#when i say that i want to be overwhelmed by his touch this is what i mean

[promptedwordsmith]

I love your headcannons so I gotta put an ask in here. As we all know, MC can act a bit childish and is quick to push touch/affection away.

It makes me think of the quote, "If you touch me without violence, you'll be the first". Would love a writing about it.

Aw thank you! I hope this is what you meant <3

Caleb

The first time Caleb touched you, you flinched.

It was barely anything—a fleeting brush of his fingers against yours as he handed you something, an innocent, meaningless gesture—but your entire body stiffened, your breath hitched, and before you even realized it, you had yanked your hand back.

The warmth of his skin lingered, and you hated it.

Caleb noticed. Of course, he did. His sharp violet eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t say anything. Not then.

But he never stopped touching you.

Not in a way that was forceful or overwhelming. Never in a way that felt like he was trying to push you past your boundaries. But it was there—the careful way his shoulder would bump into yours when you walked side by side, the way he’d place his hand on your lower back as he guided you through a crowd, the way his fingers would brush against your wrist when he passed you something.

Each time, your reaction was the same. A flinch. A step back. A refusal.

At first, he gave you space. He didn’t push, didn’t question. Caleb wasn’t the type to force someone into anything they weren’t ready for. But he wasn’t blind either. He saw the way your guard never dropped, the way your muscles tensed at even the gentlest touch.

And then, one night, he finally asked.

You were both standing outside, the city lights stretching far into the distance, stars barely visible beyond the haze. It was quiet between you, peaceful, until he broke it with a simple question.

“Why do you hate being touched?”

You froze.

Your fingers curled into fists, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to ignore him, wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard, but Caleb wasn’t the kind of person who let things slide.

When you didn’t answer, he turned to face you fully, his voice steady but softer than usual. “It’s not just me, is it?” His eyes searched yours. “You don’t let anyone touch you.”

You swallowed hard.

And then you said it. The words that had been sitting on your tongue for years, unspoken, buried beneath layers of defense and survival.

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The weight of those words crushed the space between you.

Caleb didn’t react right away. He didn’t wince, didn’t gasp, didn’t give you that pitying look you dreaded seeing. Instead, he just stood there, his violet gaze locked onto yours, taking in everything you weren’t saying.

You braced yourself for rejection, for discomfort, for him to leave—but he didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, he let out a slow breath and said, “…Then I guess I’ll have to be first.”

Your stomach twisted. “Caleb—”

“I won’t push you.” His voice was firm but patient. “I won’t touch you until you let me.”

That should’ve been the end of it. It should’ve been the part where you turned away and let him go, where he accepted your boundaries and never tried again.

But the problem was Caleb never stopped caring about you.

And worse? You had let yourself care about him too.

Caleb never tried to force his way into your space, never laid a hand on you without permission. But he stayed.

He stayed through the silence, through the bad days, through the moments when you wanted to push everyone away but couldn’t bring yourself to do it with him.

He made himself a constant.

And that was dangerous.

Because the longer he stayed, the more you caught yourself wanting to reach for him.

The more you caught yourself watching his hands—the same hands that had held weapons, that had taken lives, that had commanded entire fleets—and wondering how they would feel if they touched you gently.

The more you caught yourself leaning in just a little when he stood beside you, like some part of you was trying to unlearn a lifetime of flinching.

You weren’t used to it.

You weren’t used to someone treating you like you were something precious instead of something hardened. You weren’t used to someone looking at you like you were worth waiting for.

And it scared you.

Because if you let yourself have this, if you let him in—what then?

It happened one night when you weren’t thinking.

You had both been caught in a battle, pushed to your limits, and despite everything—despite all the odds—you had both made it out alive.

Caleb was covered in cuts and bruises, exhaustion heavy in his limbs, but the moment he saw you stumble, he reached for you instinctively—just like he always did.

And this time, for the first time, you didn’t pull away.

His hands found your arms, steadying you, grounding you. You felt his warmth, his strength—and you let him hold you.

It was so small. So insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Just his hands on your arms, steady and reassuring. But to you, it felt like something shattered.

Caleb stilled, his grip light, as if he half-expected you to come to your senses and shove him away. His eyes searched yours, cautious, waiting.

But you didn’t move.

For the first time, you let yourself be touched without bracing for pain.

Without expecting violence.

Without fear.

And the look Caleb gave you in that moment—soft, careful, like he knew exactly how much this meant even if you hadn’t said a word—was enough to make something inside you break.

You swallowed hard, pulse racing.

“You’re the first.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, barely a whisper, but Caleb heard them.

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the edge of your sleeve in the gentlest motion imaginable.

“Then I’ll make sure I’m never the last.”

And you believed him.

For the first time in your life, you actually believed someone.

Because Caleb had never broken a promise to you before.

And deep down, you knew he never would.

Rafayel

Rafayel had always been affectionate—too affectionate, if you were being honest. It wasn’t just the teasing smirks or the casual way he draped himself over you like a cat seeking warmth. It was the way his hands would linger, the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way he spoke your name like it was something precious.

But you weren’t used to it.

So, when he leaned in too close, when his fingers brushed against yours absentmindedly, when his warmth wrapped around you in unspoken promises of safety, you pushed him away. Not roughly, not cruelly, but firm enough to make the message clear.

He didn’t take offense, at least not outwardly. Rafayel always bounced back with a lopsided grin, a lazy roll of his shoulders, as if to say, Fine, I’ll wait. But there was something in his eyes—something quieter, something more knowing.

And you hated that.

Because deep down, you knew what he saw.

He saw the way you flinched, even when his touch was gentle. He saw the way your shoulders tensed whenever he got too close, the way you shrank away from affection like it was a foreign language you never learned to speak.

Most people didn’t notice. Most people assumed you were just distant, that maybe you simply weren’t the affectionate type.

Rafayel knew better.

And that made him dangerous.

It started one evening, after one of his exhibitions. The gallery had emptied out, the patrons long gone, and yet he lingered, still basking in the afterglow of another successful night. You had stayed behind too, for reasons you weren’t entirely sure of. Maybe because he had asked. Maybe because it was easier than saying no to him.

He had pulled you into the back room where his latest painting was covered with a cloth. With a dramatic flourish, he yanked it away, revealing the canvas beneath.

It was you.

Not a perfect replica, not a stiff, lifeless portrait. It was you in motion, caught mid-laugh, the golden glow of light flickering behind you as if you were something divine.

It took your breath away.

You swallowed hard, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “You painted this?”

“No, it painted itself.” Rafayel smirked, stepping closer. “Of course I painted it.”

You didn’t have words. You didn’t know how to process something so raw, so intimate. It was one thing for someone to look at you, but it was another thing entirely for someone to see you. And Rafayel had always seen you.

That was the problem.

“I—” The words stuck to your throat. You weren’t good at this. At accepting things. At being loved without conditions, without expectations.

And then, just like always, Rafayel reached for you.

His fingers, long and paint-stained, brushed against your wrist—light, hesitant, careful. No force, no demand, just warmth.

And just like always, you flinched.

You stepped back so fast you almost knocked over the easel. “Don’t.” The word escaped before you could stop it, sharp and unsteady.

Rafayel’s hand froze midair before he slowly pulled it back. His expression didn’t falter, but there was something—something—in his eyes. He tilted his head, studying you with that same knowing look that had always unsettled you.

“Why?” His voice was soft. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just curious.

Your throat tightened. You wanted to tell him to drop it. You wanted him to go back to making jokes, to fill the silence with something light, something meaningless.

But he didn’t.

Because Rafayel never let things go.

You swallowed. “Because… if you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words hung between you, heavy and raw.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Rafayel exhaled, slow and careful, as if he were afraid of shattering you. “Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t apologize, didn’t pity you. He just stood there, watching you with those piercing blue-pink eyes of his, like he was unraveling all the pieces of you you’d kept hidden for so long.

It made you want to run.

And maybe he saw that too, because he took a step back. Gave you space.

“Okay,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Okay?”

He nodded. “I won’t touch you. Not unless you want me to.”

The simplicity of it made something inside you ache.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

For the first time in your life, someone didn’t demand. Someone didn’t take.

Someone just waited.

Days passed, and true to his word, Rafayel never touched you. He still leaned into your space, still gave you that infuriatingly charming grin, but his hands never reached for you again. Not once.

And you hated that you noticed.

You noticed the absence of his touch. You noticed the way his fingers twitched when he was excited, the way his hands curled into fists like he had to remind himself not to reach for you. You noticed how much you wanted him to.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

And one night, when he was sitting beside you, lazily sketching something while you both watched the waves crash against the shore, you made the first move.

It was small. Barely anything.

Just your pinky brushing against his.

But Rafayel noticed.

His breath hitched, and his gaze flickered to you, cautious, questioning.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt electric, buzzing with something unspoken, something fragile.

Then Rafayel, ever patient, ever waiting, turned his hand palm-up beneath yours.

An invitation.

Not a demand.

You hesitated, your heart pounding, before slowly—so slowly—you let your fingers slip into his.

Warmth. Solid, steady warmth.

No violence.

No pain.

Just him.

Rafayel said nothing, didn’t make a big deal of it. He just held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had been waiting lifetimes for it.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been waiting too.

Sylus

The first time Sylus touched you, you flinched.

It was subtle—just a stiffening of your shoulders, a flicker of tension in your stance. But for someone as dangerously observant as Sylus, it was enough. His fingers had barely brushed your wrist—light, almost teasing—as he leaned in to whisper something low in your ear.

And yet, you recoiled.

He didn’t comment on it then, only let a smirk curl at the corner of his lips as if he hadn’t noticed.

But he had.

Of course, he had.

Sylus never missed anything.

Sylus was nothing if not patient.

He had seen resistance before. He had encountered people who feared him, people who worshipped him, people who wanted something from him. But you?

You were different.

You didn’t fear him—you feared being touched.

And that… was fascinating.

So, he tested it.

Little things, at first. A hand at the small of your back as he guided you through a door. A knuckle brushing over your cheek under the excuse of tucking away a stray strand of hair. A moment where he let his fingers graze yours when he passed you something.

Every time, your body tensed—just slightly—but you didn’t pull away.

Not right away.

You always let it happen for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if waiting for something.

And that was when he knew.

You weren’t just unused to affection.

You were waiting for it to turn into something else.

Something harsher. Something cruel.

Something violent.

And that realization—that truth about you—made his blood burn with something he couldn’t quite name.

The night it finally broke, Sylus hadn’t meant to push too far.

It had been a long evening, tension thrumming beneath the surface between you both like an electric current. You had been irritatingly stubborn during negotiations, as always, challenging him, testing him, making him bite back a smirk as you stood your ground.

But the moment that lingered with him was after, when the night had settled and you had found yourself alone in his office.

He approached you like he always did—without hesitation.

This time, he touched your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. It wasn’t just teasing.

It wasn’t just a test.

It was real.

And you panicked.

You slapped his hand away, hard. The sound cracked through the air, sharp and startling, but Sylus didn’t react. He barely blinked, only watching as you took a step back, breath uneven, eyes wild.

His fingers flexed once before he let them drop to his side.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, quietly—

"If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first."

It wasn’t said with anger. It wasn’t a warning or a threat.

It was just… the truth.

And Sylus, for once in his life, didn’t have a response.

Something Unspoken

After that, he changed tactics.

He didn’t stop touching you entirely—no, never that. But he let you decide.

He let you approach him.

He gave you space but stayed close enough that you could always reach him if you wanted to.

And, for a while, you didn’t.

But then—

One night, after an exhausting mission, you sat beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his. You didn’t move away.

Another time, when exhaustion weighed on you, you let him take your wrist to check your pulse, your fingers trembling slightly—but not from fear.

And then, the night that changed everything—

You let him touch your face again.

This time, when his hand cradled your cheek, you leaned into it.

Not much. Just a fraction. Just enough that he could feel the shift.

Just enough for him to know.

And that was all the permission he needed.

Slowly, deliberately, his thumb traced the curve of your jaw, his voice low when he finally spoke:

"I would never hurt you."

Your breath hitched.

He felt it.

He didn’t ask why it was so hard for you to believe him. He didn’t ask who had left you expecting pain from every touch, from every lingering moment.

He only let his hand remain where it was, grounding, steady—yours, if you wanted it.

And finally, you did.

You didn’t say anything that night. You didn’t have to.

But after that, something changed.

Sylus, perceptive as always, noticed immediately.

The way your body no longer tensed at his presence. The way you lingered just a little closer when you stood beside him. The way your fingers, hesitant at first, brushed against the sleeve of his coat as if testing a boundary you weren’t sure you were allowed to cross.

And the way, eventually, you did.

It happened late one evening, when the city outside was silent, the only sounds in the room the distant hum of a record player spinning on low and the soft shuffle of papers on his desk.

You had been sitting across from him, absentmindedly twirling a pen between your fingers when, out of nowhere—you reached for him.

Your hand, small but steady, settled against his.

No hesitation. No flinching. No fear.

Sylus, always composed, almost stopped breathing.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

But his fingers curled over yours, slow, deliberate—a silent promise.

A promise that, for the first time in your life, someone’s touch wouldn’t bring pain.

And that was enough.

For now.

Xavier

The first time Xavier reached for you, you flinched.

It was instinct, sharp and immediate. His fingers had barely brushed your sleeve before you jerked away, stepping out of reach so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet. His hand hung in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, tilting his head as if trying to decipher something unsaid.

You weren’t looking at him, though. You were staring at your own hands, fingers curled into fists at your sides, knuckles tight. Get it together.

"You okay?" His voice was light, easy, like he hadn’t just watched you recoil from his touch as if it burned.

You forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Just—" You hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "You shouldn’t do that."

Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with something colder than you really felt. "Touch me."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before his expression shifted back to something more familiar—a smirk, teasing but careful. "Alright," he said, as if it didn’t matter. "No touching."

Except it did matter. Because Xavier wasn’t someone who kept his hands to himself—not in an intrusive way, but in a way that made him feel real. He was the kind of person who nudged you with his elbow when he made a joke, who ruffled your hair just to annoy you, who tugged at your sleeve when he wanted your attention.

But he listened.

For the next few weeks, he was careful. He kept his distance, kept his hands in his pockets, kept a respectable space between the two of you even when it was just the two of you on a mission, walking side by side.

And for some reason, it made your chest ache.

You wanted him close.

You just didn’t know how to let him be.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. If anything, that was the problem.

Xavier had wormed his way into your life in a way no one else had before. He was constant—too constant, maybe. There was no hesitation in the way he cared, no moment of doubt in his affection. He liked you, so he showed it. He wanted to be around you, so he was. There was no second-guessing, no caution.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Because affection had always come with conditions. Because touches had always been accompanied by something sharp—by expectation, by control, by violence.

So the idea of Xavier touching you with nothing but warmth?

It scared you more than any fight ever had.

"You ever gonna tell me why?"

You blinked up from where you sat at the edge of a rooftop, staring out at the cityscape below. Xavier was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

"Why what?"

"Why you don’t like me touching you." His voice wasn’t accusing, wasn’t pushing—it was just curious.

You swallowed. "I just don’t."

Xavier hummed, as if considering that. "You sure about that?"

You tensed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, stepping forward—not close, but closer. "I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes."

Your heart skipped. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupted, voice softer now. "Like you want me to reach for you, but you don’t know if you should let me."

You exhaled sharply. "It’s not that simple."

"Then explain it to me."

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your sleeves, gripping tightly. You should have expected this—Xavier wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He was patient, sure, but he wasn’t blind. He noticed things, noticed you.

And now, he was waiting.

You stared at your hands. "If you touch me without violence," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "you’ll be the first."

Silence.

For a moment, you thought he might not have heard you. But then, after a long pause, Xavier let out a quiet breath.

"That’s a damn shame," he said. His voice was soft, but not pitying. "Because you deserve better than that."

You didn’t look at him. "Maybe."

"You do," he said, firmer this time. "And I want to prove it to you."

Your breath hitched. "Xavier—"

"I won’t touch you until you want me to," he promised. "But when you do?" His gaze was steady, unwavering. "I’ll make sure you never have to doubt it."

It took time.

Xavier kept his promise. He didn’t touch you—not even accidentally. He was careful, patient in a way that made your chest ache. But he never pulled away emotionally. He was still there, still unwavering, still him.

And slowly, slowly, you started to realize something.

You wanted to close that distance.

You wanted him.

It started small—lingering closer when you walked together, sitting next to him instead of across the room, letting your shoulders brush just slightly before pulling away. And Xavier noticed. He always did.

But he didn’t push.

He let you take your time, let you move at your own pace.

Until one night, after a mission, when you were exhausted and sore and tired of your own fear, you turned to him and—hesitantly, carefully—reached for his hand.

His fingers twitched in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. He let you take his hand in yours, let you squeeze it lightly before letting go just as quickly.

You expected him to say something—maybe tease you, maybe push for more. But he didn’t. He just smiled, warm and real.

"Was that so bad?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

Xavier chuckled, but there was something softer in his gaze. "Alright. No teasing. Not today, anyway."

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. "I hate you."

He grinned. "You love me."

You paused.

Then, quietly, you admitted, "Yeah."

Xavier stilled. His smile faltered—just for a second—before it softened into something genuine. Something real.

"Good," he murmured.

And for the first time, when he reached for you, you didn’t pull away.

Zayne

Zayne had always been patient. It was in his nature, woven into the fabric of his being just as much as his steady hands and level-headed presence. As a surgeon, patience was a necessity—an unwavering calm in the face of pressure, a stillness when chaos reigned.

But this was different.

This was you.

You, with your guarded eyes and the walls you built around yourself so high that even he, with all his skill, couldn’t navigate them easily. He had known from the start that you were different—not because you were difficult, not because you weren’t capable of love, but because the world had been cruel to you in ways it hadn’t been to him.

And still, he wanted you.

It started slow. The quiet companionship, the moments where neither of you needed to speak but simply existed together. A shared cup of tea in the morning. The warmth of his coat draped over your shoulders on a cold night. He never pushed, never asked for more than you could give, and yet…

Even he had limits to his patience.

Zayne had always been affectionate. Not in a way that was overwhelming, nor in grand declarations. No, his love was in the small things—in the way his fingers would brush against yours when passing you something, in the way his voice would soften when speaking your name, in the way he would lean in, close enough that you could feel his warmth but never quite touching.

And so, when he reached for you one evening—just a simple touch, the lightest brush of his fingertips against your wrist—he hadn’t expected you to recoil the way you did.

You flinched, your entire body going rigid, as if his touch had burned you.

Zayne froze. His hazel-green eyes flickered with something unreadable before he slowly withdrew his hand, watching you carefully. He wasn’t offended, nor was he hurt, but there was something in his expression that made your stomach twist.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice quieter than you intended.

His brows furrowed slightly. “I—”

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, raw and sharp. The room felt heavier in their wake, like the air had been sucked from it.

Zayne didn’t speak for a moment. He simply looked at you, studying you in that careful way he always did—like he was dissecting a puzzle, trying to understand without breaking it further.

You hated the silence. Hated the way it stretched between you like an open wound.

Then, finally, he exhaled softly.

“I see.”

And just like that, he shifted back, putting a comfortable distance between you. Not out of rejection, not out of frustration, but because he understood. He always understood.

You expected him to ask. To pry. To demand to know what had led you to this—why you had flinched, why you had spoken those words with such bitterness. But he didn’t.

He simply nodded, accepting it as fact, and changed the subject.

It should have been a relief.

It wasn’t.

Because Zayne, for all his patience and for all his understanding, was not one to simply forget.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Zayne hadn’t touched you since.

Not in the way he used to. No fleeting brushes of his fingertips, no teasing nudges, no quiet, lingering moments where his warmth bled into yours. It was as if he had drawn a line in the sand and refused to cross it.

You told yourself it was for the best.

So why did it feel so much worse?

You had never needed touch. Never craved it, never longed for it. But now, in the absence of it, you felt its loss like a phantom pain. You missed it.

You missed him.

And so, when you found yourself standing outside his apartment one evening, your fingers curled into fists at your sides, you knew you had to do something.

The door opened before you could even knock.

Zayne blinked at you, surprised but not displeased. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you in.

You hesitated.

And then, taking a deep breath, you walked past him, into the familiar warmth of his home.

He didn’t ask why you were there.

He simply poured you tea, as he always did, and waited.

You stared at the cup in your hands, fingers tightening around the ceramic.

“I don’t…” You hesitated. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Zayne tilted his head slightly, watching you with quiet patience. “Stop what?”

You swallowed. “Touching me.”

For the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely surprised. Not in a dramatic way—Zayne was never dramatic—but in the way his fingers stilled against his cup, in the way his gaze softened ever so slightly.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

“I did.” Your throat felt tight. “I do. But I also… I don’t know.” You exhaled sharply. “I just… don’t want you to stop trying.”

Something in his expression shifted.

He set his cup down carefully before looking at you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. Not with judgment, not with pity—just understanding.

“I never stopped,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

“I just adjusted,” he continued. “To what you needed.”

And you realized, with startling clarity, that he had been touching you. Just not in the way you had expected.

It was in the way he always made you tea, the way he listened so intently, the way he never pushed, never pried, but always made sure you knew he was there.

He had been touching you in the only way you would allow.

And now? Now, you wanted more.

Tentatively, hesitantly, you reached out.

Your fingers brushed against the back of his hand, and you felt him still beneath your touch.

It was light. Barely there. But it was enough.

Zayne didn’t move. Didn’t push for more.

He simply let you choose.

And, for the first time in your life, you did.

You let yourself be touched—gently, without violence, without fear.

Zayne, patient as ever, simply held still and let you set the pace.

And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid.

[melercies]

pairing(s): thanos x (slightly implied fem reader, but gender-neutral pronouns) x nam-gyu (separately + together)

warning(s): shower sex/smut [minors dni], dirty talk, gender-neutral pronouns, physical/psychological intensity, tension and coercion, rough handling, dubious consent, lowercase usage is intended, and my best interpretation of the two characters.

author's note: can we please talk about as to why thanos chest moved like that in the gif after he chest bumped nam-gyu. LIKE WHAT. otherwise, i was holding back myself from losing my sanity writing this. I WAS GIGGLING. please let me know if i missed anything! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated!

Showering with Nam-gyu... he isn't the type to voluntarily suggest showering together. he's too prideful, too rigid in his own habits. if you try to invite him, expect resistance—he'll scoff, wave you off, maybe even sneer, "what, you think i can't wash myself?" but if you're persistent—or if he's in a vulnerable state, exhausted or frustrated—he might begrudgingly accept.

the moment he's in there with you, though, everything shifts. he doesn't like feeling exposed, so he overcompensates—gripping your wrist a little too firmly as he takes the soap from your hand, washing you instead. his touch is rougher than necessary, his jaw tight. he's testing you, seeing if you'll let him take over completely.

nam-gyu has his moments—brief moments—where he lets his guard slip just for a little bit. if you turn around and gently wash his back, he stiffens, like he doesn't know how to react. but he won't stop you. he won't say anything, but the way he stands still, the way his breath comes a little slower, tells you more than words ever could.

after you guys get out of the shower, he dries off quickly, efficiently even—wrapping the towel around his waist, avoiding eye contact, acting like nothing just happened. but if you grab a towel and start drying his hair for him? he grumbles at first, tries to shove you away, but if you're patient, he stops resisting. he won't admit it, but the warmth of your touch, the way you're taking care of him, gets to him.

Sex with Nam-gyu in the shower isn't romantic. it's raw, messy, and filled with frustration he won't ever admit. he doesn't do slow, drawn-out foreplay—his hands are rough, gripping you with a possessiveness that makes it clear this isn't about pleasure. it's about control.

you barely have time to register the heat of the water before he's pinning you to the cold tiles, his body pressing against yours, trapping you between the slick surface and his overwhelming presence. "you knew what you were doing when you pulled me in here," he mutters, his breath hot against your ear. his tone is sharp, but beneath it, there's something hungrier, something dangerous.

he doesn't give you room to breathe. his hands roam your body like he owns it, dragging down your hips, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin as he pulls you closer. the cool metal of his rings bites against your heated skin, adding an extra sharpness to every touch, every possessive grip. there's nothing slow or teasing about the way he takes you—it's intense, unrelenting, a mix of frustration and something far more desperate he'd never admit.

the shower's heat made everything slicker, your skin was burning under his touch, water running down both of you in rivulets. his lips are at your neck, biting, sucking, marking—because he wants you to remember this, to feel it longer after you step out of the shower. his hands grip your waist, tilting you just the way he wants, and when he finally thrusts into you, it's without hesitation, without restraint. you cry out from the abrupt intrusion. he grits his teeth, eyes dark with something almost feral, his grip bruising.

he's relentless, every thrust punctuated with a sharp exhale, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you still. the rings on his fingers leave ghostly impressions on your wet skin, a reminder of how firmly he holds you, how thoroughly he's claiming you.

"look at you," he growls, voice thick with amusement and something darker. "already falling apart on me?" but there's something in his expression—something deeper than just the pleasure itself. it's possession. you're his, and he's making damn sure you know it. if you look away, he doesn't hesitate to grab your jaw and lock eyes. "don't look away, look at me while i ruin you, yeah?"

even when he finishes, he doesn't pull away immediately. his arms tighten around you, his chest rising and falling heavily, forehead resting against yours for just a moment—just enough to make your heart stutter. then, as if realizing what he's done, he pulls back, his hands sliding away almost reluctantly. "get cleaned up before the water gets cold." he sounds almost as if he doesn't care, but the way he lingers for a second too long tells you everything you need to know.

Showering with Thanos/Choi Su-Bong...thanos doesn't need to be asked twice. he's casual about it like it's the most natural thing in the world. he'll lean in the doorway, shirt already half-unbuttoned or taken off completely, watching you with that cocky, knowing smile. "water's already running. you coming or what?"

he's not rough like nam-gyu—he's intrusive and deliberate. he gets too close, under the pretense of helping. fingers brushing over your collarbone as he lathers soap onto your skin, lips ghosting your temple as he murmurs something about how good the water feels (and the view too). everything he does is slow, controlled, and meant to sink into you.

he's watching your every reaction, noting every small shift in your breathing, every flicker in your gaze. "you're tense," he'll say, dragging his hands down your arms. but the way he smirks? he likes that tension—like how he can pull at it, stretch it, toy with it practically.

he'll wash your hair too gently, his fingers massaging your scalp, whispering something about how you're so trusting. but there's always something unreadable in his voice. like he's seeing how far he can push, how much you'll let him get away with. "what if i just held you under for a second?" it's a joke—probably. but you feel the way his fingers tighten, just for a moment, before he lets go.

after you guys get out of the shower though, he actually takes his time drying off, watching you as he runs the towel over his arms, down his torso. there's always something suggestive in the way he moves, in the way he watches you. and if you're still standing there, a little shaken from the whole experience? he'll just chuckle, and tease you about it before tossing the towel over his shoulder and leaving you with a lingering, too-knowing smirk.

Sex with Thanos in the shower is an entirely different experience. where nam-gyu is rough, desperate, needing to assert control, thanos takes his time. or at least, he tries to. but patience? that's not really his strong suit.

the second you step under the water, he's already behind you, hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him like he's been starving for this. "think i can wait?" he mutters, his voice low, breath warm against your ear. "not a chance, sweetheart."

he's not gentle—he acts like he'll take his sweet time, but the second he feels your skin slick under his fingers, the temptation is too much. his hands roam over you, pressing soap into your skin, but his grip is firm, his fingers pressing into your thighs, your waist, your chest, everywhere at once.

"you're all wet for me already," he muses, his lips grazing your shoulder before he bites down just enough to make you shudder. his hand slides lower, between your legs, fingers teasing, rubbing slow circles—but only for a moment. because teasing? it's only fun for so long before he needs more.

when he finally thrusts into you, his grip tightens, one hand wrapping around your throat, the other pinning you against the glass wall of the shower. his pace is ruthless and deep, his voice a low growl against your ear. "you feel that?" he murmurs into your ear between rough thrusts. "taking me so well."

unlike nam-gyu, thanos doesn't pace himself—he loses himself in it, breathing hard, groaning your name as he ruins you under the scalding water. his impatience bleeds into every movement, his fingers digging into your skin, pulling you back against him with every sharp roll of his hips.

when he finally finishes, he doesn't even pretend to pull away. he keeps you pressed against him, breathless and spent, his lips dragging along your damp skin as he smirks. "told you i couldn't wait."

Showering with both Nam-gyu and Thanos/Choi Su-Bong? you seriously think showering with one of them was chaotic? try both. you're barely even in the water before they start their usual back-and-forth. "move over, dumbass, you're hogging all the water with how wide you are."—"this is all muscle! besides, maybe if you weren't so short, you wouldn't have to fight for it." meanwhile, you are just standing there, already regretting your life choices.

despite the bickering occasionally, they somehow effortlessly work together when it comes to messing with you. nam-gyu grabs the soap, rubbing it into your skin with just enough force to make it clear that his presence is still strongly there, while thanos watches with an infuriatingly smug expression. then, just as you're adjusting to nam-gyu's rougher touch, thanos steps in behind you, running his hands over the lathered skin nam-gyu worked over, softer but too slow, his voice dropping into something mockingly gentle. "is nam-su being too rough? let me fix that." "it's nam-gyu."

being in the shower with both of them means that the teasing will never stop. if you flinch when the water turns too hot, thanos hums, "sensitive, aren't they?" nam-gyu scoffs, "they're just weak." if you get flustered from the way they're both touching you, thanos leans in, lips ghosting your temple, "look at them, bro. they don't know what to do with themselves." nam-gyu only presents a shit-eating grin on his face, "pathetic. perhaps, we can fix that, hmmm?" and you? poor you was trying so hard not to combust in between the two males.

thanos pretends to be the more helpful one, offering to shampoo your hair like he's doing you a favor, but it's all a setup. he takes way too long, his fingers massaging your scalp in slow, circular motions, his breath warm against your neck. nam-gyu watches with narrowed eyes before stepping in and dumping way too much water over your head to rinse it out, "took too long," he mutters, but you know he did it on purpose.

the moment the shower is over, nam-gyu is out first, muttering under his breath about some things that happened during the shower. thanos, on the other hand, surprisingly, takes his time drying off with a smug expression as he watches you. he's obvious that he's clearly amused by how rattled you look. he leans in before leaving, whispering, "you should've known better than to get in with both of us."

you wanna know the worst part? they both act like nothing happened afterward—except for the occasional smirk from thanos and the side-eye from nam-gyu when you avoid looking at them. and if you get even slightly flustered thinking about it later? oh, they notice.

Having sex with both of them in the shower at once? like I've mentioned before, it was a mistake. a trap. you never stood a chance.

nam-gyu gets to you first, gripping your waist, and pulling you back against his chest. "you should've known better," he mutters, his breath hot against your ear. "letting both of us in here?" his tone is sharp, laced with amusement, but his grip is firm.

thanos, standing in front of you, just smirks. his tilts your chin up, eyes gleaming with amusement. "i think they wanted this..look how eager they are." his fingers trail down your slick skin, teasing, ghosting lower but not quite touching where you need him to.

you barely have time to react before nam-gyu decides he's had enough of thanos's games. his hands tighten on your hips, tilting you exactly the way he wants, and he doesn't hesitate when he finally thrusts into you—rough, deep, making you gasp.

thanos is only amused by the little sounds you make, watching the way your body jolts. he steps closer, tilting your head back, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "let's see if you can handle both of us."

and from there, it's over for you.

one of them is relentless, unforgiving in his pace, making sure you feel every inch of him. the other is just as impatient, just desperate, and you're caught between them, drowning in the intensity of it all.

by the time they're done with you, the water is cold, your legs are shaking, and both of them look way too pleased with themselves.

and worst of all? they aren't going to let you live it down.

[nemisuki]

The Audacity

Synopsis || You've come to the realization that your boyfriend is way too gorgeous to be outdoors alone, time to show everybody he's taken... in your own secret way.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, fluff, no smut or angst, physical touch, kinda suggestive if u squint, flirty and jealous reader, flustered bkg, aged up to seniors, dating au, short fluff oneshot, silly moments, he’s just a lil guy, 806 word count

She couldn't believe the spontaneous words exiting his mouth, there's no way her blonde — who possesses such high levels of intelligence — could be this dense!

The girl jolts up from under the covers, sitting on the bed to give him her full attention.

"Wait wait wait, what did you say?"

His brows furrowed with confusion at her sudden interest, as he mindlessly grabs his phone, slipping it into the side pocket of his trousers.

"I said I'm gonna go buy snacks, ain't shit in the dorms-"

"Dressed like that?!"

The question left her lips before he could even finish, a look of disapproval on her face.

His head snaps back at her in response to the verbal objection — internally wondering what the hell is going on — it's not like her to comment on such trivial matters.

"The fuck? What's wrong with it?"

A frown threatens to form at her concerns, he didn't put much thought behind his clothes. Why should he for such a quick trip-

"You're wearing the sluttiest outfit!"

Everything around him seems to freeze for a moment and he looks utterly dumbfounded.

What in the world is she on about?

"Grey sweatpants AND a black tank top? Oh hell no... you look way too good."

She abruptly stands up and marches in his direction, a visible pout on her face as she shamelessly checks him out, her eyes practically glued on his torso.

The tight fabric only enhances the outline of every muscle and crevice of that chiseled work of art. It doesn't help that his overall physique has grown more prominent throughout their years at UA.

It's simply not fair to look that good so casually, it's sickening!

"So you're jealous?"

A smug smile slowly forms on his face as he reaches out — grabbing a hold of her waist to pull her in — leaning down to get a good look at her.

Feeling his ego skyrocket at her silly declarations.

Those red eyes sparkling with amusement, only causes her thoughts to multiply the longer she stares into them.

Then it suddenly clicks.

"Not at all, but I AM a bit territorial."

He suddenly freezes as she lessens the remaining distance between them, y/n confidently pressing a soft kiss to his neck, the feeling leaving a warm sensation on his skin.

Tingles spread to every part of his body.

His grip on her waist slightly tightens at the contact. Her eyes glanced at his neck then met his flustered gaze a few seconds later.

A gentle smile on her face that causes him to break away from her touch — so overwhelmed he fears things might escalate — shying away just in case, not wanting to seem like a lovesick fool.

"You- uh- I'm heading off now idiot!"

He grabs whatever jacket was at the entrance and hastily puts it on, trying to ignore the increase of his rapid heartbeat.

For some reason she begins giggling behind him, he could only assume she knew how flushed his face was.

"Mkayyyy be safe~"

"Yeah yeah I know."

He walks out of the dorm room in no time, making his way out of campus — in the direction of the nearest convenience store — silently thinking to himself about how much of an idiot she is.

And how much of an idiot he is for her.

Soon enough he reaches the store, grabbing all the snacks he saw necessary, not forgetting to put her favorites in the basket simultaneously.

It was only after a few minutes, when he began noticing multiple stares directed at him while walking around the aisles. His brows furrow with annoyance as he approaches the cash register.

He begins handing the old lady his items, trying to think of a reason for all the unwanted attention he's been receiving since he arrived, what's with everyone?

"Ah you're in love young man? How adorable."

His eyes snapped to the woman behind the counter, caught off guard by her sudden question, suspiciously giving her a once-over.

"Hah? What makes you say that?"

She simply chuckles in response and points at his neck, handing him his change and bag of goodies.

He awkwardly walks out of the store, completely clueless as to what the hell just happened. Out of curiosity, he takes out his phone and opens the camera, his eyes widening at the sight.

A vibrant kiss mark planted right on his neck — her tinted lipstick on full display for everyone to see.

His mind goes on overdrive as he remembers her laugh and words. That possessive brat did this on purpose!

He quickly puts on his hood and dials her number, rushing back to the dorms with purpose. She happily answers at the first ring, oblivious to the chaos she brought upon herself.

"Katsuki hey what's up-"

"YOUR SO FUCKING DEAD!"

"Uh-oh..."

*Your call was disconnected*

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| im trying to think of what to write for valentines day and i have ZERO clue, idk what trope or au to do ughhh. obviously it's gonna be bkg related but im fr so lost! anywayssss wrote this randomly at 2 AM, going to knock out now nighttttt! tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[hrrtshape]

i want the tea emmaaa 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

✶ the latest report on my shift to my better cr (aka kind of a socialite dr)

◞ when i shifted : for way longer. way, way longer. i blinked and suddenly i had months’ worth of memories. time is fake, time is a performance, time is a dinner party where i am the guest of honour and also the mysterious figure slipping out the back door. the ratio? unknown. inconceivable. i went to sleep and woke up and lived. isn’t that enough? but the present in my better cr is currently the present in here !

◞ where i shifted : still new york, still my mom’s penthouse, still living in a pinterest board except this time i fully leaned into it. every single aesthetic touch, every candle, every casually draped cashmere throw. curated to perfection. we are talking "architectural digest home tour where the interviewer is quietly weeping over how good my taste is" levels of perfection. the google maps situation remains the same: in this reality, my house is a hotel. fate? simulation glitch? the universe keeping me humble? who knows.

◞ family dynamics : my older brother remains a tech bro of the most devastating calibre. the type who makes a billion-dollar deal on his phone in between espresso shots, then immediately gets distracted by an art heist conspiracy theory and disappears for a week. my younger brother (he's weirdly obsessed with filming cars for instagram) continues to reside with my dad in the west village, and their place is basically a salon for the emotionally sophisticated. like, picture cigars (unlit, for aesthetic), first edition books, and a record player that only plays vinyls of people arguing in french. my dad..... still at sotheby’s, still slightly overwhelmed, still one misplaced signature away from an auction-house disaster. my mom is still an empire-builder, still the queen of sugar-free decadence, still able to make a CEO cry in under five minutes. i am so obsessed with her.

◞ my friends : lily-rose remains my ride-or-die. our friendship has transcended words and become something closer to an art form. we communicate through glances, through impeccably timed laughter, through the shared knowledge that we are always, always the main characters. also, blair waldorf is STILL in my life, and i am STILL not over it. she tolerates me, which is the highest form of affection. the gossip girl universe continues to imprint itself onto my reality, and honestly? i welcome it. @chaaistained you're still the light of my life xxxx

◞ loml, coryo : mhm. mhm. mhm. (pause for applause). not writing how just yet, but let’s just say the universe finally got the memo. cutest cutie ever.

◞ food : the cafes remain exquisite. the hazelnut croissants remain life-altering. i have officially become one with my iced matcha. my bloodstream is no longer soy milk; it is pure, concentrated vibes. best meal.... one night my mum and i booked out an entire restaurant just to have a private dinner and discuss our enemies. just mother-daughter bonding things. le bernardin continues to serve food so good i nearly cried. and, of course, because i went to paris, we gorged on croissants.

◞ outfits : i wake up. my closet, endless. my options, infinite. every single piece of clothing i have ever wanted? there. there were DAYS i changed outfits purely because i could. there were NIGHTS i sat in front of my floor-length mirror, trying on silk dresses and whispering, "what’s the move tonight?" even if there was no move. just the illusion of one.

◞ school : st. lazarus remains the most iconic institution to ever exist. the uniforms are still perfect. the hierarchy is still thrilling. my classes are as follows !!! :

philosophy : my professor has officially lost his grip on reality. i am his nemesis and also his favourite student. i say things just to watch him spiral. it’s a sport. history : the battlefield. coryo is writing my history IA. i am having the time of my life. literature : divine. ethereal. my professor respects me too much. maths : a struggle but at least my notes look nice. but i did script that i atleast understand what's happening.

◞ social scene : parties, parties, PARTIES. penthouses, rooftops, spontaneous trips. people draped over velvet sofas, half-drunk champagne glasses abandoned on marble countertops. whispered secrets. dramatic exits. nights that felt like music videos.

◞ unforgettable moments : celebrated my younger brother’s 15th birthday. f1-themed, obviously, because he’s still in his karting prodigy era. the cake was a racetrack. the vibe was grand prix meets family sitcom. the whole paris trip. somewhere in the mix: a snowstorm, a museum date, a night spent on the roof because the city looked too beautiful to go inside. got recognised at least once in public. tried a new restaurant where the shakshuka made me question my entire existence. there were art gallery openings where the champagne was free-flowing and the conversations were like a linguistic fencing match. sunday brunches that spiraled into entire days out. afternoons spent trying on impractical dresses just to twirl in fitting rooms. soft launches of new perfumes (because every era needs a signature scent).

◞ books i read : ulysses (continued). the secret history ( i read it in my cr...but...c'mon. it was time ). a collection of sapphic poetry that made me feel like i was floating.

◞ the details that made it real : the way my pen scratched against my notebook in class. the exact weight of my chloé tote in my hand. the way my breath fogged up the glass of my balcony doors when i pressed my forehead against them in the early morning. the quiet click of my mum’s marc jacobs' boots on marble floors.

◞ oh !!! and christmas !!! : christmas in my better cr was in lithuania, obviously. flew out on the 23rd, spent it with the extended family. my grandma made dubai chocolate (not that kind of dubai chocolate...she lives in karoliniškės, ok). my makeup artist aunt got me a lip tint, very on brand. my one-year-old cousin nora is in her cherubic era. we were besties for the week. played with her nonstop. got my younger brother every f1 lego car in existence. my mum got me archival miu miu. my great-grandma saw me, got sentimental, cried a little, made me eat an ungodly amount of cepelinai. very lithuanian of her. left early, landed at jfk at a stupid hour. 1 am. coryo was there in sweatpants, threw his car at the curb like he was in some noir film, very dramatic, very romantic. nearly tackled me. i was gone for less than a week but he missed me like it had been years. got me presents too. he is so lovesick it’s almost embarrassing.

that’s it for now, lovies. i have MORE, obviously, but let’s pace ourselves. mwah xxxxxxx

[revelboo]

hey, hope this months been good to you thus far and that january ended on a good note for you. appreciate you a lot ✌️✌️

Thank you! I hope your year is off to a good start, too

It Had to Be You Pt 17

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Draped against him, one of his hands is resting against your spine, sliding slowly up and down before his servos tangle in the hair at the back of your head. Making a soft noise, you wiggle on top of him, feeling his spark thrumming under you. That steady rhythm soothing you. As familiar now as the beat of your own heart. Still feel off balance from that contact with his spark. The glimpses you’d gotten of his memories feeling as real as your own. “You held back from me,” he says, red optics sliding to you then away as his jaw works. “Why?” Confused, you reach up to touch his bottom lip and his head turns away.

• Thought you’d finally trusted him. That the two of you had gotten past the fighting. Past resisting each other, but you’d not submitted to him when he’d bonded you. Hadn’t given him everything. And your expression is confused when you prop yourself up on your elbows on his chassis to look down at him. “What’s that mean?” Like you don’t realize what you’d done. What you’d denied him. Spark aching with that missing connection, with what should be.

• What’s he in a mood about now? See his lip lift slightly to show denta before he gently thumps the back of his helm against the berth a couple times. “The bond,” he growls, servos shifting against the back of your head, cupping it. “It’s not complete. You have to feel it.” Frowning at his tone, you remember being tangled in him. Overwhelmed as he’d coaxed you, wrapping himself about you. And you’d ignored that sweet pull humming through you, ignored his coaxing.

• “It was a lot,” you mutter, avoiding his optics now. Venting tiredly, he tries to let go of the tension. It hadn’t been a no. You hadn’t denied him. Can feel the imperfect bond prickling through his spark. Demanding to be completed. That he tangle himself so fully in you that you’ll never be free of him. But this isn’t something he can just demand or take. It has to be given willingly. And patience has never been his strength. “I didn’t really know what was happening. You didn’t warn me.”

• “A lot,” he echoes, voice strained. “I offer you everything and it’s a lot.” Servos restlessly playing with your hair, his optics shutter. “I’m trying. You have no idea how hard I’m trying.” Leaning up on him, you brush your mouth against his and he finally looks at you. Annoyed and hopeful all at the same time as his other hand lands on your hip. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that reminds you of the glimpses you’d seen of D 16. Of who he’d been before Sentinel’s lies had broken him of trust. And he’s trusting you, giving you the ability to hurt him. But You hadn’t been able to do the same, you’d balked, because it had felt like losing a piece of yourself giving in to him.

• “I’m trying too, okay.” Those eyes he gets lost in are so serious as you brush another kiss against him that feels like an apology. Knows he should have explained first, should have stopped you from touching him without understanding what you were committing to. Another Cybertronian would have known. Wouldn’t have given up their freedom to tie themself to him willingly. And he’d taken advantage of your ignorance to get what he wanted. To make a permanent claim on you. Would you have still chosen to reach out and forge that imperfect connection if you’d known what it meant? He’s not sure and a hurt part of him isn’t capable of just asking. Afraid of what the answer might be.

Previous

[blakeswritingimagines]

Kink List With Nico Hischier

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He enjoys a calm and intimate aftercare session with you after a romantic night together. He takes time to care for and pamper you, and ensure you feel relaxed and safe. He may give gentle kisses on your head or hold you in his arms while you rest. He wants to be a source of comfort and reassurance after a passionate encounter.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his strong legs and the way they move on the ice. He also appreciates the way your arms wrap around his shoulders or the way your hair feels between his fingers. He loves the way your body curves into his whenever you are close.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Inner thighs - Tenderly marking this sensitive spot can heighten intimacy without being too overwhelming. Or inside of you as to cause can heighten intimacy without being too overwhelming.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Despite his well-liked reputation, he has his own secret pleasure. While you might see him as a respectable individual, he's actually quite kinky and has a darker side. He loves to take control and be praised, and he loves it when you submit to him. He enjoys giving you a spanking or a choke to add to the intensity between you two.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He has experience, but he always seems to be eager to learn new things and make sure that you are satisfied with the experience. He's confident in what he's doing and knows how to make the most of the time he has with you. He loves to explore and try new ideas, and he's always excited to see how you react and respond.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

While he likes experimenting with all sorts of positions, he tends to prefer being on top. It gives him the control he enjoys, and he likes to watch you squirm and lose control. He enjoys seeing your body respond to his touch and the way your eyes are fixed on him. You make an amazing sight when you're pinned beneath him and completely under his control. You can see the intensity in his eyes as he leans in to kiss you and you feel his breath on your skin.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He loves to joke and make you laugh, but he can get really serious when the situation calls for it. He's not afraid to make a smartass comment or tease you a bit, even when you're being intimate. He has a playful side that he enjoys showing you, but he can turn it on and off when necessary.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He takes good care of his body and he's very well groomed. The carpet does match the drapes, and it's always soft and smooth to the touch. He enjoys pampering himself and he spends a lot of time taking care of his appearance, so you never have to worry about anything being out of place.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

During intimacy, he tends to be very romantic and attentive. He's always focused on you and making sure that you feel comfortable and good. He pays attention to your body and listens to what you like and dislike, and he makes a point of taking his time and making sure you enjoy every moment.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He usually takes care of himself a few times a week. He likes to keep himself well-rested and relaxed, especially after a long day or a tiring practice session. When he does, he'll typically take a nice, long shower or a bath to help himself unwind and relax, and he loves to think about you. He imagines himself being close to you and touching you, and the thought of that alone makes him even more relaxed and aroused.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He has a bit of a possessive streak when it comes to you. He likes to feel like he owns you in the bedroom, and he loves to take control and be in charge. He has a bit of a praise kink, and he loves to hear you tell him how good he is and how good he's making you feel. He also likes to be a little bit rough and intense, and he enjoys it when you are willing to be playful and submissive for him. He also has a thing for biting, and he occasionally likes to nibble on you during intimate moments to drive you crazy with desire.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He likes somewhere comfortable and private. He doesn't like doing anything outdoors, and he prefers to have privacy and safety. He likes his bed a lot, as well as the shower or a couch. He's not picky about the location as long as he can have you all to himself.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He loves to see you in a state of ecstasy and he gets off from knowing that he's the one who made you feel that way. He also loves the feeling of connection and intimacy between the two of you, and he gets aroused from being close to you and being the one you're giving yourself to.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn't do anything that makes him uncomfortable or feel unsafe. He also doesn't like being told what to do. He's not into anything that he knows will hurt you or make you upset, and he won't do something just because he knows you want him to. He's respectful of your boundaries, and he'll never do anything that crosses the line.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves giving more than receiving. He likes the feeling of pleasing you and making you lose control. He's skilled and has a talented tongue that knows just where to go. He loves hearing you lose control and moan, and knowing that he's the one who brought you to that point.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He takes his time and goes slow at first, savoring every moment and making sure you're enjoying it. He can get faster and rougher if you want him to, but he's also happy to go slow and take his time. He likes to savor every moment with you, and he wants to make sure you feel comfortable and good. He's always attentive to your body and your reactions, and he'll go as fast or as slow as you want.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn't mind quickies every now and then, but he prefers to take his time when he's with you. He loves to be close to you and to feel every inch of your body, and he doesn't want to rush it. He feels like it's more meaningful and more intimate when he takes his time with you. But sometimes, when you're both busy or too tired, he'll be happy to help you out quickly.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He's not afraid to take risks and experiment. He's always willing to try new things and push the boundaries, and he's open to exploring new ways to make each encounter even more intense and exciting. He won't hesitate to try new positions or try different things, as long as it makes the experience more enjoyable for both of you. He also enjoys the thrill of doing things in risky places, like in the car or a public place.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go for a long time, and he's not easily tired. He has a lot of stamina and endurance, and he can go for as long as you want. He'll take breaks to rest if necessary, but he doesn't need much rest to be ready again. He loves to keep going until you're completely satisfied and exhausted.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He likes to use toys, and he's open to using them on you. He has a few that he enjoys, and he's always willing to experiment with them, as long as you're comfortable with it. One of his favorite toys is a vibrator, as it's very effective in making you feel good and bringing you to the edge of pleasure. He also gets off on seeing you experience so much pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you. He loves to build up anticipation and make you want him even more. He knows exactly what he wants to do to you, and he loves to draw it out and make you feel frustrated and desperate. He loves seeing you squirm and moan, and he loves the way you look when you finally give in and beg for more.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's not loud when you're in public. He's respectful of other people and doesn't want to cause a scene. In private, he's much louder. He doesn't hold back his moans and gasps, and you can hear every single sound he makes. He has a low, deep voice, and his breathless gasps turn you on even more. You can hear every whimper and moan as you pleasure him, and you can hear his soft sighs and whispers in your ear.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He has a secret stash of naughty literature where he likes to read in his off time. It's always a mystery what kind of books he's reading when he's alone, but one thing is certain - they always leave him feeling a bit more aroused than usual.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

His cock is long, hard and thick. The head is slightly rounded with a hint of vein running along the length, and the shaft is muscular and firm. He always keeps it well-groomed, trimmed neatly but not too short.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He's constantly yearning for you. He feels a deep need to be close to you, to hold you in his arms, and to feel your body close to his. He misses you even when you're in the same room. He can't stop thinking about how you feel and how you look, and he always wants more. It's not just sexual, it's more than that. He yearns for your presence, your touch, and your love. It's all consuming.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can fall asleep very quickly, sometimes even while he's still catching his breath. He'll wrap his arms around you and snuggle into your chest, with his face buried in your neck. He'll hold you close to him, like he doesn't want to let go ever. The sound of your heartbeat and the comfort of having you close is enough to make him drift off instantly.

[pissdrinker5000]

the first taste

a hamzah fic

warnings: smutty, kinda dom hamzah, fem reader, not proofread sry for any typos!!

(there was actually a whole part 1 to this but it did not save so heres the pt 2.. sry if there are references from pt 1.. just use ur imagination ig)

You both sit on Hamzahs couch, watching the show he begged you to watch with him, swearing he's going to put you on despite it not being a genre you typically enjoy. Red and Blue lounge on the couch next to Hamzah. After what feels like hours, but is really only halfway through one episode, Hamzah does the classic move, yawning and putting one arm around your shoulder. You shift a bit closer to him, your thighs now pressed against one another's. Your hearts are both racing, and you can't bring yourself to look at him, despite your desire to trace your gaze along his lips and his black curls again.

Hamzah suddenly breaks the tension, as if it was physically paining him not to, but he doesn't really know what to say. "Uh, you look really nice in that outfit."

Surprised, you look down as if you forgot you even had a physical body. And truthfully, you had been so preoccupied thinking about him that you almost did forget. "Thank you. It was just whatever I could find," you lie. You didn't want him to know how much you agonized over picking an outfit this morning. "You look good, too."

He smiles at you, making eye contact for the first time in a while. "Nah, it's just a hoodie and some pants I had laying on the floor."

You both chuckle, knowing the other is lying about how much effort they put into simply getting dressed.

He leans closer to you. Your faces are now close enough that you feel each other's breathing. Your eyes travel from his eyes to his lips. His breath stifles when he notices.

It feels like everything around you has dissolved, and all you can think about is bringing your lips to his. Closing that gap. You're far too nervous to make such a move, though. You try to look away in an attempt to break the tension, but Hamzah lifts his left hand to your face. You feel your skin melt against his touch. His hands are warm and surprisingly soft. He gently nudges your face back to look at him.

You can see the hesitation is his eyes, nervous to mess up what you two have. He leans even closer but stops right before your lips touch, looking up at you for reassurance. You try to tell him with just your eyes how badly you want this, and he somehow gets the message.

He leans in completely, your lips melting together as if they have been longing for each other your entire lives. His kiss is desperate, needy. He pulls away for a second to look into your eyes, and you smile each other before leaning back in, this time more desperate than the first. You place your hand on the back of his head, intertwining your fingers between his thick curls. His hand that was once on your cheek travels down to your waist and pulls you onto his lap.

His other hand makes its way to behind your ear, deepening the kiss. You have never moved this fast with anyone before, but you're filled with an overwhelming desire to explore his entire body. Your imagination races thinking about what he's hiding under those baggy clothes. His left hand sneaks underneath your cardigan and plays with the hem of your top. You twitch slightly at the feeling of his touch on your bare skin, and you accidentally let out a soft noise. He takes this as a sign to kiss you harder than you thought was possible, as you were already extremely close.

Your bodies get hotter, sweat starting to form, and you feel suffocated by the layers you're wearing. You pull back from the kiss to take off your cardigan, and Hamzah takes the opportunity to remove his hoodie, revealing a t-shirt with a stupid ironic saying on it. You crack a smile as you read it before he places both of his hands on your waist and pulls you back towards him to kiss you. This time closer than before. You can feel his bulge harden as your weight pushes down on it. This makes him let out a small groan. His hands become even more desperate, traveling down to your thighs. He grips your upper thigh, unable to hide his desire to be closer to you.

"Hamzah..." You let out in a soft whine.

He pulls back to ask, "Is everything okay?"

You nod your head, not breaking eye contact. "Perfect." You smile and lean in to kiss him again, but are surprised by him laying you down on the couch and positioning himself on top of you.

He looks so hot leaning above you like this, and you can't help but squirm underneath him, your pussy practically begging for him to be inside you.

"You're so beautiful," he remarks. "I knew since the moment I saw you that I'd be obsessed with you." His voice is low and soft. You become aware of the wet mess happening in your undies.

He uses his right hand to cup your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, while his left hand travels to your chest. You squirm and let out a soft, desperate moan as his fingers graze your nipple. Your lips collide once again, your tongues clashing inside each other's mouths. You move your hands to the waistband of his pants, sliding your fingers inside the seam. His hips buckle at the sensation, and he lets out a deep groan into your mouth, refusing to break the kiss. He lets his weight fall on top of you, your crotches pushing against each other needily. "Fuck," he groans.

You push him up and move your hands to the button on his pants, waiting for reassurance before you go any further. "Keep going," he breathes. "Please." You unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper, feeling his length fill up the space that has now opened up. He quickly starts to do the same for your pants, pulling them off as fast as he can, then assisting you with taking off his own. He pulls away from the kiss to admire your now exposed thighs and panties. He licks his lips as he moves his hands down your thighs and places a thumb on your pussy, feeling how wet you are for him. You moan and thrust your hips into his hand, almost involuntarily, overwhelmed by the feeling of him touching you so gently. He grins. Knowing how badly you want him, he's filled with confidence.

You notice the shift from hungry to insatiable, but you don't have long to think about it before he is back to work, kissing you again, moving one hand to grip your tit while the other presses harder into your crotch. Your moans become louder as he handles your body with an increasing confidence. "You're so hot... Where have you been my whole life?" He whispers to you while placing hungry kisses on your neck.

His thumb begins to pull down your panties, and he starts to finger you with his middle and ring finger, using the others to spread your pussy open for easy access. You start to respond to his question, but he shoves his fingers inside you, making you gasp. You forgot what you were even going to say, and all you can muster is a stifled, "Fuck, you're so good," through loud moans.

He thrusts his fingers in an out at the perfect rhythm, making you desperate for more. You move your hands to the waistband of his underwear, but he moves them away, not letting you pull them off. "Wait here, okay?" He says as he leans upright and begins to walk to his room. You wait patiently, listening to him shuffle around, opening and closing drawers. He comes out with a condom in a blue foil package between his fingers. "You okay with this?" He asks, making sure he didn't misread any cues. You nod enthusiastically, smiling up at him. The lighting in his apartment, or maybe it's just your angle, illuminates his muscles. You can't help but stare at his arms as he removes the condom from its wrapper and pulls it onto his length.

He climbs on top of you again and leans down to kiss you. His kiss is just as hungry as before, but with a note of satisfaction that he is finally able to do what he's been waiting for. Finally able to show you what it's like to get fucked by him. Finally able to have his way with your body, like he's wanted to since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't expect to fall in love with anyone any time soon, but now that he knows you, he can't imagine how he got through life without you for so long.

He rubs his dick along your clit, savoring the feeling of your wet pussy. "You're so wet," he remarks in a low grumble.

Your head feels dizzy with desire, and you moan at his touch. "Just fuck me already," you plead, unable to contain your desperation for him. He follows your instruction, slowly pushing his thick cock into your pussy, making you gasp in a whiny moan.

He smirks at the reaction he is able to get from you, and places his hand on your jaw as he thrusts in and out of your tight pussy. He moves his thumb over your mouth, gesturing for you to open. "Such a pretty girl. You're so good," he praises you as you open your mouth and start sucking on his thumb. He pushes it deep into your throat. "You take it so well, love. I'm impressed."

You melt hearing him call you "love." He thrusts into your pussy deeper and harder. "Let's see just how much you can take, huh?" He removes his thumb from your mouth and replaces it with a kiss, before gripping your waist to hold your body steady.

[arthemis005]

NIGHTMARE

You knew this wasn’t a good idea. Bakugou was really serious about his sleep schedule and hated being disturbed.

So you stood there, looking at his dorm door, thinking if this was really a good idea. As much as you tried to rationalize the situation and tell yourself that everything was fine, you knew that neither your heart nor your mind would relax if you didn’t confirm that he was really alright.

After a few deep breaths, you managed to gather the courage to knock on his door. And, of course, you immediately regretted your decision when you were met with silence. You started to turn around, defeated, when suddenly you heard the door open, revealing a very sleepy Bakugou.

"Oi! Do you know what time it is? It's fucking 3 in the morning. What do you want from me, nerd?"

You turned around just to meet Bakugou leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed with a very annoyed look on his face. Hearing his voice was a relief, even if his words were rude, but you refused to look at him.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Yeah, but you already did, dumbass, so spit it out."

"I just... really needed to hear your voice."

You sounded small, almost like a whisper. Bakugou could barely understand what you were saying, but he realized something was wrong.

"Come in." He said as he stepped to the side so you could pass through the door. His tone had changed; it was more gentle and for once he wasn’t screaming.

"What?", you looked at him surprised

"Just fucking come in already."

He turned around, entering his room, and you followed him. His room was dark, but the moonlight was streaming through the window. As you entered his room you were engulfed with his scent which was comforting.

He sat on his bed and motioned for you to do the same. You carefully placed yourself next to him, looking at the ground and fidgeting with your hands. You guys sat there for a few seconds in complete silence until he decided to break it.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you going to keep staring at my rug?"

You looked at him for the first time that night. Your eyes were slightly red, and your cheeks were still wet from your tears.

Bakugou's expression shifted from anger to concern, it was the first time he had seen you like that.

"I had a nightmare..."

You began. Your voice was shaky, but you tried to hide it. Bakugou listened carefully.

"I dreamed about that day... the day we found you, and I saw you... dead."

It had been a week since Bakugou was kidnapped by the League of Villains. Those days were filled with terror for everyone who cared about him, including you. You remembered the efforts everyone made to find him and the overwhelming relief when, after looking for him with Midorya and the others, you saw him safe and sound again. Tears began to roll down your cheeks as you couldn’t hold back, the image of Katsuki Bakugou, lifeless, flashing in your mind. You cared for him deeply, and those days made you realize that maybe your feelings for him went beyond what friends usually feel for each other.

"You were lying there, all bloody and bruised, and I tried to run and save you, but it was too late..."

The room fell silent. You tried to calm yourself as you heard Bakugou shift in his seat. What were you doing here, you were sure he was going to scream at you for waking him up for such a trivial and childish thing.

After a few moments, he spoke, his voice soft despite his harsh words.

"You dumbass, you really think some low-quality villains like them could kill me? Tch, not a chance."

You looked down, unable to maintain eye contact.

"I know it’s a stupid reason to wake you, and I’m so sorry, but after what happened, I just..."

You stopped, looking for the right words to continue but before you could finish your sentence, you felt Bakugou's hand touch yours. The warmth of his hand contrasted with the cold breeze coming through the window, it was soothing.

"Look," he sighed, "I’m here. I’m not dead and I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, Y/n. You can calm down."

His gentle words were rare, but suited the moment. You looked into his eyes, seeing the worry in them.

"Thank you, Bakugou, and I’m sorry again."

"Tch, stop apologizing, dammit. If you were bothering me I wouldn't have let you in"

He quickly pulled his hand away from yours and scratched the back of his neck.

"I think it’s time for me to go back to my room. It's getting late and I need to rest"

You said as you stood up from his bed and turned to the door. Before you could leave you heard him speak again.

"Anytime you have one of those nightmares, you can come to me."

Looking over your shoulder you saw him standing up shyly, his eyes were shining with the moonlight reflecting on them and you could tell that he was serious. You smiled, happy for his unusual kindness.

"Thank you, Bakugou."

"You’re welcome, nerd”

[red-garden]

Liu Qingge was not supposed to hunt the Lunar Madness Beast. It was big, it was fast, it was smart, it was dangerous. Most importantly, it’s saliva can cause a partial transformation effect on the afflicted during the lunar phase the bite occurred.

The beast keeping peak lord told him not to hunt it. Mu Qingfang told him not to hunt it. Even Zhangmen-shixiong told him not to hunt it.

But he had already delivered so many impressive carcasses to Shen Qingqiu’s door and still, the man didn’t seem moved by his courting gifts!

So he hunted it.

And he got bit.

Shen Qingqiu was very impressed with the body! “How are you still alive? We’re explicitly forbidden from attacking them because they’re so dangerous! What were you thinking?” Clearly this was a win.

…… until the next waxing gibbous rolled around.

Horns, claws, fangs, and glowing yellow eyes weren’t a good look. They made it hard to talk, his clothes didn’t fit right, and don’t even get him started on the tail! And there was an overwhelming craving, and insatiable need….. for praise and a scratch behind the ears.

Every moment he didn’t have it, his skin itched. It’s not like he could ask his disciples, he’s their Shizun! And Mu Qingfang would scold him after explicitly forbidding him from hunting the beast……

He was left only with sheepishly sneaking into Shen Qingqiu’s backyard to paw at the door like a pathetic dog begging to be let in.

“I thought you said you weren’t bit?”

Rub it in why don’t you.

After the initial shock wore off, Shen Qingqiu was practically vibrating with excitement. Apparently very few records existed of the transformation since most people bitten were killed in the initial encounter. When he reached up to study the horns, Liu Qingge actually purred at the touch. He was too far gone to even feel embarrassed.

Shen Yuan was…. A bit baffled to say the least. The war god was nuzzling into him like an over large house cat begging for attention. With a tentative pet, the man purred like an engine and tried to hang all his weight on him.

Shen Yuan maneuvered them onto the couch as best he could. Liu Qingge was puddled in his lap, contentedly purring nonstop. Shen Yuan scratched up and down his back, stewing in the absurdity of the situation. The Lunar Madness Beast’s bite had been reported to have all manner of symptoms- extreme violence, heightened libido, gluttony. It sounded more like lowered inhibitions and dominant id but why would acting like a big house cat be the most basic desire of Liu-shidi?

His fingers grazed over the horns again. They were iridescent like some snakes- an intense black until hit with light. “Beautiful…” he muttered aloud.

Liu Qingge’s grip on him tighten and he pushed his face into Shen Yuan’s stomach. His tail (HE GREW A TAIL?!?!???!?) wrapped around one of Shen Yuan’s legs.

It couldn’t be that the War God’s id only wanted for praise and petting!?

[arxiwon]

Love In Full Bloom 𑁍ࠬܓ

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jake × Girlfriend!Reader

Synopsis: Love always felt magical with Jake. From soft forehead kisses to whispered “I love you’s” under the moonlight, every moment with him was a dream. But when he surprises you with a breathtaking night filled with flowers, candles, and a confession that changes everything, you realize—this is what love is meant to feel like.

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life

Warnings: Extreme sweetness, overwhelming love, excessive boyfriend material moments.

Jake had always been effortlessly charming. The kind of boyfriend who made your heart race even after months of being together. He was sunshine on a rainy day, laughter in the middle of a dull afternoon, and warmth in the middle of winter. But tonight—tonight was something else entirely.

You knew Jake was up to something when he had sent a vague text earlier in the day: Wear something nice. I have a surprise for you.

And now, standing in the middle of a breathtakingly decorated rooftop, you felt your heart swell. Fairy lights twinkled above like fallen stars, casting a golden glow over the intimate setup—pillows, a candlelit table, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers waiting at the center. Soft music played from a speaker nearby, blending perfectly with the distant hum of the city below.

Jake stood at the entrance, hands in his pockets, grinning at you with that boyish charm that never failed to make you weak.

"So?" He opened his arms wide, eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Do I get boyfriend points for this?"

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Jake, this is—this is beautiful. Did you do all of this?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, his dimples deepening. "Well, I may have had some help setting up, but the idea? All me." He took a step closer, reaching for your hand. "I just… wanted to make tonight special."

You squeezed his fingers, feeling the rush of love swell inside you. "Every moment with you is special."

Jake’s expression softened, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Yeah, but I wanted to do more. You make me so happy, and I just—I wanted to give you something back."

Before you could say anything, he stepped aside, revealing a bouquet of fresh white lilies resting on the table. He picked them up carefully and turned back to you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

"These are for you," he murmured, holding them out. "I remember you said white lilies remind you of happiness, so I thought… maybe they could remind you of tonight, too."

Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. Taking the flowers gently from his hands, you inhaled their sweet scent before looking up at him, eyes brimming with affection. "Jake, this is perfect."

The evening unfolded like a dream. Over candlelit dinner, Jake made you laugh until your sides hurt, telling you stories from his childhood, complete with exaggerated impressions of his younger self. He reached across the table every so often, stealing little touches—brushing your knuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, playing with your bracelet absentmindedly. He was hopelessly in love, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

At one point, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through a playlist. "Okay, hear me out—one dance. Just one."

You raised a brow, amused. "Jake, we’re on a rooftop."

"Exactly! Perfect setting for a movie moment." He wiggled his brows before holding his hand out. "Please? For me?"

With a dramatic sigh, you placed your hand in his, letting him pull you up. The soft melody of a love song surrounded you as Jake guided you into a slow dance, his arms wrapping securely around your waist.

"See?" he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. "Perfect."

You let yourself melt into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love it."

"Unfortunately, I do."

Jake chuckled before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His expression turned serious, his gaze filled with something deeper.

"I love you." His voice was steady, sincere, leaving no room for doubt. "Like, really love you. The kind where I think about you first thing in the morning, where every little thing reminds me of you, where I just—" He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "I don’t know how to be without you anymore."

Your heart clenched, warmth spreading through your chest. "Jake…"

"I know we always say it," he continued, his fingers tightening around yours, "but I wanted to tell you properly. Not just in passing, not just because it’s routine. I wanted you to hear it, to feel it."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the warmth of his cheeks. "I feel it, Jake. Every single day."

A soft smile tugged at his lips before he leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss against yours. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—it was simply filled with love. Pure, undeniable love.

When you pulled away, he grinned, dimples on full display. "So… do I get boyfriend points now?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Jake, you just won the entire game."

Later that night, after the candles had burned low and the stars above shone even brighter, Jake pulled you into his arms on a cozy blanket laid out on the rooftop. The city lights twinkled around you, but all you could focus on was him.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked, playing with your fingers as if memorizing every line, every detail.

You smiled at the memory. "Of course. You almost ran into me at the campus café because you were too busy talking about football."

Jake groaned, burying his face against your shoulder. "Ugh, don’t remind me. That was not my smoothest moment."

"And yet, I still fell for you." You nudged him lightly. "Guess you did something right."

He looked at you then, eyes soft, voice even softer. "I think I just got really lucky."

Silence stretched between you, but it was the comfortable kind. The kind where words weren’t necessary because everything was already understood.

Then Jake spoke again, quieter this time. "I used to think love was just something that happened in movies. That it was all grand gestures and dramatic moments. But then I met you… and I realized it’s in the little things, too. Like waiting for me after practice, or laughing at my dumb jokes, or knowing exactly what to say when I’m stressed. Love isn’t just fireworks—it’s every second, every little moment, with you."

Your throat tightened, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of his words. You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. "I love you, Jake. So much."

He smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead. "I love you more."

And as he held you under the stars, you knew—this was love in its purest form. No need for grand gestures, no need for perfect moments. Just you, Jake, and the quiet promise of forever.

[woozinhos]

heyy can i request thigh riding with dino pleaseeee?

Notes: gang I’m getting back into it oh yea hehe enjoy!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Chan and you are alone in his bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed, and you straddle his lap. His hands instinctively grip your hips as you press yourself against him.

"You look so beautiful right now," he says, his voice low and gravelly. You lean in and capture his lips in a heated kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs against your lips. He breaks the kiss and begins to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin. You arch your back, pressing yourself even closer to him.

"I want you so badly," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. You can feel his erection pressing against you through his jeans, and you grind down against him, eliciting a low moan from his lips.

"Fuck," he growls, his hands tightening on your hips as he guides your movements. Chan pulls back to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I have an idea," he says, his voice dripping with seduction. He pushes you off his lap and onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He looks down at you with a smirk, his hands roaming over your body.

"I want you to ride my thigh," he says, his voice low and commanding. You shiver at his words, your body already responding to his command. You hook your legs around his waist and begin to grind against his thigh, seeking friction and relief. Chan watches you with darkened eyes, his hands tracing patterns on your skin. "That's it," he murmurs. "Just like that." You can feel yourself getting more and more aroused as you move against him, the pressure of his thigh sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"You're so needy," he says, his voice rough with desire. "I love seeing you like this." Chan's hands move to your hips, guiding your movements and holding you steady as you continue to ride his thigh. His eyes never leave yours, his gaze burning with lust.

"You're so beautiful when you're desperate," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could watch you like this all night." As you continue to grind against his thigh, Chan's hands move to your chest, gently massaging your breasts. He can feel your heartbeat racing beneath his touch, and it only makes him want you more.

"You're so sensitive," he murmurs, his fingers teasing your nipples.

"Please," you moan, your voice barely audible. "I need more." Chan smirks at your plea, enjoying the way you're completely at his mercy. "You'll cum when I say you can," he says firmly. "For now, keep going. Show me how much you want it."Chan watches as you increase the pace of your movements, your moans filling the room. He can feel your wetness seeping through his jeans, and it only fuels his desire for you.

"That's it," he says, his voice strained. "Keep going, baby. You're so close."

"Please," you repeat, your voice trembling with need. "I can't hold back much longer." Chan can see the desperation in your eyes, and he knows you're teetering on the edge. He reaches down to grip your hips, holding you in place as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

"Then let go," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Cum for me." You throw your head back and cry out as the pleasure overwhelms you, your body shuddering against his thigh. Chan holds you tightly as you ride out your orgasm, whispering words of encouragement in your ear.

"That's it, baby. You're so good for me. So beautiful when you cum." Chan looks down at the damp spot on his jeans, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "You made a mess," he says, his eyes meeting yours. Chan leans in to kiss you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as he tastes the remnants of your orgasm. He breaks the kiss and looks at you with darkened eyes.

"Now it's my turn," he says, his voice a promise.

[heretical-cogitations]

Help! My serf smells like the armoury and it's making me have heretical thoughts. Part 2

Word count: ~870

Part 1

A/N - I was really struggling trying to write this to work for any space marine but don't think I have the skill. Wanted to give writing in 2nd person a go as well. So it morphed into :

Titus x reader

Probs ooc but fuck it we ball.

Already have ideas for a final part....

As the door closed behind him you were left in shock, what just happened. 

Smoothing out your robe; you pick up the piece of armour you had neglected when you were distracted by your Lords ...presence.

Cleaning the filthy ceramite your mind is filled with thoughts of him; worried you had upset him but despite your concern you recall to how he looked in that tiny, flimsy loin cloth, you were certain you could easily rip it off with you tee— BY THE EMPEROR STOP.

Covering your face with your hands, guilt and shame set deep into every atom of your being.

How could you be so disrespectful, he had treated you so well, been so kind and in no uncertain terms made your life considerably better than it would've been otherwise.

You scold yourself again, annoyed at yourself for objectifying one of the emperor’s chosen, especially one so chivalrous and caring.

You looked at the spotless armour you had haphazardly lugged towards a corner of the room, proud of how the ceramite was now gleaming despite arguing with yourself the entire time, it now taking up as little of the communal space as it could.

The only piece missing is his helm currently placed near your feet, it had suffered quite a lot in this last deployment and needed more than a good scrub to get it back to its true glory. So, you have graciously taken it upon yourself to polish and repaint his helm.

You definitely weren’t going to use this as a peace offering to your lord or as a distraction from your inappropriate day dreaming.

Your gaze lands on the gauntlets, the sheer size making you blush, you need to get out of this room. Picking up his helm you scurry out, hoping the walk to his chamber would clear your mind or if that didn't the helm maintenance would. 

He couldn’t be in there any longer, it was too much, he needed to get to the bottom of this now. Titus, newly appointed captain of the 2nd company, was mortified at his lack of self-control; he is a mighty astartes and yet one smell has him splitting at the seams.

His mind wanders has he walks heavy footed through the ship’s corridors, before he finds himself at the armoury, making his way in, it’s quiet. The rooms usual smell almost completely absent, something usually so strong barely present now. He decides to search around to investigate what might produce such a smell, hoping to find why it made him react the way it did. His search is cut short as he hears the distinct armoured footfall of the chapter master.

“Titus.”  

Titus turns to face him saluting, “Chapter master.”  Calgar smiles and raises a brow “At ease lad, you look concerned is something bothering you?”  Titus breaks eye contact with his superior shifting on his feet appearing almost meek in front of him. “Well… I am concerned about my behaviour towards my serf earlier, it is hard to explain I apologise, but I felt overwhelming urges to touch them in less than appropriate ways.” He hangs his head low expecting to be reprimanded for acting in such a debased way, but such rebuke never comes instead Calgar stifles a laugh. His gauntlet clapped Titus on the shoulder knocking him forward with the force. “I'm sorry Titus, I shouldn't laugh, this issue is quite common amongst our battle brothers. As we astartes age we can rekindle some of our, let's say, baseline urges. Though you are on the younger side for this to occur.”  Calgar’s chuckle tapers out, smile still lingering on his face.

“I was looking for what I suspected to be the catalyst but have had no luck.” Huffing as he speaks, almost sulking. “What did you expect to find in the armoury, Titus?” Calgar said still smirking, almost as if he knew the answer. “The smell, that caused all of this” Titus admits.

“Ah, so you are unaware of the predicament here in the armoury…” Calgar leans closer to him, voice dropping to a whisper no baseline could hear. “What you smell when you don your battle plate is baseline arousal, Titus. Of those who know, we each have our own interpretation as to why armouring serfs react in the way they do when dressing us, but one thing we all agree is that this is kept close to our chest and only shared on a need-to-know basis.” Calgar leans back smiling again teasing Titus. “And this seems to be one of those situations”. Calgar turns towards the door “I hope will keep this secret as well as the rest of us.” He says chuckling as he walks out of the room. Titus is left blushed red and gaping at the grey-haired space marine as he takes his leave.

Once the shock of the revelation settled, he couldn't contain the smile that split his features, his little serf finds him attractive.

His little serf returns his feelings.

No matter how much he tries to temper it he cannot control his giddiness. The other implications of the situation flying far above his head in this moment.

He must return to them now.

[berryeemmy]

hello!! can you make a fic for overwhelmedreader! at a party with Rafe? where she's anxious and Rafe reassures that he'll her home while Kelce and Topper tease him. But he still soothes her and takes her home even though she feels guilty!!

you can do whatever this is just a small idea, thank you❤️❤️ i love your blog!

Oh my goodness yes!! I am so happy your like my first real ask!!! I hope you like it! Thank you so much love💕

The music was too loud, the air was too thick with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Bodies of people you didn’t even know were pushing and shoving you by accident. All the colors from the lights along with the shouting was just too much for you to handle.

The only reason you even came to this stupid party was because Rafe asked you too. No begged you too. Or maybe it was because, for once, you wanted to fit into his world of adventure and wild parties. But now, standing in the corner with your arms wrapped around yourself tightly while Rafe went to go get a drink with Top and Kelce, you felt like you were suffocating.

Rafe and the guys had been walking back to you from getting another beer in the kitchen, when Rafe saw the familiar look on your face. The look you got when you were overwhelmed. Originally he was laughing with Topper about something funny he said, but once he saw that look. It all came to a halt.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice cut through the noise, distracting you for a moment. He put his hands on your waist, his touch comforting.

“You okay?” He asks so only you could hear.

You shake your head biting down on your lip softly.

“Baby what’s wrong. You gotta tell me what’s wrong.” He says, his voice softer then ever before.

You swallowed hard, “j-just wanna go h-home..” you whisper on the verge of tears.

Rafe’s expression quickly changed to one of worry.

“Hey hey hey, there’s no need to cry baby its okay, i’ll take you home. My girl just feeling overwhelmed yeah?” He says quickly. He didn’t wanna question it. That was for later.

You nod quickly as a tear falls down you cheek, mascara running along with it.

And that’s when Topper and Kelce decided they want to make their appearance known again.

“Dude, you’re leaving already?” Kelce scoffed.

Topper rolled his eyes and slightly nudged Rafe on the shoulder. “Man you’re pussy whipped.”

Rafe scoffed, just like Kelce. “Leave me alone. My girl tells me she wants to go home we’re going home okay?” He says his voice sharp like a knife. And with that, Rafe’s already guiding you out of the house and into the front yard, where he had parked his truck earlier.

As he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat, a wave of guilt hits you.

Rafe gets into the driver side, when he notices more tears falling down your face.

“Baby why you still crying huh? Its okay, your safe in the car now.” He says while leaning over to cup your cheek softly.

“I feel bad, you were obviously having a good time a-and i just ruined it.” You sniffle.

“Pretty girl, you didn’t ruin anything. I don’t care about Topper and Kelce, or having fun. I care about you. My baby. Not anything else, mkay?” He says firmly but still somehow gentle.

You couldn’t help but feel relief, like a weight had been taken off your shoulders as he said those words. So you nodded “okay..” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby, now lets go home.” He muttered giving you a quick kiss.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Boyfriend Hitoshi Shinsou Takes Care Of You | Hitoshi x Y/N

Just...bear with me for a second...

Picture Pro Hero Hitoshi taking care of you after a long day.

You get home, you're exhausted. The office was brutal today - so many emails to respond to and crises to solve. You know your boyfriend Hitoshi is out there saving actual lives so you feel bad complaining to him over text.

When he doesn't hear from you all day, he starts to get worried. After work, he immediately heads over to your apartment to check in on you and make sure that everything's alright. What he finds is a burnt out mess. You're laying on your couch absolutely wiped - too exhausted to cook or change out of your work clothes.

"Oh. Baby." He says with a sigh, locking the door behind him. He slides off his shoes and walks to your side at the couch, crouching to look you in the eyes. You're so tired and you're crying, just generally overwhelmed by life. He sighs as he runs a hand softly across your scalp the way you like it, letting his fingertips linger delicately behind your ears. "Why didn't you tell me things were this bad?"

"D-didn't want to bother you." You manage to hiccup out.

"Baby. You're never bothering me. Ever." Hitoshi looks around the apartment for a moment, getting his bearings. "Hold on, I'll be right back." You whimper, not wanting him to leave. "I swear, babe. I'll be two minutes." You hear the gentle padding of his feet as he disappears into your bedroom.

A minute later, he emerges holding a comfy pair of sweatpants and your favorite band t-shirt. He places the bundle of clothes on the couch next to you and reaches to start undoing your blouse. There's nothing sexual about his touch as he gently undoes the buttons and lifts the sleeves off of your arms. He reaches behind you and undoes your bra as well, your breasts spilling out into the warm air of the apartment. Most days, he would cover your chest with kisses and spend as much time as possible kneading and sucking at your breasts. Unfortunately, this isn't one of those carefree sexy times. Instead, he lifts your arms up and helps you pull on the comfy t-shirt. The well-loved fabric instantly makes you feel safe. Next, he helps you unbutton your tight work slacks so that he can slide them off of your legs. A moment later, you're in your sweatpants and snug as a bug.

He drapes your favorite plush floral blanket around you and grabs the remote so that he can put on a favorite kids movie - something you won't need to think a lot about. He settles on Lilo & Stitch. He readjusts the blanket around you and leans down to kiss your forehead before making his way to your hamper to dispose of your work clothes.

You sigh comfortably as you settle into the blanket, wiping the tears away from your eyes. Your embarrassed that you get this way sometimes - overwhelmed by the tasks of the workday, by the state of the world. Hitoshi is always your anchor during these times - stepping up to help keep you grounded and safe.

It doesn't take long for the cushion next to you to sink a few inches when Hitoshi takes his usual place on the couch. You're happy to see he's grabbed his spare pajamas from your room - a dark purple thermal shirt and matching checked pajama pants. He's wearing a pair of thick grey socks that your grandma knitted him for Christmas last year, and he's got one of your claw clips holding back his wild violet hair (it's the hot pink one that says "Bimbo"). God, you love this man. He looks absolutely cozy.

"I just ordered your favorite pizza - it'll be here in twenty minutes." He says, absentmindedly focused on the movie as he tosses an arm around you to pull you close. You feel the strong flex of his Pro Hero bicep around you. You sniffle, he's just so sweet. He looks down at you, concerned. "Want me to get some tissues or a washcloth for your face?"

"No, no. I'm alright. You're just so good to me. I know you've probably had a hard day, too. I don't want you to feel like you always need to take care of me, 'Toshi." You say, your tone tinged with guilt.

"Baby, listen to me - I take care of you because I love you. You're never a burden to me. I know how hard things can get sometimes, and I want you to know that I'll always be here for you to help figure everything out. You've helped me through plenty of hard days, too. Let me return the favor." He starts to smooth his hand through your hair once more, and you feel your eye lids droop at the gentle touch. You know that he's right - you've helped him through bad mental days as well. You're partners - you support each other however possible. You show up for each other.

He knows exactly how to scritch your scalp to make you fall asleep. You feel yourself drifting - cozy and warm in his arms as he cards his fingers through your hair.

"Can I nap for a bit?" You ask quietly as Hawaiin Rollercoaster Ride plays in the background.

"Of course. Whatever you need, baby." He presses another soft kiss to your head and you let yourself drop off into a light sleep.

"Love you 'Toshi."

"Love you, babe."

-----

End.

[telepathiez]

benji’s breath hitched softly the moment ethan’s arms wrapped around his waist, warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt as lips pressed gently against his neck. his fingers tensed against the sink, his heart knocking unevenly against his ribs. he wasn’t used to this—to praise, to touch that wasn’t rough or fleeting. his body felt tense, like he was waiting for the warmth to vanish. but it didn’t. ethan settled beside him, close but not overwhelming. benji’s fingers curled against his thighs as his gaze flickered to the notepad, feeling his ears grow hot once again. benji’s lips parted, but the words felt caught in his throat and he averted his gaze. “i—” he hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s not just that.” benji sighed softly, shifting in his seat. “i don’t care that they leave. i know what this is. it doesn’t matter to me.” the words were automatic, rehearsed, but even he could hear the hollowness in them. his fingers curled tighter against his thighs. “but…” he exhaled, jaw clenching for a brief second before he forced himself to say it. “i don’t feel anything. not really. not when they touch me, not when they leave. i’m just… numb to it.” his voice was flat, almost detached, but the weight of it pressed against his ribs, heavy and suffocating. “i go through the motions, i do what’s expected, and it’s fine. it’s always fine.” he huffed a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “but then you come in and ask me what i need, like that even matters. like i should even be thinking about that.” he pressed his lips into a thin line before he looked away. “i don’t know what to do with that, ethan. i don’t know how to want something when i’ve spent so long convincing myself i don’t.”

benji remained quiet, his hands folded in his lap as he watched ethan move around the kitchen with ease. he wasn’t used to this—someone taking the time to care for him in such a simple yet intimate way. the scent of warm food filled the place, wrapping around him like something soft, something safe. his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh before he finally whispered, “thank you.” his gaze met ethan’s and for a moment, he felt vulnerable in a way he couldn’t quite point out. ethan wasn’t just feeding him. he saw him, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that. he waited until he was alone before reaching for the plate, his stomach twisting with an unfamiliar kind of warmth. he ate slowly, savoring the comfort that came with every bite, the quiet understanding behind the gesture. by the time he was done, his chest felt a little lighter, but his hands still hesitated over the notepad sitting in front of him.

he pressed his lips into a firm line, gripping the pen between his fingers as he tried to find the words. it felt shameful, putting it into writing—his needs, his wants, the things that had been neglected for so long he barely let himself acknowledge them. they always leave right after. they never stay. they never… finish what they start. and i just have to sit with it. wait for it to go away. for once, it would be nice if they weren’t selfish. he exhaled sharply, his ears burning, his chest tight with something dangerously close to humiliation. setting the pen aside, he forced himself to move, to distract himself. he picked up his empty plate and glass, taking them to the sink to give them a rinse.

[herewithinthevoid]

𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖑𝖞 𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖉

𖹭

uncensored artwork of moth shigaraki and my oc lyssa by Abysmal0 on my bluesky and twitter