Nsfw Alphabet - Blog Posts

Hello! Can i please request some sampo nsfw headcanons/ A-Z if you do them?

I love your writing!

omg thank u sm 🫶🏽 and pls lmk if you like it!! its literally my first time making my hcs public LMAOAO

Sampo NSFW A-Z headcanons! 17+ This post is A-L, the second half, M-Z will be in another post <3

A - Aftercare

(Receiving) Usually, after his 5+ rounds of cumming, he becomes completely mind-numb and tired, exhaustion taking over his body. He is very pliant when you gently guide him towards the bathroom, a hot, steaming bath waiting for the both of you. Once he's regained some energy, he's very affectionate, spooning you and placing complacent kissing all over your face and neck. This often leads to another few rounds~

(Giving) After he has had his fun with you, he gently wipes you with a warm wet rag, being careful not to bring any unwanted stimulation. Once he cleans the both of you up, he holds you in his arms, whispering words of assurance and affection into your skin as he kisses you, waiting for you to come back to him. He gives you a cup of water, slips you into your sleepwear (which is really just an old shirt of his that's big on you, and some shorts/boxers he found in his wardrobe.), and carries you into bed.

B - Body part

He loves all of your body, but if he had to choose, he'd pick your lips. He loves kissing them anytime of the day, and he especially loves when you surprise him with one after a long day. On his body however, he'd choose his hands. They get to touch and caress your body, hold your hands and face, and touch your most sensitive parts. He can't get enough of you.

C - Cum

His cum is thick with a tangy aftertaste, and he always cums copious amounts each time. He cums in spurts, but when he's overstimulated or empty, it just leaks out and becomes thin and runny. He absolutely loves cumming on your tits/chest and face, but doing it inside you takes first place. He loves the feeling of you clenching down on him as you came, and he just can't help but immediately cum after you, filling you up so much that it dripped down onto the bed (or floor, cuz lets be real, you guys do it almost everywhere).

D - Dirty secret

He actually loves it when you edge him/degrade him, but he'll never tell you that~

E - Experience

Look at this man and tell me that he's not a virgin.

exactly. He has absolutely ZERO! (you've ruined him throughly and now he's a slut for u😍)

F - Favorite position

Any position in which he can look at you is his favorite, but he tends to cum way quicker when youre on top, riding him. maybe its something to do with watching his dick go in and out of you so lewdly~

G - Goofy

He tends to let out a small chuckle most of the time, making small jokes or remarks in the heat of the moment. He once made a comment that made you laugh hard while he was inside you that he had to pull out and slump onto you, his laughs vibrating against your neck and making you laugh more, turning the moment into a comedy show. You still make references to it when he's about to put it in.

H - Hair

He tends to keep it well groomed, wisps of hair trailing up to his navel. He started to shave it bald after his first time with you, but you voiced how he was prettier with his dark hair down there ;)

I - Intimacy

When he's on top, he put his focus completely onto you, watching your reactions and body, taking his time to make you feel completely good. When he's on the bottom however, he becomes a pliant good boy and does what you let him to, the pleasure numbing his brain. He lays there and takes it, begging you for more.

J - Jack off

He used to jack off to the thought of you before the two of you had gotten together, but after he confessed, he would take random items of clothing that you had worn and touched himself, imagining that it was you who was touching him so erotically, you who was making him feel this good (he once stole your underwear, and came so hard. that he passed out, only lasting barely a minute. He snuck it back into your laundry basket and couldn't look you in the eye for days). Once he got a taste of your handjobs however, it just never felt enough anymore.

K - Kink

He absolutely loves praise, and loves it better when he's blindfolded and handcuffed. He has a weakness to being choked as you ride him, and being completely dominated (if that wasn't obvious already lmaoo). A secret kink of his is voyeurism, he thinks that the danger of getting found out just adds appeal, although this does mean you have to shut him up when he starts to lose his mind over a handjob.

L - Location

He does like it in the bedroom, but he absolutely goes crazy when you two do it in an alleyway. Something about the risk of getting caught just makes it ten times more better for him.

A: Aftercare

-depending on how you all feel you'll either all fall asleep or the three of you will get to work, Mic ordering food, Aizawa changing the sheets and you setting up a bath. Overall it's a very sweet and quiet moment.

B: Body Parts (Favorite body part on themselves and their partners)

-Aizawa likes Mic's hair (samee) because somehow despite all the gel and hair spray he uses on it it's actually very soft especially after being washed. And believe it or not his favorite body part on you is literally your entire face, like have you looked in the mirror lately? A very good looking human is what you are. His favorite body part on himself is his hands he even owns a small collection of rings that he wears that make his hands look soo good.

-Mic: Has a bit of an obsession with your eyes, there just so pretty, and don't even get him started on aizawa's jawline (no really don't he'll legit run away glowing a bright red never to be seen again) and he himself is really proud of his tiny mustache and how well kept it is.

C: Cum (Where does it normally end up?Where does he like to bust a nut?)

Aizawa: all over your ass and back no questions asked

Mic: Everwhere, it get's EVERYWHERE.

D: Dirty Secret

Aizawa: Has an album of lewd images and nudes from both you and mic stashed away on his work computer.

Mic: His dream is to film a sex tape and post it on the hub

E: Experience

Aizawa: Even though this man could probably sleep with whoever he so chooses (cause have you seen this man?) his only sexual experience before you and Mic was reading and writing smut.

Mic: He knows what he's doing to a point because of having a ew one night stands here and there but anything outside of vanilla missionary sex he was completely clueless

F: Favorite Position

Aizawa: Mating press

Mic: Doggy Style and reverse cowgirl

G: Goofy

Aizawa is on the more serious side whereas Mic will crack jokes here and there depending on the mood

H: Hair (are they into hair pulling?)

Aizawa: yes, 100% he is all for it both giving and reciving.

Mic: Doesn't really wanna hurt nobody so he doesn't like pulling hair but he loves having his hair pulled

I: Intimate

Aizawa: he is on the more intimate side compared to Mic who is only really intimate on occasion; anniversaries, birthdays, special occasions, but just spur of the moment or a quickie? no not really.

J: Jack off (how often)

Aizawa: Not that often, as he's always out doing patrols or out somewhere trying to keep his class from getting themselves killed

Mic: Pretty frequently actually, with working two jobs he can't always stop at home for sexy time.

K: Kinks

Aizawa, Hair pulling, bondage(both tying people up and being tied up) , overstimulation (recieving and giving).

Mic: Voice kink, voyeurism, edging (mainly being edged).

L: Location

Aizawa: Prefers to do the sideways cha cha in the bedroom but after school hours in between grading papers, the classroom is another frequent location.

Mic: Low-key semi-public sex is his jam so anywhere with a medium risk of being caught like a closet at work or the soudbooth he uses to record his radio show.

M: Motivation

Aizawa: Reading a really good smut, or if you (or mic) tease him through out the day then say goodbye to your walking ability

Mic: Honestly he's not too complicated just finding that he got a few spicy texts while at work or whispering everything you're gonna do to him in his ear and he just melts.

N: No

Neither are really into blindfolded sex or anything that might hurt too much mentally or physically

O: Oral (giving or reciving?)

Aizawa: Giving

Mic: Reciving and giving

P: Pace

Aizawa: Slow but rough

Mic: Goes with the flow, and mainly let's you and/or aizawa set the pace

Q: Quickies (Do they like them?)

Aizawa: He's down for it occasionally but not all the time

Mic: Yep, he legit loves them

R: Risks (Do they take risks?)

Aizawa: Pretty cautious but sometimes he's willing to try it.

Mic: Yes he loves risk taking during sex especially in public spaces

S: Stamina

Due to being Pro Heroes they have pretty good stamina usually lasting 1-3 rounds if they worked that day but on the small amount of day's off they can last 4-6 rounds

T: Toys (do they use toys?)

Aizawa: basically an expert and owns his own little 'tool box' that he hides in the back of the closet.

Mic: Not really, he's only really owned a fleshlight but he hardly used it.

U: Unfair(do they like to tease?)

yes constantly, and most of the time their so smug when they do it.

V: Volume (How loud are they?)

Aizawa: Will starts out with quiet grunts and groans but as you huys go on, he gets exceptionally louder

Mic: Wellllll, the neighbors can 100% hear everything

W: Wild Card

Both Midnight and Hawks have joined you three in the bedroom on multiple occasions.

X: X-Ray (What are they hiding down there)

Aizawa: About 7 and a half inches with a girth about the thickness of a pringles can

Mic: Not the thickest but makes up for it at 9 inches

Y: Yearning (how high it their sex drive?)

Aizawa: About every other day or so sometimes every to days

Mic: Pretty high if he didn't have work yall would never leave the bed for anything except the bathroom and food.

Z: ZzzZz (how fast do they fall asleep?)

Once they know both yourself and each other are taken care of they pass out almost instantly

Your Chris's fluff alphabet was great. Can you write a smit alphabet?

Chris Evans | NSFW Alphabet

A/N: I cant write a smit one but I can write a smut one. Lol. But also thank you cause I love these and loved my fluff one!! If anyone wants any fics on any of the letters send it to my inbox babies x

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

Chris will want to remain inside of you for a while after you’re both done, just catching his breath plus he likes the feeling of being inside of you but eventually you’ll shove him until he gets up and goes to the bathroom. He comes back with a warm cloth and then slowly cleans you up, making sure you’re alright, asking you your favourite part (He loves hearing he did good, mans has a praise kink). Then he’ll make sure you pee (YOU HAVE TO PEE) because he knows UTIs aint pretty and doesn’t want to be the reason you get one. Sometimes you’ll have a shower together and he’ll wrap you up in a towel and then takes you back to bed, cuddle with you and pat your hair until you’ve fallen asleep. Sometimes if you both aren’t completely dead by the end, he’ll open the door and let Dodger back in, make you both tea and you’ll cuddle while watching a movie.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

His hands calloused and rough his fingers fit perfectly around your throat, and he always knows the right kind of pressure to apply with his fingers against your skin or your pussy. You can’t get enough of his long digits deep inside of you or down your throat as you taste yourself on him. He also loves how good his hand looks around your pretty little throat, the way your eyes roll back into your head, and you gasp a little at the partial loss of air.

Everyone thinks Chris is an ass guy… and he is but your tits make him go wild. He’s arguably toeing the line over into tit guy territory. He always wants to have his face in them, even if you’re just sitting on his lap innocently, he calls them his favourite pillows. During sex, they’re always one of the main places he goes, just licking and sucking and nibbling on your nipples knowing it makes your back arch and you let out a gaspy moan. He loves the sound.  He’s also gotten very used to tit jobs and while they don’t do much for you, you love how excited he gets, mounting you and putting his cock between your tits.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Chris has a massive breeding kink, so the idea of you filled with his cum turns him on beyond belief and he wants as much of it in you as possible. Which includes shoving the oozing cum back in you with his fingers once he cums in you. Sure, you look absolutely gorgeous to him when its covered over your cheek and you show him his load on your tongue before you swallow but nothing beats a good cream pie.

The thought of putting a baby in your warm, soft womb and it being his, how nice and round your belly would get with his baby – drives him nuts. He’ll wait a little longer though for the real thing.

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

You get a pedicure every month and always pearly white toes and Chris always asks to see them after, rubbing your feet, giving your toes a cheeky suck. He loves how they look against his cock when you tease it with your feet. It’s not an outright foot fetish but he does find your feet weirdly sexy, especially in heels or sandals. Especially the fact that they’re connected to your strong, curvy legs.

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

The man has history and he’s not ashamed of it. He always says there may have been girls before you but you’re the one in his bed every night so who cares. You weren’t no angel either! He always tells you the sex with you is different and he hasn’t experienced that level of intimacy and love with anyone else, plus you two are always doing new things together so it’s not like you haven’t had firsts with each other.

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

One week when Chris took you away to the cabin, he pulled out the Kuma Satra and you attempted every position in the book. Granted, some required flexibility that neither of you two could muster but it was one of the best weeks of his life. Trying out new things, you two never leaving the bedroom except for food and water. He loved it.

But the classics are still his favourite, particularly doggy in front of the mirror. This way he can see your pretty face when you cum. He loves how good you look with your back curved, ass high up in the air. He’ll bend over a little and put his fingers in your mouth or around your throat or force you to look at yourself by pulling on your hair. The angle is the best for both of you, with Chris hitting the super deep spots and you not having to do much work. He loves watching your ass jiggle and ripple when he has you in doggy, he can’t get enough of the thickness of your ass and how it feels when he rolls it around in his large hands, trying to get as much as he can.

But when he’s feeling a bit more romantic and intimate, it’s just classic missionary. He can look at your face and kiss your neck, intertwine your fingers, and hold your hands above your head. he likes it when you wrap your legs around him, trying to take him as deep as possible and the way your chest presses up against his, that alone drives him crazy.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in that moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

The Kuma Satra week ended a lot of the time with you both falling into each other, laughing your heads off. He likes how you don’t take it too seriously all the time and he can joke or tease you a bit. Sometimes in doggy or when he’s going down on you, he’ll make a stupid joke saying he found a mole you’ve never seen before, looking up at you smirking. Early on in your relationship you named his dick “The Captain” and while at first, he groaned and told you not to call it that, he got on with the inside joke quickly. He’ll come up behind you and say, “The Captain is on alert.” Then rub his boner against you, or text you that “The Captain misses you”.

We love The Captain.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

You banned Chris from shaving his snail trail because you just loved it so much. When he doesn’t have to shave his chest for movies, you’re the happiest girl alive. You love the big manly chest. Down low, he keeps it trimmed, it’s much like his beard in texture and length.

As for you, he says he doesn’t like hair in his food, but you were waxing way before he came along so it didn’t matter. A little hair isn’t going to stop him though so if you get lazy and let it grow, he treats it all the same. He knows better than to start telling a woman what to do with her body.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Chris feels that intimacy isn’t just sex. It’s the little jokes you share or the soft squeeze of your waist to pull you closer. He’s a complete and utter romantic normally, and sex really comes into that.

He cried having sex with you once and when you thought you had done something completely wrong, he just looked up and said

“Sawrry its not you… well it is… I just got a little emotional about how much I love you and how lucky I am to be so close to you… its nothing though we can keep going if ya want. Sorry it’s probably not the biggest turn on to have a guy cry during sex” Safe to say you cried as well.

He thinks what you two have is super special and loves every second he gets to be close to you in that regard. He likes the ritual of lighting a candle, giving you a nice massage or putting rose petals on the bed just because.

He’s intense, when he’s deep inside of you, looking into your eyes and your hands are interlocked he’ll tell you he loves you with complete earnest laced in his voice. He loves that he’s able to be so intimate and vulnerable with you and only you. He thinks sex between you two is sacred and goes above just fucking – it’s an act of love and devotion for him and he makes that known every time.

J = Jack off (Masturbation head canon)

While nothing beats the feeling of you, long stretches of time away meant he had to take matters into his own hands (literally). Doesn’t mean he doesn’t take all the help he can get even to the point of spraying your perfume on the pillow and pulling out a pair of your panties from his luggage. And obviously, facetiming you no matter how tired he is. Being able to see your face and hear your voice as you egg him on sends him over the edge. He loves watching you doing your thing on camera, turning him on. He’ll lock the door and silence his phone, so all his attention is on your pretty little face.

When your miles away and fast asleep, he’ll go off the endless photos and videos on his phone of you… some with clothes on and some not…

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

The way you call him Daddy drives him wild, you’d never do it in front of people, but he loves hearing it. The way you release into his strong figure, letting him take control of things. He loves how cock drunk you get, unable to talk with him inside of you as he pry your mouth open with his thumb, rubbing it along your lower lip.

Pulling your arms behind your back in doggy and holding them secure with his hands is the nice and quick old-fashioned way. But you’ve got a little time, he’ll get out the fluffy handcuffs, they were a joke at first, but he loves watching you squirm, unable to touch his chest, his arms, his face or your clit, desperate for a release.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom obviously is the top option; everything you need, endless privacy and the bathroom is right there.

But you both get a secret kick out of event bathrooms, doing a sneak away, one at a time to be discrete. The last person closing the door behind them and immediately you two jumping on each other, literally, you’ll jump him, and he’ll catch you readily, lips attached yours as he places you on the sink while your hands fall to his belt, trying to get it undone as quickly as possible.

The back of cars get too stuffy and aren’t your favourite, but he’ll slip his fingers under your dress and tease your clit a bit or you’ll palm him over his pants maybe even stroke it a little before you have to get out, both now horny and frustrated till the moment you can sneak away.  

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

Seeing you wear his clothes.

When you’re sweaty after a workout, he reckons you taste like a beautiful, salty/sweet mix and he loves how you look in leggings.

When you have to jump a little to get something off a high shelf or when running up the stairs and your boobs bounce, and a ripple falls across your whole body.

 Anything tight and sexy that shows off your soft skin and the curve of your body – he adores. When you have to be serious for a work call or a meeting. He could watch you talk all day in your professional voice over zoom, hair in a claw clip and glasses on your face, only he can see the tiny shorts your wearing under the desk. He calls you his sexy receptionist and he’d stare at you all day if he didn’t want to rip your clothes off.

But his true motivation, is people flirting with you. All the ogling eyes, lingering stares, and poor attempts to whoo you motivate him more to pull you closer, take you home and prove to you, who really deserves your love and that he’s the only guy allowed to take you to bed.

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

Three ways and above. Chris was never good with sharing growing up so there is no way in hell that he would ever share his favourite thing in the world… you. People think you have this open Hollywood relationship, but it couldn’t be further from the truth because he is extremely loyal and holds you to the same standard, he holds himself. 100% Monogamous. He wants to be the only one making you cum. (and he gets jealous way too easily)

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

He loves when you get on your knees and worship his cock, and all your little tricks you do with your tongue and mouth. But he much prefers the way you react when he goes down on you.

He loves overstimulating you and making you go crazy; he knows if you say stop you don’t really mean it (you have another safe word) because your hand is pulling his head deep into your core. He’ll pull your legs over his shoulders, get a firm grip on the skin of your ass and pin you down to the bed and his favourite, using his strength to pin you up against the wall effortlessly no matter your size. He won’t stop until you’re completely out of juices to cover his beard with. He loves the taste of you on his tongue, the feeling of you pulling on his hair and leaving red marks on his back. He doesn’t care if he can’t really breathe while he’s being smothering by the beautiful, soft, plump skin of your thighs. Lapping, sucking, nibbling, and rubbing with his tongue and fingers.

Chris thinks he has a magical tongue… and he does, he just doesn’t let you hear the end of it. He will always go down on you first, he likes it even more than getting head. He’ll be between your legs, licking and sucking up every drop of your sweet goodness, spitting on your folds, inhaling the scent of you and holding you down as you try and wiggle out of his grip. It’s a lot of “Give me one more baby.” And “God, you go crazy for my mouth don’t ya sweetheart?” He’s such a dick about it but you love him between your legs so you’re not gonna complain. He’s not just using it on your pussy... no… he’s licking at your ear, rolling it along your thighs or your lower back and shoving it in your mouth whenever he gets the chance – he always tastes either like mint gum or beer… and sometimes both and it’s a delicious mixture that makes you go weak.

Especially, when you’re on your stomach and he can move his tongue up towards your tight little hole, teasing it to prepare it for his finger.

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

It depends, sometimes sex is for you two to reconnect in an intimate, sexual “I missed you” way and then its slow and sensual with lots of slow, deep wet kisses and you can enjoy feeling every vein of him against your walls.

But other times, to get you both over the edge it’ll move into the vigorous pace of his balls slapping against your pussy and his cock pounding into you so you can feel every hit of your cervix.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickie, how often etc.)

With Chris’ schedule you don’t get many nights together and you both kind of like the sudden thrill of ripping each other’s clothes off to get as close as you possibly can. Wherever and whenever you can, his pants will be at his ankles and your dress ridden up, with you pushed against the nearest wall or surface. You stopped wearing underwear so frequently so he could always have easy access. It always ends with you just making sure your dress doesn’t look weird after a quickie in the bathroom and you trying to push him off because he keeps kissing and rubbing on you saying he wants more. But you always end, smiling from him kissing every inch of your face and tickling your sides to emit those cute little giggles.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

If no one gets hurt… he’ll do it. While you two don’t do anything super crazy, he gets a kick out of reading some bizarre sex tip online or seeing some crazy position and then doing it with you. He brought a massage candle and went crazy for the feeling of you pouring hot wax on his chest. He likes trying new things because he figures you never know what crazy idea will make its way onto your permanent list of activities.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He goes well for his age, as long as you cum at least twice he’s happy. Hell, he could go all day with breaks for meals. One time as a “joke” he took Viagra. He didn’t need it; a buddy just gave it to him as a joke and he took it. You both were sore for the next 2 weeks because he couldn’t stop fucking you. You tried a thousand different things to try and get him over the edge, you were up till 4am until sleep gave in. It was fun but the mix of horniness and inability to cum just made him go crazy. You promptly banned him from ever taking it again.

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

The drawer. You two are kinky, so you have a whole drawer in his bedside table dedicated to toys. Handcuffs, rope, blindfolds, butt plugs, vibrators, dildos, vibrator remotes – you don’t always use them (because you don’t have to) but it’s always fun when you have time and want to get a little extra spicier. He’ll sometimes lean over and grab the little bullet vibrator he got for you and place it on your clit while he’s fucking you, for that little extra push to get you over the edge.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Chris is a massive tease whether it’s coming out of the bathroom holding his towel so it’s just covering the Captain or coming up behind you, barely scraping his crotch against your ass. Always the non-cholent, faux innocence asking you what you’re doing, how you are feeling, if you want some loving. Running his hands down your sides, moving them towards your hips and ass and giving you soft grabs, pinching at your rolls to make you giggle. Then you’ll confront him and ask him what he’s doing, and he’ll go all “Oh nothing… don’t worry about it.”

Sometimes, he’ll even just pretend not to care when you’re in the mood, giving you “hmms and umms” not looking up from whatever he’s doing just to see how long you can take it. Like a fucking psycho.

He knows not to tease you too much when you’re in the mood or in the moment or you’ll start crying from frustration, Chris doesn’t want his baby crying he just wants to make you feel good. He also can’t keep his hands off you for long.

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

There’s no need to be quiet with the house to yourself so Chris is full of groans and grunts, even a little bit of whining if you tease him too long, to the point your neighbours probably think he’s in pain…

But he loves how much you love dirty talk whispered in your ear.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon)

Your period and Chris’ schedule don’t always see eye to eye. Meaning when he comes home after a long time away and all he wants to do is bury his cock in you, a bit of blood is the last thing that’s going to stop him. He’ll throw a towel down and never makes a big deal if a little gets on him, it’s just a period. You also enjoy it more (if that’s even possible with Chris), all your hormones running wild, orgasms and sensations are heightened. He notices it a huge help with your mood swings and cramps so now he just sees it as a win-win situation.

He’s not putting his head down there though.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We’ve all seen it. That shit is as thick as a coke can.

So, Chris knows that before he even tries to push it there must be lube. Whether that’s the good stuff from the bottle, his spit or him taking extra time to get you really turned on beforehand. Because there is no way that thing is slipping in raw. He’ll always make sure to mention how tight you are around him and how good you take his cock.

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

Pretty fucking high… but not to exhaustion.

If Chris is at home, you’re doing it 4 times a week minimum. Morning, during breakfast, lunch, before bed, middle of the night – it doesn’t matter if you’re both game and wanting. It’s impressive for his age and he doesn’t isn’t the old man he claims his is with all that energy to please you. You think he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s away. Maybe if he wasn’t away for half the year it’d be steady and normal but he always comes home ravenous and desperate for you.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep)

After a hot and heavy love making session, once you’ve both done the necessary aftercare you are both spent. Chris nuzzles his bearded chin into your chest or neck and falls right asleep in your warm embrace and you both drop off pretty quickly. But don’t worry he’ll be nudging you awake at 2am for round 2.

hello, and good day king adonis!

a mix of nsfw and sfw alphabet with loki!kang please. 🤭 (idc which letters).

-☆.

N/SFW ALPHABET | HE WHO REMAINS

━━. songs loading...

#. CW! X-18 + PG. talks of kinks. idk, i feel as if you should've seen one of these by now. mentions of pregnancy and kids.

#. LETTERS! fluff; j. t. y. v. l. nsfw; n. d. v. i. s.

. SFW

J = EALOUSY [How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?]

he can't really get jealous since you two live in the middle of the fucking multiverse. but if there was an instance where he was jealous, he'd simply wrap his arm around your waist and keep you close to him.

T = TINY ONES [How do they feel about kids? How would they act with kids?]

oh trust me he wants kids. he's been lonely for quite some time, and he wants a family now that your with him. like in my other post, he's the kid(s) favorite. he's so adorable and treats them really well. cuddle sessions with the kid(s) happen regularly. literally the cutest father to ever exist.

Y = ANK [What do they do that makes their partner mad? That makes one wanna yank they ass?]

he throws, and i mean THROWS your damn child on a daily. and your kid finds it funny but its scary ASF. that, and slapping your ass every minute of everyday. its annoying😭

V = ALUE [How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?]

he values the relationship so much. he's quite literally wanted to have someone live with him for a while. being stuck in the middle of the multiverse alone with no one to talk to but ms.minutes?!?! its excruciating. if there's a fight, he's apologizing first and tries to figure things out fast, because he cant stand you being mad at him. you quite literally trump anything else. minus, well the multiversal war incoming. he's gonna try and stop that and love you. but you know, kinda stressful.

L = LOVE LANGUAGE [What is their love language? Gift giving? Quality time?]

100% quality time. like i've been saying. lonely. cuddling is just...yes. literally won't leave you alone. "sweetheart, i have to-" "dont care. im getting my hugs." just being near you is enough, tbh. babe is a little touch-starved, that's all.

. NSFW

N = NO [Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs. Risks they would never take?]

hurt you. in like, any way. it'd make him feel like his variants. don't do that to the poor old man. he's pretty down for anything, except for things dealing with body waste and hurting. like, scat? hell no. watersports? nope. i mean, if you accidentally pissed during a fucking orgasm, well that's normal. but playing with piss?!? thats a hell the fuck no.

D = RUNK [How dazed or drunk can they get during the deed? How fast does this happen?]

very. a minute into pounding into your pussy and his eyes are dilating. he gets pussy drunk, reeaal fast. and his thrusts get sloppy cuz your walls are squeezing him so fucking tight. trust he's in love with your pussy.

V = OLUME [How loud they are, what sounds they make?]

medium. groans and moans in your ear, but never too loud. he leaves the screaming to you lol. when his voice gets raspy becuase of you though?? fuck its hot.

I = NTIMACY [How romantic are they during it?]

very romantic. he's sappy. its a bonding experience that he hasn't had in who knows how long. trust he's shed a tear one time. he's a soft and rough type ngl.

S = SKILLS [How skilled are they? Have they had experience?]

yes and no. he hasn't had a sexual interaction in who knows how long. he was probably talented when he didn't take station in the middle of nowhere, but he's probably forgotten some things.

#NOTES! bbg. you know you rq every other day right? 😭. ive seen ☆ in my last 5 requests bae. but since its easy i'll do it damn. good day to you. i changed my format...again.

Bucky Barnes NSFW Alphabet

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist

main blog masterlist

word count: 1.7k

summary: nsfw alphabet (just my opinions/headcanon for bucky) 

warnings: (18+ ONLY) smut headcanons

A – Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)  

Bucky always makes sure that you’re okay and that you enjoyed it. He’ll make sure you go to the bathroom, that you’re comfortable, and cuddle you until you fall asleep. This is what happens most of the time; he just wants to take care of you.  

B – Body part (favorite body part on him & you)  

At first, he despised his hands because of how much harm they caused, but since you came around, he’s learned to love them a lot. You made him realize that he can be gentle again, holding your cheek when he kisses you, tracing patterns on your skin when you’re cuddling, making you come undone on his fingers. He loves his hands because of how much you love them.  

Bucky loves your thighs like he really loves them. He likes to rest his hands on them, feel them squeeze around his waist or head. He thinks they’re so soft and warm, and sometimes he’ll use them as a pillow.   

C – Cum (basically anything that has to do with cum)  

Bucky is really big on cumming inside you. Whether it’s in your pussy or mouth, he loves it. Just the thought of filling you up with his cum turns him on so much.   

D – Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory)  

Bucky would like to try pegging. He has never brought it up because he thinks it’s a bit embarrassing, and it wasn’t discussed much in the 40s. But he definitely wants to give it a try; he just needs to build up the courage to tell you first.   

E – Experience (how experienced he is)  

We all know that Bucky was a bit of a ladies' man back in the day. So, he has some experience, but not too much. He actually experiments and learns more that you two are together.   

F – Favorite Position (another self-explanatory)  

Bucky likes any position where he can see your face. He’s really big on intimacy and being in the moment and loves to be able to kiss you and watch your eyes when you cum on him.  

G – Goofy (is he more serious or goofy in the moment)  

He’s a bit more serious in the moment, but if something happens (accidentally bumping heads, someone walking in, etc.), he has no problem laughing it off and then getting back to work.  

H – Hair (how well-groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)  

He keeps it nicely trimmed, not too bushy, but he also doesn’t shave it all. Just leaves a small patch of curls. And yes, the carpet does match the drapes.  

I – Intimacy (is he more romantic, distant, etc.)  

Bucky is a very intimate and romantic person. He loves to be in the moment with you, all of his focus on making you feel good. Even when it gets rough, he still shows that he loves you.  

J – Jack Off (masturbation hc)  

Since the two of you started dating, he hasn’t felt the need to jack off often, but when he’s away on a mission and he has some alone time, then he’ll take care of himself. Most of the time, he’s able to get you on facetime, and the two of you masturbate together.   

K – Kinks (one or more of his kinks)  

Bucky definitely has a praise kink. He wants to know that you’re enjoying it, and the praises let him know that he’s doing a good job; also, it tends to go straight to his ego. But he also loves to praise you, letting you know that you feel so good wrapped around him, taking him so well, that you look so pretty with your back arching and eyes rolling back.  

He also has a size kink. Bucky is a pretty big guy, and he loves the size difference. Also, he likes to put his palm flat on your stomach and try to feel himself as he thrusts in and out of you; it drives him crazy.  

A bit of a choking kink, though he’s always cautious with how much pressure he’s putting because he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you.   

L – Location (where does he prefer to do it)  

He prefers to do it in the bedroom because he can have his way with you. You two can be as loud as you want, and it’s easier to switch positions (more comfortable too). Still, Bucky has no problem doing it elsewhere.  

M – Motivation (what turns him on/gets him going)  

Seeing you in his clothes is a major turn-on. And given that you sleep in his shirts and henleys, expect a lot of sex before bed and in the morning.   

Also, teasing him and talking dirty will definitely get him going. He loves it when you try to take control.   

N – No (stuff he wouldn’t do/turn-offs)  

Bucky can be quite jealous and a bit insecure, so he doesn’t even like the thought of sharing you with someone else. He likes to think of you as only his and doesn’t want anyone else giving you pleasure when he could do it so much better.  

Also, it’s not so much of a turn-off, but Bucky doesn’t even try to fuck you if you’re injured. Instead, he goes into full protective mode and will take care of you until you heal/get better. But once you’re all better? All bets are off, and he’s going to town on you.   

O – Oral (preference in giving/receiving)  

Bucky loves it when you go down on him, and it’s a sure way to make him weak in the knees. He is entirely at your disposal the second you get your mouth on him. It also brings out the subside of him; he’ll whimper and beg for you. On some occasions when he’s feeling a bit rougher, he’ll face fuck you, but he still tries to make sure that it’s not too much.   

As for giving, he could eat you out for hours (and he has). He loves being able to bring you orgasm after orgasm with just his tongue and fingers. And a bonus is that he gets to have his head between your thighs; it’s honestly his happy place.   

P – Pace (fast & rough? slow & sensual? etc.)  

It all depends on what leads up to the moment. If you two have been away on missions, coming back to each other is going to be hard, and rough, and fast. Just desperate to be able to feel each other again.   

If it’s an early, lazy more or if you’ve had a romantic date, then it’s soft, sensual. He takes his time with you, makes sure you feel loved and appreciated.  

Q – Quickies (opinion on quickies, how often, etc.)  

Bucky isn’t opposed to quickies, but he prefers to take his time with you. Although, that doesn’t mean that he won’t fuck you in the bathroom during a Stark party or in the locker room of the training room. When you two are feeling it, there’s nothing that gets in your way.  

R – Risk (is he risky? Is he willing to experiment? etc. )  

Bucky doesn’t mind trying new things as long as it’s been discussed before. He cares so much about your safety and wants you to be comfortable above all else. So, if everything has been addressed beforehand, he’s down to do a lot and in many places.   

S – Stamina (how many rounds, how long does it last, etc.)  

Bucky has that super soldier serum running through his veins. He can go all night without even needing a water break. But he makes sure that you’ve cared for and that he doesn’t push you too far. Not everyone can keep up with his stamina, but you try, and for that, he appreciates you.   

T – Toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on partner or self? etc.)  

Bucky feels like toys can be give or take. He doesn’t need them to have a good time, but they can add to the fun. However, they’re not used all that often on you, but on him. With his stamina, you like to use them to your advantage and get a few rounds out of him.   

U – Unfair (how much does he like to tease)  

An absolute tease. But it goes both ways. Sometimes the two of you will have competitions to see who breaks first (spoiler: most of the time, it’s you).   

V – Vocal (how loud is he, what does he say, etc.)  

At first, Bucky wasn’t too vocal, but the longer you two were together, the more comfortable he got. And now, he’s loud, always letting you know how good you feel. Some of his go-to sayings are: “you take me so well, doll, like you were fucking made for me”, “ugh yes, just like that, keep going darling”, “gonna fill you up ’til you’re dripping with my cum sweetheart”.  

W – Wild Card (random hc)  

Bucky would love to be a father. And even though he knows it’s not going to happen soon, he has a bit of a breeding kink, and it shows when the two of you are together. He will cum in you over and over, getting off on the idea that he could be getting you pregnant.   

X - X-Ray (what’s going on below the belt)  

Bucky is a good seven inches, or so (and girthy). He’s also cut and has a thick vein that runs on the underside of his cock that pulses when you have him in your mouth.   

Y – Yearning (how high is his sex drive)   

He’s quite deeply in love with you, and physical touch is big for him, so he constantly wants you. He’s ready at all times but also fine with just cuddling or being close to you.  

Z – zzzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterward) 

 He’ll wait for you to fall asleep first because he likes to see how calm you look when you sleep. Then, after a few minutes, he’ll give you a kiss on your forehead and spoon you while he tries to fall asleep. He doesn’t dread sleep as much anymore because since you’ve been by his side, his nightmares have left him alone.  

a/n: this is my first time writing nsfw so it’s probs not that great, also feel free to add your own opinions and headcanons of bucky! also wrote this at 2 am and did not proof read so sorry for any mistakes! hope you enjoy! im also open to any requests you might have cuz im a bit low on ideas rn

taglist: @lavenderlover9 // @whothehellisbuckybarnes // @saidrolav // @myguiltypleasures21 //  @rainypaintertoadplaid // @golden-barnes // @propertyofpoeandbucky // @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love​​ // @openforjean​​ // @yelenabeloveme​

add yourself to my taglist :)

Hi! Would u mind doing NSFW J for art? Congratulationssss :)

of course i don’t mind!!! thank you so much for sending in a request lovely lovely anon (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

j is for jack off | art donaldson

warnings: explicit sexual content, masturbation (male), edging, pillow humping, praise kink (self-praise), voyeuristic habits, whimpering, slightly messy cleanup, soft post-nut feelings, lonely undertones, emotionally charged self-touch, ambiguous sexuality

tags: @destinedtobegigi, @pittsick, @bambiangels, @talsorchard, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe, @lovefaist, @won-every-lottery, @zionna

Art’s dorm bed creaks like it’s remembering something every time he moves. Too narrow, too warm, too full of his own goddamn thoughts. He keeps the overhead light off even when the sun starts going down—lets the room stay honey-dim, just amber lamplight slanting in from the hallway under the door. It’s not about shame. Not really. He just needs quiet. Control. A kind of ritual.

His jeans are already halfway down his thighs when he shuffles under the covers, his skin still hot from the cheap dorm shower. Hair damp at the temples, T-shirt clinging to his back, everything about him soft and flushed from the heat. He moves slow. Always slow. This isn’t a race—never is. Art likes to feel it. Draw it out. Drag himself toward the edge and back again until he’s panting into his pillow, hips twitching, legs stiff and useless from holding tension too long.

Tonight, he’s hard before he even touches himself.

There’s a folded towel under the top pillow already—he keeps one ready like it’s part of the process. His cock slips between the two stacked pillows, one on top of the other, and he shudders the second his hips dip forward. His thighs tense. His hands grip the mattress tight on either side of his hips, knuckles pale. He rocks forward gently, just enough to feel friction. It’s hot. Just warm enough. The cotton cover a little scratchy against the head of his cock, but he likes it. Likes that it feels like something. Likes the resistance.

“Fffuck…” he breathes into the mattress, voice shaky. His lips are pressed to the sheets, parted, drooling a little. “Shit, that’s… fuck, that’s good—”

It starts slow, like it always does. A grind, a little rut, just testing. His cock drags along the inside seam of the pillowcase, catching on the soft patch of fabric near the tag. He breathes in through his nose, moans out through his mouth. Quiet at first. Then breathier. Higher. Little whines pushing up into the dark as his hips start to stutter.

“Hnnn, fuckfuckfuck, mmngh—”

He doesn’t even need porn, not always. But sometimes—when he really needs it—he drags out the old laptop, the one with the weird fan whirring in the corner. Balances it on the floor, tilted up just enough to see two men fucking slow, messy, close. Intimate. He watches with his cheek squished into the pillow, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth slack. His hips keep moving. Thrusting soft and rhythmic like he’s syncing up with the guys onscreen. When one of them moans, Art moans with him. Like he’s there.

But most nights, it’s just his voice he listens to.

“Good boy,” he whispers. A breathless mantra. “Good boy, good boy, good—fuck—good boy, yeah…”

His voice lifts when he says it, like he’s outside himself, trying to believe it. Trying to be it. High and hushed and wrecked, the kind of sound you only make when you’re alone. He says it more when his cock starts to twitch, when his thighs start to cramp and his breath catches at the top of his chest.

“You’re doing so good, Artie. So good, fff—fuck, such a good boy, keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

Sometimes he teases himself. Stroking slow, stopping before the edge, pulling back to pant into the sheets until the tight coil in his gut eases again. Then he starts over. He’ll do it four, even five times before he lets himself tip over. He doesn’t care how long it takes. Time disappears when he’s like this. He can spend an hour grinding between pillows, thighs slick with sweat, pillowcase dark with precum. He gets wet when he’s worked up—soaked head, sticky shaft, every movement a slick glide that makes his toes curl.

When he gets close, his body tenses like a wire drawn taut. Breath quick and high and fluttering. His hips lose rhythm. He ruts up once, twice, three times hard into the pillows, groaning like he’s splitting apart. The last stroke always knocks something loose—his voice goes thin and pitchy, whispering a broken, “G’nna come, gonna—gonna fuckin’—fuuuck—” just as he spills.

His orgasm hits with a full-body jerk, thighs clamping tight, heels digging into the mattress. He whines, loud, into the pillow. Something between a gasp and a sob. All air and relief. The kind of sound no one’s ever supposed to hear.

He goes still after. Just for a minute. Face mashed into the towel, arms loose, cock still twitching between his thighs. His breath puffs out slow and uneven. He doesn’t move, not yet. Lets it all cool around him. He sleeps best after coming like that. Real sleep. Deep and quiet. Sometimes he doesn’t even bother getting up—just slides the pillows away, rolls onto his side, and sighs. A soft, dreamy sound. His face pressed to the mattress, fingers curled loosely under his chin like a kid.

When he does clean up, it’s gentle. Quiet. He pads to the sink with the towel bundled against his bare stomach, rinses it out under warm water, never cold. Folds it again like he’s making a hospital corner. He wipes himself down with a wet washcloth, tip still sensitive, hips twitching if he’s too quick. He doesn’t rush. Even now. Still a little dazed, cheeks pink, lips wet from mouthing into the sheets.

He never talks after. Doesn’t need to. Just hums under his breath as he sinks back into the bed. Bare chest, boxer briefs pulled back on. Sheets cool now. Arms tucked around a pillow. He sleeps like he’s been held—soft and small and vulnerable. Face buried, breath even, lashes dark against his cheek.

No dreams. Just calm.

Art Donaldson doesn’t fuck himself to forget. He does it to feel good. To feel loved, even if it’s just his voice saying it.

Even if no one hears him whisper, “good boy” into the dark.

referring to your alphabet challenge, can you please write nsfw o for patrick zweig? thank u angel

i like the way u think anon 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ of course i can

PATRICK ZWEIG | NSFW ALPHABET | O = ORAL (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader / vulva-bodied!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, morning sex, cunnilingus, excessive oral fixation (receiving), beard soaked in slick, hair pulling, sleep/groggy sex (fully consensual), post-orgasm intimacy, sensory detail overload, language

tags: @destinedtobegigi, @pittsick, @bambiangels, @idyllicdaydreams, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe, @lovefaist

Mornings with Patrick Zweig aren’t quiet, but they’re soft. Golden. His version of peace doesn’t come in silence—it comes in warmth. In his arm draped heavy around your waist. In the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, his breath a slow rhythm warming the back of your neck. He sleeps shirtless, always has, skin sun-warmed and smooth except for the scatter of hair across his chest. And when he wakes, it’s never all at once.

He stirs like he’s reluctant to leave the dream. Groggy. Gravel-voiced. His thigh slides between yours, and his palm finds your stomach, pulling you in closer with a low, sleepy groan like gravity’s trying to keep you pressed together. He doesn’t speak for a while. Just breathes you in, his nose buried behind your ear, lips brushing the curve of your shoulder.

And then—eventually—there’s that question, mumbled like a secret between lovers. “Can I do somethin’, baby? Please?”

He doesn’t wait for full sentences—he doesn’t need them. The nod of your head, the soft arch of your back, the slow parting of your thighs in sleepy consent is all the answer he needs. And Patrick moves like he’s done this a hundred times before. Because he has. And still? It never loses its magic for him.

He turns you onto your back like you’re precious cargo. Reverent. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, lashes thick, that mussed mess of dark curls sticking in every direction. His beard’s grown in more lately—he doesn’t always shave on off-days—and it’s scratchy-soft against your inner thighs by the time he gets there, mouth trailing slow, open kisses down your body like every inch of you’s worth his full attention.

And you are. To him, you always are.

Your fingers find his hair like it’s second nature, threading through the sleep-warmed curls, and when you tug—just a little, testing, grounding yourself—he groans low and deep, his mouth still pressed to the soft skin of your stomach.

Then he laughs. Quiet, warm, wrecked. “Christ.” It’s whispered more to himself than to you, a gravel-rich hum before he noses between your thighs. “This pussy’s made for me.”

It doesn’t sound like a line. It’s not smug. It’s reverent. Like he’s reminding himself. And then? No more words. Patrick doesn’t waste time talking once he’s down there—he’d rather use his mouth for something far more important.

He kisses the crease of your thigh first. Then the other. His hands are steady on your hips, palms big and grounding as he pushes your legs further apart. It’s instinct now—how he adjusts his body, spreads your thighs, settles in like this is his natural habitat. Like he was born for this. For you.

And then his tongue is on you. Hot. Wet. Precise.

He licks you like he’s been thinking about it since he fell asleep the night before, dragging his tongue through your folds with slow, lazy strokes—up, then down, then up again, finishing with a soft suck at your clit that makes your hips jerk. His beard’s already wet. Already slick with your taste, his spit mixing with your slick in a mess he doesn’t even try to control. He’s patient, but he’s ravenous. Every moan you make feeds him. And every time your thighs twitch around his head, his grip tightens.

He’s not performing. There’s no flourish in his technique. He’s just… eating. Committed. Focused. Every movement of his mouth is deliberate. Every circle of his tongue against your clit is measured with expert pressure. He licks into you slow, groaning when you clench, like he’s memorizing the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you come undone. He keeps his mouth open enough to breathe but sealed around you enough to hum low and filthy into your cunt, sending vibrations right through you.

And when you yank hard on his curls—fingers tangled, knuckles white—he groans loud. That sound rips through him and into you, and he doesn’t pull away. He laughs again, right into your pussy, breathless and feral, like he’s high off the way you taste.

Then it’s all tongue again. No teasing. Just commitment.

Patrick stays quiet except for the sounds—sloppy licks, wet groans, the occasional soft inhale when he pulls just far enough back to breathe, only to bury himself deeper again. His mouth never strays. He doesn’t look away. His hazel eyes are locked on you, glassy and adoring, blinking slow as he keeps going and going until you’re trembling around him, thighs over his shoulders, your slick dripping down his beard and onto the sheets beneath him.

He doesn’t let up when you cum. Not even close.

He drinks you in. Laps at your orgasm like he’s pulling it out of you with every pass of his tongue. He flattens his mouth and swirls his tongue around your clit, groaning with satisfaction when you gasp, your back arching off the bed. It’s so much. It’s everything. And he holds you through it—mouth locked to your core, hands tight on your hips as your body jerks, your thighs clamping around his head in frantic aftershocks.

He doesn’t come up until you physically tug him, breathless and overstimulated, your fingers tugging at his curls as a signal that you need to breathe.

When he finally surfaces, he looks ruined. Hair wild. Beard soaked. Lips swollen. Eyes glassy with pure fucking devotion. He drags his mouth up your stomach, kissing a path back to your lips, and when he kisses you—sloppy, hot, deep—you taste yourself all over his mouth. His tongue slides against yours and he hums like he’s giving you a gift.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you again, more tender this time. “Could do that every day. Every goddamn day.”

And you notice it then—his boxers are soaked through. There’s a dark patch right over his cock, and he hasn’t touched himself once. He came just from eating you out. Just from your pleasure. From being buried between your thighs, surrounded by your sounds, your heat, your slick.

He doesn’t mention it. Just grins against your neck and then, without a word, he gets up.

Patrick’s already halfway to the kitchen before you sit up, dazed, watching him tug on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. His back’s broad, muscles shifting as he grinds the coffee beans, slices fruit, cracks eggs into a pan. You can still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm in your legs while he sets your coffee down on the nightstand with his usual crooked smile.

“You need somethin’ sweet after that,” he says, brushing a kiss to your hair, the scent of you still lingering on his lips. “Didn’t wanna interrupt your morning. Just figured I’d help you start it right.”

You’re still too wrecked to answer. And he loves that.

Because for Patrick, oral isn’t just foreplay. It’s a ritual. A privilege. And you? You’re the only person he wants to worship like that, every goddamn day.

hiiiiiii my lovely lovely LOVELY elowyn (sorry, i'm ur biggest fan) would you cook up something about Y from the nsfw alphabet with art for me? there's no one better suited for this🧚🏼‍♀️

HIIII TAL of course i can 😼

ART DONALDSON | NSFW ALPHABET | Y = YEARNING (how high is their sex drive?)

Art Donaldson’s sex drive wasn’t something he bragged about.

It wasn’t the kind of thing he’d ever wanted to talk about out loud because it wasn’t about numbers, wasn’t about proving anything. It wasn’t about conquest or some shallow kind of ego trip. It was about you. And it always had been. He was just built like that, wired to want what he loved, and he loved you so much it hurt sometimes.

It wasn’t the sharp kind of lust people threw around like a party trick—it was this low, steady ache in his bones, a yearning that lived under his skin and made itself known in the smallest, stupidest moments. You’d bend down to grab a glass from a low shelf and his stomach would flip. You’d be curled up in his hoodie on the couch, hair mussed and bare legs tucked under you, and he’d feel it hit him so hard he’d have to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning out loud. He wanted you in ways that felt almost embarrassing.

And it wasn’t about getting off. It was about getting close. About having your breath in his mouth and your heartbeat pressed against his chest and your skin warm beneath his hands and feeling like if he could just touch you, kiss you, hold you, the ache would quiet down for a while.

He’d told you once, half-drunk on cheap wine, his head in your lap while you absently played with his hair, “You drive me insane, you know that? It’s like… I think about you all the time. I mean all the time. Not just in a sexy way, though God, yes, in that way too. But like… in a ‘can’t breathe right when you’re not in the room’ kind of way.” And you’d laughed softly, not teasing, not mean, just this gentle, fond sound that made him want to crawl inside your chest and live there.

You tugged lightly at his hair and murmured, “Good.” And he’d let out a shaky breath and kissed your wrist like you were the thing holding him together. Because you were. You always had been. And it didn’t matter how many times he got to have you, how many nights he buried his face in your neck and lost himself in the feeling of your body under his — it was never enough. Not in a desperate, frantic way. In a tender, aching, reverent way.

He was greedy for you. Could never seem to get close enough. And God, he was so gentle about it most of the time, kissing every inch of your skin like it was sacred, whispering against your ear, “Let me, please,” and he meant it every time. It wasn’t about fucking. It was about loving you in the closest, deepest, most physical way he could.

And he wasn’t built for quick, emotionless hookups. He needed the stretch of hours, the lazy roll of bodies tangled in sheets, the kind of nights where you made love slow until you both forgot where one of you ended and the other began.

His sex drive was high as hell, embarrassingly so sometimes, and it didn’t take much for you to turn him into this lovesick, touch-starved mess. You’d just have to crawl into his lap and whisper something half-nice in his ear and he was gone, rutting against you, lips everywhere, voice all rough and low, “Baby, you don’t know what you do to me.”

But because he loved so hard, because he poured everything he had into you every time, he wasn’t the kind of man who could turn around and do it again ten minutes later. He needed time. Not because he didn’t want to — Fuck, did he want to — but because loving you like that, having you like that, it left him blissed out and trembling, clinging to you in the dark, whispering, “I swear, I could die like this,” with his face buried against your skin. It was the kind of connection that left his bones feeling like smoke, the kind of pleasure that crept into his soul and left him undone.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he’d mumble against your skin, all heat and breath and love, so much love it scared him sometimes.

And you’d just kiss his temple, tell him he was dramatic, and he’d grin like an idiot because you had no idea, no fucking idea what you did to him. It wasn’t about the mechanics of it, wasn’t about positions or tricks or counting how many times. It was about having you in his arms, under his mouth, letting him worship you the only way he knew how. He’d wake you up at two in the morning just to kiss you, just to press his body against yours, just to murmur, “Missed you,” like you’d been gone a week instead of asleep beside him.

Because that was Art Donaldson. A man whose sex drive wasn’t driven by lust but rather by a need to be near you, to feel you, to love you in ways words could never reach. A man whose body ached with it, not because he was starved but because you made him so full he didn’t know what to do with it all. And he would want you every day for the rest of his life — not out of habit, not out of routine, but because you were his favorite thing he’d ever known, and loving you in every possible way was the only thing that made sense anymore.

congrats on 100 elowyn!!!!! you so deserve it, gonna request M from nsfw alphabet and would I be possible do this artrick? if not just patrick is fine🙂‍↕️

tysm mel 🥹💝 i’ll whip up some artrick for ya

ARTRICK | NSFW ALPHABET | M = MOTIVATION (what turns them on, gets them going)

tags: @destinedtobegigi, @pittsick, @bambiangels, @idyllicdaydreams, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe, @sohighitscool

ART DONALDSON

Art makes sex feel like the warm weight of a promise.

He doesn’t come at you like he’s trying to conquer anything—he approaches like he’s been handed a gift, and he’s terrified of holding it wrong. He’s soft, but not because he’s unsure; it’s because he cares that much.

What turns him on isn’t power, isn’t control, isn’t anything you’d expect—it’s praise. Honest, needy praise. The moment you gasp out a, “Fuck, feels so good, Art,” his whole demeanor shifts, and suddenly he’s hungry in a way that makes your knees weak. He needs to know he’s doing it right, doing it better, making you feel so good that you can’t even remember how to speak. Tell him he’s perfect and he’ll suck a bruise into your thigh, low and trembling and worshipful, like he’s trying to prove he deserves it.

He gives head like it’s his religion, face buried between your legs, licking and moaning like he’s starved, every sound you make pulling him deeper into the rhythm of it, and when you tangle your fingers in his hair and sob his name, he groans, hips grinding against the mattress because getting you off does more for him than anything else possibly could.

He can be rough when you want it—can pin your hands and fuck you slow and deep with his teeth gritted and his praises pouring out—but even then, it’s all in service of you. You tell him he’s the best you’ve ever had and he’ll fall apart in your hands. You tell him you need him and he’ll shake.

And after, he’ll be nothing but warmth—gentle, whisper-quiet, kissing your forehead and wrapping you in his arms, asking if you’re okay even though he’s already gotten you a towel and a bottle of water and is halfway through tucking you in. “You sure I didn’t overdo it?” he’ll ask with that little furrow between his brows, even though your legs are still trembling and your voice is wrecked from screaming his name. All he needs is to hear you say it again. That he did good. That he’s enough. That he’s yours.

⸻

PATRICK ZWEIG

Patrick’s turn-ons are chaos dressed in charm. He flirts with tension the way most people flirt with eye contact, fingers always testing the limits, grin just crooked enough to get away with it. He gets off on being too much—too fast, too close, too smug, too hot, too fucking good at making you react. Bratty as hell, all lip and swagger, Patrick will push you until you snap because what really makes him throb is watching you lose your patience and take what’s yours.

His body is made to be fucked. He knows it, he flaunts it, he dares you to admit it. Slap his ass, spit on his mouth, call him a whore—he’ll moan into it with a bite to his grin, pupils blown wide, head tilted like he’s about to laugh and cry all at once. “You gonna call me names, baby?” he’ll pant, sucking your fingers into his mouth like candy, drooling around your knuckles with that filthy, reverent look in his eyes.

He loves being used, degraded, pinned down and told he’s nothing but a hole to fuck, but he wants it from someone who sees him. Who gets him. That’s where the angel glows through—he’s the devil who blushes when you call him beautiful mid-thrust, the brat who melts when you pull him in and tell him he’s yours.

He switches when it hits right, when the mood turns—one second he’s mouthing off, the next he’s flipping you over, fucking you deep with slow, brutal thrusts and hissing in your ear, “You gonna be good for me now?”—and whether he’s topping or bottoming, he wants it dirty. Wants it wet, messy, obscene. His mouth stays busy—on you, around you, in you—and when he finally comes, it’s loud, full-body, shameless.

Aftercare’s minimal but honest. He won’t do the whole ritual but he’ll hold you, curled against your chest, biting back a sleepy smile while pretending he’s not touched. “You’re obsessed with me,” he’ll mumble, already half-asleep with your fingers in his hair, and when you kiss his forehead he doesn’t flinch—just sighs like he’s never been safer in his life.

hii!!! regarding your alphabet challenge….could you do sfw F for art??! congrats on 100 angel girl 🫂🫂🪽

thank you so much! of course i can 🙂‍↕️

ART DONALDSON | SFW ALPHABET | F = FIANCÉ (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

tags: @destinedtobegigi, @bambiangels, @pittsick, @idyllicdaydreams, @angeldoll1e, @itachisank, @tennisprincess, @lexiiscorect, @esotericgirlwannabe

Art Donaldson wasn’t good at pretending not to want things.

He tried, sure. He kept it cool, made jokes, shrugged it off when you teased him about the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long when you weren’t paying attention. About how he always took the side of the bed closest to the door like he needed to be the one to answer if something bad happened. How he saved you the last bite of dessert without asking, how he kept a little mental list of things you liked without ever saying it out loud.

And for months, he told himself he could just be content like this. That maybe it was too soon to ask for more. That he was desperate, really — and what if you didn’t want that? What if this was enough for you and you weren’t interested in forever, in belonging to someone the way he already belonged to you without even meaning to?

He’d been carrying the ring around in his pocket for three weeks. Not in a box, not even tucked away safely — just loose in his front jeans pocket, where his fingers brushed against it every time he reached for his keys or spare change. The stone was nothing fancy, just a modest vintage piece he found in a little pawn shop out by the old highway, something about it reminding him of you. Soft edges, old soul, stubborn shimmer even when the light hit it wrong.

He kept waiting for the perfect moment.

Some quiet evening at the lake. Or maybe when you were dancing barefoot in the kitchen again, playing some scratchy old record neither of you knew the name of. Or maybe in bed, curled against each other when the world felt small and safe, and he could look at you and say it without his voice cracking.

But it never felt right. Or maybe he was just too chicken shit. Because what if you said no? What if you hesitated?

It ate at him. God, it ate at him.

⸻

It happened on a Wednesday night, in the middle of folding laundry.

Not exactly the stuff of romantic comedy finales. The TV was on in the background, some documentary neither of you were really watching, a storm rattling against the windows. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting socks, hair falling in your face, humming under your breath. And Art looked at you — really looked at you, like his heart had been waiting for the cue to leap out of his chest and now it finally got the green light.

And without even thinking, his voice cracked open like a jar he couldn’t keep shut anymore.

“Marry me.”

You glanced up, a little frown between your brows, sock still in your hand. “What?”

His mouth opened, then closed, and for a second he looked like he might actually pass out. His hands clenched at his sides, his face flushed.

“I mean it,” he said, voice rough, eyes too soft. “Marry me. I’ve been carrying this stupid ring around for weeks, waiting for the right time, and you’re just—” He gestured helplessly toward you, sitting there in one of his old shirts, looking at him like he hung the moon and had no idea how completely you owned him. “God, I love you so much it’s pathetic. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

The air in the room shifted, like the storm outside had slipped its way inside too.

You set the sock down and stood, crossing the short distance between you. Art’s throat bobbed when you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing his. He fished the ring out of his pocket, palm shaking just a little, and held it out, the metal warm from being carried against his skin for so long.

It wasn’t a perfect proposal. No grand speeches. No candles or flowers. Just him and you, the flicker of TV light painting your faces, the scent of rain in the air.

“I love you,” you whispered, voice catching. “Yeah. Yes, Art.”

The relief in his eyes was blinding. He let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years, pulling you into a hug so tight it stole the air from your lungs. His face pressed against your neck, and you felt him smile there, against your skin.

“You’re sure?” he mumbled, words a little muffled. “Because I’ll spend my whole life making sure you don’t regret it.”

You laughed, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, burying your hands in his hair.

“I’m sure.”

That was it. No applause. No witnesses. Just two people in a little apartment, clothes in piles, hearts racing, clinging to each other like salvation.

And the thing about Art — the part you learned long before he ever slipped that ring into his pocket — was that commitment, to him, wasn’t some abstract idea. It wasn’t a word people threw around or a promise made to ease fears. It was everything. It was real and raw and terrifying, and it meant tying himself so completely to another person that it left no room for escape.

Art Donaldson loved hard. Loved like he didn’t know how to do it halfway. Always had. He pretended like he didn’t — kept up that easygoing, good-natured charm, shrugged things off with a grin and a quip — but underneath it all, he was nothing if not a boy who craved being known, being chosen.

And when it came to you, there wasn’t a single part of him that was unsure.

He’d known from the second month you’d started falling asleep on his chest, one hand fisted in the front of his t-shirt, breath warm against his collarbone. Known when you scolded him for letting his coffee get cold because he got too caught up talking about a match he barely remembered playing. Known when you learned how he liked his eggs without asking. Known when you picked out a record he hadn’t played since high school and danced around the kitchen like you belonged there.

So, yeah. He wanted to marry you fast. Probably faster than was sensible, than what people might call proper or careful. If it were up to him, he’d have taken you down to the courthouse that weekend and signed his name next to yours in shaky penmanship, hand sweating against yours the whole time. Would’ve put a ring on you before either of you had time to second guess it, before the world could crawl its way in and try to steal it.

Because commitment wasn’t something Art feared. Not with you. It was the thing he’d been chasing without even realizing it — a steady hand in the dark, a place to land, someone who made him feel like maybe he wasn’t so much a fuck-up, maybe he wasn’t doomed to be restless and lonely forever.

And now, holding you in that living room that smelled like rain and fabric softener, his fingers buried in your hair, he felt it settle in his bones. That aching, all-consuming kind of love. The kind that made him feel both safe and terrified.

“I don’t want a long engagement,” he said quietly, pulling back enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His expression was soft, a little unsteady, and so openly, nakedly in love it made your chest ache. “I mean… we can have whatever you want, okay? Big thing, little thing, courthouse, back yard, Vegas… hell, a barbecue with my old coach and your weird cousins for all I care. But I don’t wanna wait a year or two or whatever people say you’re supposed to do. I want to wake up next to you tomorrow and know you’re mine. I want to start our life now.”

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t a plea. It was just the simple, clear truth of him.

He squeezed your hand, his smile turning crooked. “I’ve been yours since the day you made me watch that dumb movie where the dog dies, and I cried so hard you had to pretend you weren’t laughing.”

You grinned, your heart spilling over, because this was what it was with Art. Not grand declarations or magazine-perfect proposals. Just this — soft, steady, flawed, and good.

“I don’t want to wait either,” you told him, and you meant it.

And he looked at you then like he could breathe again for the first time in years. Like maybe, finally, he was allowed to want something and not have it ripped away.

“Okay,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your temple. “Okay.”

And the world outside could do whatever it wanted. The storm could keep rattling the windows, and the TV could keep playing some documentary neither of you gave a damn about. Because in that moment, in a little apartment with laundry on the floor and love thick in the air, Art Donaldson made a promise to you with his whole heart.

It wasn’t a perfect life, and it never would be. But it would be yours. Together. As fast and as fierce as he could make it.