Latest Posts by death-sama123 - Page 2

original: here

best part of the night

karaoke night

hello! first of all I ADORE your tlb content! would you be so kind and do poly angst with reader who comes from abusive household and it takes one wrong move from the boys for them to lose her trust (maybe they say something nasty but don't actually mean it but it's enough for her to distance herself from them). need to escape reality rn and tlb is the way to go, love ya :3

Protective Boys

A/N: I hope this brings you some comfort. Lots of love to you ❤️ Anytime you need an escape from reality I’m happy to help.

You were relaxing in the cave, not really paying attention to anything, when Paul shoved Marko into David and David started yelling. Luckily, you’d been cuddling with Dwayne at the time, who didn’t get involved in this stuff, so you just curled further into him, trying to block out the other boys.

You hate yelling.

Marko blamed Paul and Paul blamed Marko. David was furious, and then Marko hit Paul.

“Hey!” You scold. “Don’t hit each other.”

“Shut up, Y/N, what are you, our mom?”

You tense.

“Marko,” Dwayne growled. “Your fighting is upsetting her. Everyone needs to calm down.”

“Don’t be such a fucking pussy,” Marko snarled at you. David nodded, side-eyeing you with irritation for your stepping in. Great, here it was happening again. The fighting party would come to make up over targeting you instead.

You gently push away from Dwayne, standing up with your jaw locked.

You try to storm past Marko but he roughly grabs your arm. Instinctively, your free arm flies up to cover your head.

He lets go like your skin burned him, and suddenly the cave is too quiet. You’re shaking from the stress of the abusive language, and slowly uncover your head.

Everyone is looking at you with concern, and Marko looks incredibly guilty.

“What the hell was that?” David asks, never one to be gentle.

Dwayne glares at him.

“You-You didn’t think I’d hit you, did you?” Marko asks.

You shrug, embarrassed. “You were really angry.”

He takes a few steps back.

“He’d never hit you, girl,” Paul says quietly. “None of us would.” “I’m sorry,” Marko says, looking utterly disgusted with himself. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, or grabbed you like that.”

Dwayne, ever intuitive, is the one to ask, “Y/N, did something happen? With your friends or… at home?”

“Nothing,” you mutter.

“Well that wasn’t fucking nothing,” David snapped.

“All of you, stay away from me. Leave me alone!”

You made a break for the mouth of the cave, and when they tried to stop you, you screamed and kicked until they backed off in shock, and you were able to scramble out of the sunken hotel and race up the rickety stairs.

You could hear them fly after you.

You ran past their bikes, and heard four sets of feet hit the ground as they landed to continue after you on foot.

“Y/N! Y/N, come on, come back!”

“Fuck off!” You threw them the middle finger without looking at them to emphasize your point.

Suddenly, Dwayne was right behind you, reaching out, and you shrieked, your nerves having already been shot for the night. He backed off immediately. Your hands were shaking as you finally turned to them. “I’m so fucking serious, leave me alone.”

And you ran.

All the adrenaline coursing through your veins left virtually no other option. You needed to release it somehow.

You ran all the way from the bluff to the boardwalk, where you finally allowed your lungs room to breathe. The boardwalk was empty by now, so despite slowing to a walk, you kept your pace swift to get home before you got kidnapped or something.

Not that you knew this, but you didn’t have to worry.

Thirty feet above you, your boys hovered in the air, making sure you’d get home unharmed.

You did get home unharmed, but once you were in your house, they couldn’t police what happened next.

When you got to your house, you scaled the side of it, desperate to avoid any detection. You didn’t want them to know you’d left, or were returning. You thought it went well, slipping through your own bedroom window without a sound.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, and went to open your closet when a cold voice had a horrified chill settling deep in your bones.

“How nice of you to come back.”

“Mom… please,” you whisper.

On the roof, the boys exchange glances.

“So where were you? Whoring yourself out to half the town?”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“No-“ “Or maybe just the local biker gang.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Wh- no.”

“Yeah. I heard people have been seeing you around with them. Want to explain that to your father?”

You can feel the blood drain from your face.

“No, please, he doesn’t need to know- ow!”

She’d grabbed your arm, ugly acrylic nails digging into flesh and tears began to flow as she yelled for your father while dragging you down the stairs.

David, Paul, Marko, and Dwayne all move to the living room window.

When your father comes downstairs, you’re eyeing the door, weighing the risks and rewards of attempting escape. All thoughts were dashed when your mother opened her mouth.

“Your whore child has been running around with the local biker gang.”

A vase smashed against the wall, right next to your head and you flinch.

“Are you fucking serious? I’m woken up at three in the fucking morning for this bullshit? To find out you’re a slut? What else is new?”

He crosses the room and your back hits the wall.

“I should have never had you,” your mother mutters.

“Do you know what kind of name you’re giving this family!?” Your father screams in your face.

You sob, but the front door is suddenly flung open when your boys have seen enough.

David walks right up to your father, Marko to your mother, and Paul and Dwayne stand in front of you like a barrier.

David says nothing to your father, just stares him down, while your father stares back at the intruder in shock.

“Who the fuck are you!?” Your mother shrieks.

Marko spits at her feet, and David simultaneously shoves your father to the floor.

Before any fallout from their actions can occur, Dwayne is throwing you over his shoulder and the five of you are hauling ass out of the house.

Dwayne readjusts you so he can hold you bridal style, a better position for flying. Then you’re in the sky.

The flight home, your real home, is silent.

When you all finally get back to the cave, Dwayne puts you down, only for you to be swept up immediately into Paul’s arms. He sits on the couch, holding you like someone’s about to steal you away.

Marko sits down in a corner, chewing on his glove with anger twisting his features.

David’s hands were clasped behind his back as he paced the cave rather violently.

You were still for once, the events of the night having drained all your energy. You couldn’t even cry anymore. Paul kissed the top of your head, rocking you gently.

“We’ll kill them tomorrow night,” David announces suddenly, seemingly having come to a conclusion. “There’s not enough time between now and daylight.”

“Kill them?” You ask.

“Is that a problem?” Dwayne asks quietly.

“…No.”

You sleep in the nest of mattresses and blankets on the floor of the back cavern that had been made for you and Laddie after the Emerson incident.

Marko sleeps with you tonight, holding you and whispering apologies until you fall asleep.

You wake up to Laddie shaking you lightly, asking if you’ll take him to go get food on the boardwalk. Marko isn’t in the nest and the other boys aren’t in the rafters.

“What time is it?” You ask Laddie, who pulls out the pocket watch Marko had stolen for him a couple months ago.

“Um… eleven something.”

Laddie could read the basics of the clock.

“Thanks bud,” you groan, rolling over. “Yeah, we can go get some grub. Gimme a second.”

You get up and change out of the clothes you slept in, but you’re too tired to put effort into your appearance, so you tug on a sweatshirt and some bike shorts. Grabbing Laddie’s hand, you lead him out of the cave, casually asking if he knew where everyone had gone.

He didn’t. He’d awoken to the sound of them leaving around half past nine, but hadn’t been able to get through the tunnel fast enough to ask them where they were going.

You had a pretty good idea of where they’d gone.

You didn’t really want to think about it, so after getting Laddie his food, you treated him to some carnival games and rides. But the rides closed at one in the morning, and the boardwalk at one-thirty. So you hoped the boys would show up by some saving grace, because they weren’t the only thing that made Santa Carla dangerous.

You and Laddie were basically magnets for trouble being out here so late without them.

Your unspoken pleas were answered when the roar of their motorcycles came into earshot. Laddie clung to your leg.

They were surrounding you two not a moment later, and nothing felt more comforting. You smile at David, who looks mischievously pleased with himself. “Good night?” You ask with a knowing lilt to your tone.

“Fantastic,” he smirks, wiping a smear of blood on his cheek.

Dwayne helps Laddie onto the back of his bike, and Paul offers you his hand. When it comes to who you ride with, it’s typically first come first serve, so you climb on with him.

The ride home is quiet but the silence is comfortable. Laddie is drooping against Dwayne’s back, clearly tired. You’ll be putting him to bed as soon as you all get back.

When you do get back, you’re surprised to find all of your belongings stacked near the entrance of the cave.

You turn to David.

“Sorry, we didn’t have time to put anything away. We didn’t want you two out alone any longer.”

What they did that night is never spoken, but you’ve officially moved in.

The Lost Boys Playlists Series: Playlist 1, David x Michael

The following is a well thought out playlist for what I think the relationship of David and Michael sounds like. Every song is fitting to their relationship in one way or another. This is the first playlist in my upcoming series of The Lost Boys playlists.

GRRGGRGRFGRGRRGHSJSJSJSB!!!! YEAH!!!

Legs

It's beautiful 😍Little David holding dad Max's hand 😍😍😍

Anatolian shepherd dog puppy in training

Vape Tricks

Where’s that hand going, sir? 🧐 

Swiss Gets Low

They so cute <3

forever thinking about this moment

Aether: THICC

Dancing Cumulus compilation‼ She's adorable 😫💞

bless whoever threw the goat plushie on stage

bisexual rat pope is bisexual

some Eva-ish Ghost-ish short

I really didn't make anything good this year

please at least let me get a ghost merch this Christmas

I think this relevant content for all vampire fandoms...

True to be told, my fav is the messy 80s vampire 😂 I regret nothing

Kinktober 2021

Hey fam! It’s that time again! 

And after looking at several prompt lists, I decided to just smush them all together and do a random generation. For my own sanity, I’m going to try to keep day to about 500 words. 😅 

2020

Day 1: Roleplay – Papa III X Reader

.

Keep reading

Something bad happens and Copia’s plans are ruined. He’s so pissed off he can barely control himself. You offer he can take the anger out on you. Hate-fucking ensues

Delightful prompt, nonny. 🔥 

*hate sex; angry sex; rough sex; spitting; penetration*

Even if you hadn’t heard the stage whispers around the Abbey today, Copia banging around his office would be warning enough that he’s in A Mood.

You eke open the door to find papers strewn about his desk, books sprawled out like drunks on the floor, and his chair upturned. 

The man himself is hunched over himself the sofa, his back heaving in rage.

“Papa?” you ask softly.

Copia freezes, then turns to you, smoothing down his ruffled hair before clearing his throat.

“Ah, amore. Perhaps not now, yes?”

You pick your way carefully through the detritus, as his eyes track your form the entire way. Even when you take his hand to kiss his knuckles, Copia’s body is still a taut wire, ready to snap.

“I am no good being around at the moment, amore.”

But you are not a fair-weather partner. You know some of Copia’s past lovers were in it for the favors or the infamy…but you’re here for all his moods.

“You’re angry about the—”

“Ai! Do not even speak it,” he hisses through cleaned teeth as his white eye flashes.

You touch his face to smooth away the anger, but—while he doesn’t flinch away—the sour look remains.

“Let me help, Papa.” You kiss his nose. “My Papa.”

He grumbles, but allows it.

“Oh? And how would you be doing that?”

You’re already tugging off your habit.

“You can use me to fuck it out.” 

Copia goes as still as a predator observing his prey, even as his eyes take in the snatches of revealed flesh. 

“Your personal stress reliever.”

You toss the habit to the side, now clad only in your underwear.

When you meet his eyes, he rolls his hand at you.

“Continuare.”

You reach for your bottoms, but Copia growls low in his throat and stalks over to you. He fists the fabric and jerks you into the line of his body.

“I have your permission to use you as I see fit?”

You press yourself into him and nip lightly at his throat.

“Yes, Papa. Use me hard.”

“Bene,” he rumbles.

And then he’s rending the cotton in two.

You gasp, but he’s already biting into your neck and raking his blunt nails hard down your skin. His one hand travels up to grip into the roots of your hair before he’s yanking your head back with a harsh jerk.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, and then he spits in your face.

He’s pushing your head back painfully as he smears it into your skin before shoving his fingers harshly into your throat.

“Your dare,” he hisses as you try not to gag. “I will show you who is in charge here. Who is Papa.”

His nails scrape your scalp as he digs his fingers into the hair at the top of your skull.

“On your knees,” he growls. It’s a command, but he’s pushing you down before you have a chance to comply.

Free from his fingers, you cough and wipe the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. When you look up, Copia’s face is twisted in hate as fumbles to undo his pants. You barely have time to admire the flush and fill of his hard cock before he’s ramming it down your throat, a hand at the back of your head to keep you in place.

“You will take it whether you like it or not.”

(You like it.)

He shoves it down as far as you can take it—and then some—and you choke and wheeze as you try to breathe through your nose. He grunts as his hips twitch into your mouth, his curls rubbing against your nose.

Your eyes are streaming, and you don’t think you can last much longer, so you tap at his thighs. He yanks you off his cock in a mess of spit and mucus, and you double over as you suck in air.

“You can dish it out but not take it, eh?”

When you lift your face to his, his expression is smooth—but his nose and lips twitch with restrained anger. One pointed boot comes up to push your flat with a press to your forehead. It smears down your face to press at the hollow of your throat.

“Are you chosen by the Olde One?”

You shake your head as much as you’re able.

“Are you anointed by our Dark Lord?”

Another shake, and he leans down, resting his arm on his thigh.

“Do you think I have this eye for shits and giggles, eh?”

He points at his blazing eye, and all you can do is stare at the fire in it.

“If you don’t know it, I will make you know it,” he hisses through clenched teeth at you.

Your body responds with a heated desire, and you wonder if he registers the flush of your skin.

Copia makes a growl low in his throat, and suddenly you’re being manhandled up and onto his lap.

“You will feel it when I fuck the sense into you.”

The first crack of his palm on your ass has you letting out a startled gasp. It’s followed quickly with another smack. And another.

And another.

He’s raining down open-palmed smacks on your bare flesh, and you’re letting out little hitched breaths while squirming in his lap at the stinging sensation blooming across your ass. Despite the sting, you’re leaking, and while your reflex is to jerk away from him, all you want is more.

“Oh, Papa!” you cry.

He mistakes your cry for one of mercy, and he rumbles as his hands grab at your burning flesh.

“Had enough, eh?”

Your response is to moan and press into his lap. His hand winds into your hair to yank your head back again.

“I’ll show you enough,” he breathes into your ear.

Copia slips out from under you, and you rub into his couch, leaving the evidence of your arousal over the soft leather.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” you groan because it seems like the correct thing to say.

(You're not sorry. Not at all. Copia can come get it.)

“Oh, I’ll show you ‘sorry’,” he snarls, and then he’s grasping you here and there to bend you over the back of the couch. When he kicks your knees apart with his own, you go easily, practically wiggling your ass at him.

You know he’ll like what he sees—even if you weren’t getting it from Copia on the reg, you love to play with your toys (and you love to play with Copia and your toys), so you’re open and ready for him.

Lube might still be seeping out of you from some earlier play.

When his blunt teeth sink into your raw ass, you do yelp, and that only encourages him to continue his bitey journey across each cheek. His hand comes up to fondle you as you jerk and gasp. The pain from his bites is only enhanced by the pleasure his hand elicits, and you pound your fist into the couch.

“Papa, please…”

His tongue slips across your throbbing skin—no doubt tracing the outline of his teeth—before the heat of him recedes. You don’t even have time to look over your shoulder before you feel the rasp of his pants and the bite of his zipper against your ass. Your back arches toward him, but his warm hand at the small of your back presses you forward.

“Now, for some correction.”

His fingers trail down your skin to your hole; there’s a slight pressure, and then a wet splatter when Copia spits. Moaning at the sensation of his fingers in you, you ooze forward more…and when he hits your sweet spot, you drool onto the leather.

Copia’s nails scrape across your heated flesh, and you gasp out an Oh.

“Mm…sí. You will feel every,” he rumbles low in his Mummy Dust register, “thrust.”

And then his lips are back to tickle your ear.

“And I want to think about what you did with every,” he presses into your sweet spot and you gasp. 

“Single.” Press.

“One…”

Press.

“PAPA!”

He replaces the pressure of his fingers with the press of his cockhead, and then he’s pushing into you roughly.

“Papa what?” he growls as his hips snap into you and as his hand yanks your head once again back by the hair.

“I’m sorry, Papa! I’m sorry!”

You feel him acutely every time his hips slap into your stinging ass and the material of his pants rub against your sore spots; you throb between your legs with his every hard thrust into you.

Spreading your knees even further to accommodate the drill of his cock only has him snarling with more feral energy. The hand in your hair slips down to clasp at your throat, and his body drapes across your back as he fucks harder, faster, into your supple, willing body.

“I don’t fucking care,” he rasps, and then he’s pounding into you like he’s a fuck machine set to high, his hand shifting up to your face so he can shove his fingers back in your mouth. You moan and gasp around his fingers—the only other thing you can do besides just taking him. 

At some point, he pulls out so he can rearrange you face down, legs together on the couch, but you submit languidly. He boxes you in with his arms and the pressure of his chest on your back as his cock treats you like his very own fleshlight.

“Take it…fucking take it, you stronza,” he wheezes into your ear as he presses your face down hard into the cushions.

You throb again, clenching around him, and he snarls, sitting up.

“This is not for you.”

When he pulls out, you whine at the loss, but then his hand is pushing at the nape of your neck, making sure you’re muffled by the couch.

You can hear the sound of skin on skin, and you groan right before the splatter of Copia’s cum hits across your back and ass; you jolt in surprise when he shoves his cockhead into you again. And then out.

And then in.

“Fuck you. Fuck you…fuck you…” he chants.

By the time he tumbles down on you panting at his release, you’re panting at your unsatisfied arousal. You let him catch his breath for a few beats before you speak.

“Papa?”

His hand comes up to clumsily pet at you.

“So good. So good for me, amore. Grazie.”

You wiggle around so that your front is pressing into his, and you apply little kisses to his collarbone as you grind into his leg.

“Papa…” you plead.

His hand strokes your hair. “Sí. Sí, amore.”

And then your eyes roll back as he goes about thanking you.

Fucking one of the ghouls is like a reverse exorcism. You don't want the demon to be out of your body but want them come inside you (:

I adore whatever possessed you to send this ask, dear anon. ;)

*rough sex; vaginal penetration; cunnilingus/fingering; knotting; lots of cum*

It was your first day off in what felt like weeks. There was the influx of new Initiates following that Goore creature’s latest announcement (and hadn’t Imperator been livid he’d done so before Papa IV’s long-awaited—and unprecedented—second album), plus the plans for the autumnal equinox bacchanal were a clusterfuck, and then the whole mishap with the dorms for newly minted Siblings.

There were late nights and early morning—and late nights that turned into early mornings—and at some point you’d just started sleeping in the armchair in the tiny office that was yours. You were eating breakfast at 8pm and dinner at 4am, and at one point you just went outside and used a garden hose to rinse yourself off before getting back into it.

When your assistant had rolled in with her shadows and trundled you off to your room, you’d been irate…but after an actual shower, fresh clothes, and a solid 3hrs of sleep, you’ve come to see the sense in her actions.

You’re still antsy—still full of that anxious energy—and you haven’t seen your Ghoul since the madness started. As you rub your hand between your legs, you realize you know just how you can burn off that excess.

It’s a good thing the two of you have got going—both of you have high-pressure positions within the admin at the Abbey and with Sister Imperator being a micromanager, not a lot of wiggle room for delays or mistakes. A romp in the sheets multiple times a week with no expectations of dinners or dates is exactly what the both of you need to work hard and fuck harder.

And a good, hard fuck is just what you need right now.

You put on a cheap set of lingerie (he likes to rip it off you and you like to be cost effective), dab a bit of Santal 33 on your pressure points and between your breasts, and make your way down to the Ghoul dorms. 

Your heart beats with excited anticipation and your blood quickens with lust the closer you get.

No doubt all the Ghouls can smell it on you as you get a few lascivious winks and howls from the Ghouls and Ghoulehs you pass. But you just toss your hair, do a little twirl, and wink right back.

“I know,” you purr as you continue on your way.

You’re not 3 doors away when the door of his room slams open. His eyes glow low, and his chest heaves—but he makes no move to chase you. He simply tracks your movements as you grow closer, swinging your hips the whole way.

He stiffens as you purposefully brush against him when you slink into his room, and you hum out an Mmm, letting your fingers linger as they trail across his chest. You can feel more than hear the rumble that starts low there.

As soon as you’re in, he slams the door shut and locks it.

“Been too long,” he growls as he pushes his hard bulge into you.

“Has it? I hadn’t noticed,” you tease as you go easily into his touch; his one hand pulls you flush into the heat of him while the claws of the other sink into your hair to reveal your neck to him.

He licks at your pulse point. “Can smell you,” he counters, and then his other hand is pressing in between your legs. “Can feel you,” he pants into your ear.

You cover his hand with yours and show him how you want it as he nips at your delicate skin and sucks bruises into your neck. His cock ruts against your ass in time to your movements, and you suddenly want it in you like, last week.

He rumbles when he smells the spike in your arousal, and you let out an Ah when his hand comes up to tweak at your nipples.

“What do you want?” he asks as his hot breath tickles your ear.

You reach an arm back to sneak a hand up the back of his mask to scritch at the bottom of his horns, and he bites your earlobe.

“I want you to fill me up in more ways than one, Ghoul; I want you to possess my body in the name of the Olde One.”

He snarls and practically vibrates against you.

“The Dark Lord loves a willing body…I will claim you in his name as many times as you desire, Little Human.”

You turn and grab the obscene outline in his pants, and he hisses, his claws digging into your arms through your habit.

“I have the whole night off.”

His mouth finds yours in a crash of spit and teeth, and his hands tug at your habit. Even though you’d love to unzip those tight pants of his, you know if you don’t disrobe yourself, he’ll do it for you—and your habit isn’t cheap.

He still plucks at you as you pull away, but you still manage to get the habit over your head in one piece. Even expecting it, you still gasp when his strong hands tear first your panties and then your bra before you’ve managed to pull your head free from your garments.

And then his hot mouth is sucking on your nipples while his tail slips into your slit.

You let out an “Oh shit,” and you feel him fumble with his pants, and you have half a second to marvel at his coordination before he picks you up by the waist and tosses you onto his nest.

When you land, it’s with a bounce onto your stomach before he pulls you to the edge of the bed. His fangs scrape against your ass enough to sting deliciously and his teeth bite into you hard enough to bruise, but not break the skin. He slaps your ass for good measure before rolling you over by your thighs. 

Giving you a toothy grin, he says, “And let you feel the tongue of Satan’s,” before his forked tongue lolls out and wiggles into your entrance.

“ƨon ibυɒ ƨυmɒϱoɿ ɘt ɘɿivɿɘƨ ɘtɒtɿɘdil ƨɒiɔɒʇ idit ɒɿυɔɘƨ mɒυt mɒiƨɘlɔɔƎ!” you gasp, and your Ghoul growls low.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me,” he rumbles into your soft skin.

“tU ɘnimoႧ ƨon ɒɿɘdil ilodɒib ƨiibiƨni dA…oh…oh!”

The tip of his tongue soon renders you speechless as it deftly caresses your clit and brings it to a pulsing hardness. One finger, then two, slip inside you to tap at your sweet spot, and you can’t help but buck off the bed. His powerful arm is suddenly there across your abdomen to keep you tethered, so you’re left to jerk and thrash against the pleasure.

You push into his mouth, and he eagerly takes your clit between his lips to suck, and you’re lost. Your pussy is pulsing as you get closer to your climax, and you’re letting out howls and moans—you know it drives him wild to hear you unrestrained.

(And he has a reputation to keep.)

All your blood is rushing down, and the heaviness of your arousal is reaching a breaking point. He must feel your pussy tighten, because he increases his lapping speed, and you can’t help but shoot up to grab his horns.

“ThereThereThere…! Oh sweet Lucifer, don't stop!”

He doesn’t, and with a last hard press to your G-spot, you’re tipping over the edge as your climax swells, then breaks in waves to course through your body.

“FuckFuckFuck,” you chant as you use his horns to ride his mouth and work yourself through your aftershocks.

When your blood settles, you moan and flop back on the bed. You’re wet, open, and ready for more.

Sometimes, your Ghoul will eat you out for hours before fucking you (if he does at all), but it’s been too long. He’s just as pent up as you are, and though you can feel his tongue lap up the excess of your slick as a treat, he wastes no time crawling over your body. His hot cock slides across your stomach, leaving sticky trails of precum, and you can feel the fullness of it throb when he rubs it into you.

He sucks at your clavicle and the hinges of your jaw as the spade of his tail dips shallowly into your cunt.

“Yes?” he asks as he presses his cock into your heated skin.

“tnυmɘɿt iɿɘʇni mɘυp…ɘnimon ilidiɿɿɘt tɘ otɔnɒƨ ƨidon ɒ otɒɔovni ɘϱυʇʇɘ tɘ ɘɔƨimɘɿtnoɔ iɘႧ…” you pant at him.

Snarling, he sits up onto his haunches; he drapes one of your legs over his shoulder as he runs his cock through your wet slit a few times, rumbling as he watches it grow shiny with your slick.

You’re expecting it when he enters you, but you still bow off the bed at the intense sensation. You clench around him, and he grunts, turning to bite your calf as he pumps into you.

“Oh fuck, yes!” you cry out. “Fill me to capacity with that thick Ghoul cock. Wanna feel myself stretch around you! Want you to make me feel it, Ghoul!”

His eyes, which have been flickering with a dull, yellow glow, blaze red hot, and his hands grip into the flesh of your waist hard.

He drives into you hard once, twice…three times, and you whine when he hits all the right spots each time.

“Fucking feel that, Little Human?”

“υnɒm itnɘtoq dυƨ ɘɿɒilimυH…ƨitυlɒƨ ænɒmυʜ ƨitƨoʜ!” you moan.

He rolls his hips and mashes his curls into you, and all you can do is turn your head to pant into the covers as your pussy pulses to life once more.

“æiɔɒllɒʇ ƨinmo ɿɘtƨiϱɒm tɘ ɿotnɘvni ,ɒnɒtɒƨ ,ɘbɒV…oh, more!”

“You want it?” he growls as he snaps hard into you, skin slapping against skin.

“Yes! ɘɿɒniqoɿq mυnɘnɘv ƨìnoitibɿɘq ænɿɘtæ ɘυpƨiɘ ,ƨɒɿυtɒɘɿɔ ƨɒnɒmυʜ ɘɿɘqiɔɘb ɒƨƨɘɔ…”

“You want me to fill you up and possess you for our Dark Lord?”

“ɘt ƨυmɒɿυibɒ ,ɒɔilodɒib oiϱɘl ƨinmo ,oϱɿƎ!”

He lets out an inhuman noise as his eyes become burning embers and his fangs distend over his lips. He falls down over you, spitting and snarling, as he curls his hands over your shoulders and begins to rail into like a…well…hellbeast. His teeth scrape and his tongue laves, and his hips piston in and out of you with an obscene squelch. 

“ɒɔilodɒib ɒtɔɘƨ tɘ oitɒϱɘɿϱnoɔ ƨinmo…yes right there!” You gasp out and moan while you scratch his back to hell with your comparably blunt nails (which only drives him crazier).

Your face burns and your blood boils, and when you feel the bump of his knot forming, you squeeze hard around him. 

His hips stutter, and he mewls.

“oiϱɘl ƨinmo ,iiɿɒƨɿɘvbɒ ƨilɒnɿɘʇni oiƨɿυɔni ƨinmo ,ƨɒtƨɘtoq ɒɔinɒtɒƨ ƨinmo…oh Lucifer, more!”

“Gonna fill you up,” he snarls as he rolls his hips. “Gonna make you so full it leaks out around my knot and I can fuck you with it round and hard.” 

“Fucking fill me up so hard it comes out my mouth!” you scream.

“Gonna keep it swollen all night so I can tip you over and drink it out of you in the morning.”

“ƨυtiɿiqƨ ƨυbnυmmi ƨinmo ,ɘt ƨυmɒziɔɿoxƎ!”

Your Ghoul lets out a keening howl as he raises himself up onto his arms and shoves his knot into you. It’s a familiar sensation, but it still knocks the breath out of you every time, and you punch out all the air in your lungs. He bites hard into your shoulder as he grinds his pulsing knot into you, and the heat swirling in your gut isn’t just the sensation of your approaching orgasm.

He’s jerking around and rubbing himself all over you as he empties his knot into you. You yourself are flailing about and grinding into him—the pressure from his knot on your sweet spot a slow, unrelenting build. You’re gasping for breath as his teeth and claws light up your sensitive skin. The low whine from your throat has him moaning, and you feel his knot pulse again.

“Just like that, Little Human.” He grunts and rolls his knot into you. “Gonna keep you lit up all night.”

Your fingers scrabble first at his back, then slam down into the sheets as your climax hurtles toward you like a runaway freight train. When you cum again—your body jerking, hot with pleasure, and your cunt unable to get away from the exquisite pressure—he just sits up and grips your waist to keep you still.

“Squeeze,” he commands, and you do, clenching your walls as tight as you can against his still rock-hard knot. He twitches, his hips jerking into you as his knot kicks again. He lets out a series of staccato grunts, but his eyes remain fixed on your sweaty face and your rolling eyes.

“Don’t forget, Little Human…” he shifts until the pressure on your G-spot sends swirling sparks behind your eyes and you thrash against the bed. “I possess you until dawn…and we’re just getting started.”

Nema

you ever hear an audio and just know

based on the iconic post by @solarsyrup

Ghost + Goore as drafts I never posted because I forgot the context of why I wrote them

Cumulus: “I don’t live with these idiots! These idiots live with me!”

II: “Hello people who don’t work here anymore…”

Dewdrop: “STOP USING MY BURRITOS AS RACOON BAIT!”

Copia: *Voice cracks during Rats verse*

III: “It is my god damn Italian right to be dramatic!”

I: “B-but the pancakes! THE PANCAKES BROTHER!”

Swiss: “Did I call an emergency meeting just because we were out of Cheetos? Yes. I did. *whispers* (and Im not sorry about it)”

Mary Goore: “Breaking news: Local assholes burn down taco stand stationed in hearse”

Cirrus: “Im just a girl…towering over a guy…telling him to get his shit together. Seriously. Get your shit together man.”

Aether: “No dude. Im not talking about what happened in Japan.”