Death-sama123 - Death-sama123

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.

Sallie May/Striker + Our Tremors AU /eyebrow waggle

send me prompts for mini hazbin hotel and/or helluva boss fics!

A/N: I was going to do something more serious but the idea wasn’t cooperating, so you get this instead. 

“You want us to run?” Sallie May asks, looking from Blitzo to Moxxie and then to Striker. Throughout this whole ordeal, she hasn’t had much faith in either Blitzo or Moxxie, as it seems to be sheer dumb luck that’s gotten them this far. Striker, on the other hand, seems to know what he’s doing, and she can hope he has a better idea. 

“Do you have a better idea?” Blitzo asks, gesturing wide and vaguely around them. “‘Cause we’re kinda running outta fucking options here.” 

“He’s got a point,” Striker says, and Sallie May gapes at him. “Sometimes all that’s left t’do is run.” 

“Y’all can’t be fuckin’ serious,” she groans, pinching at the bridge of her nose. 

“As the plague, darlin’,” Striker says with a grin. “It’ll be fine, trust me.” 

And before she can protest any further, he’s holding a pistol out toward her. “Here. You can take this, if it’ll make you feel any better.” 

Despite the situation, she happily accepts the weapon. “Well, maybe it does. Just a little.” In situations like this, the little things have to count. 

“Good girl,” Striker grins, and gives her hip a pat with the spade of his tail. 

The plan from thereon out is as simple as it sounds: abandon one safe place for another, and make a mad man’s dash across open desert to do it while the things underground are distracted. The distraction won’t last long, and there’s a chance it won’t even work on all the worms, but it’s better than staying in one place and waiting to die. 

Running seems to be working, and it’s a moment of adrenaline that makes Sallie May try to take a crackshot at a dust cloud not too far away. She pulls the trigger, the hammer clicks, and clicks, and clicks. 

When they reach their newest safe space, she all but throws the pistol back at Striker, hitting him in the chest with it. 

“You asshole!” she pants, snarling at him. “There ain’t no bullets in that gun!” 

Striker grins at her, casually twirling the gun about his index finger before holstering it. He winks, using his tail to stroke her cheek teasingly. 

“Gotcha runnin’ though, didn’t it?” 

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

Day 17

I'm new

Hi everyone I hope you guys like my drawings and I'm new to this app I'm still trying to do things in here so be patient with me