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#from a ghost
havntedvampire · 10 months
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Started readin Dracula
Its good so far, kinda a hard read but. If i can read Dostoevsky i can read Stoker
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marypsue · 10 months
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Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.
All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.
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starsofang · 1 month
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Simon didn’t like to hold you. He liked to be held.
At first, you didn’t understand why he’d turn his back to you in bed without saying anything. You thought you’d done something to him, or maybe he was in a bad mood. You couldn’t be any more wrong.
Simon Riley, an absolute brute of a soldier, was silently asking for you to be the big spoon. You nearly didn’t believe it when he finally brought it to your attention.
He was too embarrassed to ask you, so he’d resort to flipping on to his side and wait. And wait. Until he realized you didn’t catch the memo, even after many hopeless attempts.
In his mind, he thought being the big spoon would somehow convince you he wasn’t manly enough, as if his title in the service or his pure stature wasn’t proof enough of his masculinity.
To him, being held was a blanket of security. Where he’d always have to watch his back out on the field, both literally and metaphorically, he didn’t have to keep an eye out at all times with you. It was a chance for him to find solace in a person, and when he explained this to you, he was surprised to find you so willing.
And oh, when it happened, Simon nearly kicked himself for holding back on verbalizing it for so long.
The warmth of your arms when they wrapped around him from behind, your face buried between his shoulder blades, legs tangled in his, he thought that this was what inner peace felt like.
He was silly to think you’d ever be the one to judge him for what most deemed ‘unmasculine’. In all of his broad glory, he felt safe the moment you held him, like a child does when they feel a mother’s embrace except it was from someone he loved dearest to his heart.
And you? You found that being the big spoon was rather enjoyable when the man you’re holding was so damn comfortable to snuggle up to. It was a win-win for you both.
You just wished he wasn’t an idiot that left you wondering all those hopeless nights until the truth came out.
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yeyinde · 4 months
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size kink!King Simon Riley x virgin!reader.
Simon's never fucked a virgin before. never had an appetite for them, really. the type he prefers are easy prey. the ones who'll let him rut his fat cock into them until he cums, who always marvel at how big he is. everywhere. who wimper through the stretch, brows pinched tight and fists balled up, but can't fight the victory in their eyes when they reach the bottom, taking him to the root. proud, then, that they conquered this particular beast. he's fine with what he has. really—
but then he finds you. and it's over when your little fawn eyes fall on him, bringing this massive beast to his knees.
the only problem is. he's too big. much too big for you.
he can't fuck you properly so he pushes his cock against your slit, squeezes your thighs tight together, and ruts you like this. a pale imitation of the real thing, of course. but he gets off on how small you look under him, how he pushes out from between your thighs with each stroke, leaking precum all over your belly. marking you.
sex with you is him breaking your pussy in on his thick, rough fingers. one has you wincing, teeth clenched tight. like you've never been touched before. fuck. sweet as pie, aren't you? then two. a tight fit, but he makes it work. suckles on your clit until you gush around him, pussy knotting up around his knuckles like a vice. three is evidently more than you can handle. you howl into the sheets as he forces another finger inside, tongue laving over the stretched skin of your cunt. makes it up to you by wringing out several orgasms with his fingers pressed inside of your cunt, his tongue glued to your clit. his jaw, chin, and neck are drenched, and he basks in tang of you while you wimper against his chest, little sniffles dying out as he cuts his big palm over your pussy, holding you like that. owned. claimed. (almost) all his.
when he isn't fingering you, or spreading you over the sheets, thighs stretched wide over his shoulders as he buries his face into your sweet, sweet pussy, he likes to tap the head of his cock against your slit, admiring the sheer vastitude of your differing sizes. his cock slides between your thighs in a way that it almost garish to look at. awful. strokes his cock the sight of it as he makes you suck on his fingers, and play with your nipples. cums all over your chest, your face. makes you cum all over his, too. it's only fair, after all.
or it's just the tip—literally—because that's the most he can push inside of you before you're whining his name, little fists pounding his chest, pushing him back, trying to get this battering ram out of your sore, stuffed pussy. so he settles for working you open on three fingers, his tongue. loosening you up as much as he can before pushing the head of his fat cock inside of you until you start whimpering out his name. too much, too much, too much—
and then he leans back on his haunches to watch as your hands stroke along his shaft, letting just the head of his cock shallowly fuck into you, stretching your cunt out around him. it's obscene. lewd. he thinks he can smell brimstone clogging his nose, flaming licking his skin, with each inch he forces you to take. gets off on the sight alone, of him greedily giving you another inch. and then another. another. can already see the bulge in your belly. the heavy outline of his thick cock splitting you apart.
he cums inside of you like this. just the tip, fuckin' hell. cumming in your pussy as you masterbate his cock and whine at the too full, overstuffed feeling of him filling you up.
he can't help but to imagine what it would be like when you finally give in, when he pushes the full length of himself into you, splitting you apart around his considerable girth—
feels his cock pulse in response, spitting more spend out into your drenched cunt, plugged up nice and tight around him.
Simon knows you were made for him (and him alone). it's just that some toys need to be broken in before you can play with them. he'll see to it that you're broken in just right.
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theblackestofsuns · 6 months
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"From A Ghost"
Human Diastrophism (2007)
Gilbert Hernandez
Fantagraphics Books
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Ghosts Tell Me
~
Ghosts gather near the place where something bad is going to happen,
Danny with his ghost sense tends to notice before anyone else and tends to react outwardly before the danger even happens, gaining a reputation of seeing the future,
Ghosts also tell Danny things, causing Danny to know more about situations and the people around him, it comes of as suspicious.
~
Danny pulling away a snack from his coworker: "Careful your allergic to these ingredients!"
Coworker: "How the hell...I've never mentioned that to anyone."
~
Danny on a phone call with his friends while doing his nightly walks in Gotham: "Yeah so apparently the second Robin who is now Red Hood has very personal beef with the clown here cuz he got killed by him after being sold out by his bio mom, which really sucks for the poor guy."
Oracle who has been keeping an Eye on Danny cuz he's very suspicious from an outsiders pov: "Hey B, I think we have a problem."
~
Danny notices that the ghost in Gotham tends to gather where something bad is going to happen, the more they are the worse the situation will be: *glowing smoke leaves from his mouth* "Yikes! Very bad vibes here, nope!"
Gothamites who at this point recognize him and know the drill and quickly pack up their things to leave:
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~
Just an Idea
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abed-rashad13 · 1 month
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Hi friends
thank to everyone who donates and RT
I'm sorry,but the situation here is getting worse,and displacement is approaching us again😔
I may not be able to connect to the Internet in the coming days💔
So please donate and RT as much as you can🫂🍉
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MY LINK
best wishes:
Abed rashad
My account vetted by :
@el-shab-hussein
@ibtisam-d @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @7amaspayrollmanager @fairuzfakhira @fallahsart @sayruq @humanvoreture @kaapstadgirly @sar-soor @dimostheniskapa @plomegranate @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @stil-macher @soon-palestine @communitythings @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @ghost-and-a-half @7amaspayrollmanager @kaapstadgirly @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnota @toughknit @flower-tea-fairies @the-stray-liger @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf @communistchameleon @troythecatfish @the-bastard-king @4ft10tvlandfangirl @90 ghost
#🫒🫒🫒
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heavenbarnes · 6 months
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hmm thinking about older bf!simon who hasn’t really got his head around the whole sexting thing- the man had a flip phone before he met you.
he had, however, reluctantly gone out and got an android after a harmless conversation between the two of you.
“how am i meant to send you videos while you’re away if you have a flip phone, si?”
“videos of what?”
“guess.”
he virtually only uses the thing to get texts, calls, and videos of you fucking yourself in your shared bed whilst he’s deployed. he saves every video, which is a risky manoeuvre considering you haven’t taught him how to set a passcode yet (johnny catches a not-unwelcome eyeful when he goes looking for the directions he sent simon earlier)
older bf!simon is also a fantastic listener, when you tell him you want him to send pics but not ones that make his cock look like a dead fish. you give him strict instructions:
put your phone on self-timer, sit back, thighs spread, one hand around your cock, the other behind your head, you choose if your face is in it xox
man loves an order.
so whilst he’s away, you’re in the kitchen cooking up dinner-for-one and your phone buzzes on the counter- you drop the fucking pasta strainer straight on the floor when you unlock your phone.
simon’s face wasn’t necessarily in the photo, more so his mask. he was fully dressed, tactical gear (down to the vest) still on with a rifle leaning against his thigh. he was in the exact position you’d request, gloved fingers wrapped around the base of him with his other bicep firm behind his head.
you’re so busy saving the photo and staring back at it 100,000 times that you forget to respond. honestly, you forget how to function as your mouth goes dry and your eyes are unable to look at anything else.
simon hesitates on the other end, wondering if he’d fucked up- if he hadn’t followed the brief, if he’d embarrassed himself. thankfully, he knows he only has to ask.
“that what you were after, pet?”
the trepidation in his chest is replaced with a rapidly inflating ego.
“jesus christ, that’s exactly what i needed”
swapped out with slight confusion, but the ever present willingness to learn.
“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”
pt2
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"simon riley!"
your voice calling out to simon was what snapped him out of his relaxed state in the living room.
simon loved it when you call his name. not ghost. not lieutenant riley. just simon riley, or simon or si. your sweet voice calling his name sounded like a wave of melody in his ears.
but just now when you called his name loudly and it echoed in his flat, he felt the alarm bells ringing in his head.
danger.
he tried to act nonchalant when you stepped in front of him with your arms on your hips. your face was cool but simon could feel the anger behind your eyes.
"yes, love? wha' is it?"
"did you eat my pudding?" you glared at him, crossing your arms.
simon internally winced at that. yes, yes he absolutely did. but simon can't just admit it or else he would be the receiving end of your fury (he already did). he had to protect his pride as your loving and considerate boyfriend no matter what.
"no."
you looked at him, unimpressed. there were no words exchanged but the moment simon denied it, his fate was already sealed. your stare said it all.
you're sleeping on the sofa tonight.
and when you walked away, simon's brain frantically tried to come up with excuses and apologies.
goodluck, simon. you needed it.
happy 300 i love you guys (^_^)♡
— masterlist.
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inkbybambi · 11 days
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chemistry teacher soap catches gym teacher simon fucking you in the bathroom during a school dance, tattooed hand over your mouth to muffle the pretty noises you make. he doesn’t think either of you notice, until those dark eyes turn on him, a slight tilt to his head in invitation.
soap decides he has a better way of keeping you quiet, stuffing his cock down your throat, enjoying the way you choke on it and the way simon tugs him forward to lick into his mouth, a hum of approval low in his throat.
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shotmrmiller · 19 days
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ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.
soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)
interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?
"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."
soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.
"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.
soap nods. "ah'll be there."
"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."
yeah, he'd hate to have that.
soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.
maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.
"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.
simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"
soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."
the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.
you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.
"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."
you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."
your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-
"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"
he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.
"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."
you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.
"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"
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Into the pit is FNAF’s own Coraline story..
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bruciemilf · 7 days
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Alfred honestly can’t say shit about Bruce bringing in strays, because what if the Waynes got him the same way?
I genuinely can’t recall HOW Alfred, British special forces extraordinaire, ended up working for Gotham’s (scary) sweethearts.
In my mind, he came to them bleeding.
There’s a tang of bitterness pooling in his gut. Soldiers don’t have friends. They have guns. And he’s all out.
Just when Alfred thought all is in peril, a tiny little hand gently covers a nasty bullet hole on his abdomen.
The first thing Alfred thinks about is: ‘Jesus, this kid has scary eyes.’
“Hi, Alfred.”
“…How do you—“
“Bruce! Jesus FUCKING Christ, I swear, I’m not paying for your ransom next time you run o—…What the fuck is that?”
If there’s one thing about Thomas that Alfred will never forget is his voice; The bass , so chasmic and powerful it could shake the whole world, and the burning care in his eyes despite his vulgarity.
Bruce, — who’s the tiniest bundle of a boy Alfred witnessed, is yanked up by his father’s strong hands, squeezed to his chest carefully. “Hurt,” he says. There’s a tiny, red handprint on Thomas’ shirt.
“Yeah, I didn’t notice,” Thomas mumbling, looking around.
Maybe local gangs? The bullet point is too precise, too calculated. “Who the hell are you?”
Alfred, with his raspy breath, says, “I’m the terribly rude bloke dying on your doorstep, I’m afraid. Alfred Pennyworth. At your service.”
For a guy who’s about to bleed his last, he sounds awfully sarcastic.
“Yeah, wise guy, no one’s dying on my kid’s birthday. Bruce, tell Dotty to prep up the basement. And tell your mama to get my Budlight out of the cooler. Jesus Christ.”
Alfred ends up hoisted on this man’s back. Thomas asks if he has anyone he wants to call? Anyone that’ll come pick him up? Anyone to bury him, if it comes to it.
Alfred whispers he does not.
Thomas sighs. “Well. Kid‘a been asking for a playmate.”
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wispscribbles · 8 months
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I love your ghost design. I wanna squeeze him :⁠^⁠)
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If no hug then why hug-shaped???
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bluegiragi · 5 months
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the new in-house artist is kinda eye-catching...
early access + nsfw on patreon
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wanologic · 2 months
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fortunately, or unfortunately, they only see each other like 3 times a year…
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