Father Paul Beneath You Writhing, Eyes Brimming With Tears, And Whimpering Like A Little Bitch, Send

could I cry in your lap maybe

I need marks sucked into my neck now

next time I see my girl I need to leave her house covered in hickeys only I can see

I need him carnally

Fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave bruises would maybe fix me...

I miss when I would get Tumblr asks that actually said things and weren't just digital panhandling scams.

I need to ride joey till he cries

specifically older joey, he makes me rabid

Alright intro post time babyyyy

>Call me Dove!

>18

>Bi and Ace

> she/he/they

>I'm taken :)

>I occasionally write fanfics (not very good at writing but still enjoy it!)

>Don't really have a DNI other than I don't want minors following me, overall just don't be an ass and you won't get blocked

>This will mostly be an nsfw based blog

>Feel free to send asks or dm me if you wanna chat and be friends/mutuals! Just please be mindful that I don't know you and may be a little closed off at first

~~~~Additionally, don't just send a "hi" or "hey" with nothing else as I likely won't respond with much, say something that can spark a conversation! Or just ask to be friends/mutuals flat out, it’s easier!

>I'm in many fandoms that I'll likely post about

~~~~Ex. Slipknot, Supernatural, Jujutsu Kaisen, Murderdolls, Midnight Mass, Silent Hill, Wednesday13, Stray Kids, Bioshock, etc.

>This is maily a place to ramble like a madman about characters and things I find hot, feral posting if you will

Will update this post as time goes on :3

mirror —ghost

—summary: The summer heat has you slipping between sleep and reality. Something not-so corporeal helps you cool off.

—warnings: ghost x human, monsterfucking, piv sex, mirror sex (technically), creampie, dubcon/somnophilia.

—word count: 1,3k

—a/n: no thoughts just horny. also on AO3

The best thing about living alone, you’ve come to realize, is the privacy. You’re free to do whatever: take your time in the bathroom in the morning or whenever you want, spend an eternity soaking in the claw-footed tub this house came with, walk around your home in the skimpiest clothing imaginable (not only does it help to beat the summer heat, it also (technically) leaves you less laundry to do), splay out on your king-sized bed in a starfish position, limbs akimbo, drag the full-length mirror in your bedroom in front of your bed and stare at the way any dildos you own get swallowed up by your greedy cunt.

No point in wondering why the last owner was in such a rush to get rid of it; so much so that he accepted well below market price for a freshly renovated, fully-furnished house with a moderate backyard in a relatively safe neighborhood.

The longer this heatwave lasts, the skimpier your clothes get. There’s barely any fabric to cling to your constantly sweat-slick skin by this point, just a tiny skirt hiked so far up your bare skin touches the wooden chairs when you sit and a shirt that’s more spaghetti straps than torso. The huge, double-door fridge is a reprieve, cool air billowing out and caressing your heated skin. It almost feels like a genuine caress, like someone’s cool hands sliding down your body.

Seriously, you need to get out of the house and meet people instead of fantasizing about the cool touch of your fridge. But the outside is infinitely hotter than the inside.

You kick the bedsheet away from your body, grumbling at the lingering day heat. You’d stripped the sheet from the duvet the moment spring chill had plunged into summer heat and stuffed the latter into the closet until fall. Even then, you tend to wake up without the sheet in the morning, finding it crumbled on the floor. Yesterday was another sweltering day. It has left the air stuffy and the fans only push the warm, stale heat around without providing any relief. You unplug them in a fit of frustration and cringe at the feeling of moisture when you lay against your pillow again.

Sleep doesn’t completely evade you but you’re not fully asleep, either. You think so, at least. There are moments of brief blackouts, where you open your eyes and turn to look at the time only to find not even an hour has passed. Your eyelids feel heavy.

Then, there are the hands on your body. Caressing, petting, groping. They’ve been there for some time now, just touching, feeling. They’re not cold, just cool enough to feel pleasant against your heated skin and inject some relief into your sluggish thoughts of sun and heat. A sigh escapes your lips at the sensation. Fingertips trance the expanse of your skin, draw constellations between your moles and freckles. The other hand moves to rest on your breast. It kneads the soft flesh, gently pinches your nipple between its fingers, runs a thumb over it.

You inhale sharply, heart thrumming in your chest, pressing your thighs together. It does little to quell the desire for friction, or touch. The hand tracing its fingertips down your body reaches your hip, then skirts across your flesh to rest on the inside of your thigh. You blink languidly; the heat is stifling, your head feels thick.

Cool fingers dip between your legs, press against your clit like — like they’re what? Testing the waters. You stifle the half-baked moan in the back of your throat.

The hands leave you all at once and you croak out a sound that doesn’t even sound like you, desperate and needy. They’re back not even a moment later, though, heavy on your hips as if they’re trying to guide you. You reach for a pillow and prop it under yourself. It’s a nice dream, you don’t need it to end because it forces you into an uncomfortable position that drives home the realization that it’s a dream. Because then you’ll wake up, alone again.

Something thick and heavy rests on your pelvis. Maybe this makes you a bad sex partner in this brief dream but you don’t want to reach out and touch it, guide it. If it’s your dream, your partner should know the where and how. The cool hands planted firmly on your hips pull you forward just slightly and the weight from your pelvis disappears. It rests against your entrance, but doesn’t push forward just yet. One hand leaves you and the tip of its cock drags through your slick folds, bumps against your clit.

“Please,” you croak, staring at the ceiling. Your throat is dry.

The stranger’s cock angles itself against your entrance and pushes in carefully. You take a slow, deep breath in, try to relax around the pleasant intrusion. The hands — under your knees now, guiding your legs apart. A body presses against your thighs. Whoever it is, stops, pauses for a moment. You clench around the cock buried in your cunt. A cold, shuddering breath hits you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. The hands push your knees further apart until there’s an ache in your muscles, and then they depart, one finding a spot on your waist, the other your breast.

It moves, then. The cock nestled deep within you sharply pulls back and thrusts in again. You scramble for anchor, to grab onto something but all you come up with is sheet that tugs loose. Their pace is dizzying, thighs slapping against yours, cock plunging into your wet cunt. The sound is so wet and lewd and goddamned loud in the still silence of your home. You go to stifle the half-moan half-groan in your throat but— wait, it’s your house, your dream, who gives a fuck about the neighbors? The cock in your cunt pulls nearly all the way out and thrusts in again and hits that spot, so good, dragging against your slick walls and you swear you feel every groove and dip, every goddamn vein. Your moan slips out involuntarily, and whoever it is here with you, seems invigorated.

The hand on your breast leaves, a forearm rests around your thigh, pulling it up and — fuck, their cock drives in so incredibly deep you nearly choke on your own spit. You scramble upwards, resting your weight on your elbows to look at your partner —

There’s no one there. Your bedroom is empty. But there’s a hand on your torso, cool fingers digging into your flesh and a forearm supporting your thigh and the shape of someone’s shoulder against your Achilles’ tendon. There’s a cock plunging into your cunt and you hear someone’s labored breathing.

The full-length mirror skids across the laminated floor and stops in front of your bed. Something invisible is thrusting into your pussy, gaping back at you in the reflection. Your face burns — your whole body burns. You can’t look away from the debauchery staring back at you. Whoever — whatever — it is, thrusts harshly, cold hands pulling you against their body. Your thighs are wet and sticky, slamming against theirs, your hole gaping back at you, being abused by something you can’t see. It sends you hurtling over the edge.

You come around the phantom cock with something reminiscent of a shriek and a moan and terror and pleasure all combined. Your cunt clenches around the thing your muscles sore and sweat beading on your skin. The cock plunges into you again and again and again and you blink back the tears and the fear and the overwhelming pleasure. The fingers on your body dig into your flesh and the cock nestled in you buries deep, thighs pressing against your own, and spills. It’s so warm, so pleasant. The mirror skids closer, right until it touches the edge of the bed.

Your cunt is forced wide open. Stuffed. The pearlescent cum coats your walls, oozes out from inside you, dribbles onto your bedsheets. The cock in you stays there but the body moves.

A small fogged patch, like warm breath, appears on the mirror, and then, letters.

Hi :)

Oh. So that's why this place was so cheap.

banners by @/cafekitsune

going to bed with a vibe in your cunt, maybe you have a late morning tomorrow and want to make yourself extra needy.

you’ve ignored the rumor that your house is haunted. maybe you shouldn’t have. it definitely is.

in the middle of the night, when you’re too sound asleep to notice, they converge on your bed. the vibrator is turned on, happily buzzing away inside you. one of their skills is keeping humans asleep, so they aren’t concerned about you waking up and spoiling the fun.

over the course of the night, you’re stuffed with cock after cock, and sometimes more than one at once. they can pass through each other easily enough, but your hole still has to stretch to accommodate them.

at one point, you turn over onto your stomach, and the true frenzy begins. they prop your hips up and your knees apart and fuck you into the mattress.

your sleepy little moans only spur them on, filling you with their ghostly cum. it drips out of you even while you cockwarm them. you don’t get to cum, that’s not why they’re pounding into you relentlessly.

in the morning, you would be none the wiser if not for the aching emptiness of your pussy and the ectoplasm still leaking from you. and of course, the vibrator, still happily buzzing on as it drives you into your first orgasm of the day before you can even yawn.