Author’s Note~ 
Please be mindful that this is an 21+ content page.
If you are not of legal, consenting 21+ age, please move along.


💀 ι ωαѕ вσяη ωιтн αη ιηѕαтιαвℓє αρρєтιтє ƒσя ѕєℓƒ ∂єѕтяυ¢тιση 💀


Knock, knock, let me in. Let me be your secret sin.

Ram Skull + Thorns Divider v2 by ThisPoisonedOne on DeviantArt

tumblr_pmbpghzPwl1rw25fko4_400.gifv?profile=RESIZE_400x‘Strictly business,’ He grins. Swiping the wad of cash from the table with a tattooed hand and depositing the bundle into the inner lined pocket of his leather jacket, Maere’s marblesque countenance tilted back, chin raised smugly. Muscular trunks wrapped in charcoal denims carry the broad-shouldered male towards the exit, inked fingers slicking effortlessly through the dark mop of hair dusting his forehead. A lit fuse, the demon took it upon himself to pay the ferryman a visit.

Storm clouds gathered, dark and foreboding. Obstructing the starless universe from view until he’s swiveling those inhumanly void of emotion optics elsewhere. A delightful young femme with ambitiously blonde hair cut just shy of her shoulders parades herself around with a drink in one hand, stilettos in the other. She’s quite drunk. An easy target if the desire to bed someone this night called to action. But alas, Maere found little interest in the slurring broad.

Settling into the soft leather he tosses the wad of cash into the Torana’s glove box, shifting the vehicle into reverse and cruising out of the parking lot. Remembering that running over drunks wasn’t his idea of a good time on the way out. Once he’s back on the highway, he kicks the Torana into high gear, letting the metal beast purr soothingly beneath him. Light flickers, casting rich shadows across his bronze-kissed flesh. A true nightmare when glimpsed from certain angles.

His cheekbones looked sharper, angrier. Pools of vacancy sweep the open road, memorizing the feel of the asphalt beneath the Torana’s tires, the stillness that lay far beyond what the eye could see. Knotted muscles tightened beneath the leather confines of that leather jacket. A simple addition to his smart-casual ensemble. A faded red sign advertising the roadhouse loomed on the left of the horizon.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Maere slows as he nears the roadhouse driveway, peeling across the loose gravel until he’s able to park. Like a poorly constructed slow motion movie, time slows. His breathing steadies. Hands squeezing around the steering wheel as he sits, letting the animalistic purr of the metal beast dwindle into the background. He shuts off the engine, takes a deep, shaky breath and climbs out, slamming the driver’s side door with more force than expected.

The roadhouse is busy tonight. A ghost of a smile curls the lips of the bartender as she eyes him from behind the bar, fixing a line of shots for a rowdy bunch of middle aged men that reeked of leather and intoxication. Giving the woman a two-fingered flick, he signals for a bottle and a glass to be brought over to his usual booth in the back, passing tables and chairs littered with patrons from all walks of life. Demons, like Maere himself, included.

Ram Skull + Thorns Divider v2 by ThisPoisonedOne on DeviantArt

Who am I?
the Bedtime Spook
Meaning: “Nightmare” in Old English
Relationship Status: Single Available
Sex: Yes Male

7ae5d363d6605920e062ea934b98cadb.gif?profile=RESIZE_400xяσσм 804, мσтєℓ 89

Motel 89’s sign flickered obnoxiously over Room 804.

Maere’s feet dangled over the edge of the shabby but comfortable bed. His frame elongated across the dimpled, musty covers, face partially buried in the lump, twice folded pillow. It’s warmer than expected for this time of year, and especially around these parts. Snow was forecast from tomorrow onward but all they’d seen was rain. Icy pellets of water descending from the broken skies. It was wet, miserable nights like this that would see him sleeping undisturbed. The brutish, demonic snoring drowned out by the bellowing thunder. His unconscious state could be determined by the amount of empty liquor bottles scattered around the room; propped up on the television stand, on the bedside tables, the bench tops. Hell, somehow he’s managed to get a handful in the bathroom sink, the water left inadvertently running at a trickle. 


Ram Skull + Thorns Divider v2 by ThisPoisonedOne on DeviantArt


Maere wore confidence like the Devil wore a suit. With a rise of a shoulder in a nonchalant manner, he shrugs. ‘You may call me God if you wish, but I’d much prefer Daddy.’ There’s a glint of humour behind those void-filled eyes. 😈



10008377494?profile=RESIZE_400xFun Facts

💀 His 'meatsuit' is 30 years of age.

💀 Despite his addiction to self-destructive activities, including sex, Maere's only ever truly loved one woman, Kaephir.

💀 He adores his 1976 canary yellow Holden Torana. 'A real classic beauty.' he calls it.

💀 Maere currently calls Motel 89 home. Home away from home anyway. It's located on the Highway to Hell, literally. The Road opens up and swallows those destined for the fiery pits. 

💀 Underneath that obnoxiously cocky exterior, he's a sweetheart. You just gotta get through all his poorly executed judgement to get there. 

💀 This one time... he went out nightclubbing in a skimpy red cocktail dress after losing a dare. He's never been embarassed to tell that story either. 

💀 He smokes cigarettes that smell of white coneflower. These assist with some of the temporomandibular headaches he gets. 

💀 For a demon, he's not always the smartest or sharpest tool in the shed. 

💀 Baseball is a hobby. However, don't ask him about rules or official teams because he doesn't follow the game religiously. He dabbles in other sports as well. 


Ram Skull + Thorns Divider v2 by ThisPoisonedOne on DeviantArt

 Threads (CLOSED)

Owing ✎ Replied ✔ Plotting  Paused 

  💀 Fia - Club Ecstasy - replied 
  💀 Zach Silva - Somewhere on Earth - owing 
  💀 Nan - Loxley Hotel, Starlet Suite - replied ✔
💀 Scarlett - Paris, France - owe starter ✎
  💀 Moon Moon - owing 
  💀 Mimzi - Ryder's Roadhouse, Route 666 - (paused)
  💀 D R A C U L A plotting - (paused)


*Note: Replies will come at my availability and wait times might be a little longer due to RL stuff atm. Please be patient with me!


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  • The low putter of a motorcycle muffler gurgled onto a loose gravel parking lot, slowing it’s speed until it halted to a stop and the rider dropped her feet down to the earth, balancing herself. The silhouette looked like a shadow until she stopped under a dim light pole. She wore faded Wranglers that hugged her curves, they looked worn and beaten-up but she was fine with that. A black leather jacket with a silver buckle hung on her right side, under that a simple black t-shirt. She wasn’t the fanciest of dressers, but who the hell blamed her, it was her riding gear, stopping at a piss-soaked bar in the middle of no-where. 

    The muffler continued to pop off, spitting out exhaust and the smell of gasoline. She turned off the bike and kicked out her stand and leaned gracefully to unstraddle herself off the beast. A mighty stretch of the arms, the female arched her back for a few seconds. It had been a long ride. Her thighs were sore, back stiff and ass needing a rest from the hours on that goddamn bike. Note to self, new seat. Mama needed a fucking drink. The woman was still wearing her tinted helmet, but quickly unbuckled the strap to push off of her head. Chestnut locks fell from the contraption falling past her shoulders and she ran her fingers through them while the other arm hugged the helmet at her hip, and massaged her head for a second. Not even acknowledging the harsh scent of stale cigarettes and shit beer. She hadn’t even stepped foot into the building. The smell just radiated from the joint.

    Exhaling gruffly, the woman locked her helmet in and tossed her keys in her hand before shoving them into the side pocket of her jacket and made her way into the roadhouse. Opening the door, the muffled clanks, music, bellowing drunken laughter turned riotous. Piercing like a high pitched ring. It didn’t seem to phase her, neither did the strong smell of booze and smoke. Not even going to mention the sour taste of the air. It was utterly foul. Mimzi clicked her tongue before advancing towards the bar, eying up the smirking bartender as she overheard two very intoxicated men rambling about some bitch that took one of their wallets. Mimzi also gave a ghost of a grin before approaching a seat. She just leaned over it, resting her forearms against the cool wooden countertop, 

    “Larceny.” she spoke just above the resounding noise. She thought it seemed fitting for the overheard gossip. A grin formed on her lips as she waited for her drink, and let the bartender know that she was starting a tab and gave her driver’s license for safe keeping. Some bars didn’t care, but it was always a good habit to have. Walking off wasn’t her thing.

    Her left ankle crossed behind her right while continuing to lean on the bar, her bambi eyes scanning the scene around her. Before she knew it, her scotch was in her hands and she looked up, winking in thanks at the woman behind the counter before picking up the cool glass and bringing it to her lips. The smell hit her senses before anything else, hints of butterscotch and toffee below the ever knowing whiff of straight whiskey. The heat was a comfort as it lashed at her tongue before sliding down her throat so smoothly the burn brewed for a few seconds before finding itself. She sighed and tilted her head to the side, savoring her first lick of alcohol in days. It was a new record. Her left toe of her boot tapped the ground gratifyingly before taking another sip, she licked the excess booze from her pouted lower lip while continuing her scene searching. There was so much chaos, but it was quiet. Drunk people tend to not have loud thoughts. They can barely focus on one thing for a few moments. It’s never not amusing to be in places like this. Oh the dreams we’ll have. She was ready, hungry for that one soul she’d leech herself to. Devouring their dreams like a lion attacking its prey.

  • The presence of the other demon could be felt within the sea of people. She could imagine what the handsome bastard looked like because demons and angels, especially demons, enjoyed good looks. It’s how they lured in their victims. Some used it for sex or in general looks. But no demon was ever ugly outside of their true forms. Not from what Fia could see. She didn’t know much about the nightmare demon that lurked around the area, however, it didn’t stop her from being curious. Demons were something that she enjoyed the presence of, and it was probably because she was raised in the depths of Hell. She saw how demons were first-hand and got a taste of being a ‘lover’ of one. Another demon being an incubus. There was an angel thrown into that mess, but he was no match for the demons. None of the others were any match for the demons.

    Over the music, she could hear that voice. “Mm. Someone’s having woman problems.” She cooed lowly. Humans didn’t dare to hear her over the music. If they could read her lips, well lets be real, none of them are paying any attention to her lips. A smirk appeared on her lips as she circled the pole once more. Those crimson hues scanned the crowd once more, locking with those belonging to none other than the nightmare demon himself. “Bingo.” She said, smirk still there. Was he the man she was looking for? Yes. Did she know that? No. But she wasn’t going to pass up on a demon. A tattooed one at that. When he looked around, her head cant to the side a bit causing some of the hair to fall into her eyes.

    Hands gripped the pole once more as she circled around it before gracefully sliding onto the floor. Those hands slid across the floor as she got onto her knees. The very hands continued to slide until her upper half was against the floor with her butt in the air.

    “Fuckin’ women!”

    Those crimson hues stared at the demon in the most longing manner, moreso done to tease him along with her body. “Isn’t that what women want? To be fucked.” She said as she rolled onto her back, arching it to the music while sliding one leg into the air. Her entire focus was on Maere. She was determined to make the demon her next plaything. Even if it were only for the night. Pressing her back against the floor, she lowered her leg back down towards the stage, bending it until her stiletto heels pressed against the flooring. Bending her arms backwards, she pressed them against the stage then skillfully pushed her entire weight up until she was basically flipping herself.

    Except her heels didn’t touch the stage. No, instead they touched the floor off the stage as the music ended. She didn’t know if Maere heard her or not while she was onstage, but it didn’t matter. If he didn’t join the crowd around the stage then she was definitely about to join him, hips swaying as she gracefully moved towards the demon’s table. “Well hello handsome~” She cooed, hands pressing themselves against the table as she leaned over it, eyes locked on him.

    But if she was lucky enough to attract the nightmare demon to the stage then he would end up with her in his lap or if he were standing, her landing in front of him, body pressed against his. Either way, he was going to end up lucky.

  • The music thumped throughout the club. Bodies mingled and collided in a drunken frenzy on the dance floor. Neon lights beamed from the corners where the ceilings met the walls. Under the chairs and the tables of both public and VIP settings. The bar was fancy with the most expensive drinks but there were special made ones for those of the supernatural world. Ones that could actually get them drunk. Some of them held a mysterious glow to them and probably weren’t safe for those in the human world to be drinking.

    Suddenly those neon lights turned red, making the club darker. The lights around the stage were the same red coloring. A black outline of a woman sashayed out on the stage. Her black stiletto heels clicked against the flooring as her hand wrapped around the pole. An aura of both demonic and angelic wafted throughout the club. Crimson red hues looked around for a brief moment. She was looking for someone. But who?

    The moment the music started, she gracefully swung around on the pole, hooking a leg around it while the other stuck straight out. Leaning her upper half back and downwards towards the floor, her long, black hair cascaded like a dark waterfall. For a brief moment, the lights flashed to a brighter red that allowed people to see the woman was wearing nothing but six inch heels, cheeky black shorts that barely covered half her cheeks on both sides, and a bralette that was sheer everywhere but where the nipples were. Sorry to the men in the club! They can’t have free shows. But she’d give them a good look in a more private show. That’s what the private back rooms are for. Available for rent.

    Lifting herself once more, she lowered her feet back towards the ground then strut around on the pole before skillfully lifting herself back onto it. Except this time she wrapped both legs around it, slowly sliding downwards towards the ground. She was graced with flexibility that allowed her to bring her upper half towards the floor until her hands touched it. It was then that she released the pole from her slender legs and bent her lower half towards the ground until she was standing upright once more. Her hips swayed to the music as she mouthed the lyrics. For the most part, it was dark on the stage except for the times when the light randomly flashed bright during her exotic performances. Except… this was for human eyes. Supernatural eyes could see everything without that issue. Of course.

    Those would eyesight that could see in the dark could clearly see a gorgeous, long black haired woman that stood 5'8 (higher with those 6 inch heels) and tanned, tattoooed skin.

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