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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Live like we are Dying; Private, 18+ expect violence, foul language and mature subject matter. Perverts. We know you're watching. | |
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| Topic Started: Wednesday, 2. October 2013, 21:40 (2,162 Views) | |
| Church | Monday, 21. October 2013, 20:12 Post #41 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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I'm a little reluctant to be so unguarded right now. Regardless of how she feels about my face, the distance being close enough that she could mess it up pretty sweet. Same for everywhere else, but what's a lost arm amongst friends? right? She pops the fly open, easing it down, to which I raise an eyebrow. Interesting strategy. Really. It's like she knows me already. So I just keep my guard lowered like a dumb ass, eyes locked with hers until the flicker of chain draws my attention. I watch the ball drop, almost slow motion what with the minimal fuck I give right now. Until I realise her foot is going to connect, and I can't react. She promised she wouldn't hit me in the face, right? Ah no. Not the face at all. Cause as she kicks, I flinch like a little bitch, covering my junk and unknowingly shifting the target up with a step back. Ah...fuck. My...my toes. The bearing crashes into the steel toe caps, and they do their very best to resist the impact but....there's only so much shoe wear can do. I almost wish they hit my face, or snapped the toes clean off. Instead they're just crushed, powdered. Fucking vaporised to dust fragments. "Ooowwie I snarl quietly, moaning as I set my foot down. Limping like a feeble little bitch as she dashes away again. "You fucker you." I take a few painful steps after her, limping on lefty at a cripple drate. Sure not good, considering how much she can move around and keep punishing me. As nice as that sounds, soon I'll be broken and bloody, WANTING to hurt her and unable to catch her. That's gonna suck for me, for her, for everyone. My weary eyes climb the bars, having been signalled by the loose flailing pants falling from a high. Then...I see the blade. I see the blood. Glad to see her twat has gotten somewhat less ridiculous but...jebus...what is she trying to pull here? I creep forward, mouth probably drooling like a hungry dog looking at that magnificent dripping pussy. "Come on down here. Doc'll make it better. And fuckin' devour that sparkle-puss." or lackthereof sparkles but, y'know, I would've eaten that shiny mess all the same. I stop weakly at the foot of the bars, weary to try chasing her cause, frankly, this is her arena now. Her own place of power that I couldn't balance on never mind manipulate on. I'm not all that fuckin' agile and grace she is, I'm just a fucking barbarian. Should've got another weight. No, should've brought a gun. "Come'ere girl. Pretty please. And I'll give yah a fuck like no other, promise." my words are loaded with supernatural charm, something that has backfired before but right now, if she's feeling as good as I am she sure as shit is not gonna fight all that much. "La petite mort mean anythin' to yah?" French? Oh I'm a cultured motherfucker. But when have I ever sampled such an exquisite palette? Not in a long long LONG fucking time. |
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| Mac | Monday, 21. October 2013, 20:38 Post #42 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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He 'owwwied'! And she couldn't help but have to stiffle a laugh at that, her chest rumbling with the crushed noise trying to keep her wits about her and stay all on fire and tempery. His limp was amazingly satisfying, because it meant anything he did for the rest of the night would be laden with that extra dosing of Mac's speciality. Chest, side of his face, leg, that boy was one giant limping ball of hurting. He sure hurt different than she did though, boy got over it real quick... She liked to linger in her pain, push it along, where it seemed like he tried to just overcome it. Bare feet bent to hold her balance on the uneven bars, watching his approach and the look that swept his mangled face when she drew the blade across herself. God that hunger, the way he looked at her... Who the fuck could resist that shit? She loved it, it sent chilling waves up her spine and made her that much more aware of the way her blood coursed through her veins and arteries. Her hands tingled, and she found her mouth parting in her own expression of steely desire. She wasn't going to make it easy on him though, she wanted him to try and come to her...she wanted him to hurt trying to reach her, to give him all that he wanted. That extra dose of hurt.. His words though, they were creeping inside of her as he spoke them. Sliding along her cheek and into her ears, making her numb and dumb as her mind washed with his want. That sounded good didnt it? 'Come 'ere' was like a soft little command that drifted under the dominance radar and simply begged on a level she could respond to... She wanted to. Holy shit did she ever want what he had to offer. Somewhere in the back of her mind though, her subconscious brain was flailing with panic while he was soothing it's sadistic dominance. That subconscious gremlin reminding her not to just give in, even when she was giving in. Might as well make it a shit show while she was at it, make it real worth the trouble. What, step down like a princess and let him devour her? No way. She jumped down on the bar, hands grasping it with her legs spreading wide, pivoting and launching herself at him. She was going to hurricanrana his ass, and then just keep him locked there between her thighs instead of letting him roll free. It was like, a win win. A fucking thrilling to holy hell win win. |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Tuesday, 22. October 2013, 00:19 Post #43 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Well. I sure asked for this. And I know I'm not gonna be disappointed. The few seconds it takes to let things progress as they so excitedly do bur by amidst the foggy ecstasy. My foot hurts, mainly because it's the freshest. But everything else has started to meld into that fuzzy afterburn, settling nicely into an ache that will soothe my cravings for...a while. My mouth. My chest. My back, hands, eye - the blissful agony has faded away quicker than one would like, but I can't let it cripple me. Or yeah, maybe I can. What's she gonna do kidnap me? I don't think I'd mind. How could I not, getting a fantastic view of the Amazonians package, which I humbly accept with a delighted smile. Skullcrushing legs...I let that bear trap clamp on good, not really expecting her weight to be directed into something distinctly Mexican. My feet leave the ground, and through my, uh, otherwise occupied ravenous eyes, I am indifferent about the shift I feel in my axis. I do feel something though; good. Awesome. Not twitching for something to do is one thing, but not burning everything I touch with a head full of fairies, and not missing said fairies to see me through a night, is fairly liberating. She celebrates by putting a crack in my liberty bell. By which I mean my back...it's a metaphor. History...and shit. Those aches I mentioned? suddenly they're crying out in murder. A flash back to that dropkick that I simply ain't tough enough to shrug off, which sure is rare. A bitch slap compared to some ass kickings I've recieved, but still. Bitch got style. Dropkicks, now this? My brain is rattled, I make a noise that is almost laughter, until it descends into a heavy moan. My body twitches with the jolts of bloody joy, my hands grasping up to grasp at her hips or thighs and hang on tight. Yeah...I sure got what I asked for. Fucking... "Yah sure are...a crazy bitch." I wheeze out, complimenting her in my own little way. Licking my lips, getting my grip firmed up if I can. Cause my nose is a-twitching. My mouths a-watering. My brains likely shutting down from one too many knocks and so my dick starts doing the thinking. I feel confident he can take it from here. Yeah...he. "What happened to the moustache?" I mutter, before I part my lips. Unless she wants to fuck me around some more. But who doesn't like getting their junk dined on? Nossies. That's nasty. You think that's nasty? You ain't seen shit. |
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| Mac | Tuesday, 22. October 2013, 04:51 Post #44 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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They hit the ground together, hard. Him on his back, her on her already stinging front. Her body was screaming for relief, both from the constant battering she was giving it and from other built up tension that was on the edge of making her lose her god damned mind. She was prepared for the impact of the ground this time, like the last, so she wasn't left completely devoid of breath in her battered lungs, just a little winded. She took in a deep breathe, letting out somewhat of a laugh as she rolled to look down at Churchs head clasped between her blood slickened thighs. Fuck yeah, that was possibly the coolest moment ever. It may have even just topped The Sparkling on her favorite moments. Flying face hugging vagina! She had other favorite moments in her life, but all of the recent ones seemed to involve this poor fucker that was trapped between her legs. Poor fucker? No, actually... he was -enjoying- everything she dished out, and holy fuck if she wasn't enjoying his ability to dish it back. She'd roll, not letting him get away from her clinging legs. She wanted to be on her back now, as her lungs were a little insistent on not squishing them on her front. The effects of his presence was still floating around inside her cloudy mind, the way his hands clawed up her legs to take purchase on her thighs didn't help her breathing. Jesus christ then he was talking again, god damnit.. that boy just never knew when to quit that mouth. She thought she was bad for rambling, but sure as fuck he was jibber jabbering again. "Mustache itched like fucking crazy. I just did that to fuck with you... PLEASE ... fuck with me..." Like, in the good way. Jesus christ, just get on with it already! Also, did she just...say please? WHAT THE FUCK! She was wound so tight she was worried she'd break, her entire body just wanted what he had to offer. He'd made a damn convincing case with his little spell of Presence, and sure as fuck she thought she'd crawl out of her skin soon. Or just quit and go take a cold shower to get the clouds out of her brain space, she wasn't used to feeling like this at all. She kept her shit about her so much better usually, and she wasn't normally used to dying to be some Fanger's diner. Yet here she was, and holy fuck if she didnt god damned feel amazing when his face stubley and rather bruised and beaten face brushed against her god damned cunt. SHUT UP ALREADY! She was bleeding from the cut on her pelvis into her fucking pussy, take advantage of that mother fucking OFFERING! She gripped a hand in her own hair out of frusteration and gave it a yank. Jesus christ on a pogo stick. "Put that tongue to good use before you lose it." Edited by Mac, Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 00:00.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 20:27 Post #45 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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"How about you lay still for a second you mad fucking cunt?" I growl in retaliation to her 'threat', annoyed by the constant wrestling now cause I'm just trying to give her something beautiful. Something we'll both enjoy - though, like most things we're getting up to, she will enjoy it more. Can't blame me for trying though eh? Trying to get back to a better time. A better feeling. Out of my power by the tiniest measurement...but every fucking time I feel closer. Hell, right now I'm feeling closer than I ever have, and I'm only now getting the pants off. I look down at the gushing blood with a moody frown, far too stimulated and ravenously hungry to be nice about it. I shift on my belly, snaking my arms further around her body and laying my palms firmly on her iron guts. I close my eyes as my tongue dips into the weak trickle of blood, so familiar and appetising despite the unusual properties that make such a potent blend. The kick isn't salty, a usual sign of quality diet. Not that I am picky or a connoisseur when it comes to...well, anything. But gorramit, that dry burn through my system as the spicy mixture flows down my throat in smooth gulps. Hot nectar quenching unquenchable lust. Hopefully she too is started to lose that crazed fever as my cold mouth sets about licking her crotch to a sparkling shine. I'm certain I feel the shivers as I part her with my tongue, a somewhat steady and decisive rhythm degenerating into rabid dog mode. I feast with such enthusiasm and a particular lack of delicacy, know full well that such carelessness can usually cause discomfort to the average chick. But what's average about her? Her pussy has followed suit of being exceptional. While time slips away somewhat as I explore her indepth with my now thoroughly soaked organ, I feel urges building inside my broken body. To get my pants off? Most certainly. I'd love to just dive right in, take her by surprise, and fuck her fucking brains out before she can moan about who is where in the tangle of persons. Somewhat hindered by my hand placement, gently reminding her to stay still for five freaking minutes so I can really get her juices flowin'. This urge is related, though somewhat different. An urge that a lot of men probably have, though it's been sometime since I gave a shit; I want to give her utter satisfaction. Because it's polite? No. Cause this crazy bitch does my body oh so good I know I can't lose her. Even if I haven't gotten up inside her yet. With that thought my frenzied cullilingus rolls to a reluctant stop. I lift my head and my eyes, peering across the scarred and shapely form of her body, to meet her own. "Was that so bad, princess?" What was so bad in my heated whisper remains open to her interpretation. But a trusting Mac is a Mac Church can trust. And with that trust comes the freedom to rock her fucking world. I kiss the wounded pelvis, tracing my tongue across the wound that had already seemed to be on its way to sewing back together. But as rapidly as it vanishes, my fangs plunge into the strong right thigh of hers. Hands holding firmer, though they took the time to cradle her leg exclusively, caressing it as my tongue sets back to work, massaging the blood from her meaty limb. The word spicy just don't cut it. |
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| Mac | Wednesday, 23. October 2013, 22:34 Post #46 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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The cinching in of his hands on her body stings, fingers pressing into her bruised stomach. That alone turns her on, the entire fucking night leading up to this? Jesus, she was as ready as one could possibly be... Probably more ready for a good fucking than she'd ever been before. She wasn't no saint by any stretch, she'd fucked her way through half the pack when Marco needed entertainment... None of it felt like this though, never the weeks long lead up, the want...the -choice-. She'd had a choice in this whole mess, and she'd chosen to antagonize him into hunting her. She'd then chosen to lead him right into her fucking home. Doc made her stupid on so many levels, but she really didn't care at that moment. She'd chosen this fucking mess and holy shit she wasn't going to second guess it, not with the foggy haze in her head and the burning rage of her body demanding she just enjoy the ride. When his tongue first goes to work she can't help the response she gives, arching in her hips and and driving herself downwards into the lapping of his tongue. The descent into a more primal regard for her nethers just makes it that much better, and her breathing slowly slips from trying to be controlled and carefully managed to completely off kilter and dizzy. She was wet and slick in the best kinds of ways, her core so fucking hot that his cold grip and cool skin was fucking relief from the mounting tension. Her heartbeat was a rapid thunder, body tense all over on the edge of something -better-. That's when he stopped, like a beast that knows exactly when to pause to cause the best sort of torture. She'd look down to him, hazel eyes half blankly staring from the point of no return. Yeah, she was going to get in so much trouble for this Fanger wasn't she? "Was that so bad, princess?" His words made her laugh, and she'd toss her head back to get her dreads out of her face completely, pin them behind her... watch his between her legs and hope she wasn't staring like a drowned puppy being saved. Slow down Mac... "Fuck Doc, you're all the right kind of Bad." A shattery breath draw in as he slipped up over her pelvis, that cool tongue sliding along the now shallow cut and causing it to knit together quicker. That moment happened almost in slow motion, like something she wanted to put to memory. Broken face, jaw off kilter, bruises from his chest just barely visible as he healed... God, he was a beautiful creature, especially with her blood on his tongue. Then his fangs were biting into her thigh, and she was yelling his name "Church..." out with that wash of bliss. Was she yelling for him to stop? Or go on... Oh fuck, go on of course. "Fuck... Yes..." She was a screamer, ain't nothing about her that came quietly. Good thing the brick walls were thick. The night would descend into a fury of blood, fucking, and all the right kind of hurting. A haze of red and white, moments of nearly passing out as time slipped away in a drug like wash of pain and satisfaction. Downtime spent gasping and recovering, until they'd just antagonize each other into intimacy again. Each time he'd feed it would just get her that much more light headed, make her come harder, make it that much better... Somewhere she'd wonder if that wasn't the plan, fucking orgasm her to death? (Leads into...)When had the sun came up? |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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3:19 PM Jul 11