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the heartbreak that was building in your veins.

You pushed him away gently, stepping back out of his embrace.

“Right,” you whispered, your voice breaking. You couldn’t look at him now, not with your vision swimming and your throat closing up.

“Wait, that’s not—” Rafe began, stepping forward, his hand reaching for you. “That’s not what I meant. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“C-Can you please let me go?”

He didn’t want you, not in the way you needed him to.

He must have seen the change in your expression, because his eyes widened, and he immediately backpedaled. “No, no, you know hat’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, his voice tinged with panic. “I didn’t mean—”

You pulled your hand away from his, shaking your head as the tears welled up in your eyes. “It’s fine,” you whispered, even though it wasn’t. Your voice cracked, and you hated that you couldn’t keep it together.

Rafe reached for you again, but you stood up before he could grab your hand. “Hey, wait,” he said, standing up as well, his voice pleading now. “That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

But you couldn’t listen to him, not when every insecurity you had about yourself had just been confirmed. You didn’t want to hear him explain, didn’t want to hear whatever excuse he was going to give you. You needed space. 

Without another word, you turned and walked to the door, your hands trembling as you reached for the handle.

"Please don’t go," Rafe's voice was quiet, a vulnerability in it that you weren’t used to hearing. He sounded scared, and that hurt even more because you knew this wasn’t his fault. Not really. It was you—your insecurities, your doubts, your inability to believe that someone like him could truly want someone like you.

"I just need a minute.”

The hallway felt cold compared to the warmth of his room. You pressed your back against the wall, sinking to the floor, your knees pulled to your chest. You could still hear him moving around inside, pacing maybe, and it made your stomach twist in knots.

How had things gone so wrong so quickly?

You buried your face in your hands, trying to calm yourself but it was no use. The tears came, hot and fast, burning your cheeks as you sobbed quietly. You hated this. You hated feeling so unsure of yourself, so small, so unworthy. And you hated that Rafe, the one person who made you feel safe, had unknowingly thrown all of that into question.

Looks aren’t everything.

It wasn't about whether you thought he was shallow—Rafe had never been that type of guy—but the way he hesitated, the way he tiptoed around your question.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out, your vision still blurry from the tears. It was a group chat notification from the friends you had been out with earlier that week. A picture had been sent, one of the group photos taken during the event. You scanned through it, your attention landing on a figure that made your heart sink further—her.

Rafe’s ex, standing tall and confident beside him, her radiant smile lighting up the frame. Her beauty was undeniable—perfectly coiffed hair, a jawline that could cut glass, and an air of effortless poise that seemed to draw everyone in. Adriana Lima, but real. 

And next to her? You.

The contrast between you two felt overwhelming. How could you, with your insecurities and imperfections, ever hope to measure up to someone like her? The thought that Rafe had once been with someone like that, someone who seemed flawless in every way... it killed you.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t even hers. It was you.

You needed to leave. You needed space. Without another glance back, you pushed yourself off the floor and slipped out his house, the hallway eerily quiet as you hurried toward the stairs, wiping at your tear-streaked face.

As the door slid shut, you could hear the faint sound of his footsteps, but by then it was too late. You got in your car speeding off before he could open the door.

After that night, things only got worse. You’d pulled back, distancing yourself from him in every way possible. You didn’t answer his texts for hours, and when you did, they were short, clipped replies. You stopped calling him back, ignored the missed calls that filled your phone—everything. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him; you just couldn’t. Not yet.

You hated it. You hated yourself for pushing him away, but more than that, you hated the way you couldn’t stop spiraling.

You avoided places where you might run into him. No coffee shops, no mutual friends’ gatherings. You threw yourself into work, into anything that could distract you from thinking about him, about the look on his face when you’d left him there.

You missed him—missed his laugh, missed the way he’d pull you close just because, missed the way he’d make you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

On the third night, you were lying in bed, staring blankly at your phone screen. Rafe had sent a text earlier, and though you’d ignored it, you couldn’t bring yourself to delete it like the others.

Rafe: i miss you. please talk to me. just want to know you’re okay.

You squeezed your eyes shut, clutching the phone tighter in your hand. You wanted to answer. You wanted to tell him that you missed him too, that you were okay—but the truth was, you weren’t. You hadn’t been okay for a long time, and you didn’t know how to explain that to him. Every little insecurity, every time you’d felt like you weren’t enough.

Your chest tightened again, you wished you could be different, stronger, more secure in yourself. You wished you could believe him, that you could trust his words. Your phone buzzed again, and this time you hesitated before picking it up. It was another text from him.

Rafe: i get that you need space, but please don’t shut me out. i don’t know what else to say except i love you. i just wanna talk.

I love you.

You stared at the words on the screen. He loved you. Maybe that should have been enough. Maybe it was enough, but somehow, you still felt hollow, still felt like you were standing on the outside of your own life. You locked your phone without responding, tossing it onto the bed next to you as you buried your face in your hands.

You were terrified that if you let him in now if you finally told him how you felt, it might break something between you two. But hadn’t something already broken?

The next two weeks seemed never-ending, the hours blurring together as you went through the motions at your internship, half-heartedly responding to emails, nodding through conversations, and generally just existing.

By the time you returned home, you felt like you’d been run over by a truck. As you kicked off your shoes, there was a soft knock on your door.

Your heart sank.

You knew it was him before you even opened it. Rafe stood there, his hands in his pockets. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. 

“Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading, searching your face for any sign that you might push him away again.

You stepped back, letting him in, and closed the door softly behind him. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you gestured for him to sit, though neither of you moved right away. Rafe stayed standing, studying your face, and you could tell that he was trying to figure out how to begin.

“I—" he started, but then stopped, running a hand through his hair, like he’d been rehearsing those words over and over in his head. “I don’t know what to say, honestly. I’ve been trying to figure out what I did wrong, what I said wrong. But I don’t think it’s just about what I said that night, is it?”

He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t frustrated—he was just… sad. Sad that you hadn’t let him in. Sad that you had been carrying all of this on your own.

You felt a lump form in your throat, and your chest tightened again, but this time it was from knowing you’d done this to him. It was from knowing that you’d pushed him away.

You couldn’t run from this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “It’s not you. It’s me. I know that’s such a cliché, but—I don’t know how to fix this.”

Rafe took a cautious step closer, his hands still in his pockets, like he didn’t want to crowd you but couldn’t stay away either.

“I don’t need you to fix anything. Just need you to talk to me, okay? To tell me what’s going on in your pretty head, even if it’s hard.”

“I don’t understand why you’d want to be with someone like me.”

His brows knitted together in concern. “Someone like you?” he repeated, like the concept was absurd. He stepped closer again, reaching for your hand, but this time you didn’t pull away, “You mean the love of my life?”

The love of his life.

It sounded so easy when he said it. So genuine. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d never even considered anyone else. But how could he be so sure when you weren’t?

“What if you get tired of me?” your voice was so meek it nearly killed him, the fear in your voice so so vulnerable. “What if one day, you wake up and realize you could be with someone better? Someone like—”

“Stop,” he interrupted his voice firm. “There is no someone else, baby. There is no one better. M' here because I want to be here. With you. I chose you. I’ll keep choosing you. Even when you’re doubting yourself, even when you think you don’t deserve it. I’ll still be here, because I love you. And I need you to believe that, okay?”

You swallowed hard, your chest still aching from the emotion bubbling up inside you. 

“But what if I can’t stop doubting?” 

Rafe stepped closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze, “Then we’ll work through it together,” he said softly. “M' not going anywhere. Doubt all you want. Question it if you have to. But don’t ever shut me out again, you hear me? I can’t lose you.”

Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed softly across your cheek, his attention unwavering, filled with a tenderness that nearly broke you. There he was, standing in front of you, patient, willing to wait, to love you through every insecurity you tried to hide.

“Okay,” you muttered.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he brushed a tear away with his thumb. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice hopeful, as if he was waiting for a sign that maybe you were ready to let him in again.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice not to break. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be held by him.

“Lemme prove it to you, please.”

His eyes flickered to your lips, and then his hand was on the back of your neck, tugging you to him. Your lips met his in a hungry kiss, moving together and tongues running along one another.

He grips your waist and moved you like you weigh nothing. You could feel his warmth seeping into your skin, and for the first time in days, your insecurities started to lift. His lips never left yours, deepening the kiss as he pressed you against the door, his body flush against yours, grounding you.

His hands touched your body with a gentle urgency, pulling you closer, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, blunt fingernails digging into your skin. 

He broke the kiss for a moment, breathless, his lips shiny with your spit, “You don’t see it, do you?” he murmured softly, his fingers tracing your lips with a reverence that made your heart burst, “You don’t know how badly I want you. How perfect you are to me.”

His hands moved lower, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, his touch firm but gentle as if reassuring you that he meant every word.

“Let me show you,” he repeated, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth before trailing down to your jaw, then lower to your neck, where he placed soft, heated sloppy kisses that made you shiver. “Every inch of you, fuck—I love everything.”

His big hands moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh so hard, you were sure it would bruise. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groaned against your lips, his hands now sliding under your sleeping shorts, feeling every inch of bare skin. “Your skin—so soft. I can’t get enough of you.” 

A fervent moan slipped past your lips when his hard cock pressed against your thighs. You could feel his breath against your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there, making you gasp.

“I need you,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough with want. "I need you to believe me."

And for a moment, you did. You let yourself sink into him, his warmth, his strength, his words—all of it. You let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could love you the way you needed him to.

His fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, pulling it up as his lips trailed lower, over your collarbone, to the top of your chest. His hands squeeze the flesh of your ass, a sharp slap echoing through the room as you whimpered, and he chuckled before taking a nipple into his mouth and working it with his tongue.

His hands were everywhere—gripping, squeezing, exploring—as though he was trying to memorize every inch of you, to show you exactly what he meant.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging softly before your nails pressed into his neck, eliciting a groan against your nipple. He then shifted to the other side, his tongue flickering rapidly against the hardening peak. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his hands moved over you with such care, made your head spin. 

You gasped as his mouth worked its magic, alternating between teasing bites and soft licks that.

"Rafe..." you breathed, your voice shaky as his lips trailed back up, capturing yours again in a heated kiss. You could feel him everywhere, pressing into you. It was overwhelming, the way he moved, the way he held you like you were the only thing that mattered.

His fingers slid under the waistband of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin of your hips before he tugged them down in one swift motion. You kicked them off, your breath quickening as he pressed himself against you, his hard cock straining against the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Do you believe me now?” he groaned against your lips, his voice hoarse from how long he’d been kissing every part of you.

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to hear you say it. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"I believe you.”

His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, every dip, like he was worshipping you. He lifted you easily, carrying you over to the couch and laying you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. You watched as he stood, pulling off his shirt and boxers in one fluid motion before climbing over you, his body hovering just above yours.

His skin was warm, his muscles tense as he held himself back, waiting for your permission. You reached up, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw, his chest, his abs, before pulling him down to you. He settled between your legs, his cock pressing against your heat, and you moaned softly, your body arching into his.

“God, I need you,” he groaned, his hips rolling against yours in a slow, torturous rhythm, his head nudging your clit, "Tell me you need me too."

“I do,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I need you, Rafe.”

That was all he needed to hear.

With one swift motion, he lined himself up and pushed inside you, filling you completely. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he stretched you, the feeling of him inside you so intense it made your head spin. He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged as he gave you a second to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “So perfect for me.”

His breathing was already ragged, soft moans filling your ears as moved with him. 

“Fuckin’—You were made for me, weren’t you?” He murmured against your ear, nipping at your earlobe as he gripped your hips. 

His words made your head spin, and you felt your breath stutter as you clamped down around him. He grinned against your ear, using the grip on your hair to tug your head back and look into your eyes.

You nodded, nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes, f-fuck—”

His smile widened and he thrusted into you faster, the slap of skin on skin growing louder, “Atta girl. That’s my baby.”

"Rafe," you gasped, his name falling from your lips in a breathy moan as he hit a spot deep inside you that sent a wave of pleasure rolling through your body. He growled low in his throat at the sound, his hips rolling faster, driving deeper, his breath hot against your skin.

"Say it again," he urged, his voice a low rasp against your ear as his teeth grazed your neck. "Say my name."

You complied, your fingers digging into his back as you whispered his name again and again, each time more broken, more desperate. He groaned in response, his movements becoming rougher, more frantic as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I love you,” he breathed out, the sincerity of his words almost lost in the haze of pleasure that surrounded you both. But you heard it—you felt it—and it was enough to push you closer to the edge.

His hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, deliberate circles that made you cry out, your back arching off the couch as the pleasure built, spiraling higher and higher until you could barely breathe.

"I-I love you," he said again, the words spilling out between ragged breaths as his thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. "God, I love you so much. You're everything to me."

Your body trembled beneath him, teetering on the edge of release. The way he was holding you, like you were the most precious thing in the world—it was all too much, too perfect. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down so that your lips met again, your need for him matching his in every way.

"Rafe," you gasped against his lips, your body arching into his as the tension coiled tighter inside you, ready to snap.

“I got you,” he murmured, his voice soothing yet rough, his forehead pressing against yours as his fingers worked you closer to the brink. “Come for me, baby. I need t’feel you.”

And you did—your body tensing, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you cried out his name. Rafe groaned as you clenched around him, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release, his grip on your waist almost bruising as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, moaning your name as he came.

He stayed there, hovering above you, his face buried in your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against your damp skin as you both came down from the high.

You didn’t speak right away, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, but when he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes were soft, full of that same tenderness you’d seen earlier. His thumb brushed your cheek as he gazed down at you with a look that made your heart swell.

He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face as he traced your cheek.

“You okay?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you met his gaze. “I think I am.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it. You weren’t perfect, and maybe you never would be. But right now, in this moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt like you were enough.

And that was more than enough for him.

[damianito]

Uncle Osamu is babysitting 🍉 Clicks contribute to donations 🍉 Palestine Children Relief Fund 🍉 CareForGaza campaign 🍉 eSims for Gaza | Commissions open |

[melzula]

Hi, i love your stuff! Your writing is AMAZING!

Could you do a sokkaxreader fic, where reader gets majorly hurt saving sokkas life-and she almost dies and super angst but turns sweet/fluff?

-✨anon

a/n: ugh i love angst!!! tysm for requesting this <3

warnings: mentions of blood, injury,

summary: a fight gone wrong leads to an important revelation for you and Sokka

It all had happened so fast.

One minute your group is enjoying a nice breakfast together and the next you’re fighting off Azula and her minions. They’d ambushed you, catching you in a vulnerable position and striking the moment you least expected them to. You had the advantage of numbers against them, but these girls were immensely skilled, so you didn’t have enough of an edge to completely defend yourselves against their attack.

You were assisting Katara in trying to take down Azula when you happened to catch a glance of Sokka from across the way. His back was turned to you and his focus was set on trying to dodge Ty Lee’s chi blocks, so he wasn’t able to detect the blades that were being aimed in his direction. Your eyes widened with panic as you quickly make your way towards him; you wouldn’t be fast enough to stop Mai from throwing the knives, but you’d at least be fast enough to get in their path and stop them from hitting your friend.

“Sokka, move!” You urged, shoving him out of the way and effectively knocking over Ty Lee in the process as well. You weren’t given the time to process anything else as you immediately felt the blades make contact with your skin, digging themselves deep into your back. You cried out in agony before immediately collapsing to the ground, all while Sokka watched on in horror.

“Y/n!” He screamed before scrambling to your side. The fabric of your top was beginning to turn a deep red, and you could already begin to feel the effects of blood loss take over. Your vision was hazy and your body felt cold, and yet you were still able to make out the features of his face as he stared down at you with tears in his eyes.

“Just hang on, I’m going to get you out of here!” He insisted, some of his tears landing on your face. You couldn’t find the strength to muster up a response, so instead you simply let your eyes close and allowed the cold to consume you whole.

When you regain consciousness again you find yourself in a tent. Everything hurts and your body feels like it’s on fire, and yet you can’t find the strength to move. Blurry faces hover over you and muffled voices fill your ears, but no matter how hard you try you can’t make sense of any of your surroundings.

“-more water. I need more water!”

“Why isn’t it working?!”

A sharp pulse jolts up your spine and this time you do cry out in pain, effectively startling the figures in the tent.

“Y/n!” A voice cries. Sokka’s voice.

He’s beside you in an instant, kneeling before you and taking your hand tightly in his own. You’ve never seen him like this, so distraught and terrified. You wonder what happened when you passed out.

“Try to stay awake, okay? Please stay awake,” he begs you before looking frantically to his sister. “She doesn’t look any better!”

“Sokka, I’m doing everything I can here!” His sister shouts back, equally distressed as she exerts all of her energy into healing you. Progress is there but it’s slow, and she worries that if she isn’t fast enough the damage may be permanent. Why did the blades have to hit your spine so perfectly?

“Sokka…” you murmur quietly, your eyes beginning to feel heavy yet again.

“No, no, no, y/n, look at me! Don’t go back to sleep!”

But his pleas fall on deaf ears, and you’re swept back under.

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you were last conscious, but the lamp beside you must mean that it’s grown dark outside. You feel warm, the sharp pain is gone, and all that is left behind is a sense of exhaustion from your adrenaline inducing day. You try to sit up only to immediately collapse due to the soreness of your back, but at least you’re able to move now.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t move,” Sokka insists, alerting you of his presence beside you. You feel his palm carefully lift the back of your head towards the bowl of water he holds in his other hand, allowing you to take greedy gulps until you’re satisfied. “Katara says you shouldn’t try to get up yet or you’ll strain yourself. Your body is still adjusting.”

“What happened? How long have I been asleep?” You ask groggily.

“About twelve hours,” he replies sullenly, and it isn’t until this moment that you’re able to detect the exhaustion present on his features. “Those blades dug right through your skin and into your spine. Katara spent hours healing you; for a minute we thought you might not make it or that maybe you’d live but be paralyzed for the rest of your life. Why did you do it?”

“What?”

“Why did you do it?” Sokka says more firmly this time. “How could you do something so stupid like that?! You could’ve died!”

“It’s not stupid to risk my life for someone I love,” you correct him with a faint smile. Your admission takes him by surprise, his face immediately growing hot and his mind actually at a loss for words for once.

“You… you love me?” He asks gently, almost as if he doesn’t believe you.

“I thought it was obvious, dummy.”

“Not to me!” He cries defensively. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a small shrug. “I guess there’s never really been a good time; there’s always another fight to win or people to save. It just didn’t feel right.”

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs faintly. “But I’m glad you told me now, and I’m glad you’re alive. Because I can’t stand to lose another person that I love.”

You smile tiredly at his words, a new sense of understanding now being shared between you both. You love each other, and neither of you can stand to lose the other. This is real now, and you’re in it for the long haul.

He presses a kiss to your forehead then and urges you to get some more rest, and so you do. And Sokka stays planted right beside you to keep watch over you in your vulnerable state. In that moment he swears he’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.

And that’s a promise he intends to keep for a lifetime.

[cowardlykrow]

Despite herself, the Emma is wooed

[skialdi]

🪄💖✨

The cutest commission done for @forevertableflip 💖

[madelynraemunson]

Married au with Rockstar!Eddie where he's just a man STARVED when he goes home from tour. LIKEEEE, he's just a needy husband in need of reader's loving and he's been lacking just that for months now ☹️☹️☹️ (please the Eddie brainrot is consuming my every being.)

☆ The Crawl ☆

rockstar!eddie munson x housewife!afab!reader

CW: 18+ obvs, needy, pathetic sub eddie, dom-ish afab reader, dick riding, cum eating, dirty talkin’ nasty goodness, eddie literally crawling towards us 🫠🫠, facial, implied unprotected p in v sex, dribbler!eddie

author's note: this is my first time writing sub!dribbler!eddie hehehe eds is usually a dom!shooter in my universe. i hope you all enjoy!!! 💌

WC: 686 words

“Need you to have your way with me, sweetheart…need you to use me…Can’t take it anymore. Please."

You meet your husband's desperate gaze as he brushes his stiff cock against your thighs, prodding you for the sensual loving you had promised him when he was to come back from tour.

Craving every inch of your touch, the man is at your mercy. And that damn polaroid picture you sent him a few days ago? The damn polaroid of that pretty pussy of yours, your glistening folds spread apart by your perfectly manicured fingers, the white border holding space for the title, “all for you” signed by your rouge red lipstick? Eddie damn near kicked the tour bus driver out his seat to turn the vehicle back around himself.

But, of course, the show had to go on. And as stoked as Eddie was for Corroded Coffin's Rise of Kas Tour, nothing compares to being with you, wrapped up in your intimacy in the comfort of the home you two share.

And now 385 days later, you two are here.

“Need you to ride me dry…” he pleads. “Need both lips on my cock baby, he’s missed you so much…”

“Nuh uh,” you smirk, enjoying yourself just a little. “Not gonna do away with the flatteries just yet.”

“Fucking please, princess,” Eddie begs. “Been blue-balled all tour, you can’t do this to me.”

“Oh but I can.”

Hellbent and greedy, your smitten, pussy starved husband treads hopelessly towards you on all fours as you guide him to the bedroom.

Too many press photos and interviews. Too many groupies lining up outside the tour bus to claim their spots with Gareth, Grant, and Jeff. And far too many titties to sign, but Eddie knows he shouldn’t refuse, cuz since he built his brand off being a sex-crazed rockstar, rejecting the ladies would mark the end of his — very successful — career.

Too much of tour life on repeat. And never enough of you. And when he finally gets you, the whining only seems to intensify.

Your twinkling, cum-coated tits bounce in Eddie's face as you frantically taunt your clit with his wide, veiny cock. The sight of you tossing your head back, a mewling mess as he splits you open is enough to tug orgasms out of Eddie’s blissfully aching body. And as you clench around him, screams getting louder by the pump, his spewing tip begins to twitch with every jab into your guts.

“Oh baby…shit, mmfuck, ‘m so fucking sensitive baby, you have no idea.”

Your excitement pools at the base of his naval. Knowing he's not going to last all that long, Eddie whimpers at the sight, his photographic conscious saving the episodic eye-sore for a midday work flashback.

“I love you so much,” he moans. Your orgasm begins to splash around him with every bounce. "Missed your beautiful face. Missed your tight fucking pussy."

“I love you, sweet boy,” you hum. “Your dick makes me feel so good, Eddie, fuck. You’re not going anywhere.”

Eddie releases one strained groan before he loses control. Now completely shifting the roles, Eddie pins you into place as he probes for his finish, thrusting into you as the sweat rushes down his body, his full sack beating at your skin as you ride out your last together.

“Fuck baby, yes baby, yes baby,” he pants. “Gonna be the death of me baby, oh fuck…”

And before he completely empties himself in you, Eddie retreats and finishes on your face. He beams down at you in awe as he glazes the hollows of your cheeks, glosses your lips, and caters to the tip of your cum-quenched tongue. Eddie then swoops down to collect his own eager laps, before thanking you with a kiss.

And, to your surprise, when all is said and done, and you’re all wiped down with a nice warm washcloth from the dryer, your husband books it to his office as if there were something else waiting for him behind that door.

“Eds,” you wonder. “What are you doing?”

“I need to write a song.”

[yourdoorisunlocked]

ᴏɴʟʏ ʜɪᴍ

𝐀/𝐍: A very late oneshot for a cute request I got, I hope it's worth the wait! I'll try to be more consistent with posting, but life is throwing me actual curveballs rn, so patience is appreciated! And my LORD the wattpad-ass songs I keep picking out for these fics are always sending me- 💀✋

Also, Reader is AFAB in this one (since the wife fantasies this man has about Reader are UNTAMEABLE LMAO)

➺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

“How long I’ve waited, darling. You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me...” 

. . .

There was something about Alastor that deeply intrigued you.  

He always seemed to carry suave, foreboding darkness dancing upon the edges of unpredictability with a smile as sharp as a razor. 

What others found unnerving, you labeled as charming and ‘eccentric,’ when it came to Alastor. You simply didn’t care about the worse aspects of him, or rather, you accepted them with such ease that it surprised even the most estranged of demons. 

And though he was wary of your intentions, at first, Alastor soon recognized your unusual fascination with him and determination to befriend him as quite flattering, from such an alluring young lady like yourself. So, Alastor decided to humor you and make nice with you, since it was... difficult to have a good friend, especially with his status as an Overlord, to say the least.

Apart from Rosie - who, mind you, was occupied with her Emporium most of the time - he didn't have much else in his afterlife that didn't relate to the hotel. And though this silly endeavor was proving to be quite the source of entertainment, the issue still stood.

Those below Alastor that didn’t turn tail and run at the first sound of radio static would only test his patience, whether that be at the end of Vaggie’s angelic spear or the punchline of a raunchy joke from Angel Dust. 

Suffice it to say, Alastor was grateful for your company, though he’d never admit it, and had grown terribly fond of you. 

Almost attached, one could say. Though one would be skewered and sliced open before they could finish that heinous accusation. 

Sure, Alastor had possibly grown a tender spot for you in his wretched, rotted heart, but who wouldn’t take a bit of an obsession liking to the tangles and locks of your hair that he could only dream of twisting around his red-tipped claws? Or the delicate curl of your lips as you lifted your face into a crooked smile that had burned itself into his memory, making his heart pound erratically within his chest? 

And, ah, there you are, now. Working the coffee machine and putting a polite hand to your mouth as you yawned softly, still in your pajamas with your hair amess and your eyes struggling to stay open as they fluttered, before landing on him. 

“Oh, Alastor! Good morning,” a glimpse of your small, tired smile made his heart jump to his throat as he stepped forward with his hands behind his back. 

“Good morning, my dear! And how was your night?” 

You brightened at the question, your smile growing. Yes. Give him more, give him more of your happiness, your smile-  

“Oh, it was a wonderful dream, Al’! I can’t wait to tell you all about it.” 

He leaned against the counter, preening at how his name rolled so perfectly off your tongue. “By all means, do tell, darling~." 

Alastor was none too ashamed, despite his reputation as a gentleman, that his eyes were solely trained upon your lips the entire time you spoke, his smile growing in size with each glimpse of your tongue that he could manage to catch. 

“Hm... That’s very nice, my dear,” he nodded along absentmindedly as you ranted animatedly, enjoying the brightness behind your eyes while you made yourself breakfast. 

How tempting and sweet was the visage of you, as Alastor’s sweet, doting little wife, making yourselves breakfast and waving him off to his radio tower with your delectable, kissable smile and a cup of black coffee. 

“Oh, and there was a- Al'? Alastor, are you even listening?” 

Alastor smoothly brought himself from his trance “I do believe you were going on about seeing a deer, of some kind? With fur-"

"Softer than anything I've ever felt? I'm surprised you were even able to hear me over your own thinking." You glanced over at him with concern. “You’ve been spacing out like that a lot, recently. Are you alright?” 

“Top of my game, my dear! Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d be worried over me~,” Alastor leaned forward against the counter, laying his chin upon his intertwined claws as he tilted his head up at you, grinning wider at your flustered blush.

“Well-! Of course, I’m worried about you. You’re my friend, after all...” you turned away, missing the way Alastor deflated at that cursed title that he’d seemed to acquire, despite being your closest confidant, your partner-in-crime, your partner, period.

But good things came to those who waited, Alastor supposed.

As the both of you continued to converse, you half-cringing, half-laughing at his onslaught of puns and ‘dad jokes,’ as you jokingly called them, a pair of excited hooves bounded down the hallway, and an excited princess of Hell jumped into the kitchen beside her tired girlfriend, who was still rubbing her drooping eyes. 

“Good morning, guys!” Charlie squealed as she ran across the room, collecting the different points for her plan of Project: Redemption that she had left for you to organize overnight.

“Hey, there,” Vaggie yawned softly as she slumped into the room, and You shook your head with a chuckle. Poor girl must’ve stayed up all night, listening to Charlie’s rants about her plans for the Hazbin Hotel, since its major renovations and redesign, courtesy of Lucifer himself. 

“Well, aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? What’s got you so worked up, now?” You poured Vaggie a cup of coffee and she took it with an appreciative smile. 

“Well...” Charlie looked to Vaggie, who nodded encouragingly. “My dad’s going to visit the hotel again!” She bounced on her heels, oblivious to how Alastor stiffened beside you, and you inwardly groaned.

Here we go again, you sighed tiredly as you prepared for the radio host’s snark towards the King of Hell. 

Those two had been at each other’s necks since Lucifer had offered his help in advertising the hotel, and the mere mention of the Fallen Angel’s name would set Alastor off on an hour-long rant. 

“Is that so?” Static thickened his voice with malice as his ears swerved backwards, pointed and alert as you followed them with a stifled giggle. Alastor never seemed to notice the more adorable aspects of his demonic nature, being a deer demon. Then again, he probably chose to ignore them, trying to preserve his image more than anything. 

You took a slow sip of coffee as you glanced at his backside. I wonder if he has a tail, too. 

“C’mon, Al’. It’s her dad, you can at least be a little supportive.” 

His eyes widened towards you as you shrugged. “Not you, too!”  

“Hmph! I thought you’d have the sense to at least take my side on this one. Have I not been nothing but devoted to you?" Alastor batted his eyelashes at you, pretending to pout as you snorted.

“Well, it’s not like he’s going to move in, right? You still technically have the hotel all to yourself,” you rub his shoulder in an attempt to sooth him, unaware of the surprised glance that Vaggie and Charlie shared. 

“...I suppose you’re right. At least he won't be staying here, in that gaudy apartment of his!" He laughed, referring to the apple tower that Lucifer had built when the hotel was under re-construction.

“Um, ha-ha, about that...” the princess twiddled her fingers with a strained grin, and his smile tensed further. 

“No...” your eyes widened in disbelief. There was no way... She wouldn’t! 

But it’d make sense, wouldn’t it? I mean, the hotel wouldn’t be sporting that super-subtle apple-shaped tower for nothing, right? 

“Ɏꝋᵾ ᵯēⱥꞥ ⱦꝋ ⱦēłł ᵯē, ɏꝋᵾ īꞥꝟīⱦēđ ⱦħⱥⱦ ƀⱥꞩⱦⱥɍđ ꝋꝟēɍ ⱦꝋ ꞨȾȺɎ ĦɆꞦɆ!?-” 

“Alright, alright, take five.” You sighed and looked towards Charlie, who shifted nervously in her spot as Alastor stood off to the side with palpable anger.

“I’m sorry if it’s too soon, and I know you’ve never met my dad before, but I promise, he’s just trying to help the hotel. Just... give him a chance? Please?” 

“It’s fine, I’m fine with it, but I know someone who won’t be,” with a glance towards the self-proclaimed ‘Host of the Hotel,’ you took Charlie’s hands in yours. “I’m glad that you’re reconnecting with your dad, okay? Just... warn us, next time. Specifically, warn him,” you side-eyed where the Radio Demon was scrutinizing the both of you, small voodoo sigils floating around his form with an eerie glow. 

A soft smile graced her features. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, I was just so excited! Dad’s really trying, you know? And I promise, he really wants to help the hotel."

You turned towards Alastor. “Now, do you think you can settle down? For Charlie?” You avoided the word ‘behave’ for the sake of not being eviscerated on the spot. 

"Hm... Perhaps, but you must promise to stay by my side the entire time," Alastor gripped your shoulder for emphasis, and you rolled your eyes and reached up his collar.

"Alright then... I guess I can manage that."

His eyes trailed up and down your figure, and all his cultivated anger evaporated as you fixed his bowtie, clearly a bit jittery yourself. 

Lucifer may have had the hotel, hell, he could take Alastor’s place, for all he cared. He didn’t even want the blasted position in the first place, not before Lucifer challenged it. But the King of Hell didn’t - couldn’t - have you, and that alone was enough to pacify Alastor, for now. 

He shook away the confusion that came with the sudden bout of possessiveness from the thought of you so much as sharing an interaction with the Fallen Angel and dismissed you to retreat into the shadows until Lucifer arrived.

It was 1:00 P.M. on the dot, and the doors burst open as shimmering crimson light poured into the room, and the King of Hell, the infamous Fallen Angel himself stood before the newly furnished lobby with his arms widely outstretched for his much taller daughter to embrace her. 

“Charlie!” 

“Hi, Dad!” 

As the two Morningstars greeted each other with a tight hug, you almost gushed at how adorably similar they looked, despite the height difference. 

You also noted how Lucifer immediately narrowed his eyes at Alastor, gloved hands clutching his cane in a strangling grip, as if he were restraining himself from giving the radio host a beatdown with it. 

“Bellhop,” Lucifer spat without missing a beat. 

“Deadbeat,” Alastor shot back with a malicious grin.

You groaned and slapped your forehead. I just talked to him about this!

“And just who might this be?” Lucifer raised a dark eyebrow towards you, and you stepped forward – away from Alastor to his dismay – to properly introduce yourself to Charlie’s father. “A first good impression goes a long way,” as your mother liked to say. 

“Hello,” you smiled and gave Lucifer your name, side-eyeing Alastor as he scoffed heatedly at your misplaced politeness. But, in his defense, it truly was! There was no reason to pay any heed to that short-stacked, duck-loving ȼɍēⱦīꞥ!

“Oh! Yes, this is our newest resident at the hotel! She's been a big help, especially around the kitchen!" Charlie squealed with enthusiasm, practically singing your praises in front of her father and you blushed.

“It's nice to meet you," you held out your hand to shake his, and a soft smirk pulled at Lucifer’s pale features as he bent down at the waist at a perfect angle, laying a chaste, feathery kiss against the back of your hand. “Charmed, I’m sure~.” 

The king’s eyes trailed from up your waist before making heated eye contact with you, rising slowly from his bow.

The screech of a record player from behind made you flinch, but you attempted a clumsy curtsy and ignored Alastor’s rising temper, sigils flying about from the display of unearned affection. “Likewise, Your Majesty.” 

“Oh, no need for such formalities. Just Lucifer is fine, my dear."

“Oh, alright then... Lucifer.” The Fallen Angel’s smirk widened into a toothy smile that contrasted yet was quite comparable to Alastor’s terrifying grimace as he took you by the arm and pulled you along into the freshly revamped hotel lobby. 

"Charlie, you didn’t tell me such a doll was staying here! I would’ve visited sooner, you know,” the king laughed, and you chuckled along awkwardly as you glanced back at your crimson-clad friend, who was seething in his place as he watched you walk beside the king's sauntering pace, pure confidence and smugness radiating from Lucifer as Charlie smiled at you apologetically.

Alastor’s pointed ears were pinned backwards, and the raven tips of his hair sharpened as his lips rose slightly above his gums in an enraged sneer. 

“You know, I remodeled most of this place,” Lucifer grinned up at you while you looked around with appreciative eyes, and Alastor trailed closely behind the both of you, along with Charlie who looked up at him with confusion.  

“Is that so? In that case, I really must thank you for giving the kitchen a well-needed upgrade! It’s so much easier to work my way around it, now.” 

"Oho, of course, my dear! Anything for you~," he grinned devilishly up at you, chuckling at the soft blush that tinged your cheeks as the screech of radio static crackled and electrified the air.

Alastor hated it. Despised it. The way you were smiling at Lucifer like that, like you’d been friends for ages, like he’d been the one to bring you on delightful outings, make you laugh yourself sick over whiskey, pull you into spontaneous dances and be a shoulder to lean on whenever you needed it most.

Not like that you'd ever gone to Alastor in such a sorrowful state, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t the first that you’d go to for that kind of thing.

Why were you gushing over Lucifer? Weren’t you closer to Alastor? Didn't you like him better?

Oh, now this just won't do...

"Darling. A word?"

You nearly flinched at Alastor's seemingly cheery, yet short and clipped tone, clearly peeved at something, though you were completely clueless. Maybe Lucifer really pissed him off that much and he needed a breather?

Shaking off your nerves, you nodded politely and missed the way Alastor preened with approval, shooting Lucifer a smug glare as he placed his hand upon the small of your back and pushed you along towards a private spot in the middle of the hallway.

Alastor's ear turned in the direction of the two Morningstars as Charlie and Lucifer retreated down the hallway to his room. Once he was sure they were gone, he snatched your wrist and pulled you inside of a hotel room just left of you.

The door shut behind you both, and you tried not to tremble under Alastor's smoldering gaze while you stared up at him, confused by his sudden fury.

"So, care to explain why that pint-sized excuse of a king was cozying up to you?" The words shot like gunfire from his lips, his insults carrying the weight of bullets as Alastor towered over you while clutching his staff.

"I was only being polite..." you wrung your hands sheepishly as Alastor scoffed down at you, his smile becoming more of a curled snarl.

"And besides, why would you care so much about what Lucifer thinks of me? I'm still your friend." When your hand takes his in its warm grip, Alastor has to resist the urge to melt.

Because I don't want to be 'just your friend,' was what Alastor wanted to say. Because I want your beauty and laughter all to myself, I want you to be mine, you need to be mine-

"Because I-" Alastor took pause, as if the mere notion of caring about you more than he should stole the very breath from his lungs.

His claws reached up to caress your cheek, and you shuddered from the tickle of contact, keeping your gaze focused on him. "Because you're the only person who makes me question myself. The only person who I... who I want to call my own." The words tumbled from his lips, hesitant yet ringing pure truth and adoration for you, and Alastor looked away from you for a moment, unable to meet your gaze, impatient for your answer.

Slowly, scared that he'd disappear into the shadows and that glimmer of vulnerability would fade should you move too fast, you leaned forward into Alastor's touch, nuzzling against his palm.

"And... And if I happen to feel the same way? What would you do, then?"

Alastor's eyes widened slightly at the confession, and he took a slow few steps forward to push you up against the wall, his gaze darkened and yearning as his warm breath fanned against your lips.

"I'd tell you to be care of what you wish for, darling~."

Sharp, yellow teeth pricked, and soft, gentle lips sucked and kissed around your collarbones and neck, as Alastor shivered and rumbled ever so softly at the taste of you, the feeling of marking you as his own as you whimpered and shivered beneath him with want.

His shadow flew to the door, turning the lock with a definite click and trapping you inside with the man who'd fantasized of ravaging you since months ago, when a pretty little doe wandered into his office.

You moaned against Alastor, limply allowing one of his hands to hold your wrists above your head as his leg came between yours, and he rose to face you, lines of crimson dripping down the side of his lips.

Alastor's lips hungrily captured yours, and he made no hesitation to slip his long, black tongue beyond your lips and into your mouth, greedily swallowing your moans while wetness dripped between your legs, and his own made an obscene stain against Alastor's pants.

You panted as he pulled away, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and kissing just below his jawline as he pressed his throbbing erection against you.

“How long I’ve waited, darling. You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me...” 

Alastor's hands ripped at his coat, hastily unbuttoning it from his vest before he pressed against you once more, eager to have you back in his arms.

His eyes darkened down at you as you started pulling at your blouse, desperate to pull him flush against your bare skin as he leaned over you, his slender arms caging you in beneath him.

"Oh, I'm going to devour you, ma chère... Show you just who you belong to..."

He inched closer as the sound of static grew thick in the air, tickling against your arms and making the hairs on the back of your neck rise as pure, carnal desire engulfed the both of you.

"P-Please..."

The doorknob rattled.

Knock, knock.

"Hey, uh- Is everything okay in there?" Charlie's concerned voice sounded through the door, and the both of you instantly froze, Alastor's hands still hovering over the belt buckle of his pants.

"Fuck," an irritated, animalistic growl rumbled from him, and he stood up to his full height as he glanced apologetically down at you, tilting your chin up to face him.

"I'm afraid we'll have to postpone this, darling."

Alastor planted a long, heated kiss against your lips, his tongue savoring every taste of you that he could manage before he brushed out his hair and pulled his coat from the ground and back onto his shoulders.

"Not to worry..." Alastor buttoned up your blouse, his eyes lingering on your cleavage for a few more moments than normally and turned on his heel and plastered his trademark smile back onto his face.

"We'll continue our little show, later."

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Bet ya'll didn't expect that, huh? Caught in 4k smh

Ok, so there is a LOT going on rn and I'm trying my darndest to keep up with a consistent schedule (I say after going radio silent - pun intended - for a goddamn week) BUT I SWEAR THINGS ARE GOING UNDER WAY, chapter one of 'What A Dish, What A Doll' is getting a rewrite, I'm trying to finish more requests and headcanons, and the VOX FIC NEEDS TO BE UPDATED-

it's just a lot lmao, but y'all's patience is super appreciated!!

. . .

➺ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid, @slytherin4ever, @i-love-jafar, @itzlochnessie, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, @susvale, @valentique, @twismare, @robin-the-enby, @v3n7s, @forbidden-sunlight, @leathesimp, @matemor, @groovybear99, @frompeach, @moonmark98, @nyxnightshade7656, @sushigogo

[satellite-starss]

Can we get some passive nightmare with flowers on his head just being happy ? I need the fluff pleas 😭

two normal brothers and their tree hanging out- so glad nothing bad ever happens too any of them 😎

[mysindividual]

Unknowingly, he admits | Aaron Hotchner

part 1

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem liaison reader

summary: Aaron tries to stop you from making the same mistake, but doesn’t realise it’s for his own selfish reasons

warnings: age gap, boss x subordinate, ex talk, mentions of divorce, Hotch being hot and reader is all (๑♡ .̫ ♡๑) once again

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!

"Straight through the glass door, then right." You stood at the entrance, signalling with your hand, explaining to the man who miraculously managed to get lost to your office.

"Oh, thank you." He turned to look at you once more, a mischievous but beautiful grin plastered across his face. "By the way, I'm Agent Nathaniel Smith."

He reached forward to shake your hand when you replied, "SSA Y/N. Nice to meet you."

Once he took off, you leaned on a door frame of your office, arms crossed over your chest. Then bobbing your head to the side, your gaze followed after the man as you admitted he was even better looking from behind.

Tight handshake, round from behind…

Pouting, you nodded at the thought.

"You meant Soft Spot Aaron’s (SSA) Y/N." A familiar voice came out of nowhere, humming in your ear. You jumped in your place, looked at him over you shoulder and rolled your eyes. Entering the office, Derek came in after you.

"What's up kiddo, you're not in the mood? You didn't like my friend Nathaniel there?" He teased, beaming widely, and pointing his thumb towards the exit where the man had left. You looked at him under your brows as you slumped back in your chair.

"What do you want, Derek?" You answered with a tinge of annoyance in your tone.

"Ah, that hurt." His hand on his heart feigning pain. With one leg propped on the edge, he perched himself on the table, enjoying a sip of coffee from his black FBI cup. You’d enjoy some coffee too. "Tell me, what's bothering you?"

"Ah, Derek..." You breathed out, leaning back in your chair, looking at the ceiling, fingers knitted at your stomach. "I don't think you want to hear that.”

He raised an eyebrow. "That bad? You know that’s my jam, I’m all ears, baby."

Deliberately raising your brow at him, you straightened in your seat and rolled your chair towards the table. “Really?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Sure I do, lil pumpkin.”

When you expressed a sense of superiority through a subtle yet discernible smirk, it wouldn’t be a lie were you to say that panic sprang through Derek’s eyes. So you quickly added, “Game on.”

~

Not long after Derek stormed out of your office, repeating ‘No, no, no!’ more to himself than you — either because he just lost money or because of the thing you’d told him — Hotch appeared at your door. You didn’t notice him, slumped back in your chair, one leg across the other, your hands playing with a pen.

If it weren’t for the two knocks against the door frame you wouldn’t have even noticed him.

You straightened your back, sitting more appropriately.

“Are you ready?” He inquired, his eyebrows inched upward as he looked upon you.

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even through the smile that quirked on your lips at the sight of him, your eyes held the smallest hints of concern.

──────────────────────

"Is everything ok?" His voice, simultaneously stern and gentle, pierced through the hush that crept inside his office’s walls.

"Huh?" You hesitated, completely engrossed in the paperwork you were completing. It wouldn't be incorrect to say that you had no idea how you had managed to do it properly when your thoughts were occupied by something else. You were pleased when Hotch finally did speak and directed your attention towards him. Towards something that potentially could brighten your mood. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he replied, maintaining eye contact with you. “You've been unusually quiet."

You arched an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be an insult?" Leaning back, you took a moment to escape all the work and overwhelming thoughts. "Are you suggesting I talk too much?"

Hotch recognised that small smile of yours, small but enough to encourage anyone — to rouse him.

Hotch knew you.

He responded in his very recognisable calm and professional voice. “That's what you said."

It felt like you two were having this conversation recently, but now the roles had been switched.

"Truth." You leaned in towards the table, reaching for the pen. "No, everything is fine."

But that itch in your head didn't give you peace, and you didn't have the will or enough concentration to continue working any longer with that on your mind, so you blurted out.

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “You remember Brad?”

You said it without even knowing why, perhaps because you needed someone to confide in without fear of judgment. Was Aaron Hotchner really that person? Anyway, there was no going back now.

“Brad?” Hotch furrowed, only a hint of a confusion gracing his features before realisation kicked in. “Brad.” He repeated his name blankly, then leaned back in his chair.

Perhaps not.

Of course Aaron knew your ex-boyfriend Brad. Everyone did. And no one liked him.

Well, they were kind of right.

The reason you'd been a bit absent — and why Derek stormed out of your office earlier — was because of your ex-boyfriend. A couple days ago, following your conversation with Hotch regarding his divorce, you got a message on your cell phone. Unknown number. Before even reading the whole message, you had quite a good laugh once you read Brad’s name signed at the end of it. Apparently, he wanted to see you. Of course, you would not consent in meeting him even in a state of madness.

But, having a mutual friend was never a good idea. Brad showed up at the bar last night while you were out with said friend. You were initially just being sarcastic, the irony was coming through. But as time went by, somehow Brad managed to soften you through conversation and touch.

The thought made your skin crawl.

“Yeah… That.very -same -Brad.” You spoke in a hushed tone, your voice quivering as you glanced sideways. Everywhere except Hotch. Suddenly, saying it out loud to Hotch wasn’t your best plan. You were almost too shy admitting it. Or rather, admitting it to him. Saying it out loud made Aaron's presence in your chaos feel intimate and somewhat intrusive.

And why?

It was not the first time you two talked about personal lives, dammit, it wasn’t even a hundredth time! You had spent countless days and nights working together, on cases and press conferences, bars and restaurants with the rest of the team, and talked everything out of your lives.

Yet somehow this felt different.

Was it because you were talking about potential someone in your life? Or were you ashamed of admitting to Hotch you were even considering going back to that fool? Were you actually confessing to Aaron Hotchner himself — your boss — it had been a while since you had someone, that you had been that lonely and… needy?

Ugh.

Nonetheless, Aaron could sense the irony and uncertainty as you replied. He toyed with the pen, shaking it slightly in between his index and middle finger as his other hand held his hip.

The things he unknowingly did to you…

“And what does that very same Brad want? To reconcile?”

You quickly looked up at him again.

“I…” you opened your mouth, but the words died on your tongue. His brows were drawn together in a sympathetic concern, his eyes glowed with an inexplicable intensity… Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Did he actually care? To think anything else might have been in question would be insane. But Hotch’d always been protective over everyone in his team, and you were one of them. And no one ever liked Brad, so the stare he had been giving you made perfect sense. “Well… yes. Apparently.”

“And you are distracted by that why exactly?” There was no change in his even voice as he observed you, shifting his head from one side to other. The dim lighting coming from his desk lamp cast dancing shadow across his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about reconciling with…” He halted in self-control, exhaling as his eyes slowly closed and opened. Fatigue washed over him, Aaron concluded. Regardless, he wouldn’t want his professional facade off, at least not when such a topic was in talk. “Very same Brad.”

You would have almost laughed at that, but only managed to smile and shake your head. Brad was not it, you knew that. And yet you were still thinking about it, and why, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t have the answer. Maybe you were bored, or perhaps tired of waiting for someone right to come your way.

It’d been a long time since you had a proper date, to be quite frank. One that didn’t end up in you yawning your boredom away, having Penelope fake call you to leave, having to really leave for work, and so on. It had been depressing to say the least.

You didn’t have anyone or anything planned in your love life for months. The only thing going on in that field (if one could even consider it that) was the crush you had had on Hotch that was somehow worse than pms’ mood swings. One day you liked him, the next day you wanted to rip his hair out. You also knew Hotch was within the reach, and considering and hoping something might have happen with the two of you was equal to hoping for snow in the middle of July somewhere in south Italy.

Your crush on him was there just to spice up your boring day.

Or so you thought most of the time.

“I knew you guys wouldn’t approve. You never liked him.” Is all you said, beaming widely at Aaron. He, of course, didn’t miss the hints of sadness either in your voice. It bothered you for whatever reason that much that you hadn’t been acting all giggly like your usual self.

Aaron’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward, his elbows on the edge of his table, his hands drawn together in front of him. “And you… like him?” The tone he spoke in was low and measured, almost intimate.

The tone that felt like a caress.

The gaze that made you feel like you were made of glass and he was too focused to let it drop.

You gulped.

“I- I don’t know.” You whispered through a nervous smile.

You lied. You knew that, Hotch knew that. And the thought of that pinched at your heart.

Some mistakes were just not worth making twice.

“If you are asking about my opinion… which I suppose you might not, but I can’t sit here and watch you make that mistake. But of course, this is about you and what you want.”

To Hotch, this was completely normal. It was almost like a friend helping a friend, or rather a boss advising his subordinate. After all, you were there for him when he needed company — when he parted his path with Haley. So, no, nothing unusual.

Everyone on the team disliked Brad. When she first got on the team, she was in relationship with Brad. They’d been together for three years, Aaron remembered. But not long after joining the team, they split up. Even back then everyone cheered her on and told her it was the right thing to do. Everyone except him, but the reason was that she was a newbie at the time, so of course he didn’t want to pry. Now, it was different… somehow.

“I know you don’t think he changed, you are not naive. But do you think it’s worth it?” His gaze assessed you for a moment before his dark eyebrows lifted, pausing briefly before he continued gingerly. “Does he notice the way you bite inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from saying something you might regret? Or the way you play with your earring when you’re not really paying attention, lost in your own schemes? That stress and all the pictures that come through your desk make you reach for favorite snack in comfort? Or that you smile the most when you have the most in your head?”

Silence.

Brad was suddenly long gone from your brain. The words Hotch spoke made a vertigo in your head, lying to you that there was more to it than it seemed. But at the moment nothing was more important than those little lies he you fed yourself with.

But then your gaze fell upon his hand.

The wedding ring still firmly and warmly hugged his finger making your heart drop.

Hope is the joy of a fool, so they say.

Not that you desired him to divorce Haley. Never. It just reminded you that Haley was and would still be a huge part in his life, and nothing, nothing could ever happen between the two of you. He would always love Haley. So it was indeed a good reminder to keep your head cool, your expectations zero.

His eyes averted for a second or two before he looked up at you again, adding softly — in his voice a mix of gentleness and playfulness. “Or the way your eyes get big and dark when you plead…”

A softness came over your features, a semblance of a smile gently flickered onto your lips. “You know about that?”

Hotch gave you a look that said “Of course I know about that”.

Busted, you nodded. “Of course you do.”

He sighed softly, his face showing exhaustion, a craving for care and an opportunity to relax.

“Now, I know it’s the whole point of our job. To profile people. To notice such things about others, but… Our other half should be just as considerate and aware of us. And I believe you deserve better.”

As he breathed the last words out, he leaned back, his head resting on the back of his chair, the almost see-through fabric of his shirt hugging his broad shoulders. Reaching up his collar, he unbuttoned the shirt — not very chastely as thought it were suffocating him, and loosened his tie.

It was suddenly getting warm with everything he had on his mind — work, fatigue and insomnia, Haley and Jack, divorce, you…

Yeah, you also.

As he closed his eyes, something between a sigh and a moan escaped his throat.

And while all this was happening in front of your eyes, you were practically melting in your seat at the sound he made, at the sight in front of you. You gaped at your boss unashamedly, as if you were hypnotised, your lips slightly parting and only then feeling the dryness of them. You swallowed, wishing you could drink in that sight of him. Oh, you so wanted to… many things. You envisioned getting up from your chair, leaving a trail on his table with your fingers as you made your way towards him before settling down onto his lap and leaving kisses up his jaw.

“Hotch…” you called out absent-mindedly, slowly, as though the words left you without your consent, still very lost in your imagination. “You are right. I deserve something far better than him.”

Not really hearing what you had said, he winced back, eyes and hands searching for a file on his desk. “We should get back to work. I need you to take a look at this report on the press conference you held in Kansas City.”

Trying to shake off that picture in your head, you reached for the document he held for you and put it down on the table. The letters were mix of some unknown words, your eyes only skimming over the files.

If concentrating was hard before, now it was completely impossible.

Sneaking a small look at him, you contemplated about the words he said just minutes ago.

You weren’t stupid — you were aware he’d have to pick up a few ticks and tells of yours and everyone’s on the team, but did he then also know about your silly little crush, and how attracted to him you were? Had he been profiling you all this time like he profiled the unsubs? Did he go in depths into his profiling of you? The thought made your heart squeeze in regret of some not-so-appropriate thoughts and actions you had done.

But then again, deep down you knew he didn’t. It didn’t make sense. Things would have been way different between the two of you had he known.

At last you concluded it was all right.

And that was when you realised he was right.

You had been fidgeting with your earring! Quickly stopping, cursing yourself inside, you took the paper in your hand, giving your best to concentrate and read.

You didn’t even notice you’d had that tick, Brad knew even less.

But Hotch knew. The thought made your heart waltz inside your chest, it was almost too hard not to smile.

But what you also missed was that Hotch had seen your actions causing a quick, but not small smile spread across his lips.

“So I thought we don’t profile each others,” you added, pretending to had been reading the report as silence had spread between you two. “And you say I’m not naive.”

Looking up at him under your brows, you didn’t expect he would have already welcomed you with a biggest grin you’d ever seen on him.

You both chuckled out loud, shaking your heads.

“I didn’t profile you…”

“Aha, aha.” You spoke over him, pretending you didn’t want to listen, like you didn’t believe him. “So you’ve said.”

“When you spend time with someone, you have to notice…”

Long into the night, soft chuckles and small voices could be heard outside of his dimly lit office.

A profiler never misses.

Or that was an excuse he said to himself.

[t4yce]

NYMPHIA WIND •  drag race 16.04 night of 1000 chers

[cheezitofthevalley]

Hi! :)

I love your profile so much! It's so helpful for when I want to spruce up my socials. <3

This is a bit of a tall order, but do you have any grunge (90s grunge, that is) graphics? Thanks!

Thank you! I always appreciate hearing how people use my resources.

Hopefully this is what you're looking for!

might do a part two!

[itneverendshere]

wait , pouge! reader not coming to work after a huge storm and rafes worried he hasn’t seen her or heard from her in a while, so he goes to checks and o maybe she’s been trying to fix something that happened? like a fallen tree in her driveway, or no electrician has come to help her turn the lights on

scared of nothin' & i'm scared to death - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader word count: 2.9k

from this universe: birds of a feather & it could be you and me (this is before they start dating eheh)

Rafe Cameron rarely felt scared. 

He hardly knew what that meant. He knew anger, violence and gut-wrenching pain, but never fear.

Storms were common in the Outer Banks. He never gave them a second thought; his house was more than equipped to handle them.

But last night, as he stared out at the growing storm from his mansion's balcony, something in his chest tightened. He couldn’t stop imagining the image of you—you, living in a run-down house on the edge of The Cut. The wind picked up, howling through the trees as the sky turned darker by the minute. His knuckles went white against the balcony rail.

He was scared.

Somehow, the pretty bartender from the country club had nailed the final nail in the coffin. He was smitten, there was no way back. He'd been a goner since the first day he drove you home.

So, when you didn’t show up for your shift earlier this morning, he panicked. He hadn’t seen you or the beat-up car you’d recently started to drive to work. He hated that stupid car with all his power, but you’d looked at him so happily that he could hardly scold you for driving around a safety hazard on the nights he couldn’t get you home.

He had called you nine times already. Each time, it had gone straight to voicemail. His texts were left on read—or maybe not even read at all. He couldn’t tell. He knew the power was probably out in half of The Cut, and maybe that explained why you hadn't answered, but it didn’t ease the knot of panic growing in his gut.

The storm had been a beast—trees were down, power lines were tangled. There was no sign of you and that fear just wouldn’t leave him alone. 

By lunchtime, he was freaking the fuck out.

He knew you didn’t always have a reliable ride, especially with that piece of shit thing you called car, and he had promised himself that he would always be there to make sure you got home safely after your shifts, as often as he could. But now, with no word from you and no sign of you at work, he was convinced that something had gone wrong.

“Rafe, you alright, man?” Topper’s voice cut through his thoughts as he sipped his beer at the Wreck. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He looked up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, just—uh, just worried about someone.”

Topper raised an eyebrow, “Anyone I know?”

“Mind your fucking business.”

"Alright, chill, man. Just asking."

Where the hell were you? His phone buzzed on the table, and he snatched it up, hoping it was you. It wasn’t. Just another useless notification that only made his frustration grow.

“Dude,” Topper started again, this time more carefully, “is it her? The girl from the club?”

Rafe stiffened. He hadn’t told anyone how deep this thing with you went. He wasn’t going to jinx the best thing that had happened to him in years. But he was on the verge of losing it. 

“Yeah,” he finally muttered, “It’s her.”

Topper nodded slowly, “You want to go look for her?”

Rafe hesitated. He hated the idea of any of his friends having the pleasure of meeting you, you were too good for any of them, himself included. But he was running out of options.

“Yeah,” he said it more firmly this time. “Let’s go.”

He stood up so fast his chair nearly fell over. He had to find you, and he had to find you now. Topper downed the last of his beer and followed him out of the Wreck without another word. 

The drive to your house felt longer than usual, even though he was speeding through the roads, having to swerve around fallen branches and debris scattered across the asphalt. The closer he got to your place the more scared he felt.

When he finally pulled up to your driveway, his heart dropped to his feet.

A massive tree had fallen across the entrance, blocking any vehicle from getting through. Your car was nowhere in sight, and the house looked scarily quiet.

“Shit,” Rafe muttered under his breath, slamming the car door behind him. Topper was right behind him as he made his way toward the house, climbing over the fallen tree with ease.

He knocked on your front door, first gently, then with increasing force. 

“Sweetheart? You in there?” he called, his voice louder than he intended. There was no answer. It wasn’t helping his nerves at all. He wasn’t about to wait around, though. He tried the door handle—it was locked.

“What if she’s not home?” 

“I’m getting in there one way or another,” Rafe snapped, his patience completely gone. He circled around the house, looking for another way in, when he noticed a side window cracked open. He didn’t think twice before pushing it up and hauling himself through it.

“Dude, seriously?” Topper groaned from outside, but he ignored him. He landed in what looked like your living room, immediately taking in the mess of scattered items, likely from the storm. He’d never been inside your house before. 

“Sweetheart?” He called again, moving through the house with long strides. He could feel the panic rising higher in his chest.

And then, he heard it—a faint noise coming from down the hallway. He followed it, his heart pounding in his ears. When he reached your bedroom, he found you sitting on the floor, trying to untangle wires from a flashlight, your phone dead beside you. The relief that took over his entire body was so overwhelming he nearly collapsed. 

“Rafe?” you looked up, confused, not expecting him to be there. Your face was smudged with dirt, and you looked exhausted.

“What the hell are you doing?” He dropped to his knees next to you, ignoring the way his voice sounded a little strained. He crouched closer, beside you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You let out a shaky laugh, “I—I’ve been trying to get the power back on. The storm knocked out everything, and the tree in the driveway…I didn’t know who to call, and then my phone died.”

Me, he wanted to scream. You should’ve called him. He wanted to be angry at you for not picking up, for not letting him know you were okay.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, his voice all rough around the edges. The thought of you here, alone was going to send him into a spiral, "You should've called me," he reached for the dead phone beside you. "You know you don’t have to deal with this shit alone."

"I tried, but then everything went out. I didn’t want to bother anyone. I figured I'd just wait it out."

Rafe shook his head, his hand still lingering on your cheek for a moment before he pulled it back, resisting the urge to drag you into his arms. Bother anyone? He wanted to laugh. Didn’t you fucking know by now? He would drop everything the second you needed him.

“Really, didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, feeling a little silly now that he was here.

“Bother me?” He echoed in disbelief. “I’ve been worried sick.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem,” he cut you off, “You never think about yourself. You’re always so damn worried about everyone else, but what about you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just—don’t do that again,” He nearly pleaded, pulling you into his arms. He held you tightly like he was afraid you’d disappear again if he let go, "You scared the hell out of me," he confessed, "I thought something happened to you."

You weren’t used to someone caring that much, and especially not someone like Rafe Cameron. 

You leaned into him, finally letting go of the tension that had been knotting in your stomach all day. “I won’t,” you promised, closing your eyes.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re staying with me until this place is fixed up. No arguments.”

You blinked up at him, not sure how to respond to that. He was a complicated guy—intense and often described as a little scary by most people—but in that moment, you could see the truth in his eyes. He wasn’t leaving.

You were too tired to argue, and honestly, the idea of not being alone sounded amazing, “Okay.”

Topper peeked his head in the room, awkwardly glancing between you two. 

"Everything cool in here?"

"Yeah, Top," Rafe said without looking back, his focus solely on you. "She's fine. We’re heading out.”

Topper nodded, “You want me to drive? There’s not much room up front with all the stuff you’ve got in there.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly “Nah, you’re sitting in the back. She’s riding up front with me.”

“In the back?”

You looked between the two men, amused by the way Topper seemed slightly offended yet intrigued. 

“It’s okay, I can sit—"

Rafe cut you off, shaking his head firmly. “No fucking way. You’re sitting up front with me. End of discussion.” 

There was a certain protectiveness in the way he spoke, like the idea of anyone else being close to you right now was simply unacceptable. Top, always sensing when to stay out of his way, just shrugged and backed out of the room, leaving the two of you alone again. 

He needed you close. Needed to make sure you were okay, even if you didn’t have a single scratch on your body. You felt a smile tug at your lips at Rafe’s insistence. He was so endearing to you. You knew he’d find you critically insane if you said it out loud. 

“Come on,” he stood up and offered his hand to help you off the floor. His touch was firm but gentle, his fingers lingering against yours for a second longer than necessary.

You glanced around your room, realizing how much of a mess it was—the scattered clothes, the tangled flashlight that was still not working, "I should probably clean up first," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed by how little you had.

He shook his head immediately. “No, not now. You can come back later. M’ not leaving you here alone tonight, again.”

You wanted to protest, but something about the way he said it made you bite back your tongue. You quickly learned there was no point in fighting him when his mind was set like this.

"Okay," you agreed quietly.

His jaw unclenched slightly at your compliance, and he helped you gather a few things—a change of clothes, your phone charger, and anything else you might need for the night. Once you had everything packed, he led you back out through the house. The debris in the hallway didn’t seem as overwhelming with him by your side.

You climbed back out the same window he had crawled through earlier, and Topper was waiting by the car, kicking at a loose rock with his shoe to pass the time. Rafe guided you to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, his hand brushing your lower back as you slid into the seat. As soon as you were seated, he leaned over, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed the seatbelt. 

"Let me," he murmured, his breath brushing against your cheek as he clicked the seatbelt into place. His closeness made you hold your breath, but you managed to keep your composure, offering him a small nod of thanks.

He stayed in that position for a moment, his face inches from yours, searching your face for any sign of distress. You could see the gears turning in his brain. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he gave the seatbelt a final tug to make sure it was secure, then slowly leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re okay.”

He said it quietly, more to himself than to you, before he climbed in behind the wheel, looking over at you, one more time, like he was making sure you were really there, really safe.

You offered him a crooked grin, trying to reassure him that you were okay, “I’m fine.”

Without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips—a fleeting cute peck, just enough to show him your gratitude and affection. His lips were warm, slightly chapped from the day, but they felt perfect against yours. It was quick, but you knew you’d think about this moment for the rest of your life.

Rafe blinked, momentarily thrown off, but then his lips gave in to a small, genuine smile—a rare sight for him. He liked it. He liked it more than he should. He liked everything about you since day one. It felt like you were put on this earth to be with him.

Topper, ever the babbler, leaned forward from the back seat, knocking on the headrest. “Hey, lovebirds, you planning on leaving, or should I get comfortable back here?”

“Shut the fuck up Topper,” Rafe muttered, cheeks red, his eyes not leaving yours. 

You giggled softly, the sound melting the last of the tension remaining in his body. His heart was still racing, but now for a different reason. He revved the engine, giving Topper a sideways glare before pulling out of your driveway. 

“Yeah, shut up Topper,” You snorted, finding their friendship hilarious. 

Rafe couldn’t help but grin. The way you so easily fit into his world, bantering with his friends like you’d been doing it for years, only made him fall harder.

“Oh great,” Topper sighed, throwing his head back against his seat, “There’s two of you now.”

Rafe smirked, casting a glance in the rearview mirror at his friend, “Get used to it.”

The car sped through the dark, storm-damaged streets, he kept his eyes on the road, but his hand found its way to rest on the console between you, his fingers brushing against yours now and then, whether intentional or not.

You couldn't help but sneak a glance at him, your heart doing a little flip each time. You’d known Rafe for a while now. You knew he had your heart the first day you met him, but tonight? The way he rushed to you, the way he wouldn’t take no for an answer, it was like seeing a different side of him. A side you were starting to fall for, hard.

“Where are we going?” you asked breaking the silence, though you weren’t really concerned about the destination. Being with him was enough.

“My place.”

There was always a certainty in his tone, that easy confidence that made you feel secure, like as long as you were with him, everything would be okay.

From the back seat, Topper sighed dramatically, “Man, this is some romantic shit, but I’m starving. Can we hit a drive-thru or something?”

You and Rafe exchanged a glance, both of you stifling a laugh.

“You always thinking about food, Top?” Rafe grumbled, though there was a lightness in his voice now.

“I didn’t get to finish my damn burger because someone decided to bolt out of The Wreck in a panic,” Topper shot back, leaning forward to poke his head between the front seats.

Rafe rolled his eyes, but you could tell he appreciated the distraction. “Fine. We’ll stop somewhere, you’re buying.”

Topper groaned. “As if you don’t have enough money to feed half the island, but sure, man, I’ll buy your girl a meal.”

You felt a heat rise in your cheeks at the mention of being Rafe’s girl. 

He didn’t deny it.

[ghostyclay]

Gem (or anyone else) putting up their graffiti on the cyberpunk wall. -Chandelier

[Day 20]: Geminitay (click for better quality)

Decided to combine an art rq & the promot for today, hope you like it! More art rqs coming soon, i alr finished the lineart for 2 others and I'm gona be posting the colored versions soon!

(non animated version below)

Stupid procreate keeps messing up the colors when i export animations >:( i managed to fix most of it, but it still looks a bit off-

[soleilnomoon]

Hi Kaia could i order white chocolate,fruit tart,glazed Donut,nougat,Donut hole,with caramel and whipped cream for one piece men: (Luffy ,Rayliegh ,Ace, Zoro, Sanji ,Shanks,and Law) plz and thank you

hihi ty for being patient angel 🥰️ i def took some liberty w. this one, but i think i like how all of them turned out; you gave me a tall order but *clenches fist* i survived 💛💛💛 anyway, ty for requesting hope you like it :)

3.2k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; smut, some angst, fluff (wow i know), hurt/comfort; feat. luffy being a total menace, rayleigh being the dilf we all want, ace being mischievous as ever, zoro being a dumbass, sanji being overwhelmed, shanks being the absolute worst, and law trying to teach reader a lesson. also feat. cute stuff like: ass grabbing, rough (consensual sex), exhibitionism & public sex, lil bondage, jealousy, orgasm denial, some sof smut™ (who am i), oral (f receiving), fingering, oral (m receiving), idk other stuff probably. y/n has no self preservation ofc, these men are ridiculous (i love them). (if u see grammar/spelling mistakes no u didn't <3)

it isn’t your intention, but somehow you and your captain get separated from the group one afternoon while canvasing a new island. you normally don’t get lost, but luffy was teasing you all morning — pulling you aside for impromptu kisses, grabbing onto your hips from behind, his lips curled into a devilish smile against your neck with each kiss he left behind. luck was usually on your side during those instances, except it seems it’s suddenly run out.

“don’t give me that look,” you say as sternly as you can, eyes glancing around to see if any of your crew mates doubled back to look for you. luffy’s really to blame for you both getting lost, but he doesn’t want to admit that just yet; it’s more entertaining to tease you, because you’re cute when you’re annoyed. luffy wraps a hand around your wrist and pulls you further away from the path you came from.

in between kisses, you remind him that you’re both pressed for time.

“don’t worry,” he says in a low voice, “it’ll be fine, probably.” you’d slap him if he wasn’t already kissing you again, tongue licking inside your mouth hotly; you arch against him, face flushed from the heat. his kisses remind you of summers and warm breezes; your mouth still tastes like the mangos you consumed with him earlier — sticky and sweet, a taste he’ll always covet.

you squeeze your thighs together when his hand roams lower and take a shuddering breath once he backs you against a thick tree. you hike a leg around his hip, holding him close to you, humming pleasantly when you feel the growing bulge in his shorts. being this close to him makes you impulsive and you know that all you have to do is rub against him once and he’ll fuck you against that tree. but your conscience wins out and you pull away, ducking out of his hold quickly, panting lightly as you touch your lips with the tips of your fingers.

“we need to get back to the others,” your voice is a bit too high when you say that. luffy laughs at your act and plants a wet kiss on your cheek; you bicker with him playfully on the walk back while holding his hand and lacing your fingers together with his.

“i don’t normally do this. i have to go.”

that’s what you said twenty minutes ago, after you’d gotten tipsy enough to have the courage to flirt with the older man sitting next to you. the pub was crowded and you only ever came by if you didn’t want to be recognized. rayleigh had a dangerously devilish charm, one that extracted information out of you with ease.

his voice is thick and rich, his words a pretty distraction — hypnotizing you as you find yourself nodding along to his impetuous plans. he hadn’t intended on sleeping with anyone tonight, but he couldn’t resist himself once he saw you sitting there by yourself, swaying on the bar stool while humming a nameless tune.

you seemed so content to be alone, it was admirable.

he had a bright smile and a laugh that came deep from the soul; you felt your body flush at the thought of kissing him suddenly. you blamed the alcohol for making you foolish, but you knew that wasn’t exactly true.

now you’re seated atop a sink in the upstairs bathroom, whimpering softly as you keep your legs spread for him. your skirt is hiked up, panties discarded somewhere — they were ruined once rayleigh whispered in your ear and suggested you carry on the conversation elsewhere; his hands were skilled, his mouth even more so.

he liked how pliable and supple your body was, how plush and soft your thighs were under his calloused hands. you shivered as he ran a finger along your slit, making you tremble as you keep as still as possible. rayleigh, you come to find, is experienced and passionate; you grow impossibly drunk from all his teasing — to the point that you’re panting and begging him to fuck you.

“all in good time.” his voice is gravelly when he nips at your exposed clavicle, cock hard and heavy; he knows he should hurry up, but something about you makes him want to take his time — so he can see all the frustrated expressions on your face. you pull him close and wrap your hand around his cock, stroking his length, rattling his nerves until he finally gives in.

he buries his cock to the hilt, hips pulling back and snapping forward roughly against you. letting out a breathy moan, you can feel just how slick your pussy is from your arousal. legs wrapped around him, you lean up to kiss along his jaw; he chuckles and indulges you, hands gripping your thighs, fingers likely to leave bruising marks behind from how tight he’s holding you. rayleigh fucks with you with fervor and selfishness that serves as a daunting reminder — that you’ll never find someone else like him after this.

“ace,” you pant as quietly as you can, but you’re struggling badly. the 2nd division commander has you in a back hallway on the ship early in the morning. he’s grinning like a fool, clearly entertained by your insistence on keeping quiet. he kisses you as he knocks his hips against yours, his cock sliding deeper inside your pussy; he holds you up against the wall as your legs stay wrapped around him.

you buck your hips against his, doing your best to match his thrusts, but his strokes are deadly and frenzied.

“wait, wait, ace slow down,” you whisper, sighing pleasantly when his cock reaches a sweet spot that has you clenching around him tightly.

“can’t,” he says in response, breath warm against your jaw, “stay. unless you want to get caught.” he gives you a meaningful look that’s accompanied with a smirk. you purse your lips but shake your head. it would be easier if you could stay mad at him, but he’s too cute and funny and attractive — plus, you like that he’s bold enough to fuck you in public without a care in the world. you hear voices off in the distance and panic, eyes widening as you look back at him.

but ace only winks and tells you to hold on tight.

as you bite down on the fleshy part of your palm to keep yourself from screaming, ace pummels his thick cock into your cunt mercilessly, balls slapping against you loudly. the sound is lewd and tantalizing; you find that you can barely keep up with his thrusts, but you do your best anyway.

apparently, he’s determined to make you cum before your crew mates catch you. and as much as he jokes that he wouldn’t care if someone saw you, a small wave of jealousy passes through him at the thought of anyone seeing you like this. he wants to finish up quickly so he can take you somewhere more private. it’s when he bites your neck roughly and pants against your skin that you cum unexpectedly, a blinding, white hot flash filling your vision as you forget yourself and scream his name.

the rain has yet to let up, not that it matters to you since you’re trapped in yet another argument with your thick-skulled boyfriend. you can’t even remember what triggered the argument in the first place, and because stuff like this makes you extra sensitive, you end up crying.

he sighs at the sight of your face flushing and eyes closing as you try to wipe away the tears, as if they were bothersome and unnecessary. guilt eats away at his chest, making it hard to swallow or breathe; he knows he should apologize, but he’s just so terrible at it. so, he does the one thing he knows how to do — apologize with his hands and mouth.

the mattress is soft beneath him as you straddle his hips and slowing sink onto his cock; you both shed your clothes some time ago, lips swollen from kissing him hungrily, an insatiable need seeping into your pores and making you greedy. you place kisses along the base of his throat, hips rocking forward as he thrusts into your cunt slowly. and while he’d love to just fuck you senseless — something quick and dirty — he knows that you’d appreciate his apology more if he took his time.

so, he does.

you sigh against his lips, fingers threading through his hair, tugging on the short strands. his chest is broad and firm, your nipples harden each time they rub against his light brown skin. slipping your tongue into his mouth, you cradle his face in your hands as he continues to give you broad, sensual strokes that have you whimpering in the most pathetic way against him. he likes you like this, though, and tells you as much when he presses a kiss along your jaw.

he finds forgiveness when you bounce on his cock a little harder, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs onto your ass to thrust into your pussy at a devastating pace. tears coat your eyelashes, but they primarily because zoro’s fucking you like he loves you. and maybe he does; you don’t want to think about that too much, because the intimacy behind it scares you.

jealousy, you think, looks good on him.

sanji rarely likes to show his true jealous side to you, it’s less playful and much more charged, possessive but you don’t mind that at all. earlier, zoro had offered to help train you and before you could turn him down — you’d seen firsthand just how brutal he is with his workouts — sanji was already up in arms over it. they argued for the entire afternoon, but by then you were already annoyed over the situation and dragged sanji off to calm him down.

his face is flushed when you kiss him suddenly and pull him into a broom closet without thinking too much about it. you can’t remember if you locked the door, but it doesn’t really matter. all you care about is wanting to give your silly boyfriend a little bit of attention.

your idea of giving attention is rubbing his half-hard cock through his pants, smiling slyly against his lips when you feel him shiver. in one fluid motion, you sink to your knees, fingers quickly unzipping his pants and tugging it lower. you pull his cock out and admire the shape of it, the slight curve always made your mouth water; before he can say anything, your tongue darts out and swipes at his slit, the pre-cum slightly salty in your mouth.

you make a big show of licking your lips, which only causes another flush to stain his cheeks. whenever you get like this, he has no choice but to follow your whims; he likes that about you, a lot. that you take charge and keep him grounded whenever his feelings get to be a bit too much for him to handle.

he opens his mouth to apologize, but you kiss his tip and he forgets all about it, mind short-circuiting momentarily, which gives you the opportunity to take him by surprise again.

“i don’t care that you’re jealous,” your voice is honeyed and sweet, wrapping itself around him comfortably, a lust-filled haze taking over his mind when you wrap your lips around him and suck. you run your tongue flat along his length, taking your time to lick all over before you take his cock into your mouth completely.

sanji’s breath slows and he does his best to not fuck your face, but then you’re massaging his balls and bobbing your head faster — so he does the most impractical thing and bucks his hips forward and thrusts his cock further down your throat. you gag around him, the pressure intense but welcomed; if he didn’t already know that you like it rough, he’d feel bad — and he still does, but he hasn’t voiced that out loud just yet. you don’t care though; truly, you don’t. you just want him to feel as relaxed as possible, but how can he relax when your mouth is warm and wet, when you’re looking at him tenderly, like you’d be on your knees for him every day if he asked you?

you let him have his way, and he doesn’t last very long, but you keep still, hold onto his thighs, nails sinking into his skin when his cock goes a little too deep. when he sees the tears roll down your cheeks, it ignites something in him and he cums in your mouth, your name a soft chant that tumbles out of his parted lips. he feels feverish and dizzy, but very much alive. you rub your thighs together as you swallow the thick load, smiling prettily at him, head tilted slightly while you boldly ask, “do you feel better now?”

he knows better than to piss you off, but he does it intentionally anyway. the captain of the red hair pirates loves pushing your buttons; he likes when you roll your eyes at him, when you pout cutely and demand he take you seriously; he likes when you don’t stop him when he kisses you openly, mouth possessively staking its claim against yours.

if you weren’t so used to his whims, you’d have the decency to act bashful.

you have a short temper that he’s been warned about time and time again; except, shanks doesn’t fucking listen — nor does he care.

so when he has you bent over one of the tables in the kitchen late one night after you both argued and drank and argued again, you have no choice but to forgive him. especially when he his thick cock is buried deep inside your pussy, his large hand pressing down on your lower back as you grip the sides of the table. your legs shake, but you know better than to complain right now. shanks fucks you hard, the wooden table scraping against the floor every time his hips knock roughly against yours.

“shanks, fuck,” you cry out, chest heaving as you try to keep your sanity intact. his chuckles annoy you, but he knows that you only pretend to act annoyed with him because you like the way he makes up with you. your ass bounces back against him, jiggling from the ferocity behind his thrusts.

“careful, doll,” he grabs your hip to power into you — his strokes turning you into a mumbling, delirious mess, “thought you didn’t want us to get caught.” he sounds so fucking pleased with himself, and you hate that your pussy is wet enough that you can take him without much prep. you blush at the thought of being caught and remind yourself to keep quiet.

“oh, don’t stop now on my account,” his voice lowers substantially, you crane your neck to hear him better, and you just know without having to look at him that he’s got a pleased smile on his face. that man works every nerve in your body, but you like him too much to leave him properly.

you press your lips together to stifle another moan, but then shanks keeps his hips close to yours and gives you short, rough thrusts that you struggle to keep up with. with your back arched, you make for a pretty sight; he knows he should finish quickly, but he likes watching you hold onto the edge of the table like it’s your only lifeline. you don’t even have time to process the orgasm that passes through you because it happens so suddenly.

he teases you mercilessly and without remorse, but you take it; you take the rest of his frenetic thrusts, take the way he slides his hand underneath you to rub your clit. your body is much too sensitive, and when you moan his name like that, it flips a switch in him. you doubt you’ll be able to walk properly after this, but you’re not too worried about that; shanks bullies his cock in and out of your needy hole until he’s satisfied, successfully wrenching another orgasm out of you that makes you slump over the table weakly.

“don’t tell me you’re all done,” he presses a kiss on the side of your neck, lazily grinding against you, every bit as greedy as he always is. you can barely stand, but you feel alive in the best sort of way, already forgetting that you were mad at him in the first place.

you knew better and you still didn’t listen.

the restraints around your wrists dig into your skin a bit, but they don’t hurt that much; you squirm around on the bed, not liking that you can’t touch yourself or him. but he told you earlier to behave and you still chose to ignore his warning.

now you’re paying for it.

although, you wouldn’t exactly call this sort of thing a punishment.

law’s mouth latches onto a patch of skin on your inner thigh, teeth and mouth leaving behind marks that serve as little reminders for later. you whimper softly, but he pays you no mind, instead moving to the other thigh, tongue running along your skin. you buck your hips forward to get him to touch you properly, but all he does is click his tongue at you in faux-disappointment.

“seems like you still need to learn,” he says sharply, his eyes a dark amber, the look he gives you is equal parts fierce and mesmerizing. you want to kiss him, to run your hands down his chest, but he won’t let you and you’re upset about it.

when it looks like you’re about to say something that’ll piss him off, he stuffs your panties inside of your mouth to keep you quiet. your pleas are muffled but he pulls your hips close, mouth brushing along your slit, making you tremble with need.

he knows he should probably ease up, but if he doesn’t teach you now, then you’ll keep the same bad habits and he can’t have that, now, can he? you’re nearly in tears when he finally flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit, hips jerking forward when he swirls his tongue around. you can feel your saliva dampen your panties. you close your eyes briefly, ecstasy filling every part of your body when he stops and says, “keep your eyes on me.”

you want to tell him that it’s damn near impossible, but you try to follow his instruction anyway.

law eats you out with purpose and vigor, his mouth a sinful delight as he french-kisses your pussy without restraint. he teased you for so long that your nipples ache from being hard and untouched. you could kill him for that. and law is smug in his own way, enjoying you at his leisure, slurping and licking your pussy with fervor.

you thrash against him and he holds you steady; you can barely keep your eyes open and you feel like you’re having an out of body experience when he glides his lithe fingers inside your cunt. law fingerfucks you lazily, sucking on your clit like it’s his favorite piece of candy. when you cum, your moans are strangled and garbled, vision blurring as you ride his mouth shamelessly, a sharp pain on your wrists from the way you keep tugging fruitlessly.

he could let up but won’t, taking pleasure in watching you fall apart for him; you tell yourself that once you’ve calmed down, you’ll just have to pay him back in kind later when he least expects it.

[ahhrenata]

I just imagined a scene where Steve has like his little unhinged boyfriend moment and just licks across Eddie's cheek. Eddie's giggling and Robin is watching this á la 'live robin reaction'.

We always write or draw Eddie doing this to Steve but if we really think about it. Steve is touch-starved af - Steve was so tactile with Nancy. And now he's with someone who allows and enjoys this kind of playful side to be unleashed. He's finally allowed to be his childish playful self that years of monster-hunting, protecting and neglectful parenting (my hc at least) almost destroyed.

Just felt like sharing this with you - Idk why tho 😅😅 (Ok. secretly I'm hoping you get inspired. But it's absolutely valid if you don't.)

I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT. I agree!!! Steve would totally have some unhinged moments 😂