#ooc: he was brutal man

[youcanrelaxmyfriend]

Are youu calmed down from earlier or are you gonna yell at people again? :(

yes. i just got really....annoyed to say the least.

[ryusxnka-moved]

No one talks about the fact that Hitsugaya killed Mayuri nine times in Tybw and that's mad disrespectful!

[demonsfate]

Jin lived with his mother all his life. Since there is no mention of childhood friends, and it is mentioned that Jun decided to live in seclusion - it can be safe to assume Jin only had his mother and nature his entire life until he was 15. When he was 15, a monster unlike anything he's ever seen or can imagine attacks them and murders his mother, he was helpless to do anything due to being too young and unskilled. Jin loses the only friend he's ever had, but he does find out he has more family. His grandfather. His grandfather is the only family he has left.

His grandfather is opposite of his mother; more brash, angrier, stricter, and colder. Jin ends up looking up to his grandfather though, because he exudes strength, and well... he's all he has left. Given Heihachi's history with Lee and Kazuya, and how he treats Jin in the future, it's safe to assume Jin was very likely mistreated by Heihachi for the four years he lived with him. Jin was grieving his mother and the old life he knew, all while being pushed into one where he's being raised by a man who seems disgruntled by his very existence, Jin likely assumes this is because Heihachi wants the best for him.

When Jin finally kills Ogre and avenges his mother. He turns around and sees his grandfather's soldiers. Jin's visibly confused as to why they're around. He couldn't even comprehend they were there to kill him until it was too late, and they already fired their guns at him. Jin is shot several times over until he falls down. Then his grandfather steps in. Jin, even though it's quite apparent he's going to die (who wouldn't after being shot that many times?) still reaches out for his grandfather. Was he trying to get at him? Or was he hoping his grandfather could perform a miracle and save him? Either way, his grandfather answers this by shooting his own 19 year old grandson in the head and then walking away as if nothing happened.

This awakens the devil in Jin - something that threatens to kill and maim everything around it.

While Jin survived, he's been traumatized so much - that he's now homicidal-suicidal, believing the world would be a better place without his family and himself. Jin spends two years of his life with nonstop training and reveling in this hatred.

My point is; Jin's lived a very fucked up life during Tek3-Tek4 and it's easy to see how it mentally affects him when you really think about it. The fact that there seems to be a lot of ppl who don't really think about this or think that Jin basically went through "nothing" compared to the other Mishimas is just baffling to me. Frankly tired of people think Jin is just "emo" for no reason.

[osamucide]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

[burytheruby]

S W E E T N E S S

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which your dear husband returns home after a long, long week away from you.

OR: Simon never goes a Valentine's Day without you.

WOOHOO VALENTINES SPECIAL!!!

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: fem! wife! reader, ooc, canon divergent, implied smut, nothing else just sweet fluff. WC: 1146

English is my second language.

a cold hearted bastard, is what he gets called by the man below him, the one with the muzzle of the gun firmly against his temple; he gets called heartless and stoic by the recruits around base when he yells at them to train harder and not be absolute bloody muppets; he calls himself callous and brutal when he's out in the field fighting for his life, crawling his way back home to you.

with you he's none of those things, he's not a bastard—well, not in a way to hurt you. he's a bastard when he grins down at you, standing over six feet with your favorite cup over his head. he's heartless when he doesn't let you put your cold feet against his own with a grunt of annoyance and fondness. he's brutal when he's deep inside of you, holding your ankles up as he sets an unforgiving pace to let out the stress of a mission gone wrong.

but he's also soft, gentle as best as a burly man like him can be. soft kisses to your temple every morning and every night that he's home, spinning you around the living room with a smile on late evenings with your favorite music on, hugging you from behind and resting his face on the crook of your neck with soft nips at your supple skin. he's soft when washing your body his calloused hands working through your hair with practiced ease, mumbling sorry's for being too rough with you and leaving a little too many marks over your body.

those are Simon's favorite memories to reminisce on during times like these, miles away from you with a shoulder injury and a snappy Johnny muttering nonsense in Scots language. "English, MacTavish." Ghost grunted, yet his eyes were distant. he missed you, simple as that. Johnny took notice of that, and unfortunately, he isn't known for keeping his mouth shut. "aye, L.T., thinkin'o yer missus?" that only earned him a cold side glare from Ghost, but it was Simon who spoke, the man who came back home to you instead of the big bad lieutenant.

"she..." a pause, and for a moment Johnny swore a flicker of vulnerability escaped Simon. it was short-lived, soon the stoic expression returned to his dark eyes. "focus on the mission, Johnny." it was all he said as he shook his head, sitting up from the cramped space of the safe house's bathroom. "so we can go home."

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

your soft hums were the only sound in the silent living room, laying on the couch with a blanket draped over you and a cup of your favorite beverage on the coffee table. with a book on hand and the soft, warm glow of the tiny lamp (that you asked Simon to buy it off a sketchy vendor) illuminating the words on the pages and the features of your exhausted face. yet you couldn't sleep, not when the clock ticked almost silently on your wall, the hour currently set in the darkest of the night. you couldn't sleep now that it was Friday and also Valentine's, and you hadn't heard from Simon since the day he left a week ago.

but your book slips from your fingers, falling face down onto the floor and you know that once you're back into consciousness you'll grieve the crumpled pages. for now, those thoughts are drowned, buried along with other thoughts and concerns.

the rhythmic thumping against your ear and the sudden warmth engulfs you like an embrace, the familiar scent of Simon's clothes filling your nostrils and bringing you that needed comfort you crave when he's away. but you were sleeping in the living room, weren't you? when your vision returns, with your eyes fluttering open and the cramp of your arm bent in a weird way that only happens while sleeping cuddled up with Simon, you knew

there he was, his balaclava discarded on the coffee table, the frown of his brows permanently etched on his features, and his tattooed arm thrown around your waist, unconsciously pulling you impossibly closer with a low hum. you tried to shift under his weight, barely freeing your crushed arm from his bear-like grip. "Simon," he hummed again, though you doubted he actually heard you.

your hand cupped his jaw, feeling the growing stubble he had grown during that week pricking at your fingertips when you pressed against their growth. "sweetness," his voice caught your attention, glancing down to find his eyes already on you, half lidded and still groggy from sleep, yet always on you. "darling, me dear," he continued, making you smile and roll your eyes playfully when he rolled to be on top of you. "happy Valentines, love." he said, your eyes widened when you realized it was indeed still Friday.

"I've got ya favorite flowers, an' a souvenir, hm..." he was falling asleep again, you could tell by the subtle way his muscles relaxed. "let's go out for dinner, yeah? an' we can finish that bloody show, an' go to the new market." you knew he meant every idea, and he would fulfill them—hell, he'd swim the English Channel if you asked him to.

"Simon," you caught his attention, and for a moment he lost his breath. you were gorgeous with your hair tousled, the slight redness of your cheeks from being too warm under him and the blankets, and even the tiny frown you seemed to wake up with because you disliked early mornings. everything about you is perfect. "don't got to do all that, dear, as long as you come back home to me, we've got time."

the old Simon, and even the Lieutenant Ghost, would make fun of current Simon for going so soft over a wee thing such as yourself. he wouldn't admit it out loud but damn it he loved everything about you. he loved the way your fingers outlined his sore back as you reprimanded him over the bloody shoulder injury you noticed immediately. he loved the tiny kiss to his cheek, the "missed ya's" and "love ya's" from both of you.

his lips found yours, effectively silencing you. your lips, so soft against his own slightly chapped lips, brought him the comfort he didn't realize he craved like a starved man. his hands found their way under your—his shirt, squeezing your hips and roaming up and down the warm sides of your body. the sound of your laughter when he touched that sensitive spot near your ribs made his heart flutter, and as he always did with you, he smiled. a genuine smile filled with tenderness for you, a look of affection even when he squeezed you under his weight and you squealed in surrender.

a heart that belonged to you, coming back home was everything he needed to fix that heart of his.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

happy valentines everyone 🩷

[tsumuus]

when he sees me

katsuki bakugou x reader, blind date, first date, fluff, ooc?, based on this drabble, probably my longest written fic(around 2300-2400 words, but like thats a lot for me😭)

main masterlist | bnha masterlist

You’ve never considered yourself the romantic type.

Not for lack of curiosity, but because the idea of romance felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Sure, the view was breathtaking, but one wrong move and you’d plummet into the unknown. Relationships demanded too much- a risk of losing control, of exposing parts of yourself no one else had seen, only to have it thrown back in your face.

That’s why, despite Mina’s relentless campaigning to set you up with her “perfect guy,” you resisted.

“C’mon, he’s not like other guys,” she insisted one afternoon, her golden eyes sparkling with determination.

You sighed, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “Mina, you’ve said that about all of your friends. And let’s not forget how the last one ended up being obsessed with his ex.”

Mina laughed. “Okay, fair, but this guy is different. He’s… grounded. Straightforward. No games, no fluff. I think you’d actually like him.”

“You’ve said that before too,” you teased.

Her pout was almost convincing. Almost. “Just trust me. One date. If it’s horrible, I’ll never bring it up again. Deal?”

You hesitated, weighing the risk of one awkward evening against weeks of Mina’s pestering. Reluctantly, you gave in. “Fine. One date.”

The restaurant was warm and inviting, its soft lighting casting a cozy glow over the wooden tables and shelves lined with potted plants. Mina had texted you the details earlier: 7 PM, party for two, under your name. She’d been oddly tight-lipped about who your date was, insisting she wanted it to be a surprise.

You were still skeptical, but a small part of you was curious. Maybe Mina was right this time. Maybe.

You arrived a few minutes early, hoping to gather your thoughts before meeting your mystery date. The host greeted you with a polite smile and led you to a small table near the window.

“Your party hasn’t arrived yet,” they said, pulling out your chair.

“Thank you,” you replied, sitting down and scanning the menu.

Minutes ticked by. You started to wonder if you’d been stood up when the door opened, and a blond man walked in, his sharp crimson eyes scanning the room.

You froze.

Even from across the restaurant, you recognized him. Katsuki Bakugou, pro hero and household name, exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t wearing his hero costume, but the fitted black sweater and dark jeans were somehow just as striking.

Your heart sank. There’s no way he’s here for me.

But then his gaze landed on you, and he started walking over.

“You’re the blind date?” he asked, stopping in front of your table.

You blinked up at him, stunned. “You’re…”

“Katsuki,” he said, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Guess we’re both surprised.”

It took you a moment to recover. Of all the people Mina could have set you up with, this was the guy she’d chosen? Pro hero, explosive temper, and notorious for being brutally honest? It didn’t make sense.

“Uh, yeah,” you finally managed. “Nice to meet you.”

He gave a small nod, studying you with an intensity that made you shift in your seat.

The first few minutes were… awkward. He wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, and you weren’t sure how to navigate the situation. But as the evening went on, you began to notice things you hadn’t expected.

For one, he wasn’t as intimidating as you’d imagined. Sure, his words were blunt, but there was a surprising warmth behind them. He listened when you spoke, his attention unwavering. And when he talked about his work, there was a passion in his voice that made it impossible not to be drawn in.

“So, you’re friends with Mina?” he asked at one point, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah. We’ve been friends since middle school,” you said. “She’s been trying to set me up for years. Guess she finally got her way.”

He snorted. “Sounds like her.”

You smiled, relaxing slightly. “What about you? How did she convince you to do this?”

“Didn’t take much,” he admitted. “She said you weren’t annoying, so I figured it was worth a shot.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “High praise.”

“It is,” he said, smirking.

Despite yourself, you laughed. The more you talked, the more you realized that he wasn’t what you’d expected. Beneath the sharp edges and fiery reputation was someone who was honest, genuine, and… kind. In his own way.

When the night ended, he walked you to your car. The cool evening air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the restaurant, and you found yourself wishing the night could last just a little longer.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Didn’t think I’d like this whole blind date thing, but… you’re not bad.”

A small laugh escaped you. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His lips quirked in the faintest of smirks. “See ya around?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the weight of your fears pressing down on you. But then you met his gaze- steady, genuine- and you felt something shift.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “See you around.”

That night, as you lay in bed replaying the evening in your mind, you realized something strange: you weren’t overthinking it. You weren’t second-guessing every word or analyzing every gesture. Instead, you felt… calm.

For the first time, the idea of letting someone in didn’t feel like a leap off a cliff.

It felt like the beginning of something you didn’t want to lose.

You didn’t expect him to call.

Even though the night had gone surprisingly well, you told yourself not to get your hopes up. He was a pro hero, after all- someone whose life moved at a pace so fast it felt impossible to keep up. People like him didn’t have time for something as fragile and delicate as a budding relationship.

Still, the memory of his smirk lingered, sharp and vivid in your mind. The way his crimson eyes had softened ever so slightly when he teased you- so subtle you wondered if you’d imagined it- made it impossible not to replay the evening over and over.

Three days passed. You told yourself to move on, to not dwell on what was probably just a casual dinner for him. That is, until your phone buzzed with a text.

Katsuki: Hey. You free for dinner this week?

The message was so short, so him, that it took you a moment to process it. Your heart stuttered, and you stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity. Was this real? A small, incredulous laugh bubbled out of you. You couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should you reply right away? Wait a few minutes? Was it too eager to answer so quickly?

Finally, with a shaky breath, you typed back:

You: Yeah, I think I could be convinced. When were you thinking?

The pause before his next reply felt like forever, but when it came, it was so straightforward you had to smile.

Katsuki: Friday. 7. Same place.

Simple. Confident. And as you stared at the message, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

The first couple of dinners were... awkward, to say the least.

It wasn’t that Katsuki made you uncomfortable- far from it. But there was something about the way he carried himself, the unwavering intensity in his gaze, that made you hyperaware of every word you spoke. He wasn’t a conversationalist, either. The silences between you felt heavier than they needed to, filled with the unspoken tension of two people trying to figure each other out.

He wasn’t oblivious to it. One evening, while you sat across from him in a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, your fork hovering over your plate, he tilted his head and raised a brow.

“You gonna stop acting like you’re walkin’ on eggshells around me, or do I need to pry it out of you?” he asked bluntly, his tone laced with teasing, though his crimson eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Your fork clinked softly against the plate as you set it down, caught off guard. “I’m not walking on eggshells,” you retorted, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

His lips quirked in a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you are.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Just say whatever’s on your mind. I’m not gonna bite.”

There was something disarming about the way he said it- gruff but sincere. His words loosened something inside you, and before you realized it, you were laughing, the tension in your shoulders melting away. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“Don’t see the point,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “It’s more fun when people are just themselves. So, quit overthinkin’ and just talk to me.”

It was easier said than done, but something about the way he said it- direct, no room for doubt- made you want to try. And so you did. Hesitantly at first, testing the waters with little anecdotes and random thoughts. But as the night went on, the words flowed more freely. You told him about your day, about things that annoyed you, things that made you laugh. And Katsuki listened.

Really listened.

He didn’t interrupt or interject with meaningless comments. He just let you talk, his eyes steady on yours, nodding here and there or throwing in a dry remark that made you laugh despite yourself. By the time the check came, the air between you felt lighter, less strained.

When he walked you to your door that night, hands shoved into his pockets and that familiar scowl softening just a fraction, you realized you were looking forward to the next time you’d see him.

Things between you shifted after that. Slowly, in small, subtle ways. Dinners turned into late-night conversations that carried over into texts throughout the week. Katsuki wasn’t the type to blow up your phone with messages, but when he did text, it was always something meaningful- or hilarious, though he’d never admit he was funny on purpose.

One night, he called out of the blue.

“Look outside,” he said gruffly, not even bothering with a greeting.

Confused, you walked to the window. Sure enough, there he was, standing on the sidewalk with a bag slung over one shoulder, his free hand holding up his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, laughing as you opened the door and stepped outside to meet him.

“Thought you could use a break,” he said, holding up the bag. “Brought food. Don’t argue, just eat.”

It was simple, thoughtful gestures like that- the way he remembered little things you said, like your favorite snack or how you liked your coffee- that caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to impress you; he was just... himself. Honest, genuine, and surprisingly caring in ways he’d never admit aloud.

The night it all came to a head was unplanned, much like the way your relationship had unfolded. You’d been feeling restless all day, the kind of itch beneath your skin that no amount of pacing or distractions could soothe. Katsuki must have noticed when he stopped by after work, because instead of sitting down like usual, he grabbed your hand.

“C’mon,” he said simply, tugging you toward the door.

“Where are we going?” you asked, though you didn’t resist, letting him lead you out into the cool night air.

“You’ll see.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push, curious despite yourself. He walked with purpose, his hand warm and solid around yours, guiding you through streets you didn’t recognize until you reached a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking- glittering lights stretching out as far as the eye could see, the hum of distant traffic a soothing backdrop.

“Wow,” you breathed, stepping closer to the edge to take it all in.

Katsuki leaned against the railing, watching you instead of the view. “Thought you might like it,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the way he looked at you. “I do. It’s beautiful.”

He stayed quiet for a beat, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “You’ve been outta it lately,” he said, his tone careful. “Figured you needed to get outta your head for a bit.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the weight of his attention- his care- making it hard to speak. “Thank you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

The silence stretched, comfortable now, as you both watched the city lights. But something was shifting between you, unspoken but undeniable. You felt it in the way he stood closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours. In the way his crimson eyes softened when they met yours.

“Katsuki,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “why do you... do all this? For me, I mean.”

He stiffened slightly but didn’t look away. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his tone defensive, like the answer was obvious. “You’re important to me.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. He stared at your joined hands, his expression unreadable, before squeezing back.

“You’re important to me too,” you said softly, the words carrying more weight than you expected.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the glow of the city, something between you clicked. There were no fireworks, no dramatic declarations, but as Katsuki leaned in, his forehead brushing gently against yours, you realized you didn’t need them. This- his warmth, his presence- was more than enough.

[koiiiji]

in the shadows

author's note ; just entered solo leveling fandom, and only watched anime, so i don't know lore that much yet, as a result it maybe ooc as hell

tw ; reader described as non!human and a little tsundere. just fluff

Igris x reader

────୨ৎ────

you had always prided yourself on being the one thing Sung Jinwoo could count on — whether or not he appreciated it. from the day you were bound to his system, you were there, guiding him, helping him navigate the endless challenges of his rise to power. sure, you’d complain and grumble, maybe tease him more than a proper assistant should, but deep down, you were fond and proud of this guy.

and, unlike the other shadows, you weren’t just another faceless warrior pulled from the void. you had your own personality, your own quirks — and a lot of sass to back it up. your sharp tongue making up for your questionable fighting skills, but you were here as a system assistant in the first place, right?

small, curved horns sprouted from your forehead, curling subtly and gleaming faintly in the dim light of the shadow world. a thin, agile tail swayed behind you as if it had a mind of its own, a pair of leathery wings carried you around effortlessly as you hovered at Jin-woo’s side, whenever he toyed with the system interface.

today had been brutal. the battle was long and relentless, the air thick with the stench of blood and the echo of falling enemies. Jinwoo stood amidst the ruins, his shirt torn and streaked with blood, beads of sweat rolling down his sharp jawline.

“and why is he staring like that?” you asked lazily, floating around him, propping your chin on your hand as you gestured towards a silent figure sitting on the ruins of a staircase..

“who?” Jinwoo replied, wiping sweat from his chin.

“him. tincan.” you nodded at Igris, the silent, imposing knight who had been watching you with that inscrutable helmeted gaze.

Jinwoo barely spared him a glance. “that’s just Igris. he’s always like that. he never talks.”

“well, it’s creepy,” you huffed. then, louder: “hey, nailhead! what’re you staring at?”

Igris didn’t move, only tilting his head slightly as though considering you. then, without a word, he stood, disappearing in a gust of black wind.

“see? he’s weird,” you grumbled, puffing out your chest smugly. Jinwoo only shook his head, used to your antics by now. he let out a soft chuckle, brushing a hand through his damp hair. “you know, i never feel that stare at me. he only stares at you like that. maybe he’s got a thing for you.”

you froze mid-hover, your tail twitching nervously before you lost your balance and fall on the ground. “what a nonsense!! watch your mouth young man!” then quietly “..like he’s capable of feelings. he’s just a big, hollow suit of armor.”

Jinwoo smirked, wiping his hands on his pants. “suit yourself.” with that, he walked off, leaving you flustered and scowling.

────୨ৎ────

later, when Jinwoo finally left the shadow world, you took it as your cue to reclaim your rightful position as the system’s most important entity. you were the assistant, the navigator, the closest thing to a leader these shadows had while Jinwoo was gone. and what better way to assert your dominance than lounging on the throne itself?

you sprawled lazily across the dark, jagged seat, one leg draped over the armrest and your wings curled comfortably behind you. you fiddled with a shadowy orb in your hands, tossing it up and catching it with ease as you tried to stave off boredom.

still, Jinwoo’s words wouldn’t leave you alone. you found yourself glancing around the room more than usual, half-expecting those glowing blue eyes to pop out of the shadows.

and of course, they did.

you felt it before you saw it — the familiar sensation of being watched. your tail flicked nervously as you froze mid-throw, the orb dissipating into mist as you glanced around the room. your eyes landed on a familiar figure standing in the shadows, scanning the room. there he was, lurking at the edge of the shadows, as silent and menacing as always.

“hey, tin can!” you called, trying to mask your unease with bravado. “didn’t i tell you to stop staring? you’re making me nervous!”

Igris didn’t reply. he never did. instead, the faint sound of metal echoed through the room as he stood up and took a step closer.

you frowned, narrowing your eyes. “what is your deal, huh? why don’t you ever talk? who am i even yelling at?”

he kept moving forward, his slow, deliberate steps making your confidence falter with each sound.

“h-hey! stop! i-i mean it!” you snapped, but your voice lacked its usual bite.

by the time he reached the throne, you had pressed yourself back into the seat, your wings curling around you protectively. but instead of whatever terrifying move you expected, Igris did something completely unexpected.

the imposing knight lowered himself to one knee in front of you. slowly, reverently, he leaned forward, resting the cold, smooth surface of his helmet against your lap.

your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to do. a soft, rhythmic sound emerged from beneath his helmet — a low purring noise that reminded you of a contented cat.

“w-what the hell…” you muttered, staring down at him, utterly baffled.

cautiously, you raised a hand, letting it hover over his helmet. “you’re such a freak, you know that?”

when he didn’t move, you hesitated for another second before finally giving in. your fingers brushed the metal, and then you stroked it lightly, your touch was awkward and unsure at first. his purring grew louder, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped you.

“you’re so weird, nailhead,” you murmured, a small, fond smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

and though you’d never admit it, you didn’t mind the company. not one bit.

────୨ৎ────

[z0mibite]

short little tommy oneshot, small warning of s/a, not graphicly depicted by there's two mentions. typical tcm warnings, death, blood, murder, ect. soft tommy, probably ooc.

You should be disgusted.

You should feel terrified.

And you did, to be fair. But not nearly as much as you should.

Not when that giant had brutalized those bikers who attempted to assault you, and not when he had treated you so gently. Maybe it was the fact that you didn't put up a fight, that instead of struggling to escape him, you reached up for him as a frightened child would. You had wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him tightly, rather than beating against him.

You were brought to the same dark, damp, moldy room as the bikers, but he didn't shove a meat hook through your shoulder, he sat you down on an unorganized workbench, sharp tools scattered around on top of it. In front of you was some type of chopping block. The wood was stained with a brownish color in a pooling shape, the sides dripping. Some of it was more red and fresher, and the smell of copper hung stagnant in your senses. It was so heavy you could nearly taste it, and the air being so humid and thick didn't help.

The bikers, they begged you.

They looked directly at you and cried for you to help them as the monster of a man poured gasoline into his chainsaw, the smell of diesel overpowering the smell of copper for the time being. The two men and one woman who had cornered you at that shop, tearing at your clothes until the ‘Sheriff’ stepped in. You simply stared, watched as the man revved the chainsaw and began dismembering them one by one.

By the time he'd finished, he was covered in blood, and he wasn't the only one. You couldn't see his face well, but you heard his breath hitch slightly as he saw how much of a mess he had made on you. He walked to the sink, grabbed a rag you doubted was clean before wetting it, and began wiping the crimson off you. The only sounds you could hear was his breathing, and the drips you could only decipher due to the difference in how heavy they sounded.

Your eyes met his as he gently rubbed the blood off your cheek, his hands holding your jaw still despite you making no attempt to move. He paused his movements to wipe his thumbs under your eyes, the tears that threatened to spill finally falling as he pushed them out. He tilted his head curiously before moving one hand to the back of your head, the other holding your back as he pulled you into his chest. The hug was inexperienced and awkward, but comforting nonetheless. His body heat enveloped you, and somehow, even after watching every moment of his brutal acts, your muscles relaxed, and the tension in your body slowly left with a long exhale.

[allthingsimagines]

So It Goes…

“I’m yours to keep and I’m yours to lose. You know I’m not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you, so it goes” - So It Goes… by Taylor Swift

Feyd-Rautha x Pregnant!Atreides!Reader

summary: What will happen when orders are given and it pits the two people you love most against one another?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: Feyd being very ooc

a/n: I woke up this morning and cranked this out because I couldn’t get it out of my head

The Freman had attacked in unprecedented numbers. They bombed the city, the whole building rattling violently from the attacks. You had been in the throne room as they broke into the palace. The room filled with smoke as the revered Muad’dib made his way in front of the Emperor.

Your husband, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, had kept you securely behind him the entire time. You clung to him like a shadow, holding the back of his tunic in one hand and your swollen stomach with the other. Muad’dib had made quick work of the disgusting Baron, which had left you feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.

You had prayed for the downfall of the Harkonnen’s since the moment they had murdered your entire family. They attacked with no warning and slaughtered everyone you had ever loved. You were the only survivor and the Baron took you to serve as a reminder of their great power. Certainly, you would have been dead in days if not for your husband’s possessive nature.

You had been promised to him since the day you were born as a show of peace between the families. When the Baron dragged you kicking and screaming back to Geidi Prime, Feyd had declared that you were his to do with as he pleased and no one would lay a hand on you. As humiliating as it was to be reduced to property by him, it was far better than whatever fate you would have had at the Baron’s hands.

Feyd-Rautha was a brutal man. He killed as he pleased and sent a wave of terror over every person he encountered. He had terrified you as well. He did not care for your feelings or desires. You were his wife now, and he could do as he pleased with you. One thing that you had not expected with Feyd was that despite his violent nature towards everyone else, it had never extended to you.

Perhaps it was the fact that he saw you as his to own, but it kept you safe and alive. You had not anticipated for love to bloom from your marriage to him, but you did love him in your own way. He would burn the world down for you and had killed anyone who had spoken ill of you. His brutal nature was alluring and you could not resist it.

He saw you as his property, but that changed once he started to see your own ambitions come to light. You wanted vengeance for your family and you silently plotted how best to take down the Baron. Feyd had thought you to be as meek as a mouse, but you were formidable indeed. You made quite the pair and the people of Geidi Prime adored their na-Baron and na-Baroness. What they didn’t know is that the two of you had been plotting how to take out the Baron for months to take control of the planet.

Seeing the Baron die had drove you to tears. People around you suspected it was because he was family or from the brutality of the kill as he bled out on the steps of the throne. You cried tears of relief for all that he had done to your family and to your husband.

You hardly even registered anything else that had happened in that throne room as you tried to pull yourself together. The Muad’dib then sent all of you to your rooms to be held as prisoners.

You only hoped he would spare you and your husband because of your condition. You were six months pregnant with a daughter and you couldn’t have been more nervous of what would come next.

You prayed the Emperor would die, along with the Reverend Mother that had plotted alongside him. She had hated your family since the day you and Paul were born. Your mother was only supposed to have a daughter and she had broke that promise. Paul had held all of the power the Bene Gesserit looked for in daughters. While you were still trained by your mother to use the voice, you never were anywhere close to what abilities Paul had.

Now, you hoped that evil woman would pay for all she had done.

“Wife.”

You looked over from your spot on the bed only to find Feyd moving towards you at a hurried pace. Your heart rate increased at his tense form, “Yes, husband?”

“They’re calling all prisoners. You will stay by my side, understand?” Feyd said as you stood from your place to meet him.

His hand reached out to hold the side of your face while the other was splayed over your bump. You nodded and placed your hand over his own, “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything darling,” He said, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone.

“Don’t get yourself killed. I need you to try to stay out of whatever conflict arises. We need you Feyd,” You said with a shaky voice.

Feyd pressed his lips hungrily to yours and you moaned against them. He pulled away, leaving you breathless as he spoke, “No man will kill me today.”

A loud banging came from outside your door and Feyd let out a growl of annoyance. He pulled away and took your hand in his own as he led you out of the room, your ladies fearfully following behind. You followed Feyd out of the room and were met with Freman soldiers, who all tensed at the sight of your husband. You clutched onto Feyd’s hand tighter as the guards led you behind the Emperor, Princess Irulan, and the Bene Gesserit.

The guards opened the large doors to the room and you all followed in. You stuck close to Feyd’s side as you took in all of the Freman soldiers that surrounded the room. You stood in the middle of the crowd as Feyd stood slightly in front of you for protection.

“There is a mass armada in orbit. You’re facing a full invasion Freman,” the Emperor spoke as he came to a stop with the General’s signal.

The Muad’dib stood in the middle of the room facing away from you. You narrowed your eyes on his figure as he looked familiar to you.

“How can you be so sure the great houses are here for me? They might be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think?” the Muad’dib spoke before turning around to face the Emperor.

It was him. He was alive despite all of the odds. Paul.

You stepped forward without thinking as your eyes welled with tears at the sight of your brother. Once Feyd realized who he was he followed after you as you made your way to the front. Feyd kept his hand securely around your middle as you moved through the crowd.

“I am Paul Atreides. Son of Leto Atreides. Duke of Arrakis,” he spoke, but your brain could hardly register the words being spoke as you tried to get to him.

“Gurney, send a warning to all the ships. If the great houses attack, our atomics will bomb all of the spice fields.”

Your eyes widened as they found Gurney Halleck following Paul’s command. You couldn’t stop your tears as another one of your family members was alive.

“Are you out of your mind?” the Emperor said in shock as you made your way to the front.

“Consider what you’re about to do Paul Atreides,” the Reverend Mother said.

“Silence!” Paul shouted with the voice and you heard her fall to the ground.

Before anything else could be said or done, you pushed past a few of the nobles at the front to get a good look at your brother. You squeezed Feyd’s hand as he stood close behind you, “Paul.”

Paul’s eyes snapped to you and you saw his whole body tense. The room was silent as he stepped towards you in shock, “Sister?”

You let out a choked sob as you dropped Feyd’s hand and rushed towards your brother. He pulled you into a tight hug and you clutched onto him like a life line. He pulled away and you took a good look at your brother. His eyes were blue now from the spice and he looked much older than he did when you saw him last.

“I can’t believe you’re alive. How did you-“ you started, but Paul cut you off.

“Mother and I escaped. In all of my visions I never saw you alive, how are you here?” He asked, but all you heard was the fact that your mother was alive.

Your eyes darted around the room, but your eyes settled on the one woman of power in the room. Your mother stood next to Gurney, her hand planted on her own swollen stomach as she watched the two of you interact. She was dressed like a Mother Reverend would be, and based off of her new appearance and the group surrounding her you suspected that was right.

You pulled away from Paul and tearfully let go of him as you hurried to your mother. Lady Jessica pulled you into a tight embrace and held you close to her body.

“Mother, I missed you,” you said into her shoulder as she rubbed your back in the comforting way she had when you were a child.

You pulled away and both of you looked at your swollen stomachs before meeting eyes again. She placed her hand on yours and let out a soft sigh, “You survived, just like I taught you.”

You nodded, without all of her preparation when you were younger you certainly would have died. You looked over to find Gurney giving you a proud look that was filled with more emotion than you’d ever seen from him. You reached forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek before quickly pulling back, “It’s good to see you again, old man.”

Gurney chuckled and opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Paul. “My own sister lives as a testament to our family’s strength. She is Y/N Atreides!”

The Freman cheered, but you only tensed as you stepped away from Gurney and your mother. Your husband would not keep his mouth shut at that. You were his wife after all.

“She is no longer an Atreides. She is Y/N Harkonnen now,” your husband spoke as you saw Paul’s eyes turn to him, filled with anger.

You quickly crossed the room and stood in front of your husband to defend him from Paul. The two had always hated each other and now it was at an all time high.

Paul watched as Feyd’s hand wrapped around your pregnant stomach securely, and you leaned back into his hold. Paul took a shaky breath to try to control his rage as you grabbed Feyd’s hand atop your stomach, “If he hadn’t married me, I would have died at the Baron’s hands months ago. He is the only reason I am still alive.”

Paul bit his lip to contain his own anger and turned to the Emperor as the two began shouting at one another. You let out a shaky breath as you tried to collect yourself. Feyd’s hand rubbed a gentle circle on your stomach as your daughter kicked against it.

You looked back at him and he moved his hand to your face. He gently wiped your tears and you pressed a kiss to his palm. You turned your attention back to Paul as he declared he would marry Princess Irulan.

“But you have to answer for what you did to my father,” Paul growled out as he stared down the Emperor.

“Do you know why I did it? It was because he was a man who believed in rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule. In other words, your father was a weak man,” he spoke and the room sat in a tense silence as your anger bubbled.

Your father was not weak for loving your family. He was a strong man whose love for your family lasted until his dying day.

“Stand or choose your champion,” Paul said, his strength unwavering.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. I choose him as my champion,” the Emperor spoke.

Your heart seized at his words and you looked up to meet your husband’s eyes, but they were set on the Emperor. He stepped away from you to follow the command, but you reached out to snag his hand.

“Feyd, you cannot do this. He is my brother,” you begged as he kept his eyes forward.

“I do not turn down fights, darling,” he said walking towards the Emperor to get his blade.

Gurney handed Paul a blade and he quickly took a fighting stance on the opposite side of the room. Feyd took the blade and moved to ready himself. You went to go to Feyd, but the Freman soldiers blocked your path. You glared in anger at them, “This is ridiculous! Feyd, don’t do this.”

Feyd kept his eyes forward on Paul as the two took their positions. Paul met your eyes before he looked back at Feyd and held his blade up just like Duncan always had before a fight, “May thy knife chip and shatter.”

Feyd turned his head to find your horrified look before turning back to Paul. He smirked before he repeated the phrase, “May thy knife chip and shatter.”

Then the fight began. The two fought brutally against one another and you could have been sick at the sight. You called out for them to stop, but they continued their violent dance. You looked over at the Emperor to find him watching with a pleasant look on his face. You growled as you moved towards him, “This is madness! Call off the fight!”

The sounds of swords clashing rang in your ears as you stared the old man down. He gave you an annoyed look before turning back to the fight, “Quiet woman.”

Your anger spiked and you opened your mouth to speak, but your head snapped to the fight as you found Paul on top of Feyd with his blade in his shoulder. Your mouth opened in horror as Feyd pushed Paul off of him and ripped the dagger out.

You turned to the Emperor to try to convince him, but an arm wrapped around your throat. The Emperor tightened his arm on your throat as you thrashed against him, “If they want to keep you alive, they’ll finish the fight.”

You fought against his hold, but quickly stopped as he pressed a blade to your stomach. You froze in his hold as your mother called out, “Paul! Feyd-Rautha!”

Paul turned his head to see what was the interruption only to find the Emperor holding you tightly to him. Feyd turned and his whole body filled with rage. The two men stepped away from one another and you smirked, “Now you’ve done it.”

The Emperor hated the look the men’s eyes as they made their way towards him. He tightened his hold on your throat and you grimaced, “Done what?”

Feyd was the angriest you’d ever seen him and Paul wasn’t much different, “You’ve united them in a common cause.”

The two men came towards you and everyone backed away. The Emperor pressed the knife harder against your stomach and you gasped in pain.

Feyd was filled with the urge to commit unspeakable violence at the sight of the Emperor holding a blade to his pregnant wife. You met Feyd’s eyes and tried to calm yourself down.

“I was willing to spare your life, but now you’ve threatened my sister,” Paul said, holding his blade up to the Emperor.

“Release my wife and I will make your death quick,” Feyd growled out as he stepped closer.

“You will continue the fight if you want her to live. I command it!” the Emperor shouted and pressed his arm tighter against your throat.

You gasped for air and Paul was quick to use the voice, “Release her!”

The Emperor quickly dropped the blade and let you go. You stumbled away from him, but before anyone else could act you snatched the blade from the floor and drove it into his stomach.

The Emperor gasped out in pain and stumbled as you drove the knife deeper. You met his pained eyes and glared, “For House Atreides.”

You drove the knife up higher into his stomach one last time before you stepped away and he fell to the floor. His daughter dropped to his side as he took his final breath and you turned back to face Paul. You steeled your nerves and met his eyes before you kneeled before him, “Emperor Paul Atreides.”

You heard everyone in the room kneel and your husband dropped to your side. You kept your eyes on the floor, but you reached over to grab his hand. Feyd squeezed your hand in his own as he stayed at your side. Paul began giving directions and everyone rose to their feet.

Feyd pulled you to your feet and was quick to pull you close to him. His eyes raked over your body as he scanned for any sign of injury. He took your face in his hands and met your eyes. You could tell he was furious at what had occurred as he inspected you.

“Are you hurt?” he growled out as he noticed the redness on your neck.

You placed your hands over his and let out a shaky breath, “I’m okay. We’re both okay Feyd.”

He nodded and moved to place a hand on your stomach protectively. He shakily sighed before giving you a proud look, “You did well there, I wasn’t sure if you would be able to do it.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch, “I did it out of love for my family. That includes you and our daughter, my love.”

A proud smirk appeared on his face, “You should kill more often. You look alluring when you do.”

Shaking your head at your husband, you spoke, “I’ll leave the violence to you, husband. I have other ways of gaining your attention.”

Feyd smirked before pulling you into a deep kiss. You groaned in response as you pulled yourself as close as you could to him with your bump in the way. You both pulled away and he brushed some stray hair from your face.

“Feyd-Rautha.”

You both turned to face your brother, the new Emperor, as he stood in front of you with Gurney at his side. The room was full of commotion as people began to shout and head out.

“We’re taking the fight to the great houses. Can I trust that you will keep my sister safe while I am away?” Paul asked, doing his best to bridge the wedge between them.

You looked between them as Feyd contemplated his words. Feyd looked down at you and let out a sigh before looking back to Paul.

“I will gladly give my life to keep her and our daughter safe,” he declared as he returned your brother’s intense stare.

Paul reached his arm out and Feyd reached forward and clasped it. The two stood staring at each other before Feyd said, “Good luck Atreides.”

They dropped each other’s arms and Paul gave you a nod before he headed off to lead the charge. You let out a nervous sigh, but leaned into Feyd’s hold.

“You couldn’t call him Emperor?” You asked with a teasing lilt to your voice as you leaned against Feyd’s chest.

“Now what would be the fun in that?” he asked and you shook your head at him as he rubbed gentle circles on your waist.

“Will we be alright? The Imperium is going to be after all of us after today. Especially me, since it was my hand who killed the Emperor,” you asked and his hold tightened on you.

Feyd guided your chin up to meet his eyes. He looked like a man ready for battle with how intense he was looking at you, “You are my wife. If any one dares to try to lay a hand on you again or our daughter, they will wish they were dead when I get my hands on them.”

You let out a sigh as his violent words felt incredibly reassuring. You softly kissed him once more and smiled up at him, “Good. That was exactly what I hoped you would say.”

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

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It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

[sleepy-fiction]

Taming the Giantess.

lin lie x f!giant!reader

syn: Iron Fist is put on a mission to trap a giant devil on an island. After being brutally knocked out and separated from the group, he finds the shedevil's layer and learns the reason the giant is so aggressive is because she is on her heat!! So, he takes care of her the only way he knows how; using the shards of fu xi embedded in his iron fists. He's just trying to save the world!! ....no ulterior motives at all

tgs: fisting, size kink, breeding kink, cunnilingus (f+mR), watersports, excessive bodily fluids (the reader's a giant), improper use of the Fu Xi Shards

an: to give u a quick rundown of the reader's key appearance characteristics: fem, 20.5ft tall, has unspecified horns, has a specified "devil" tail, turns a dark shade of red/pink/violet mix when frustrated. Everything else is unspecified and up to the reader's imagination!! this was definitely a fun post. Lwk the characters might be ooc bc idk marvel lore im a dc gal, but overall the dialogue should really fit!! UPDATED!! + PROOFREAD

6K WORDS

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The Alien Giant mission was one that lasted longer than it should. With an original team of Iron Man, Black Widow, and Spiderman, these heroes faced off a giant, horned alien as tall as the eye could see. No bigger than 20 feet tall, with horns and a long tail. Stark failed to find any sort of data of where the monster could be from, so he simply began to call it an alien for the time being.

As for the team? What he could say, he had a soft spot for the kid, and he could always count on Black Widow to get a clear shot.

In the beginning, a few weeks ago, the alien fell from the sky, crash lading in the state of Arkansa. Destroying crops and attacking farmers who got too close. Stark was convinced he could handle you on his own, as up until a few weeks ago, you were easy to capture and even easier to manage. He induced the alien to sleep and transported you by your arms with a combat plane to an island not too far from the Mariana Trench. A choice solidified by the fact that you were far enough for you not to hurt anyone, or yourself, just until they figured out what to do with you.

The island was 300 miles long, with a girth of 500 miles, just enough room for you to live your life and have room as a giant, but still small enough for them to keep an eye on you. There was a vast cave beneath the mountain top that led to nowhere, but Tony was aware of that.

The issue arrived when two weeks ago, you started destroying trees by the massive. You started at the beach, working your way through to the mountains. By the time a day had passed, the island had 1/18th of all its trees disappearing.

Now that was becoming a problem.

That meant within twenty or more days, you would have eaten through the entire island. Though that was a problem on its own, on top of it, you seemed to be growing. With no data, no identification, no planet, Stark didn't know what you were capable of.

But he tried to reason with you.

He appeared to you in his super suit and jet. But you were oddly aggressive, more aggressive than before. You flung his plane out into the open sea, were somehow immune to the lethal sleeping gas, and even went as far to brutually damage his suit. And all of that was something Stark knew he could handle.

So he went on his merry way, still trying to study you from afar.

The straw that broke that camel's back was when your skin started to tint a violet-pink. Your claws had grown in sharper. You started to brave out into the ocean, and no matter how many times Stark sent you back, it seemed like each time becoming more of a brutal battle thsn the last. You fought like a wild woman. Finally, stubborn Stark threw the towel in.

He needed help.

He would've never guessed recruiting new people would lead to the start of a war.

Fast forward today, the day Iron Fist, Doctor Strange, and Captain America were recruited to the mission:

Their plane landed on a massive doxing ship. The ship was not too far out from the island, barely 60 miles away. The new recruits ate, slept, and received an extra rundown on the boat. Doctor Strange was chosen, as Stark was led to believe the "She-devil" was more related to magic and timelines than an actual planet. Captain America, to protect the otherwise vulnerable team from brute attacks. And IronFist, to team effectively with Spiderman to deal swift and damaging attacks.

It seemed easy enough.

When the hour arrived, Lin was more than ready. The jet drove out to the island, drawing in and docking in the sand, the team stood in position, following Stark to the front to disembark.

"Alright, I need everyone to listen up," Stark commands tall and proud before the team, "She awakes the second you step foot on this damn island. From there, our she-devil will bee-line directly towards us. Widow, just as the briefing discussed, I need you to find a vantage point while Captain, Spiderman, and I distract her. Then, IronFist, on my signal - and only on my signal - we need you to damage her on three core spots," he pauses, glaring dead at Lin.

"Number one, her ankles," Stark raises a finger, "Two, Her Forearm. Then on three, her shoulder. But only on my signal. The goal of the mission is to disarm her while we buy Doctor Strange enough time to locate whatever crazy world she's from... Everyone, got it?" Stark gruffs.

"Got it," the team cried.

Doctor Strange speaks up, "It might take a day or more for me to find out her origins. There are-- millions of multiverses out there."

Stark nods, "Then we fight for days. But if today goes well, we will only need to fight once. So long as we all keep our heads in the game." Stark gives the group one last look before gesturing Captain forward with him.

"Alright, let's move out," he hums, his suit springing out. Stark steps off the boat and into the water, where they trudge behind him.

Carefully, checking his team once more, Stark raises a foot, and it crashes down on the shore. Within milliseconds, a vicious roar splits the air, the shirek's ferocity to rival the wails of a bobcat. Stark bursts, "Now, Widow! Everyone else move-move-move!"

Everyone rushes to their positions in the beach. With Captain America in the far front, Black Widow sneaking off to the side lines, Spider man webbing the trees that open to the beach, and Lin, standing still right at Spiderman's side.

Lin calls to Peter in the calamity, "Dude! Do you think we'll beat her?"

"N-No! I've been fighting her for days! The only way to get rid of her is to send her back h-home," Spiderman grunts, falling back into place after webbing.

The beach shook for every step. The shards of Fu Xi buzzed in his arms, he hissed and got into stance. Out from the trees and into the sticky webs came this she devil.

You were large, as tall as a building, with lucious hair and an ethereal face. Your body was clothed in leaves and torn cloth around your chest, feet covered in cuts and scores. Horned with sharp eyes and a sharp devil's tail, talons for toes and sharp claws for fingers, you were an apex predator. The only difference was that your skin was a violent and complete pinkish violet, borderlining an angry, bitter red. Not at all what they described you as earlier.

"You didn't tell us she was red," IronFist exclaims.

"She wasn't always," Spiderman yells.

You hit the sandy shore with your fist, sending a blast through the air. Lin was quick to notice how your body seemed to buzz with an unnatural purple glow. The sight alone was enough to make his shards beam frantically.

No, you're not from this multiverse. Hell, you're not even from this dimension! The insight from his ancestors burned through him.

He barely noticed Captain and Stark begin to attack as he went to share his information. He turned his head to yell but was quickly interrupting by the earspliting sound of a light beam fired dead between your eyes. He gasped in shock, but you didn't budge, you groaned in trepidation, clawing at your forehead. His soul stirred at the sight.

This couldn't be right. No. None of this wa--

"IronFist!"

Focus, focus Lin!

Lin sprung into action, calling on his chi and thrusting a flying kick toward your right ankle. Your knee gave in, causing you to kneel, and in that spread, he rushed up your leg, bouncing off your knee to send another flying kick to your shoulder. A nasty crunch split the air as he landed shakily on your shoulder.

Then--

Wait- Shit--

He was supposed to hit your forearm second--

An abrupt and even more confusing green flare burst through the sky.

A flare?

Lin's head was buzzing, his shsrd twitchings ans burnjng through his veins. He suddenly, now so close to you, felt deathly lethargic. He's off his game, hes out of his mind. And that flare? That sea-green fla--

Suddenly, it all kicked.

The flare was his signal.

Then? Who called him.

His knee seemed to buckle, as he swayed softly, staring at the tiny figures on the beach.

"IronFist! I-- Lin! Lin look out," Peter yelled.

Oh god, it was Peter who called out to him. Peter knew his head wasn't in the battle. Peter was warning him.

Shit.

A vicious claw sprung around and backhanded him high into the air. He was shot into the wind at an alarming speed, thwarting his clothes, colors flickering in his fading vision. The beach drifting farther and farther out of his view, his whole body aflame from the stinging slap.

The wind whipped and crackled around him, his clothes frantic before, and finally, his body crunched against a tree.

Iron Fist was out cold instantly. His head meekly slumped forward to his shoulder.

Lin.

Lin.

Awake.

Awake.

He gasps, "S-Shou Lao!" Lin promptly sat upright, his mouth parched, dried iron laid waste on his tongue. Groggily, he looked around, seeing nothing but dense trees and moss, the smell of salt water high in the ear, trickling down with the hum of crickets.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he woke up, but all he knew night had befallen him. The crickets awake with their song. His head ached, his vision blurry and staunch, blood dribbling down his forehead.

He needs to return.

Lin shakenly stood, his knees threatening to buckle under weight as the memories of the battle burned in his head.

He was so off cue. His synergy far out from his body.

Wasn't his fault, your weird, magic aura messed with his timing- his shards were distressed just by looking at you.

And what if he did finish his attack? Was the purpose to break your limbs? He winced at the thought. Somehow, that felt too cruel.

Judging by what the briefing taught him, it's looking like you were sent here either by mistake or by something, and you're trying to get home. Sure, breaking your limbs would make it easier to transport you and keep you in one sitting, but. Can't send you back to wherever you're from with broken limbs, could he?

What if you're at the bottom of the food chain over there?

Or maybe he was just another idiot making up excuses for his failures.

No. If he was honest.

He knew he didn't want to fight you in the first place. Maybe Stark knew it too.

He trudged through the forest, the humidity high, the temperature hot, forcing his clothes to stick to his body. He was just walking the direction he was facing, trying not to be eaten up by the pain- or worse by the mosquitos who could smell his stench.

When he gets home, he's going to need a shower.

Probably a medic too.

He's not all too worried about running into you, as he glanced up at the mountain he was approaching. Stark told him that you disappear at night, and night would be the prime hours to either transport you or have Strange work on securing that portal. Thing is, he had no clue where you went at night, and worse, sometimes you'd use the night as an advantage to swim off to who knows where.

All of the team was led to believing that disarming you would be the best but. Fucksake, he couldn't do it. It was cruel. Then again, he had no better solution.

Maybe. Maybe he could find one.

Lin must've walked blind in the dark for miles before he stumbled across a cave opening on the base of the mountain. He had the energy to continue walking to the beach, but his arms were aching. Not just from the shards, but he used them to block most of your attack. Wither way.

A break would be nice. He deserved it, even after screwing up so badly.

AIron Fist ventures deep into the wide cave, it was dark and quiet at first. But then, he starts to hear a faint sound.

"Aa.... Ggr... Ff...."

He squints, the shards surging through him. There's danger a foot.

He briskly holds his fists up, staying in close to the wall to be less noticeable. And as he creeps in closer, a warm light flickers in from the depths of the cave.

The sounds ebb louder, "Aaah! Mm...h! Oo... ..Ff," clearer too. It's the she-devil's voice, and it's groaning out. He squints harder. Just behind a barrel of rocks was the source of the light and sound.

He uses the rock's cover to an advantage and sneaks in closer, resting against them..

Not to be crude, but those groans sort of sounded like...

Ironfist peaks over the rocks, and his eyes fail him at the sight. There in the cave lies the She-Devil, lying naked next to a warm fire. The cave opens up grand in here, enough to be a house sized for a 20.5ft woman. But that's not at all what he's staring at. He's staring at you, sanding down trees with your teeth and teetering them around your dribbling vagina. God, heat rushes straight to his pants.

Your pussy was giant and soaking, your skin hot and pink, even more so than before. It was a vulgar and agitated color, the color of frustration. And it made your body seem all the more tantalizing to him. It's was primal, the sight of your sex, as it called to his primitive apeish roots, lost between humanity's years of evolution. God, it called to him to hear your bellowing trills and moans. Called to a disgusting, feral, primal part of him he wasn't aware of.

He felt so lethargic again.

The shards oddly didn't buzz or flicker, and somehow, he almost forgot that he was Lin Lie.

Oh my god.

It finally clicked again for him. You were acting like this because you were--

Lin gasps, "Sexually frustrated," the words slip out from his mouth before he can register it.

You immediately perk up, a vicious growl bursting from your lips as you weakly toss your dangerous, makeshift dildo at the rocks before Lin. He steps back. The rocks clamor and knock down, rolling down the cave and towards you, revealing him standing there.

You narrow deadly eyes on him, baring your sharp canines with a growl. Lin freezes, aderaline perverse through his brain. He brungs up his fists, awaiting an attack. Instead, you do nothing but glare. You're too weak to chase him away, resting your sweaty, tired head against the wall, your sputtering pussy clenching on nothing.

Ironfist raises his tired arms, "Hey... Hey girl... I'm not gonna hurt you, 'kay?" His voice is slow and soft, his palms faced to show he's no threat. He's even crouched a little, trying to make himself as small as possible. Something that once again proved how evolution's natural survival instinct flowed through him.

You still growled, recognizing the body language, but not giving up your snarl. Your walls clench up on nothing, still reminding you of your vulnerable problem. You have no time to fight, youre to weak.

It hurts so bad.

You know you need a mate, and you need one soon.

You suddenly whimper, your claws grinding up chunks of rock and clenchjng your eyes tight close. Your brain thought of one thing and one thing alone. Helplessly, you chose to ignore the little creature. You could do nothing but try to reach for another tree to grind down. But surely, that would be more painful than it would be pleasurable.

"I'm," once again, he speaks before thinking, "I'm gonna get close to you, if that's okay." And the shard buzz in annoyance at the idea. He watches as you continue to ignore him, and a part of him can only wince at the sight. He cooes sweetly at you, "You poor thing, you're just in pain, huh? Having to fight these tiny jackasses all day... Jus' need a break, huh 'gal?"

Despite not knowing the language, you look up at him, a softer gaze brimming from you. Iron fist slinks down the same slope the tree and rocks fell down before reaching the flat bottom of the cave. It's here in thr down draft that he can smell just how brutually wet you are. The smell is strong and acidic, so primal and intoxicating. It's so strong that his dick grows impossible hard off it alone, precum dribbling from his head. Fuck, his cock was aching so bad, it took everything in him to not squeeze it. Or worse, drop to the floor and jack off like a maniac.

Yet he ventures into your warm, dangerous den, eyeing the various claw marks that etch the walls. He's ashamed of the excitement that brews at the sight. All of his body, every atom, from the root of his DNA, was begging to fuck-fuck- fuck. This was more than just him and you. This was cardinal.

Soon enough he's mere standing feet away from your pussy, his eyes glued to the gorgeous sight. It was a breathtaking. Your vulva was much bigger than his entire head, glistening in the fire light like a delicious, sloppy snack. His knows dick would feel like nothing to you, despite being fat, burly, and 8 inches long.

No, you need something more. His hand reached to touch your thigh, you chitter strangely, and move your legs further out of the way for him. He notices but can still sense your unease. Nevertheless, he didn't know how to help. That's when his shards buzz strangely, causing him to wince and stare at his arms. They stop once he sees it.

What? The fuck?

"Shao Lao... My ancestors... You all are not saying," he stutters. He's unsure if he should be embarrassed or confused. He stares dead at his thick, muscular arms, unsure, before flickering up at you. You're still weaning and whimpering. It's more painful than it is anything else.

You shouldn't be using a tree, your poor girl, he's sure his arms would be a great help.

The shards warp and shake. He only hisses in rebuttal. Fuck. Hell no. This was so wrong on so-so-so many levels. You were intoxicating him, overriding his logical senses since the very beginning. Everything was leading towards him letting go into his urges.

You weren't even figuratively intoxicating him either. Your scent was a natural aphrodisiac, made to numb the minds of your mates. It's just that when you're 3 times smaller than this devil, it's more intense to fight against. That's not to say that your chemical processes are overriding the whims of fate either.

Fuck.

Not that he wanted to fuck you. It'a just the sight of you from afar got him riled. He just needed to let go.

You were laying on your left side, your face pressed against the wall as your right arm limply hugged your ribcage. Your right leg rested on your left, knees pulled up closer to your chest with your legs sticking to the left. Out of the way of your pussy. It was the perfect set up to comfortably, flash all of yourself to the strange tiny being.

Truth be told, you were sent to this random world after a buzzing, purple object lifted and glitched in front of you. Back home, you were a warrior, fighting for money in your dimension's verison of a grand colesium. Then, in one second, you were in a strange green and blue world with angry tiny people. Worse of all, your heat was rapidly approaching, and you were nowhere near one of your many mates. You'd call for them in the blue sky yet didn't get any answer. You'd try to courage the blue waters, but a little flying thing would stop you every time.

You were scared, frustrated, and angry. So damn tired every day, forced to protect what little land you had from those tiny beings, yet still forced to escape all at once. But here you were, watching a green little being step close. You remember it well by its strong odor alone.

It hurt you.

You were scared.

But now it's, touching you. Soft and slow into the back of your thigh. You hiss at first, but you hear the voice again, "Hey, hey... Sweet girl. You're okay... You're okay," he whispers. Although you can't understand this language. You can't help but note how soft he sounded, how affectionate, the way caressed you.

You whimper and trill again, your people's way of communicating stress. His warm, tiny claw continues in its monotomus motion. It's soothing. So you trill again, this one sounding more of a plea.

Ironfist places raises his other hand, standing on his tippy toes to make sure you can see it. Your eyes follow it as it dips into your blind spot, yout hips; then you feel the softest and quickest touch against your clitrous.

On your heat, every sensation feels heightened. You mewl and trill, your tail whipping excitedly.

The little creature wants to become a mate now? Why? Has it changed its mind? Ah, it was your body scent, wasn't it? You've somehow convinced your attacker to surrender.

As much as you wanted to dwell on his motive, you could feel your body ache painfully, causing you claws to bear into the stone. You trill out again, this time it's loud and annoyance, filled with a whiney-bratty pleas. Your tail raises and thwarts against the stone floor. You don't care less about what he wants. The quicker you can solve this rut, the more strength you'll have later to beat the little thing into a pulp.

Lin giggles, softly laying both hands on your giant clit. It was plump and meaty to the touch. Soft and reqarding, he wanted to squish it. It was aa if it were a large, doughy treat, it made him salivate.

The shards, on the other hand, buzzed and whipped, but he braved it. "No matter the dimension, women are similar... You're a bratty type, aren't you, she-devil," He's mostly talking to himself, regardless, he talks loud enough for you to hear. He softly squeezes the large bud in both hands, feeling you arch down into him. He dips his hand in your giant slick, and it globs together on his hands. He then layers it heavily on your clit, grabbing hold of it on side and massaging it in unison.

Deliciously, you release the moans he heard before, "Oouh... Aahhf, mmh..."

His eyes seem to lid in relaxation, breath no longer caught. He hushes, "Do you like this, huh, girl?" He smiles softly. "Fuck I'm losing my mind," he grunts. Without a second thought, he abruptly buries his face against the giant clit. His mouth wasn't big enough for all of it, so he slurped a portion in his hot mouth, still rhythmically massaging the rest together. He squished it, increasing the friction and the vigor by which his tongue prodded and flickered your huge bean.

He gets in close. Feeling your heat burn against him, he ruts against your labia, your juices soaking his chest and body fast. The feeling seemed to make his skin numb, his body drooping and relaxed, his swelling and pain seemed to dip away. As your moans spiked high, mixed with song-like trills, he knew you were cumming soon.

He muffled out with a mouth full of pussy, "C-Cumff Cummff. Cum."

You arched down into him and orgasmed, your very first since your heat started. God, the sensation was deathly, spiking through the tips of your toes and running up your spine. Relief fled your brain for the first time in a while, chemical fires sparking grievous serotonin and dopamine.

The stimulation of tiny hands massaging and rotating you in unison, with a strange, tinier tongue suckling and slurping up the rest, was an undesirable experience. It made your talons curl up as you rode your high.

Lin pulls out from you with a gasp for air, trying to wipe off as much of your juices from drowning and making his body sticky. He looks up and notices you're still a blood angry pink. Only a few shades lighter shade than before.

"Not enough, hm," he asks.

He watches as you raise your giant leg and carefully moves it over head. You drop it next to him; a wider part of him scared you were going to crush his 5"9 ass. But instead, you now laid on your back and head propped up against the wall to get a good view of him, with both your legs spreading with him in the middle.

Once again, the tiny little thing was just staring blankly at you.

You whined, the sound accompanied by a needy, sexy trill. As if you were complaining and ending it off with a sultry flare.

Charmed, Lin laughs, "Mmh, alright, hold on."

You watch as the weird green creature removes its yellow stripes from his arms, revealing a bruised and we'll together scarred peach colored arm. Was those stripes clothing apparel? He seems to replicate the same for the other arm. His fists buzzed green, your eyes hone in on it.

Lin's shards were burning in his body, a useless forewarn as he succumbed to his flesh. The pain was intense, but he had a theory. Iron fist stuck four fingers into you, and you mewl, feeling them each squirm and feel you about.

Feeling you was pure escasty. Your walls were squishy, hot, moist, and wet. The soft feeling of your delicate walls treading against his fingertips was like carressing expensive velvet. Best part of it all, knowing this was a vagina made him bust in his pants. "Oohh, haa- she-devil," he mitters under his breath.

That's not counting the smell of you and how, as he pulled his fingers out, he found his fingers were coated in mounds of white cum.

His theory proved right. Your numbing made him lose some sensation in his fingers. Would it be enough to stop the ache of the shards?

Regardless, you seemed to really enjoy it. This time, as he sinks his whole fist into your warmth, he watches your face. Or at least as much as he can from up your vulva, through your large round thighs to each side of him, up your lucious belly, next the delicious mounds of your breast, and then to your face.

You were a gorgeous alien.

Lin's hips buck against nothing.

Your jaw falls in surprise at the feeling of his tiny arm inside of you. The creature thrust his arm deeper, and you pulsate against him. You can feel your walls suck up his forearm, his arm was wider at the base due to his fat muscles.

Your heat was so strong from all the factors against you, as if pure bliss feel upon you. You were embarrassingly defenseless, spread open by a creature barely the size of your leg. Letting such a creature, also your stranger and adversary, crack you open like a clam made it all the more wrong. And all the more pleasurable.

Wanton moans drifted off you as Lin began to thrust his whole forearm in you, his tight muscles working to pump you hard, but slow enough for you to keep the steady pace. He can only hear your loud trills reflecting off the cave walls. He delighted drinking up the pretty sound.

"Yeah? Feel good, feel good," he can't help but ask you so many times. Afterall, he doesn't even know what you're saying, let alone feeling, he can't speak whatever it is you're cawing about, but above all. He wants to give you what you want.

It's through this that he slides in his other arm, resting them thumb against thumb, a form he usually uses his fists to punch with. You walls flutter and pulsate around the newest addition, clenching hard, restricting against his skin, sucking him in with your recoil. He can only gasp as you end up sucking his whole body flush against your vulva.

He pulls away.

Perverse tempatous flood his mind.

Lin shamelessly calls on his chi to burst into you, fucking his fists into your body as if he were vigorously rowing a boat. His large muscular arms give you variations in shape for your sensitive walls to stimulate itself on. Not to mention, with his thrusts, as he pulled out, his arms separated, stretching you impossibly wide before slamming in impossibly deep. You swore, if he just extended his fingers out, he'd be just tickling your cervix.

"Aahtt! Ooh! Mmh," you mewled and trilled, your knees jolting up, legs twitching and claws reaching for purchase in the stone to each side of you. You watch the sight of the little creature's black head dipping closer and further from you, matching his intense rhythm.

And though he's unable to go particularly fast, it's enough to draw you to your second orgasm.

He only notices when you scream, and a strong stream of fluids burst against his hands, forcing his fists out of you, your walls barely clinging on to his wrists to keep them inside.

He slips out, laying an affectionate kiss on your sloppy, slick labia. You're a soft violet pink now. He hums in satisfaction. "Wanna' see a trick, sweetheart," he asks.

In your eyes, you watch as the little creature suddenly cries out, a burst of a dangerous green aura overtaking him. You flinch in a mixture of fear and anticipation. He pulls one fist out of you, turning to the side a bit and taking a stance. Suddenly, he frantically slams the single arm deep into your walls, his fists bumping around at a different target each time. You cry out loud, your moans boarding wails. He's at a break-neck speed, a speed brisk enough to make you lose your breath, lose your eyes behind clouds, to find yourself uncontrollably dizzy.

Finally, his fists curves up against your bladder, dealing a hard thrust against it, and you squirt dewlets into the air because of it. They barely miss him, but he doesn't care in the midst of calamity.

"Found it," he grins. Pleasuring women was his pride and joy, especially one whose juices made him not be able to feel the shards burn within him.

It's a feeling he almost forgot.

Fuck, it made him ridiculously horny.

He's relentless and precise, eat blow a vigorous compilation of unbreakable, nimble, and sharp thrusts. A speed you're sure not even one of your partners could top. Your orgasm was forced upon you, squirting out and cumming all at the same time. He doesnt stay in you for long after it, pulling his fist out immediately. You watch the little creature duck out of your stream, hiding and crouching by your left inner thigh to avoid the flow.

"Holy hell," he cursed. Your piss was beginning to puddle by his feet.

Quickly deciding the best way to avoid it all was to jump up onto your shivering thigh. It's then he finally looks up at you, the normal color that you were described as, while you convulsed and twitched. He grins as your eyes roll back as you rode out your high. "Oh yeah," he mutters, grabbing himself through his soaked pants. Mostly soaked from your juices, but a lot of it also being from the amount he came himself.

When you come to, drowning in pants, you look at him. Watching the yellow striped, white eyed, green, peach-striped creature flash a smile. Something you weren't aware that they could also do. You reach with your claws and stroke his black hair, your touch gentle.

You trill gratefully.

"Its no big deal, no problem. Just saving the world, one day at a time," he rests his hands on your claw. "Listen, devil. I kinda need you to be nice for a while. My team is--" but before he could finish his sentence, you pick him up by his green apparel, sitting up as you move farther from the warm fire. He squeaks, but soon he's found you've relocated to a new wall on the cave. You were starting to sweat.

You lean back and spread your legs, dropping him down on his belly. He bounces on the softness, falling on his butt. "Whoa, there. Heads up would be nice," he mutters. You reach, cupping his back with your right hand, and tearing off his apparel with his left. The little creature yelps, and you pause only to make sure it wasn't actually his skin. No blood oozes from him, so you remove his pants as well and simply scratch off the little miniature piece he had beneath it.

You watch as a dick springs out from between the creatures leg. You compare it to your smallest claw. You were mistaken. It wasn't that small. Instead, he was roughly about the length of your middle claw and as thick as your thumb. Regardless, it too was red and twitching. Was he in heat as well, but the little creatures show it differently?

You nodded. You see. They're more private about it. They hide it behind colorful garments.

You smile, picking him up and dropping him back between your legs. You give him a guide and push him flat against your vulva before resting your arms back to your sides.

"Want me inside," he asks, looking up at you.

He should be caring about his super suit, but honestly, he was aching so much already so...

You trill playfully. So Ironfist takes it as a yes. He lines up against you, feeling your giant clit against his chest, it was so soft and bouncy, he swore he could eat it for days. Fuck, the thought made him twitch about your entrance. He needs to feel your heat, now.

Lin thrusts into you, and you hum in delight. Lin stares up at your face as he drags himself in and out, the height difference putting him in an awkward position, yet still he handles it, thrusting at a constant, simple pace. He soaks in the delectable feeling of your hot slick and hotter walls burning against his (by your definition) tiny cock. All eight inches of him merely in the shallow end of your warmth. Your gummy walls were sucking him in so deeply, the wettest of it making a thick sloppy sound, forcing juices to cover up his chest and ooze down his bare legs.

His hands grip chunks of your pubes, using it for purchase as he begins to speed up. Now that he's knows he's fully taken care of you, all in his brain that is left is "fuckfuckfuckfuckcum," as fast as he can. He's breathless by his speed, legs buckling, his tiredness finally catching up to his numbed-out body. His eyelids are falling against his eyes, his cheek sloppily resting in your bed of hair as he fucks himself. To you, it feels like a speedy finger. To him, this sensation, this experience will be completely irreplaceable for the rest of his life.

He's sputtering out as he explodes inside you, shooting out at least five ropes into your sweetness, sagging against you as if his soul is sucked out from his body.

He pants against your vulva and weakly raises his head, "Wuh-- We're finished, right?"

You pick him up again, dropping him on your sternum, and he lands on his feet again, leaning forward to hold your collarbone. His eyes flicker to your breasts, his dick standing right up. "Eeh... One last- tuh... One last round," Lin smiles lazily.

He hops onto your breast, wrapping his arms around it and giving it a squish. You trill and yelp in confusion, your head drooping in dazed surprise. What's gotten into the little man? He rubs his cheeks against your soft flesh, giggling like a school girl as he uses almost his whole body to fondle you. He finally dips down, sucking your giant nipple into his mouth.

You cry, holding the little creature's back so it won't fall. It licks and slurps your nipple until it's hard, even softly nibbling and drawing his teeth on the side of it. Aah, it wants to mate more. You didn't want any more stimulation. You wrap your hand around his wrist, pulling him back, but his suction keeps his lips to your nipple. He mumbles something, but you whine and trill, and regrettably, he releases your nipple with a pop.

"Not everyday you get to fondle some giant b--" but before he could finish his sentence, you place him on your face. His hands awkwardly grab secure chunks of your hair, feeling his hard on against the softness of your upper lips. He stares now at the wall and the top of your head, his feet dangling off your chin.

You draw out your tongue, the heat making him fire a shot of precum into your open mouth. He shakes and shivers. Part of it being from sex the other part from the primal fear of being eaten. It makes him melt and buck his hips into your open mouth. You wrap your giant lips around his dick, your hot tongue flying up and greeting his cock. He moans out in ecstasy, clenching his eyes tight to fight an early send off.

He's has to savor this for as long as he can.

Your large, hot muscle licks him, your mouth adding a soft suction. She knows he's tight and wants to be gentle. But for him, none of it is gentle or soft. Your suction is perfectly powerful, as if he were in a cock milking vat, his toes crunch up in bliss. His eyes roll to the back of his head. He's cumming, oh no he's cumming.

You swipe your tongue around him, swirling and twirling, back and forth and back and forth again. His grip on your hair grows deathly tight. "Mmuh... Whoaa... Aah... Uhhn," he's babbling nonsense, bucking and twitching, his cock pulsating as he holds back. But eventually, to no avail, sprays your pretty mouth with two thick, creamy ropes of cum; all before he blanks out once, and then twice.

He's running empty now, his balls no longer thick and bothered, but tranquil.

You grab him again, watching him lay limpy in your hold. You trill and giggle delightfully, leaning to caress his little face with your nose. Your trill not only welcomes him as your new mate (for life), but also sends him off to sleep, as you lay him on your chest.

Maybe these creatures weren't so bad afterall.

---

A week had passed before anyone had seen any sight of Lin, and it was tearing Stark out from the inside. Peter tried his best to cheer him up, noting that his pal was capable and wouldn't die like this, let alone be subdued by the She-Devil. But still, it worried him. Doctor Strange ended up finding out that she was an inter-dimensional being from a parallel world to Earth. Unfortunately, this was learned the very next day after they lost Lin, and somehow, it made the lost feel worse.

Still, the team continued with the mission, trying to lead the devil out anyway that they could. For some reason, you didn't come out. Not even when they stepped on your terrain or sent loud blasts and sirens into the day sky. It was like she wasn't even there at all. As if you couldn't hear them at all.

As the sun began to set, Stark sat next to Black Widow and Dr Strange on the cargo ship, staring off at the island in the distance as the shared a nice cup of tea (more so coffee for stark). He drummed his fingers across the desk, nodding along to the conversation.

"The next action plan is to comb through that forest. Get the kid, find the devil. I dont care if we have to trap her, we need this case over with. Before she grows or worse," he pauses, staring at the black bitter substance in his cup.

"Worse, she does ze' unexpected," Widow suddenly stands, drawing out her scope.

Just then, Peter comes barreling down the board, pointing at the island. "Guys look, there's movement," he calls.

Black Widow nods, "I've got eyes on the devil," all rise abruptly at her statement. "She'll be at the shore in approximately five minutes."

Captain rushes in after Peter, catching the final glimpse of the conversation. "We'll need to hurry."

"Alright, team, board the boat. Strange, get that portal ready."

They board the sailboat, racing down to the shore. By the time they made it there, the she-devil was just stepping out of the trees.

"Alright widow, get a good shot. We need to do the same routine as last time, but Peter we'll need your webs in--"

"Look," Widow cries, abandoning her sniper to point at you.

Not only had you turned back to a normal color, but in your hands rested Iron Fist, who excitedly waved to the team. They all gasped, and you stepped closer.

"Lin!" Peter shouted, rushing off the boat, trudging through the water. The others followed in pursuit, gathering around as you lowered him into the sand.

But oddly, most of Lin's outfit was tattered. His chest was bare, and he held up his pants with his hands. And as they all got close to check him out, there was this strong, sultry, strench that was caked on him. As if he were soaked in it.

The smell was so acidic, so familiar to most of the team, but they couldn't quite--

Black Widow suddenly gasps, "You smell like f'acking kiska," she hisses, a flush over taking her face as she steps back.

Stark gasps, snapping his finger, his voice slightly distorted from his suit, "Ah, that's what the smell is!"

Captain turns to Peter, "What's 'kiska'?"

Peter whispers, "It's uh p-pussy in Russian."

Captain gasps in shock, slowly putting the pieces together as he stared at Lin. "The torn clothes, the disappearance for a week, t-the smell," he mutters.

Lin's face is a humiliating red. Most of his torn shirt used to pitifully cover what little of him that he could come from his team.

"Oh Godt', she did it with you? Why you," Widow eye's scale up the she devil's body.

"I don't wanna' think about Lin doing any of that," Peter quirks.

Strange scoffs, "Hello? Are we stupid? The most important part of this issue is that a human from our species, co-mingled--"

Lin stammers, "I w-wouldnt say comingle it's a weird word--"

"--With an inter-dimensional devil. That's the most important part," Dr Strange finishes.

"But she's so tall," Widow hums, covering her mouth as she stared only at you. "I mean, I v'would get if it v'ere Kaptain," she mumbles.

"M-Me?" He sputters.

"Cause, you're a big man. He's puny," she said.

Captain speaks, "Don't bring me into this!"

"Let's just- Please let's forget about it and send, (y/n) home," Lin drops his head in humilation. "A-And agree to never mention this to anyone."

"Agreed," the team cried unison.

Captain squeaks, "(Y/n)?"

The doctor opened up a portal for you, as electric sparks flung into a circle right beside you. You flinched away from it at first, but once you saw your dimension's lush lavender fields and soft sea green sky's, you lit up joyfully. A sweet trill brimmed you.

The creatures were just trying to send you home? Is that what they've wanted all this time? Your eyes quirked as you looked at them each, your tail swooshing in affection. You'll be sure to remember them well.

As for your mate, you squatted onto his level, taking your index claw and soft caressing under his chin, to the side of his face, then to ruffle his hair. "Ready to go home, sweetheart," he smiles, eyes lost in a dreary affection. Your week of endless fucking was a great bonding experience. He'd be lying if he didn't say he'd love to see you again after this.

Explore your planet. Learn more about you.

Speak your language.

You scoop him up in your hands one last time, he stands on your palms and bows his head, you do the same and brush your horn against his head; a custom Lin learned as an intimate gesture of connection. You placed him down, giving him one final look before stepping in, and the fire sparkled behind you.

Yet you didn't look away from him.

You had many mates, but none as exciting as him.

Lin stood in a daze for a moment before rushing off with everyone else to the sailboat.

"Lin, to the back, please. We don't want your smell blowing on us," Stark commands.

"Y-Yes sir," he sighs defeatedly.

Right as he sits, he watches Widow approach him. "V'ell," she crosses her arms as the boat starts.

Peter inches in close to the conversation.

Lin asks, "Well?"

"H'kow did you do it?"

Oh god.

[linics]

sae itoshi’s different flags in dating

every man has their faults, don’t they?

cw ; possibly ooc sae , implications of manipulation , possessive sae mentioned , not proofread , no capitals are intentional

sae itoshi’s green flags would be —

how public he would be about you. sure, maybe his management would hate him for it, but he has no shame. he’s proud of you, and he wants everyone to know that.

he would put your preferences above his. you don’t want to go out somewhere that he loves? he’s always open to recommendations. you’re obsessed with some media he has no interest in? he’ll listen to you ramble about it, asking occasional questions.

he listens and actually does things. he’s very upfront about what he needs or wants from you. so when you reciprocate, then expect whatever you ask for to be granted to you instantly.

he doesn’t care what you wear. don’t mistake it as he doesn’t mind it if other people hit on you — he does, but he trusts you.

he will interfere if you seem uncomfortable. as much as he trusts you and knows you are capable of standing up for yourself, he’s not scared to help you out. and sometimes, you need that help.

sae itoshi’s yellow flags would be —

he doesn’t often apologize first, at least he doesn’t outright. maybe he’ll give you a few extra gifts, make you dinner for a few days. he’ll do everything he can before saying he’s sorry.

he’s really, really dense. you’re having a bad day? you’ll just have to tell him straight up or be painfully obvious about it. and honestly, a lot of the time, he notices, but he doesn’t know how to help.

he will respond late. if he’s at a game or training, you’re not his priority at the moment. his focus is on improving. he won’t answer your calls, nor texts for however long it is. but he always tells you when he’s going.

he’s can be jealous. not because he doesn’t trust you, like i’ve said before, but i’m a firm believer in him being at least a bit possessive over you. he knows his schedule is filled, so if you mention going to breakfast with one of your male friends too frequently, it might get stuck in his head. after all, you’re just so wonderful, who wouldn’t fall for you?

he’s brutally honest. he sees no point in lying to you. if he thinks your hair would look better in a different style, and you ask how it looks, he’ll be honest. then again, he’s always trying to be gentle with it. but at the same time, if he tells you he stayed out training for longer than expected for whatever reason, you’ll know it’s nothing but the truth.

sae itoshi’s red flags would be —

he isn’t emotionally available, at all. if you’re having a bad day and want to cry and have him hold you, forget it. maybe, if you convince him enough, he’ll hold you, but forget him reassuring you.

he’s not going to put soccer above you. if you don’t want him to go to a game, or want him to quit, it’s something he’s willing to dump you over.

he’s oblivious to other people’s feelings. if someone’s flirting with him, then he won’t notice. he’ll simply continue conversation with them.

he’s very busy. want to go out sometime? yeah, sure. but then the day of, he might cancel due to some meeting or a game that interests him. if quality time is your love language, just forget him.

he’d try showering you in gifts and expensive items to try and make you forgive him. will he change? no. but he’ll buy you things. he’ll keep buying you more and more, money isn’t a problem. if there’s a fight between you two, he’s going to buy his way out of it.

a/n : oh my gosh i’ve been so busy i’m so sorry. i’ve been in and out of the hospital a ton, but im now taking a long-term break from school so i should have more time to focus on this i hope. gonna try to upload maybe once per week. anyways i love sae sosoossososo much. this guy i really like loves him sm and now i love him too lmfaof. sorry if these are ooc i didn’t have ideas for 5 per flag

[hopesangelsprite]

So Anxious

Summary: It's strange, the things you make Illumi feel, so strange that he keeps his distance from you almost constantly. After a long day, though, he can't help but crave that strange, inebriating feeling.

Warnings: heavy petting, whipped/needy/pervy Illumi (possibly OOC), suggested smut, no editing, mentions of death/blood/etc. (yk just normal Illumi tingz).

MINORS/AGELESS ACCS DNI

It wasn't normal for the eldest Zoldyck son to feel fickle emotions such as anxiety or stress. Hell, it was hard for him to feel anything at all, and if his father caught wind of these developing feelings there'd be Hell to pay. That didn't stop the irregular beating of Illumi's heart as he calmly drove a pin deeper into the skull of his latest unlucky target. He was an older fellow and, from what Illumi had read, a crooked politician. That didn't matter to him, of course. The only thing bothering Illumi at the moment were memories of your arms around him, memories of the softness of your skin.

A frustrated growl escaped the slender male's chest as he drove the golden pin deeper than he should've thus ending the poor old man's life. Disgust painted its way across Illumi's features as he staired at the now lifeless corpse below him. He'd meant to keep him around a little bit longer.

"Hm? Dead already? Don't tell me you're losing your touch!", came the grating voice of his killing companion, Hisoka Morrow. Usually, Illumi let his distaste for the brightly colored clown settle in the back of his mind, but today was different. Today, he was high strung and ready to brutally murder the aforementioned male. Illumi directed a particularly sharp pin in Hisoka's general vicinity. "I'll kill you. Right here, right now.", he hissed earning an unfazed stare in return. "You've used that threat too many times for it to be affective.", the clown muttered while kicking the corpse into a nearby body bag, "Seriously, what's gotten into you? You've been acting weird all day and it's creeping me out.".

Illumi glared at the back of Hisoka's head and considered how much effort it'd take to remove it completely. After a second of thought, he deemed it a waste of his time and checked the time on his phone. The numbers '1:38 am' glowed from the screen almost tauntingly. If he was going to make it to your bed tonight, he'd have to leave now.

The dark-haired male looked up and found himself face to face with his mischievous counterpart. After seeing how long he'd stared into his screen, Hisoka could just about read Illumi's mind. "Go ahead then, loverboy, I'll take care of this old geezer. Don't keep your little lady waiting! ~". A nod was all Illumi could muster as he began sprinting back toward the city. Before he was out of earshot, he could make out Hisoka yelling something about meeting you some time in the future.

"Over your dead body.", Illumi thought as he caught sight of the glittering horizon. There was no way Hisoka would ever live to see the day that Illumi would allow something of his to be tainted by his presence.

Ten minutes.

______________________________________________________________

That's how long it took for Illumi to make it to the outside of your windowsill. Now, as he sat perched on the stone ledge jutting out of the building, he wondered if he should just suffer through the night and contact you in the morning. Consideration was another new thing Illumi found himself struggling with after you'd wormed your way into his life.

Just as he prepared to drop from the sill, he caught sight of your silhouette entering the room. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you stretch from behind your silvery curtains. All previous thoughts of leaving exited Illumi's mind and other... explicit ones began to make his head swim with need. Slowly, the assassin brought a bloodied hand to your window and began tapping incessantly. It didn't take long for your figure to still and cautiously approach the window. The closer you got, the more he found himself leaning into the cold glass. If you didn't open it soon, he wouldn't mind breaking in...

To say he wasn't amused at the brief flash of fear in your eyes when you finally got the courage to open your curtains would be a lie. When you finally slowed the beating of your heart and opened the window, Illumi was in the room before the glass was fully open. "I'm home.", he breathed out into the warm, vanilla scented room. You leaned forward a little to shut the window, not missing the blood and earth littering his skin and clothes. "I can see that...", you hummed with an eyeroll, "I almost pushed your ass out of that window.". Illumi let the threat slip through one ear and out the other as he took in your smaller frame. You'd happen to wear those dainty little pajamas he'd bought you not too long ago; the ones with the thin top and shorts just barely long enough to keep you warm at night.

The only thing that should be keeping your warm at night was him.

His eyes followed your figure as you rummaged through your closet for a second. "Here, take these.", you started while throwing him a pair of his joggers and underwear he'd left and directed him toward your bathroom, "I'll be here when you're finished". Illumi stood there for a moment and let his eyes trace your form before stalking off toward the bathroom. The quicker he was clean, the faster he could indulge himself in your presence. He wanted to lie and say that he was using you for some sort of personal gain, wanted to say you were a pawn in one of his many games. He couldn't though... not when he could feel the ice thawing in his chest when you held him close, not when your hands made him as weak as they did.

As the warm water washed the filth from his skin, any traces of the strength his father had instilled in him washed away with it. All thoughts left his mind as he breathed in your scent through clouds of steam.

When he finally finished showering and dressing, he crept toward your room door silently. He watched as you scrolled through your phone unaware of his prying eyes. Suddenly, your eyes met his and you sat up with a smile, curls falling into your face. "Don't just stand there, idiot! Come here and let me take care of you.", you beckoned. One second Illumi was at the edge of your doorframe and the next he was settled between your plush thighs. His eyes closed as you whispered sweet nothings into air while drying his hair with the towel he'd subconsciously brought to you. If you were to kill him now, he wouldn't mind in the slightest. It'd only be fitting considering how weak you'd managed to make him by simply existing.

"I've killed for you... and I'll do it again.", he whispered into your skin. It was a truth he would usually leave unspoken, a truth you'd suspected long before its uttering. "I know, pretty boy, I know.", you hummed softly while tossing the towel into an unknown corner.

"I want to consume you. All of you will be mine and there's nothing you can do to stop me.", he purred as you held his face close to yours and peppered it with cocoa butter scented kisses. "I know, pretty boy, I know.", you breathed just before your lips locked with his.

The kiss lasted a lot longer than the ones he'd dealt you in the past. This one was filled with unsatiable hunger, it was filled with greed. Illumi rose to cage you underneath him and let his lips roam every inch of your skin available to him. He listened to your breathing change, and he knew he had you where he wanted you. Carefully, with lips and teeth etching praises into your neck, he pressed your thighs against your chest and your ankles on his shoulders. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the tinkling sound of the anklets he'd had designed specifically for you and his sweats became too tight for comfort.

Illumi broke away from the intoxicating taste of your skin and sat back to assess the damage he'd caused. You were a sight to behold; brown skin littered with hickeys, unshed tears prickling at your lash line, and clothes barely covering your body. Illumi wanted nothing more than to make those tears fall from your eyes and rid your body of the fabric separating your skin from his. Still, consideration nipped at the back of his mind as he observed the tiredness in your eyes as well. He'd been thinking too long, apparently, because your hands were back on his face pulling him in for another long kiss.

Illumi decided that he'd send you off to sleep with a treat.

A muffled gasp fell from your lips onto his as he snaked a hand between your bodies and began toying with you through your shorts. To his surprise, and delight, they were the only thing between his hand and that sensitive spot he liked to abuse. Illumi drank in the broken whimpers and moans you offered him with unabashed fervor. Soon, his lips wandered blessing his ears with the sweet sounds of your pleas. He found himself licking a long stripe up from the base of your neck to a sensitive spot he'd discovered not too long ago.

Illumi practically purred at the feeling of your nails drawing patterns into the skin of his back that would undoubtedly be left for him to see in the morning. "If anyone ever tries to take you from me, I'll kill them. Mine... all mine.. only mine.", he whispered into ear as he felt your thighs quiver on either side of him, "That's it, sweet thing. Come for me, I know you can do it. Make me proud.". As you came, tears slipping down your cheeks, Illumi almost came undone at the sight.

Curtains of long, raven-colored hair surrounded you, allowing your eyes to be trained on the dark ones peering down at you with a twisted look of love and warmth. As your consciousness slowly ebbed away, the comforting weight of Illumi's body on top of yours lulled you into a sense of security. Illumi watched you fall asleep as he removed his hand from between your thighs and shut his own eyes. He ignored the twitching in his pants as he too lost consciousness. It didn't bother him that he was falling asleep unsatisfied.

He'd simply have his fill of you in the morning.

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: HOTD

Character: Daemon Targaryen

Pairing: Platonic

Type of fic: Concept

Extra info: Daemon sees fem!Reader as a daughter, even if she's not his own child. (Whether she's Alicent's daughter or Rhaenyra's daughter is up to you)

-🥝 anon

OOO! DAD DAEMON? Let me try my best at this. Hope this wasn't too OOC?

Yandere! Platonic! Daemon Targaryen with Daughter! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Murder, Blood, Mild gore/Grotesque descriptions, Isolation, Spying, Dubious companionship.

If Daemon was your biological father, you'd have to be a bastard he had with another woman who he then took in as his daughter.

Regardless... Daemon seems like an intimidating father?

Of course he's going to be fiercely protective and most likely never hurt his daughter, yet he may sometimes scare you.

He's a man of action, ambition, and murder.

So... by the sound of that... he isn't the most traditional father.

By Targaryen standards, that probably sounds about right though.

I don't think Daemon is very nurturing either as he isn't around his other daughters most of the time.

He's off doing his own thing, most likely wooing ladies or looking for more combat.

Yet when it comes to you, he's... oddly attentive?

Most of the time you are with Rhaenyra.

Especially if he takes you in as his own near when the family falls apart after his brother's death.

Daemon's treatment of you would be unfair.

Which would be even stranger if you were a bastard he sired at one point in time.

He's not known to see his children often.

He still does since he cares for them, but it's like he isn't sure how to be... there for them?

Even with you, who's seemingly his favorite for one reason or another, he seems unsure how to approach you at times.

He may also just be bad with daughters.

After all, you aren't meant to get yourself covered in blood like he is.

You're a Targaryen, perhaps even one with a dragon of your own, yet Daemon is the one who primarily fights for you.

Daemon doesn't care what others think about him when it comes to you.

You're his daughter, he recognizes that.

It's just strange to many that he actually seems to try and be caring to you.

He'll have you meet his daughters, he'll allow you around Rhaenyra's boys.

While many would think he'd be absent...

For some reason he isn't with you?

It's not quite coddling... He's just more involved than he is with the others.

He oversees your dragon riding, he often turns down betrothals proposed to you...

He's protective and caring in his own way.

It even gets a bit... overwhelming for you.

When he does leave to go attend other duties, it's like he always knows what you're doing.

Knowing Daemon, wouldn't surprise me if he hired someone to keep tabs on you.

If he can't be there, he'll find other ways to know what you're doing.

Daemon wouldn't really go out of his way to teach his darling to fight.

Although you'd most likely learn at some point due to the fact you're around children who know how to.

He doesn't really want you fighting, but accepts you at least learning how.

He's not the most affectionate father, his brother was probably better at that for the most part (Stretching it)...

But he's certainly protective.

Daemon would not accept you being bad mouthed.

The people may whisper about you, they always do when it comes to Targaryens.

Yet if Daemon ever catches them?

He'll cut out their tongue and make things bloody.

He's known for being a ruthless warrior.

Many fear him for that and that's why many avoided him being king.

You know your father is this way.

But while he may argue with Rhaenyra or get into physical altercations with others...

He's strangely gentle with you.

He loves you, he really does.

Most of the time he shows if by protecting your honor... in the most brutal way possible.

Sometimes, however... He enjoys holding his beloved daughter, just to feel a bit more grounded.

Especially when he's at Harrenhal, he most likely wishes to take you with him...

All those nightmares are going to break him, know that?

Daemon is no traditional father, yet overprotective fits him.

As time goes on he may go from mostly absent to involved.

He loves your smile and can't believe how pretty you've become.

That also means he isn't going to betroth you to just anyone.

Oftentimes when lords ask to marry you to their sons for negotiations and politics, Daemon turns hostile and dismissive.

"Leave her out of this, she will not be some broodmare for your son."

Does this lose some political connections or causes tension? Sometimes.

Daemon doesn't care, he's always been a selfish man.

His daughter isn't going to have such a fate.

You'll stay beside him, under his protection, for as long as he can pull it off.

If he finds someone for you, then he will approve of any marriages.

Most of the time when others bring it up he just wants to feed them to Caraxes.

Having a daughter during this time period is meant to be a way to get heirs, yes.

But Daemon cares more about your protection than that.

Daemon could be considered manipulative for making his daughter only trust him...

Again, he doesn't care.

Yandere! Daemon as a father is overprotective no matter the cost.

While not the most affectionate, he keeps an eye on his daughter.

Even when he's not around, you know Daemon has you in mind.

How could you not when you hear news of him slaughtering some other poor fool for bringing you up?

Some may call him overprotective, but to Daemon...

This is his form of love...

He doesn't plan to let you go until he approves of it... If he ever will.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod BF/GF Scenario

Bringing your boyfriend/girlfriend to Sephora (or a cosmetics store because of course my third world country doesn't have Sephora)

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Reader is described to be shorter than all Characters.

And yes I'm aware that some of these scenarios have the same characters because I thought they fit more than one.

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: Hii! Lia here, these past few weeks have been so freaking brutal on me lovelies but I wanted to write this to feed you guys <3 (Also, this is a 2.5k like special since I just reached it AHHHH)

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Disclaimers/Warnings: None, OOC???, pure fluff haters be warned.

His arm is just perfect for swatches, lots of space, he lets out a deep chuckle whenever you take his muscular arm and compare the swatch side by side to your face to see if the color would match you. He fakes being annoyed but definitely doesn't mind that you drag him around, adorable dynamic between you being tiny dragging a big burly man around, in the lip product isle no less.

Characters: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, König.

Is the sweet boyfriend who saw your eyes light up the moment you saw the store and offered you to go in, again doesn't mind if you use his arm for swatches. Looks at the products that they think will look good on you and sometimes picks up a thing or two for you to try and will definitely do that fist thing that guys do whispering a silent "yes!" of accomplishment (this thing), they're so proud of themselves when you like the item they picked out.

Characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Goes with you because they like seeing you all dolled up, will pay attention and know when you're using a product that you bought with them during the shopping trip even if that was a few weeks back. So pretty for them that it triggers their possessiveness just a bit.

Characters: John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Would tease you about liking these kinds of things but would silently admire you from your shared bed while you put skincare or makeup on, sometimes they use the skincare on themselves secretly and you'd just wonder why your skincare products are getting empty a lot quicker.

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.

Doesn't want to be there but seeing you liking those things amuses them, will secretly buy something behind your back that they think would look so pretty on you and leave it on your vanity for you to find and will smirk if they find you using in a few days later.

Characters: Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, Keegan P. Russ, Makarov. (For my delulu Makarov lovers ( it's so OOC though ahaha)

[brain4stew]

Hear me out...Mafiaso and rabbit!reader???

…Hehehhehe… I love getting Mafioso requests… THAT MAN. FINE AS HELL FOR NO REASON.

Tysm anon for this request of yours! 🫶🫶

(Again, I do not entirely know the characters exact personalities and so on, so they might, if not most likely will be OOC!!)

That being said, headcanons/something is under the cut! ;

• To say that Mafioso loves you, is an understatement. He adores you, and wants to protect you.

• Whenever you’re asleep, by or on him, you can bet that he will carefully and gently pat your head, and rub your ears.

• You’re just so precious to him! Even his own bunny loves you! (The bunny thinks you’re its parent… Cute!!)

• Whenever you’re cold, boom. His coat is magically on you, and wrapped around you. And you are being carried. (You feel sleepy with the coat, for some reason.)

• (For the sake of this post, you’ll be a survivor.)

• In rounds, he’ll immediately go and find you, wanting to stay by his rabbit. (You.)

• He’ll either be friendly, or he’ll be brutal towards the others. (He might have killed Chance, for bugging both you and him…)

• Whenever you’re done with generators, and have nothing to do, he either scoops you up into his arms, or he just… Stares.

• If he does just stare, and you go to Noob and Shedletsky, as they’re dancing with each other. You also dance with them, whilst Mafioso watches.

• Back in the lobbies, you go outside, and just, lay down on the ground, enjoying the night breeze. (Will it ever be day in the lobbies?)

• Mafioso, somehow manages to get to your lobby, and just, sits down by you.

• You’re just so adorable, he can’t leave his precious rabbit alone… Especially with that gambler around…