#posted this to the wrong blog

[hiddenvioletsgrow]

girls when royce and gwen

[baycitystygian]

somebody revoke my new wave/synthpop connoisseur badge, I just mixed up Men Without Hats and Men At Work

[bearrverine]

me and gang at the haunted house

[morcegoz]

LUCIFER study x

[dreamingteen]

[raredrop]

[kyofloral]

[catcrumb]

[mischievous-thunder]

Why you need to double-check before posting something:

P.S. The rebloggers:

[spacedouterri]

Its like you ruined the sky for me

Everywhere I look

I am reminded of

You

You

You

[pinkwitchcult]

Marina if she was in the dungeons of fear and hunger (of fear and hunger fame)

[clownowo]

been replaying the Portal series I think this is where its heading

[dvchvnde]

He doesn't bother cleaning up before he goes home.

Caked in grime, sweat, dust from the fields, crudeoil glued under his nails—a walking biohazard of filth, but he lumbers into his truck the moment he's finished, cock already thickening, straining against the harsh fabric of his jeans. Sticky on his thigh where it lays, twitching at the thought of his little birdie sucking his dirty fingers clean.

And you'll do it. He knows you will.

You've been so good for him, haven't you? Sweet little thing.

He scrapes the top of his tongue against his teeth, pulling up the taste of stale, bitter coffee. It's acrid, sour in his mouth. Swallowing around it, he grips the wheel tight and sifts through the multitude of things he wants to do to you as he navigates the familiar path home. Muscle memory, but there's an emptiness in his belly. An itch under his skin. If fizzles, cracks; want and desire thick in his throat.

He's been thinking about this all day. You—laid out on his bed, fingers gripping the sheets tight as he folds you in half, kneecaps to your ears. Feet kicking out behind the heft of his shoulder. Bearing all his weight down on you. Crushing you.

Pumping you so full of his cock, his cum, that you whine afterwards—too empty, Mr Riley—and he has to stuff you full again just to shut you up.

Whiny little thing, he'll coo, nasty and mean as he fucks you again and again and again—

Another scrape. Tongue against teeth pulling over tastebuds. Sourness in the back of his throat. So bitter, so nauseating, he can't wait to make you swallow it down and beg for more as you try not to dry heave all over his dirty boots and onto the clean floor.

More, please, more even as you gag.

He's too hyperaware for the drive to pass in a blur—it's all startling present, each second ticking down in technicolour—but when he finally slows to crawl in front of his house, he has everything he wants to do to you laid out in a neat, concise list. Left you a defiled mess in his head, leaking cum and begging for more.

Anticipation is a maw in his gut that growls and snaps its jaws, too eager to sink inside the pretty thing that's been playing House in his mind. In his home.

He left it unfed for too long.

And now, it's time to eat.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

alternate apocalypse ending or something who the hcrist knows anymore

[sleepis4theweak]

Inspired by my mom pulling the emergency call cord in the hospital because I got the hiccups when I was like a day old.

[gongyussy]

happy year of the dragon from this guy…