#thrash eaters

[powderpinkandsweeet]

Ellie is a messy eater (nsfw, oral, fingering)

Like in the literal sense and otherwise. I can imagine you eating dinner together, and she doesn't realize that there's food on her face or in her teeth. Spaghetti for dinner means she’ll have orangey stains at the corners of her mouth and on her lips from the tomato sauce. You've always got her back, wiping at her puffed out cheeks with a napkin or your thumb. She always wipes the crumbs or food on her hands on her jeans, seeing no reason for a napkin or paper towel.

In the bedroom though she's a different kind of messy. She leaves no crumbs, for sure, but you would need a lot more than just a napkin to wipe the mess from her face this time.

In particular, I see loser!Ellie being ridiculously enthusiastic when she gets to fuck you. She can't help but be eager when it feels like her dirtiest dreams and fantasies are coming true. Sure, she'd come close by stealing one or two pairs of panties you hadn't realized were left on your bathroom floor, but she swore you were too good to be real. Panties still on, Ellie leans in close to take a long inhale of your scent.

She takes a long lick up your lips to get a mouthful and finally taste you. Moaning and sighing into your taste, Ellie is unable to stop even as you pull at her hair and thrash your legs. Her lithe arms are wrapped around your thighs, forearms strained to pin your hips against the mattress. Her muscles strained against your shivering thighs and bucking hips.

She never wants to come up for air so she huffs short breaths through her nose where it’s pressed against your clit. Ellie just can't get enough of you, so she'll keep eating until she's full up. As you whine and falter between begging for more or begging for a break, Ellie slips a hand down to fill your clenching pussy with two fingers. She sucks your clit into her mouth and pumps her fingers in and out of you. Ellie curls them up to hit the spot that makes your voice raise in pitch, and abuses it. Her forearm flexed and the veins in her arm raised as she pulled you toward an orgasm. Your voice left you, only able to pant and make choked noises as you came once again.

You tumbled head-first into another orgasm and Ellie refused to let up. She remained latched onto your pussy with her middle and ring finger jamming against your g-spot. You gripped Ellie’s hair tightly with both hands, attempting to yank her up. Her eyes remained closed and she remained firmly in place, a grunt of displeasure rumbling against your clit. With one hand still gripping Ellie’s hair, you reached down to where her left hand held your hip pinned to the bed. Weakly and with a trembling hand, you grip Ellie’s wrist, nails digging into her forearm. She hardly notices until you begin tapping on her arm repeatedly, the way one would when tapping out in a fight against her. Ellie’s hazy eyes open to lock onto your tired face. Realizing that you’d hit her limit, Ellie releases your clit from the suction of her mouth with an obscene “pop” that made you flinch. She presses a soft kiss to your clit and slowly withdraws her fingers from your pussy.

You’re both outright messes. You've become a puddle on the sheets, slicked with sweat, cheeks stained with tears, drool dripping down your chin, and resting in a pool of your own cum. You feel like you're floating, fucked dumb and ready for a nap. Ellie, though slightly more composed than you, looks a bit like she's run a marathon, if you exclude her face and fingers. When you regain your senses and see the brunette above you, she's sucking your cream off her fingers, sighing at the taste and seeming almost disappointed after it's gone. She leaves nothing behind, laving her tongue between her fingers to lick up the frothy white cum at the base of her fingers. She pulls them out and gulps down her mouthful, a rumble of “mmm” leaving her closed lips. The best part of it all is the big, dumb grin on Ellie's face when she takes in the view.

Ellie steps off the mattress to yank her phone from the nightstand. She swipes up on the cracked screen and enters her pin to open the camera app. You’re startled out of your haze by the flash of Ellie’s phone camera. She grins down at the picture and changes it to her Lock Screen.

[smallestapplin]

Wuwa spicy headcanons

Mdni! 18+ only!

Calcharo, Jiyan, and Scar going down on you. Afab version.

Very minor spoilers in scar's part, but also I'm feral for this damn game.

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Calcharo eats pussy like a man on a mission.

His movements are calculated and swift, he will either bring you to completion in seconds over and over and over again with no end in sight, letting you thrash in his tight hold, pull his hair, anything to just anchor yourself.

He has all your most sensitive spots memorized and uses them to bring you down before him. His rough hands gripping your thighs, keeping them from closing around his head. He almost sounds like a beast between your legs with how he grunts and groans.

Or, he teases you, letting sit on the edge of climaxing but never letting you fall off the edge. You cry, squirm, and plead all you want but he never falters.

You'll have your fingers twisted up in his long silver locks, your back arching and hips desperately trying to ride his face, but whether or not you cum is completely up to him.

Of course he's not so mean and domineering, in fact doing down on you is mostly for his pleasure.

It helps him wind down after a long day of working.

Or to have him sit back, his legs spread and patting his lap for you to sit on.

He is your personal seat, and it's where he can protect you the best.

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Or Jiyan

He's so slow and gentle when doing down on you, his face buried in your pussy but you hold all the power.

His hands on your thighs to keep them open, but his tongue slowly glides between your folds. Moving one hand to rest on top of your lower stomach so he can rub his thumb across your clit in tender circles.

His golden eyes always looking up at you with such a loving gaze, almost making sure you're feeling good.

He only moves faster when you ask him too, your mewls and gasps of his name going right to his cock but he tries to control himself. He tries not to hump the bed, wanting to save his load for when he's inside you, or when you beg to suck his dick.

He's a selfless lover, just wanting to spoil you, it takes him a while to feel comfortable to open up and let you return the favor.

When getting pegged he prefers to be on top, as he feels so vulnerable on his back.

And you get to see the great general Jiyan's muscles twitch and flex as he fucks himself on your dick.

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Scar is feral for you, anything for you, just give him a drop.

The moment you give him an inch he goes several miles.

He's loud and a messy eater, moaning and sobbing into your pussy as your juices coat his face. His eyes roll back while he grips your hips leaving hand prints in his wake, but he wants you to use him.

He's unashamed, he's humping the air, your leg, the bed, anything! He can't stop himself! He cums so many times before you do, and even then he doesn't want to stop, he'll keep going!

If you tug on his hair to try and pull him away, he only squeals as he covers his pants with his cum, but he won't move.

He just rambles about how long he's wanted this, how long he waited, how good you taste, how filthy you are to let him devour your pretty pussy so openly- he's insane and addicted to you even before you let him have a taste, but now? He always has to visit you.

He's so sad your first encounter got rudely inturrpted, so he has to make up for it, right?

[sugar-omi]

Help I can't stop thinking about an insatiable pussy hungry Cove

Like imagine you're chilling with him one evening and he begs for a little taste, just a little treat before dinner

Next thing you know it's way past dinner time, you're writhing around on the couch while Cove holds your legs open with firm grip on your quivering thighs

You no longer know how many times you've come and your legs and his face are soaking wet

And it's not over yet

THIS…. he’s not an award winning eater for nothing.

NSFW, drabble, fem/afab reader

honestly, it’s on you for missing dinner. you know cove loves to eat you out, the amount of times you’ve had dinner late, been late, or have entirely missed a function or activity because cove refuses to pull his tongue off your pussy is immeasurable.

but you fall for it every time because his tongue feels so good and after all this time, if he hasn’t eaten you out within the last 48 to 72 hours. you’re restless.

he’s gotten you addicted to being eaten out, addicted to the feeling of his tongue moving as deep as it can inside the heat of your sloppy cunt, addicted to hearing the slurping and groans he lets out when you grind on his face,

he completely unfolds you with his tongue, he’s an expert at it now, his hands more busy keeping your thrashing legs from knocking him in the head. his reasoning?

“you taste so good.. i don’t wanna waste it…”

when he said it, you couldn’t help but blush hotly. cove never says something so nasty.. so… so sexy.

you have to admit though, he doesn’t even need to have his fingers join in, his tongue is long and thick and reaches most of the sweet spots that make you tick…

and the way his lips suck on your clit like he’s trying to drink through a straw, lapping his tongue over the bullied pearl in apology.

he knows what he’s doing, and he’s ate you out in nearly every position, pressed different vibrators and clit suction onto your poor clit, stuffed you with bullet vibrators and hooked his lips to your clit until you’re shaking, pushing against his head with your fists tangled in seafoam green locks, then sinking his hot tongue into you, pushing the vibrator deeper and still circling his thumb around your clit, pinching and pulling the poor nub until you’re almost in tears.

oh, and the one time he came inside of you… your body was so weak and tired, hickeys painting your skin from your neck to your collarbones, but your body was still alight with desire and cove knew if he sunk into you again, pressing his fat tip into that sweet spot that has you seeing stars, you wouldn’t wanna stop.

but cove sinking down until his body is between your legs, and immediately lapping his tongue over your leaking hole isn’t something you were ready for..

he groans when the taste of his cum hits his tongue, slipping his tongue into your convulsing walls.

“cove!” you sobbed, hands finding his hair and your knees instinctively try to come together.

he licks up the length of your cunt, finding his way to your clit and sucking, swallowing the load of cum in his mouth and teasing your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue..

sinks back down to your weeping hole, trying to reach as deep into your cunt as he possibly can, it’s almost like he’s trying to scoop out your insides as well, his tongue is moving around so differently compared to when he’s trying to make you feel good…

this is a very alternative idea to “cleaning up” but it feels so good.. your insides are still sensitive from when he was just inside of you, aching and leaking slick and cum all over his tongue.

it’s filthy. and it’s what gets you addicted to letting him go down on you, no matter where you are.

his eager, skilled tongue carving a path through your insides and pulling all the spots that bring you pleasure. and his deep blue eyes looking up at you from between your thighs.. it drives you crazy, and you’re obsessed with it. you need his tongue, badly..

that’s why it’s so easy for him to nudge your legs home, pull your pants down and latch onto your cunt. the second he falls between your legs, you’re trembling, your panties dampening with arousal and your body flushing red hot.

so of course you’re pulled down the couch, your body twisting and arching in pleasure, and your legs trembling and kickingly wildly.

he already ate you out this morning before you left for work, if you didn’t know any better, you’d be surprised that he’s still raring to go for more, and even more surprised that you’re so willing.

yet here you are, your legs thrown over his shoulders and moans falling from your lips like snowflakes, and his hooked his arms around your thighs while he makes out with your cunt, his lips sucking and kissing your sex like he would if he was kissing you, his tongue slipping into your hole, curling his tongue against that spot that makes your legs kick, and a wanton moan rips from your throat.

the sound is obscene and loud, you can’t help but smack a hand over your mouth, trying to cover it up and hold back and other lewd sounds that would risk you a noise complaint.

but cove raises from between your legs, grabbing your wrist and urging you to look at him…

and you do, you look at him from under your lashes and heavy eyelids, feeling like you could moan at the sight of his wet chin and red lips.

“don’t hide your sounds… i wanna hear you when i make you cum.”

your eyes flutter shut, your stomach clenching at the thought. cove is going to be the death of your poor heart..

[jokeringcutio]

Hi, I was wondering, since you made a post about Buggy prompts if you could do a Buggy x Reader, where Reader is a siren and she must choose between devouring a besotted pirate she rescued from drowning or taking her first chance at true love?

The sea was calm, an endless expanse of shimmering blue under the midday sun. You hovered just below the surface, your tail flicking gently to keep you in place. It was then you saw him, thrashing in the water, his clownish makeup smeared but still unmistakable. The man was a pirate—Buggy the Clown. You had heard of him, known his exploits through the whispers of the ocean. He was helpless, sinking fast.

Curiosity piqued, you swam closer and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him to the surface. His breath was shallow, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, his fear was palpable, but then it softened, replaced by something else. Gratitude, perhaps. Or fascination.

You dragged him to a nearby island, a small uninhabited spit of land. As you lay him on the sand, you studied his face, the sharp lines softened by the water, the redness of his nose even more pronounced against his pale skin. Buggy coughed, spluttered, and finally, his eyes opened fully, focusing on you.

"Am I dead?" he croaked.

You shook your head, smiling gently. "Not yet."

He struggled to sit up, his eyes never leaving yours. "Who...what are you?"

"A siren," you replied, the truth tasting sweet and dangerous on your tongue.

Buggy's eyes widened, but he didn't recoil. Instead, he laughed—a raspy, weak sound. "Of course. Only I would be saved by something as mythical as you."

You decided not to answer with words, only flashing him a smile. Your stomach grumbled, yet you didn't bite him. There was something odd about him: his looks distracted you. And then there was his nose. You'd never seen anyone with such a nose before, and since the water hadn't washed it off, you figured it might be caused by some kind of infection. Was it a disease? Was it dangerous? Would it taste good?

A day passed and you remained near the shore. You watched over Buggy and tended to him. His humor returned, his bravado a shield against the vulnerability of his situation. And you found yourself unexpectedly drawn to it, to him. He laughed. He laughed loudly, and often, and about things that weren't funny at all. Yet, his laughter was infectious, and you found yourself more and more delighted to be in his presence. He was different from the sailors you usually encountered. He spoke to you, told you stories of his adventures, of treasure and danger. In return, you told him of the ocean, of the wonders he would never see because eaters of devil fruits would instantly drown. And together you waited for his crew to catch up with him. He believed they would, and so you humored him - although the thought of watching him sail away brought your spirits down.

But always, there was the hunger. The deep, gnawing need that was part of your nature. To lure men to their doom, to devour them. It was what you were, what you had always been. And yet, for the first time, you hesitated.

One night, under a sky full of stars, Buggy looked at you, really looked at you. "Why did you save me?"

You didn't have an answer, not one you could voice. Instead, you moved closer, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I don't know," you whispered. "Maybe I was curious. Maybe... I saw something in you."

You saw how his Adam's apple bobbed, how he swallowed as his hypnotic blue-green eyes focused on your lips, ready to lean in and capture them.

"Maybe I was scared the meat was off because of your nose," you honestly replied, a hint of teasing in your voice. "Oi! Don't diss the nose," his voice was sharper but his lips were quirked into a smirk. You weren't aware how exceptional it was that he didn't just strike you down for saying this. You didn't know that anyone who even said a word resembling his sensitive body part would be stabbed or shot without a second thought.

He reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "You could have let me drown."

You nodded, your heart aching. "I could have."

The choice was there, unspoken but heavy between you. To give in to your nature, to devour him and sate the hunger that gnawed at you, or to embrace this strange, terrifying feeling that had taken root in your heart.

Buggy leaned in, his lips a breath away from yours. "Then why don't you?"

You closed your eyes, the struggle tearing you apart. When you spoke, your voice was barely a whisper. "I think I might just like a taste."

The words hung in the air, a fragile truth. Buggy's hand cupped your face, his touch gentle. "Then taste me."

You kissed him, a kiss that tasted of salt and tears, of hope and fear. And in that moment, you made your choice. To fight against your nature, to take a chance on love, on something more than the endless hunger.

As dawn broke over the horizon, you held Buggy close, the promise of a new beginning shimmering in the light of the rising sun.

AN: I didn't have the inspiration I needed, but here's a little drabble. I was wondering if you meant the modern mermaid sirens, or the mythological ones from around 3rd century bc? Because I really love the idea to have a half-bird female reader pick Buggy out of the sea. In fact... I might just write that one day as well >D Also... I can do smut. I promise I can, so if anyone is interested in that, mention it in the prompt :3

[moutainrusing]

whump

706 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

Oh shit. Sirius winced as the Death Eaters grabbed his wrists, pinning them to his back. His wand was long forgotten. Although he could’ve beaten them if he wasn’t so outnumbered. In fact, he could have taken on ten, except eleven had to show up, signalling his doom. Oh well. He was betting he could still escape.

Somehow.

He was Sirius Black, after all. He’d escaped his parents’ prison.

There was hope. Remus’s mum was called Hope. Lovely woman. Shame how her son had turned out.

The Death Eaters apparated him very inconsiderately to some clearing in the woods, bordered by shambolic huts and toppled barrels. His stomach lurched, and he thought he was about to take a topple similar to the barrels, except then he was grabbed and twisted until he was shackled to a tree.

Death Eaters had to take things so seriously, didn’t they?

“Greyback,” one of them called. “Yours. Sirius Black.” Then they all vanished.

A man, who looked more like a prowling animal with an overgrown mane and knives for teeth, emerged from a hut, eyes raking over Sirius in a cannibalistic manner. Greyback. See, Remus sucked, but Greyback took things to the next level.

Greyback hurt Remus, so he deserved the weight of the Earth to crush his body and shatter his bones into small, sharp shards, which Sirius would then use to drive into his flesh and make him suffer for all eternity.

Sirius hated Remus, but that wouldn’t stop him from raging hell upon people who hurt the person he hated. The only person he’d ever hate. Only Remus could make Sirius feel those all-consuming, violently enlightening, tumultuously numbing, shatteringly soul-crushing, knife-to-the-throat and heart-in-your-throat type of feelings. Only Moony.

“Black,” Greyback growled. “One of mine asked for you if you were captured. Wanted to torture you for themselves.” He called, “Lupin!”

When Remus emerged, Sirius wasn’t surprised. Sirius already knew he was the spy anyway. Even though Grayback had made his life shit, Remus still went back to him. Why? Did Sirius not make Remus’s life any better? Remus preferred Greyback over Sirius?

Remus looked at him, expressionless. Sirius did not return the look. He was seething. His rage was so potent, he thought his shackles would crack from it.

Greyback smirked, watching as Remus raised a hand, but before Remus could do anything, a voice permeated Sirius’s thoughts.

Fake Cruciatus.

Sirius stared at him. Remus subtly raised an eyebrow, before performing his non-verbal, wandless torture. Nothing. Fake Cruciatus! The voice yelled, and Remus slammed his hand down through the air.

So Sirius writhed against his shackles, screaming in agony as he recalled how the curse felt, even though he wasn’t actually under any spell. He cried until his vocal cords were stretched raw and snapping, and he thrashed until he was pretty sure he’d damaged something vital in his brain.

Greyback was smirking. “Impressive, Lupin.” Remus smiled, glancing at Sirius for a second. Sirius wanted to laugh in Greyback’s face.

But then Greyback was cracking his knuckles. “Time for physical. We’ll stop when you give us information.” And then he was punching Sirius.

Survive. Survive, survive, survive! Remus was staring at him intensely, his voice begging Sirius’s brain to survive!

Chill out, Sirius thought, as his jaw throbbed and nose went numb, blood falling into his mouth.

Remus glared at him.

What? I’m a victim here!

“Enough for today,” Remus spoke, voice rough and cutting. “He’s mine, remember?”

Greyback reluctantly pulled away. “Fine. Dark Lord did agree that you’d be able to get the most outta him.”

Remus nodded tersely, and Greyback backed away, into his hut.

“Motherfucker,” Remus hissed, discreetly taking his wand out of his animal-skin cloak and pressing it against Sirius’s bruises to heal them.

“Me or him?” Sirius grinned.

“Both. Take this,” Remus shoved his wand into Sirius’s hand. Sirius raised a brow.

“Get out of here,” Remus insisted.

“Yeah, but one question. How the fuck did you get in my brain?”

Remus smirked. Werewolves are creatures of Dark magic, love. We can do a lot more than wizards expect. Now go, Remus backed away.

“Greyback! He’s still got a wand!”

And as Greyback rushed out of his hut, Sirius disapparated. Thanks. Love.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐕

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Would some like this to be on my Ao3? For better reading perhaps?

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You take the Mini Marines to the Apothecary, and find yourself getting uncomfortable with Dr. Ryker.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // None.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter IV} • {Chapter VI}

To get Saveth and Sarvak to go to the apothecary was a hassle. More so Saveth as that little Night Lord stealth skills definitely has… well, the skill of a Night Lord, evasion skills too. Always running away when you blink, just as you find him. His little armored claws and rumbles skittering across the shelves and floorboards from wherever you find him: behind cereal boxes, mugs, antiques and even behind furniture.

Yes, you tried to persuade him as well with promises that he could… hunt every spider and rodent that he can find and bring it to you to show how proud he was of it, and that almost made him come out before he paused, thought about it more, and then dashed back into his hiding place, making you groan out in frustration. At this point, you just think he’s being a tease. You have been trying to catch him for… about three hours, your determination unwavering because you didn’t really have anything else to do besides cancel your work day off and make an appointment for the Apothecary. So you were sure as hell that you were going to take this little rascal and take him to the Apothecary like you planned. You're not going to waste work time for this.

Though, when you do finally catch the Night Lord it is only because you ask Sarvak to catch him with a promise to him as well that he can bully Saveth on the way there. Not harm him as the Apothecary would no doubt be mad, but just tease the hell out of him… and some cuddles too. Can’t forget the rewarding cuddles. (Which at that promise had Atheloca and Scarab trying to catch him as well.)

Now, you have a Saveth that cries out occasionally for cuddles and out of misery that he had to go to the Apothecary. His claws getting stuck in the net of the Nature Bound toy critter cage that you’ve managed to find around your apartment… You think you remember putting butterflies in there one time, but now you’re catching a rambunctious Night Lord in it.

“Calm down, Saveth.” You sigh down at the Night Lord that claws at the net, wailing to be let out. Your eyes focusing on the road as you drive. His skull-like helmet sometimes hitting against the net in defeat with a low whine. Which, in return, gets a tease from Sarvak as promised. Which then the World Eater gains a hiss in response. “I’m only taking you guys to the Apothecary because of that… weird, growth thing that happened with Scarab.”

The Night Lord doesn’t seemed to be amused by your words and wails out again. Trying to make you feel bad so you can let him out. Your hands tightening on the steering wheel of your car in great effort to ignore such calls before you say and try to persuade him once more. “Don’t you want to get big again, and at a possibly faster pace? Certainly, you would like to.”

The Night Lord pauses his actions, thinking, weighing his options. The car going silent besides the hum of its engine and the sound of other cars passing by as you and the other little marines wait for his response. Wondering what his logic would be, and of course. He gives an almost grieving whine that Sarvak teases outside of the net, and that triggers Saveth in a way that he just starts thrashing at the net, growling, desperate to get his claws on the World Eater.

You could only sigh and shake your head at his actions and attempts Saveth does towards Sarvak that looks all too pleased with himself when you glance down at them before refocusing on the road. You’re honestly even a little surprised that a bug toy like that was keeping the little Night Lord caged in there so well. Admittedly, it was slowly falling apart, but it would keep him in there long enough until you arrive at the Apothecary.

“Hello there Mrs!” A young lady greets you with a bright smile on her face, always greeting you warmly and never faulting. The smell of sterilization hitting your nose while her hazel eyes cast a glance down at Saveth in the sealed, toy bug catcher before her expression becomes more amused. No doubt wondering what caused him to be in such confinement.

“I couldn't get him to come.” You simply say, putting the catcher on top of the counter with a tired sigh. Observing how Saveth seems to prickle up when the young lady coos sweetly down at him. Her fingers gently wiggling at the ruined net, but being logical enough not to get too close. The many metal trinkets on her wrists clunking together.

You think she’s claimed by a Salamander with all these… forge-like trinkets all over her, and how innocent she’s been like over the past times you brought the miniature marines in. It just kinda screamed ‘Salamander’ like… it was just a perfect fit too. Innocent seeming woman with a Salamander? Ultimate fluff.

“Yeah? I can see that.” The young lady laughed lightly, leaning back to stop cooing over a steaming Saveth. Amused by how something that used to be so big and known to be scary is now just so small and cute. “It is known that Night Lords like to ‘play’ a little bit before coming here. I assume you are here for Dr. Ryker?”

You nod at her question. In some way, not appreciating the name of the doctor. His name just sending a weird feeling through your body, something akin to unease. You’ve seen how he looks at you, how he seems to look bored, but really? You think there is something up with the man. The vibes do not lie, neither does your guts. You don’t think he’s earned the title of the ‘doctor’ for feeling that weird.

“Alright…” The woman pauses and leans down to click at her computer, looking for the appointment on there that you had set up last night. Her eyes looking through the files before nodding and looking back at you with another smile. “You can go right ahead.”

“Thank you.” You nod at her again, taking the little bug catcher toy with you that was full of a prissy Night Lord in it as you make your way to the back. The woman letting you in with a button behind her desk. Your body automatically knowing where you’re supposed to be going, having done this a process a couple times before because sometimes, they get a little heavy on their attacks to one another. (More accurately Saveth and Sarvak.)

Settling yourself down in a chair near the counter in the room. You put the bug catcher on the counter and carefully undo the plastic things that keep the thing closed, only to have Saveth burst out of it and immediately attack your hands. Growling and snarling at you while you don’t hesitate to attack back, pinning him to the counter and shaking him with your hand. A tiny yowl escaping him as he kicks up at you, now trying to escape your hands. A little laugh escaping you. You’re thankful however, that he knows his strength… somewhat as you know full well that he could break your fingers. At most, he just makes you bleed like a cat would if they caught your hand.

You continue to gently shake him until the Doctor comes in, only then do you stop and let the little guy have some breathing room. Your hands simply resting on the counter as you look over to the Doctor, getting the heebie-jeebies from him. Watching as he settles himself down into a rolling chair with a sigh. Yet, he brought another person with him, a young, male nurse it looks like.

“The marines, ma’am?” The young nurse asks, putting his hand out at you for the marines. Your eyes quickly look him up and down, assessing him. Not trusting him as they never have been so… blunt before, but if you want them to be regular size…

You swipe up Saveth from the counter, not even looking to grasp him in your hands and carefully place the Night Lord into his hands before doing the same with the other three that climbed on your shoulders for comfort. Their forms squeaking out in questioning when you pick them up and place them into the nurses hands. This wasn’t the usual visit?! What was going on?

“Don’t be alarmed.” Dr. Ryker simply hums, looking at you while you watch the little marines being taken away. Their little confused whirrs and squeaks having you set on edge as you shift in your seat. Hearing them quiet as the door shuts. Now it was just you and the Doctor. “They are simply going through some tests. You did say one of them… grew right?”

You nod at his question, your nerves bundling up inside of you as you play with your hands. Anxious now that you were in a room alone with this man that takes in every detail of you with his sharp eyes. His long legs crossed with a clipboard in his lab, but he’s disinterested in it. His unwavering gaze was set upon you. This… this was certainly strange.

“You’re more… nervous than usual.” Dr. Rykers states, leaning back in his chair, daring to look relaxed while you weren’t. There was something wrong with this man, like he was hiding something classified from you. “Have you gotten any sleepy lately?”

You pause your uneasy thoughts about him for a second at that question, wondering if you should lie or not, but what benefit would it do to you? It’s just a simple, harmless question. Nothing wrong about that.

“Somewhat.” You respond, looking everywhere else besides the Doctor. Neither confirming nor denying what he had asked of you. You’re not sure of him.

“That isn’t a stable answer, darling.” The Doctor slips, or what you hope you think he slips. Your body tensing up at the pet name he had clearly given you. Your fingers just itching to go for the door and book it, but you keep yourself in place. Perhaps, you're just overrating? You have only met this Doctor like… twice.

“Uh, 5 hours at most.” You spill, tensing more up at what you had just said as you realized you could have just went for a simple yes or no, but you went for a more detailed answer. Probably hoping for him to get off your back quicker. To get out of his calm, predatory gaze quicker.

Dr. Ryker clicks his tongue at that, folding his arms while you could feel the disappointment running off of him. His head straining up a little before looking back down at you, his bright blue eyes still on you, following you wherever you may go.

“You know you should get at least 7 to 9 hours of sleep.” He tells you after a second of staring you down. Probably feeling superior or something with how straight he’s putting himself out to be. His body never faulting to slump over.

“I know.” You answer him quickly, maybe too quickly with how the Doctor slightly tilts his head to the right. His gaze wandering over your figure. Trying to read you, scan you.

“You… having troubles at home?” He asks another question, your brows rising up in confusion then. Finally looking at him for a second before glancing away. “Any… bad relationships? Bad roommates?”

Why did that question seem so specific when it shouldn’t be? When it was just so simple? Any doctor would have asked that. It was their job however, why was he talking about you when he was supposed to be talking about the Marines? This wasn’t your chosen doctor. This was practically a stranger. A very weird one too.

“No.” You keep your answer short and bold to end the conversation about your health. Your eyes flickering to him on and off, questioning him and his status. How would people like this man if he had brought this vibe with him all the time? Unless, it was just with you?

The Doctor simply hums, never moving from his place while he eyes you down. Not even a twitch from him. Acting as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. That he was just simply sitting there before he speaks up again. “How about work? Is it treating you well?”

What the fuck we’re these questions for? They certainly are not for you as he isn’t your doctor nor is he joting anything down. He was simply just enjoying how you squirm underneath him, like you were someone below him, but at the same time you felt like you weren’t. It was just all so… weird.

“I’m not here to talk about me.” You say with a low tone, finally standing your ground just a bit. Your eyes staring right back into his, feeling like he pushed too much and this is what he was getting from you. You can see a brief flash of surprise in them before they turn amused. His body finally shifting as he unfolds his legs, but not his arms.

“Right, your marines.” Dr. Ryker sighs, sounding nearly disgusted by the fact you're bringing them up again. You wouldn’t have caught such a tone if you were being remarkably friendly with this man. If you weren’t so irked by this man. “There is nothing much to talk about them. We have everything we need to make sure we know everything on them.”

Well, that’s not reassuring at all. Why would he ask you questions then? Simply out of boredom? No, that can’t be right. His vibe, his aura says differently…

“Are you bonded?” You ask him out of the blue, watching that flicker of surprise go through him again before he hides it again. His head tilting more to his right than the first time he did. His folded arms shifting on his chest.

“No, why do you ask?” Dr. Ryker tries to question you again, but you just simply nod in response. Now knowing this guy was just a…a creep. It would have made a bit more sense if he was bonded, like to a Thousand Son or another Chaos Marine as their attitudes might affect their bonds as well or it could be simply he was hanging around his family’s Astartes too much and just gained his cold exterior from them too?

The Doctor tries to speak up again before the door opens up again with the previous nurse coming back in with the Marines back in his hands. The sight of them making you sigh out your tension and relax. Their little forms immediately chirping for you while they try and run off the nurses hands to get to you. The nurse lightly laughing at their antics, trying to keep them still before they evade him and jump onto you, latching onto your clothing and quickly climbing up to settle onto their assigned spots on your shoulders and collarbone.

“There, all tests are done.” The nurse simply says before exiting the room with a happy nod. The room going almost quiet if it weren’t for the little guys that cuddled up to you. Purring and rubbing all over you like you have been gone for too long, easing your nerves.

“…Then I suppose this concludes this appointment then?” Dr. Ryker says blandly, standing up from his chair with his clipboard in hand. Adjusting himself as he looks down at you, looks down at the marines with a flash of something you can’t process just yet. Jealousy, perhaps?

You nod immediately, wanting out of this room since the start, like Saveth had. Your body already moving for the door as you brush past the doctor, and you could have sworn, sensed that he backed up in surprise, but breathed in too, smelled you. Yeah, you are going to try and restrict your time here as much as you possibly can until they assign a new doctor to the case.

Especially, since the doctor takes that damaged bug catcher into his hands rather than just throwing it away like you should have remembered yourself to do.

[coldemergency]

Life #6

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Harry yelled out from his confined spot amidst the graveyard, sounding much like a chiding parent getting ready to punish a misbehaving child.

Voldemort’s pale serpentine figure turned sharply towards the trapped boy. Red eyes locked on Harry. The rest of the graveyard fell away as the tall wizard moved at an inhuman speed to the Gryffindor who stood battered, trapped, outnumbered, yet so very unafraid. Unbothered. Even as Lord Voldemort closed in, face mere inches away from Harry’s, the boy remained stoic, his expression twisted into one of defiance. 

“How dare you-” The man started, snarling. Harry mimicked his expression, leaning as far as he could forward while still pinned to the statue. If Voldemort had any more of his nose they would have been touching.

“No,” Harry hissed back, green eyes an angry pool. “How dare you,” He spat, face morphing into open disgust. “Look at yourself, you’re ruined. Destroyed, and for what?”

“You know nothing-” Voldemort hissed loudly, he raised his hand clearly intending to strike the boy. Harry didn’t so much as flinch.

“Diary-” He began, his face contorting into a nasty grin. One that very much did not suit his face.

“Enough-”

“Ring, Locket, Cup-” A flash of fear passed through Voldemort’s eyes and the man lunged. He painfully grabbed ahold of Harry’s curls, tilting his head back as he clasped a clawed hand over his mouth. His nails dug into the young flesh causing pinpricks of blood to form. Harry thrashed against the hold, eyes never once leaving the other’s. Somehow, even without his voice, Voldemort could still hear the hiss of his voice.

Diadem. Horcrux. Horcrux. Horcrux.

“Stop,” The Dark Lord ordered, his grip tightening. Pools began forming at the corner of the young wizard's eyes. Wet ire haunted him. 

Voldemort removed his talons from his hair, instead winding his hand around Harry’s neck before a loud crack displaced both of them from the graveyard, away from prying Death Eater's eyes.

When they landed, Voldemort shoved Harry hard with the grip he had on his face and neck, causing him to lose balance as he stumbled back, half blind and disoriented from the apparition. The Gryffindor landed harshly on his backside, a pained yelp escaping his newly freed mouth.

“How is it that you know so much?” His voice was quiet, firm, and dangerous. The Dark Lord stalked toward him, standing over his form. Harry laughed mirthlessly.

“I know more than you ever will. I know everything, Tom. Everything,”

“Who are you-” Lord Voldemort growled, leaning down.

“I’m The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry started, smirking up at the figure. His eyes were a fire of green. “The-Boy-Who-Won't-Die. The one who can, has, and will kill you," He all but promised, sitting up further to close the distance between them as he grabbed hold of the man's robe, twisting his fingers into the fabric.

"I’m Harry Potter,” He hissed. "The Master of Death,"

[hey-august]

I'm wrung and wringing out | (Buggy x Reader)

This is a request from @lostfirefly 🩷 A fic about how Buggy would cheer you up when you're feeling down. This is more sweet and intimate than spicy. I hope you like!

Word count: ~2.2k Warnings: NSFWish - no smut but mentions of nudity, MDNI, buggy x reader, established relationship, reader has breasts but no mention of genitals, no use of pronouns or y/n, 'babe' as term of endearment for reader, reader is not feeling quite right, just feeling down and in the dumps.

Title from "Delilah" by Florence + the Machine

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You wanted to do nothing. What does that even mean? Buggy tried to understand but he was failing and it was frustrating. When you said you weren’t feeling well, he brought you tea and medicine that you didn’t need. You weren’t sick, you just felt…off.

So the plans for rehearsals were pumped up and the captain brought you to watch. Acrobats soaring through the air, Richie leaping and roaring, fire eaters, death-defying stunts, however, the excitement of the circus wasn’t the cure. You watched, laughed, and applauded, but your mood dropped once the theatrics finished.

Flowers didn’t help. Donuts didn’t help. Stupid jokes didn’t help. Chocolate didn’t help. They all worked for a moment, but the effects of each miracle cure didn’t last.

Once the ranunculus bouquet was settled in a vase, your mood settled back down. As the sweetness from the glazed sugar dissolved in your mouth, so did your smile. Buggy’s jokes brought out huffs of amusement, but not the belly laughs he was used to. Chocolate was usually a guaranteed mood-booster, but not this time. The corners of your smile would slowly fall down as a weight returned to your chest. A weight that pushed you back into bed until you were burrowed in the green sheets, like a mound of dirt covered in moss. There you’d lay, existing and waiting out the moment.

“I don’t know…I don’t want to do anything. I just want to do this.” The explanation came from the depths of the earth.

Buggy flopped onto the bed, bouncing the lumps of blanket that you might be buried under. Those were the same words you said a few days ago when he first asked what’s wrong. What would help? What do you need? What can he do? You wanted to do nothing. But what should Buggy do? He tried to do nothing too. Then something. Anything that he thought would bring a smile to your face. And even though he succeeded in that, the smiles never stuck.

The pirate laid with you for a moment, wondering if it’s possible to do nothing together. Or is that considered something?

He shifted his position to find a more comfortable spot. Then he shifted back to hang his feet over the edge, remembering that boots don’t belong in bed. Even though they were too tight to kick off, Buggy still tried. He hooked the toe of one boot above the heel of the other and pushed. There was no give and when the hold slipped, his body thrashed with the unexpected movement. He tried again. After he floundered a second time, one of the blanket clumps curled up and pulled the woven cocoon tighter.

Sheepishly, Buggy chopped his ankles and feet into pieces that would slip from the confining shoes with ease. The heavy leather boots collided with the wood floor. The room was even quieter after the resonating thud, silently reprimanding the clown for his actions. Releasing the held breath burning in his lungs, Buggy swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He wasn’t able to do nothing so easily.

“Where you going?” asked a quiet voice.

“Gonna shower,” Buggy grunted as he started disrobing. Clothes were dropped on the floor with little clangs from buttons and buckles, and sighs of fabric relaxing. “I’ll be back soon, though.”

You listened to soft steps of bare feet against the wood floor before peeking out of the blanket bundle. The nude pirate was walking away from you, through streams of golden light and towards the bathroom.

“Me too?”

Buggy spun around to see you sitting up in bed, having emerged from the mass of green sheets. He nodded, slowly at first, then a little faster. “Yeah, if you want.” A tell-tale blush began making its way from his cheeks down to his chest before he turned back.

The shower turned on and so did your body’s need for cleanliness, which was rapidly overriding the desire to do nothing. Days hard at work doing less than the bare minimum left you feeling grimey. The sound of falling water changed as Buggy got into the shower and that was the last thing you needed to be convinced. You clambered out of bed, drawn to the liquid like a lost soul in the desert who finally found an oasis. Clothes were shed along the journey until you reached the destination cloaked only in goosebumps.

The air in the bathroom was heavy and earthy, full of the scent of ginger from the wash Buggy used. You peeked into the shower, second guessing your decision to join him. The hesitation was put to rest by the clean faced clown who was rinsing his long hair. Rivulets of water cascading down his body were colored by the strands of chromatic hair they followed. His eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful. 

The atmosphere was inviting and welcoming, so you stepped into his space. Buggy cracked an eye open at the sound of a wet footstep. After swiping the excess water from the top of his head, the pirate ushered you under the water and sidestepped until he stood on the other side of the shower. You shivered as the warm water coated your bare skin and carried away superficial grit and grime.

Turning slowly under the showerhead, you stated a simple observation. “It feels good.”

Facing the falling water, you tilted your head upwards and let the liquid run its course down your body. Little splashes created a mist that dampened your face, slaking the thirst in your skin. Hands glided on your shoulders, sliding on the layer of soap they carried. You could feel the callouses from a life of piracy on Buggy’s palms as he lathered your.

Buggy pulled you back from the water just enough for the water to avoid washing away all the suds he was building up. A few errant streams carried bubbles down a featherlight trail that tickled down the back of your thighs. Offsetting the airy feel of the suds was the firm touch of Buggy’s hands. Fingertips followed your curves and muscles, easing away dirt and stress. 

Once your back was covered in ginger-scented foam, he pulled you against his body. Despite the layer of soap and water, you two stuck together, held by affection. Buggy pressed a kiss against your neck as his hands moved to the front of your body to continue their work. His hold was slick against your breasts. Your nipples perked up under the rough yet soft touch.

“Buggy, I just wanna shower. I don’t wanna do anything,” you mumbled while wiggling under the attention. Your body slipped against his, but not out of his embrace.

“I know, babe,” he responded, oblivious that you would interpret his touch as anything other than wordless adoration. “You don’t have to do anything.” He spoke with lips still pressed against your neck.

Your body was tended to with diligence and devotion. You did nothing and Buggy did everything. He eased you from position to pose, moving with such intention that it felt like a dance. He brought your arm up before his touch was dragged back down as he directed the water and soap to your side and hips. His hand moved with grace along your chest and up your neck, mimicking a familiar hold. Sensual intensity was replaced with stronger intimacy. As the shower water flowed down, so did the hold.

With the top part of your body thoroughly finished, Buggy turned you to face away from the water. He lowered himself down, his hands moving along your left leg, until he took a knee before you. Pressure on your calf nudged you to put your foot on his raised knee. Before returning to his cleansing duty, the pirate pressed his cheek against your knee and tilted his face in to kiss your thigh. The water splashing down your body coated his lips. 

A light spray coated Buggy’s face so that when he looked up at you, his long lashes were decorated with minute beads of water. A waterfall roared in your body, surging with feelings of being seen and understood. You wiped away heavy droplets threatening to run down his forehead, pushed back a few strands of hair that had crept forwards, and blew him a kiss. The affection was returned with yet another kiss pressed against the soft skin of your inner leg, then replaced with the love and lather carried in his worshiping hands.

The shower felt like an eternity and you weren’t sure where you ended and Buggy began. You had lost your sense of self and you welcomed it. It felt like you were one with nothing. You gave your companion a hazy, dopey grin as he left the shower first. In the solitude, you relived the touches through the water that washed away the remaining suds. It didn’t take long for the remaining heated water in the reservoir to run low and the dropping temperature was your sign to leave the wet world behind.

You dried off with the towel set out and returned to the bedroom. Buggy was nowhere to be seen, but the bed was made with fresh gray sheets and a pile of clothes sat on the corner of your side. You were surprised to see that Buggy knew which drawer you kept your pajamas in until you pulled out the clothing. He put out one of his shirts and a pair of his underwear. Before you could get your own clothes, the door swung open and Buggy flew in with his hands full.

“I set out some clothes for you and I got us snacks and wine,” he said, nodding towards the bed and balancing a plate of something you couldn’t see in one hand, and clutching a wine bottle and two glasses in his other.

“These are your clothes,” you pointed out.

“Yeah…you don’t want ‘em? I thought you’d like to wear them,” he said hesitantly. Heat overtook him with embarrassment and melted your heart.

“No, wait, I do want to!” you cried, scrambling to pull on the clothes as quickly as possible. 

The underwear was barely pulled up when you got stuck tugging down the shirt. With one arm successfully tucked into an arm hole and the other arm stuck through the neck hole, you struggled in the self-created labyrinth. A rogue hand grabbed the neck of the shirt and pulled it away so you could realign yourself.

Once you were wrapped in the pirate's clothes and had regained sight, you saw Buggy’s set up. He sat in the middle of the bed, with a plate of dried meat, peanuts, and apple slices. A glass of white wine waited on each bedside table.

“Can you braid my hair for me?” Buggy asked in a practiced voice while avoiding your gaze. It wasn’t a request he didn’t like, but one that he was shy to ask for. He had never asked this question outright before, preferring to make it sound like your idea by saying you could play with his hair if you wanted.

Afraid he would change his mind, you nodded and quickly climbed into bed behind him. You got comfortable and hooked your feet under his knees, pulling his legs apart slightly. Shifting into the dip in the bed, his hips between your legs, as though this is how you belong together. Once in place, you finger combed his still-damp hair and began sectioning it. Meanwhile, a hand floated over with a bit of apple for you to eat.

The rest of the evening passed like this. Taking full advantage of Buggy’s begrudging request, you plaited his long blue hair more than once before deciding on a style that was both flattering and comfortable. After finishing his hair, you tugged each lobe to make the braid fluffy.

Throughout the haircare session, you were fed bits of food. Wine was offered once, but not again after you nearly drowned trying to keep up with the tilt of the glass. And maintaining the soundtrack was Buggy, who rambled and gossiped about whatever fell from his head into his mouth.

You began feeling drowsy while Buggy chittered about the new baby circus animals, so you flopped forwards to continue listening. His monologue continued as the performer reset the scene by clearing the bed and moving you both into place under the sheets. The last thing you remembered was the feeling of an arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you close.

The next morning took its time to arrive. It moseyed in, easing deeper into the day before you noticed its arrival. The sunshine wasn’t what woke you up, though. It was Buggy’s snoring.

Still wrapped around your body, his face was pressed against the back of your head and the strangled sleep sounds were released next to your ear. While the noise was loud and grating, you found it comforting. For the first time in a few days, you felt ready for the new day. You felt refreshed and eager to do something with your favorite pirate clown. 

You must have fallen back asleep, since Buggy was the next person to lay awake in the bed. You had rolled around in his hold and were facing him. And stuck on your sleepy face was a smile that wouldn’t fade.

[h0t-emogf]

followers.

TAGS. voyeurism, p in v, magical play??, VERY detailed smut, toys, tom riddle (he's his own warning), power play (kinda), 'sir'/'lord' kink, degradation with a hint of praise, overstimming & multiple orgasms reader's name is not mentioned, feminine pronouns & female anatomy used. VERY LONG FIC, 1600ish words!

Tom Riddle was not someone to be trifled with. He saw the way his followers stared at her with underlying intentions, the way their eyes raked over his pet's body, lingering in rather specific places. It made him jealous, possessive over the woman he had claimed as his from their years at Hogwarts. He thought that his followers needed a reminder.

"I have called you all here for a... Purpose," he began, dark brown eyes surveying the crowd of masked people sitting before him in Gaunt Manor. He then looked down at his 'lover' in his lap, draped over him in a lazing position as she smirked at Bellatrix who was silently fuming at the sight. He laughed silently and grabbed her thigh, squeezing and teasing at the soft skin, feeling her shiver in his arms. "That purpose," he added after some time, "is to teach you all an important lesson," the words left his mouth slowly, moving his pet from her lazing position to be presented to the masked crowd, perching her up on him like he was her throne, "my lover," he addressed, causing her to look at him through her lashes, he groaned mentally, god, was she fucking beautiful, "do not think I have not noticed the looks of hunger on your faces," he then accused, causing everyone in the room to go stiff.

A brave follower of his, Lestrange, raised his hand to speak, which The Dark Lord graciously gave him permission, "M... M'Lord, I have not sinned, for I am a married man," he tried to argue, his eyes looking at his wife, newly wedded Bellatrix Black.

However, The Dark Lord only laughed, "you have sinned," he countered, voice holding no room for argument, "you Death Eaters will always be a team... A group... Every act you commit is as said group, not individually, why do you think I brand you all with the same mask and mark?" It was a rhetorical question they all knew not to answer, "fear not, this lesson will not be one of pain nor punishment, but of education," he explained further, a smile of malice stretching across his face. He leaned down to his pet who was still perched obediently, "enjoy yourself my love," he whispered in her ear, biting down slightly, cracking an actual loving smile when she squeaked. He looked up at everyone in the room, speaking louder so they could all hear him, "undress, love," were the only words he uttered, them watching as she got up and slowly started to peel off her dress, leaving her in only her bra and underwear before her bra left too. She was about to take off her heels and underwear that connected to her stockings before Tom stopped her.

He grabbed their hips and placed them down on him, sliding her up and down his cock, him having unzipped his pants as she undressed, "you like that, don't you?" he asked, laughing as he slapped her clothed pussy, "you like having them watch us, don't you?" he asked next, frowning slightly when she didn't respond, "well?" he teased, left hand sliding down from her hips to her heat, index finger pressing on her sensitive nub, rubbing in circles.

"y-yes M'Lord!" she cried out, the first words they heard from her in the meeting, and it certainly wouldn't be her last. He chuckled and scooted the chair back, allowing the Death Eaters a full view of what was happening, she moaned loudly as Tom rubbed in another direction, leaning her head on his shoulder. Her breathing became uneven as he summoned a vibrator with wandless magic, turning it on and pressing it to her clit, grinning, Tom turned it up, looking down as she moaned and thrashed in his arms. Seeing her pussy becoming slick, he unclipped the stockings from her panties and tore them off her, making a cooing sound when he saw the string of wetness connecting her and her underwear.

He pressed the vibrator back onto her, hand slipping towards her heat and letting a single finger slip into her, he watched as she moaned slightly at the entrance of fingers, humming in delight as he pressed further, the cool metal of his rings contrasting satisfyingly from her hotness. "Filthy slut," he rasped, seeing her come to her first orgasm, squirting on the table, "look at the mess you made," he sighed, mocking her with malice. He turned the vibrator up, rubbing it faster against her as he added more two more fingers into her pussy, plunging them in and out at a fast pace. "I'm getting tired of holding this," he muttered, wordlessly suspending her and the vibrator in the air, letting all his followers see the display even more, "look at her, dripping, you should be ashamed of yourself. Filthy fucking whore, in front of all these people. Have you no dignity?" she was about to respond, but he shushed her when he added, "but you like it, don't you?" He was right though, she really did. "Do you think you deserve this cock? My holiness?"

He tsked when she cried out a 'Please Sir!', shaking his head as he levitated her back onto him, finally taking the vibrator off of her and sliding his fingers back into her, "even though you're a dirty whore, you've been behaved, so I guess I'll have to reward you, right?" he slapped her lightly across the face, "use your words, dumb fucking cumdump."

"Y-Yes Sir! Please... Please fuck me!" she cried, small tears slipping down her face as his fingers went even faster, curling inside of her as she reached another high, back arching.

"I'll fuck your little cunt so hard," he promised, removing his fingers. He turned her around so her pussy was facing his followers, glistening under the light from the chandelier above. He raised her above his hard cock and slammed her down, a loud moan leaving her lips as he began to thrust up at a fast pace. She kept moaning, screaming with pleasure as he fucked her, free hand going down to slap her clit. Squirting hard, he lifted her up, wickedly smiling as cum and fluid leaked from her pussy.

But he still didn't stop, pulling her harshly back down on him and made her ride his cock at a fast pace, thrusting upwards if she went too slow. "Watch and fucking learn," he addressed the people in the room, and fucked her even deeper, pushing his fingers into her mouth and gagging her, "you-" he breathed heavily, coming closer to his own high, "could never-" his mouth parted slightly as he slammed into her a final time, emptying his cum in her already filled cunt, "fuck her, or love her like I do. You will never be able to live up to me."

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Savage & Free

~ * ~

With bovine horns dipped in gold,

The  Marble-Eater crushes the columns,

Of establishment and reason,

He dances and sings atop the rubble;

With obsidian claws sharper than the mind,

The Liberator rips and tears into the flesh,

Of the authoritative and self-righteous,

Blood pours down his chin as he laughs;

With arms outspread in whole acceptance,

The Savior welcomes the Outcasted,

The beaten, the broken, the shunned,

He encourages their oddities and quirks;

With a leopard-faced mask and scandalous dress,

The Shameless strides through the streets,

Capturing eyes as if under a spotlight;

An irresistible charm hangs about him;

With an intricately crafted crown of flowers,

The Blooming plants renewal in the air,

Embracing the thaw in his veins,

Flowers sprout from each of his footsteps; 

With a cloak made from shooting stars,

The Nightly thrashes, lashes, and prances,

From dusk til dawn, never sleeping,

The constellations move to spell out his name;

With flames flickering at his feet,

The Fire-born heightens the blaze,

Of passion, of devotion, of frenzy,

The eternal fire within him never dies.

With a black goat’s skin draped gracefully over his shoulder,

The He-goat bleats out a roaring, inhuman scream,

Of madness, of ecstasy, of hunger,

His feet appear more hoof-like than before;

With a key that opens every lock,

The Unshackled breaks the bonds that restrict us,

Dropping the chains at our feet,

“Your freedom is yours.” 

~ * ~

🥂🍇

~ * ~

@khaire-traveler

[waywardcowboykid]

Hello I think Ellie would hold you down and eat it from tbe back. 😵‍💫

She would but not in the way you think.

Ellie is a spontaneous gal when it comes to sex. She thinks it, she does it, and doesn’t bother to voice it either. You never mind the things she springs on you, even if it catches you off guard.

Your pert butt sticks in the air and Ellie drags her tongue through your pussy lips, long and deliberate strokes. Her cheeks hollow as she gives your clit an attentive suck. She pops off and opens her mouth to say something, but then it happens— she has an idea.

Her hands clap against your ass cheeks and she spreads them apart. You giggle and coo, turning your head to look at your babe who flashes you a quick shit eating grin before she dives back in, and licks a stripe right up your asshole.

You kick, hit, and thrash to no avail. Ellie holds you down with ease, and tongues your ass mercilessly. Shaking her head side to side and completely tongue-fucks your hole until her saliva dribbles down to your cunt.

You cant lie it feels good, but it feels even better when she starts to thumb your clit. Blunt finger tip digging into your bud, it sends a shiver up your spine and you come with a hard “Fuck.”

Your babe is an ass eater.

[smallestapplin]

Wuwa spicy headcanons amab edition

Calcharo, Jiyan, and scar going down on their partner. Also minor spoilers in Scar's part.

Mdni! 18+ only! (Please respect my boundaries)

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Calcharo sucks dick like a man on a mission.

His movements are calculated and swift, he will either bring you to completion in seconds over and over and over again with no end in sight, letting you thrash in his tight hold, pull his hair, anything to just anchor yourself.

He has all your most sensitive spots memorized and uses them to bring you down before him. His rough hands gripping your thighs, keeping them from closing around his head or to keep you from moving your hips. He almost sounds like a beast between your legs with how he grunts and groans.

Or, he teases you, letting sit on the edge of climaxing but never letting you fall off the edge. You cry, squirm, and plead all you want but he never falters.

You'll have your fingers twisted up in his long silver locks, your back arching and hips desperately trying to fuck his face, but whether or not you cum is completely up to him.

Of course he's not so mean and domineering, in fact doing down on you is mostly for his pleasure.

It helps him wind down after a long day of working.

Or to have him sit back, his legs spread and patting his lap for you to sit on.

He is your personal seat, and it's where he can protect you the best.

-

-

Or Jiyan

He's so slow and gentle when doing down on you, his face buried between your legs but you hold all the power.

His hands on your thighs to keep them open, but his tongue slowly glides up and down your twitching shaft. Moving one hand to help aid him in pumping what doesn't fit in his mouth, or folding your balls.

His golden eyes always looking up at you with such a loving gaze, making sure you're feeling good.

He only moves faster when you ask him too, your mewls and gasps of his name going right to his cock but he tries to control himself. He tries not to hump the bed, wanting to save his load for when he's inside you, or when you beg to suck his dick.

He's a selfless lover, just wanting to spoil you, it takes him a while to feel comfortable to open up and let you return the favor.

When taking he prefers to be on top, as he feels so vulnerable on his back.

And you get to see the great general Jiyan's muscles twitch and flex as he fucks himself on your dick.

-

-

Scar is feral for you, anything for you, just give him a drop.

The moment you give him an inch he goes several miles.

He's loud and a messy eater, moaning and sobbing on your cock as your pre drips down his chin. His eyes roll back while he grips your hips leaving hand prints in his wake, but he wants you to use him.

He's unashamed, he's humping the air, your leg, the bed, anything! He can't stop himself! He cums so many times before you do, and even then he doesn't want to stop, he'll keep going!

If you tug on his hair to try and pull him away, he only squeals as he creams his pants, but he won't move.

He just rambles about how long he's wanted this, how long he waited, how good you taste, how filthy you are to let him devour your pretty cock so openly- he's insane and addicted to you even before you let him have a taste, but now? He always has to visit you.

He's so sad your first encounter got rudely inturrpted, so he has to make up for it, right?

[breannasfluff]

Camp that night is an…experience. Hyrule’s mood has rapidly gone downhill as they leave the mountain behind. They’ve made it to the forest on the other side and stopped for the evening in the sparse trees. In the morning the flock will take their bearings and hopefully find the monsters they need to defeat.

By the time Wild gets his slate back and pulls out bedding, Hyrule is clucking and hissing as he paces the edge of the emerging nest. He snaps at Four when he gets too close and the bee-eater scuttles for the safety of Wild’s wings.

He folds the smaller bird inside them, snaking arms around his shoulders and hugging him close. Together, they watch through the gap in Wild’s wings as Legend negotiates bedding with Hyrule. What, exactly, the brown thrasher is upset about isn’t clear.

Flockmate, safe-with-you, Wild trills.

Flockmate, nest, yes, Four answers. “Think Hyrule will bite Legend?”

The magpie casts a critical eye over his sub-flock. “Nah, he’s more worried than anything. I wish we weren’t nesting on the ground…” That cave wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was up high.

Four sighs and leans back against his chest. “Think Sky would join us? His wings are so nice and big.”

“That sounds like a dangerous game, little bird.” Wild laughs at the affronted chirp he gets. “You did just ask me if Hyrule will bite Legend. He would bite Sky, and that’s on a good day.”

Four grumbles, feathers fluttering against the magpie’s legs. He doesn’t leave, though.

Finally, Hyrule and Legend come to some sort of agreement on the nest and climb in. Legend’s barely started a welcome trill before Wild and Four are piling into the blankets.

Hyrule starts a low hiss when Four accidentally smacks his face with his primaries. Well. Wild is giving the bee-eater a pass that it’s an accident, but history would not support it.

Finally, the passerines are bedded down in an acceptable order. Hyrule on the outside, Legend between him and Wild, and Four on the far side tucked under Wild’s wing. The Chain knows that Four isn’t a child despite his small size, nor do they treat him like one. Still, the lack of height makes him an excellent cuddle buddy for Wild, who’s already on the shorter side.

Time chirps a check-in and everyone answers, before settling in to sleep. At the back of Wild’s mind, instincts rankle. Nesting on the ground isn’t safe. There could be monsters. There’s no alternative, though, so the champion pushes the worry away and drifts to sleep.

Wild jerks awake to a warning shriek. For a moment there’s just noise and confusion and Four, thrashing as their wings tangle. Then Time’s sharp call of danger kicks them into gear. Still mostly asleep, the champion is running on instinct as he hauls himself out of the nest. Four is up but flapping his wings unsteadily, trying to orient to take off.

Then the roar and snarl of monsters jerks Wild fully awake. Adrenaline surges at danger and he spins, wings flaring. He needs to protect his flock!

Read the rest here

[pokemonpetfinder]

Thrash (Adopted)

Name: Thrash

Species: Toxtricity

Type: Electric/Poison

Terra Type: Electric

Breed: Standard Amped

Sex: Male

Height: 5'00

Weight: 87 lbs

Ability: Punk Rock

Moveset: Screech, Swagger, Scary face, Poison Jab

Thrash is a rambunctious Toxtricity who enjoys being loud and destroying things. He means well and is just a bit clumsy. He'd be a good pokemon to have for battling. He's very social, so he needs to have a other pokemon around for a friend; doesn't matter the species. He can come inside, but he'd do better having a lot of time outside as well. He isn't a picky eater and will wat pretty much anything, and his favorite toys are anything that have strings (like shoe laces or guitars or whatever). If interested in adopting, reblog this with your qualifications and reasons why.

[oogalaboogalabich]

More post headshot Ghoap for ya. farside of fucked up. nsfw.

<---------->

"Heh yer cryin' again Johnny"

Smoke billows from Ghosts lips as he speaks, smirking from just under the scrunched edge of his balaclava.

He tapped the cigarette into the ash tray and leaned more weight onto his elbow. The one currently pressed into the back of soaps neck.

All of Soaps cursing regresses into sounds more resembling that of a caged animal, one throwing itself at the bars of its prison.

Ghost laughs soft and low when a spray of spittle hisses out from between those bared teeth.

He's got the man bent over some random fuckers cot, arse up and face down.

"Fuckin spittin cobra, you are... all fangs and venom, now."

He pulls at his hair and forces soaps head up at an uncomfortable angle.

"Open yer mouth..." he slaps their cheek and watches that lip split, tongue darting out to taste thier own blood.

"Open it. There we go...let me see 'em...show me those new teeth of yours."

He lowered their lip with a finger, rubbing along the gums and smirked at the savage little addition to their maw. He'd have to retrain the lad to keep those off him. But in the meantime...well he didn't mind a little pain.

Ghost had been there when Soap had stormed out of briefing a few days previous.

Man had been fidgeting like a fuckin heroin addict on withdrawal, gnawing on his tongue just to keep himself in check. Something pissed them off on mission.

It was obvious these days if anything was wrong with them, and he'd been in a right state. Soap hadn't said a word unless spoken to directly, hyper-fixating on something he wouldn't be capable of tearing away from until it was satisfied or proper shot-down.

The next morning, Ghost had caught a flash of sharpened, filed teeth all along his lower jaw. 'Fuckin hell, kiddo...what is goin -on- in that head?'

Johnny wasn't a frivolous sort of man anymore, mores the pity. It had been for utility, not aesthetic. hard not to respect the reasoning.

"more effective to bite up and tear away than down." He'd said. "Like squeezing versus pulling a trigger." Bloody feral bastard that he was these days.

It was different, it wasn't his old Johnny. Never would be again. But that was fine....

Better than fine.

"Saw what you did to the stiff on the stairwell. Flipped the bastard over before anyone else saw."

"Am I supposed t' thank ye?"

"Christ Johnny, the mans face was gone. Goes against human fuckin decency what you're doin to these poor sods."

"Wanted him pretty for me."

"Pretty as me?"

"Aye sir."

Ghost's eyes widen a fraction before they narrow again, lips curling upwards while he exhales another waft of grey-blue smoke.

"...Is it me you're killin' out there?"

Soaps fingers clawed into the sheets as he met Simons thrusts and thrashed against him all at once. Like he couldn't -decide- on an answer. Kid couldn't separate anything anymore. Fucking, fighting, eating, killing, laughing, crying. It was all just one giant fuckin rage out now.

It looked exhausting; had him angry on behalf of his boy. Soap deserved to remain as he had been. To keep that part of himself; that sweet little demolitions nutcase with a smile that outshone the fucking sun.

"Out there cuttin' down ghosts and effigies?"

Reduced to a live grenade with a missing pin and ghosts thumb over the spoon. Shitty metaphors aside...

"Or do you just like eatin' on them?

"...its not about saving lives anymore is it? king and country....civvies and mates back home...you don't give a fuck anymore, do you? Nah..." he bends over, flush with soap and places a kiss to the wound at his head. Follows it with a deliberate and slow swipe of his tongue. "Little bastard here stole that from you."

"You're a man-eater now Johnny. Got a taste for it....watching them drop quick and easy? All rot n' piss to monsters like us...

"Flesh from fuckin' bone 'tween our teeth, Tastin' the terror in their sweat...Makin 'em suffer proper for the sport of it. Yeah?

"The bloody Tsavo Lions, us."

"Aye sir..." Soap flashes a manic sort of grin. "The Ghost and the fokken Darkness..."

"You my Darkness, Johnny?"

"You're my Ghost ain't ye?"

"Like the sound o' that. Say it again."

"Fokk off."

"Say it or I'll give this nut to the fuckin floor."

The wall was losing plaster now, and there was an angry shout from next room over. They could shove that noise complaint straight up their-

"Yer my gho- Ghost, Simon."

"Again."

"Ghost...my Ghost!"

"Again!" His command is a chest deep growl, shoving soap deeper into the thin mattress. It pitches them both forward, muffling the near rabid snarling of his name, again and again like a mantra.

He slides his hand under that throat and pulls soaps chin up to choke his voice, leaving just enough passage for a fraction of air.

Ghost watches another wave of tears escape those furious fuckin blues while Soap is wracked with a violent, telltale shudder. He lifts the remains of the cigarette to his lips and takes a long, deep drag; taking his time to catch his breath.

"That's my good boy..."

<----->

If you havent seen The Ghost and The Darkness or read about the Tsavo Maneaters, please do. Gaddamn love those lions.

[hyunjinzhooeee]

fem reader x yeonjun [fluff - part 1]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ choi yeonjun ࣪⟡˚౨ৎ⋆˖ ★ 20 years old [you're a year younger to him] ★ your bestfriend of 10 years ★ bad boy? ★ cold but has a soft spot for you. ★ has strict parents who pressure him ★ you're the one keeping him sane.

you open your locker to keep your books inside when suddenly two strong arms wrap around your waist, as you stumble, holding your locker door for support while you let out a small chuckle, immediately knowing who it is.

"missed me that much eh?" you spoke softly while chuckling, your thumb brushing over his knuckles as he groaned. "mmph... you have no idea..." yeonjun mumbles, cutely burying his face into your shoulder as his grip around your waist tightens. "why did you go on vacation for that long... you know I can't stay sane with these annoying bitches around me..." yeonjun annoyingly mumbles, referring to the screams and squeals of girls looking at him from afar. you chuckle, of course he was clingy for you. "might as well give one of 'em a chance hm?" you tease, getting a playful hit back on your shoulder in response as you snicker, enjoying his reaction. "shut up, potato" he murmurs, letting go of you as you turn to face him, he ruffles your hair. "I missed your presence, god these people are annoying..." you let out a small laugh, covering your mouth as you shook your head with a sigh. "tsk tsk tsk Mr. choi, I never knew you were such a pouty baby." he pouts even more, clearly not liking your teasing but he secretly enjoyed it so much, of course he wouldn't admit that out loud.

"see ya around, potato" he grins, waving as you walk away to your class, admiring your cute figure skipping away, both hands in his pockets.

a few minutes later, there were thrashing, kicking and punching sounds in the hallway, little did she know...

-----------------------------── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──-----------------------------

the same evening, you barge into the infirmary, panic clearly shown in your eyes as they widen, staring at a bandaged, injured yeonjun, coughing and sitting up on the gurney, smiling weakly at you. "hey princess" he said in his husky, weak voice as you run to his side, sitting on a chair next to him. your eyes roam around his injuries, tears welling up in the corner of your naturally pretty lashes. "again? who d-did this to you?" you stutter, as he gently wiped away the one tear that rolled down your chubby, cute cheeks. "shh, I'll be fine. don't cry, you know I fucking hate to see you cry cause of me." he says, surprisingly in such a gentle and soft tone. "besides, you're here, i'm safe with you." he smiled, making your heart melt, as you give his hand a gentle squeeze. "you're insufferable, you know that?" you murmur, running your thumb against his soft cheek, which had a scar on it due to how badly he got beaten up. "sorryyy~" he says in his irresistible, cute tone, the tone that tugged at your heartstrings, as he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. -----------------------------── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──----------------------------- "come on, don't be feisty, please..." you groan, holding out the spoon of soup you'd made just for him. but as usual, he was a whiny, pouty, picky eater. "mhm, nope. you know I hate soup." he shook his head, crossing his arms and closing his eyes as he huffed and pouted. "no hugs for a week. if not, a month." you sternly exclaimed. he immediately furrows his eyebrows and looks at you with his usual pleading puppy eyes, his cheeks puffing up as he pouted, making you resist the urge to just pinch them. "you can't do thaaatt... hmphh..." "what if I can, hm?" you say, chuckling as he immediately opens his mouth, slurping down the delicious soup that you made just for him. his starry eyes immediately light up, a small smile tugging at the corner of his plump, pink lips. "mm.. its not that bad I guess..." he mumbles, opening his mouth again, waiting for you to feed him as you shook your head, letting out a small laugh. "such a baby..."

-----------------------------── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──-----------------------------

"where are you going...?" he tugs at your wrist, his eyes showing vulnerability and hope as he pulls at the cotton cloth of your sleeve shirt. "hey, I'm just going to the washroom, I'll be back in no time, hm?" you said in your soft, reassuring tone as he nods, slowly letting go of your wrist as he rests his back on the soft, fluffy mattress of our dorm room bed. {you come back from the washroom, wearing your nightdress:}

"w-wow..." he mumbles, his eyes immediately dart to your slim figure walking out of the restroom. no doubt that he's absolutely hypnotized simply about how breathtaking you looked in just a simple pair of pajamas. "tired?" you say, slipping onto the bed, right next to him as you covered both of you with the huge blanket, chuckling as he immediately wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his nose against your neck as he lets out a sigh of content. "very..." he mumbles, clinging onto you like you were his lifeline you smile, adoring his cute and vulnerable state right now. "hey, I won't disappear y'know?" you chuckle, stroking his soft, black locks of hair as he smiles into your neck, planting a small, soft peck on it. "I need your comfort... it's been way too long... please..?" he pleads in tiny, his husky and weak voice clearly indicating that he had a long day and needed you, so bad. "just close your eyes, hm? will you do that for me?" you request, but chuckle a little as his grip loosened, you only receiving soft snores and mumbles. He'd drifted off to sleep in your arms, and you absolutely loved holding him flush against your chest. you kissed the top of his forehead, burying your face into his hair, closing your eyes. "sleep well, love." -----------------------------── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──-----------------------------