#. should i tag everyone............good lord.

[dedeinthewild]

evan buckley x reader, roommates to lovers

“Feast your eyes on the newest star of the 118!”

summary : Halloween at the 118 firehouse gets hilariously spooky when Buck's quirky surprise steals the show...

The locker room at the firehouse had always been a safe haven for the crew, a place where they had grown up together and become a family.

How many times had they found themselves sitting on the benches after a tough call, the smell of smoke still clinging to their noses, their eyes burning as they tried to close them for just a moment? It was also where they often joked around, and where _____, the team’s star paramedic, would bring trays of cookies that Buck inevitably “borrowed.”

“Halloween,” she announced, stepping into the locker room, followed by the firefighter who had left the surprise they’d picked out for decorations by the entrance.

“Don’t say anything,” Eddie warned, knowing that a phrase like “let’s hope for a quiet shift” would jinx them and inevitably turn into their worst day.

“I wasn’t going to,” she replied, shrugging as she dropped her bag on the bench next to her roommate’s.

“Cap isn’t exactly fun when it comes to decorations,” Chimney said, sounding a bit disappointed as he sipped his coffee, the shiny name tag on his chest catching the light.

She looked over at Buck, already knowing that in ten minutes, the decorations they had chosen would turn Bobby’s plans on their head. Buck grinned, shrugging off his uniform shirt and stretching his shoulders, looking far less tired than he should have after a night shift.

“We’ll be The Wizard of Oz characters,” Hen chimed in with a smile, talking about her family, where Mara would be Dorothy and Denny the Tin Man.

The woman smiled, loving how proud and happy Hen sounded as she talked about her kids and Karen.

“Jee is Pluto,” Chim added, making Eddie bow his head slightly. Ever since his son had gone to stay with his grandparents in El Paso, he had felt alone, as if he were losing precious moments with him.

“You don’t have kids yet, so I won’t ask,” Hen teased Buck and the woman as they were changing out of their smoky uniforms into the clothes they had grabbed from home.

“You could always ask about our costumes,” the firefighter quipped, leaning against the locker behind him with a smirk.

“Guys, what’s with the coffin?”

Captain Nash had walked in through the glass door, pointing at the coffin the two had left by the entrance alongside a cart. Buck sprinted out, positioning himself behind the coffin to open it dramatically, excited to show the others what he’d found.

“Okay, everyone!” Buck announced, grabbing everyone’s attention as he wheeled the cart into view.

“Feast your eyes on the newest star of the 118!”

Buck opened the wooden sarcophagus to reveal a fascinating mummy, its head tilted to one side, draped in cobwebs.

“Good Lord, Buck, what is that?” Bobby asked, hands on his hips as he stared at the decoration.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Chim said approvingly, while Buck explained that he had picked it up from an old Hollywood prop warehouse near his apartment.

“Do the pow-pow thing,” the paramedic whispered in his ear, referring to the presentation they had rehearsed in the car on the way back to the station.

“I figured we could give him a cowboy hat and a vest, maybe even a six-shooter,” Buck added, his grin stretching ear to ear. “Pow-pow!” He mimicked firing pistols with his hands.

“It looks...” Hen rested her chin on the woman’s shoulder, tilting her head as if analyzing the mummy.

“Awfully real?” the woman whispered, arms crossed and feet slightly apart, dressed in the base layer of her black costume.

“Like he’s been dead for 200 years,” the experienced paramedic chimed in with a laugh, just as Eddie arrived carrying the last of the skeletons for the decorations.

It was the perfect opportunity to outshine the 126 and establish themselves as the best-decorated station, delighting the kids who would do anything for candy. Most importantly, it was a day to set aside their uniforms and enjoy some fun before their shifts began.

“They’re supposed to be for the kids.”

“God, Buck!” the woman exclaimed, clutching her chest in surprise when she turned around to find him standing right behind her.

“I’m a cowboy. I shouldn’t be scary,” Buck teased, stealing a piece of chocolate from her hand.

“Nice mustache,” she joked, running her fingers over the fake mustache, feeling the synthetic material against her fingertips.

He would let her touch him forever if she wanted.

The way she pressed her lips together, assessing the realism of the mustache, and those eyes—soft and sweet despite the bit of makeup she wore to look spooky—captivated him.

“And what are you supposed to be?”

“I literally told you two hours ago, dummy,” the paramedic teased, holding up the mask in her hand.

“A cowboy and a plague doctor. That’s... kinda nice,” Buck remarked, popping the chocolate into his mouth, unaware she hadn’t yet realized he’d stolen the whole thing. As he walked away, her laughter trailed after him.

“Welcome to the spookiest night of your short, little lives!” Bobby’s voice boomed as he welcomed the kids. “I am your guide, Cap Dracula.”

The team suppressed small chuckles at their captain’s enthusiasm as he grinned at the kids, fake fangs on display. Most of the children were entranced, though a few looked bored, which made her smile as she donned her mask and took her designated position.

The walls shimmered with colored lights cutting through fake fog, and amplified footsteps added to the eerie atmosphere. The air made the hanging skeletons sway, completing an impeccable setup that was sure to secure their win.

“Have a terrifyingly good time!”

As ultraviolet lights revealed Hen dressed as a mad scientist, the kids gasped, their white costumes glowing blue. The woman, already chuckling sinisterly, addressed them in her most haunting voice as they approached her station.

“Step closer, little ones... I see sickness in your eyes. Let me check...”

She examined their hesitant gazes, following them into the maze. “Beware, there are whispers of the dead... they’re calling for you!” she murmured into the ears of the older children, who appreciated the scare without being overwhelmed, while the younger ones eagerly pressed forward into the next section.

At the maze’s end, the team’s newest “member” awaited, holding a giant bowl of candy. Beside it, Buck stood tall, hands resting on his cowboy belt, his hat casting a shadow over his bright blue eyes. He tried a Texan drawl as he encouraged the kids, understandably hesitant about the mummy, to take some candy before heading out to trick-or-treat around the neighborhood.

“He’s creepy,” one little girl whispered, clutching her fairy wings.

“He’s not creepy,” Buck insisted, only to receive a pointed look from the paramedic. “Okay, maybe a little... but he’s harmless,” he conceded, kneeling to her level and offering to move the mummy’s hands so the kids could take candy without fear. His soft smile shone even through the large brown mustache tickling his lip.

But when he grabbed one of the mummy’s arms to move it, it came off in his hand, revealing something disturbingly lifelike.

“Are those worms?” a boy in a giant baseball helmet asked.

The paramedic stepped forward, removing her mask and crouching beside Buck to get a closer look. Her face hovered just past his shoulder.

“I think those are tendons,” she murmured, as if even she doubted her words.

“Oh my god, he’s real.”

The first time, it was as if someone else had said it. The second time was to process the realization. The third and fourth were for convincing themselves that what they held was, in fact, a real arm, complete with ligaments and tissue. The fifth time was purely instinct as Buck stood, tossed the arm to her, and screamed while running away.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the paramedic yelled, clutching the arm as if she too wasn’t entirely sure what it was.

By the time the police hauled the mummy away and the team glared at Buck, who had undeniably spiced up their Halloween, she was leaning against the ambulance, arms crossed, holding Buck’s fake mustache.

“Billy Boils, huh?”

“He was a showstopper, at least,” Buck said with a sheepish grin.

She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder before carefully reapplying the mustache under his nose, pressing the adhesive to his fair skin. Once again, her fingers brushed his cheeks, and he silently wished she’d run her hands through his hair and leave them there for as long as possible.

“Wait, have you washed your hands?” he asked suddenly.

“For what?”

“You literally held Billy’s arm,” Buck replied, horrified, stepping back.

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughed, chasing him with her “tainted” hand raised dramatically, just to see his mock-scared reaction.

The following evening, she was in the locker room with Hen, who seemed visibly shaken by what had happened to her son. Hen had come to talk to the captain but found her colleague sneaking snacks away from the giant firefighter with blue eyes.

“You know they say your hair curls when you’re in love,” Hen teased, leaning against the doorframe, noticing the oversized fire department shirt the woman wore—one she recognized as one of Buck’s old ones.

“Whose hair is curly?” the woman asked curiously.

Hen pulled out a photo from Halloween, taken just before the swarm of kids arrived and the chaos of Buck’s mummy erupted. It showed the woman sitting between Buck and Chim, smiling towards Buck as she held her mask. Her hair, resting on her silk cape, fell in soft curls at the ends, as if someone had gently twisted them.

“Maybe it’s the shampoo. I’ve been using Buck’s for a while now.”

“Is he trying to save on that?”

“I got tired of him using mine,” she laughed.

Hen was serious. She had practically watched those two grow together, despite the paramedic only joining two years ago. From the moment she arrived, she brought a unique energy to the station, seamlessly blending in as if she had always been part of it. Slowly, she had also changed Buck. He’d always been hesitant about relationships after so many failed ones and doubts about how he expressed love. But when it came to her, none of that mattered.

She was the one he’d asked to share his huge loft. She’d chosen the couch they often ended up napping on together, and she was the one who made breakfast for both of them every morning. They knew each other better than anyone else did, and despite spending almost every moment together, they never got bored of one another.

“I like your hair lately,” Buck said, seated in his armchair, watching the morning news with a cozy sweatshirt and a temporary leave for his sprained shoulder.

“Is that sarcastic?” she asked, tidying up the kitchen, organizing what had piled up during the past few hectic weeks.

“Why do you always think I’m being sarcastic with compliments?”

“Because you always sound like it,” she teased, approaching him with the little gift he had left for her on the kitchen counter.

But as she walked around to stand in front of him, the sight that greeted her left her stunned.

“Holy cow,” she whispered, wide-eyed, holding one of his dirty socks between her thumb and index finger.

“What?” he asked, reaching for the sock in her small hand, which seemed frozen in place.

“Are those boils?”

The first time was to convince herself. The second was to comprehend the hilarious coincidence between the mummy’s name and the rash erupting on his face. The third, fourth, and fifth were spent teasing him as her fingers brushed over his skin—despite her reluctance and a fair amount of healthy disgust at the blisters.

“You’re disgusted,” Buck said, smiling, ignoring the boils on his face.

“I’m totally not,” she lied, setting the sock down and abandoning the idea of scolding him for leaving it where she baked the cookies he always stole.

“I can see it in your eyes,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Is my hair really that different?” she asked, changing the subject.

“You’re dodging the topic.”

She smiled, locking her gaze with his bright eyes.

“Say it—I’m disgusting.”

“Disgustingly irresistible, yeah.”

Buck, my beloved. This doesn't make sense, not even closely, and I'm not sure that I like it but I dreamt about this kind of fic last night and I had to write it down (it feels so dumb god). There are too few Buck fics! give me some recs pls

[crowsvault]

Some silly minis sticker sheetssss 😁❗

Had sm fun drawing these and I hope yall will enjoy them too 😆

👉 Get them here! 👈

[phonification]

doodle dump because i will not finish these evar!!!!!!!!!!

[the-muffin-master]

"Since the Netherbrain fell, you and Astarion have seen more of Faerûn than you ever thought possible. One night, he tells you that these last six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery."

idk what's up with my obsession with drawing astarion being happy and cared for but I'm sure it's not gonna come up in therapy. AFFECTION BEAM!!!!

[governmentmandatedryujinstan420]

I FORGOT TO THROW OUT AFTER THE EPISODE RELEASED NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[megamindsupremacy]

love the idea that stan, pre-realisation, would just put any “my brother-“ thoughts that popped up into the ‘shermie’ category into his head

my brother… the genius … always won the spelling bee… we were so close… i learnt to fight because i was uh. protecting my…. (much??) older brother? damn was he a wimp or something

stan, calling shermie up post everything: do you happen to remember like. a flying dinosaur from our childhood or is this another ‘wrong brother’ situation

shermie, who was very much not there: what.

aksdjfhsd yeah!! also I imagine there being a ton of angst potential because Stan remembers ("remembers" my ass, he doesn't remember shit) himself and Shermie as being fairly close as kids, because everything involving "my brother" is conflated with Shermie, until the Mystery Incident got him kicked out. But Shermie wasn't super close with either of his brothers because of the age difference, and also because I hc him as not being home very often and getting the hell outta dodge as soon as he was old enough. So poor Stan has an imagined closer brotherly dynamic with Shermie, who isn't maintaining this dynamic into adulthood because to him Stan is his younger brother who dropped off the face of the earth (sad) at age 17, popped up a few times in newspapers to get arrested and/or scam people, and then dropped off the face of the earth again at 27.

[twilightarcade]

AND THEREFORE I NEVER LIE

[ihonestlycanttellyou]

DoL PC: Onyx the Depraved

My main save and menace to society playthrough! >:]

Cut because it got longer than expected. :p

General

Defiant, Vengeful Sadist, Drooling Masochist, Notorious Slut/Whore/Show-off/Scrapper, and Considered a terror; despite all this, still kinda liked in town.

Would be a Notorious Allfather too but the feature's not really there. :p

Beautiful, Lustful, and Asphyxiophilia traits.

Literally thrives on sick depravity, it's his favorite food.

Lives at Bailey's orphanage but never pays him, prefers to just stomp him and his goons once a week.

A bully at school but his looks and attitude make him very popular despite his more... unsavory actions.

Sending Leighton to the pillory is his favorite past time.

Celebrity chef, Bartender, Adult Shop Attendant, Model, and Brothel Star.

Got a parasite once and was never the same. Now a father of many many many slimes.

Was always an incubus but gained the Cow TF at the farm.

Escaped Remy's secret farm after becoming the farmer's prized cattle. At first, he hated his forced hybrid nature but he loves what being made into a bullboy did to his body; he's super buff and produces milk now. Score!

Escaped prison but lowkey misses pushing the other inmates and even the guards around.

His "types": older men, rich women, brats, and horrific otherworldly beings.

Somehow remembers the names of each of his slimes but not his human children.

Relationships

(Love Interests)

He, Robin, and Corrupt Sydney are bestfriends! :]

Knows about Kylar's obsession and bullies him for it, would probably only gain interest after learning about Kylar's "daddy issues". *

Fucks around with Whitney. Onyx likes the three F's: fighting, fucking, and funds; Whitney provides all three.

At first, he started working for Alex purely to spite Remy but started to genuinely like the guy as a friend.

Thinks Avery is a huge brat, wants to collar and fuck him until he stops whining about his weak standing among the other rich bastards in town. He does like getting $2K just for looking good though so he'll keep Avery around.

Has never met the You are being Hunted trio, so no opinion on Eden, Black Wolf, or Great Hawk.

*He'd love the depravity and really play into it.

(People of Interest)

Hates Bailey but would totally hit it at any given chance.

Has an oddly deep respect for Briar despite her literally being diet Bailey, not even he knows why.

Protects Darryl when working as a Bartender in her club but is mostly indifferent to her.

Absolutely fucking terrified of Harper, that dude literally altered his brain chemistry for one and then tried to take him back to the farm after he escaped.

Indifferent towards Laundry and Mickey but appreciates their business.

Oh boy, where to start with Leighton. Well- [CENSORED FOR PUBLIC SAFETY]

Only knows Niki from the studio, likes them by not by much. If he knew they worked on the farm, he'd flip.

Would charge at and trample Remy since he likes bulls so much, it'd be cathartic for Onyx despite him seemingly enjoying being a bullboy.

Credits Sam for his success as a celebrity pastry chef, still mostly indifferent towards her.

First met Wren in prison and thought he was cool, thought he was awesome when he actually went through with sabotaging Remy during Blackjack. All that admiration flew out the window when he had to suck off all of Wren's friends for his clothes back. >:/

Loves Sirris as a teacher and boss, lowkey wants to make another "sex-ed" video with him.

FUCKING HATES MS. RIVER, He is a complete delinquent so she targets him a bit. He thinks it's funny when she passes out from his antics with Whitney though.

Wants Doren biblically, even more so if she's actually a werewolf like the rumors say.

Hates Mr. Winter, bastard left him in that stupid pillory like five times. Intrigued by his interests in medieval punishment though.

Thinks Mason is kinda hot, not his type.

Never met the others.

Lookbook :D

Everyday Look x3, School, Swimming, Formal, Athletic, Sleep, and finally the Brothel fit, babeyyy!

His tattoos: a horned skull on his chest, "Paradise" beneath his pierced bellybutton with an arrow pointing downstairs (okay fine, it's canonically Size Queen but let! me! have! this!), and ofc a cattle brand on his left asscheek.

[megisamazing]

this isn't directed at anyone here on tumblr, but holy MOLY the amount of entitled Taemin fans I am seeing on other websites is insane. like, I'm sorry you couldn't get a vip package, but it's not because his agency is screwing things up, it's because Taemin is extremely popular and a lot of people want to see him.

It's been over a week and there's still people going on about how it's bullshit that they couldn't get tickets--and not in a "i'm disappointed" way, but in an actual "I am very angry about this" kind of way.

Idk what to tell you, but this is how these things go, sometimes. a lot of people wanted those tickets, and there were only so many of them available. you're not entitled to tickets just because you like Taemin, jfc.

[havockingboo]

gah i love monkey wrench so much it’s genuinely astounding to me that before I really got into it, i was struggling with art block and well any inspiration to draw or do anything! Then BOOM episode 2 came out and I’ve never been so active in a fandom in my life HAHA

me @ monkey wrench

I see an amazing indie animation with cool characters with really fun designs, sci-fi space adventure and funny shenanigans with a storyline that’s got me invested and i just floor it

im so excited to see the expansion of all sorts of worlds cause AH ITS SPACE!! ALIENS!! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS!! anything could happen and that what makes me so excited to see more RAAAAAHH!!

[poems-of-a-lover]

i will never understand the "stop casting straight actors as gay characters" argument. people just wanna out gay actors so they can have a better grasp on who to hate.

[canonically47]

(dodgy english translation since i'm reading the book in my native language but) lord of the flies is so similar to island of the slaughtered it's actually insane like i am going crazy over both this book and this AU (and the fic i'm reading based on it). like here's a paragraph from LOTF followed by an extract from death cast (fanfic based on IOTS):

“The rules!” Ralph cried, “You’re breaking the rules!” “Who cares?” “The rules are the only thing we have!” Jack opposed him. “Forget the rules!” - Lord of The Flies by William Golding

“But- but the rules-” “Fuck the rules, Courtney! Fuck the rules!” Heather shouts, raising her arms. “Tell me something, Courtney. Tell me what good the rules have done for us! (...) They’ve done nothing for us, do you hear me? We go off in groups, someone dies. We go off in pairs, someone gets killed. We go alone, someone gets slaughtered. We cannot win here, do you hear me? We have no control over what happens here, over who lives or dies (...). Stop trying to implement rules that are doing nothing!” - Death Cast by nocopops + original AU by eavee-ry

[birlwrites]

lmao now i'm thinking about someone deciding everyone has to be subjected to their post-breakup breakdown by taking over the gramophone in the slytherin common room while regulus is Being Seen and him having to seriously consider whether he can keep it together through [insert sorrowful and/or angry classical pieces here] or if he needs to run (walk smoothly at a normal pace but in his heart he is Sprinting) away Right Now.

FHSLGHSLKGJHSJKGLSHGJLSKGHSJF

okay i'm gonna make up a depressing indie artist along the lines of lucy dacus. her name shall be...... iphigenia teare.

and now i'm gonna make up an angry emo artist (i know that genre didn't exist in the 1970s) named ummmmm. actually it's a band called the maenads.

the reason i am making these up is so there can be an unholy alternation between an iphigenia teare album and a maenads album, both of which are totally out of regulus's musical comfort zone, and they're SO FUCKING ANGSTY. regulus suffers through a lot of thrashy guitar (the maenads are really cutting-edge in terms of noise distortion) and then he gets smacked in the face with an ANGST POWER BALLAD

or, better yet, something along the lines of blink-182's 'i miss you'

regulus flees so fast and so outwardly composedly that everyone in the common room simply thinks he's done with his homework

[mashmouths]

so when do i stop feeling like the world's most useless 17 year old

[caterinaofsiena]

all the love in the world but you amc iwtv are sooooo annoying. stop debating over which of your toxic yaoi characters is Morally Superior Actually and just watch the fucking show

[etfrin]

⤷❝Dimwits and Stupid Dolls | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, dom sub undertones, pussy slapping, degradation, ownership kink, dubcon if you squint (not really coz reader loves it), overstimulation, masterbation (f. receiving), voyeurism if you squint, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), mentions of torture and killing | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: He's tired of stupid people and then he sees you fucking yourself stupid on your fingers instead of waiting for your husband to fuck you as you deserve, of course he has to punish you

⇢☾A/N: this was inspired by that one ask of what happens when Coryo sees reader touching herself and by the fact I want to be absolutely railed by Snow when he's angry

< m. list > < arranged marriage m.list > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

Coriolanus Snow prided himself on his perfection, his wit, the power he had, and the utter self-control he had established with time. But, the lord often gives his hardest battles to his toughest soldiers, and Coryo was no exception to that matter. His toughest battles came in the form of dimwits he had to deal with during work.

He wanted to shoot them all, melt their brains, perhaps even throw them into the games. He was seething by the time he had entered the manor. He hastily goes to his study, wondering if finishing the paperwork would make him feel better. It didn't. Of course, it fucking didn't.

He wanted to go to you, hear your laugh, have your arms around him, feel your lips against his. But a gentleman wouldn't show himself like this. His mind buzzed with hot red, his eyes in a glare he couldn't control.

It didn't even take him a second to change his mind when he saw you through the monitor of one of the cameras he had placed everywhere in the mansion. ‘Fuck it,’ he thinks as he sees you fucking your pussy with your fingers. Three fingers in, your hips bucking up to ride your digits. Your wrist was on your mouth, it was clear you were biting the flesh to stop whatever sound that was coming out, your eyes closed shut as your fingers continued to breach the entrance of your (his) pussy.

So not only he had to deal with dimwits all day, his slut of a wife couldn't even wait for him to fuck her into the mattress, you had to resort to your fingers instead of having patience. Coriolanus felt his pants tighten and his jaw clenched. He may not be able to kill those men, but a whore like you could certainly be punished for playing with what's his.

He went to the master bedroom, everyone averting his presence, knowing that they would be prey if they didn't. When he enters, you don't even realize his presence, too fucked with your fingers abusing your swollen clit. Your mess was all over the sheets. How many times have you cum like this? And yet you weren't satisfied. He's married to a slut indeed.

He walks up to the bed, in quiet steps so you don't become aware of his presence. Quickly enough, he got rid of his pants and boxers, not bothering with his shirt and vest. A gentleman would have taken everything, but you proved wrong to be worthy of that treatment right now.

Soon enough, he made aware of his presence by holding the wrist of the hand you were fucking yourself onto. You open your eyes, surprised by the touch. A whimper slips out of your mouth, the sound muffled as your lips are covered by your opposite hand. Your pussy squeezed your fingers, as you notice Coriolanus. His blue eyes were mad, feral even, his face a bit red but his lips had a smirk which indicated that he was going to enjoy this.

“Dolls should be played with,” he whispered, “but they shouldn't play with themselves, isn't that right, Dove? A good doll should wait for its owner to play.” You hastily remove the hand that was covering your sounds. “Coryo,” you whispered, your words broken with need.

“Wanted you so bad,” you said, “You were busy and… I missed you.” He felt guilt sprout in his mind, indeed with the games coming up, he hadn't spent much time with you. But both of you knew if you demanded it, he would have given his attention to you, even if it was only a minute he could spare.

“That doesn't excuse your action, pet,” he said, his hand pulling at your wrist making your fingers pop out of your slick cunt. “You were playing with what's mine. Fucking mine. Deal with the consequences.” He cups your pussy with his palm like it's the most precious thing, covering his hand in your juices. You closed your eyes, preparing for what was to come, your nerves at its most peak with sensitivity and anticipation. Smack, smack, smack.

You cried out of pain but mostly pleasure, a dizzying pleasure that filled your veins from the slaps Coryo was delivering onto your soaking wet cunt. Each slap was done with precision, the pleasure just high enough to gloss over the pain. The stings of the slaps make tears fall on your face. All the while he watches, he watches the way his hand hits your core, and the sheets get soaked with your essence. He watches as your body heats up more and more, your jaw slacked as you moan and whine, your eyes glazed but filled with love for him anyway.

Who knows how long after was he satisfied? Was it when you ended up sobbing into his chest, begging him to stop, that your pussy can't take it anymore, that it aches and you want to cum, cum, cum? You're so close and it's not enough, each slap hitting your clit perfectly, making your slit clench around nothing and gush more of your juices out. But he was satisfied as you sobbed and pleaded for him, his cock, and his forgiveness of your sins, that he had stopped his punishment for touching what's his. He tilts your head up and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“That's my girl. How many times did you cum before I caught you, dove?” You hesitate to answer but whisper, “Fo-four, Coryo. But it wasn't enough. I need you. I need you, goddamn it. My love, my Coryo.”

A filthy rough kiss was all you received in answer, his fingers sliding inside your gummy walls. “Eight times should it then,” he smirks against your lips. You can't even begin to fathom what would happen later. Not when his fingers curve up just right against your g-spot, making you spasm around his fingers.

The first orgasm by him for the night.

“Fucking take it,” he whispered against your ear, his teeth biting your ear lobe, his hot breath against your sweaty skin. He grunts, “You do it, my doll,” as he fucks into you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders as his balls slapped your ass with every thrust. Skin meeting skin and the sound of it much louder than your moans. You were by your seventh orgasm by now, the bed sheets soaked below his cum and yours.

Every time you begged that you can't, he fucked into you harder and faster. “I can't- not anymore- I swear Coryo-” you whimper. His response is shutting you by biting your lower lip hard enough that you bleed and he sucks it all up. He groans into your mouth as he tastes it on his tongue. Everything else is ignored, and no encouragement is given. This was your punishment.

Fucking take it.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964 @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness