#indy drabble

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Show me what’cha got.” INDY claps a hand on your ass, congratulating you for your meager movements on top of him. Rocking your hips faithfully, you glide back and forth on his cock, letting its tip brush your g-spot just right.

“Can’t you do it?” you whine, leaning your weight your hand clasped in his, but he’s infallibly keeping you upright. “I want you to do it.” Your brows upturn in a flinch when he raises his hips to you, his tip kissing your cervix in a sting. His hand smooths over the pebbled flesh of your ass soothingly.

“Nah, princess, it’s my birthday. Wanna see you put the work in. C’mon, baby, you’re so beautiful, I love watching you.” he coos, but you have a feeling he just wants to give you a hard time. That wolfish grin has his canines glinting in the dull light, and you bounce hopelessly on top of him because of it, as if that’ll get you to your release faster. “Throwing some kind of tantrum?”

“What if I let you fuck my face after?” you bite back, but at the thought of it your hole grows a little slicker, and your hips gain a little more fervor. You watch him swipe his tongue between his lips at the sight of your pretty body rolling down on him.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna do that anyways. Right now ‘wanna watch you squirt.”

[ddejavvu]

i don’t have a headcanon i just have a thirst for sirius black ☝️ at my height of loving him, i used to have the reoccurring fantasy of making out in some dark abandoned corridor he took me to for the express purpose of being alone

oh god indy i got this at work the other day and i saw it while i was in the bathroom and then i had to frantically apologize to my manager who was covering me when i accidentally took like five minutes zoned out daydreaming about it instead of going back up to the front.

--

he's a sleaze about it. he puts on this gaudy rebel persona, smooth talks you out of the great hall after dinner and walks you down a corridor that leads towards the old divination classroom that the professor decided wasn't fit for her class anymore. it's kept clean but there's no risk of anyone finding you there- it's totally abandoned. you're completely alone with him.

you have half a mind to ask him if he always brings people here while he's nipping at your neck but instead of answering he just moves his spit-slicked lips back to your own to shut you up. if you do get an answer out of him he'll say yes but 'you're the best'. you think nothing of it until he drags you down there again, and when you ask if anyone's ever been brought twice he grins down at you and says 'no. 'said you're the best, didn't i?'

he's such a kisser- doesn't even take you there to have sex with you, just wants to makeout. wants spit to be running down your chin and he wants your lips to be practically bruised by the time he's done with you. if of course you sink to your knees and unbuckle his belt he'll let you, but it's an expansion on his plans for the night, it's not a box to check off of them. you can get him in the mood for sex but he'd rather do that on a bed- quickies in the corridor can only sustain him for so long until he needs it proper.

[thatsdemko]

something bout you - p. o'ward

masterlist | pairing: Pato o’ward x Rossi!fem!reader summary: your love for him is different and he couldn’t love it more. warnings: 18+ content + mentions of Indy500 results + fluff + angst(?) + minor errors a/n: hiiii! Im back :) I’ve been working on this since the results of indy500 and while it’s not perfect I hope you all enjoy!

where your brother was a dark cloud on rainy days, you were the thunder and lightning that boomed across the sky alongside him. its enticing to someone like him.

he’s drawn to the identical to dark like storm eyes, black hair that sways across your back. you were rossi’s identical down to the bone. zak brown used to swear it was traumatizing, now Pato finds it adoring.

where Alexander was millennial humor, and minimal smiles, you were nothing but witty gen z comebacks and a smile once a month. Pato found your personalities jarring in comparison, but made it his mission to brighten your clouds.

“woah.”

it sounded more like a whoosh of air exhaling from his lips. seeing you in a dark blue floor length gown truly took the air and words from his lungs. it threatens the muscles in your cheeks to tug upward, but you refuse to give pato the satisfaction of a smile.

“what?” you whip your head in his direction. navy blue suit jacket, a white shirt that was slightly unbuttoned, and matching pants. he looks heavenly. you hate that.

“you look gorgeous, amor.” the nickname rolls off his tongue, a smirk tugging his lips as he watches red flicker across your cheeks. you didn’t need to show any other signs of affection for him to know that subtle weakness for him.

“and you look like a buffoon. not even a suit can help your case.”

a chuckle escapes his lips, and for the first time since sunday morning he’s actually smiling. leave it to a rossi to lift his spirits.

“you brighten my day, Rossi.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Alex comes up behind you. his black suit and dark blue tie matching your dress like twins.

right, he reminds himself, siblings. she’s not for you.

“other Rossi,” you reply turning to your brother, “you think way too highly of yourself.”

—

a permanent scowl formed the second Josef took the stage. it was a common look for you, though you masked it well during most days, tonight was one of those moments you let it rip.

Josef drove a hell of a drive yesterday, but seeing him on stage was all but a reminder of what Pato lost and for some reason that angered you. having to watch your brother, his sister, and his own team members lift him up from another disappointing loss trickles into your memory. it was a well deserved win for Josef, but your heart ached for somebody else.

somebody you definitely shouldn’t have feelings for, but you find yourself having. someone who opened up the dark cloud and made it a little brighter.

when Pato finally took the stage, all he could see was you. the scowl loosening from your face to a contorted smile. all energy from earlier drained out of him. having to be reminded of his failed efforts, but he did enjoy the view of you practically envisioning what it would be like to strangle newgarden.

“that’s two smiles this month.” Pato whispered into your ear when he passed you to his seat. he could hear a low grumble come from you, and the scowl was back, but aimed at him.

he reveled in it. taking in all your features and how hard you work to keep your vulnerability inside that hard shell. because for a split second when he took that stage he saw you for what you truly were; a fool in love with him.

—

“I like when you get defensive of me.” he says, coming up from behind you. he rests his chin against your shoulder, the hairs that fell out his gel slicked back tickle your skin.

“the scowl was out of annoyance. don’t think too deep about it.” you say, attempting to fight his touch, but it’s too much strength to do so. you just relax your body into his and allow yourself to be held.

“I like to think you actually do love me.”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you feel his lips graze the sensitive part of neck. you can feel your knees weaken, ready to crumble into his arms.

love was a strong word and emotion, but it never felt big and scary with Pato. love was different with him. different was good, different was better than whatever you’d read in books. you didn’t need the fairytales, you just needed someone to remind you to smile once a month. or not attempt murder when he lost important races.

“say it,” he mumbles into your skin, teeth running across your flesh, you can feel goosebumps scatter across your skin, “say you love me.” he takes a piece of your skin in between your teeth, the sound of your sharp inhale fuels the fire in him.

“I do,” you swallow, trying to steady yourself against him, “I love you.” you spin around to face him, your dark eyes stare into his chocolate ones.

he nudges your body towards the bed and you comply. seating on the edge of the bed, you watch him remove his suit jacket. the most mundane task, was such a turn on for you. you unconsciously open your legs for him.

“I love you too,” he presses his knee in between your thighs, gently dropping your back onto the mattress, “even when you want to murder me.”

“I’d murder for you,” you say pulling him by the collar of his shirt, “but if you don’t fuck me, I will strangle you.” you growl into his ear before sinking your teeth into the outer edge of his lobe.

“you always seem to have a way with the words.”

[glitterforashes]

𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐩 ; 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

>>> drabbles for the main sally face boysss, sal fisher, and larry johnson. sal’s is inspired by bubblegum by clairo, larry’s is inspired by east liberty by partnextdoor.

𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 —

mildly obsessed with the uncertainty of ghost hunting.

too curious for his own good. literally curious george. the curiosity that killed the cat.

laid-back, doesn’t give a damn about most things.

has a very deep voice for a teenager. sounds like a literal grown man.

sometimes you can’t tell if he’s even awake.

“sal? sally? sal??” he’s just staring into the void.

“what?” he had to sneeze. that’s why he paused and went radio silent for two minutes straight.

you spend most of your time in his room, curled up on his bed reading while he sits on his bean bag chair and plays video games.

sometimes turns around to make sure you’re still awake / doing okay.

one time you put a toy rat next to him. he nearly shit his pants when he noticed it.

“(y/n)?” “hm?” “you’re fuckin’ ugly.”

doesn’t mean it. apologizes right after. he thinks he’s so funny.

grew comfortable enough around you to lift up his mask far enough to eat.

whenever you sleep over, he’ll take off his mask once all the lights are off.

loves watching movies with you, especially when there’s snacks involved.

will listen to every sanity falls album over and over again with you.

you had been switching between reading, doing homework, and playing video games for close to five hours, well into the twilight era of the night. it was 10pm when you decided to start getting ready for bed, being as both of you had school in the morning. you showered as sal brushed his teeth and combed through his hair, then switched. sal showered as you did your skincare and brushed your teeth and put your hair up. you both fell into his bed after he switched the light off, taking your respective sides. you liked to sleep next to the wall for the purpose of putting your body against it if it got too hot, and sal liked sleeping closest to the door for emergency purposes. you wore his tshirt and boxers, and he wore boxers. you turned over to face him, propping your arm underneath your head. he laid with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “sal?” “hm?” his gruff voice always soothed you in a strange way. “can i.. touch you?” you heard the movement of the sheets as he turned his head. even in the dark you could tell he was looking at you. “what?” “can i touch you? like, your face?” sal had never let you see his face up to this point. he preferred to keep it hidden, only sometimes letting you see his lips. he was silent. “you don’t have to.” “okay. you can.” you looked at where you assumed he was, breathing in deep. “are you sure?” “yeah.” he whispered. you slowly reached out, feeling out for where his face was. you found it, your fingertips pressing lightly against his cheeks. he flinched under your touch, a sharp inhale sounding through the little space you had between your bodies. “are you okay?” you whispered, starting to retract your hands. “yes. it’s fine.” you nodded, swallowing a lump in your throat that wouldn’t go away. you loved sal. you knew vaguely of his past and understood where the roots of his insecurity started, but societally accepted face or not, nothing would change your love for him. you gently ran your fingers over the expanse of his skin, feeling his lips and cheekbones, and the dips. the missing flesh, the scars. and you loved it. loved him, loved what made him so unique. you pulled your hands away slowly, grinning to yourself. you could hear the quiet sniffle. “sal? are you alright?” “do you think i’m.. gross?” he asked. your heart broke. you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his chest. his arm slung over your body naturally, pulling you closer. “no, sally. i could never. you’re beautiful.” he turned his head, resting his face on your hair. you felt the very slight puckering of his lips as he kissed the crown of your head. “thank you.”

𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 —

his mom LOVES YOU. absolutely adores you. you two have girls nights all the time.

took you to the sanity falls concert tour for your birthday, kissed you in the rain, and took you home sopping wet. your dad wasn’t pleased.

“uh— we got caught in the rain, sir.” “i see that.”

apologized for weeks. it still makes you laugh.

smokes so much weed it’s a miracle he remembers his name.

“hey man, how’s my driving?” “…i think we’re parked, man.” vibes

you’re constantly sleeping over at his place, you have a drawer in his dresser dedicated to your belongings.

is very meticulous with his hair. has a hair care routine. refuses to cut it for any reason.

has painted you on multiple occasions. boudoir shoots happen often.

“paint me like one of your french girls.”

loves watching horror movies with you.

is surprisingly very gentle and sweet, especially when you’re upset. unless it’s with travis. fuck travis. all my homies hate travis.

“hey, girl. what’s the matter?”

holds you until you feel better and is very patient

listens to the sanity falls albums constantlyyy it drives you crazy.

“larry— stop. you’re gonna green out.” he exhaled a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face, smirking. “greening out is a make-believe concept made up by losers who can’t handle their marijuana.” you swear larry only knows big words when he’s high. when he’s sober, he has the articulation of the average seventh grader, but when he’s high he turns into fucking shakespeare and it’s crazy. specifically because if he’s high, there’s a good chance you’re high, and you won’t understand half the shit he says. the sound of the tardy bell rattled against your skull as it rung throughout the entire school, screaming at you and larry to get to class before the dean came hunting you down. you took one more big drag from the blunt you two had rolled during study hall before stamping it out and throwing it in the toilet, flushing the evidence. you two shuffled out of the tiny bathroom stall, looking at each other proudly. “sniff me.” you stepped closer and sniffed his shirt, him doing the same for you. “nah, i think we’re good.”

ya’ll were not good. both of you smelled absolutely rank, so it was truly no surprise when you ended up in the dean’s office, but it surprised you to see larry sitting in the office waiting area with a bloody nose. “oh, hey man.” you fist bumped him as you plopped into the chair next to him, manspreading the entire seat. “what happened to your face?” “fuckin’ travis wanted to run his mouth. kicked his ass, but when i turned around he clipped me in the nose. kicked his ass again, now i’m here.” “word.” you were so faded it was humorous. “what about you? what’d you do this time?” “ms. fat tits sent me out because i was ‘stinking up the room’ and if i ‘wanted to smoke pot and ruin my mind’ i needed to do it at home.” you cackled, larry joining in.

“is something funny?” the principal asked the both of you. you straightened up and held your breath, shaking your head no. you and larry looked at each other from the corner of your eyes simultaneously and you exploded with laughter. long story short you both got suspended for three days. did you give a fuck? hell no. hence why you were now in larry’s room in nothing but a sanity falls tshirt and underwear, rolling up another fat one. “you’re my favorite person, y’know that?” “(y/n), shut the fuck up.” he shook his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “you’re my favorite person too.”

[doodlesdreaming]

“This concert was definitely worth sneaking into!”

Dance with the Dead AU- @zoanluen

[yameoto]

need to hear your thoughts on bare (2015) / dianna in that cause that movie was ass but sarah was so cute and literally a pathetic wet cat i need her

my roman empire is that dianna initially wanted the role of pepper. what i wouldn’t have given to have dianna agron play sleazy drug dealer hobo dyke. but sarah. god sweet!smalltown!sarah. need to be the one to corrupt her sweet silly silken angelface.

thinking about fucking her in the backseat of her boyfriend’s car. only in town for a day and you’ve got this pretty blonde wrapped around your finger. wrapped around your fingers. making her squirt all over the backseat so juicy the acids gonna stain the leather. listening to her gorgeous, breathy croons and airy moans of “fuck!” that sound more like puffs of air against your cheek. adorable. you know for sure this girl hasn’t had an orgasm not by her hand almost ever. has probably never so much as had a couple beers. smoked a lil shitty za that’s half lavender n half dirt from how backwater this town is. need to show her the real city. with real people. need to show her real sex, with her legs slung up over the car seats so you have full view of your fingers pumping in and out of her glistening cunt. all spread out and pulsing in the open, humid air. mouth hot, obscene wet noises squelching in the car, windows steaming up as your tongue swirls n you’re sucking on her clit. pushing three fingers in, even deeper. do all smalltown girls sound this melodic when they cum? do they all jerk their limbs like a skittering foal with their blonde locks sticking in beautiful curls around their sweat-sheened forehead? god. god. and it’s only when her back snaps and her mouth opens to cry out your name that she realises she doesn’t even know it.

[buckevantommy]

It's easy, easy love. Slow, and unhurried. Gentle, and unyielding.

After a lonely, hard winter, it's a lazy springtime afternoon where new growth blooms around them.

In Tommy's backyard they're tucked together in a hammock, swaying in the breeze, rocked softly in the inhale-exhale of the world. The latening sun dances on their skin, dappled by the shade of trees whose roots go deep enough and branches stand tall enough.

They're enough for each other. They know that, now.

Tommy's hand rests on Buck's ribs, over his newest tattoo. He idly fiddles with those fingers; not restless, but calm: allowed to touch, welcome to, wanted to.

Buck's ear rests on Tommy's chest. He can feel that heart beating steady and strong beneath him, through him. Feel that chest rising and falling with the breathing breeze. Fingers card through his curls and a kiss is planted on the crown of his head, the sewing of another seed of love.

He'll live here, with Tommy, in time. When enough time has passed that the worry of too much, too soon holds no sway. They know this is real, lasting. There's no rush.

Buck was too much for every partner he ever had. Tommy thought he was never enough. To Buck, Tommy is everything - everything he ever wanted and didn't know he could want. And he feels so seen and wanted in return, just as he is.

Just as they are.

[oscolotlxzooxx]

A meaningful goodbye

(Owner of drawing)

"Those characters out there.. Be their friends for me!" Queenie whispered a desperate plee before she fully abstracted. The way she looked at Kinger with nothing but hope in her eyes to not scare the love of her life. The king of her fortress.

"I promise.. I'll hold you dear in my heart- all of us, my sweet. I promise." Kinger said while trying not to stutter or sob mid sentence. The strength in his voice has weakened, as his sobs began to grow in muscle.

Every last fiber it took for him to let go of her hand when the abstraction went down her arm was something that Kinger never would have imagined. Queenie,, although had to endure so much pain just to abstract, pulled her hand away with every last bit of strength she had. And when she was finished abstracting.. She stood there. Looking at Kinger. Her formally king.

"Checkmate, my dear. Please bring peace to yourself.. Don't think about the pain." Kinger said in a low, calming voice. The same voice that would have always soothed her worries. He looked at her with the same loving expression as he had always given her from the start. With a gentle hand carressing his lover from what he assumed was to be her face, he connected his forehead with hers. Without getting any backlash from the touch from the abstracted, Kinger closed his eyes and thought of every last moment that was held dear to his heart; if his chess piece figure really had one anymore. He silently wished her a safe goodbye as he backed away from his sweet.

Standing before him was nothing more but a pained memory. As he saw her get lifted ever so gently from the ground, a hole magically appeared beneath her, and down she went with a gentle force, allowing her to touch the black floor carefully without being hurt.

Kinger just stood there once more, not daring to be seen by her again as he thought it would only pain her even more. He imagined another life- a new beginning- shining between them to be together once again, on a new planet, and a new physical form. He imagined them as butterflies, or maybe colorful looking beetles-he always knew beetles were her favorite within the bug kingdom. He held onto that thought in his mind to keep him sane, as he silently cried without another word.

Alone my sweet, I hope a meaningful goodbye.

divider credits

[vrachis]

saw your post about poolboy!reader and as someone's who also at a pool, hell yes. reader trying to stay profession and not drool over hot women

also they would jump into the water to save a hot lady (who may or may not be faking to be carried by reader) m

oo! yes yes, i highly agree anon!

reader is always so professional when it comes to their job, trying to wander around the pool to lookout for others and be aware, but as soon as they meet women who are most likely to catch their eyes, that persona crumbles down!

they are so likely to internally scream at the amazing sights, trying to not drool so intensely at the view of women wearing revealing things. although they’ve seen countless women wearing similar things, nobody could beat the ones they see right now.

and as soon as one of them seem to be in possible danger, they’re quick to hear the pleas for help and jump into the pool heroically, taking the opportunity to shine and show themselves.

as soon as they have the lady in their arms, they’re quick to have the professional personality back on, to avoid any suspicious behaviour.

they still observe the way the woman would look at them astonished, thanking them confidently for the assistance.

reader as usual, gives a stoic “no problem, it’s part of the job.” but the lady seems to be unsatisfied by the response, seeing how they look like they have no interest in her whatsoever.

but then the vivid image of you eyeing them so intently earlier popped back up in her head.

so giving you a small smirk, she uses the advantage of still being in your arms to lean closer to you ear, whispering,

“is there any way i can thank you personally?~”

[miss-sturn]

Ghostface | Matt Sturniolo | Finale.

'What's the matter Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

ghostface!matt x reader

Chapter 9: Thriller night.

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9

Warnings: Death. Bad ending. Cursing.

My hand hovered over the doorknob, the ominous words still echoing in my head:

"Don't answer the door."

But I couldn’t ignore it. We needed help, and this was our way out.

“Matt, don't!” y/n’s voice cut through the tension, her fear palpable. I turned to see her behind me, wide-eyed and trembling. I wanted to tell her to run, but the words caught in my throat as I faced the monster before me.

I glance at y/n one last time. Her face is pale, her eyes silently pleading with me. I push the thought aside. This has to be over. It has to.

With a deep breath, I yank the door open.

And there he is.

Me. But not me.

My doppelganger stands in the doorway, his twisted grin illuminated by the dim hallway light.

His hand clenches a bloody knife, and in his other, a torn candy bag drips with something far darker than chocolate. His eyes lock onto mine, his grin widening.

"Trick or treat, bitch."

The sight of him freezes my blood, and before I can react, he lunges at me, shoving me backward into the apartment.

The door slams shut, trapping us all in this nightmare.

I scramble to my feet, reaching for y/n, but she hesitates, backing away. There's a flicker in her eyes—a trace of fear mixed with something unrecognizable.

She’s pulling away from me. 

The doppelgänger laughs, a bone-chilling sound that sends a shiver down my spine.

"You thought you could save her?" he mocks. "You thought this was all just a bad dream?"

I stagger, heart racing. My muscles feel leaden, every move like wading through quicksand.

He advances toward y/n, the knife glinting menacingly, "Get away from her!" I lunge to grab him, but my vision blurs, the room twisting and spinning.

But…the twist.

Y/n's eyes lock onto mine, her lips curling into a small, almost apologetic smile.

And then… she steps forward, toward him.

I freeze, disbelief washing over me as she whispers something under her breath, something I can’t quite make out.

Then she takes his hand.

"Y/n?" My voice cracks, barely audible, the shock too much to process.

She turns to me, her face pale but determined. "I’m sorry, Matt," she says, her voice cold. "But… this was always going to happen."

My breath caught in my chest as the realization hit me: she was no longer just a terrified girl caught in the middle of my nightmare.

And with a swift, brutal motion, she takes the knife from his hand and drives it deep into my chest.

I gasp, the pain exploding through my body. The betrayal stings even more than the blade as I collapse to the floor, blood pooling around me.

“You thought you could save her?” my doppelgänger mocked, glancing back at y/n, who now wore a chilling smile. “She’s mine.”

The last thing I see before darkness overtakes me is their figures—mine and hers—standing over me, smiling as the room around us begins to twist and warp. Like the nightmare isn’t over, like it’s just beginning.

Darkness.

I blink, groggy and disoriented, lying on y/n’s kitchen floor. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, and for a moment, everything feels ordinary, safe.

I sit up slowly, my hand flying to my chest, but there’s no wound, no blood. I glance around, confused but relieved to see y/n sleeping on the couch nearby.

There’s no blood, no knife. Was it all just a nightmare?

I stagger to my feet, my chest aching with a raw, hollow pain that sinks deep. The betrayal is a fresh wound, and my heart twists as I watch her, sitting there with a chilling calm.

Every moment echoes with her words: “It was always going to happen.”

Unable to shake the image of her turning against me, I back away, fury and sorrow boiling up until it’s almost unbearable.

Blinded by betrayal, I stumble into the kitchen, hands trembling as I fumble through the drawer and pull out a cold, gleaming knife.

Each step feels heavier, a weight pressing down as I return to her side, blade clutched tight.

“Why?” I whisper, voice raw, a tear sliding down my cheek. But she only watches, unreadable, offering no answers, no remorse. Just that silent, haunting calm.

In a single, swift motion, I drive the knife into her chest.

She gasps, her eyes widening as they meet mine, and my breath catches as I see, not malice or anger in her gaze, but… innocence.

Her lips part, a flicker of pain flashing across her face, as if she’s seeing me for the first time. A tear rolls down her cheek, glistening in the dim light.

Was this… was this not her?

The silence after the final shudder of her breath hangs heavy, oppressive. My chest tightens, and I stumble back, the knife slipping from my fingers and clattering to the floor.

My mind races, confusion blurring with horror as I stare at her still form, trying to make sense of the innocence in her eyes, the tear that glistened there.

But then, the doorbell rings.

And this time, it’s real.

My stomach twists with dread as I stand, my heart pounding in my chest. Slowly, I approach the door, every instinct screaming at me to stop, to turn back.

But I don’t.

I open the door.

Standing there, just as before, is my doppelgänger, his grin wider than ever, his eyes gleaming with malice. He raises the knife again, dripping with fresh blood.

"I told you," he whispers, stepping forward. "You can't kill what's already dead."

But then, a shadow stirs behind him.

It’s y/n, emerging from the darkened hallway, her movements slow, unnatural, like a puppet on strings. Blood stains her shirt where the knife pierced her, yet her eyes burn with a twisted, malevolent glow.

Her lips pull into a sickly smile, and she steps forward, her gaze locked onto mine with a predatory gleam that sends chills down my spine.

In that moment, a sick jolt of disbelief surged through me, twisting into a horror that clawed at my chest. I thought I’d ended this—I thought she was gone.

“Y/n… how? How can you be with him?” I whispered, my voice raw, barely audible. I backed away, feeling a betrayal so deep it left me hollow.

“Why not, Matt? He understands me,” she replied, her voice dripping with venom. “You were always too scared to embrace the darkness.”

Then, without a word, she ran into the darkness, her figure blurring as the kitchen began to twist and shift around me.

The once familiar space morphed into a chilling corn maze, the walls of towering stalks looming ominously. Shadows danced between the rows, whispering secrets that sent shivers down my spine.

“Y/n!” I called out, my voice echoing in the eerie silence. I felt a strange pull, a desperation driving me forward as I sprinted deeper into the unnatural corn maze.

Each turn brought new terrors: rustling leaves that seemed to mock my every step, distant whispers that tickled the back of my mind.

The air thickened, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something far more sinister.

But then I saw her—a flash of movement in the distance. “Y/n!” I shouted again, pushing past the creeping vines and twisting paths.

My heart raced as I navigated the maze, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Suddenly, the doppelgänger appeared, but just as quickly as he came, he vanished into the shadows, leaving only the chilling echo of his laughter behind.

My instincts screamed at me to turn back, but I couldn’t abandon her, not now.

The corn stalks whispered around me, their rustling growing louder, and I felt a chilling sense of dread settle in.

Just when I thought I was lost forever, I caught sight of her again, standing still at the end of a narrow path, her back turned to me.

"Y/n." I say softly, my voice barely more than a whisper, my heart aching with a storm of emotions—betrayal, grief, an aching need to understand, and... something else I can’t even name.

As I gaze at her, conflicting emotions wrestle within me. I had just killed her—had felt the warmth of her blood on my hands, the finality of her breath leaving her body.

And yet, here she stood, hauntingly beautiful amidst the corn maze's shadows. I should feel rage, betrayal, but instead, an ache in my chest deepens.

Y/n pauses, and for a heart-stopping moment, everything goes still. She turns, slowly, her movements unnaturally deliberate, like she’s savoring every second. My breath catches as her face finally comes into view.

Her eyes are dark, glistening with a strange light, and her lips curve into a bittersweet, knowing smile. It's a face I almost recognize—but twisted, hollow, like the girl I knew has been swallowed by something else.

Then she speaks, and her eyes soften, but for a moment, it’s like I’m looking at the girl I used to know—the girl who’d laugh at my jokes, who'd smile shyly when I caught her glancing my way.

Her expression shifts, a glimmer of sadness touching her features as she looks at me with those familiar, tender eyes.

"You really think we can escape this, Matt?" she asks, almost pleading. Her lips tremble as though she’s fighting back tears. "This is Halloween... their night."

“Matt…” she breathed, her voice now soft and vulnerable. “Don’t you see? This is our chance. We can be free.”

In that moment, something shifted, and I was drawn to her. The darkness that had enveloped us faded for just an instant, revealing the deep connection we shared.

I stepped forward, our bodies inches apart, the heat between us igniting a fire I thought was lost.

“I’ll save you,” I whispered, my voice laced with determination as I closed the distance between us, my heart racing. I reached out, brushing my fingers against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. “I won’t let him take you.”

I leaned in, our lips meeting in a desperate kiss as I gently cradled her face, her delicate body.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt right—until I tasted something metallic, something warm.

I pulled back, confusion flooding my senses as I realized it was blood, her blood, seeping from her mouth.

The blood poured steadily from her mouth as she stepped back, staring at me with wide eyes, an evil smile gracing her lips as she cocked her head to one side.

Then, she reached out, stroking my face with her fingertips, the softness of her touch contrasting the horror of the moment.

"I've always loved you, Matt,” she said softly, the words hanging heavy in the air.

I felt a rush of emotions, my heart aching with a desperate longing to tell her how much she meant to me, how I would do anything to pull her back from the darkness. But the words caught in my throat, leaving me paralyzed.

Then, with one final look of pity, she spun round, disappearing into the corn maze once again.

My heart pounded in my chest as I touched my bloodstained lips, the metallic taste a grim reminder of what had just transpired. I had to find y/n—I had to save her.

With renewed determination, I bolted down the darkened maze, my feet pounding against the floor as I pushed through the suffocating fear.

“Trick or treat!” she screamed, her laughter echoing eerily in my mind as I dashed deeper into the shadows, her voice haunting me, refusing to let go.

But as I ran, I stumbled and fell hard, the impact jolting me back to reality. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp pain in my side.

“Don’t you want to feel the thrill?” her voice echoed through the hall, laced with malicious glee, sending chills down my spine.

I shook my head sharply, fighting against the intoxicating pull of her voice. The shadows morphed around me, twisting into nightmarish shapes, taunting me with glimpses of what I feared I might lose forever.

Then;

“Matt,” she called softly, that deceptively sweet tone wrapping around me like a vice. “Come join us. We’ve been waiting for you.”

I whip my head around, in search of the voice. But a bitter truth dawns on me. Y/n was dead. This was not her. This was her doppelganger.

I turned to escape, ready to find another way out, when suddenly, y/n emerged out of nowhere, her figure gliding between the corn stalks like a wraith. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with an iron grip, her eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity.

"Come join us." She said, her mouth stained with blood, head tilted to the side.

I try to yank myself free, but it's no use. Her eyes turn angry when she sees the look of horror on my face.

"Don't run from me." She snarls, her tone dripping with urgency and something darker. I felt a jolt of panic, confusion twisting in my gut as I tried to pull away, but her hold was unyielding.

"Let go of me!" I yell, my voice echoing into the endless void of the corn maze.

Then her face suddenly drops, devoid of any emotion, transforming into something freakishly calm. A smile played on her lips, but it was devoid of warmth. She stared into the void, her gaze distant and unsettling.

Then she uttered one chilling word: “Run.”

Panic surged through me, and I stumbled, yanking free of her grip. As I turned to flee, I felt a knot of dread tighten in my gut, the shadowy remnants of her presence lingering as I raced away.

Without thinking, I rounded a corner and came face to face with my doppelgänger, who stood there with that twisted grin, his eyes gleaming with malice.

Just as I was about to crash into him, a sudden, surreal sensation enveloped me. I felt myself floating, the world around me blurring and twisting as I was pulled through him, as if I were a mere ghost passing through a wall.

In an instant, everything shifted, and I found myself transported back to the kitchen. The room was eerily quiet, but the suffocating feeling of dread lingered, pressing against my chest like a heavy weight.

Matt stumbled forward, breath heaving as he felt himself cross an invisible threshold, the haunting echoes behind him fading into silence.

For a moment, he thought he’d escaped—that he was free of the nightmare. He took a shaky breath, grounding himself in the stillness of the night.

But then—pain, sharp and unrelenting, bloomed in his back, stealing his breath. His knees buckled as he looked down to see a blade’s edge protruding just below his ribs, blood seeping through his shirt.

His body convulsed, and he fell forward, his mind struggling to process what was happening.

But even as he felt himself slipping away, he could hear her voice echoing in the night, haunting and beautiful. “You wanted the thrill, Matt. Now you’ll live it.”

The world spun as he dropped to his knees, hands instinctively clutching his chest, blood pooling beneath his fingers.

Weakly, he looked up, hoping for one last glimpse of her, of the person he once trusted.

But her face was devoid of warmth, her eyes fixed on him with a twisted satisfaction. She leaned down, close enough that he could feel the coldness radiating from her.

In that moment, I understood the true horror of Halloween.

I was trapped, destined to relive this nightmare over and over again.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing my doppelgänger, now fully formed and grinning widely. “You can’t kill what’s already dead, Matt,” he said, his voice a twisted mockery of my own.

“You can’t kill what’s already dead,” he repeated, stepping closer.

Again. And again.

You can't kill what's already dead. You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead. You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead.You can't kill what's already dead. You can't kill what's already dead.

"Darkness falls across the land, the midnight hour is close at hand. Creatures crawl in search of blood, To terrorize y'all's neighborhood.

And whosoever shall be found, Without the soul for getting down, Must stand and face the hounds of hell, And rot inside a corpse's shell.

taglist: @lexisecretaccx @itssophiasstuff @junnniiieee07

@bernardsbendystraws for the divider!!

a/n: lowkey rushed this!

[hanasnx]

“ DON’T HAVE TO BE THE PERFECT TEN FOR US TO BE MORE THAN FRIENDS ” — indy.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: kinktober. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship: coworkers to lovers ノ size difference ノ smoking: nic ノ hair pulling (m receiving) ノ sexual content: p in v stuff, just the tip ノ dirty talk: mild degradation.

You hear the familiar jangle of COWORKER!INDY’s chains, swinging against his black baggy jeans as he approaches you from behind. “You good?” he asks you, and you face him just as you finish your task.

“Yeah, sorry. Should’ve said something.” you reply, and he nods, throwing up a thumbs-up before turning on his heel once you confirmed you don’t need his help anymore. Your lips press together as you watch him, and he pulls up his sagging pants from under his zip-up, flashing you a glimpse of his black boxers. Tilting your head, you’re not subtle in checking him out.

You’ve been working with Indy for a while, and you’ve found that you fit well with his easygoing nature. He’s not your boss but he’s been here longer than you, so you lean on him to answer your questions. Not to mention, there’s a sort of casual connection, getting along with during the long work hours.

“Catch.” he tells you, his keys jumping from his palm into line with your face. You flinch, your hand coming up to protect yourself, but when you hear his snicker you peel your eyes open in time to see the lanyard still connected to the keychain yank them back into his palm. The loop of it never left his wrist, effectively faking you out.

“Ugh! Jerk.” you scold, punctuating it with a hit to his arm. It keeps him entertained, that snicker sustaining as he spins the keys around his index finger before shoving them into his back pocket. The lanyard swings out from behind him as he walks off.

Suffice to say, you feel like you’ve known him for a long time. Like as one of your friends punky older brother, or someone you went to high school with and had a couple classes with. You aren’t quite friends, but you’re comfortable around him.

Not to mention, you like that he has your back against customers. He’s explained to you, “It’s not that I think you can’t handle it, I just really love pissing people off.” which you think is his way of trying to avoid undermining you when he steps in. You’re not the most confrontational person in the world, but he sounds like he is.

At one point, a customer had invited himself past the counter, and since you deal with sensitive information at this job, you could very well be fired for having someone see something they shouldn’t. Your heart rate jumps at the prospect of termination, mixed with the twinge of anxiety that comes with kicking someone out.

Before you can steel yourself, Indy beats you to it. “Sir, you can’t be back here.” he begins as he strides towards the customer. Instead of politely backing out from behind the counter, he simply waves Indy off, continuing to eye the merchandise at his leisure.

Indy doesn’t hesitate, stepping in front of the client, cutting his view off and herding him towards the door with his body. “Back up. Back.” he directs, and the stranger travels backward but at a snail’s pace.

“I am, I am.” he relents, and you can see on his face he’s resentful at being treated like a child.

“Takin’ your sweet time.” Indy chides, and follows him until the man is safely behind the door. “I will get to you when I’m ready.” Out of all of his words, those are his most firm, and even if they’re simple, the entire situation had you on edge. It was an elegant show of strength, rather than some pissing contest, and it saved you the trouble of doing it yourself. Indy strides past you, and you get a whiff of his cologne. Your heart beats fast, but it’s not because of the confrontation anymore.

“Thanks.” you tell him later when you get the chance.

He looks down at you, surprised you’d say such a thing. In classic Indy fashion, he doesn’t play the knight-in-shining-armor. He twists it into a joke, manually lowering your expectations of him. “What were you gonna do about it, squirt? Frown really hard at him?”

Instead of playfully admonishing him, you feel braver. Your finger comes to flick at the black bandana he chose to wear around his neck today. He tries out little fashion accessories every now and then. “You look like a dork.” you say, and at the sight of your reach his eyes follow to the destination.

Furrowing his brows at your taunt, he shrugs it off to continue his work on the computer, “Shut up, I look awesome.” he replies. Your gaze glues to how his long fingers sweep across the screen.

Around the same time every day, Indy takes a smoke break by his car, and today you join him.

“Hey, kid. Over here.” he’d said. Now, your tailbone is leaned up against his car door as he offers you a cigarette. You shake your head. He takes a long drag, and you’ve noticed that he lets the smoke linger as a cloud in his mouth before inhaling. It’s an observation made after staring too long at his piercings in the dull light behind your building.

It’s odd. Most coworkers you’ve had, they’ve jumped at the opportunity to ask you to hang out outside of work. However, Indy’s never done that. So you question if he’s into you like you’re into him, or if he’s just polite. You’re a little disappointed he hasn’t given you the chance to say yes to him because standing here now you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“Why’d you call me over here?” you question, your curiosity and the need to fill the silence getting the better of you. He peers at you from out of the corner of his eye, and you feel small.

“What if I like having you around?” It’s not really a question, the tone shifting to a sarcastic one—as if enjoying your presence warrants a reason further than just that. “You itching to get back to work or something?” He gestures towards the front entrance with his hand. “You can go, I won’t keep you.”

“Jesus, Indy. Chill.” you tell him, melting into a condescending laugh. “You’re so wired.” Your insults are to mask how your chest jumped at the thought that he likes having you around.

It’s an idea you ride all the way into calling him for a hook up that night. It’s not hanging out after work, it’s fucking in his car. Neither of you got the chance to hop into the backseat, straddling his lap in the reclined driver’s instead. His tongue in your mouth smooths over your own, coaxing it to play as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. His septum piercing bumps the bulb of your nose, making for a clumsy make-out session when you try to avoid it—he doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, the noises in the back of his throat grow in volume the sloppier it is.

Your hands run through his hair, tugging on the locks every time he does something you like. It’s a good reward system, he’s a quick learner, and the longer you kiss the dizzier you become.

When it breaks for air, he murmurs against your lips, “Can’t wait to see what you feel like.” Electricity runs up your spine, giving you that push to free your swollen sex. You’re so close to him you recycle breath, stray pecks punctuating your excitement as you raise yourself so he can unbuckle his belt and dip the waistband below his dick. Hard and long, it lulls out and onto his happy trail. The condom rolls on, and he palms your flexed ass to help you situate onto him. “Knew you liked me.” With his smug grin, the subtlest dimples dent into his features, and you fight the urge to hit him again.

“Shut up, Indy.” you hiss, eager to push onto him. His other hand is gripped around his base, lining himself up with you. Your knees bend until you feel his head nudge against your slit.

Bracing yourself onto the seat behind him, you fix your eyes where your sexes join, while Indy keeps his gaze on you. “Asking me for help all the time, gotta explain the same shit to you over ‘n’ over again. Letting me take the mean customers. Looking up at me with those fuck-me eyes every time I did. You’re so easy.”

“Indy-y-y!” you whine, trying to force yourself down but he stays just out of reach, letting you bounce helplessly on his tip. “Just put it all in!” You’re wet, and aching. The soreness only exacerbating by the lack of massage, the promise of what’s to come wrestled out of your hands by your coworker.

“Nah, I’ve been waiting for this.” he breathes, and you can tell this is hard for him, too. Exhale is labored and a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. “Gonna savor it.”

[ddejavvu]

anakin kissing gum outta your mouth

oh indy i'm so glad you talk to me about gross!anakin cause he's my fav <3

--

yeah he does kiss gum out of your mouth. the first time he does it you are appalled. he grabs your jaw and leans in and you tuck it into the side of your cheek so that you can kiss him semi-properly but he jams his tongue rather unceremoniously into your mouth to fish it out. It's gross and spitty and drooly and wet, it's probably the sloppiest kiss you've ever gotten, but when he curls his tongue over it and sucks it into his own mouth you feel a fucking shiver up your spine. I'm talking one that tightens up your shoulders. Electric.

let me tell you he is delighted by how indignant/horrified you are. the more you huff and puff about how that was disgusting, how that was your gum with your spit on it, the wider his grin grows, wolfish and satisfied. it's an open-mouthed grin that perfectly showcases the gum he's still chewing on, and he grabs you around the waist when you try getting up to get another stick.

He'll take turns with you, but only because he gets to pinch your cheeks all hollowed and then spit the gum into your mouth. he gets a real nice view of your mouth open and ready for him, and depending on where he's put his massive hands, he can feel your pulse racing every time he manhandles your face. he might give you an extra glob of spit along with the gum but he wants you to let it pool around your mouth while you chew on the gum and mix it with your own spit, not waste it by swallowing it all

[blue-armadillo]

hit me with your killshot, baby!

THUD.

He shoves you onto the bed in one swift motion - it's almost like you're getting manhandled by his big, calloused hands and burly arms.

You like it.

You're so wet that it's almost embarrassing. You feel his warm breath caress your neck, soothing the angry red marks that he left all over your collarbone. His long, curly hair sweep your forehead and you roll your head back, yearning for more like a fucking cat in heat.

Your panties are a greasy mess. You didn't think that you could grow wetter, but you have, and your pussy juices ooze out of the lacy elastic, spilling frantically down your thighs, creating a pathetic pool on the carpet down below.

The weight of his large body pushes your further into the bed - you have to use the force of your fingers to keep you from getting fully crushed beneath him.

He lets out a growl, deep and starved, and rips off the thin fabric sheathing your dripping pussy. Blood rushes towards your face, making you more flushed than you already are.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him devouring the sight of your wet heat with his dark, dangerous stare. He licks his lips and literally groans. A pained and strangled groan, like he'd been waiting to do this since the first time he saw you on that bus with your little skirt, seated next to the window, silently grinding your cunt on the edge of the seat.

You just couldn't help it. He was right there, sitting next to you, his dark curls shielding his eyes and the way he was staring right at you. You didn't think he would notice but he just made you so wet that you had to do something about it. So you rode your seat on that bus, the friction against your clit so sinfully good, and the thoughts of him letting you ride his face in that bus then and there even better. You didn't think he would catch the sight of your face contorting in torturous pleasure, but he did. And when you came all over that seat, you couldn't help but whimper and frantically bite your lip in hopes of concealing the wet noises sounding from your needy pussy.

But then from the corner of your eye, you saw the dark outline of his massive cock straining against his Levi's jeans. And you made the mistake of looking up at him. Which is how you ended up in the position that you were now in.

The room is dark, the air filled with the scents of your combined arousal. He doesn't waste a second. With a single thrust, he shoves his entire cock into your throbbing pussy. The lewd squelch that accompanies this motion is utterly sinful. Your pussy juices engulf his entire length, and the rest of it dribbles down his thighs, like a sprightly stream rushing to join the ocean of liquid down below.

You moan, loud and deep. His cock is too big. He fills you up completely, your walls clenching and aching around him. It's like his length is threatening to tear you apart, and you swear you could feel it in your stomach.

"Fuck, babydoll. You're too fuckin' tight. Ngh, strangling me already, eh?"

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head backward.

"Now, listen up, you slut. I'm gonna fuck this tight little pussy of yours. Then, I'm gonna cum in this pussy. And you're gonna what?" A harsh smack lands on your ass, sending waves of heat, pain, and pleasure coursing through your skin.

"Say it. You're. Gonna. What?"

Smack.

You moan, loud and needy, struggling to find your words because of his fat cock making your brain all dumb and non-functional.

"I- I'm gonna-"

"Fuckin' say it, doll."

Smack.

"I- I'm gonna c-cum all over your c-" SMACK. "Your cock, ahn, f-fuck."

"Good girl." He says through gritted teeth.

Another smack lands on your ass, painting it red.

He grips your thighs - his fingers digging into your skin - and throws them around his waist.

Without wasting another second, he thrusts into you, harder this time. The pressure and the tightness makes you drool, your eyes seeing spots dance before you.

He takes on a menacing rhythm, pumping his thick girth into you without mercy. Your mouth contorts into a lewd 'O', your heart beating faster and faster. The pleasure is so overstimulating for a hot second that you fail to produce any sound and just grip the sheets tighter and tighter. Your knuckles are dangerously white as you desperately latch onto the now displaced duvet below you.

The sounds that fill the dark, dusky room are obscene. Skin slapping skin ferociously, loud grunts and even louder moans. The bed rattles and shakes, threatening to break below the weight of your combined bodies. His hard chest is pressed down against your arched back. If you arch any further, you could literally break like a delicate twig.

His grip on your waist doesn't relent, as he keeps pumping his fat cock into you. It's desperation fuelled with uninhibited, animalistic desire. You let out a sharp, high-pitched whimper as his tip kisses you cervix. He manages to find that sweet spot and ruthlessly attacks it with his now twitching dick. The wet, obscene squelches are overpowered by your loud, disastrous moans.

Smack. Again.

"You're so loud for me, babydoll. Look at you, drooling all over my bed like a nasty, fuckin' slut. So hungry for this cock, huh? You're f-fuckin' eatin' me up, darling. Hngh. Oh f-FUCK."

The knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, threatening to break open at any second now. He's already fucked the brains out of you, and you're desperately chasing your high, arching your back even further, pushing back haphazardly to meet his cock where he thrusts into you even harder.

Your fuzzy brain makes it difficult for you to form words.

"I-I'm gonna c-cum. Ah! Yes, FUCK, yes, right there, oh my g-GOSH. Fuck m-me. Fuck me, p-please."

You continue to babble incoherently, tears spilling out of your doe eyes, running down your flushed cheeks. Some of your tears fall into your open mouth, and the salty liquid makes you grow even more frantic.

Your lips are now burning - burning because you bit them too hard on the bus when you were fucking yourself. Getting yourself off on the thought of this very situation.

"Yeah? You're gonna cum for me? Come on this cock then. Show me what that pussy can do."

His words are enough to spur you on, and you erupt like a volcano onto his throbbing cock. Your squirt fountains out of you, landing onto his face and the bedsheets beneath you.

He groans, devouring the taste that your sweet little pussy has to offer.

"Oh, fuck. Look at the mess you made. Such a nasty bitch. This is what you'd been begging for right?"

He's fucking you through your high, unwilling to stop any time soon. The overstimulation is too much. And the angle that you're in - your face pressed against the bed with your ass in the air and thighs around his defined waist - only makes it so much worse.

So much better.

"You thought I couldn't see you? Couldn't fucking hear you? When you were riding the fucking seat next to mine like a horny little slut? This is what you'd been thinking about?"

Your hair is a mess on the bedsheets. Your tears won't stop spilling out, just like the drool that continually dribbles down your chin.

"F-fuck. Ahn- I- Yes, oh FUCK, I wanted you to f-fuck me s-so bad."

"Yeah? Is that so? Want me to fill you up? Want me to fill this pretty pussy up with my cum?"

You try to nod, but your head is pressed tightly up against the mattress. You barely manage to mumble a small 'yes' through your loud moans and high-pitched whimpers.

Smack.

You didn't think he could hit your ass harder, but he did.

"Louder. I want to hear you beg for it, love."

Smack.

The bed creaks, the legs of the frame shaking. They could very much give out any second.

"I- I want your cum in me, p-please. Been thinking about it e-ever since you entered that bus and s-sat next to m-me. Wanted to be f-fucked by your co-AHN-cock."

He rolls his head back, riding you like a fucking horse now. He takes on a ruthless pace, fucking everything out of you. Your legs shake furiously, and you turn into a vibrating mess. He grips your hair tighter and kisses your neck, attempting to soothe the burning marks he left on them not too long ago.

With a strangled groan, he releases his load into you. And, oh goodness. There is SO much cum. You feel the thick ropes of cum collect in your pussy. And there is just so much of it that it spills down onto the duvet, too. Some of it also spills down your thighs.

With a sweeping motion, he takes some of it onto his index finger and brings it to your mouth.

"Suck."

You're very happy to oblige, and you start sucking his finger like your life depends on it. You start sucking his finger as if it's his beautiful cock that just fucked the brains out of you.

"Good girl. Happily taking what you fucking deserve."

As you're still sucking his finger, he gives a sudden smack to your glistening clit, and you bite onto his finger because the jolt of painful pleasure makes your nerve endings combust into flames.

He hisses in pain, and chuckles to himself. You don't need to turn around to know that his pretty lips are contorted into a smirk.

As you're still sucking his finger, dazed in the afterglow, he flips you over like you weigh nothing, slamming you onto the bed that's now greasy with your combined bodily fluids.

"I'm not fucking done with you."

He splits your legs open, fitting his broad and muscular frame in between your thighs. Your legs are already so wide open, but he fucking separates them even more until your pussy lips are fully spread open.

He licks his lips and something dark stirs in his eyes.

Oh he really isn't fucking done with you.

[rottingcherub-txt]

pornography

warning: descriptions of sex, gore, cannibalism, pornography, snuff filming

I looked at him through long, mascara-clumpy lashes, my glossy lips pulling into a sensual smile while his fingers eagerly slipped beneath my clothing and peeled fabric from skin. He looked at me with hunger in his eyes, a greedy grin pulling at his lips as he told me that I was “so sexy”. I was hungry too. My mouth salivating with desire; my eyes glittering with lust. I ran my fingers through his short, choppy hair and let him dive his hand into my pants without so much as a second thought.

I felt his lips against my neck, his hands pulling off my clothes while I pulled off his. He was rough and biting, manhandling me onto the bed where cameras and lights all made the place look so aesthetically pleasing. Every angle covered, ready to capture every thrust, every moan, every bit of debauchery between the two of us. My body was oiled, so was his. His body was taut with arousal. Mine was not. I was beautifully relaxed and languid. I younger me would have cried in fear of what's to come.

“You should let me on top, it would make for a good shot.” I murmured, rolling over to straddle his hips where his erection met my core. I hardly gave him a choice in the matter as I sank down and penetrated myself on him and watched his face twisted with pleasure. I was desensitized to the whole thing. Bodies were just slabs of meat on a bed and to make it look like anything but in front of a camera was all cosmetics. The way a farmer puts a prized pig on show before sending it off to the butcher.

He took his pleasure in me, making sure to look at the camera for the perfect shot. I tossed my hair over my shoulder. I giggled on cue. I squealed and I moaned and I cried because even my tears were for the camera. I was Lolita and this was Humbert Humbert’s sick, fetishtic fantasy. I was delectable, tender meat for the viewer to consume.

I leaned down and kissed my co-star's neck. First innocent pecks, then open mouth kisses. He moaned when I bit him. He screamed when my teeth sank in and I ripped out a chunk of his neck. I pulled away — chewing — a piece of muscle stretching then snapping away while blood dripped down my chin and covered my face. He tried to cover the wound where blood spilled rapidly, then he tried to get me off of him. I grabbed his wrist and seductively slipped one of his fingers into my mouth. I bit his ring finger off like one bites a carrot in half. He screamed again, heaving. His eyes were wild with fear, he opened his mouth to scream again but the blood from his wound was gurgling in his throat.

Crimson dripped down my front, blood curving at the cups of my breasts, tracing the contours of my body. It was warm and it was beautiful. I watched his soul leave his body as I kissed his lips, bit the bottom one, and pulled it off of his face with my teeth. His lower teeth and some of his jaw was exposed as I chewed and savored the metallic taste of his blood. The meat itself was rubbery.

I turned back to look over my shoulder and smiled at the camera. The thing is, pornography is just a snuff film for the soul.

[jesuistrestriste]

would ever write some sub patrick too?

absolutely, i just need to come up with some fic/drabble concepts for him. maybe i could expand upon the challengers x detroit become human (android) au that ive been doing with art and crank out an android!patrick piece..

all i know is that patrick, to me, is a huge brat. he does not submit easily (as art does) and prefers to be pushed/teased into his submission. ie he wants to wrestle for the control.. ie he wants to be put in his place.

[onyx-va]

Throws ROTTMNT one shot into the crowd

Purple's Favourite Turtle