#ghost gorl

[zero-the-hisui-zoroark]

fun fact 5: you're not the one

[wouldtheyfuck]

[ghostwhisperer]

starter call! like this post for me to come bug you in the ims for plots. ♥ multimuses, please specify muse!

[benjamin-benny-ben]

Hi Ghesties every take a sneak peak at Crochetia

He’s not done yet but he’s sooo close

[babyitsmagic]

i'm not saying i'm back on my em.ma du.mont as kitty bullshit but also consider: em.ma du.mont as kitty

[korn-y-copia]

Well ghesties, it is officially Friday here, so I am manifesting that nothing bad happens to Copia today. It’s a Friday, his favorite day, it’s just gonna be a normal Friday—after playing ghaseball yesterday—and tomorrow will be Saturday, and he will be okay. 😭😭😭

[callme-adam-iguess]

DS!Cesar looked at AAG!Mark. As he saw him,thinking that he's curious,he knows that this mark is from the other universe.

DS!Cesar:Oh h-hey mark- or...other mark...really didn't except to see me like this.

Mark had to process for one secon-

" I'm- uh, just as surprised as you are.." 'Other Mark'?.. What..??

There was a Girl following Mark, She seems to be a Ghost too.. He didn't seem to notice her at all and ... Why does she seem familiar?..

[strawberrysnoopy]

PROLOGUE/TEASER

summary: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

part one

**BASED ON THE CHARACTER.AI BOT BY WESKER420. Please follow them, jesus christ, their bots are like crystal meth: they are so good.**

warnings: this is an OOC. I am a firm believer that Leon is an honest and very respectful man and would never do anything to hurt another person to the best of his ability. leon x model!fem! reader, series, SMUT!! SMUT!! SMUT!! they will fuck and that is a promise! infidelity (obvs, babes, look at the title), fem! reader, reader has a vagina, descriptions of masturbation, brief mention of a fleshlight, lube, tissues. leon's kind of a perv if you squint, vaginal sex, anal sex, smoking, language, drinking, weed smoking (mention and act), some texts, lingerie mention, photoshoots, jealousy and possessiveness (the hot kind), ada slander at times, leon is married to ada, no use of y/n or (name) because it gives me the ickity ick, angst at times becos i'm a sad gorl, sorry if grammar sucks but im a slut, also i promise there's dialogue i just ❤️ context and description, slowburn, mutual pining, eventual smut, pov switching from time to time (but not like you pronouns changing to she/her, just like the majority of a chapter would be told in Leon or your point of view,)

For months, Leon had been writhing in his silk sheets at night. He was no stranger to these encounters, considering his career as an agent. Nightmares were a usual guest in his home of dreams, but this time was different. They weren't the usual nightmares of losing his team, no. They were...wet dreams. About you.

Dreams of fucking you so hard he'd break the bed. Dreams of your goddamn perfect tits bouncing in unison with his violent thrusts. Dreams of your whines, constantly praising him on how good he fucked you, how good he felt with the tip of his cock kissing your cervix like they had just had their first kiss on their front porch after a first date. He was fiendish in those fantasies. He'd gotten desperate to the point of going online and buying a fleshlight with his own adult money. He had felt so shameful. Leon went out and fought a bioweapon (saving the world) with a fat paycheck handed to him. A paycheck he would spend on a sex toy because he couldn't stop dreaming of fucking you.

But that's all they were to him. Dreams. Wet dreams, at that, but just dreams. He did feel guilty, there was no denying that: he felt like a teenager going through puberty all over again, having to jerk his cock multiple times past the point of overstimulation to have the fleeting moment of you pass his mind and regulate back onto the normal, time-to-time sexual thoughts of his wife. He knew he probably wasn't alone in this. Besides, he wouldn't ever act on it. True, Leon was in an unstable and semi-toxic relationship with his wife, Ada, but the mere thought of cheating on her made him feel violently ill. He was loyal. He was kind. He was honest. He was the type of man you brought home to your parents and they'd clamor over him like a newborn baby Jesus. At least that's what he'd try to convince himself of. But tonight, Leon Kennedy would be a different man. He'd diligently play the part of a loving and caring husband, one who could never dream of cheating on his wife with another woman. Tonight would be the night that he would have dinner with his friends he hadn't seen in a while, chat, have a good laugh and a good meal until he eventually went home and spent the rest of the night with Ada. Leon knew this wouldn't be the most perfect night ever, of course not: he's never been a lucky man in his life, and that certainly won't be changing tonight. Why? Because you're there. You're there to haunt him like some horny odd ghost: almost as if you're taunting and teasing him with your mere presence. Like you're telling him: "I know you want to fuck me."

He's torn from his thoughts with the sultry palm of Ada's hand surfacing upon his shoulder. Yet, her hand feels cold. He remembers the warmth he felt at the beginning of their marriage, she felt sweaty at some points, but she felt as cold as freezing air in a Colorado Winter. He realized he had been standing in front of their bathroom mirror for ten minutes, doing the same motion of moving his tie back and forth like he was masking the way he thought about changing it.

"Ready?" Leon nodded in response, finally stopping the long game of toying with the elongated piece of fabric. He pats his wife's hip, to which he's met with a curt smile, concealing a plethora of disgust. He wants to be sad. Say something snarky. Be angry even. But all he feels is disappointed in himself. Leon knew that Ada had betrayed him ages ago during the Raccoon City incident but had put it upon himself to trust her again. That's what love is right? He would tell himself every time he felt a doubt begin to creep inside his hollow mind. Trusting someone even when they hurt you in the past.

Eventually they arrive at the dinner party, being greeted with hugs and the usual: "Leon, Ada, it's been so long. So nice to see you!"'s and so and so forth. On one hand, he's grateful. How lucky is he to have the opportunity to come together with his friends and have a nice evening that quells the dark thoughts of breaking his wife's trust or the fact their marriage was breaking at the seams and there was nothing he could do to fix it anymore. Then there's his other hand. The hand that's caked in filth and gut-wrenching horniness that tells him to cheat on his wife with you. The devil on his shoulder, if you will. The small malevolent voice was awoken as soon as his eyes settle upon your body. The one he dreamt about for the past few months.

You're wearing cute little pearlescent earrings upon your lobes, a necklace to match and finished off with a very lovely black slip dress that hugs your body just right. The fabric lovingly stretches across your tits like the dress was ripped straight from every man's dream. There was a slit upon the side: revealing enough until... There was a stirring in his jeans. His cock suddenly leaps to life as if it were unconscious and been resuscitated back to life via CPR. The phallic shaft ached against the gusset and fly of his cotton Calvin Klein brand boxers: tip sweeping against his waistband in a way that felt so familiar now, so normal. And for one of the first times in Leon Scott Kennedy's life, he truly realizes how fucked he is.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

[pearldog30]

The ghosts dick sizes and more....

Hesh, Logan, Keegan.

I don't even know why I came to this point but here we are.... Enjoy bb gorls🖤😙

Other words 👉 Master list

Warnings| obviously the talk of the boys dicks, and a little nsfw.

Hesh🌴

Hesh is 5.8in (14.732cm) curves a little to the left, he's cut, and very VERY thick especially the tip just know he'll be hitting that perfect spot every time with how thick he is, his tip is the same color as his lips maybe a little lighter while the rest of him is a beautifully, flush dark pink, his balls are pretty average for his size (although they kind of look small from how THICK his cock is) they hanging pretty low, he's unshaved but he'll trim it for you (if that's what you prefer).

Now here's a little spicy part for you guys!

Hesh is a hand thruster... He fucks his hand hard and fast anytime he jacks off, he has violated his hands more than you ever could. he's a quieter groaner/moaner he just naturally is without even trying, he always tries to stay quiet but it slips out of him and he doesn't even realizing it. (All tho somehow the wet sounds are always so loud coming from him)

Keegan☠️

Keegan is 6.2in (15.748cm) doesn't really curve he's also cut, he's about average size thickness maybe a little bigger but not by much, BUT! he's kind of veiny, His balls tho are kinda thick tho you can feel how hard they slap against you almost like his hand, he keeps it clean shaved for the most part, his color I feel like he's a little tan his dick doesn't got much color to it unless he's fuckin you REALLY hard then its a little red

Keegan likes it slow and steady he just likes taking his time and building the pressure (only when he's by himself though) Low key edges himself when he does jack off. This man DOES NOT make any sound whatsoever.... He could honestly jack himself off while sharing a room with others and no one would even know.

Logan😶‍🌫️

Now Logan.... He's also 6.2in (15.748cm) maybe a tad bit longer. He's NOWHERE! near as thick as the others but he is very veiny, (He only has length going for him honestly) he also curves slightly to the left as well, He is as well as his brother cut, now his balls hang lower then his brother (surprisingly) but they're a little smaller. And he's like Keegan he keeps it clean shaved ALL THE TIME, (even shaves his ass) now his color I don't know why but I feel like his tip is BRIGHT pink while the rest of it is more subtle kind of like his lips but a little darker.

Logan is a bit more tricky it depends on his mood, Sometimes he's fast and hard, and other times he likes to take his sweet old time... All tho he likes to move his hips and hand at the same time becoming perfectly in sync. (but he's not as violent to his hand as hesh is with his) he's whimper/whisperer all tho if he's REALLY feeling himself it can get a bit loud but he tones it down pretty quick.

And that's going to be the end for this. this literally just came to mind and I had it written out, so I figured you guys deserved it with a little spicy twist of course. I hope you're having a good day/night wherever you are! Reblogs, comments always appreciate it 🖤

Tag list| @alexkellersleg @macravishedbymactavish @walker33961 (if you would like to be added just message with your name)

[loneliestluvr]

𝑻𝒐 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝑰 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑮𝒐, 𝒊𝒊𝒊.

i. ii. iii.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron OC

Synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

Warnings: beron😒, abuse in general(like triggering af please be warned), me being a rhysand hater, brief suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4.1k— this took me all day to write(from 7-9 am and then 3-now please be thankful😞🙏🏼)

taryn thinks: YES I DID CHANGE THE NAME. IT FITS BETTER. I HAD NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS WHEN I STARTED. HUSH. i would like to choose this very moment to tell you there will be a happy ending and to say they WILL end up with babies. still unsure how many parts this will be though 💃🏼 im just a gorl. @readychilledwine this is my payment for that tamlin baby and domestic fluff(smut if you’d like) bonus chapter for lost bonds 🤗

There was glass shattered on the floor by the windows.

Eris’s head was down as he stood before his father, pieces of deep auburn hair hanging by his eyes as he tried not to move and tried not to let any emotion pass over his face. Just as Beron expected when he took his lashings— whether that be from a whip, his tongue, or his powers.

However indignant, the fact his father had chosen his tongue today was a mercy.

“You are insignificant,” Beron seethed, spit spraying from his mouth as he yelled. The deep, cruel, voice booming off the walls of his fathers study. “—a bastard, truly. A bastard because you surely can not be this stupid and be born of me. A worthless excuse for a first son.”

Eris kept his stature wane, making himself small for his father despite the fact he was a few good inches taller than the male.

Sometimes, he thought the High Lord’s need to belittle and denigrate everyone around him, raise his voice and grow violent, was driven by some sort of lust. For power, respect, whatever it may be. Something he lacked.

That maybe the fact he put energy into minimizing his court, his family, his wife even, was because he didn’t even respect himself. That he needed to create room for his anger and hatred by pushing others down.

What had happened to him that made him so cruel? Is this how his father had been to him? Was this love to him?

“How is it that we’ve only just learned there’s a fourth sister, Eris? Tell me,” Beron’s voice grew lethally quiet as he spoke and Eris forced himself to breathe, bracing mentally. “—tell me so I know who better to put on the throne instead of your pathetic fucking excuse of life.”

His words grated against his ears, voice tight and angry and again growing louder as he spoke.

Another glass was thrown, and shattered. Hitting the wall so close to Eris’s head that a piece flew at him, slicing across his cheek lightly. He barely moved.

The crystal thin enough, knife-like enough, that he felt the warmth of his blood start to slowly seep from his skin.

Like moisture collecting on the petal of a white poppy in the early morning dew when he sat in the meadows by the Forest House, Saydee’s head in his lap as he talked to the earth. A small reprieve from the chaos of the palace.

Eris was there, in his mind.

Petting his hounds grey coat as he whispered, just as he always did when the sun came over the horizon and woke for the day. Like he had since he was just a faeling sitting in his mothers lap as she did the same.

His mother had explained it so gently one morning, sat in the grass, about when the sun comes over the skyline to say good morning. Not to speak too loudly or too brash so that he didn’t startle the earth, because she too deserved kindness. The Mother.

So almost everyday for as long as he could remember, he sat in that meadow, lazing in the tall grasses as those vibrant hues of blue and orange and pink and yellow streaked across the sky— and he whispered to Her.

About his hopes and dreams that would never be fulfilled or sought after, talked of the life he wished to have. That he wished his own mother had. Asked for her days to be gentler, kinder, prayed on every wild dandelion he found, for someone to share his days with, to talk to— however boring.

And he had. He had his dogs, and he had the fields surrounded with the creeks that ran through their property, and he had the sky.

He wished he was there most of the time. So he created a place in his head, to escape in moments like this.

Acres of meadows, full of flowers and taller grass than he could dream of. Up to his hips, his bloodhounds disappearing beneath the blades as he strolled leisurely. Hands wading through the soft thicket. Sometimes he dreamed of others with him, his mother, Lucien, someone else.

Locked away that piece of himself to disappear into whenever being in his body became too much.

It’s where he had spent nearly fifty torturous years Under the Mountain, spending every waking moment protecting the female who had raised him for his father didn’t care to. Spending fifty years away from those grasslands and that beautiful savoy grandeur. His meadows.

Throwing stick after stick out into those pastures as he walked further and further, his best girl running every time he threw— chasing bunnies and jumping into the streams. Getting lost in his mind. When he knew it was morning, which was so very rare down in that dark and decrepit nightmare, he prayed. He prayed for some divine force to step in, for Her to save him and his family. To be kinder. The first time he cried and spoke his despair aloud, Feyre Archeron had come three days later.

Eris was deep in fern grasses as the blood dripped down his face, but he still did not move.

He hadn’t even taken his coat and finery off from Hewn City yet, having told his father he was coming from the lookout on the northern border. He didn’t bring attention to it.

He heard his fathers deep breath and the creaking of the chair behind his desk as he sat, maybe seeing reason now that the heady scent of his sons blood filled his study.

“You will go to Rhysand as soon as possible,” Beron started, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eris still didn’t look up, just blinked at the floor. “—do what you must. Find a way in, figure out what else those wretched girls took from us. I do not care if you kill or maim or whatever else takes your interest these days.”

His voice trailed off as if remembering something significant and Eris heard the wood groan again and then footsteps, his heart remaining steady despite the screaming that filled his head. Then he saw the polished toes of Beron’s shoes.

“You always were the smartest of my sons. So much like me, so brutal.”

Male pride laced those words. Eris wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, and he did want to kill. He wanted to kill the man before him, wanted to kill the ruination that circled this court. That ripped its beauty from her chest, chewed it up, and spat it out.

But he did not move.

A hand gripped his chin, turning his face to the side and up. Eris let his eyes flick to his fathers face and saw the warning there.

“Where did you get this.” It wasn’t a question, Eris knew.

“I was playing with Saydee and tripped too close to a jagged rock, it cut me. It didn’t hurt.”

Beron released his chin if only to land a sharp slap on his other cheek and then immediately grabbed his face again. His grip burned, like molten ire, making the flesh of his cheeks dig into his teeth.

“Where did you get it.”

“I was practicing my swordsmanship with Brenton and he sliced me with his rapier, it was an accident. He got the proper punishment for hurting me.”

Beron released his son’s face and stepped back.

“Get out, don’t let your mother see you.”

Doubtless that the reason he wanted him gone was because he didn’t want his sons blood to drip onto those precious carpets.

Eris didn’t need to be told twice, so he walked. As calmly as he could until he got to his rooms, making sure to take the long way around and avoid where his mother was no doubt waiting by her own door to hear Eris’s footsteps walk by.

To know he was safe, or to know what his father did. Either way, he didn’t want her to see him like this.

Closing the door behind him, he finally loosed a breath, opening his eyes as he shucked off his jacket and draped it over the chaise by the hearth. Walking to his tray of decanters, lightly touching the blood on his face with one hand as he picked a bottle up in the other.

His scarred fingers came back crimson.

A slow boiling rage, like simmering sugar, filled his body. His muscles, gritting his teeth silently. Grip growing tight as he looked at that blood.

And then that was all he saw as the glass bottle shattered into the brick fireplace, sending the flames roaring and him stumbling back a few steps into the post of his bed.

He hadn’t noticed it was lit, vision glazed over.

He was breathing heavily, eyes wide as he watched the flames fulminate, casting an orange glow on his room and his face. So bright and wild he felt the heat from feet away as he watched the fire roar and gutter back down.

Eris thought that maybe he really wasn’t any better than the man that sired him at all.

Spring in Velaris was beautiful.

The mid-day sun warmed the air around the River House, a gentle breeze kissing Blair’s skin and ruffling through her curled hair.

She’d let her little sister braid it back this morning, a thin coronet that made a beautiful pleated flower on the back of her head. Though her loose bangs tickled her eyes, Blair thought she had looked rather pretty.

She wasn’t so outside of her body when she sat in the open air. And she felt… alright.

Though she would have preferred a fir to scale, as they allowed for easier climbing, but the willow she had found herself in made for a good view of Elain working in Feyre’s garden.

It was a welcome change from her window. Like there was no need to run away and hide in the forests of her mind, digging her own hands into the soul of the earth just to make sure her mind didn’t numb away.

She was almost laying down against the bark, the large trunk and spindling branches wide enough two people could have sat up here side by side. As uncomfortable as it may have been, the rough corking crust digging into wherever it touched through her pale yellow gown, it felt like home.

It’d been a week since Starfall at the House of Wind, almost a month since that all too brief introduction she had made to the world in Hewn City on Winter Solstice. Of Prythian’s world, at least.

Blair hadn’t expected anything for it, she had been there for a short half hour and had been… occupied the whole time.

Sometimes her skin still burned when she was alone. In the bath, when she stirred honey into her tea, late at night in the too cool sheets of her bed.

She’d felt her own since Hewn City, able to think and manage conversations, elating to Feyre and Elain and she quite enjoyed conversing with her little sisters now. But she still laid by the fire, night after night just to feel that warmth fill her.

But after that, after the surplus of gifts from their small gathering that followed, presents hadn’t stopped when the Solstice holiday ended— but they weren’t coming from her family.

Baskets and boards and chests and boxes were sent to Rhysand’s palace and then were brought to the House. Welcoming’s and courtiers from every place in Prythian it seemed, branching out to welcome her.

Well wishes, mostly. Some off-notes and letters, claiming that Blair Archeron’s beauty could be used to fix the rifts in this continent and between courts. That had been the most absurd one, a letter for Rhysand asking for her hand in marriage. He laughed as he read it to her, sitting by the window— knees tucked into her chest.

It angered her more than anything. That she was already a prize to be had, or that it was Rhys they were asking.

Slowly, as days passed and she spent more time outside breathing clear air, the anger grew. The realizations came in waves, of things she had missed, times where she should have spoke up and didn’t.

Resentment, frustration, shame, guilt.

She didn’t let it show, bottling it up and shoving it down. Killing the urges inside her to scream at everyone, to bellow and seeth and grow violent. Something so awake in her, gnashing and bloody teethed. The need to give into that voice in her head that told her to let it go.

That she needed to in order to go on, in order to have a sense of normalcy. That exploding was the only was to settle her bones. She felt particularly nasty towards Rhysand.

The betterment he had to achieve and grovel over, should grovel over, was stacked against the High Lord.

The anger was what took her the most, forcing her fingers to loosen the grip she had on her fork at dinner nightly as she listened to him ramble and laugh. Watched Feyre go on like she would not die having his child, closer and closer to being due.

She wanted to watch him bleed as her sister was going to.

Wanted to scream for all he had made Nesta do.

The entitlement.

But Blair buried it.

So she would glare to herself when he wasn’t looking, lip pulled back slightly and passed off as a twitch, before she took in what was sent as an attempt to woo her.

Blair had thought they were for Feyre in all honesty, before Cassian explained that it was bad luck. A few days ago when he walked with her along the Sidra— Elain had dragged her out and in return she made the Illyrian come with her— he had said it was a grim omen and wish of terrible luck to send an expecting mother gifts for a babe that hadn’t yet been born. To the fae at least.

She listened mindlessly. Noting the scent of her older sister that came from him in waves. She needed to talk to Nesta, and soon. A conversation was owed on both ends.

The thin parchment of the book she was reading scraped against the soft pads of Blair’s fingers as she leaned back against the large trunk of the willow.

Vines of cream wisteria flowing in the soft wind that sent the caps of her bell sleeves fluttering, watching Elain out of the corner of her eye as she dug her bare hands into the soil. Choosing not to use the enchanted gloves Lucien had gifted to her as she tended to the flower beds at the back of the house.

Despite the cool air surrounding Blair from the river flowing a few paces away, a warmth bloomed past her skin, not from the sun, but from something else, and her chest melted or sparked or roared as she saw a flash of deep auburn hair— walking towards where she was in the tree.

The second oldest Archeron’s brow furrowed so slightly. That scent— that heated mahogany and citrus, burning embers, floated to her on a soft wind and brushed through her hair in a soothing caress.

Eris’s hand skimmed along the brush of a white rose hedge as he strolled, his gait loose but strong. Blair kept her focus on the pages she was reading, but a sudden pounding in her heart had her unable to focus on any of the words.

She heard him approach, feet light and careless, she wouldn’t have heard it if she were still human. But with her new ears, the new senses she was still getting used to, she could.

The feet stopped, just under her, and Blair flipped the page. The thin and gauzy skirt of her dress draped and hung down the branch she lounged on, leg crossed over the other.

Eris cleared his throat then, and Blair could see his tall stature blurred in the peripheral of her vision. Hands tucked appropriately behind his back.

“I’m shocked Rhys let you come here, especially with my baby sister in her condition.” Blair said without lifting her head to look at him. Eris hid his smile by lowering his head. “Or should I be worried you’ve come to steal Nesta away? She’s not here, by the way.”

The words poured out of her mouth so quickly that Elain lifted her head in wonder, the same furrow as her older sister’s she’d seen play out in her face so many times. Rhys was standing with his arms crossed on the stone walkway when Elain looked to the back doors. Not pleased, but something willing.

“Now, smart, beautiful thing.” He tsked his tongue, amusement lacing every word. “I wanted to see you, and I told you that Nesta was not what I wanted anymore.”

Blair lifted her head at that, looking down at his wretchedly beautiful face and he smiled that wicked smile at her that spoke of pure sin. The level of her belief was in her eyes.

Whatever he offered that was big enough for Rhys to allow him to come to Velaris, she didn’t believe it would be just for her. Eris had given something to gain something— that’s what they all said of him.

“I told him I’d spoil our fun and tell my father of our plans or he could let me see you and I’d send a legion tomorrow for him to direct.” Eris added, as if reading her mind or face or body. She forced herself to keep looking at him.

“I could have met with you somewhere else.”

“Would you have? Left this place?” A raise of his brows.

Blair didn’t know, she didn’t know why she said it. Why her tongue just moved before she could think with him. Her eyes said as much and then a sudden, unknown, panic filled her and the life guttered so quickly from her eyes.

“It is safer here anyway.” Eris said lightly a few seconds later, followed by a quiet sigh.

There was a thin white gash along his cheek, almost healed, but it wasn’t there the last time she’d seen him. Blair remembered every inch of his face whether she wanted to or not. A face that followed her.

“No gift to try and sweep me into a marriage with you?” She said as gently as she could, face a bit flat.

“I thought I gave you one.” Eris smiled and at Blair’s squinted eyes, he continued. She closed her book and tossed it to the ground, narrowly missing him as it thudded to the ground. “Our dances, I did give you three I believe. Is that not the correct number in the mortal realm when a male is courting a female?”

The female blinked down at him, pausing as she swung her legs over the side of the branch, face drawing ever tighter and then she couldn’t control it.

It was the wording that sent her laughing she supposed. The sound rich and full of life, not empty and deserted or even strained, a song that skittered over Eris’s skin. Soft and silky as a fawn’s coat, gentle and easy as a gliding dove.

“I suppose,” Blair started, grunting slightly as she slid on her stomach— using the little strength she had in her arms to hold tight to the trunk she was dangling from. “—if we were in the mortal realm.” Blair panted slightly and Eris’s mouth formed a tight line as he watched the female struggling to climb back to the ground.

Her palms quickly formed indents from the grooves and bumps and ridges she clung to, nails digging into the wood.

“But,” Slipping slowly, trying to find a place for her dangling bare feet to land or stick to so she didn’t drop seven or eight feet right to the grass. The thin sleeves of her dress catching and snagging on sharp ribs in the bark. “—I so graciously have the rest of my immortal life ahead of me,”

“Would you…” Eris’s hands trail off as he watched, hands behind his back and head tilted.

“I have choices, to make—” Blair interrupted, toes splaying as she reached and reached for the next thing down but there was just nothing. “So I think it fair I take,” She huffed, hands slipping and sweating as she tried to grapple. “My,”

Eris raised an amused brow to her backside, arms crossing over his chest as he just watched. Her full body dangling there and then Blair yelped, right hand slipping and then she was falling with a gasp.

Eris was there a second later, large hands firmly gripping her waist as her knees bent over something. Scratching up her hands as she went, skin ripping on the rough bark and she grappled for anything. Body twisting.

It was Eris who caught her, who she tangled herself onto so she wouldn’t slam against the ground. Panting, heart beating, arms around his neck before she looked at him.

Blue, rust-flecked eyes met amber ones.

“Time.” She whispered, staring at his face. He’d caught her. She couldn’t tell if it was her pulse she could feel inside her hand, or his, as it held to the junction between his neck and shoulder. His eyes flicked down.

“Yellow was a choice, my dear Blair.” She scrambled from his arms, dropping another foot before touching the ground as she stood on her own again.

“I like yellow.” She spoke quietly, brushing her hands along her dress and halting when it streaked the fabric with a dirty red. Looking up at him with a breath, she crossed her arms instead.

“Beautiful as a rare star, then.”

Blair rolled her eyes.

“What is it you want, Eris?”

The male nearly fell to his knees at the look in her eyes, the sound of his name on her tongue for the first time.

Out loud, that is. He’d rewatched her beautiful lips play with it in his head for the past month, over and over. Kept it for himself, for when he was alone or bored or…

Eris feigned a pout.

“No polite courtier? I just saved you, my fair damsel.” He said, face serious until he smiled again and Blair started walking back towards the house. Rhys mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk as he watched.

“I do not need saving, the worst that would have happened was a few scratches or a bruise. I would have lived.” Even if she didn’t particularly care to. She didn’t say that out loud, though. But the despair seeped into something, she didn’t care enough to stop and think about the feeling.

“Mm,” He hummed, following behind her. “I suppose so.” He wanted to grab her, to touch and feel her beneath the flesh of his hands just because. Something inside his chest dragging him along behind her, he was not himself.

Blair just kept walking, right up the stones and the marble stairs off the back of the house, feet padding to the doors. Eris stopped at the steps where Rhys made him halt.

“Don’t let them hold you.” Eris called and she looked over her shoulder just briefly before flinging the doors open and disappearing inside the house that was warded off. Eris couldn’t follow after her if he wanted to.

“You saw her. For whatever reason you needed, she clearly did not have an interest in the same.” Rhys sighed, stepping in front of Elain subconsciously as Eris stood there— still looking into the House. “Now leave my city before I kill you, you know not to speak of this place to anyone.”

Eris was still staring after her when he disappeared in a rush of wind and warm light.

Elain looked back at the tree where her sister and the male had come through moments ago, only to find a particular trail of higher grass where Blair had walked and suddenly grown dandelions were blooming.

From the slam of the back door seconds later and the vacant yard that Elain was now left alone in, nobody else had noticed.

🏷️: @prythianpages @readychilledwine @impossibelle @anuttellaa @aelincaddel @umgatochamadopercyval @mirandasidefics

[dilftaroooo]

a lil something for my black gorls bc apparently every reader in this fandom is fair skinned </3

oh lord ghost turns into holy spirit bc of how much he worships u and yo body goodness gracious (i am so sorry father god 💀🧎🏽‍♀️). got carried away. p.s. yall i haven’t written anything in a hot minute so this small thirst might be raggedy as hell (my coochie was doin the thinking)

tags: smut + afab reader + ghost loves you sm + just as much as u love him + finger lickin good pussy eatin + body worship + slight dumbification + i was planning on making him rough with u but then i went soft :) + p power + piv sex + barely proofread + im so sleepy i’ll probably edit the format later + forgot how much i fucking hate tumblr’s editing antics.

You had lost count already. How many times you came to be exact. Has it gone up to Two? Three? Yeah—three. At least that’s what you think. Well—you suppose thinking is starting to become more and more of a rare luxury considering the state you were in—dazed and stupid. Eyes decorated with a red glow from the tears that spilled from them along with a glossy sheen that finished the look.

Subtle hints of wet mascara slid down the apples of your cheeks as Ghost’s fingers delve deep within your wet entrance. His digits were more than acquainted to the slimy ridges that lived inside of you. He graciously pets your most sensitive spots with the utmost care, making your pussy scream as his moist lips kisses your bothered clit as though he’s cooing it to sleep. His tender nature juxtaposes the foreboding gleam of his skull mask and dark eyes drowning in war paint.

It’s those eyes. The ones that made you shiver and whine whenever they catch sight of you. The ones that glare under dim, yellow lights when you inevitably made him jealous. Enough to make them turn green. The ones that form crescent moons whenever he reminds you how much he loves you (the mild appearance of crow’s feet adorning the outer corners). Those eyes—

God, those big fucking eyes.

Sweat makes your melanin coated skin glisten, emitting a warm glow that send tingles up Ghost’s spine. He can feel the goosebumps covering his body as you inadvertently arch your back, pushing your warm sex up against his upper lip, making him groan into your sensitive nub. Your core tighten once more, your pedicured toes stretched across the apex of his back, polish chipped and damaged from irritation, the power of your orgasm jolting you with a hot flash.

Now it's your fourth time.

Brown areolas raise up and down from your big breaths, in the process of coming down from that high you’ve encountered just a second ago. But Ghost doesn’t know rest as he gorges your nipple in his mouth, adoring the quick yelp escaping your lips.

“Ah, Ghost…” You say with kind fragility. Your palms lightly tap his shoulder. Not telling him to stop but telling him to slow down. It was too much. His hands caressed your naked curves. He loved admiring your body. Taking the time to relish just how gorgeous you really are—from head to toe:

Your cornrows styled in intricate parts, freshly layered with the tropical smell of coconuts. Skin gleaming with the overly used shea butter that rarely missed a day off your body. Lips full and plump and coated with that cherry chapstick he loves to taste. Your breast were round and soft to the touch. And your pussy—Fuck, that pussy shined with your juices. Juices he created from fucking you silly with his fingers.

Ghost wasn’t a religious man. He never was. But of all the possible religions out there, your pussy was the one he worshiped the most.

He loved this pussy. Kneeled for this pussy. Prayed for this pussy.

Your being was his shrine and your name was his mantra. He couldn’t get enough of you and your light touches and gentle praises. Ghost couldn’t find more ways to thank you for your existence.

He releases your nipple with a soft pop and utters a voice lower than you’ve ever heard him use, “I need you, love.” You don’t take long to nod with evident fervor. Languidly aiding him in unbuckling his pants and releasing him from those tight restraints.

“I need you,” He repeats. “need that soaking wet cunt.” His Mancunian accent is thick and laced with desire when his mouth spewed that last word. You let go of a wanting mewl before spreading the dark, puffy lips that lead to your sopping wet hole. Just what he wanted.

You both moan in unison as you both get what you want. His hand engulfed yours and you’re quickly reminded of how big he is. His fingers are long and thick. Your legs twitch as you remember how they feel rubbing inside you. He leisurely finds his way deep in your sex. Your tightness pains him in the way that he likes. Leaning down to grunt into your ear, nose filled with that familiar coconut scent, you clench around him when his teeth bites down at the shell of your ear.

He loves you. He loves you so much—your hair, your eyes, your lips, your smile, your voice, your taste, your scent. You’re wonderful. Breathtaking. Beautiful. So so beautiful. He’s so glad he has you. That you’re in his arm moaning so prettily for him. And its almost unbelievable to him that you think of him the same way he thinks of you.

Once your breathing gets heavier and his thrusts gets sloppier and your eye starts twitching, you both finally succumb to the hot rush of pleasure. You don’t object to his heavy weight toppling over you after he fills you up (you encourage it with a hug despite how heavy he is). It feels good—laying like this. So intimate. You pet the back of his head taking in his warmth. Time passes before he slowly looks up at you, his eyes the same temperature as both of your bodies meshed together, and he suddenly states,

“That’s your fifth one, doll.” And you can’t help the quiet snicker that leaves you before giving him a playful slap to his arm, telling him to shut up. You somehow manage to catch a small glimpse of him rolling his eyes beneath that inky mask of his. This was intimate indeed. You finish off the night with a kiss to his forehead and you felt your heart flutter when he answered with a subdued hum.

[b0rtney]

Being just some gambling guy in ghost city in book 2 of tgcf must be sooo fucking wild. Like, ur chengzhu who is known for saying things like “u could bet ur whole life and it wouldn’t be worth it bc ur life isn’t worth shit,” changes the rules so ppl have to bet against HIM to win the meat sack he’s got stapled to the ceiling. Ur reasonable so ur like “Um. No ty I choose to continue existing.” Some random guy with the best facial u have ever seen and a lil bamboo hat is like “I’ll do it :)” and has visibly never gambled before. Ur saluting him in precognitive mourning bc Ripppp lol. Then hua cheng, crimson rain sought fucking flower, is like “oh noooo ur shaking the cup wrong bestie come behind the curtain so I can show u how to do it <3” and you’ve gambled before so ur like “oh god he’s gonna kill him the poor sap w his stupid lil bamboo hat” but he goes up there, hua cheng holds his hands and genuinely shows him how to shake dice in a cup. U r kinda peeing urself laughing?? Bc wtf is this??? The poor sap rolls 3s and u r once again saluting him before he dies, but hua cheng— who was gonna let a guy lose 20 years and a happy marriage for his daughter five minutes ago— is like “nah it’s ok bb gorl that was a practice one <3 u can roll again” THIS HAPPENS THREE TIMES!!!! Some of the girls in the crowd are writing in-person fanfiction on the ghost equivalent of a phone notes app. FINALLY my mans rolls 6s and ur like “well fuck there must have actually been something to that cup shaking technique???” So the funky lil bamboo hat guy who has just spent like 20 minutes doing intimate pottery hand-holding cup shaking w ur chengzhu takes the guy stapled to the ceiling and starts to leave but NOT BEFORE HUA CHENG IS LIKE “babe,,, u promised me ur half-eaten bun qwq” and at this point even bamboo hat guy is like “r u fuckin fr rn??” But he gives it to him. Hua cheng accepts it as if it is worth an entire lifetime of joy, takes a bite while making direct eye contact w bamboo hat guy, then says “I’m going home and I’m taking bamboo hat guy w me” LIKE BRO???? IF I WERE A GHOST I WOULD BE CALLING LIU MINGYAN THE ESTEEMED FANFIC WRITER AND BUYING A COMMISSION SLOT ASKFJGKRK

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

I know what did you do on Shizuo day

FFffFFINE

wa-san's shizuo day itenerary:

1 and a half edibles

tie dyeing for a fun ghost trick shirt (my fav game)(i have Thoughts on the ending however)(but cannot voice them for spoiler purposes)

waY too much food

teen angst rant, which would be permissable had it not been for the fact that i am twenty three years of age

edible wearing off. half an edible

watch hit sitcom malcolm in the middle while waiting for it to kick in

it doesn't

ANOTHER one and a half edibles

it starts. to kick in

start my horrific psychological torture experiment (watching drrr while high)

episode 2. thots: izaya is a horrible person good fucking god he is a horrible person. i wonder if he would laugh at me if i was one of his suicide gorls

probably not because im not wishy washy about the subject and have been quite committed for 13 miserable years. i spent 13 years at the suicide factory, my blorbo should like me back in return

13 years god damn. my teen angst is old enough to have teen angst of its own

The Edibles. Continue To Kick In

herein i vomit and cry for the sweet embrace of a tulpa

"what's a tulpa" if you dont live on embarassing me island you will not ask me of this. this is documented. its on pluralpedia just go. begone with you!!!

i vomit some more!

i then stagger into bed and pass out.

and i upset the tulpa.

and the episode i watched WASNT EVEN SHIZUO'S EPISODE!!!!

all in all a pretty well rounded trip. 1/10 not enough shizuo

[paverics]

avatrice au’s nobody asked for but they live rent free in my head and I have spent so long thinking about them that I’ve mentally built very specific lore for each other them:

- ava loves milfs. beatrice has a mom. do the math. (stacy’s mom but with avatrice ending)

- just regular nuns without the superhero shit and world eating entities

- anti gay summer camp but without the trauma. less miseducation of cameron post, and more campy but i’m a cheerleader

- basically the plot of do revenge or john tucker must die

- beatrice is a doctor who moves into the small town. ava is her frequent patient because she truly (genuinely) can’t stop accidentally hurting herself

- something something war, something something star, crosses lovers slash leaders of opposing factions. telling the clexa gorls to shut the fuck up

- beekeeper beatrice. i have zero other coherent thoughts on this one. mind blank. legs open. maybe ava is…a bee? something. i don’t fucking know

- soccer au

- literally anything horror related. love me a final girl. camping in the woods. slasher shit. mystery killer picking them off one by one. no ghosts or hauntings though because boring

- accidental murder of adriel or vincent (dealers choice) but half of the gorls are the cops and the other half did it

- something about the 40s but their husbands have gone to war

- ava and beatrice are both moms but their kids keep bullying each other so they meet up in a denny’s parking lot to bare knuckle fist fight and end up kissing each other on the mouth instead

just so, so many outlandish and insane scenarios that will not give me peace

[thatonecoryosimp]

c!Dream x Assasian!Reader (unfinished smut)

Hello, my lovelies! So this was an idea I had whenever I was bored. I was thinking about the reader being hired by Wilbur to hopefully 'take care of' Dream but it not going to plan. Also, I ordered the new Dream merch because I'm a material gorl.

Warnings: Objectification, use of the word slut and fuck toy, unfinished. (If you want me to write the actual smut I will).

7/16/22

The job was supposed to be simple. A quick in and out and then I would be paid. I didn't fear him. I never did. He was nothing more than a man that relied on people's weaknesses.

But then he grabbed me. Holding my wrist right as the dagger pressed against his neck. His eyes had opened, shining emerald in the moonlight. He looked at me for a second before having the audacity to grin at me. The bastard was smiling.

His grip tightened until I dropped the diamond weapon.

"You couldn't have picked a better weapon? That's a bit pathetic, don't you think?"

My other hand came to take a swing at him but he caught that one too.

"You don't know when to stop, huh?"

He held both my wrists with one hand as he grabbed the dagger and sat it to the side. A look of panic crossed my face as he pulled me to him.

"Now, why would Wilbur send such a gorgeous woman to do his dirty work?"

I must have given him a confused look because he laughed and pulled me on top of him.

"You're forgetting that all letters that are sent go through my kingdom."

I am such a dumbass.

His face got close to my ear, his hand brushing away the stray hairs.

"I could have you killed for this."

My breath hitched and he chuckled again.

"But, I'm not going to. It would be such a shame to put someone like you to waste."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Make you my live-in slut."

"You're fucking crazy if you think that I'm going to agree to that!"

"Oh, so you want to die? Because that's your only other choice, doll. I'm not all bad, I'll treat you well." His lips were now ghosting down my neck to the cut in my shirt. "All you gotta do is make your decision, I could kill you, or you could live in luxury. Not having to find odd jobs to live, supplied with anything you could possibly desire, and being treated like royalty by my kingdom and staff. You could get fucked whenever you liked, filled up until you're satisfied. Doesn't that sound nice?"

I looked off to the side as he started working his mouth against my neck, slowly sucking on the sensitive skin. The offer did sound nice, but was I willing to let go of my dignity so I wouldn't die?

My head was tilted up as he started working on another spot closer to my collar bone, his hair now being pressed to my lower jaw.

I mean, I don't really need dignity, do I?

"Okay."

He pulled back and smiled, tilting his head a bit, "Okay to what?"

"I'll be your fuck toy."

"Aww, c'mon. You don't have to phrase it like that," his hands started tracing down my sides and underneath my shirt. Pulling the fabric up and over my head, "You're my princess."

~~~

I'm kinda tired ngl. I've been like that a lot recently. I haven't been able to sleep at night even though it's hard to keep my eyes open. It's like my body physically won't let me.

Anyways, stay safe, and drink water.

Love you,

~Jules <3

[sisyphus-prime]

Tag game! Tag nine people you would like to know better

I was tagged by @wall-e-gorl . Ehe silly fun

Last song: I Think I'm Going To Kill Myself - Elton John. Been working on an dnd pc playlist, dude is passively suicidal uwu.

Favourite colour: black? Purple? I've always hated saying purple because, well, violet, but it's a nice color. Pink is nice too.

Currently watching: so the story for Guilty Gear plays like a movie and I think that counts enough.

Sweet/savory/spicy: spicy. I'm a little bitch outside of hot sauces but I fuxking love ghost pepper. I need to stop eating so many sweets.

Relationship status: no bitch wants to qpr with me :3

Current obsession: Guilty Gear but. Specifically the key chick and key face. I love these freaks. He turned blue for his character development

Last thing you googled: would a contract based on the stipulation of favors be more in line with fae or demons. ... I didn't get an answer

No pressure tags: @awful-roffle @lesbian-roguefort @remmybeegoosey or anyone else :3