#shy answers

[shytastemakerthing]

helloou if possible i would like to request headcanons for vil schoenheit with a mc fem who has a hard time pronouncing his last name "schonheit", she hid this at first until she decided it was better to ask his for help on how to pronounce it even though it embarrasses her~ (based on In real events, this anon still has a hard time pronouncing that German last name ;u;) thank yuu <33

Heyo! Thank you for your request! I also still have a rather difficult time trying to pronounce Vil's last name even after hearing it so many times!

Tw: None

Prompt: Fem!reader who has a hard time trying to say Vil's last name

A/N: Requests are open!!

You are not the first person who has a hard time trying to pronounce Vil's last name and you certainly won't be the last.... he's used to it, to be honest.

No matter how many times you tried to practice his name, it just didn't sound right. It didn't sound like the right pronunciation, it didn't sound like others who knew how to say his name.

You practiced in the shower, in the mirror, when you were doing schoolwork, any available time that you had, you were practicing on how to say this man's name!

The only thing you have yet to do is ask him directly!

But that is the one thing you are trying to avoid for as long as possible. If other people are able to say his name so can you......

.........No you can't.

All the hours you spent practicing, the absolute butchering of his name despite said hours of practicing, nothing felt worse than finally confronting Vil during a conjoined moment where the both of you had time to yourselves.

And when you finally asked?

He had his own question, why wait this long before coming to him? Because let's face it, he already knew you had a hard time trying to say his last name, and he knew that you had been practicing trying to get it right.

He won't say how he knows (Rook) but he is glad that you finally came to him.

By the time you leave Pomefiore, you will know how to say his name to perfection, anything less would not reflect kindly upon him in teaching you his own name.

There had been so much that you had been through since arriving at NRC, but none of that amounted to the sheer dread and disdain that you felt as you managed to finally make it through the mirror that would lead you to Pomefiore.

You had spent hours.... weeks, even practicing over and over and over again, but no matter the effort, no matter how hard you tried, you could never get his damn name right.

By sheer luck, Vil had a moment to himself, a small window of free time and a small window of opportunity for you to finally ask him the one thing you were trying to avoid, and he seemed quick to notice your presence within his dorm, he always had. He would never outright admit it but he kept a closer eye on you than many others. After all, dating someone like him, he wanted to make sure that you were alright at all times. He could handle the comments that would come his way, and he would do what he could to shield them from you.

A smile was on that perfect face of his, allowing you into his room before his attention was to you.

"Now, what have I told you about the frowning? You're going to give yourself early wrinkles." Those soft hands of his gently tapped under your chin, in hopes of lifting said frown, oh, but it wouldn't budge, not with what you were about to ask him.

"Vil, I need to ask you something." It was more of a demand that left your mouth, and the slight curves of a smile came to his own.

Oh......

OH......

"About how to pronounce my last name? Before you ask, it was quite simple. Whenever you would go to call me Housewarden, you would pause when it came to my last name, among..... other sources. You are not the first person to not know how and you certainly won't be the last. Now, take a seat. By the time you leave, you are going to be able to say the Shoenheit name better than anyone else."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twst vil #vil schoenheit #vil x fem!reader #vil schoenheit x fem!reader #vil schoenheit x reader #shy answers #shy writes

[prettyflyshyguy]

Do you have any idea how uh, Leon's face mandibles work? Like what's the skeleton looks like and how do they attach and what's their range of motion and what not

I'm not going to lie to you Anon I put such little effort into the anatomy side of this I went 100% into it ride or die on "rule of cool" as the kids say

So you have to carry around like, a resturaunt wholesale bag of salt when looking at them because I'm sure there's a million reasons why they "shouldnt work" but fuck it, its Resident Evil, we have fun

I do want to sit down and for fun, try and brain out the muscles one day but not today. (I am so, so tired)

Everything comes back to the original DNA

with C Virus Leon he's pretty much the same as the predator in design basis. The upper ones connect somewhere (I use his hair to hide where!! Because I am a fake and a fraud) around his cheekbones along the upper jaw

Bottom ones sit comfortably along lower jaw. They both split away from the main face tissue early and more jut out like fingers, as opposed to an extension of the mouth in the Predator's case. They have roughly the same bone structure as fingers, just with different directions in the bends. I typically try and keep it the same each time but since I havent actually nailed down anything yet it always shifts a little.

This is incredibly outdated and very much not anatomically incorrect, but I made this ages ago for a mini tutorial

Range of motion I have a very solid idea of! After hours of thinking about this. Oops. Top and bottom tend to sit outwards from the face, and if he were to spread them out far they'd go like, a fair way out, but couldnt sit perpendicular to his face, they cant bend that far. They can droop down fairly low on the top, on the bottom they can hang below his chin but he has to force it if he wants them to droop too low. Like how you can pull your fingers further than move them by their own muscles. Individually they can all stretch fairly straight, the top ones can pull in pretty tight against themselves like, in a z formation, the bottom ones cant as much.

#as much as I love things that justifiably work I decided on the design before I decided on if it could work #because I was too busy worrying about if I could #that I never stopped to think about if I SHOULD #shy answers #c virus au #enjoy my exhausted blabbering I am very tired but I still love my precious boy

[shyacinth]

the photo of the eclipse with the giant sun flares is AI generated

fkn it saying """picture taken""" too, how shitty

#i added a tag to it #shy answers

[erwinsvow]

shy reader sending rafe nudes for the first time🫢

rafe was so nice to you. his new favorite hobby seemed to be spoiling you—it seemed there was an endless influx of shopping trips and things getting delivered to your house after being mentioned once. you don't know how he always got it right, the exact color you wanted or the perfect size. especially when you weren't even sure which style was the best or were having trouble picking between two. rafe would decide for you, usually picking right or just ending up buying both.

he was very good at this whole thing, and though you had trouble accepting his genoursity at first, you felt you were growing into it quite nicely.

the constant denial that you wanted something turned into a sweet, grateful smile when rafe offered to get it. worrying about how expensive something was long-forgotten, instead you gave rafe a kiss on the cheek instead of mentioning it.

and the best part was that he liked it, liked taking care of you, liked making sure you had the things you wanted. he'd even gotten a shiny silver credit card with his name on it, had insisted that you use it for things.

"what kinda man am i, huh? if my girl has to buy herself nice things. that's no way to treat your best girl, huh?"

mostly he just wanted to hear you call yourself his girl, but it was getting easier and easier to swipe it out and about.

you fell into the trap of the saleswoman at the lingerie store—you'd come once before to buy some nighties when you started sleeping over at tannyhill every single night. you'd handed her the silver card, thinking about what rafe had in store for you if you showed up wearing what you'd just bought, when she snapped you out of it

"is that all for today mrs. cameron?"

she'd transported you into a completely different spiral. so you had returned with a craving to hear yourself be called that again, buying anything and everything that caught your eye, but mostly things that you thought rafe would like.

on your way out, still elated from the sheer headrush of being called mrs. cameron, you don't even notice the missed call and texts from rafe, not until you get home and put on the first of many new outfits.

rafey: what the hell is la perla. the fuck did you buy for $500??

dolled up in your new outfit, you angle yourself to snap a couple of pictures with your phone, the first showing your tits spilling out of the pretty, floral bra and panty set. then you laid down, trying to capture your ass and the best arch you could manage without rafe there to push your back for you. trying on another thing you'd bought, this time a pretty white babydoll, you take a selfie showing just enough of the fabric.

sending the photos without any caption, you wait patiently for the response. but seconds turn into minutes, minutes into ten and twenty, while you wonder if you overstepped, if rafe was displeased at your purchases, at the waste of money.

rafe opens the door so hard it slams, and you flinch.

"get on the bed. now." like always, you comply. you guess he wasn't so mad after all.

#not proofread #i barely answered your prompt im so sorry #i hope you like it #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

[miguelswifey04]

Miguel and his shy wife softly making out? Fluffy?

oh my god yes 😩

miguel o’hara x shy! wife! reader

as miguel and his you, his shy wife find yourselves alone, your lips delicately meet in a tender kiss. your bodies pressed together, the intimacy between you grows with each passing moment. miguel wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, his hands gently exploring your curves, as if memorizing every inch of your body.

your kisses deepen, becoming more passionate as your desire for each other intensifies. miguel’s tongue glides along his your lips, seeking entrance, and you willingly grant him access. your tongues dance in a slow and sensual rhythm, exploring and teasing.

miguel's hands roam further, cupping your face in his palms before trailing down to caress the curves of your body again. his touch is gentle, reverent, as if wanting to appreciate every part of you. you continue to kiss, your bodies gravitating closer, losing yourselves in the intoxicating sensation.

the air around you is filled with soft gasps and the sound of your lips meeting. your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him even closer as you share this intimate moment. your bodies sway with an unspoken desire, the world around you fading away as you get lost in each other's embrace.

as you break your kiss, your eyes meet, the love and longing evident in their gaze. miguel softly brushes a strand of hair behind his your ear, his voice filled with adoration. "eres tan hermosa, mi amor…i cherish these moments with you. te amo," he whispers, his words a testament to their deep connection.

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @emiemiemiii @astro1bloom @obi-mom-kenobi @sabcandoit @meeom

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #🌱 lin writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #lin’s asks #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x wife!reader #miguel o’hara x shy! wife #atsv miguel #miguel fluff #miguel o hara #miguelohara #miguel o’hara x female reader

[canisalbus]

Me? I am machete ear fan number 1. Those ears probably would be fun to fiddle with and scratch. Short periods tho, I dunno if M would get overstimmed easily

Time to get overstimmed.

#answered #sleep-being-shy #own characters #Machete #comics #I'm not sure if it's an overstimulation issue I think he just doesn't like to be touched in general #big fan of personal space

[simonrillleyyysss]

i’m sorry if this is an annoying ask bc i’ve seem a lot of shy!readers on here…but can we get… ehm ehm.. shy femreader with graves?! AH i’m sorry lolz i need him actually

ofc!! don’t think it’s annoying baby💞💞

fem reader

he loves how ‘submissive’ you are—in a sense, he likes how shy you are!! and embraces it!! philip helps you come to terms with your meekness, you’re out in public?? don’t worry, don’t gotta talk or nothin’, just be pretty! be you, don’t change cause he wants ya’ to talk.

graves is a confident man, obviously, cocky and not afraid of anything—you? you’re timid, you’re hanging to his side as he walks around the mall, letting you whisper into his shoulder softly; his hand gently kneading at your hip.

‘ya’wanna get anything, sugar?’

‘no..’

‘ah, m’still gon’ get you something, yeah?’

although he likes your shyness, he doesn’t hesitate to get you out of your comfort zone—he makes you talk in stores when you’re confident enough, he lets you speak for yourself at small gatherings and conversations, he knows you’re a big girl.

total himbo for you, your shy but he’s head over heels—dumb and at your order and command; lapdog!!

doesn’t let anyone say anything even slightly antagonistic , their head will be on a spike

you hate when he kisses your neck in public with his hands groping your ass, just after coming out of the bar, pressed against the bustling bars alley wall—nipping at your neck! he knows ur embarrassed:(( it’s okay!! let him help you embrace your voice, baby, don’t be shy to be loud when he’s scissoring his long fingers in your tight cunt!!

he has a huge thing for listening to ur sounds, he knows your shy, everyone does. so let him bring your real voice out, let him make you scream bloody murder while he slams you along his thick cock, don’t be afraid t’be loud, honey!

huge thing for exhibitionism, let him fuck you in bathroom stalls while you’re both at a party, let him make you speak up and beg for more!! speak up, what did you say?

‘ya’ won’t get what you want till yask’ nicely, pretty girl.’

‘ppphhhillll—cummin-cumming!’

love him kkdkdkdfkdssk

#i love philip graves #phillip graves cod #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #phillip graves #philip graves smut #philip graves #philip graves x reader #graves x you #cod graves #graves x reader #i need graves #graves smut #graves x female reader #🎀>philip graves #🎀>graves x shy!rdr #⠀ 🎀 ⊹︵︵︵ ⊹ ୨୧ ⊹ ︵︵︵ ⊹ 🎀 #💞} requests open! #💞} anon answer!

[iwasbored777]

I think Branch has abandonment issues because of everything he went through and Poppy knows this.

Yes, both are true and I HAVE to talk about Poppy's behaviour in Trolls Band Together more cuz she doesn't get enough appreciation for her character development and for how much she loves her boyfriend.

At the beginning of the movie she wants him to give his brothers a second chance because she wants him to be with his family. He's not happy about it at first but later he is and she's super happy because she thinks everything is perfect just like he thought.

Until it wasn't. When they both learn at the same time that his brothers don't want to see each other again after rescuing Floyd he leaves and she realizes that this means to him way more than it means to them so she doesn't waste time arguing with them (Branch already did that) and she goes with Branch. She loves him, she doesn't need her favourite boy band to reunite anymore, her priority is making her boyfriend happy again and that can only be accomplished by saving Floyd. But when she finds Branch again he is cold because he's hurt and he doesn't want her help because he thinks that she will abandon him too just like they did. I can only imagine how much it hurt her when he said that, she thought that he believes her that she loves him because she really does. She was already betrayed by a guy she cared about in the past (remember Creek? Ugh I hate him). But instead of focusing on her feelings she's focusing on his because he needs reassurance now more than she does. She trusts Branch, she loves him, she knows he loves her and she tells him that she's with him and reminds him that they've always been there for each other.

She even put his feelings before her sister, when she had to choose. No one's saying that she would never come back to find Viva after the mission is done but she came here to help Branch and that's what she's gonna do above all.

Yes, Branch is an amazing boyfriend, and I'm so thankful that the writers made him this way. I'm not saying that he doesn't deserve the praise he gets, he really does. But I'm saying that Poppy deserves more praise in general. She's so amazing and so underrated.

#I see too many people criticise her when the entire point of the first movie was both poppy and branch learning to find the balance & change #and their characters just keep developing in every movie as they go #which is so great #you can spot so much character development #i mean i know female characters don't get that much sympathy or approval and every fandom is like this #but that's why im here im not shy when i love something or someone and love her so much #trolls poppy #trolls branch #poppy #branch #broppy #trolls band together #trolls 3 #movie analysis #character analysis #ask and answer

[ronearoundblindly]

Your Dog, His Tricks

a Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader tale set a little over a year after losing their virginity together and based on this ask.

Summary: Injured on a mission and MIA for days, you return to a very high-strung boyfriend who can't express what he's feeling until it boils to the surface.

Warnings: arguments and smut. MINORS DNI. WC 5.4k

You don’t know when it started, this sort of competition with your boyfriend, but at some point you and Steve became a packaged deal. Unfortunately, that package was labeled: Steve Rogers and his girl. You feel nameless sometimes, and you know you are better than that; maybe you aren’t super like he is, but you are (and were since before dating) a whole-ass Avenger in your own right. You are a stellar agent. You can bring home the top prize. You can finish this shit-show of a mission all on your own.

No help.

None.

You noticed a problem after months and months of fighting with Steve—no, that sounds wrong—beside Steve. 

Okay, maybe it’s not wrong-wrong to say fighting with him because you two do have the occasional argument. Just one argument, really. One argument over and over again about you fighting beside him, why it’s fine, why he should let it go. You are as safe fighting beside him now as you were before the two of you became this set, this lop-sided partnership. He still wants to protect you from shit you are trained to protect yourself from, shit you survived just fine without him, shit like the last three days.

He’s stubborn, and so are you.

You’ve had trouble getting him to back off. The Team is a team, and Steve does great, delegating all sorts of jobs when you are one among many. As soon as it’s you and him alone? He’s…overly helpful, over-protective, and generally over-the-top fussy. He is adoring and caring and competent. Apparently, those things make him feel capable of doing everything for you. It’s sweet until it’s not. Every time you start a project—laundry, cooking, organizing shelves, or leading an actual mission—Steve waltzes in and has to finish it for you.

Because he loves you. Because he’s trying to help. Because he can.

It makes you feel as if you can’t, or, at least, as if he thinks you can’t.

“Well, buddy, you can’t have this one,” you mutter outside of HQ’s gate, gripping your side and flicking open the phone you stole a few states back.

You’ve been gone for just shy of seventy-three hours.

At first, you truly had no way to contact the Team. You were on your own a thousand miles from home, fried comms and a spent weapon. You missed the rendezvous at the safehouse because it took twenty or so hours to find a vet office with the supplies to patch yourself up, and by the time you could have reached out, that ear worm wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’ll swoop in.

He’ll save you.

You’re his girl, so you need him. You can’t handle this without him. No one will believe you did once he gets anywhere near you.

Call it adrenaline. Call it blood loss. Call it shock. You can’t give up this glory, so you told yourself you needed radio silence to keep the recovered intel secure until back on Avengers campus. You told yourself the risk of interception was too high to chance a phone call.

Now, fifty feet from the infirmary, you need to get past one more obstacle.

You know Steve would jump from a third-story window to get to you, know he would scoop you right up into his arms and carry you over the threshold, know that would mean Steve wins.

No. Not this time. This is yours. You deserve the credit. You are crossing that finish line solo.

You jab the last of the epi-pens into your good leg, letting yet more adrenaline heave through what little of your blood volume is left and call the HQ secure line from the burner.

“Friday,” you start, standing at the bus stop, a blindspot from the Avengers’ surveillance cameras because the city already monitors it, “authorization Gamma-Lima-Four-Whisky. Do not declare connection. I repeat, do not declare this connection.”

The AI welcomes you back onto the grid politely.

“Thank you.” A bubble of pain bursts in your throat. “Give them a different location for this call, ok? Tell them it’s from the nearest functional payphone.”

Friday does as you say because why wouldn’t she? It’s not as if Steve is going to pause to question where the ping is—

—and he’s already out, on the bike, pushing that engine to its acceleration limit and narrowly escaping a shoulder check from the slowly opening gates.

You sneak right past, knowing he won’t look in his rearview, not with his eye on a prize ten blocks away, and you collapse just inside the garage ramp.

You wake prone in the Regeneration Cradle after surgery to a kind, smiling nurse monitoring your progress.

It’s difficult to focus. After a few blinks, you can see her features clearly, then beyond her are just eyes.

His eyes.

Piercing blue doesn’t begin to describe the intensity of Steve’s gaze, and his silence is deafening.

Each quarter-minute he inventories the room, and he exhales. That is the sum total of what he can manage to do right now. He’s attempting to keep it together until you two are alone obviously. Steve fails at very few things in life; this is one of them. You can see the outline of his teeth through his tight cheek.

“Doc wanted me to tell you you did a great job,” the nurse states softly. “If you hadn’t packed those wounds so tight, you’d have died for sure.”

Your mouth is too dry to respond, so you flash a wry smile. No one gets the Cradle without…extensive injuries. You’ve never had the ‘pleasure,’ not even for your through-and-through last year.

Steve huffs in frustration, keeping his huge body out of the nurse’s way even when you can feel him try to astral project himself forward to hand you ice chips. Instead, you swallow cotton.

“Captain Rogers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimes from above, “your motorcycle has been cited for running five red lights with a further two dozen traffic violations. Shall I claim Official Avengers’ business?”

You croak ‘no.’ He says ‘yes.’

There’s a pause. “I will ask again later.”

Who says AIs can’t throw some serious shade?

Silence descends again as the spindling print needle moves on to a different wound. You’re lucid but wobbly trying to think, a combination of the waning anesthesia and pain meds.

If frowns could kill, your boyfriend’s would devastate the entire med bay.

This is what you hoped beyond hope to avoid, but it’s also why your endgame involved going solo.

“You’re making my point for me,” you sigh, your chest hurting more after surgery than it has in the past twenty-four hours. Clearly, your nerves are back online.

“And what point was that?“ he asks sarcastically, waiting in your own stubborn silence. “You gave me a heart attack.”

“Really?” You’re playfully shocked.

“No, not really! God.” He rushes closer. “What the hell were you thinking? If you had time to send me on a wild goose chase, you could damn well have called to tell me you were alive!”

The cradle’s lights shut off, job complete.

“Language, Steve.” 

He looks incredulous, engrossingly livid, anxious outrage contained by his one frayed thread of control left. 

“We found the intel,” he grits through a clenched jaw. “After power-washing your blood off it, everything was on the drive.”

You can’t sit up on your elbows yet, so you bite back, “good. It all worked out fine then.”

Wafting off him in thick clouds, Steve’s anger is near-flammable in the small room.

The nurse offers to step out for a second.

You say ‘yes.’ Steve barks ‘no.’

This isn’t the nurse’s first rodeo. “Alright, surgery went well. All debris and fragments removed. Your tissue is all intact now, too, but remember, this treatment doesn’t train new muscle fiber or nerve-endings.” She ignores Steve and pushes past to the other end of the table. “Rest up. Tomorrow, you can report to PT. They’ll work with you until you’re field-approved again.”

“She is not—“

“Both of you are ordered to rest,” the nurse snaps, nodding in Steve’s direction “—and make yourself useful by changing her drip when it runs out. If you can’t manage that, Captain, I will find a separate apartment or keep her here overnight.”

“No,” Steve breathes, visibly deflating. Like a scolded puppy, your boyfriend tucks his chin down, rings of grey settling beneath his dark sea eyes. It’s plain as day he hasn’t slept either.

The nurse calls for a wheelchair, and Steve dutifully helps you scoot off the table when it arrives. While he positions the IV to move in tandem, you attempt to push yourself by the huge rubber wheels and fail. Doc was not kidding about muscle weakness.

Steve says nothing.

You’re rolled back to your shared room by the grumpiest Captain America. 

He helps you dress in baggy, comfy clothes and silently reattaches the line of your drip. Not one touch is in a sexual, sensual, or even intimate way even though you are naked at some point.

You can’t remember what you expected; you’ve been so focused on completing the mission for so long. Did you want a desperate homecoming? Did you want him to grovel or worship at your feet? You think, at some point, you knew he’d push back, but you thought…maybe…he’d want you more.

Steve seems to turn his interest on and off so easily, which is great professionally but hard to read personally…or maybe you’re just struggling under the distracting hum of medication. It’s a white noise you can’t ignore, lulling you unconscious, so you can’t analyze the situation anymore. Maybe, you think, you try…but the thoughts don’t come.

He situates you on his side of the bed—to accommodate the cord and stand—and tucks himself quietly into the smallest corner of mattress that his bulk can fit on.

He falls asleep holding your hand. It’s the only place you two are connected. After nearly eighty-five hours apart, that’s still worth it. Maybe.

At some point, his hand goes limp and falls away.

Finally clear of mind, you keep watching Steve the next day. He doesn’t necessarily seem angry, and he doesn’t necessarily seem relieved either. He’s so robotic in his interactions. He won’t talk to you just at you. 

You understand why he was so standoffish last night, but you thought Steve would surely want you after that. You thought he’d start touching you again. 

You two waited so long for your first time, but after that, sex was relatively easy. Steve is an affectionate man when he’s allowed, when he’s in love, and you know he loves you.

Like the nurse said: all your tissue is fully healed. The only restrictions you have are in regards to field work, and the phantom jolts of pain—when you reach into a cabinet or take down a clothes hanger—aren’t real. 

Steve’s always an arm’s length away, just in case, meaning he is there to help you.

Always an arm’s length away.

No closer. No farther.

That afternoon you attempt to start talking about your mission, but that’s when he moves.

Steve practically sprints out the door with a half-baked excuse, so you go to physical therapy alone. You can go alone. That’s not the problem.

If you thought talking to Steve was difficult, you weren’t ready for how hard touching Steve would be.

You try to initiate even a cuddle that second night, and he jumps up claiming to have forgotten something somewhere else that he promised someone. Your boyfriend can’t lie worth beans. You don’t know why he tries.

You’re asleep before he returns.

The next night is exactly the opposite. You spend longer at the gym, slowly and painstakingly repeating every single exercise you know in order to streamline these new muscles. It’s an unholy pain in the ass, but you do it because you can—and will—get back in the field.

Even though the workout was mild, you’re awash with that runner’s high when you return to find Steve passed out already. He looks so peaceful, brow relaxed and lips gently parted. He also looks, well, good enough to eat, but you’ll start slow.

There was one time early on, before you two went all the way, that you woke him up by grinding on him in your sleep. You think now, perhaps, you can recreate that, catch him off-guard and dissipate some of this tension between you. This would be a good release. You don’t normally go this long. Obviously, Steve wouldn’t have masturbated while you were MIA and possibly dead, and every other second since has been accounted for.

He practically can’t have sex anywhere else except naked in a bed. He’s even told you, point blank, that he feels no need to touch himself since he has you. You are what he wants. That’s what he said.

Except he doesn’t wake up to your advances. He just rolls over like you’re disturbing him and softly snores.

For the first time, you wonder if you’ve really broken the two of you. How long will he be mad at you for doing your job? 

Steve rolls back over in his sleep, holding you close like nothing’s happened. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, but it’s enough and so, so wonderful to imagine all is well.

About a week into your ‘recovery’ (which is sorta bullshit since you can do everything the same by now just with an occasional, faint twinge, no more than the strain of every workout, ever), Steve takes Sam Wilson up on his offer of 1-on-1 basketball for a while. The Team—minus you—has a raid planned in the morning, and there’s always nervous energy to burn off in anticipation.

Your boyfriend has been a nightmare grump, but no one wants to take on the hassle of convincing Steve that he’s being too Steve to Steve properly. He still won’t talk to you about anything other than the weather, food, or daily schedules.

You’re even considering taking a break from field work because this all has become too much. If Steve is gonna shut down after every dangerous mission—which is, in fact, all of them—then maybe it’s not worth the risk. You’re good, you’re great, but you aren’t super.

“Taste of his own medicine, I say,” Bucky mutters, sitting beside you on the bleachers between courts.

“Huh?” You were distracted, watching Steve and Sam squeak across the floor.

Steve sinks a perfect layup and doesn’t gloat. Do-gooder.

“He used to get so mad when I’d find him in an alley all beaten up,” Buck continues. “Thought I was being too protective. I trusted him, but he was puny and he did get sick all the time. He could take a punch, sure, but every mark took weeks to heal. Half the time, they were still yellow when some idiot landed fresh ones.”

Steve claps beneath the net, encouraging Sam, focused on not outshining anyone.

He’s been the same with everyone else but you, and the whole Team can see it. You shouldn’t be surprised someone is finally talking about it; you simply wonder how Buck drew the short straw.

“Didn’t wanna be babied,” Bucky snorts, fondly glowering at his century-long bestie, “while low and behold, he pulls that stunt with everybody, every day.” 

“Yup,” you pop, looking at the matte metal beneath your feet, knowing there’s a line between the ‘caring’ version and the ‘coddling’ version. Steve nose-dived right over that line this time.

“What he appreciated, though, was consistency.” Bucky swivels his hair around into a bun and ties it. “Punk is dedicated, and even if it was just him--the hund’ed pound soaking-wet guy whose only real talent at that point was getting back on his feet--he knew he’d fight anyway.

“Bit hypocritical to be mad at his girl for doing the same, don’t ya think?” Bucky muses, clucking his tongue.

The brunette watches you bristle slightly at the moniker. His girl. Not only is it what got you into this mess, it feels untrue based on that big, broad, cold shoulder you’ve received from the man racing back and forth in front of you.

Smiling, Bucky nudges you with his elbow. “I’m excited for you to get back on your feet,” he adds.

You’re stuck thinking about that long after Bucky jumps into the game.

It’s no surprise then that when the doctor gives you the all-clear the very next morning, you’re over the moon and ready to strike. You don’t hesitate for a second when the alarm sounds less than an hour later.

The Team needs reinforcements. Your Team needs you.

You hustle into the back of a quinjet with a dozen agents. While the others file out to where the main conflict is raging, you sneak around the perimeter to suss out the mission goal, a treasure trove of enemy tech hidden somewhere in what was thought to be an abandoned village.

Not so abandoned if it’s lighting up like the pyrotechnics show on an action film set...

The explosions rattle the ground, yet you know the Team have breached the main chamber. Those enemy forces still fighting are distracting from a retreat. The other agents can catch them just fine. Your mission is intel recovery.

To keep your approach stealthy, you don’t announce your movements over comms, and Nat doesn’t scan back down the dark hallway you wedge into as she carries out an asset. If you weren’t so far back, you never would have seen him.

An enemy agent slinks out from behind a floor-to-ceiling tapestry right in front of you. His silhouette is short and thin; he’s built for stealth, too.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears as you follow, and that bastard gets close—so close—to Steve’s turned back that the pistol’s muzzle nearly touches.

Not this time. Not a chance. None.

You land a roundhouse kick to the exposed neck above his kevlar, and that sucker goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Steve turns around at the ready, stunned silent in the middle of his instructions to Bucky who is not visible from the other side heaped boxes. The papers still smoke where evidence was burned.

You salute at big, blue eyes. 

“On your six, Cap.” 

Steve looks at you, looks down at the man, and looks back up at you…pissed. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

What the fuck indeed…

All you did was help your team. All you did was stop Captain America from getting his head blown off. In no small fashion, all you did was save your boyfriend’s life.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

His grip on your arm is painful as he leads you all the way back to the jet himself, shoving you into the jump seat between other returned agents and shouting for you to 'stay right there.'

Bucky announces over comms that the rest is clean up. All but the specialized document interpretation and perimeter teams are moving out. 

Steve huffs, contemplates staying on a battlefield instead of going back with you, but decides to sit across the ship in silence again, fuming, making fists over and over in his fingerless leather gloves, bitterly sniffing as loud as possible the entire flight home. He refuses to answer a single person until the jet touches down at HQ. 

“Everyone off,” he bellows, “everyone except you.” 

You can’t stop it. Your hands fly up in exaggerated annoyance automatically.

“What do you want, Steve? I got the go-ahead this morning. I’m allowed to be here.”

“Stop doing that.” He rounds on you.

“Doing what? My job?!”

Chest puffed out, feathers ruffled, cheeks hot and red, Steve peels off his cowl. “Being insubordinate.”

“You’re not my superior officer,” you hiss, “we are equals, and if you think for one second I did anything wrong out there, go ahead and report me. From where I’m standing, I did the work, got cleared for duty, helped out the team, and stopped you from being shot.”

You poke a finger to his chest for each achievement listed.

“Fine," Steve shouts, crossing his arms, "but quit acting like a selfish coward.”

Them be fightin’ words. “A what?”

“You heard me,” he all but whispers.

It’s laughable, truly laughable how bad Steve is at hiding some of those wheels from turning in his head. This isn’t about today. This is the thing he buried the past week.

You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna throw a hissy fit every time I get a scratch—“

“THREE BULLETS IS NOT A SCRATCH.” He tries—he visibly, painfully tries—to keep his cool one last time. “You weren’t ready,” he concludes, judge, jury, and executioner all poured into one star-spangled package.

“Say’s who?” You’re stepping closer, getting in his face because this is bullshit and unfair. “Last time I checked you’re not a doctor, and you should be thanking me for saving your ass—“

“It’s not your job to save me.”

“We have the same job, Steve! We are both perfectly capable of—“

“I know that,” he barks, hot breath mingling with yours.

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to think I can handle myself.” You push weakly at his chest, taunting, like it's a game. “Maybe you need to walk it off, buddy.”

His face cracks, an avalanche unmoored from a stable mountain.

Oh shit. You’ve done it now.

“Walk it off?! WALK IT OFF?!”

Steve charges like a bull seeing red, crowding you against the far wall, his own derisive finger pointed at your heart.

“You were injured. You didn’t make contact. You went dark for days, and you could have died. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find you. No—“ he cups your chin in a tight pinch “—you want to talk about the job? It’s protocol to check in. It’s common courtesy to let me know you’re alive, and it’s goddamn rude to ignore your own safety.”

A dark, hazy sheen layers over his sharp gaze. “Don’t make me keep you home.”

There’s a deep line of frustration carved between his brows. His nostrils flair as he waits, daring you to refute him.

“Well—” you purse your lips in defiance “—isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

Steve lets go of you, smacked away by your cutting tone.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, whatever, Rogers,” you dismiss. “We both know you don’t have the authority to bench me.”

“Like hell I don’t,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and throwing your arms above your head, He weaves your hands through the cargo net behind you. The loops are tight and complicated in seconds, he’s so fast.

You can’t wriggle away.

“Let’s see how you like it.”

Steve roughly throws the zipper of your uniform down, letting the jacket hang open to show nothing but your sports bra.

“Feeling paralyzed—“ he dexterously undoes your belt “—exposed—“ your pants and underwear are yanked down to your ankles “—and afraid.” His last word thickens the air on the jet. 

How can this man launch you into unbridled lust in the space of two syllables?

Who. Fucking. Cares. How.

Steve’s fingertips teasingly glide over the swell of your breasts, brush down your belly, and tick their way in a casual walk between your legs. He retracts his touch the instant you let out a longing sigh, unable to restrain how needy you are. His fingers wander to perfectly clean and unmarked flesh…on your thigh, along one side, and a few inches below that. He’s tracing the bullet wounds he watched heal so quickly.

“Maybe I should leave you wondering how it’ll all play out?” he says absently, lost in thought, his thumb shifting to notch into the dip of your hip. “Maybe I should leave you wondering if we’ll ever—”

“Yes,” you whimper, no real idea what you’re saying. That’s not what answer you meant.

“How would you like three whole days of this feeling, huh? You think you’d fare any better than I did? Think you’d make it even five minutes?”

“Uh-uh.” Again, with no clue what you’re truly responding to, you buck your hips forward onto his long fingers.

The cords around your wrists get tighter while you struggle to set a pace. Behind you, the metal rings of the netting hit the hull with a soft clinking noise. 

“Not so fast.” Steve pulls his hand away just far enough to remove all friction. “Because three days, sweetheart, it was torture. Felt like an eternity right on the edge.”

“Please,” you beg.

One deliberate swipe of his fingers through your slick is enough to make you mewl.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Steve. Please, I need you.”

“Need me? You have an odd way of showing it, doll. You have to promise me—“ he thrusts his fingers in “—promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you,” you cry, convinced that it’s true for the sole reason: you never want to experience anything other than this Steve for as long as you live.

“You are so brave, and so…capable, and I know you can do anything, but you…can’t survive anything.” He takes excruciating pleasure in slow thrusts and teasing circles. “Promise me you won’t be so reckless. Promise, say it.”

“I promise.” Your weight sags into his ministrations, called to focus on nothing but where his hand disappears between you. “I promise I won’t be reckless.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your head falls limp against your tied arms. It sounds so good from his lips. Why did you ever doubt?

“I promise I’ll come back to you,” you manage out like a prayer.

“Yeah? That’s it. Is that what you want?”

“I promise. I promise, Steve.” You time your movements sloppily with his measured tempo. “Please, I need more.”

“I know. I know.” He’s strung out, too, listening to your pathetic whimpers after less than five minutes, exactly like he predicted.

You’re so over-wrought with desperation you can’t coordinate with his manhandling your legs apart—your knees, really, since your ankles are still caught in your pants. Instead of taking off your boots, Steve simply unzips himself and dives right into your wet, warm, and welcoming pussy.

Knowing he has a thing against anything naughty in his suits makes it sexier. You want his intensity—you’ve always been curious—and finally you have it: unhinged, untethered, super Steve Rogers. Your body makes room out of sheer joy.

“I know,” Steve coos, his face pressed to your chest as he adjusts. “Fuck, I know, honey.”

“Move, Steve.”

“No,” he says with a gentle kiss to your sternum. “You wanna come? Go ahead. You can do it all on your own. You can do anything you want, can’t ya?”

You groan in frustration.

You wanted this, an annoying voice in the muddled depths of your mind calls. You’re independent.

With a sob of both excitement and fury, your thighs weld onto that sturdy, I-beam beast. You brace your bent arms over your angled and hovering body, leveraging the cargo straps to hoist you up and down.

Your muscles burn, strained more than they were on your lone journey back to HQ.

Steve grunts and moans, the ghost of his wide spread palms beneath your back as a safety net.

“That’s it. That’s it, good girl.” 

Amidst your own noises, you can barely hear him. You’re not building to a climax, you’re falling into one at terminal velocity, flailing. Struggling to hang on and let go all at once, you do come, but it’s more of a plateau than a full release.

Steve’s unhappy and takes your ass in a bruising grip, finally pumping his thick length in and out, dragging the head of his cock across that perfect spot over and over.

“You can do better than that,” he snarls, hair wrecked and falling in his face.

Wave, undertow, and wave again, pleasures simply blend into the next. He gets handsy, keyed up and out of control, muttering “don’t you ever fucking leave me.”

You’d scold him for cursing if the air weren’t being punched from your lungs.

“Come on, sweetheart. Three for three.”

You’re almost disappointed he only wants you to come three times in payment for his days of torture. Even as a tear escapes the corner of your eye and your throat breaks in a hoarse “please,” you know you would give him more. You'd give him anything.

When you finally reach that shattering end, Steve is almost incoherently feral, one hand clamped at the back of your neck, the other anchored to the small of your back, slamming your ass to his leather-covered thighs like you are his mission.

“I promise,” you try to repeat, but you aren’t sure they sound like words.

Whether in response to you or as an errant thought, Steve’s own broken voice rattles at your sweaty neck. “You can take it,” he whispers gruffly. “You can take it.”

You’re floating by the time he comes, his hips stilling slowly. The buzz of your body now outdoes anything anesthesia or pain meds concocted.

Steve peppers your skin with lazy, light kisses until you remind him of your bound wrists, but then he’s overly apologetic and scrambling to free them.

He keeps himself inside you and maneuvers to sit with you on his lap.

You stay there for a while, your numb and sore arms folded between your chests. Steve only stops petting your shoulders to cradle your face, soft blue eyes roaming, adoring. He whispers concern that you’re okay, how are your legs, are you warm enough, you feeling good?

Yes, you think, you’ve taken care of your girl.

“I love seeing you like this,” he mumbles long after the pins and needles have abandoned their assault on your tired legs.

You tuck some silky hair behind his ear. “Like what? Fucked out?”

He’s floating too because he doesn’t chastise.

“Happy, healthy—“ he lets out a deep sigh “—home.”

“Speaking of home,” you say, inching ever so slightly higher to let him slide out of you, “wanna cuddle in bed all night and not get up until someone tries to break in the door?”

That knocks some of the glow off him. He drags a hand down his face. “Oh god, the poor people who have to clean this thing…”

“Let’s be honest,” you snort. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s been on you, but if it’s that big of a deal, we could go hose you down before handing our equipment in.”

He smiles, shaking his head in dismissal.

With his help, you climb off his lap and slowly shimmy up your bottoms, realizing he did truly make a mess of you both.

Steve looks down at his own lap, horrified. “Do I need to burn this?”

“That sounds like a challenge to make you filthier,” you consider, but maybe you should change into your civies before exiting the jet…

“Ya know,” Steve muses, passing over to the small locker of clothing overhead and grabbing a t-shirt and sweats, “I almost got shot in the head today, and you had three bullets fished outta you a week ago. I’m thinking we’ve earned a vacation.”

Workaholic Steve? Actively applying for time off? You’ll be damned.

“My my my, Captain Rogers…the real dirty talk begins.”

He huffs out a laugh and blushes.

“Well, I know we didn’t do anything more special than dinner for our anniversary, so…” He pulls you to his chest again, smelling of slightly musty laundry and pungent sex. “Let’s go on a fucking vacation.”

Your neck cranes to his height to see a soft smile. Oof, he’s good.

 “I missed you,” he adds like a prayer, “and you’re the badass who saved me.”

He giggles at your scrunched nose and watches you bask in that glory.

“Like I said, you’re welcome—“ you hug Steve, letting his warmth radiate through you, moving in time with his rising and falling chest “—and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses the crown of your head.

When you open the bombay doors, there’s a thermos left at the base of the ramp, a folded paper tucked beneath it. 

We should talk about how to better soundproof the jets. Brought you some refreshments. It’s hazelnut. ~Bucky

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jamneuromain @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @brandycranby

A/N: I sincerely give up on editing this anymore, so I hope it turned out okay 🙇🏻‍♀️

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#shy anon #ro answers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #old dog new tricks #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader smut #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #captain america smut

[venomous-qwille]

pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat pat

#he's too shy to say he likes it #asks answered #sunspot mk1 #gitm au #ghost in the machine au #qwilledraws

[ioniansunsets]

with all this new HEARTSTEEL stuff; i urgently NEED a scenario where f!reader is in the studio helping Kayn write a song or even Kayn doing a verse for reader!

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Writing Songs With/For You ✖

✖ Word Count: 564

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I decided to make it a scenario of Kayn writing a solo song in his room with you instead of one with Heartsteel in the studio, I think it feels a little more personal? Cuter? I hope I didn't make him too OOC >< I kept in mind that he was Heartsteel's rapper and instrumentalist. EDIT: There is now a Part 2, Here EDIT2: The confession in reference is here.

----

" Mmm...what rhymes with Love? Ugh, how does Aphelios do this!"

You couldn't help but laugh at your lover. He sits by his computer, face scrunched up in frustration. His hands tapping a steady rhythm on the desk, a tune playing in his head but no words to go with it. He spends a good few minutes whining and groaning as he types, deletes, pauses and does it all over again. Suddenly, he stops, turning to look at you.

" Babe come here I need you."

He turns to the you sitting on his bed. An arm out, inviting you close. As you walk over, he quickly pulls you in, dragging you onto his lap. His head leaning on your shoulder. Affectionately nuzzling his face into your neck, seemingly trying to shake away his writer's block. His hands leaving the keyboard to wrap around your waist. Slowly he relaxes. A soft tune? He's humming a song against your skin as his fingers play an imaginary instrument on your waist. As his feet tap out a beat he finally lets go of you. Words now coming to him in a perfect rhyme as he whispers his new song. A smile now on his face.

" Mmm~ I love you my muse, you're just so good for me you know that? The way holding you clears my head."

He laughs loudly, giving you a charming smile as he starts furiously typing on the computer. You giggle at his cute outburst, turning to look at the screen, slowly reading and digesting the words he typed. The scenario suspiciously reminiscent of your conversation with him when he first confessed to you. Wait, was this a love song about you? The feelings and emotions captured almost perfectly. Is that him writing about not being able to sleep the night before because he was so excited just to be in love with you? It almost feels like a sin reading the things he typed. It felt so deeply personal to him.

" Kayn? Is this about us?"

As you tease him, his face confirms it. His shit eating grin of pride from writing a good verse now turning into an awkward shocked look as a blush rises up his face. He has been caught in the act it seems. Forgetting that by having you on his lap means you have a very clear view of his screen.

" Ah! Get off me this is why I work alone!"

He tries to shake you off his legs, arms wrapping around you as he tries to lift you up. You let out a chuckle as you hold him tightly, refusing to let go. Reassuring him that you love it. He grumbles, your reassurance turning his embarrassment into a cheeky smile. Laughing, he effortlessly picks you up in a princess carry. Dropping you on the bed a few steps behind him. He climbs on top of you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before lightly caressing your cheek and getting off.

" Now give me some space, a musical rockstar genius is at work! I'll show it to you when I think its good enough. Go go!"

He shoos you away, asking for privacy as he laughs and continues typing away. You can't help but smile as you see how happy he is now compared to his frustration from earlier. How lucky you were to have him.

#Heartsteel!Kayn #Kayn x Reader #Shieda Kayn #THANK YOU ANON I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM #i read this in the morning before school and had been thinking of this scenario the whole day #im shy reading this and i wrote it LMAO #THE NEW HEARTSTEEL ART REALLY MADE MY SCREAM #Anon Answer #KaynLeague #Kayn League #League of Legends Imagines #Heartsteel AU! #Kayn LoL #League of Legends Scenarios #SCENARIOS

[shytastemakerthing]

Okay can I request Hantengu clones with love clone reader? She basically represents the romantic and family love that Hantengu had through his life and she probably the nicest out of all the clones? She also quite a beautiful one who might be the type to fall for a human and turn them into a demon to be with her. Fluff or angst with a happy ending depends on you

Hello! I absolutely love this idea, oh my goodness! I actually have a character based on such an emotion so I may convey a little bit of her personality and mannerisms into this! Enjoy!

Tw: Mentions of eating people, Hantengu in a way can be his own warning tbh, best way to describe this blood demon art is being stoned to the moon and back honestly

Prompt: Hantengu clones with love clone reader (fem)

No one was exactly sure how you had come into existence, only that one moment, the clones of Upper Rank 4 had been taking care of a recent threat that proved to be a bit more challenging than any of them had thought, and before a harsh blow could be struck to their main body, you had arrived, seemingly out of nowhere just in time to prevent such an attack, shielding Hantengu within the cherry blossom haori that adorned your form, keeping him cradled in your left arm, while your right hand held what seemed to be upon first glance, a silky, pink ribbon, but upon further inspection, the edges were woven around a fine blade, flexible, and capable of dealing great damage.

The other clones were rather swift to pause at the sight of you, the familiar Upper 4 kanji clearly inscribed within your eyes, you held the same horns, the same veins surrounding them and below your eyes, which were a vibrant cherry blossom pink. What was also noticed, was the serene calmness of your very presence, as if there was no trouble within the world. Even their attacker had stopped in their tracks, almost as if completely mesmerized by your presence. How exactly were you doing this? Sekido was the one who was the first to snap out of whatever trance you had on everyone who was around you, quickly eliminating their opponent. Which left the next set of questions.

Who were you and what were they going to do about you?

Sekido

First things first, I like to think that when Upper Moon 4 isn't on any form of assignment for Muzan, they all reside in some sort of secluded home away from most civilization, but not far enough away to where they can't find a human to feast upon.

Sekido was very much wary of your presence at first. Yes, you were another clone, much like he was, but he will still have his guard up around you. Seeing as you are a more positive emotion, he was loathing the idea of having to deal with another Karaku or Urogi....

But it is safe to assume that the surprises just kept coming

Yes, you were a far more positive emotion, seeing as you represent love itself, but you were nowhere near as boisterous as Urogi, and nowhere near Karaku's level of shamelessness. You were some sort of calm middle ground. You weren't overbearing, gentle in your words and actions. You were genuine in all that you did, and in all honesty? Your presence is the one he enjoys the most, not that he will admit it out loud.

As the emotion of anger, he is prone to extensive headaches and rage filled outbursts. And who better to help ease the pains and calm the rage than the gentle love clone?

You won't touch him or tell him to calm down, knowing that it could make everything so much worse, but you softly coax him into your room, a known safe haven for the clones and even Hantengu himself when the outside world is just too much and they need somewhere to just wind down and relax a bit.

The soothing scent of lavender is the first thing noticed, followed by the soft, low lights, and warm atmosphere of the room. To be honest, Sekido is possibly in there the most aside from Hantengu himself.

He won't exactly thank you, words are not his strong suit, but he will ruffle your hair a bit with a huff. With that, you know you've helped and so, you leave him to be with the remaining clones.

He didn't like you at first, but now? Someone so much as touches a hair on your head and it will be the last thing they ever do.

Urogi

Oh what fun! Another clone to be able to mess around with that won't try to rip his wings off for so much as breathing in their direction! Usually, he was only able to really mess around with Karaku, another positive emotion. Aizetsu would get too worked up and Sekido has tried to fry the harpy looking clone on more than one occasion.

While you are more than happy to partake in some of his mischief, a little lighthearted fun never hurt anyone, you do seem to have a limit just as to how far you will go, and while he may say that it's no fun, he can't just deny who he likes to call his dear little sister when she asks him so nicely to come inside before the sun rises and burns him.

Frankly, everyone is just surprised that you can get him to focus and listen, it's like taming a toddler, you just have to know the right words and to know what you're doing.

You absolutely help him to preen his feathers. Any natural bird is known to preen many times throughout the day, some even once every hour. While he may not preen to that extent, it's easily several times a day that he does this. Honestly, your hands are just so soft and perfect for this that, even though he doesn't exactly need to sleep, he could feel himself slipping into a more relaxed state, eyes closed as he slumps to the ground. It's the quietest anyone has ever seen him. Molting is a whole other deal, and as it was rather hard to deal with before, as the other clones didn't exactly want to deal with that, you were more than happy to help.

He has tried to 'preen' you several times, but given you lack any feathers to actually do this, he does it with your hair...... a lot.

And on more than one occasion, you have caught him nesting in your room. Hey, it's not his fault your room is so nice and warm, smells absolutely divine, and you have just enough cozy things to make a rather nice nest.

Karaku

Pleasure and Love, two very different concepts. One that Karaku doesn't always understand, but that is also something you are very understanding about. After all, it is the emotion he is created from. It was rather hard for him to feel anything else.

His little escapades are ones you don't really join him on, you may be the love clone, but for you, there was a very fine line between love and lust. Though, you didn't mind helping him clean up. He absolutely loves it when you fix his hair or his clothes just before he goes out for the night, and finds it rather adorable when you remind him to at least bring leftovers for everyone else.

Another who sees you much like a little sister, even if you have some motherly tendencies at times, he just really likes to have someone really care.

It was possible that he warmed up to you the fastest out of everyone. You just had this aura of serenity that surrounded you all of the time that seemed to pull everyone in. And he was pulled in quite a lot.

You have found him in your room at times, simply just lying on your bed. While he may represent a positive emotion, he does have some of his more negative emotions, much like Urogi. In times like these, words aren't often spoken, your presence is enough to be able to help. Brush through his hair, hum soft tunes, and he is instantly feeling better.

He has thanked Hantengu on more than one occasion for creating you.

Aizetsu

Ah, the clone of sorrow, the one who is by your side the most out of the clones. To him, the world is a bleak and sad place, depressing and pitiful. At least, when he is not glued to your hip. Somehow, your presence helps lift his spirits, even if only a little but. There is no crushing weight upon him. Just the calmness of your presence.

Possibly the second fastest to warm up to you, it really didn't take long for him to grow fond of you, seeing you much like a younger sibling, seeing as you looked as if you could very easily be in your teenage years, not a child, but not quite yet an adult.

He is in that safe space that is your room the most. The world is such a sad place of sorrow and despair, so to have this place of peaceful solitude is very welcoming for him.

There are times that he gets too deep into his sorrow, too worked up to where it was rather hard for him to do much of anything, and that is where you come in. You don't want to touch him and risk overstimulating him, so, you coax him into at least sitting, reminding him that you are right there. Breathing exercises (even if breathing isn't exactly required for them) have become a life saver, seeing and hearing what is around him has helped him in these moments. And then after, just you holding him, reassuring him that you're there. It has done more than you could know.

It was also the first time your Blood Art made its appearance. Misty Veil is something that you don't use too often, but as soon as the pink mist settled in the area, Aizetsu couldn't exactly recall why he had become so upset in the first place. It was as if all was well in the world, almost in a daze, he actually smiled, resting his head on you. Even the remaining clones found themselves completely and fully relaxed, laying on the ground surrounding you. It was the calmest all 4 of them had been at once.

Zohakuten

You don't see the clone of hatred too often, given that the other four are required to fuse together in order to create him. His opinion of you was much like that of Sekido's during your first encounter, and at first, he didn't see why the other four were so fond of you.

That was until a rather harsh battle that left even him at a slower regeneration rate did he see just as to why the others seemed to actually cherish you. Not only were you quick to dispose of the threat as soon as you had arrived, proving your power to be rather immense, but then to see the care that had been shown to the other clones, to now be shown to him.

Much like you, he had his own form of aura that surrounded him, one that paralyzed his enemies with such overwhelming dread that they just could not move. It held no effect on you, but yours certainly seemed to work on him, even if only slightly.

Your presence was enough to keep him rather calm, his overwhelming hatred not as immense. He made it well known that he could make it back to the secluded home on his own, but you were having none of it. His regeneration had slowed and it was not safe for him to try and split back into all of the others while in such a state. While they can't be killed unless something happened to Hantengu himself, it was still not up for debate, leading you to literally carrying him back.

In the confines of your room, you make sure he is sustained on enough human flesh and blood to get his regeneration back up to where it needed to be. Seeing you like this, while the others saw you as the doting little sister, you seemed much more like a mother to him. Perhaps it was just because he resembled a child or maybe it was like some distant memory that was not his own that someone had cared for their main body in such a way, but he just couldn't recall.

Urami

You can count the amount of times you have met the clone of resentment on both hands. He is hardly even out, less than Zohakuten, given he only comes out when the main body of Hantengu is in immediate danger and the other clones are nowhere to be seen.

Now, he completely towered over you, given he is well over seven feet tall and you stand at about the same height as Aizetsu, but to see that you were clearly not at all intimidated by him was new. He had met the other clones. In a way, they were all a bit intimidated by him, aside from Zohakuten, who held the rank of the strongest of the clones, but here you were. While you were soft and kind, you would protect him and the others, your fury knowing no bounds that even rivaled the power that Zohakuten held.

You met in a similar situation as to how you met Zohakuten, and he saw just how you were firsthand. Let's face it, you were the only other clone he actually liked. He tolerates the others, merely because they were all clones of Hantengu, but you are one he would actively seek out if he was out more often. But for now, he will settle for the small moments.

Your peaceful nature is rather calming to him. You mean no harm, your touch is gentle, you are just too kind and caring, something he knows needs to be protected, much like the main body.

In general, you are all but everyone's favorite. Your calm nature, your kind words, and your soothing aura have been enough to help each and every one of the clones in some way shape or form. To them, you are to be protected at all costs. You are far too kind and innocent for this cruel world and they would do anything to protect you from it and lord help the man who may one day become the object of your affections.

Thank you for requesting!

Requests are open!

#demon slayer #kny #sekido #urogi #aizetsu #karaku #zohakuten #hantengu #hantengu clones #platonic #sekido x reader #aizetsu x reader #urogi x reader #karaku x reader #kny aizetsu #kny karaku #kny sekido #kny urogi #kny urami #shy answers #shy writes #requests open

[prettyflyshyguy]

Sorry to hear your work pulled the rug out from under you like that. I offer fluffy hugs, and the hopes that where ever you work next has better ethics.

Hey thanks games thats extreemly cool of you. I'm confident I'll land a better place next and I've had a lot of industry colleagues reach out. I'm just hoping all my friends in the same boat as me land spots too since its displaced so many of us :(

#shy talks #shy answers #not art

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Request here my dear

Villain offers a massage to hero because they know how exhausted he is after so many battles. Villain is very skilled and relaxes hero but when the hero has to get up he realises hes got a bit of an issue in his pants :)

Give us some sexual tension don't be shy ;)

"I get it," the villain said. "That much responsibility on your back. No wonder you're stiff."

The villain smiled to themselves as they dug their fingernails into the hero's back, dragging them down. And they weren't the only one enjoying it: the hero moaned in response and curled his back a little. To remind the hero who was in charge, they pressed him back into the bed and tutted.

"But I am still surprised that you crawled to me and begged me to either punch or hug you. Our golden boy is really at his limits, hm?" The villain put a flat hand on the hero's back and rubbed gently. The hero had been in their apartment quite a few times already. Never on his own terms, it was mostly the villain dragging him here to stitch his wounds. But admittedly, the villain enjoyed not being alone.

"I had a long week," he said, his face half-buried in the villain's pillows.

"It's Wednesday."

"So?" he asked, more exhausted than the villain had expected.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" they asked.

"Nah." He didn't even look at them. Unfortunately, the villain got a little too distracted by him. They looked at his broad back, big muscles relaxing, his body breathing rythmically. The villain was a little hot, not really knowing where their eyes were supposed to stay. It was a little overwhelming.

"I've been told I'm great at talking. About stuff like that." The villain let their hand travel up and down the hero's back, tender fingers moving in patterns and lines. The hero took in a deep breath and his head turned around, two sleepy eyes checking out their enemy.

"I'm gonna smell like you if I keep laying here," he said.

"See it as payment. You tell me what happened and I won't kick your ass."

"You decided not to kick my ass. I wouldn't mind a fight."

"Oh, really?" Once again, the villain let their nails scratch over the hero's back and this time, the hero squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling heavily. "Do you want to beg me to break your bones? That's a strange request."

"Fine," he mumbled. "I got transferred."

"What?!"

"Yeah, like half across the country. Fucking sucks." The villain didn't know what to say. The hero was the only reason why they had moved here. He was the only reason why they stayed.

"Christ, that's not..." The villain swallowed. Their fingers were still going up and down the hero's back but the villain wasn't even aware how close their fingertips were to the hero's waist band.

"I know, I tried to argue with them but they were convinced I needed to leave the city," he said. "I hope it's not because of us but I think it is."

"What do you mean?" the villain asked but they knew exactly what he meant. They weren't allowed to do this. To be in bed together, to know where the other was staying, to stitch up each other.

It wasn't normal.

"People might know about us. I don't really care about that. Reputation or gossip - I'll still save people and I'll still love the people that I love. It doesn't matter to me what they print." He still didn't really turn his body. "Can you move your hand?"

To the villain's surprise, they discovered that their hand had been on the hero's lower back for a little too long. They found another way up the hero's back.

"So, you're moving soon?"

"Unfortunately," he said. "Believe me, I am still trying to fight it out, it's just a lot of paperwork."

Well, what exactly held the villain back, then?

They hesitated. This was stupid.

But then, they leaned over and kissed the hero's cheek. The villain felt their own heart banging against their ribs, making them almost panic. However, the hero - although he seemed surprised - pressed a kiss to their lips. It was quick and awkward and for a second, the villain could only stare at the man in their bed, the only person that was important.

He turned a little and the villain couldn't help but go in for another kiss. Harder this time, more passionate. The villain had nothing to lose now. They were tired of pretending they weren't yearning for him and his body. They were tired of pretending not to notice his muscles or his messy hair or his raspy voice in the morning. Totally tired of pretending they didn't like his dumb jokes or how he didn't even have to stand on his tip-toes to reach the villain's coffee.

"Wait..." he murmured, "get on top."

And the villain did. The hero pulled them on top easily.

"Oh. Oh."

"Don't even-" But the villain had to giggle and moved their hips a little, just to rile him up even more. He could only moan quietly and grab the villain's thighs to stop them. "You're evil."

"You deserve a good goodbye," the villain answered but in reality, they let him struggle for twenty minutes until their hand finally dove down.

#“dont be shy” they say... #dont you know ive been in the trenches fighting so yall can have some smut #unbelievable #“spitting on smut” yuck who in their right mind would- #ok nvm #not proofread i am studyngi gimem a break #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #villain #hero #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask #suggestive #nb/m

[erwinsvow]

would rafe be toxic with shy!reader? like say she decided to get really dolled up from him and when he picks her up to go to a party or maybe on a date he’s like who are you getting dolled up for tf??? or is he not really like that with her or if he is toxic with shy!reader, would you share what kind of toxic he’d be?

this made me feel things.. first of all YES. he is toxic but a little different, i don't think a drabble would accurately describe this dynamic so im gonna talk about it instead im sorry !

i think he is toxic but it's more about protecting her, like not letting her go places alone because she's gonna let ppl walk over her. the toxic part is like kind of instilling it in her that she needs to be reliant on him for protection which she ofc eats up since thats her vibe imo

i do think he maybe doesn't realize the extent of her personality sometimes, to me she's not really a party girl but she makes an effort for him. the scenario you described is so real! she would get dolled up for him and he's thinking like she hates parties... who is she tryna impress.. but it all works out, shy reader doesnt have an argumentative bone in her body, shes an apologetic angel. she doesn't lie to rafe either so sometimes there is no reason to be toxic to her, she just listens to everything rafe says without much of a problem at all <3 this mind sound delulu (haters stay away) but i can understand from her pov it's nice to not have to worry and think about just trust in rafe <33 she likes it that way

i think she also teaches him to be more trusting and since she would never so much as look at another guy much less talk (unlike kook trio reader my beloved) he doesnt have much reason to be toxic either. i think theyre not healthy at all i mean its fucked in its own way, but they're beyond happy so <3

i will say shy reader is the one kelce & top and even ward is like rafe... you better not be mistreating her... srsly...

hes like shut up she calls me dad in and out of the bedroom and likes getting choked out and slapped around u don't know shit abt her

#i love you. #i love you i love you thank you for asking this! #youre just the best i hope you enjoyed this rambly little answer <3 #📮 asks #shy reader

[canisalbus]

My very religious grandma saw a drawing of machete in my images and said "you should have that as your background instead of that demon"

It's nice to know Machete has the seal of approval of at least one (1) very religious grandma.

#what more could you want #answered #sleep-being-shy