#what the fuck cor

[thatdelusionalnerd]

Yes yes its amazing that David Tennant is going to be back as the doctor but y’all do realise that it means he’s going to go as well, right? Are you truly ready for that.

[peccatulumirae]

heathcliff would take all of ishmaels melatonin gummies (for her insomnia) as a 'fuck you' after an argument w her and sleep for three consecutive days

[shower-man]

[anxious4ever]

hey hey look at me look at me

NO

that is not what happened and if you dont speak polish let me tell you as somone who dose

Grzegorz Broun is a xcenothobic antisemetic islamophobic far right extime conservatist ultra nathionalist radial cathic sexist homothobic facist

he doesn’t care about palestine don’t let people tell you that

he hates everyone outside of his specific group chanses are he wants you dead i heard what he says he is an asshole

he was suspended almost imidietly his acions where condemned by everyone in the sejm even his own party put out staements distancing themself from him

[ace-s-fav-dp-posts]

Afab clones reformation AU

Trans!Danny au in which all of the melted clones reform at a later point after Danny manages to get them to Frostbite and see if he can help them.

But because this is Trans!Danny, all of the clones reform with afab bodies, because while Vlad could certainly mold their physical appearance to be masculine;

Without that exterior intent being applied, their cores just kinda looked at what human DNA it had to base a body off of, and spat out afab bodies because they didn't really have the chance to develop their own identities yet (which is what normally takes priority in a ghost's form).

This exterior influence on their cores while forming originally is also partially what lead to them all being so much less stable than Dani (Vlad influencing Dani's shape basically failed completely, which actually helped her stability), along with Tiny, Monster, and Bedsheet looking so mutated.

Along with the poor cloning technique involved in their creation.

While all of the clones reform with afab bodies that are less malformed than their original bodies (Tiny isn't all melty and missing an eye, Bedsheet has flesh though she has a ghost tail instead of legs, and Monster is still extremely tall and jacked and very firmly swimming in the Fenton end of the gene pool even with an afab body), their forms are later altered by their emerging gender identities, so in spite of their new afab bodies not all of them turn out to be girls.

Bedsheet is agender and their form shifts to becoming more androgynous over time, losing the more feminine features that they'd formed with the second time around, such as breasts and wide hips.

Tiny is a transboy just like Danny, so there are jokes all around for a bit about him literally being Danny in miniature.

Monster however is very much cis, in spite of her immense height, impressive musculature, and more tomboy sense of style and presentation. [Think of a cross between what most people think of when thinking of Tall!Jazz/Amazonian!Jazz, and Vi from Arcane. She's just generally very much swimming in the deep end of the Fenton gene pool.]

Prime on the other hand is what can only be described as nonbinary/3rd gender to humans. As their actual gender identity is something previously almost exclusively found among the Yetis of the Far Frozen and a few other ghost settlements that have primary population that's never been human (where Prime chooses to live the majority of the time as the only Clone to inherit Danny's ice) and doesn't really have a direct counter part in human culture.

[beanghostprincess]

What's a fave more low key sanji scene for you? I do really like in Wano when he makes sure to hand the mouse back to the woman before passing out after fighting queen

Awww I love that scene so so much!

And I have a very specific favorite more low-key Sanji scene that I've been having a really hard time finding because I remembered the dialogue in Catalan (I used to watch it dub) and I didn't remember the arc. But! Turns out is right after Arabasta, episode 131. And I know it looks like an average simping Sanji scene but I SWEAR in the Catalan Dub it sounds so sweet. And he's the cutest. And idk why it stayed with me but I think I remember this quote almost every fucking day of my life.

AND THIS IS BULLSHIT BECAUSE IN CATALAN THEY TRANSLATED IT AS:

Nami: The right ridgeline is 42 degrees... Sanji: I'm the one at 42 degrees but it's the fever of love!! Why don't you draw a map of my heart, my dearest?!

If you wanna know how it sounds in Catalan:

Shit I wanna rewatch this now in Catalan I'm sobbing- This dub has so many great moments <33 My beloved

And to me, it sounds way better. Believe me. Please. I am not crazy. Tell me I'm not the only one who finds this extremely cute.

I just personally think it's one of Sanji's more original simping phrases and I swear there are a lot of more important/character-driven Sanji scenes I love but somehow this scene has a special place in my heart. Don't ask me why because I don't know.

[one-winged-dreams]

This middle-aged brunette man is giving me heart palpitations

[hurryupmerlin]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COREY!!

I was thinking "hey, what could I get Cor for his special day?" and someone said "a birthday cake." And I was like "what were you saying? A PWP fic about two traumatised PTSD-stricken clones having sex?" "No, that's absolutely not what I—" "On its way!"

Mal belongs to @riinoaheartilly

—------------------------------

The best thing about life as a deserter might be the afternoon naps. To be able to sleep when you're tired, to not have to torture yourself beyond your breaking point every day in cold mud holes and trenches, where you’re always in danger of not waking up if you allow yourself the weakness of sleep; that's a luxury he would hate to give up again.

No, wait. He needs to correct himself. The very best thing just walked through the door and is now headed for him. Warm autumn light shines through the small window, giving Ami's skin a golden glow. Mal smiles through heavy eyelids, the remnants of sleep still crumbly in the corners of his eyes.

“Good timing,” he says and extends a hand in invitation, “just woke up.”

Ami is wearing nothing but a thigh-length linen tunic that is way too big for him and Mal wonders where he got it, until he sees the telltale misweave near the hem and recognizes it as his own. Either way, it suits him.

The young man's movement pattern is tense though, he takes small tight steps, his face is unusually red.

"What have you been up to now again?" Mal asks with a snort.

Ami wordlessly climbs onto the bed with him and is met by strong arms that wrap him in a loving embrace. The slender body naturally nestles against Mal's flank and Mal dips his head to place a welcoming kiss on Ami's temple.

“Don’t wanna talk?” Mal tries and Ami shakes his head where it rests on Mal’s shoulder.

A beat. Then: “You are not allowed to talk either, okay?” Ami says it so softly, Mal needs a moment to process what he was just instructed to do.

“Okay.”

“You can say ‘stop’ anytime. But nothing else, yes?”

“Yes, Sir,” Mal quips, curious now.

For a moment nothing happens, as if Ami needs time to collect himself. Then a hand comes to rest on Mal’s crotch and the trooper skips a breath. There's not much hesitation after that. It's happening so fast, Mal can hardly adjust his thoughts to the situation. Expertly, Ami works him to excitement with nothing but a firm palm over coarse fabric, and shortly after, Mal is squirming so eagerly that Ami cranes to meet him for open-mouth kisses, giving him a counter-sensation to concentrate on.

"Ami, y—" Mal pants but he is cut off with a noise of disagreement, shushing him. He follows the directive again, closing his mouth ostentatiously and instantly gets rewarded.

A whole new sensation rocks through him as Ami's licked hand slips under his pants. He is warm, but on Mal's searing hot skin the touch seems almost cool around his shaft, gentle fingers curling, releasing, lazily stroking him. 

Hardly anything is left of Ami's initial shyness. He works Mal routinely and willingly in slow strokes down, and sloppy but heartfelt kisses up; and Mal has no idea what he has done to deserve this benefaction but he gladly accepts it.

His body doesn’t even try to hide how much he enjoys it, sedulously growing under Ami's doing. Every stroke pushes him further to full size and when Mal doubts it can get any better, his lover dives down to pull Mal's pants to his knees and closes spit-soaked lips around him. Well, he literally stands corrected, because he quickly learns that up to this point he wasn't yet as hard as he could get. He files it as a pleasant lesson.

By now he's reduced to whimpers, biting back 'yes please's he's not allowed to vocalize, and all he can do is focus on not jerking into Ami's mouth like a proper bastard, despite how much his hips tremble with the need to. Clinging to his composure keeps getting more difficult the longer Ami teases him. He can't remember the last time he was this turned on, or this hard.

He could come like this, wants to come like this, wants to see Ami gulp him down, all soft lips and tongue and red cheeks. The muscles in his thighs tense – and suddenly, Ami releases him from his hot mouth. He nearly complains at the abrupt loss of pleasure, but in the end, all he does is throw his head back on the pillow with a pitiful sigh.

Ami looks up with big eyes full of tentativeness and Mal can’t help but smile at the adorable sight. With a gentle tug on his shoulders he gestures him to come up and Ami follows his request, crawling on top of him to snuggle against his chest.

“That was nice,” Mal rasps, heart still pounding from the excitement. 

Because it really was nice. Completely different from sex with Bruiser, with whom his main concern used to be how to get him to finally shut his fucking face and cum as quickly as possible. This isn’t a hate fuck.

Ami makes a disagreeing noise in response to the words, placing his index finger on Mal’s lips. Mal’s eyebrows shoot up. We’re not done yet, huh? 

He gets his answer in the form of a long kiss that turns from sweet to passionate over the course of minutes. Ami tastes like him at first and that’s something Mal hadn't considered a kink of his, but now that he got a sample, he wants Ami to taste like him all over. 

Somehow, the boy has managed to position himself on Mal’s lap, straddling him as he sits up, and Mal gets overly aware of what position he’s in when a bolt of arousal shoots through him yet again, making him gasp into Ami’s mouth. Ami grinds against him and as it turns out, he’s really wearing nothing but that damn tunic, they’re skin on skin now, cocks brushing against each other, and Mal’s head is spinning so violently, all he can do is place his hands flat on Ami’s thighs in a desperate attempt to ground himself enough as not to just come right there and then and prematurely ruin it all.

Ami shifts his hips, an expression of topmost concentration furrows his brow. He leans slightly forward and upward, bracing himself next to Mal's chest with one hand while reaching for Mal's dick with the other and… the noise Mal makes when Ami alings them is unholy. Ami's cleft is already wet, all slicked up and ready for him, and it trickles slowly into Mal's brain that the answer to 'what have you been up to?' was and is: 'I prepared to have sex with you and went through with it.'

Which is a thing that doesn’t fit Ami at all, Mal wonders. His Ami is shy smiles and innocent giggles and— so fucking sexy how he completely loses control over his face as he eases himself onto Mal's length, with his eyes closed shut tightly and mouth slightly open, making broken little noises of half-pleasure, half-pain.

There's not much Mal can do to make it easier for him. He tries to hold his legs still and helplessly lets his hands roam over Ami wherever he can reach. The need to see and feel more of this amazing human being drowns him. He goes for the hem of the tunic, lifting up the fabric – and Ami's eyes snap open. 

Slender hands curl around both his wrists and Mal lets go of the fabric, which cues Ami to intertwine their fingers and, with a stifling sob, settle deep onto Mal's lap.

A shuddering breath leaves Mal's lungs. He didn't know it could feel like this to be with someone, but he likes it more than he ever would've thought. For once no malice, no hurry to get done with it, no leaning against the next best cold surface, no fists and pain and harsh words just to feel something. Instead, now it almost feels too blissful. It fogs his brain, brings his core to a burn. It's horribly slow and yet not slow enough. Somewhere in him blossom feelings that are new and heavy and sweet, and maybe the tender little plant can become more, maybe it is enough for a sturdy garden that could survive even this freezing winter of obstacles they face.

For a brief moment, Ami's eyes flutter open, taking in the man under him. And if the slight tremor in his body tells anything, it must be that he shares the sentiment.

As soon as he's used to the stretch, his hips start moving. He lets them roll over Mal in a cautious half-thrust and Mal gives in to his desires, jerks up to meet him, coaxing deliciously sweet moans out of his lover as much as himself.

It's careful and loving, full of restraint at first, then they find an angle that fits and Ami loosens up, gets more demanding in the way he moves and Mal is happy to deliver whatever the other needs. They change rhythm ever so often when it gets too intense, when Ami's voice breaks off in desperate whines and Mal's thrusts become so frantic he has to halt altogether until his brain clears.

He plants his feet on the mattress which is giving him more leverage to roll up against Ami. And Ami, good, honest Ami finally does what Mal so desperately wants him to do – he breathes out something that very much sounds like Mal's name. He's gone so thoroughly by now, it takes him a while to come to awareness of what he's repeating over and over, that he's breaking his own rules, but then he lets go of the cybernetic hand to bite down on his own fist and with this, biting back any noises at all, much to Mal's keen disappointment.

Mal reaches for his hand again, pries it away to place light kisses on strained knuckles without taking his eyes off Ami. Their gazes are firmly anchored on each other and Ami's worry only shows in the way he works his lower lip with his teeth until it is swollen and crimson. The sight makes Mal smile again, and for Ami that's enough of an invitation to dip down and kiss him breathless.

Mal closes his arms around him, squeezes him tightly, and allows his hands to start wandering. His fingers cautiously ask permission as they slip under the tunic, lingering briefly. To his surprise, Ami allows it, and Mal's hands explore further, stroking over soft skin and palpable ribs until he dares reach forward, closing his hands around Ami's cock that was caught uselessly between their bellies. With a sigh, Ami hides his face against Mal's shoulder, but he keeps the rhythm they settled on, rocking against Mal in fast, deep movements.

The tension in his abdomen boils up. Mal wonders if he's allowed to warn him that he's feeling the buildup approach overrun, if it would upset Ami if he'd speak up or if it would be worse to take him at advantage like that. But the way Ami clings to him – closer than Mal has ever let anyone get to him – gives him confidence that maybe they really don't need that many words after all.

He makes a little noise and Ami catches on immediately, hums approvingly in response. Mal can feel the chuckle against his shoulder, kisses Ami's neck and Ami's now slow-paced movements draw out even longer as he feels Mal pulse inside of him. 

The orgasm washes through Mal like a wave of electricity. His hands snap to Ami's hips, holding him still as he pumps into him, silent pleas of ecstasy written on his face, followed by mute curses of overstimulation, bracing himself with shuddering legs, chasing and letting it go until he's lying there boneless, reduced to heaving breaths and sweat.

He hardly had a chance to enjoy his afterglow when Ami stirs, detaches himself from him, unpinning the fingers still on him and Mal looks up.

"Well, that was… not how I had imagined our first time." He tries to lighten the strangely tense mood with a half-laugh. He'd never complain about the initiative, no objections to a surprise fuck. But when he had fantasized about sleeping with Ami, it had always involved a lot more romantic atmosphere, naked skin and words of praise.

To his utmost horror, tears start forming in the brown eyes he's looking into.

"Ami…," he tries, reaching out, but Amiss is crying now as if he unplugged a dam, backing away from the touch as Mal reaches out a hand to him and Mal's stomach twists in shock.

"I'm sorry," Ami croaks, throat tight, "I'm so sorry. I know it's selfish. I wanted to sleep with you so badly and I ruined it."

Mal is so appalled that the "what?!" that bursts out of him is far too loud for the quiet room. Ami flinches like a dog used to a beating and when Mal tries to make up for his mistake, wants to kiss him and calm him down, Ami jumps out of bed. His legs don't support him yet, still too shaky from the effort, and Mal gets up to look over the edge of the mattress where the cute idiot he fell in love with is sitting on the floor looking utterly crestfallen. For a hot second, Mal is on the verge of panic. He hates seeing Ami like this and he hates even more that he’s the reason for it, but the whole situation is so ridiculously wrong it's really hard to stay serious about it.

"I didn't mean it," Mal says, voice like dripping honey. "You didn't ruin anything. Please come back to me."

Pretty eyes look up to him through wet lashes. When Ami makes no move, Mal decides he's not gonna let Ami humiliate himself any longer, and he gets out of bed to pick the fightless boy up bridal-style. He still weighs frighteningly little, Mal notices. Carefully, he sets Ami down on the sheets and lies with him, cautiously approaching, inch by inch, until Ami turns to face him and closes the gap to bury his face in Mal's chest. It’s a relief he feels in every limb.

Mal's hand strokes dark bristles of hair, just grown out enough to let his fingers comb through.

"It was different than I thought it would be. But it was still amazing. You are amazing."

Amiss is curling into a ball against him and Mal chuckles.

"Wanna try it with speaking next time?"

"Next time?"

"I mean, I hope there's a next time. If you want."

"Yes…"

"Do you want to finish?" Mal offers, his hand gliding over Ami's hip, directed towards his front but Ami shakes his head no with a little noise and Mal keeps petting his side instead.

They lie like that for a while. At some point, Mal has the mind to pull the covers over them and from then on Ami starts to gradually uncurl in the warmth.

He wonders what's up with the two sides of this coin. How a man who certainly has a fair share of sexual experience according to the way he acts, at the same time seems so frightened by his own needs. Mal hopes he gets the chance to find out one day.

Eventually he asks, "Are you going to flee if I get up?" There's concern seeping through Mal's voice that he had planned to conceal. "I'll go get something to clean you up."

The concept of aftercare seems utterly foreign to Ami if the look of confusion is any hint. Ami only agrees after Mal reassures him with a kiss that drags on longer than he had planned for. Ami keeps chasing after his lips for seconds and thirds and Mal just gives in every time like a lovesick airhead. But who could blame him? He needs to hear it.

"I'll stay."

[networkunsupported]

antigone is a comedy. to me. <- man who played hit character messenger #2

[nerice]

good morning i am thinking abt!!!!! ok it's technically spoilers but also really not bc u know black cat/nerice story is the first in a huge saga lol but i do think abt framing a lot. abt it being reina's world story and her struggles for acceptance and navigating the complex political peace/war factions all vying for her power (ultimately a tool) due to her immortality but the thing is!!!!! she's a god. conventional narrative arcs tell us that things get worse and then there will come a point where she figures things out where all sides can be pleased and she avoids her world being torn apart by its warring factions

but no,

the war lords are the least of her problems bc in her desperation she breaks the entire moon engine responsible for metaphysical equilibrium. and that's what ends up destroying her world, tearing it from its foundations, a fiery death for the wicked and the virtuous alike all is equal in death when faced with the inevitable apocalypse. except reina is still immortal and endures watching everything she loved (and/or hated, deep down) meet a gruesome end with only herself to blame. yeah the failsafe mechanism would have destroyed her, in the end, as well; alas

she just decides to not do that. largely desperation driven ofc (an invulnerable fist driven against the observer's sanctum for hours but he will not open, will not speak to her no longer) utterly, desolately alone. her world gone her only friend gone only she herself a forlorn, crestfallen all-powerful, powerless ruler with nothing to even pretend to call her own anymore. but she refuses to accept that & i think abt this moment soooo much!!!!! if all has to bow to her will, her wishes, then. so do the moons. and she fkicn forces the eternal cities into a touching orbit, not once but three times. successfully overriding the pull of the invisible moon that keeps them apart THREE TIMES. granted it's only the first one that is a genuine touch (which is why linnea is as powerful as she is, though still a pale imitation of what reina once was by comparison) and for the two subsequent world/rulers her own melody substitutes the needed spark, but man. the sheer power of that & it's literally. reina going outside of her narrative (after breaking it. however inadvertently) true rulers are intrinsically tied to their worlds, for one to exist without the other? unheard of. if peace cannot be found where it was promised her, she will make her own. however many worlds it takes, no matter what she has to break in the process. the black cat has left the box etc.

[ofdarkestdesires]

Clay, I noticed you have a thing for gorgeous blonde women who can kick your ass. What the fuck is up with that?

“I love a girl that can kick my ass. Is there something wrong with that?” He chuckled and shrugged. “No, but really, I like women that are confident, sure in themselves, and command attention—it just so happens that women that hit all those boxes also happen to be real badasses in a fight. As for them being blonde, I just think that hair color looks nice, and give them this beautiful radiance.”

He paused, then added, “also, big tits make my bull side want to breed sexy cows.”

[buysomecheese]

I want a dissertation on brotherhood in relation to birth order and senses of responsibility focusing on Eric Matthews and his relationship to school, sexuality, *homo*sexuality, and masculinity and how he projects/protects Cory through all of this and I want it NOW!

(Lots of fun little unorganized thoughts in tags <3)

[tutuandscoot]

That time someone threw a pair of pointe shoes on the ice after Carmen and Scott picked them up:

a) why ??

b) I hope they were broken in coz hard pointe shoes thrown from a distance could likely leave a dent in the ice

c) come on Scott put them on 🩰😄

[iknowplaces-tv]

im literally crying over my fucking earphones what is wrong with me

[llycaons]

oh and here's the dueling mentor who makes really sexual comments about younger characters and who once kissed her student on the lips. like he was an adult but. I'm uncomfortable 😭

[coryosbaby]

ꜰᴜᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴘ !

♡ content warning . dubious consent, mentions of drugging, sex work, breeding kink, cum play, weird usage of condoms, dom! Coryo

You didn’t know how you ended up like this.

Being an escort wasn’t an easy job. There were times when you were completely disgusted at the men who approached you (if not all of them). Coriolanus was supposed to be a normal client— someone that would fuck and go. Even with his ranking, you never suspected that he would… keep you.

You had had a few weird clients— some asked for the most vulgar, filthy things. Some of them followed you around before your boss had told them off.

But none of them have ever took you home.

You usually weren’t this stupid, this hazy minded, but Coriolanus had scooped you up with his wit and his charm and a bottle of something you hadn’t had before the economy went downhill. You had heard of him— of course you had—- the powerful, handsome, and extremely intelligent, Coriolanus Snow. And before you knew it you were being tossed onto his king sized bed and his tongue was scraping against the roof of your open mouth. You didn’t even have time to gape in drunken wonder at his enormous bedroom— all you could think about was the cock gliding in between your legs, meaty and thick and wet. He had become completely bare to you, regardless of your opposing position. You were still clothed in your pink floral dress and your basic cotton panties.

Coriolanus’ lips grazed over your jugular, his tongue nipping at your skin. You had never been this hot for anyone, especially not a client. Your panties were soaking, your clit was throbbing and you needed to cum. What was happening to you?

“Cor…” you tried to slur out, as your eyelashes fluttered.

“I know.”

His voice was incredibly gentle, and his big hands groped your tits through your dress. He lifted up the hem, made sure to expose your panties to him, and groaned. You could feel his precum smear against your thigh as he ground his aching member against you.

“Can’t even say my name, can you?” Coriolanus continues. “I have an idea. You can just call me Coryo. Short enough for your little brain to remember, yeah?”

Coryo. It was a nice name. A perfect name.

You moaned out when you felt the cool air hit the peaks of your puffy and swollen nipples. Coriolanus—Coryo— was peeling your dress off of your body. When the fabric was thrown across the room his mouth latched to one of your nipples. You mewled, hands going up to grasp his blonde curls, your chest very sensitive all of a sudden. You could feel that familiar organ probing at your folds, and— when did he put a condom on? You didn’t know, but relief would’ve coursed through you if you weren’t so aroused that you were practically drooling.

“Want it,” you whined out, scraping his scalp with desperation. “Coryo. Please.”

Huffing out a laugh, he reached down and wrapped his hand around his shaft. He gave it a few tugs, made sure the precum pearled over and made a sticky white stain on the inside of the latex. He used the tip to part your pussy lips and find your hole. He pushed in, slow at first, but your pussy was so wet from whatever he slipped in your cup that it was almost easy. Even with his overwhelming size, your cunt accepted his cock greedily, sucking him inside your tight canal. Coryo groaned, practically going cross eyed at the feeling of your warm, wet pussy.

“Never had a cunt so tight,” he grunted against you. “even with all the men you sell yourself to, you’re still squeezing me like a fucking vice, sweetness.”

Your mouth dropped open, his words making you impossibly hornier. Usually you would be offended by such a vile statement, but his big cock was throbbing and wading through your walls with such precision that it had your legs shaking.

And Coriolanus had this charisma about him— something that made his words even more powerful than most. And after that statement, he just kept talking.

“Oh, Angel. My good, special girl,” his thrusts were impossibly fast now, the plap plap plap of his balls slapping against your sore and raw fucked pussy making you cry. “You’re mine now.”

His. His, his, his. Your fingernails dug into him, his chest touching yours sending tingles all throughout your body, and he kept spewing out dirty innuendos. You never thought being fucked could feel this good. His fingers reached down and rubbed your swollen clit, and it was like magic, the way your pussy spasmed and your orgasm washed over you. Seizing up, you mewled out his name as you came on him.

Coryo was mesmerized by your cunt squeezing him so tightly. Your pretty folds, lips spread out and wet, your hole sucking him in like he was meant to be there, like he was meant to fuck his cum into your womb, it was all so much. No amount of classism could keep him from you. Not after this. District or not, he would make you his gorgeous little wife. He would give you everything, love for you, kill for you. With the thought of this possession towards you, his hips began to stutter. Your eyes were closed, but you were still humping yourself against his awaiting thrusts. His balls drew taught, and he could feel his awaiting cum begin to flood the condom wrapped around his length.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t right.

Not to Coriolanus. Not now— your pussy needed to be fucked full of his hot cum. You needed to be bred. And he was going to keep you and make sure of it.

Coriolanus watched your fluttering eyelids, the small smile grazing your features as his thrusts slowed. Something primal coursed through him, and he slowly pulled himself out of you. Watching your gaping hole made his cock twitch again, and he used his fingers to slowly twist the condom off of his cock. Full of his cum, he spread your lips with two fingers and turned the latex upside down. His spend dropped out of it and onto your used little hole, and you whimpered out as his cum splashed against your cunt.

“Coryo? What’r you doing?”

“Just getting you nice and wet for me, little bird. Close your eyes.. let me fuck you again.”

And like clockwork, his cock was probing your entrance for a second time— his sticky cum being pushed into your fertile womb by the tip of his pink mushroomed tip, his balls making more seed for your perfect pussy, and he was claiming your spent body with everything he had. <33