*explodes*

War eats pussy like it's to be conquered. He's teeth and tongue, practically gnawing at your cunt with a ravenous efficiency. This doesn't mean he knows what he's doing-like at all. He's completely virginal to the concept and even has a moment where he literally thinks you're asking him to Eat you like an animal and vehemently refuses, until you explain that no it's not like that and yes you mean it. Even then it takes coaxing to get him where you want him.

Until he tastes you.

It's like a switch gets flipped and suddenly he can't breathe without the taste of you burned onto his tongue. You're like the finest tonic he's ever had and he will drink you with near violent relish. His tremor gauntlet will pin you down if you try to squirm away-carefully but with a firmness that;s unusual to him. When you're near the edge he drags you up against his chest, holding you upside down and dragging his mouth into your pussy like he's drinking from a chalice.

When you finally squirt into his mouth he snarls louder than a demon. He'll lick off every drop he can find and then try to get you to do it again. Only when you;ve hit his head several times does he come back to his senses and apologize, though you can tell he wants to do it again. And he's rock hard with it pressing against your back. Good luck.

Death is...interesting. Again, you're not getting that mask off. It stays on regardless.

That's not going to stop him from getting creative.

Death is…interesting. Again, you're not getting that mask off. It stays on regardless.

That's not going to stop him from getting creative.

He'll make you sit on his face, mask and all. When you ask he'll stare at you intensely from beneath you before dragging your hips down onto him. The mask is cool to the touch-especially against your overheated skin. It's almost enough to make you want to jump away but his firm grip prevents you.

You're forced into grinding your cunt over the uneven but smooth surface at a painfully slow pace. The little ridges catch on your sensitive flesh in random ways that drive you to gasping every pull. Eventually you're doing it on your own clutching onto his arms to hold yourself steady.

But you can feel his hot breath on your cunt. Heavy, deep wafts of scorching air burning against you as your pussy drools all over his mask. He hasn't stopped staring at you with that intense expression but something lingers under the surface like a dark tide, long fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he tries to ride it out, hold himself together just long enough.

The second you whimper his name he breaks.

You're shoved up from the mask and held there just long enough that you don't have time to question what he's doing as the sound of bone crunching loose is all you get before you're being yanked onto his face again. It's his iron grip on you that prevents you from leaping away as a long wet tongue slides right through your soaking cunt. You can feel the barest scratch of sharp teeth on your lower lips as he mouths at your hole while playing with your clit with the tip of his tongue, until he grows bored of that and stuffs it into your cunt without remorse. His snarling groan is muffled underneath your weight as he drowns in your taste and heat with animalistic relish.

When you finally come it explodes out of you, clenching onto his tongue and squirming on his face. He holds you there, growling at every little twitch you make both inside and out. His tongue has not stopped lapping at you, still trying to drag out any lasting dregs of your release even after you reach overstimulation and are forced to fall off of him to get away. There is a bit of mercy in him letting you go without complaint.

He's clicking the mask back on while you're still trying to gather yourself and when you look at him he doesn;t even seem winded, as if he hadn;t just eaten you out like he had something to prove. But you can see the glistening wetness along his cheeks just beneath the mask, trailing down his neck to his chest.

✦War is destruction on the horizon. Devastation wrought by hand and weapon, bearer of coming death-so he understands his strength better than anyone else. He may be able to crush boulders in his hands, but he won't ever hurt you. At least not willingly.

✦Regardless to all his self control, sometimes he loses patience badly. It's rare, for him to turn that rage to you, but he'd rather die than have you fear him. When or if his anger ever gets that bad he'll find ways to exert it anywhere but you.

✦As the horseman of War, he has the strongest understanding of anger and violence even outside of his own emotions. He knows what you may be angry for and why-better than even you may understand.

✦Because of that you won't ever get a real fight out of him. You can get angry all you want, he'll stifle his reaction best he can. He understands when he's made a mistake that upsets you, he'll admit to his faults plainly. He'll watch you throw your fit before speaking his peace.

✦Despite that he struggles with saying how much you mean to him. He's not the talkative type, as action is better suited to his needs. So he tries his best to make you feel wanted or at least welcome to his side whenever you please.

✦Not very keen on leaving you alone. Maybe it's the demon side of him wanting to keep you to himself that makes him follow you everywhere he can-unless you tell him no.

✦That armor stays on. Yes it's bulky, yes it gets in the way-its as much a part of him as Chaoseater, and there is little that can part him from it.

✦He won't ever admit that he worries about leaving you with the other humans. They may be your people but, he knows their worst sins come from sheer aggression-some deep part of him fears you'll get involved somehow and get hurt.

✦May not be one for banter but enjoys your voice. Hearing you speak out of complete trust in him makes his already scorching body somehow feel warmer.

✦Hesitated touching you with his gauntlet once he realized his attachment to you. It's not that he can't control his strength, so much as he's concerned it may make you feel oppressed in his grip.

✦Sleeps rarely but deeply. He's like a living furnace as he keeps one hand over your back, preferring you sleep either on top of him or next to him. You're not waking him up unless you break something next to him, then be prepared to have a moody somewhat panicking War when he finds you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Yeah you know I'm not done.

+NSFW extra+

✦The armor will come off when he's in the mood. Or, better yet, you can coax it off of him to convince him that you are.

✦Not so much slow as he is steady, but powerful. Every thrust will feel like he's going into your stomach no matter how slow he is. There's a lot of strength in those hips.

✦Many scars but not a lot that are more than a silver thread on his skin. His angel side helps keep them to a lesser degree so they don't inhibit his abilities.

✦Not super patient, but bites his tongue for you. He'll make himself wait until you are ready.

✦You can goad him into losing that patience. However, if you do, be warned you're not getting up until he's done. And you won't be walking until at least tomorrow.

✦Sensitive around his neck and ears as it;s always covered in that cowl. You'll get a surprise flush and gasp if you get bold enough to bite him there.

✦Large of course, hefty with girth and length. It's intimidating to look at and you kind of worry it might not fit at first. War might not be the most experienced in bed but he does well in learning to loosen you up to make it fit.

✦The entire time he wears an expression of intense focus to the point he almost looks angry. Hes not but is doing his best not to crush you.

✦Can be convinced to use his gauntlet to haul you up and use you like a fleshlight who said that-

✦Covers your whole body with his own to hide you away. This is his to see, his to make writhe and scream his name-no one will get even a glimpse so long as he lives.

✦Snarls at even the slightest noises when he's close to climax. He knows he'll be at his weakest for a few moments when he reaches it and refuses to let anything near you-nor will he stop.

✦Interruptions don't matter. You are his, whoever or whatever just came in can wait it's turn. He will keep fucking you full even if a demon walks in, his hand on Chaoseater while the other holds your hip to keep you from squirming away.

✦Cums hard, cums a lot. It will seep out of you like a tide. Hides his face in your neck to bask in your scent and warmth-if nobody is there to deal with.

✦Will later admit he should have stopped if someone had come in, as it's unbecoming of him to act like a beast over you.

✦If not, be prepared to have the full weight of a nephilim on you for a while-or at least a large sum of it. Even with him bracing himself up with his gauntlet you still feel like you're being crushed underneath Ruin's gait. He makes it up to you by letting the soft rumbling in his throat fill your ears.

✦Death is oblivion, destruction's conclusion, end of all things. You should fear him as everyone else does-but you don't. Not because you are brave, but because under all that thorny hide Death is kind.

✦Even though he's sharp tongued he is much tamer to you. The backhanded compliments and witty insults aren't as often-unless you fire back some quips of your own. He enjoys your wit, as he is snark personified.

✦You are a secret he jealously protects. No one will know you exist so long as he wills it-until Strife follows him to where he's hidden you.

✦Surprisingly does trust Strife to keep it a secret regardless, at least from the universe at large. Now keeping it from the other horsemen is a different challenge-and if he's honest, he's more willing to share it with War than Fury.

✦Grim humor is the best way to make him laugh, rusty as it is. He doesn't laugh often either so cherish what you get out of him.

✦The rumors are true, Death stinks-but not like a corpse does. He reeks of old parchment and burned incense. Of metal chipped and steel broken, all burned till none but ash remained. He smells of a history long gone. And depression, though that's more the lingering stench of sweat on him.

✦He will do a bit better at his personal upkeep as he's with you. The smoke won't ever leave his skin completely but it will be less intense-if you like the smell of an old library then you'll be fine.

✦ His hair, however, always remains a bit denser with grime. He can't help it much, scythes are a dirty kind of weapon, you see.

✦A creature of finesse over strength. While he won't hurt you, those blades will sometimes turn to you-though not to harm so much as to tease. He'll trail the edge over your skin lightly so not a nick will be left but you will feel it long after he's left you be. He knows it leaves you bothered and it amuses him so much.

✦Though he is pleasant there are times when his patience snaps. He will say things that hurt you, but his tongue is like a dagger of silver. Some of what he says are lies to scare you off-he is Death, the End, the Oblivion. What makes you different from everyone else? What keeps you here with him?

✦Not good at apologizing when he goes too far. Not good at staying away when he'd wronged you either. Somehow he'll meet you halfway with something to offer, be it his word or a gift. Not always does he get it right.

✦He gets quieter when speaking of your people's fate. Though it's been undone, he feels guilt for what has been done. Time will tell if humanity fully recovers-maybe then the weight will lift.

✦That mask is not coming off. Do not ask-you get maybe a few times to question before this, but after? No. He won't subject you to that-to himself.

✦His skin is always cool to the touch and nearly makes you jump every time he touches you. He still makes fun of you over it.

✦Despite that somehow he's not unpleasant to sleep with. His cool skin works in your favor as it's akin to always having the cool side of a pillow. Does he sleep? Not really, but sometimes indulges.

✦Prefers you to stay next to him when you sleep and is always there come night. He might not always hold you but allows you to cling to him.

✦The few times he does sleep he hides his face, mask and all, in your hair. He can't get enough of your scent, the smell of something alive that willingly walks into the hands of Death. Its.....comforting, to know he has you, but has not truly claimed you as he does everything else.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Oh yeah, you know what's next

+NSFW extra+

✦Possessive like War, but not so much claiming as it is consuming. Your everything belongs to him: your body, your sounds, your wriggling flesh under his grasp. You are completely his, no other shall see a hair off your head until he is through.

✦He holds you like you're prey trying to get away. It's claw and fang-proverbially at least-keeping you right where he wants you.

✦His body is like an old carcass, gaunt and bonelike-solid like stone. But while he is soft in a few places they are not easily found.

✦His neck remains sensitive despite that. It's where his blood flows, an easy target to any weapon brave enough-not like many get there. To feel your teeth on him here drives him mad and leaves him huffing with want.

✦He is the same here as he is in combat: ravenous, and brutally efficient. You are addicting, your tight heat calls him like a siren song. He needs it, craves it-he will get it. Wring your sweetness out drop by drop.

✦Everything in his body covets you like a drug. He buries his face in your hair, sinks his fingers into your flesh. Every noise and writhe is rewarded by a husky breath through the mask, hot like a still burning hearth.

✦Hides you beneath him like his brother War, but also secludes you off far, far away from prying eyes. You're not getting him to fuck you anywhere near people unless he's in a mood.

✦Keenly aware of his surroundings. Nothing gets close enough to hear you-he won't let it. He will leave you halfway in to deal with it, comes back high off the adrenaline as some deeply buried part of him revels in knowing he's just thwarted a possible opponent for you. Will never admit it but there will be signs.

✦Let's out raspy, hoarse hisses when you do something he likes. Doesn't make much other noises beside the few low groans you can pull out of him.

✦His grip grows tighter the closer he is to climax. He holds your hips higher, those hissing groans whispered into your neck until he slams you down under his weight, pinning you beneath him with no release.

✦Much like War he cums a lot, but much longer. Makes sure it stays in you as long as possible.

✦You will get that mask of once, and only once. When you are with him for the first time as you face away you'll hear the click of it coming off, then the sharp edges of teeth at your nape. It is his claim, the mark that makes you his as he rasps a harsh growl into the back of your neck.

✦Keeps you close to him even after he's finished. Now it's him clinging to you, refusing to let go until morning. You're lucky he's so cool otherwise you'd get smothered.

• Optics shuttered as he listens to those little sounds of yours, his hips pump. Still can’t believe he’d found you, that the universe has just dumped you into his lap, a little, unexpected organic mate. Wonders what you’d think if he told you he’d dreamed of hunting you during recharge. That he’d chased you down in his alt mode and transformed, pinned you down and rutted against you like an animal. Over and over. Would you let him do that? Hunt you? Knows he shouldn’t want that, shouldn’t be aroused at the thought, that it’s just his organic alt mode. Instincts he doesn’t want.

• You’re close when his hips begin snapping against you, the wet sound of his spike inside you mingling with his snarls and your moans and there’s something feral and freeing about it. About the two of you out here alone fucking in the woods. Even if he gets offended when you call it that. Your mate so honorable, so protective, but you love when he lets himself slip. When he gets angry and snarls at one of the other Maximals, when he lets go of that careful restraint and doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass.

• Servos flexing on your hips, mindful of his claws, he groans when you tremble and fist his spike. Whimpering his name when you shatter and he’s thrusting harder, hips pumping until he snarls and overloads inside you. Knowing he shouldn’t be doing this. That his organic alt mode is a little too compatible with you. That every time he claims you, it gets harder to not try to bond you. Draping himself against your back, he carefully pulls you down with him, lying on his side curled around you with his spike still pulsing in your wet heat. Venting raggedly, he hears his internal computer ping a warning about energon saturation. Wrapping an arm around you, he doesn’t want to go back yet. Doesn’t want this to end. And you squirm against him, a hand lifting to rub at your temple. Another ‘headache’ as you’d called it? “Let’s get you back, little one,” he murmurs as you protest.