#thrash eaters

[metalchris]

The best albums of 2025 (so far)

Well it’s 2025 now and I’m very behind on my 2024 best albums stuff so I thought I’d get a jump start on my best albums of 2025. This isn’t some lame list of my most anticipated albums of 2025, no this beefy list the best albums that are already released in 2025 as of January 1st. If you’re looking for fresh new tunes to ring in 2025 I got you! Beatrix – Deathsent Ceremony High energy blackened…

[chericos]

BLOOD SUCKING FREAKS!

your faves as vampires— multifandom headcanons

fandom list— vnc (the case study of Vanitas), bsd, jjk, mha, one piece, aot, kny, csm, genshin impact (brings back memories…), haikyuu, soul eater, hxh + more!

cws: nsfw?, blood, biting, possessive/yandere themes, dark themes, bites can be used as a sort of aphrodisiac, overstim themes, mentions of bruising, chasing, “hunting”, mentions of being tied/chained up, some are darker than others due to the characters being more inherently “evil”, unedited, you can tell who my favs are, sorry if some are short... tell me if I missed anything!

MDNI

He’s so sweet and kind with you, always ensuring you’re fully prepared to take him. His big rough hands toying and prodding in such a gentle manner that you can’t help but cry out for more. Tears prick the corner of your eyes at his slow pace, you’re not sure how much longer you could keep going like this. His hands trail up and down leaving goosebumps across your skin. His eyes sharpen as he peers down at the junction of your neck. He tilts his head down, inhaling deeply as he drags his tongue up your collarbone. He hovers over your pulse point, sharp fangs grazing the sensitive spot and you shiver at the feeling.

“May I?”

His voice is thick and laced with lust. you feebly nod your head, letting out a small whimper. He hesitates slightly before biting down. It is weak, and only just pierces the skin enough for it to bleed. But what did you expect your hunk of a vampire is just soft.

Maybe a little too soft.

— Izuku, Tamaki, All might, Nighteye, Nanami, Higuruma, Ino, Rengoku, Gyomei, Kunikida, Fukuzawa, Jouno, Atsushi, Roland, Zack Fair, Armin, Shiro, Kunigami, Reo, Kurapika, Cyno, Aether, Gepard, Hinata, Sugawara, Yamaguchi + your fav

Your skin is already littered with bruises and teeth marks. Small beads of blood trickle down your chest and he carefully laps at them. He's been at it for hours, marking you up, making sure whoever dares to look at you knows you belong to him. But who could blame him

Your flesh is so soft and tender between his teeth he can’t help but want to take a bite. It's like you've put him in a trance. His gorgeous girlfriend, who's so eager and pliable to his touch. You were practically made for him. And the sweet sounds you make when he pushes deeper inside of you, it's not his fault your moans are so hypnotizing.

He doesn't normally get so worked up, but you've been riling him up all day. Teasing him with your touches, whispering dirty words into his ear, it's only natural he would break at some point.

He didn’t mean to get rough, but you just tasted so good he couldn’t resist. You won’t blame him… right?

— Xiao, Ayato, Zhongli, Diluc, Alhaitham, Aizawa, Shoto, Shinso, Bakugo, Gojo, Noritoshi, Vanitas, Uzui, Giyuu, Zoro, Akutagawa, Chuuya, Aki, Rin, Isagi, Shidou, Sae, Tobio, Suna, Oikawa, Reno, Leon, Eren, Jean, Levi, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan + your fav

He's so messy.

Spending hours in between your thighs, kissing the supple skin, and also leaving his claim in their place. he's basically eating you alive, bite marks indented in the flesh, and he hasn't even touched you yet. You're whining for him to stop teasing, pleading for him to give you what you want. And who is he to deny?

Arms hooked under your thighs, keeping you in place from thrashing around. He buries his face into you, his nose nudging up against your clit, and the sensation has you jolting. He gives a tentative lick, eyes shooting up to look at your reaction. Your hands nestle into his hair, tugging at the roots as a moan slips out from your lips. And after that, he's ruthless, eating you out like you're a 5-star meal (you are). He's kissing and licking and sucking, and god, whatever the hell he's doing it's making your mind blank.

You don't have it in you to care about how loud you're being, and he doesn't seem to care either. In fact, they seem to encourage him to rip those pretty pretty sounds from you.

“So sweet f’me baby,”

Slick is practically covering the lower half of his face, but he doesn't seem to care. His eyes are blown wide, giving you a dazed out stare as he continues to lap at your core.

This was going to be a long night.

— Noè, Choso, Connie, Luffy, Tighnari, Kazuha, Itto, Kaeya, Leorio, Ranpo, Techou, Tachihara, Cloud, Bachira, Chigiri, Nagi, Kaiser, Aiku, Kuroo, Tanaka, Miya twins, Hizashi, Mirio, Jin, Hawks, Tamaki, Sero, Denki, Kirishima, Sampo, Jiaoqui + your fav

You're such a brat.

You're lucky he still puts up with you after everything you've pulled. He glares down at you, the eye contact making you uneasy. Your mewling and whimpering did nothing to sway him. Your hands are still tied behind your back as his thighs continue to spread your legs open. His hands as roaming your body, squealing and pinching in places that make you jump, before he leaves them to play with your nipples.

His touch is light and teasing, driving you insane. Your nipples harden under his touch, embarrassing sounds escaping your throat as he continues to toy with them. You shove your face into the pillows next to you to muffle them. One of his hands leaves your chest to grip your chin, tilting your head back to stare directly at him. He wants to see every expression you make.

The tension between your legs becomes too much to ignore and you begin to discreetly hump his thigh, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you. At least you thought you were discreet. You don't far before his hands are off you and he's shoving you away. With teary eyes you stare at him confused, why did he stop you?

You're needy and sensitive and you want him to touch you again. You beg for him to continue, but all he does is let out a low chuckle. He doesn't plan on letting you off the hook so easily. He wants to make sure this stays ingrained in your head so that you'll never make the same mistake again.

Because you're his, and he'll spend every second reminding you of that fact.

— August Ruthven, Sanemi, Iguro, Akaza, Geto, Dazai, Mori, Fukuchi, Shigiraki, Overhaul, Blade, Reiner, (s4) Eren, Feitan, Chrollo + your fav

He doesn't know why you keep trying, why you continue to run away. He doesn't understand whatever false sense of freedom you feel when he lets you out. Did you really think you could outrun him? Oh, how idiotic. If he had it in him he would pity you, so dumb and naive. It seems like you still haven't learned your lesson.

Your wrists and ankles are bound together, chained up to the wall. Tears prick your eyes but you know he won't care. He's leaning over you, peering down at your small form as you keep yanking at the restraints in hopes of being set free. You and he both know it's futile, so why keep fighting?

He grips your arms, sharp claws pinching the skin. Without warning he hastily leans down to sink his teeth into your neck. You scream out and thrash at the pain but he holds you still, makes you take it.

It doesn't take long for the venom to enter your systems, an intoxicating feeling clouding your mind and a strange but familiar heat coursing through your body. Your body tensed, heart-beat picking up as you tried to deny what was happening.

He licked the wound closed before stepping back. his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you squirm as the aphrodisiac set in. You scream at him, curses getting mixed in with small yelps as your body becomes sensitive to your clothes. But he isn't too worried about that. He'll break you one way or another.

And then you'll see that there is no way of escaping him.

— Sukuna, Kenjaku, Muzan, Douma, Fyodor, Dabi + your fav

HAPPY HALLOWEEN FREAKS!

Anyway just another disclaimer: I don't romanticize the actions performed in the last one, idk it just doesn't do anything for me, I also (personally) think it's unhealthy but wtv floats your boat ig!! (I say this like it isn't the longest section) IDK, it was just kinda fun to write, I've been meaning to get into darker themes(I have a Douma fic I've been meaning to write) so I wanted to go all out and see how it felt.

I love writing heacanons, ahhhhhhhh, I probably won't edit these so hopefully they aren't too bad!

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

[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.

[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..

[witless-winion1]

imagine Polites was in the courtyard for the last battle of Troy. Imagine he looks up from bandaging a comrade’s injury, and sees his friend. Helmet off, head lowered, face pinched in what could only be described as anguish. Polites would have called to him, but he knows better than to interrupt Ody during his Big Brain Thinking moments.

but then his friend raises something into view over the wall; a swaddle of white, and it’s squirming, enough that Polites could see it from where he stands, now frozen in confusion and inexplicable dread. Odysseus loved kids and babies, he wouldn’t harm one for any reason. Hell, he’d cried so hard when Penelope gave birth to Telemachus that he’d nearly passed out from dehydration. He’d spared every child in every battle in this ten-year war.

but his friend extends his arm, holding the swaddle precariously by the ends of the blanket, over the thirty foot drop onto the solid stone ground. The innocent baby just wiggles unconcernedly.

Polites opens his mouth, but whatever he was going to say (because he certainly didn’t know himself) gets caught, and then his friend let’s go.

and Polites can’t turn away as the white swaddle falls, a sudden, tiny cry starting from the hidden infant’s throat, that cuts off when it hits the ground, with a sound that Polites never wanted to hear again, and the white turns red.

Out of every horror he’s seen that night, that’s the one he dreams of when he eventually lays his head down to sleep.

He wakes thrashing, falling out of his hammock, and Odysseus’s hand jerks from his shoulder to his side, catching him before he can hit the ground and aggravate whatever minor injuries he got from the last battle.

Polites has always been a very honest person. Since boyhood, since he told his mother was sick because he ate too much sesamous when he was five, confessed to Odysseus and Eurylochus that he didn’t like hunting when he was nine, told his aunt she was too unkind to the less fortunate then them when he was thirteen.

when Odysseus asks him what troubles him, Polites can’t seem to bring himself to admit the truth.

when they sail for home, he forces himself not to avoid his captain. They’ve all done horrible things in the heat of Ares’ domain. but a baby? whispers his conscious.

Shush, he tells it. There’s a logical solution, there has to be.

and yet Odysseus offers none, and he is too cowardly to ask for it, and gods know he cannot make sense of it no matter how he tosses and turns with the rocking ship.

when they reach the island of the Lotus Eaters, Polites smiles at the funky little guys, adoring their blissful grin. He crouches and strokes it, cooing about how soft it is. Odysseus hums, unfazed, and grumpy. Polites can tell he hasn’t slept well the past few weeks. But he reaches down anyway and picks one up under the arms, studying it from every angle while the innocent creature just wiggles unconcernedly in his hands.

Polites can’t help the urge to gently pull the creature from his hands. He smiles to cover whatever tension there is, and places the lotus eater safely in the ground.

he reminds his friend that there’s no need to constantly be suspicious and prone to fighting; why not default to greeting the world with kindness and open arms? Even though trust may get taken advantage of sometimes, it would at least alleviate the risk of unnecessary blood spilled.

and as Odysseus looks away, Polites sees the pain in his eyes, staring at the Lotus eaters as they tumble around with each other. One drops suddenly from a low tree limb, and while Polites manages to stifle his wince, Odysseus is caught just off-guard enough to flinch when it hits the ground with a thump. The lotus eater got up and ambled off without a scratch.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms,” Polites says softly, reaching out to grasp his friend by the elbow. “I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart…”

Polites could see as the words hit home, his friend’s shoulders drooping as he looks up at him. His eyes are nearly akin to what Argos’s looked like when their ships sailed from Ithaca’s harbor.

“…so why not replace it, and light up the world; here’s how to start…” Polites gently squeezes his arm. “Greet the world with open arms.”

“Greet the world with open arms…” Odysseus repeated softly, leaning into him. Polites let him hide his face in his chest, wrapping him in his arms and letting him hide from the weight of his not-so-secret sins.

[shuaboo]

gunwook eating you out and being a menace at it .. im talking purposely making sloppy sounds against your pussy that makes you whine because it sounds so dirty >< sucking on your clit a little harshly and giggling at how you squirm ..! would definitely like to see how deep his tongue can fuck into you and … yeaa…… 😵‍💫😖

AWOOOOGAAAAA OH ANON… YOU ARE SEEN AND YOU ARE HEARD!!!! 😍…. sorry no giggling here but i hope this is fine :3

i imagine gunwook as the type of guy who loves giving oral as much as he loves receiving it. dare i say… subby!gunwook is the bestest messiest pussy eater <3

usually he takes charge in bed, but when it comes to eating you out… he’s such a pussy hungry baby. he loves to see your face contort in pleasure just from his tongue. he’ll take literally any chance to stick his mouth on your pussy.

he’s an absolute mess, getting so pussy drunk and literally making out with your heat. his plump lips on your clit, kissing it. licking down your folds before he finally (messily) fucks your hole with his warm tongue. he’s going as fast as he can, completely overwhelming you with the feeling. both of his hands holding your thighs in place so you don’t thrash and close your legs on him… so he can take in the beauty that is your pussy <3.

he loves the sounds that he coaxes out of you whenever he eats you out. your little whines, whimpers, babbles… they only encourage him to do even more… go a lil faster, rub your clit a lil harder… allat.

he probably overstimulates you because he’s such a messy, pussy-drunk munch <3. making you cum on his tongue twice maybe three times. but it’s okay! he makes up for his meanness by praising you for taking it so so well:

“my pretty girl… y’r so good for me…”

“‘m sorry baby… you jus’ taste s’good.”

“mmh, my angel… always makin’ the cutest sounds for me..”

urghhh hes so hot!!! and when he’s finally done making you cum on his tongue, he pulls away and makes you look at him. there you see him: messy hair, your juices all over his face. (maybe he even has his glasses on and got them messy too<3) after all of it, he pulls you in for a kiss and makes you taste yourself on his tongue.

[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.

-

-

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.

-

-

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?

[whorediaries-09]

Hii! Okay so I was that Barty ask, so thank you for answering!!!

I was thinking it could be for a knife kink? Maybe with dialouge #4, #27 (potentially marking initials?), and #30. I was thinking the reader could be the one to use the knife, but you take this whatever way you think is best! (Only if you want to use this idea ofc!)

oh i'm drooling...

but you belong to me;

pairing- barty crouch jr. x reader warning(s)- 18+ content, blood, darkish themes. a/n- both barty and the reader are fucked up in the head in this fic. they're both death eaters sooo. also first barty fic don't come at me.

ps- i left out one of the dialogues since it didn't fit in the fic. sorry </3

prompt- knife kink + 'do whatever you want to me. i'm yours to use,' + 'mark me. mark me so everyone knows who i belong to,'

the diner. kinkotober masterlist. kinkotober rules.

'you insolent little fucker!' you scream, bashing barty against your cold wall. your knife points at his neck, and he's wise enough, for now at least, to not do anything to agitate you further. he knows better than that, you with a knife was more dangerous than you with a wand.

'what the fuck?' he asks, trying not to notice just how attractive he found you all riled up like this. your voice cold and cruel against his eardrums. it brings him a sense of mirth which he can't describe. it makes his blood rush faster, it makes him feel hotter. he feels it crawl under his skin, gnawing at him.

'you think you can take credit for everything? when i go out and get my ass fucking kicked by everybody else, you think you'll sneak away with all the power?'

barty hissed, poking out his tongue habitually. the dark room, lit by candles, illuminated your features. your breath was hot against his mouth, as you moved closer, intentionally or not, he didn't know.

all he knew was that he felt his crotch tighten and grow painful, bulge forming against his slacks. he couldn't help it, the cold graze of the metal of your knife digging into his skin, an inch from injury roused him further.

you stared at his eyes, which dilated with every passing second. you pretended not to feel the bulge against your crotch. it had been cat and mouse between the both of you for a month or three. if you'd finally get him on his knees, begging for you with a knife at his neck, you weren't complaining.

neither would he.

'you're so pathetic,' you spit, testing the waters. 'i can feel your erection you know,' you said, digging the edge into his skin deeper, somehow still not hurting him. you felt all the walls he'd build trying to constrain himself melt, as he falls deep into your words.

he wants your knife carved into his skin. he wants you to make him bleed, to let the metal of the blade go under his skin. he wants you to carve your name out on his skin. he wants you open up his chest, sink your hands into his barred ribs. he wants you to crack them open, take out his beating heart. feel it beat quicker as you kiss him. as you explore him. as you touch him. as you feel him.

he doesn't say anything. but it's as if you know what he wants to say. you can smell the lust growing, the charged electricity growing between the both of you. in a short moment, you spin him, throwing his body on your bed.

'whatever shall i do to you?' you mock, thrashing out your knife across his clothes. they fall on your sheets like dominos when pushed. you see his bulge hard against his slacks. his eyes are glassy, almost begging, but not giving in yet.

he wants you to force him to give in.

you straddle his hips, knife against his bare chest. you feel his heart rate quicken. his hands grip your waist, and you slap them away.

'don't touch me until i tell you to,' you say, cold metal of the knife slowly passing through the layers of his skin. till droplets of blood seep out, till a wound forms.

'do whatever you want to me. i'm yours to use,' he breathes slowly, toying his tongue over his chapped lower lip. he watches your lip curl.

'i'll ruin you, barty,' you say, lips trailing over chest. it stops at his wound, lips sucking the blood onto your tongue. the metallic taste falters on your taste buds, spreading across the wet muscle before it mixes with your saliva, salvaging down your throat. he hisses at your action. he bucks his hips, clothed erection against your wet core.

'mark me,' he says, as you zip him down, 'mark me so everyone knows who i belong to,'

'oh yeah?' you say, degrading. you line your cock to your slit, pushing himself inside of you. your walls clench as you feel him fill you. you slowly drag the knife across his skin, so he feels the cold blade striking across his skin. you thrash it across the layers of his skin, forming the alphabets of your initials. blood draws out with each stroke.

he winces with which strike against his skin as he bleeds. it hurts, it burns. but the coldness of his blood against the fierce nature of his wounds is a contrast. the thought that your initials will leave a scar on his chest is a comfort.

you place your lips on the wound, the fresh blood that oozes out of his chest. you let its taste stay before you hold his mouth, pulling him closer to your face. your lips interlock with his, your tongue slipping into his mouth. his and yours saliva mixed together with his crimson blood falters as you hold him enchanted with your kiss.

'now i've marked you as mine,' you say, moving your hips slowly. you take his hands into yours, placing them on your waist. 'you hear that? now you're mine, and solely mine,' he thrusts his hips, taking the cue. you put the knife against his neck, so close to his artery. it's almost as if you can see the blood convulsing from the thick nerve.

'and you're going to fuck me,' you breathe, as his thrusting eradicates, unrhythmic and desperate. you catch a moan in your throat as his tip hits your g-spot. 'you-you're going to fuck me till you've ruined yourself for anyone but me,'

'i'm going to,' he groans, your walls clenching around his cock with your core tightening, the pleasure of orgasm on the brink of release. 'ruin myself, just for you, darling,'

it's more of a promise, and one of the few genuine things he'd promised you. you breath harer, not being able to control your moans and groans anymore.

'i'm going to,' your head falls backwards, the pleasure almost escaping, 'f-fuck, i'm going to cum,' you say.

'me too, darling,' he says, his thrusts now sloppy.

'together,' you order. he nods, and you pull him closer by curling your hands behind his sweaty neck, and plant your lips over his, kissing him deeply, swallowing all his moans and gasps as you clench and release around him, and he simultaneously releases inside you. he fucks you through the wave of release before his cock softens inside you. his cum flows down on the sheets, and you wince, sensitive.

'you belong to me,'

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©whorediaries-09, 2024.

[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

[fandomfluffandfuck]

imagining a guy eating ass, in the prone sniper position, between the other guy's legs, and eater humping the bed because the sheer act of giving oral is turning him on sm, and the eatee decides to be helpful and reaches with his legs until his feet catch the eater's dick and starts giving him a footjob.......

w8, this was a generic sex position thing but, sniper position... howling commando era bucky was a sniper, ah, it works as a pun 😝

I am ✨️imagining✨️

I am imagining, in particular, World War II era stucky for this idea just as you said. I couldn't not, though, this screams that particular flavor of Steve and Bucky. If I were taking prompts right now, I would be all fucking over this. I have not stopped thinking about this since you sent it in!

Quick and dirty, though, I'm thinking about Steve so fucking freshly post-serum that it hurts--he's hyperaware of every sensation to an extreme degree.

On a rare quiet day off, they woke up late, catching up on much needed sleep, and Steve only got around to shaving his stubble (that grows it much, much more rapidly now) well past noon. His pale cheeks and sharp jawline are silky, smooth, and fresh.

But he doesn't realize just how the layers of vulnerable sensitivity of his newly crackling nerves and fresh shave work together until he's fucking in it. He's whimpering and gasping as Bucky's stubble catches on his face, leaving him with beard burn already. The red blush comes and goes disappointingly fast, though, because he's quickly distracted, kissing down Bucky's muscled body, finding his way down between his legs, lower and lower until he's buried between the curves of his backside.

Moaning into his skin, Steve is so fucking turned on. How could he not be? He's buried deep, tongue fucking him, the warmth of his feverish body, the masculine taste of him, sweat and soap from their earlier washing up, the way the smooth, sensitive, plush flesh of his asscheeks glide over his shaven jaw, wet with his own sloppy spit, the sounds of it, his loose mouth and Bucky's clenching body, the sounds, how hard Bucky is trying to muffle himself with their ratty, flat pillows...

Jesus Christ.

Steve doesn't have a fucking chance at controlling himself. He ends up humping the shitty mattress, his face so fucking hot it tingles. He's gonna die here. Fuck. He moans with abandon into Bucky, vibrating and gutted. He can't take it. He especially can't take it when Bucky twitches uncontrollably, thrashing--it's good--and heels him accidentally in the balls.

It should hurt.

It should really fucking hurt.

But.

He just cums.

He can't help it.

It's an avalanche of sensation, all of it perverted into pleasure in his rewired brain.

Oh, god.

[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.

[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.

[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.

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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.

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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 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?