#I know in the games he's not designed as an old man

[softquietsteadylove]

Currently I'm playing Assassin's Creed Odyssey and whilst playing I'm thinking about the Eternals back then, in Ancient Greece.

So basically i thought about Socrates annoying our Goddess of War. And Thena would never admit she actually likes talking to him.

Hugs and much love!! 🖤✨

"Is the Goddess of War cowering again?"

Thena bristled and glared at the old man, "I do not cower."

He chuckled, though, sitting himself on a rock amongst the olive trees behind the main constructions of Athens' outskirts. "And what to call it then?--you hiding here in the trees?"

She rolled her eyes. The old man was not so insufferable, but he had no problem saying things that made her want to pick him up and rattle him like a barrel. Although she was almost grateful for it in comparison to the obsessive reverence of the rest of Athens.

"Too many demands in the day already, young one?" he asked, raising a frayed, white eyebrow.

She sighed; if only he knew how young he was, to her. "They are discussing the launching of ships. Why this would need my input - let alone approval - is beyond me."

But the old man laughed, letting his walking stick rest against a different rock. Thena eyed the pale length of dead wood. "The senators, as they call themselves, are just as new to this as the idea itself. They have assembled this great counsel and yet they still seek the approval of a higher power. One wonders why they assembled this body to 'speak for the people' if they were going to surrender their decisions to a figurehead in the first place."

Thena let old Socrates ramble on. She typically wasn't one for the musings of man, much preferring her solitude. But the old man hadn't ratted her out yet, and as far as humans went, he was far from the worst. "Have you been postulating again?"

"Bah," he waved his hand through the air, squinting up at the Grecian sun through the olive leaves. "Just a crazy old man, to them."

"And you think you are not, to me?"

"Maybe," he grinned at her with what teeth he had remaining, "but I'm a crazy old man who lets you be, no?"

Thena allowed a faint smile on her lips. "Indeed, you are."

"So then, we seem to have reason for our alliance," he chuckled.

"And you?" Thena asked in an unusual invitation to continue their talking. She summoned a blade to her hand and whittled down his walking stick.

Socrates watched her the same way he watched fisherman haul in their catch; with admiration for the craft, but with no further interest in the act itself. "Hiding from that young tyke."

"Young Plato?" Thena smiled as she sliced the wood cleanly, angling it to form a head for a proper cane. The old man was walking around leaning on this tree length washed up on the shore. "He is fond of Phastos as well."

"Ah, yes, Hephaestus?" Socrates raised his other eyebrow, to which Thena shook her head. "What of your Champion?"

A length of wood went flying.

Thena tossed the properly carved cane back at the man, "what of him?"

Socrates shrugged an increasingly bony shoulder. "You're with him when at all possible, aren't you?"

Thena nearly pouted at the needling - but entirely correct - statement. She huffed, "there are many demands on Gilgamesh."

"Ah yes, Gilgamesh," Socrates laughed, resting his hands outstretched in front of him. "And what do you call him?"

She gave him a somewhat tired glare. She could deny him the rest of his needling and simply leave. But then she ran the risk of an advisor or senator or counsellor - or stars forbid one of the many sculptors searching for her - finding her. She sighed. "Gil."

"Oh."

She glared at him anew, her hackles rising despite her best efforts.

Socrates gave her a look that made her want to chuck him right off their cliff of solitude, "Gil."

She hardened her expression at him, if only to keep her annoyance from boiling over. He said it in a way that made her feel agitated. "Have you not other people to pester?"

"None as fun as you, dear," he laughed heartily, his head tossed back.

Thena huffed again; insufferable old coot.

"And what power does your Gil possess, again?"

She glared at him, but he feigned some effort into remembering, scratching the beard on his chin. "Strength."

"Ah, yes, the fella who can reach into the forges and grasp iron with his bare hands."

No trouble remembering him at all, it seemed. Thena pursed her lips, "indeed."

"They do demand a lot from him," Socrates agreed with her earlier statement at this much later junction. He snuck his eyes - still sharp under the wrinkling of his skin - back over to her with a grin. "Not very fair to you, is it?"

Thena refused to dignify that with a response.

Socrates let out another laugh, and she wondered how many rocks might fit in that wide mouth of his. "That's why you're out here moping?"

The shade of the trees was doing nothing to shield her from the heat of the sun.

"Dearie," he snorted, jabbing her knee with the cane (which she just so-kindly fashioned for him!). "You are the patron saint of Athens. I'm sure if you want to steal your boyfriend all you need do is ask."

Thena flushed further at yet more indignity. "I do not-!"

"Oh, save it!" he drawled at her, in a way no one else in Athens would ever dare. He scratched at something in his ear, "I don't care what you think I think or what you know I know."

She glowered at him.

"There you are!"

Thena looked up, a smile coming over her (whether she wanted it or not). "Here I am."

Gilgamesh pushed an olive branch out of his way to lean on the rock beside her. He nodded to old Socrates, "and good day to you."

"And you, Champion," Socrates gave him a smirk. "We were just speaking of you."

"Oh?" Gil looked at Thena beside him, who was glaring at the old man.

"Have you nowhere else to rest after your ceaseless chatter?"

Gil didn't argue with her. He had seen her and the old philosopher interact a few times before, and it was always funny. Jabs were only ever made in good humour. "Actually, I was hoping to steal the Goddess away with me."

"She's all yours, sonny boy," Socrates stood, stretching out his arms before taking up his newly carved cane. "Don't mind me."

Gil simply nodded to him as he began shuffling past them and into the city. He looked down at Thena, stealing one of her hands off her lap to hold for himself. "Hey."

"Hey," she beamed. The unique relief and comfort of his company truly had reached new heights during their time in Athens.

"Time for a break?" he propositioned, pulling her up from her resting rock, her hand still in his. He brought his head closer to hers, "I packed us a little picnic--you, me, in the orangery?"

Thena kept her eyes on her personal embodiment of solace standing before her. She yearned to curl up in his arms, "divine."

"I thought you weren't one for divination."

"Away with you!" she snapped at the old bastard one again chuckling at her expense. She thunked her forehead against Gil's chest.

"Hey," he chuckled, rubbing her back as he allowed her frustrations. "Come on, he's not bad. As far as humans go, I'd say you're fond of the old guy."

"I am done speaking of him," she sighed, still pressing her warmed skin to Gil's cooling robes. She purred as he pulled her hair over her shoulder, running his fingers through it gently. "I believe you offered sustenance?--and solitude."

[diddlesnap]

this line always shocked me like i always forget peeta's popular because the only friend of his who's ever so much as named is delly. and they were really just friends when they were little kids.

[channnel]

Saw the new designs.. Might as well post this, thing has been on my tab for months.

[chipsncookies]

Chucks my ride kamens ocs at you

My agent oc and dad oc (names tba). Agent was close with dad and was heartbroken when he passed, when she found out his efforts to support the riders she swears to continue it. She wears a chaos stone in one ear and a regular gemstone in the other. She inherited the mask from dad 😺 dad wears the suit for official ceo things and takes off the jacket in the cafe.

Amd some Episode zero sketches

What's wrong, papa? :c

And this one's a joke lol

Erudite man: ‘When will the time come for a world where people will no longer have to put on masks to live, and instead follow the whimsy of their instincts?’ 😂😂😂

[bmpmp3]

give him to me NOW!!!!!!!!!!! or i'll settle for a release date pwetty pwease

[obeymeow]

nightbringer lesson 14 FUCKED ME UP in several ways but primarily I've spent the last 48 hours making myself sad over the solomon backstory we got. specifically I have, for no reason, latched onto that one chapter in the Kids event where baby solomon cried because he felt so guilty over being responsible for that spell. and that just feels a touch more depressing in context

[hauntingblue]

"Would you like me to translate that? Or was it for me?" The show's thesis

[reksink]

for the ask thingy, how bout 4 or 7?

4 - Favorite iterator? MOON. NO CONTEST. She's wonderful, sweet, beautiful, and I love her so dearly I do have to say I am a bit bias because I already really love 'Summoned by tragedy but this chooses to be kind' type characters, but Moon takes everyhting I love about them and expresses them tenfold She was already nice to begin with, that's why she named herself Big Sis Moon after all, and even after all the pain she's gone through, if you're kind to her, she'll be kind to you right back. Which I find so very sweet Especially with her conflict with Pebbles. Even after all the hurt he's caused, even when it's in her right to completely cut contact with him forever, she still chooses to care for her brother. And together, while they're both still doomed, they have each other now. They're still family after all is said and done and I love that so much And I just love how sweet she is the slugcats. I did a pearl-quest on my Survivor run, and while getting all the pearl was incredibly diffcult, the pilgrimage to Moon made it all worth it, hehe. Her dialouge is so charming and is such a treat to read, and they way she talks back to the scug while reading every so often melts my heart. And the way she starts calling them little archaeologist after enough pearl reads is perfect ALSO IN GOURMAND CAMPAIGN WHERE SHE SAID 'My last vistor was even sick' I CAUGHT TEAR. SHE CARES ABOUT THE SCUG, SHE TAKES SO MUCH Also another thing I like it how she's responsive to how you treat her. Again, she's kind if you're kind to her, but if you've hurt her/if you're rude she response to that. That just makes her more grounded to me, that she's a person that's already gone though enough and she won't tolerate rudeness especially in her weakened state A run-up for a favoite iterator would be No Significant Harrasment. I will admit I haven't read all of the brodcasts yet, so I could be missing important information about him, but for now to me he's a silly goofball. A goofball that truly loves and cherishes his friends deeply and is willing to do anything to make sure they're okay I think about his Garbage Wastes brodcast a lot. How he sounds so deseprate and broken hoping for Moon to say something. For her to be okay. I also really like he's talks with Red Sev, they feel like such good friends and they're great comforts for each other during Spear's campaign. Also I have a running joke in my head that he's 'Green Zacharie from OFF'. It makes no else laugh but me, and I've expected this 7 - Favorite in-game creature? SCAVENGERS. I LOVE SCAVS SO MUCH!! Again, very bias pick because I absolutely love observing intelligent life without human (or in this case Ancients) interfence BUT LOOK AT THEM!! Scavs are such smart creatures and their animations and gestures truly reflect that these are intelligent creature worth understanding and loving They have personality, moment to moment goals, fun interacts, and I could wish them for hours OMGA I also feel to special when a scavenger/a groups of scavengers starts following me around. I feel like I'm part of a family, that the scavengers are geniunely interested in my slugcat and want just be around me or protect me Sadly my love for scavengers is the reason why I can never play Artificer's campaign. I can't bring myself to hurt scavenger, when I do it on accident I reset the game pfffff. I can't imagine the heartbreak I'd go through knowing I can't even look at a scavenger without being ready to kill it If I ever finally sit down to do it, I'd love to analysis the art around each Scavenger Toll/Territory. My goal would be to pick apart their artwork and camp layouts to see that it means about the region's cultures. Like what they vaule in their art, what patterns certain patterns could mean, what's similar what's different, the works!! I love scavenger so very much, they're so precious to me, and if we ever get offical merch for them I'd buy like 10, hehe

[zincbot]

i gotta say, 13 hours into omori, i don't get why people call it a horror game

[loregoddess]

so I've been watching the KH Union Cross stuff (in order, thank goodness, this would be so confusing to piece together otherwise), and like, I knew enough about UX that the appearance of the foretellers at the end of KH3 wasn't confusing bc I knew who they all were, but getting the expanded, explained lore and I'm like okay, actually these weirdos in animal masks are pretty cool, glad to know they'll show up (presumably) in future games

also I'm glad that memorizing the Latin names for the seven deadly sins is finally paying off

[golden-stag]

I need to draw my OCs more but i got Guilty Gear on the brain so what if I just.

Guilty Gear'd one of them?

[nahare-shin]

It’s my Neo 3 but the biggest plot twist is he’s the oldest bc he’s in his 40s.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Feral nights ~! (Woverine x bottom male reader) ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

WC:. 2.7K

Tags: slight knife play(his claws) hair pulling, spit as lube, little to no prep(ass eating is the prep), cabin sex, slight A/B/O dynamics(Logan has ruts) scenting, marking, nesting, feral Logan, age gap (reader is twenty five and Logan is forty four), younger male reader, ass eating, and aftercare ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

A/N this was just a personal smutty one shot for my depraved self after seeing the Hugh Jackman wolverine movies<33

Just moving to a rundown cabin wasn’t your big dream after college to say the least, and here you were a twenty five year old man unpacking boxes from the back of your car and into the little cabin you had bought. Looking over your shoulder across the lake you see another cabin with a man standing outside. One of the main things that stuck out was his excessive body and facial hair, how his hair cut looked like two wolf ears of you squinted from afar, you heard that the cabin across from you was where the wolverine lived but you didn’t think much of it.

Looking away quickly as you scurry off into your cabin trying to not think nothing of the man while you settle into your cabin, the weeks to follow ever since the first glance of eye contact you can’t deny there is tension and what you’re reading as upset from the brooding man but was actually sexual but it’s not your fault he was a hard men to read.

Later that evening you just finished setting up your room, right as you were about to move onto the next part of the cabin to set up you see through your bedroom window Logan outside in his front yard chopping wood in his signature flannel. You stood paralyzed unable to do anything but watch how the older man’s biceps flex when he swings his axe, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows giving a peak of his arm hair making you wonder about what the rest of his body must look like.

Chewing on your bottom lip until he looks up from what he was doing making your eyes meet. You soon close your curtains and get out of view of the window all embarrassed pushing it aside and moving on to the res of your cabin as you go and start setting up more.In the weeks you’ve been in your new cabin after that incident you’ve only ran into him a handful of times in the only grocery store around the small town or when you wave at him from across the lake only returning with a grunt and a little nod before he goes back to chopping wood.

The day went normal, long day and seeming longer nights in this area. That was until you seen from the bedroom window of the cabin, your Logan walking towards yours, confused how he even made it across the lake you walk towards the front door opening it up all confused wearing a random shirt you had designated to nightwear and a pair or pajama pants with a video game character from a random game you played on them.

“Can I help you sir?…” murmuring out as you look up at Logan “I see the way you’ve been lookin at me bub” he grumbles out nearly heaving all pressed to the door frame of your cabin doorway nearly towering you over.

“What?, I didn’t know I was looking at you any sorta way sir…” You speak out almost like you were teeth to convince yourself that, while you haven’t been admittedly looking at him you couldn’t deny you always thought he was attractive, he’ll he was the face that flashed in your head when you reached your climax and you were ashamed of that fact. “Don’t lie bub, I seen how ya look at me through yer window, eyin me up N’ down like that” he speaks unconvinced with his accent peeking through the words he spoke.

“Just tell me what you’re doing here this late sir?” You don’t bother denying further just giving a sigh as you look up at Logan although you never caught his name, you never really spoke enough to ask it. “Logan, just call me that, I’m not your ‘sir’” Logan huffs as you look down at him noticing a bulge throbbing between his muscular thighs making a sticky spot of pre cum in his sweat pants, despite the cold weather he wore a tank top half opened with a flannel jacket you thought only a lumberjack would wear.

“You never answered my question Logan?” You raise a brow trying to seem firmer than you really were when you spoke. His nostrils flare a little when he sees your neck craning up to him making a audible groan leave his lips not waiting any further “always teasin me with them little f’ckin smiles and waves actin like a slut round me” he grabs you up the door behind him in your apartment slammed shut as you feel his face in your neck with his canines nibbling at your Adam’s apple “I wasn’t teasing you I was being a good neighbor—“ your voice cut off by your hand gripping and pulling at his hair making him let out what you thought were growls?

Pulling you all the way through the cabin with him eager to get you in a bed, him in the middle of rut going nearly insane from the smell of you. When he lays you down in the bed you look up at him confused why he was using all the pillows and blankets to surround you like a bird in its nest. “What are you doing?” You manage to speak out looking up at him when you start pulling your pajama pants down kicking them off past your ankles trying not to focus too much on his hairy pecs when he gets undressed “boxers off face down and ass up bub”

“Fine, fine” you muffle out as you roll over onto your stomach planting your knees in the mattress not even bothering to take off your shirt as you shove your face in the pillows wracking one hand back to pull your boxers down for him, your asscheeks exposed with your hole hidden between them making you shiver a little when you feel a rough hand pressed to your ass cheek pulling them apart showing off your pink bud as it winks at him.

Your cheeks reddening when you feel him leaning down his breath hot agaisnt your sensitive furl “don’t go shy on me now bub” he heaves out a little hurrying his face between your cheeks using his tongue eating you out like a starved man moving his jaw with his hands kneeling your ass cheeks til red making your cock press to your lower abdomen making it leak precum.

“Fuck Logan—“ you groan biting agaisnt your pillow making your eye go wide when you feel a sharp sizzle on your hips feeling his claws poking from his knuckles from how tight he gripped hold of your ass not letting you move as his tongue pushes past your rim licking and lapping your inner walls as his canines pinch at your inner asscheeks. “Mh- tastes so f’ckin good bubs”

Logan keeps pinching your asscheeks like a cat pawing at its bed with his claws barely poking from his knuckles poking your hips making shallow scratches while his tongue fucks your hole giving your inner walls a harsh lick. “Lo-gan keep doing that~” a mewl leaves your lips trying to press your thighs together failing as his head keeps them open.

“Hold still f’me” murmuring as his tongue works against you rim having your cock all hard between the bed and your stomach as you bite into the pillows arching your back and pressing your ass further into his face while your hands tug the corner of the sheets. Your hips loosely dripping blood from where his claws cut you, “can’t take it any more bubs” a rigid grunt escapes Logan as his spit runs down your thighs from the way he sloppily ate your ass.

“Fck’me logan~” you whine laying now almost as desperate as he was easing your ass as much as you can arching your back like a cat not even thinking of the pain your tender hips and asscheeks feel “I plan on it..” his hands move off your ass cheeks after delivering each one a harsh slap gripping your hips as he flips you back over on your back pulling the pillow from your mouth “ain’t you so fck’n hard bubs?”he murmurs pulling his sweatpants off revealing no boxers with his cock hard covered in brown pubic hair leaking precum from his tip as he leans down between your thighs pressing his lips on yours practically eating your face off making you feel his beard scratching at your chin.

Your cocks pressed together between both of your stomachs rubbing as he rocks his hips forward in a humping motion kissing you between grunts holding hold of your hips where his claws broke skin “ready fer me?” He huffs out moving his hand down further to your thigh while he lifts one of them up on his hip before hoisting it up on his shoulder making his cock snake between your cheeks nudging your rim teasingly but never pushing in.

“I’m- ready Logan” you nod hazily batting your lashes up at him nosing a little too eagerly hook your other leg around his hip while he slides his hand down your thigh rubbing your ankle with his other hand placed firm on your hip “fck—yer so tight bubs” a pant leaves his lip when he pushes his cock into you with it resting heavy agaisnt your prostate making you arch your back biting on your lip looking up at him “oh—hm!” A moan escaped your throat as you feel his hairy stomach pressed down on your cock while he lays on top of you bending your body in half using his hands to hoist up your other thigh for a better shot at your prostate.

“Fuuck” a long groan escapes Logan’s mouth as he grunts shoveling his face in the side of your neck using his canines to bite at it holding your ankles tightly as he starts to circle his hips fucking you into the sheets making your hand move from the bedsheets to his hair “m—more Logan” you spoke right in his ear all whiny and high pitched with your bud trying to clench tighter around him harshly as your gummy walls heat like a vice around the mutants dick, his teeth marking your skin showing his rut as he grounds his hips into you harshly “like that bub? Hm? Fck’n tell me how my dick feels” he huffs out all animalistic starting to pick his pace up making you dig your nails into his back with your legs bent over his shoulders bouncing and swaying back and forth with the force of his thrusts.

“Feels good Logan!—oh god~” you gasp beneath him your body bent in half under the older mutants weight with the bed in your cabin creaking filling the room with the sound of skin on skin as your ass cheeks get all rosy from the constant abuse his hips give them. “Tight bub, so fck’n tight” he growls right into your neck making your eyes roll back not minding the feral man on top of you as you use one hand clawing his back and the other in his hair feeling his beard in the crook of your neck while he makes out with it messily snapping his hips stretching you open over and over with his cock head assaulting your prostate surely bruising your sensitive bundle of nerves

He reaches his hand off your thighs moving around between them as he holds them around his hips and pulls up your t shirt just watching your pecs bouncing back and forth with his thrusts before he just shoves his face in them and starts sucking at your right nipple groping your left pec as he rapidly thrusts his hips “Fuck look at those tits bubs, so fuckin pretty~”. Logan heaves out rubbing his now sweaty body to yours like a wolf trying to rub its scent on its mate, You have no time to protest his choice of words feeling your thighs tremble and a loud mewl leave your lips when his cock hits your sweet spot straight on making a coil of heat radiate in your stomach straight to your cock as it pulses.

“I’m cl—ose Logan!” You choke out your eyes glossing up as you hold his hair tighter gripping hold of his back for dear life with your thighs now wrapped fully around his hips holding him deep inside yourself as you stare up at the Celine in your cabin feeling his mouth biting at your nipple his large hand groping at the other “cum, cum for me bubs” a rumble falls from his throat pulling his cock fully put before slamming back into you making his claws come out of his knuckles breaking skin on your left pec making a hot sting break through your body pushing you over your edge.

“Hng~! Haah—“ your hand loosens in his hair and on his back losing your grip going totally limp under him letting your vision blur with your tears and bliss as your cock squirts hot semen on Logan’s stomach with a harsh spasm emptying yourself out as the cock inside your ass keeps moving and violating your insides rearranging your guts. Your thighs quivering around him feeling the Wolverine groaning against your chest leaving it as sore as your clawed up hips.

“Right there with ya bub..” panting on top of you with his full bod weight between your thighs while your inner walls clench and unclench around him over and over in aftershock from your own high as he starts thrusting out of pace collapsing on top of you trembling “ga’dd amm baby” he groans not even bothering to pull out wanting you filled up with every essence of him as he lets the molten liquid paint your prostrate “mh so warm-!” A pout coming from you as you reach your hand back down weakly petting at his head feeling your stomach grow all warm from his cum.

“..thanks Fer that bub..” he murmurs out planting a few soft kisses on your swollen nipples then one on the cut his claw like blades made in your skin. “No problem Logan, although I’ll be expecting a date before you fuck me next time” you hazily speak looking down at his face in your chest watching him before you feel him rusting around in the sheets with the best he made earlier half fallen apart from the sex. “I think I can manage that, now where are the rags we needa get’cha you cleaned up” he cracks a rare grin showing off those pearly canines to you making a slight pout when his cock slides out of you leaving your walls trying to clamp around the air, your rim as red as your cheeks all puffy leaking his seed into your sheets.

“Top drawer to the left Logan…” you muffle out trying to adjust yourself in the now empty bed rolling over on your stomach laying with your arms folded under your chin looking as Logan walks still naked grabbing a rag from the bathroom cabinet as you stare the best you can at his muscular thighs and happy trail. “Stop eye fucking me you litter whore” he grumbles out walking back into the room with the wet towel sitting down on the edge of the bed using the damp wash clothe to wipe off the cum from around your rim as it leaked making you shiver at the feeling, his hands working and wiping off the dried droplets of blood from the cuts on your hips.

“Right sorry” You mumble out as you crawl over to him after he throws the rag to your floor discarding it for the night as he grabs you pulling you closer under his arm not mind his underarm hair while you lean your head down into his hairy chest grabbing one of the blankets from his makeshift nest as you curl up in it snuggling with the older mutant while he presses his chin to the top of your head “think we should do this a’gain bubs” he hums with a gravely voice.

[yanderenightmare]

All For One

TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, captive reader, mind deterioration

fem reader

All For One has a habit of subjugating you for his own pleasure. 

It’s a game he likes to play—quite like chess, only… you start off with a single pawn, and you don’t know any of the rules. And he’s been world champion ten years in a row. And he plays dirty.

Tonight, he’s dressed you up in a costume. Not any old Halloween costume, but a slutty one. Not a playboy bunny or a maid, nor a schoolgirl—this was worse—a sleazy rendition of your old hero uniform.

You’d barely recognized the faintly familiar design when he first laid it out on the bed for you. Silly and naïve, you thought his games of derision would end when you finally offered your submission, but that was a fool’s thought. What fun were you if not proof of his undying victory—a reminder, a trophy, a relic?

It’s beyond degrading. Tight and revealing. Less than an actual costume, it was more something one would wear in the bedroom, cosplaying for some fantasy starring an overly sexualized you. Only God knows where he’d gotten it from.

Your steel armor, once with the dignity of a knight, had instead been swapped out for a silly silver bikini—the shimmery fabric tacky and cheap, allowing your nipples to peak forth. Covering it was a top and a skirt made up of silver chains, which only further mocked the appearance of chainmail—looking more like the jewelry a stripper might wear.

He’d forgone your helmet, boots, and sword entirely. Truly, if it weren’t for the detailing of the pattern making the fabric vaguely resemble plated armor, it wouldn’t have been much different from any other set of lingerie.

And still, it’s just similar enough to make it sting.

“Look at you...” he jeers, his voice sodden with taunt—carmine stare faded and gleeful, thoroughly enjoying it. “What a sight for sore eyes.”

He stands behind you in the mirror, holding you delicately by the hips, intimately close, dressed in another one of his black suits, fully clothed in devastating contrast to you. His smile curls as he roams your ill-covered body, kissed with the flush of chagrin, leering at you in the reflection—his voice slithering right by your ear.

“Though I can’t say I remember it being quite so revealing, can you?” he jokes, running his hands up and down your waist, fiddling some with the intricacies—metal daintily clinking and clangoring. “No, there’s something else that’s different...”

You feel so humiliated, so small—as if he could hold you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. It isn’t just a feeling—you’re well aware that he most likely could.

“Why yes, of course…” he hums with delayed realization—you know he’s faking for anticipation, chittering while wrapping his thick arms around your tiny midsection, giving you a firm squeeze. “You’ve lost all muscle.”

It’s a painful truth. You don’t know how many months it’s been. Perhaps a year has passed already, maybe even more. He keeps you well aware of his triumph in the outside world, but time still eludes you.

You’d tried maintaining it in the beginning, even after he’d taken your quirk. You’d been vigilant, keeping up your workout regimens just as religiously as before. But you couldn’t pick what you ate, nor when—and he’d only feed you cake. It wasn’t long before all your hard-earned muscles had melted away like popsicle syrup off the stick, licked and lapped right up by the man holding you.

“Mmh, yes…” he murmurs gratingly while swaying you back against him, lips pressing against your ear. “And it’s left you oh-so-soft.”

His bulbous crotch slots against your upper ass, resting there as it grows fatter and warm—a sign of his enjoyment. The weight of him makes you feel all but paper-thin.

His voice rasps now. “If I were to give you your quirk back, I wager you wouldn’t even be able to use it anymore—it would sooner rip your poor limbs apart.”

It’s beyond cruel to suggest—as if disgracing your old costume wasn’t enough torment already. You bite your lip, gnaw it harshly—don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“Isn’t that just fascinating?” He gives your earlobe a gentle bite, and the whimper in your throat springs free like prey out of hiding.

A sniffle shortly followed—along the dribble of the night’s very first tears. Your diminished spirit has made you all too prone to cry as if there’s nothing else for you to do but indulge in the small comfort it gives.

“Oh, sweetie—don’t weep over prowess long since lost. It was never enough to challenge me anyway,” he coos, as if consoling you—swaying your smaller brittle body back against his looming chest, a cage that seemed to swallow you whole.

Steering your jaw, he holds your face still before the mirror, unable to look away as the tears dribble down your sorry cheeks—he smears them further with a kiss.

“The world would chew you up as you are now, fragile like glass.” The grin curling his lips makes you resemble prey caught on a predator’s teeth—you can’t help but shiver at the sight of it. You wish he wouldn’t toy with you like food and just kill you already. “Mark my words, hero—the belly of the beast would not grant you as much comfort as I do.”

His other hand slips down to cup your mound—firmly, with a squeeze that has you curl yourself back against him as he presses two tough fingerpads into your clothed clit, rubbing it tightly enough to make your thighs shake.

“You’re better off like this,” he grunts, snickers at how your weak hands clutch the sleeve of his suit, curling the fabric in your palms until your knuckles whiten—watching the furrow further crease between your cinched brows as you try and bite back your pathetic little sounds even as more tears come tumbling down your swollen cheeks. “Mh, my pretty plaything.”

He makes you continue to look at yourself as he simply slides the panty to the side of your cunt. Encouraging you to place your hands flat against the mirror as he bends you forward, then to step back and stand atop his dress shoes.

“Don’t be shy now,” he makes sure to tell you. “You’re as light and negligible as a feather.”

He parts his feet and yours along with them, spreading your thighs enough to accommodate the fat heat he soon slides between them. Rigid and veiny, it competes with the size of your forearm—so thick that when he slaps it up against your slit, your knees buckle from the impact.

His chuckles rumble across your body like an earthquake. You only realize how much it makes you shake when he encloses your hip in his big hand, steadying you. Holding you still as he drags his engorged cockhead through your lips, catching your clit before resting on your entrance.

You’re so sore from prior nights—countless hours locked in this room with his visits the only thing keeping you company—everything has yet to forgive you for the wreckage those visits leave behind. Your sorry little puss rues and dreads another defeat now as he sinks inside the comfort of your battered walls, one unyielding inch at a time. 

You wince and tense, shoulders bracing, and yet he pushes deeper, sliding you down his shaft until you rest at the hilt of his base, kneading the tip into your gummy womb, giving it a deep kiss that bulges out from your poor belly.

The sight in the mirror is morbid, even more so than the feeling—the way he molds your insides to fit him, to cater and house his length and size. 

“Ah—just perfect, isn’t it, hero?” he purrs, chest resting heavily upon your spine while dwarfing both your hips in a firm grip, chin-stubble scraping along your neck as his voice comes out hot against your ear, “Obedience suits you so well, don’t you agree?”

Your knees buckle once he starts the heavy pace—slowly pounding into you from behind, dragging out and pushing deep in womb-robbing thrusts. You pant from the toll of it, feeling your muscles give—too tired and too broken to continue acting tough. He’s the only reason you’re left upright on your feet—keeping you standing with just his hold on your haunches. It seems like nothing to him, though it feels like the weight of the world to you.

“It’s only a shame it had to come with all these scars.” He clicks his tongue, eyes raking across your body as it takes him, resting on each mark disrupting the otherwise milk-smooth skin. “If only you’d accepted your place sooner.”

The ember burning within you is all but a piece of cooling charcoal now. You feel it diminish every day, leaving you even thinner than before.

“But then again, I quite enjoy you like this—littered with my battle scars from your toes up to your crown. It’s rather intimate, isn’t it?” he hums with a smile. “Proof of all the times I could’ve quashed you beneath my foot like a pitiful bug but decided to spare you. Teach you how to worship like the weak ought to.”

There was a time when you still humored the thought of killing him, even with your quirk taken from you. You thought, in your foolishness, that being this close to him must garner an opportunity, any, however slim, just enough for you to take advantage and finish what you vowed to end so long ago.

Now, you almost don’t care anymore. The world had moved on without you, and there was nothing more you could do about it.

You realize your promise had been as cheap as this outfit.

“The greater the fall, the sweeter the surrender, isn’t that right?” he states. “Doesn’t it feel good to finally accept your place in the world, hero?”

You can only nod your head and agree.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[reyalvr]

RUMORS!

I KNOW YOU HEARD THE RUMORS, YOU MUST GET OVER TO IT RIGHT AWAY!

synopsis ┊ ken sato- a remarkable name in the world of modern baseball- has graced japan with not only his presence, but also his skills as a key player for the yomiuri giants. from press conferences to media endorsements, it’s clear that his stardom has only intensified from his recent move. but what happens when you, his personal assistant, are left to deal with some more… serious rumors?

genre ┊ chaotic fluff, oneshot

pairing ┊ ken sato x gn-PA!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, ami is not the reporter depicted!

word count ┊ 2.2k

author’s note ┊ hiya! i recently found time to watch ultraman: rising and this fic was just writing itself in my head hehe… happy reading! (p.s. yes… the title was inspired from the new minions song)

THREE MONTHS. That was how long you had known baseball’s darling, Ken Sato. And in those three months, you had undergone every single PR nightmare you had ever conjured up in your mind prior to pursuing your career. You had worked with celebrities before- doing God knows what ‘til the waking hour on their every beck and call. But Ken, despite presenting himself as a laid back man, was an entirely new… experience. 

From the Kaiju attack at his first game under the Giants, to the continuous streak of losses throughout the first half of the season, it seemed like the Gods were against you as you did your damndest to handle the damage control on his reputation. His ego didn’t aid you either- having to spin and twist multiple incidents to get reporters and media outlets off his back. You weren’t exactly sure what it was that kept you from quitting all in all, but the longer you worked under him, the thinner your thread seemed to snap. 

You huffed an annoyed sigh into the cold air, picking up the pace as you jogged along the designated path by the bay. Your days off were scarce- not because of Ken’s schedule, but because of your own decision to be up to date with his spontaneous actions. Despite the rarity of solitude, you always managed to savor your time off. The music played at a mellow volume in your ears, the morning sun starting to warm your surroundings as you watched its rays splash hues of orange across the sky. 

Your felt your watch beep against your skin, signaling the end of your morning run. Pausing by the railing, you leaned against the old metal bars as you checked your stats. You swiped absent-mindedly on the screen of your smartwatch, scrolling once you were sure that everything was in order. There was one thing that caught your eye, though, as you noticed the red notification bubbles on your message app were continuously going up. It was odd, yes, but not odd enough to be out of the ordinary- at least in your line of work. 

Deciding not to bombard yourself this early in the morning, you opted to give everything a once-over once you made it back to your apartment. Whatever it was could wait- you were on your time and your pace. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad. Could it now?

IT DEFINITELY COULD, AND IT DEFINITELY WAS. You pushed on the gas as hard as you could, your tongue poking into your cheek as you continued to drive to Ken’s house. Of all the days that he decided to make perhaps the stupidest decision in his career, he chose today. Doing your best not to see red, you dialed his phone once more. The ringing played throughout your car as you maneuvered through the roads, and you swore for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning when you heard the tone of his voice message. 

Hey, it’s Ken. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll be more than happy to ignore it! Said his usual arrogant tone playing before the generic beep. You gripped the steering wheel harder, huffing angrily as you sharply turned a corner. 

“Kenji Sato answer your goddamn phone right now! I’m ten minutes away from your house and when I get there, I better not be greeted with your supposed secret love child!” You yelled, pushing the red button once you finished your message. 

Ah yes. The centerpoint of your current rage: Ken’s “leaked” one-on-one with a reporter about juggling baseball and his homelife. Someone on Ken’s staff had sent the article in your shared work group chat, and nearly all of his personnel had directly messaged you about the issue. It was inevitable for celebrities to get into a scandal once or twice, but one on this level would not be an easy fit to overcome. 

You don’t exactly remember what you were doing prior to receiving the messages- all you knew was that you needed to get to Ken as soon as possible. Of course it just be a misunderstanding, hell it could even be a hoax! But knowing Kenji, anything could be possible. You neared the hill of his private property, driving past the gates as the security recognized your car.

You parked haphazardly at the front of his house, your feet stomping into the gravel as you made your way to his front door. His estate had numerous smart tech installed throughout his home, so you knew that each and every one of your moves were either being recorded or observed. You crouched slightly to be in frame with the doorbell’s camera, your anger slightly toned down.

“Ken.” You paused to narrow your eyes. “Open the door.”

For the next minute and a half you swore you could hear some sort of clash and bang from inside the house. You kept your arms crossed, raising your eyebrow from time to time when the clashing seemed to grow louder. After what felt like an eternity, the front door opened slightly. Not all the way, but just enough for Ken to peek out and smile at you- albeit nervously cocky.

The nerve.

“Hey, [Y/N]! What uh- what are you doing here?” He manages to cough out, roughly combing a hand through his hair. “I thought it was your day o-”

“Save it.” You reply, your gaze sharp enough to slice through whatever excuse he had at the ready. You held up your phone then, the article’s headline prominently bolded:

OUT OF LEFT FIELD: Ken Sato Strikeout? Nope! Love Child Home Run!

Ken’s head bent down to get a good look at what you were showing him, and you watched carefully as his eyes scanned over the article not once, but thrice. You let out an impatient hum, your mouth forming into a slight scowl as the both of you stood in silence. With your head tilted to the side, you dropped your hand back down and crossed your arms. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to start explaining to me what the hell you’ve been up to these past twenty-four hours?” You question, moving past him as you enter the house. 

Usually you would wait for Ken to let you in, but stalling would only hinder you from coming up with what to do next. The article had already been up for two hours, and you halted any statements from being made before you could get an explanation from Ken himself. He quickly tailed after you, nearly stumbling over himself as you stopped at his kitchen. You gripped the marble countertop, closing your eyes momentarily before you turned to face him once more. 

“[Y/N] I swear, it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Ken says as he tries to add reassurance to his tone, but it doesn't mask the lingering tinge of falsehood.

“Oh, really?” You say, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Because in the span of two hours I have had thirty news outlets blowing up my- your management team for a response!”

He opens his mouth to speak, but stops again midway when you continue. “The headline I showed you was local. I want you to tell me exactly how and why you were on the phone with a reporter talking about your private life at God knows what hour. Now.”

You can see him swallow, licking his lips after as he tries to form the right words. He blinks a bit before pinching the bridge of his nose, tilting his head up as he lets out a deep sigh. When he opens his eyes he’s still greeted with your restive stance. Still he remains slightly hesitant, but he does end up recalling the remnants of his conversation with a reporter he had met at one of the parties he attended. Ken goes on to explain that he had only seeked out advice. His schedule, his personal life- he needed an outlet. You can feel yourself slowly untense, though you continued to listen to make sure all your facts were straight.

When he finishes his retelling, he puts his hands up slightly- as if he were trying to put you at ease. “I swear, that’s all I said. I thought,” He pauses, his brows furrowing in a way that made you slightly mad at yourself from blowing up at him. “I just thought I could have a normal conversation for once. ‘Guess I was wrong.”

The warm lights cast a sombre shadow on his features, and from this angle you notice the worn out expression painted on his face. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual, not to mention the fading bruises from his latest altercation with one of players from his opposing team. In front of you was not Ken Sato, this was Kenji; Simply a man who was thrust into a new life without the needed support. 

“Well, no shit.” You say, finally breaking the silence, you fix your posture against the counter as you tone down the anger in your voice. “Jesus Ken, sometimes I wonder how you were able to maintain your career before me.”

At that he lets out a soft laugh, his dull expression slowly fading. “Yeah, I do too.”

You give him a puzzled look before you reply. “Are you mocking me?”

“No! No, I was being serious.” He says, his smile dropping slightly. “I know I haven’t been an easy task, hell you’re here on your day off for Christ’s sake.” 

You hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly as you push yourself off the counter with another awkward cough. In all ninety days of working under Ken Sato, never has the man gotten this sentimental with you. You decide not to linger on his words, your attention going back to the problem at hand. 

“Right, well,” You sigh, whipping your phone out in the process. “I need you to give me the name of that reporter. I’ll get the legal team to draft an NDA breach.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows then, looking at you as if you’d said something odd. “I didn’t make him sign an NDA though?”

You only give him a smile, a hint of confidence plastered on your lips. “I know. I have my ways, Sato.”

“You’re a pretty good assistant, then.” He replies, the corners of his lips going up slightly as he keeps his arms crossed. 

“I’m an excellent assistant.” You correct without looking at him, your fingers tapping away at your phone as you prepare the next steps of your plan. 

Ken can only chuckle in agreement, tapping his fingers on his forearm as he awaits your next set of instructions. Within the next twenty minutes you’ve sent out the necessary details to your team, your legs kicking as you sit on one of his bar stools. He’s stood across from you, leaning on the countertop looking at you intently as you explain the response plan. 

“And lastly,” You say, sliding out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

 His head tilts, the same confused expression on his face. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Your hand curls, motioning for him to hand his phone over. “No, I am not installing a monitor.” You add when you see his mouth open to interrogate you. 

He slides his phone over with a defeated huff, and you open a new contact page on his contacts. “If you need to talk, do it with someone who won’t leak your shit.” You say, sliding back his phone when all your details are settled.

“I have your number though, don’t I?” Ken questions, looking over at the number you inputted. 

“You had my work number. Now you have my personal phone.” You point your finger at him before continuing. “Don’t abuse it. I’m still your assistant.” “Wasn’t gonna, sweetheart.” He says, an amused smirk mixing in with his addled look. 

You quirk your eyebrow at the nickname. You shake your head, hopping off the stool as you make your way back to the front door. Ken follows behind you, hands in his pockets as he watches you leave. Before you can open the door though, you look back at him one last time. 

“I mean it, Ken.” You say, making sure it gets through his head. “You have a problem, tell me. You need a solution, you tell me.”

“I know, I know.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the door. “Go enjoy the rest of your day off before I start thinking you care about me.”

“I do. It’s my job to care about you, Ken.” You reply, giving him a look before you open the door. “Whether you like it or not, I’m your lifeline. At least until you get rid of me, which won’t be happening for a good while.”

“Oh yeah?” He jests, his cocky demeanor slowly coming back. “‘You so sure about that?”

“Extremely sure.” You’re standing outside now, slowly walking backwards. “Twenty minutes ago people thought you had a secret love child and that you were a terrible father. Now you’re back on the face of KFC as baseball’s darling.” 

He’s taken aback. Was he actually booted off of his collaborations? He hastily checked his phone, scrolling through all his platforms. To his surprise, he was greeted with… his usual feeds. No sight of the article, no lingering gossip. His ads had doubled, his partnerships boosted on the products he had endorsed. He looked back up to say something, but you had already started your car. You backed out his estate, giving him a smile through the tinted glass of your windshield. 

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. You were right. But who was he kidding?

You always were.

[too-deviant]

ray bans.

with…ART DONALDSON!

contains…fem!reader, 18+ CONTENT!, handjob, p in v, public sex, this was written b4 the movie came out so excuse any discrepancies!

You blame the tequila.

Strong and sharp in your glass at the tennis luncheon your boss had invited you to, swishing around with every movement you made as you told an overexaggerated story to Art Donaldson. He didn’t pay a lot of attention, you could tell, but his eyes were so firm on yours that you needed to talk to get the nerves out. 

It was the tequila, not his eyes, that got you cornered in a bathroom too fancy to be anywhere but this cushy hotel, legs pushed back so far you felt a burn in the crease of your groin. Those dusty blonde curls buried between your thighs, perfectly calloused hands holding them apart so he could lap at you with perfect fervour. 

Your eyes were watering, and he gazed at you as you came down, rubbing up and down your legs until you were ready to push yourself down and onto your feet. You wiped the runoff mascara as best you could, but huffed at the stains around your eyes.

Art had grinned, slid his sunglasses from his collar and placed them perfectly over your eyes. You’d asked him when he wanted them back, and he’d just smirked. 

Which was how you found yourself scooting past old people in linen suits and straw hats, expensive bags and designer shades on their noses. Yours weren’t designer, but they were Art Donaldson’s, so you won. 

In this life you took your seat in the rows at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Centre — a doozy of a sentence to tell your Uber driver. In this life you slid Art Donaldson’s sunglasses over your eyes and waited patiently for him to sidle onto the court, slam himself a win, and meet you in the bar to take them back. 

His hits were precise, hard, fast. The muscles in his arms and neck pulled beautifully. You pulled the plush of your lip between your teeth, letting it go when he hit another, his grunt louder to you know. Clearer. 

But as your eyes pivoted back and forth across the court, his opponents moves much more confident and fluid than his, the life changed. Now this life was a tense strain in your neck, your fingers tight around the dress you wore just for today. In this life, Art Donaldson lost, and when everyone else was cheering for the winner, you were watching him storm away. 

It was quicker to manoeuvre through the crowds now that everyone else was leaving. You didn’t have to worry about bumping into people, because they were all bumping into you and there was a collective agreement that any and all shoulder shoving slash toe-stepping was okay for now. So you slid your way through, sidestepping through the rows of seats and going down a row every time you got to some stairs — ensuring that it wasn’t completely obvious where you were going. 

You made awkward eye contact with the ball boy but your confident smile put him at ease and he dismissed you completely, allowing you to slip around the back of the stands and into the locker room. 

It was much quieter in there, the noise of the crowd fading into nothing when the door closed behind you. Now you could focus on your surroundings, the sound of water dripping and heavy breaths. 

You parted your lips gently, “Art?”

Footsteps, and then the blonde man was rounding a row of lockers and meeting your sly gaze. His own was shrouded in barely covered anger and light confusion, the latter crowing over a bit more when you took steps to invade his personal space. 

“You came.” 

“Well…” You shrugged, lifting the glasses off your head and tucking them into the collar of his polo. Letting your hand linger on the planes of his collarbones, feeling the heat radiating from the skin beneath the cotton. “That was quite some game.” 

Art huffed, “I was in walkabout. Shit luck.” 

You leaned ever so slightly closer, running your hand down his chest to just above the waistband of his shorts. You admired the way he looked under the lights — the beads of sweat on his jugular, the happy trail you could feel peek out from under the hem of the shirt. Your other hand stayed propped against the locker, and he was quick to run his own down your wrist, cupping your elbow. 

“Well…I say we pick up where we left off, no? That make you feel better?”

You narrowed your brows at him in a silent question. His minute nod was enough. Then your hand was sliding beneath his waistband, dipping into his underwear — Tommy Hilfiger — and wrapping around the base of his cock. 

He sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around your other arm, jaw ticking and eyes firmly on yours. You didn’t break contact even when you squeezed him a bit and he let out a shaky groan. 

You dropped your other hand, hooked your fingers around this waistband. Pulled it back so you could lean forward, eyes glaring at where your other hand sat. Then, with a noise so sweet he might have exploded, you let a string of spit slide from between your lips. Art watched it fall, achingly slow, onto his shaft, and then held back a cry when you started to slide your hand up and down his dick. Wetting it just right. 

You looked back up at him, made him look back at you. You pumped your fist slowly, thumbing his tip and adding his precum to your saliva. The sounds were erotic on their own, and even you had to tense your thighs together. Art’s own legs shook from his standing position, but before he could drop his head onto your shoulder you were removing both hands from his body and smirking at his painful moan. 

With your right hand still wet from his cock, you printed a perfect print on the front of his polo and pushed him gently back. He walked, transfixed on your gaze, until his calves were hitting the wooden bench and he was being sat down. He stared up at you, pleadingly so, and you lifted the hem of your dress just enough so you could slide onto your knees on either side of his hips. 

With your crotches pressed together, Art couldn’t stop his hands from flying to your ass and squeezing. You grinned, and his smirk returned in full force. 

“Should lose more often.” He murmured, leaning forward and pressing his nose against your chest, the low cut of your dress feeding his carnal desire to completely devour you. 

You hushed him gently, pushing yourself up so you could slide his shorts and boxers down to his thighs. His dick sprung out beautifully, making another wet patch where it hit the bottom of his shirt. You used your hand, brought one of his around so he could pump himself while you reached under your dress and pushed your underwear to the side. Then you were shuffling forward and letting Art align the tip of his cock with the wet of your folds.

You didn’t waste a moment, bracing yourself on his shoulders and rolling your hips along his own. Your breathy moans accumulated to the steam you had now registered coming from the shower he had abandoned in favour of letting you take him like this. His huffs and puffs only increased as he began to control your movements, rutting into you from below. 

The creaky hinges of the bench cried with every hurried thrust, but the shower muffled most of your sounds. You gave into your urges and licked a stripe up the plane of his neck, bringing your hands around to grip hard at his back, creasing his already ruined shirt. His own mouth was suckling and nipping at your chest, hitting that sweet sweet spot just in time for your movements to get a little sloppy. 

Smacks of skin on skin fuelled the fire in your gut, and your fingers coiled around his blonde curls. His own movements stuttered, and you let out a guttural groan into the humidity of the room when you finally reached your peak, Art following not far behind you. 

You stood with effort, fixing your underwear and patting your dress down while Art panted beneath you. Then you patted him on the cheek, took his sunglasses back from his shirt and put them right back on your face.

“I’ll see you at the mixer next month.”

divider by @bunnysrph 🫶