I hope this isn't too weird to say but Sky is a comfort character of mine. Sometimes I'll be at work and the day is rough and everything is overwhelming and I'll be like "I need to spend an hour in a giant gut to chill out."
GOSH no I love that omg. I want Sky to be the type that people feel comfortable approaching for that sorta stuff!
REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”Steve spends some quality time on the couch with Bucky’s little dollhouse between his legs. A continuation of the Dehumanization of Bucky Barnes series.”
It’s been three days, and Steve has shown no sign of getting tired with Bucky’s new living situation. His little dollhouse, size-adjustable with the same remote as the one that controls Bucky’s own size… they grow and shrink together on Steve’s whim, shifting from half the scale of a Barbie dream house all the way down to Polly Pocket depending on Steve’s mood.
One thing that has remained consistent, though, is the dollhouse’s position on the kitchen table. Always there when Steve passes by, always there for him to stand in front of and hover over, always there to shake and jolt with each footstep of Steve’s as he passes through the room. Always there – until tonight.
“I just wanna spend a little quality time together, Buck,” Steve says lightly, after lifting the roof of his six inch home off and setting it aside entirely. Without it, from every single room in the house, all Bucky can see when he looks up is Steve’s broad chest and smiling face. It would look friendly, if Bucky weren’t able to so clearly see that look in his eyes, that mischievous look that never, ever spells anything good for him.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer before Steve’s enormous fingers have wrapped around the house and begun to lift it, but that hardly matters. Bucky’s answers haven’t made a difference in weeks; half the time he thinks Steve probably can’t even hear him, and the other half his protests just seem to turn Steve on even harder.
The house lists unevenly with Steve’s casual, graceless carry, sending his plastic dining room table toppling over, chairs scattering, and Bucky barely managing to grab onto the doorway to stabilize himself. Great, pounding strides propel them across the kitchen, down the hall, and into the living room, where gravity promptly plummets as Steve sits down on the couch, lowering Bucky down along with him.
Eventually, everything settles again, and Bucky is able to take stock of the situation. In the background and through the open plastic windows at the front of the house, Bucky can hear and just make out the television playing something he doesn’t pay much attention to at first. To the left and right sides, through those windows, are only tall towering walls of flesh tone. And then, above him, no matter which room he steps into, the view is the same…
Steve has placed the dollhouse between his legs on the couch cushion, and he’s just as naked as he always is these days in Bucky’s proximity. The house is tilted ever so slightly, angled by the slope of the couch cushion, everything gently tilted in a permanent pull towards Steve’s enormous balls, which press right up against the back of the house and even sag slightly in the back bedroom windows. His towering cock fills up half of the sky, framed by washboard abs, and high above that cementing the rest of everything is Steve’s smirking face beaming down at him around his own half-hard dick.
“How ‘bout we watch a little TV for a few hours?” He asks wryly, lifting his eyes to the television. For a while, that really is all there is – half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes. Just long enough for Bucky to begin letting his guard down, for his attention to wander, for him to begin to occupy his time with other things. This is, of course, when Steve’s massive hand sweeps in silently overhead to wrap around the middle of his cock and tug it gently upward in a quiet, wordless stroke.
What makes for an innocuous movement to Steve sends Bucky’s entire house lurching; the back wall had been pressed right up against his sack, the only thing stopping its continued descent down the couch slope. Steve stroking himself up lifted his balls in turn, and the tiny little house went spilling ever-deeper toward Steve’s body – right up until the downstroke.
It’s only now that Bucky realizes what a mistake it had been to try and get some rest in his little bedroom before the inevitable onslaught. Steve’s heavy balls roll over the top of the house and come spilling in heavily through the roof, settling heavily down on Bucky’s dresser, his little nightstand, and, of course, atop the bed he’d been lying on. In a second the wind is knocked out of him by the sheer weight of Steve’s left testicle, sagging skin pressing into every inch of his body, his face, his mouth.
“Steve-” he wheezes uselessly, squirming and pushing his tiny little limbs into doughy, wrinkly skin in a vain attempt to make enough room to inhale. His voice couldn’t possibly carry through all that weighted flesh, so it must be his squirming that has Steve pausing to glance down at the little house where it’s half-disappeared beneath his nutsack.
“Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice a low, distracted mumble. The weight on Bucky lifts somewhat as he continues on with his second stroke, only to roll back down over top of him on the next downstroke. “Oh… sorry about that, pal. Looks like you slipped under there, huh? Here..”
Steve’s sack continues to rise and fall over Bucky’s entire body as his right hand continues to work, while his left goes hunting for something. A low rumble from Steve’s chest, a deep and appreciative mmm, accompanies the next stroke, and his left hand stops searching for a second as he’s consumed, distracted, by a pleasant spike of pleasure in his own grip.
Finally, finally, his hand alights on the remote, and he releases his cock to fish around absently under his balls, enormous fingers slamming down on either side of the house to steadily peel it out from under himself. Once it’s settled an inch or two away again, he points the remote down at the house, and Bucky feels the familiar sensation of dwindling. Sees the familiar sight of Steve’s body expanding from mountainous to inconceivably titanic again as his house slips down to a size smaller even than a single one of the testicles he’d just been pinned under.
“There. That ought to help,” Steve supplies pleasantly, wearing a smile that reads you’re welcome, like he’s done Bucky a tremendous favor by reducing him all over again. The remote tumbles absently to the couch, and Steve begins to stroke himself off again – this time without even the pretense of watching television. He’s just starring directly down at Bucky’s little house, breathing heavily as his hand slowly works his gigantic cock.
Steve’s right – it does help; the grade feels much more gradual now that the house is smaller, and so it rests more steadily on the slope, no longer slinking down to be consumed by a sack that would swallow the entire house if it landed on it again.
What begins to concern Bucky now is just how long this entire affair lasts. He keeps expecting Steve to tease him, warn him, threaten him with that playful gonna cum on you, Buck-, but minutes tick by without it happening. The longer he lies on his bed bracing himself, the longer the seconds seem to take, tense and rigid with expectation, but Steve just keeps jerking, and breathing, and keeping his pace slow.
“Relax, pal,” his deep voice carries all around Bucky eventually, a low, thick chuckle hiding in his words, the depth of his arousal apparent in the husky nature of it. “I’m just gonna edge for a while. You worry too much. Quality time, remember? Just watch a little TV. Spend a couple hours with your old pal, huh?”
It’s capped off with a sharp tss, a firmer grip on his cock, and a swift double-time jerk before Steve cools off and paces himself again, slipping back into his languid, lazy rhythm. God, but it lasts so long. Minutes turn into half an hour, which turns into an hour, and Bucky can’t bring himself to let his guard down the entire time.
The sky above him is nothing but Steve jerking himself off. No attempt at reading a book, no effort to watch the television out of the front windows, no distraction in his entire home can block out the sight or sound of Steve jacking himself off as he stares down at Bucky in his little house, watching him tense, watching him brace himself to drown in a load of cum all over again.
He’s staring up again from his couch some time later when his dread is proven valid; Steve’s eyes have fluttered closed as he’s given himself over to a particularly delicious self-indulgent rhythm, and Bucky watches the first dribble of precum begin to pearl on the tip of the monolith towering over his house.
“Steve…” Bucky warns – pleads – but all he gets for his effort is another distracted hum that Steve doesn’t even follow up on. He’s too busy letting his brow knit, letting his lips part, letting a low moan of arousal and satisfaction run through him as that droplet begins to descend, stringy and thick, slow-motion falling toward Bucky’s little house. “Steve!”
It’s too late. The heaviness of the drop finally causes it to break away from Steve’s weeping tip, and it plummets down, spattering directly into Bucky’s tiny home. Even this one small string, this one pearly droplet, is devastating. It soaks Bucky, soaks the couch, soaks the floor. It gets fucking everywhere, and only Bucky’s dragging his hand over his face to clear it do Steve’s eyes finally open to stare down at him.
“Oops… did I get a little bit on ya? Aw, I’m sorry, buddy,” he breathes roughly, jerking harder, his pupils blown wide and dark. Another, thicker, heavier droplet begins to form, pearling and slipping down the tip of his dick, spilling over his jerking, massaging fingers – and Steve watches it. They both watch it. And they both watch Steve do absolutely not a single damn thing to prevent the next one from dribbling down to soak Bucky’s house all over again, devastated by just his fucking precum.
Y’know. I feel that everyone has their favorite “thing” in g/t, and by thing I mean body part - if that makes sense lol. Like you have those who really enjoy hand held interactions, those who really enjoy when a tiny is sitting on a giants chest or in a shirt pocket. Or if it makes more sense this way, a different interaction point in a g/t space. Whether if it’s an auditory thing (hearing a giants heart beat) or a sensory thing (feeling the warmth radiating off of a giants chest or hands), most seem to have their favorite “thing”.
For me however, I don’t know why. But my favorite thing/interaction point has, and will always be a giants face/head. Perhaps it’s because of my preference for larger sizes and with larger sizes connective points get a bit harder to do, so the one way to really get that point going (in my preference) is by putting your characters (literally) eye to eye.
It’s just such an interesting/comforting thing for me. No matter how small and “insignificant” you are compared to this person, you and only you, are at the center of their attention, their world one could say.
When their face is right up to you, you can reach your hand out and run your hand down their nose bridge, or perhaps if you are on a higher point, across their eyebrows. Feeling the thick but smooth hairs bump and move under your hand as you “caress” your giant counterpart. Staring into an eye as big as your head. An ocean of color that ripples in response to you.
Maybe you feel a warm breath blow onto you as you lay next to their turned head. One could put it in comparison with a slight warm breeze. Warming your core every time if falls upon you.
Maybe sitting atop a jungle of their hair as they walk around doing their business for the day. Surrounded by the possibility overbearing smell of their shampoo, but trying your best to ignore it. The sways of their walking threatening to put you to sleep.
Guys idk what it is, but the image of a tiny person next to a giants head makes me go feral. The giant’s warm gaze lying upon this person with such an overbearing and loving affection, they smile softly, no words needed to describe how they feel. And the tiny returns it back, both starting into each other’s eyes sleepily but lovingly. They are each others worlds. There is no touching at first, there doesn’t always need to be. The warmth of each other’s presence being more than enough for them.
But not enough for me so here we go
Then the giant moves their face in. First their nose as they slightly nuzzle their tiny partner, both giggling in response. The giant backs away for a bit to get a better hold and understanding of the situation. After both calm down the giants eyes soften in a “I love you so fucking much” sort of tone. In a very slow, and delicate movement they bring their head right next to their tiny partner, lift and turn it a slight bit, and kiss them with soft lips. It’s a delicate form of affection, one that would barely register to a normal person, but to the tiny, they felt a dominating force of warmth fall over them. As the giant begins to move their head away the tiny grasps onto the tip of their nose before they can fully escape, keeping the giant where they were
The tiny then sits up and right in front of the giant’s lips. Lips partially cracked, letting a warm air escape between them, softly washing over their tiny lover. The tiny, softly kisses the giant in return on their upper lip. A kiss barely perceptible by the giant, but oh does it make their heart flutter.
The giant then lays their lead right next to the tiny. Not enough for them to be able to touch without effort, but enough so that both of them took up each others entire view. And they stayed like this. Perhaps the tiny would reach of their hand every now and then to stroke the giants nose. The giant perhaps moving their own hand behind the tiny to cup them slightly. Both slowly drifting off into sleep. The giant with their world in their hand and the tiny with theirs surrounding them.
Holy yap. Anyway, I need to study. This might have been my brain’s cry out for help.
She's eating pudding btw and Roy is so used to seeing her like that 😭
He doesn't really like very sweet things so mostly when there's some untouched desserts from a visit or smt mollie takes care of them. He worries she'll get diabetes but hates throwing away food 💀
thinking today about a tiny grinding on their giant's dick, and he's sitting there doing his best to be good and sit still, because what his tiny is doing feels very nice but they're chasing their own orgasm, not his, and he's not allowed to move or touch them, not allowed to make any adjustments, so he's just sitting as still as he can, enjoying the sensations and wishing there was a bit more, but right now being good for his tiny is more important than getting off. and he's being so so good
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