Tokyo Ghoul Nails Novels & Stories

- Phoebe can feel each big nail stuck into her body, sometimes Vampire's senses have caused her to suffer many times more pain than typical now. Two nails pierced both shoulders, and both arms were also pierced with two nails on each side. The middle part of the chest was pierced by a large nail, and the thighs, the ankles, and almost everywhere were stabbed deep inside the body. The large nails that pierced Phoebe's body fixed her to the wall. The blood oozing from the wound had become a pool on the floor.

The strongest of his attacks then came down. Kayson barely avoided it and suddenly asked, “Do you know Ground-Scrincan?” “I’ve heard of it. It’s an elusive technique of the Shamanian Society,” Ghoul Sword answered with a frown. Kayson suddenly let go of Celeste’s hand and dashed forward, shocking Ghoul Sword, who went flying at the collision before he could attack. “Ugh!” Ghoul Sword’s nose was broken alongside a few of his ribs, and he began to cough blood.

Moon beams after a while, taking Joanthan's palm in his own hands carefully to blow softly on the fresh-painted nails. Jonathan lifts his hand to watch the pink nail polish shine under the light of his living room. In fact, it shines too much—wait, is that glitter? He wants to laugh because he's not even surprised. Of course, Moon would choose a pink nail polish with glitter. It's so moonlike, really.

It must be covered in chloroform. Gripping the nail tightly, preparing myself to fight.

"You drive me crazy." With one swift motion, Alessia found herself flipped to her back, her thighs spread wide to surround his taught, muscular body. Alessia's eyes widened as she took in the sight of Nicolai's naked body for the first time. His skin was a canvas of intricate tattoos, each one telling a story of his past. Muscles rippled beneath his flesh, a testament to his strength and power. But it was his cock that drew Alessia's attention, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. She gasped as she noticed the piercing, a small metal barbell that winked in the moonlight. Nicolai palmed himself, stroking his length as Alessia watched with undisguised hunger. "Like what you see, mo

My body hasn’t fully recovered from that and I didn’t know if I could handle another bullet today. The rogue rested his forefinger on the trigger but before he could pull it, a shadow dropped from the trees above. It was so swift, almost like a monkey swinging from branch to branch. My eyes widened in shock when I realized what it was; a body that was slightly bent down, sunken rounded eyes, fingers stretching into long sharp talons, razor-like teeth, and skin that wrapped around the bones like molten rubber—it’s a ghoul.

I couldn’t tell which. Thick mascara, eyeliner winged out to the heavens. Silver piercings dotted both ears, a nose ring, and God help me, I was pretty sure he had a tongue piercing too, because every chew of the bubblegum made a tiny metallic click. And his nails? Black paint polish. Chipped. On purpose. He looked like he’d walked out of a gothic rock music video and stumbled into a nursing home by accident. I cleared my throat. “So… uh… who exactly are you?”

The ghost looked at me with pleading eyes. "Those are talismans of Gong tau," Miyako whispered; Chinese black magic. "Those are finger bones," the friendless one added. Smashing them seemed like the sane thing to do. Pamela wouldn't have liked that excuse. I held up each trinket before the ghost. The first one - nothing. The second one - pleading. The third one - nothing. I had to be sure. I smashed the second one. The ghost's shape rippled then began to fade.

She said sighing. Maya had smirked and cracked her knuckles. “Time for the real prep.” And so began the ordeal. First, the nails. Glossy black with thin silver detailing that curled like smoke across each fingertip, Maya’s design, obviously. “The nails are also an accessory Drasa. They have to match.” She said while fixing them with some dry-quick glue.

Then, I grab a specialized grenade—pull the pin, toss it, and duck. The explosion scatters a spray of sharp, medium-length nails—small enough to pack a dozen into the grenade, yet long enough to shred through flesh. Their lightweight armor is no match; the nails punch right through. For good measure, I toss two more. When I roll out from cover, knives at the ready, the floor is littered with bodies—nails jutting from their lifeless forms. But as I move to stand, a searing pain shoots through my left thigh. A single nail has pierced me, its tip jutting from my leg. The desk behind me is covered with them. Lucky. Just one.