𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹

𝙩𝙝𝙚 Lestat de Lioncourt roleplay blog

[eladead]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤELADEAD

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤBUT WE SURE AS HELL

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤYOU ARE GOING TO LOVE MY SHOW

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLESTAT DE LIONCOURT

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCARRD || RULES || VERSES

@glxryfallen; @kidfrommodesto; @withlingeringrespect; @devourcr @shesnipes @brightreporterwithapointofview ; @popularmxnster ; @fckindiabolicxl; @horherr; @monbellemonstre;@embersrevived;@osculumabmor ; @minaharkerdailymirror; @angelicxcambion; @topshelfperverts

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤimmortal companions

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ@shesnipes; @tooth--ache ; @kxllerblond ;@suredid

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ @bloodsalted; @garglemyballsack; @osculumabmor

exclusives: dean winchester w/@bloodsalted;

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤcome find me also: @kosiax ; @ploytofino; @tragedine & 1 secret blog upon unlocking LVL 10 friendship ;)

[kxllerblond]

This was a delicate situation and it was increasingly clear that there was more to navigate here than a mere nap. Clark remained silent and then nodded once and eased back onto the pillows, tugged at Lestat afterwards to pull him down as well as if they were to be co-conspirators in some secret conversation.

❝ I can't undo whatever marks people have left on you, Lestat. I know that it's not that simple, trust me. But I-— ❞ He exhaled a sigh and twisted there on the bed until he was fulling facing the vampire.

❝ I wouldn't leave you like that. Suddenly. And I've told you, alright? Even if we grow distant in the way of lovers or partners, I wouldn't abandon you. I'm afraid you're quite stuck with me unless you choose to turn and dip. ❞

He shifted more onto his back now and invited Lestat closer. ❝ I don't... like when people perform for me. My life, my biological existence, is just that. It's performing. It's so tiring, Lestat. I want real, I want genuine. I want the good and the bad as long as it's real. ❞

More shifting to get the both of them comfortable. He allowed an arm to wrap around the vampire's back and left the other free to either rest above his own head when idle or to roam Lestat when not. He tucked a bit of hair away behind an ear. Clark's near flat tone remained but it was softer, lower.

❝ You don't need to perform for me and I'm... well, I'm sorry you've been made to feel that way by others. And by the by? You are already rocking above average scores in all of those departments anyway. ❞

He dropped his hand to smooth along a cool cheek, let his thumb rest there to stroke idly. ❝ I know the whole point of any turned creature is a loss of self or humanity or whatever-— but you're so, so very human to me, Lestat, and you have no idea how much that draws me in. ❞

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: the rockstar falls next to his lover and stares at his profile until it shifts to Clark's full face. He reaches for him, to touch him, to feel the outline of his chest and his neck, and then the underside of his firm jaw. The dream is real and the cambion is here. He is warm, Lestat remarks to himself again as he scoots closer, so incredibly warm. The blue icicles for irises flick up to the warm ocean cascading over him. Lestat's fingertips hesitate by Clark's eyebrow and shed to his bicep instead, outlining the pronounced, relaxed muscle.

"I don't want to grow distant." The singer whispers back. It is almost inaudible if not for the dead silence of his bedroom. Clark's voice coats his ears with gentle wax that shuts out the world around them. The overwhelming feeling of being alive and dead at the same time begins to subside, and the rockstar feels his breath pass in his still lungs. He begins to nod slowly, focused on painting his gaze across his lover's body before he is invited to become the missing puzzle pieces. The vampire's face presses to Clark's chest. He nuzzles the cambion like a burrowing mole. His arms travel over and around the man's body, encompassing his torso into a tight embrace.

"It's a great challenge to be real." Lestat chuckles solemnly. It feels like every breath he takes outside of his very bedroom is a performance. He forgets what the real Lestat feels like. And the real Lestat is the ugliest of them all. A duckling that forced itself to turn into a swan. He should have been dead such a long time a ago, over three hundred years, and now what? He rubs his cheek across Clark's skin, animated with each passing touch of the cambion's hand. "Ahh, so I pass the most difficult Clark test." The vampire is playiful, somewhat in uplifted spirits now that he gets to have the cambion in his bed to cuddle up with. Naps, or short-lived slumber is an insignificant endeavor for a being that slowly begins to grow accustomed to not sleeping. The vampire distances himself from the need to replenish strength through a dark coma during the day. But Lestat requires this brief shut eye. It is a routine that practices the most sacred thing he refuses to give up: meaningful intimacy. He craves it more than most of his ancient counterparts. And the lack of it manifests in violent behavior. How could you blame him? This loneliness is devastating.

His eyes prickle a little when Clark's word reach to nick the cold, still heart. It beats from the ripples of a living being so close, a mere inch away. His sigh is hitched and breath crumbled. His eyelids lower to catch a red droplet of a tear. He turns his face and kisses along Clark's chest, slowly and tenderly. Lestat doesn't know what to say. His first instict is to protest, and yet now, with the cambion so close, all Lestat wishes to do is worship every inch of his body for words a monster stands undeserving of. "You are my gift. My miracle." The rockstar whispers, sniffling his boiling emotions against Clark's skin.

[bloodsalteds]

beads of wet gather against the corners of dean's mouth as he sinks lower, swallowing him to the point of damn near choking. his ascent up? tongue presses tight and he moans at the taste hungrily devouring every inch of his mouth and turning the flavor of skin and want addictive. something he'll hunger later to the point he'll have a fist wrapped around himself, muffling his moans with the crook of his arm as he cums on cheap motel sheets that'll get wadded up and tossed in an overworked maid's hamper when she passes by. he'll save that for weeks from now. when the memory keeps resurfacing, dragging him under. sending a shock up his spine that plays out in real time now.

as his lover's low voice encourages him with words and demands more with a guiding hand, the belt tightens just enough around his throat that he ends up moaning as a tendril of spit runs down the side of his chin. this time? he lifts both hands up, fingers clutch lestat's thighs desperately and he feels the solid, blunt tip hit the back of his throat. tears swell up behind thick eyelashes and stick there when those dazed eyes open and stare blindly up the length of a paled, scarred torso at the blond who breaches that stop and slips into his throat.

the moan lestat draws out of him is deep. thick. caves in his gut.

the strain's visible. he hasn't taken him that deep yet. brows knit together and he sucks and swallows causing the muscles of his neck to put his full efforts on display as they work harder, harder not to let him choke. dean's nails turn into black leather, clutch as nostrils flare in his attempt for air. devotion on display no matter how pathetic he might look on his knees, leashed for the vampire. a monster he should've killed upon sight. and yet? now? his cock's buried in his throat to the point if barely being able to breathe and he wants more. needs more--and takes it with a growing want that teeters on the edge of obsession.

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: no one would believe Lestat if he were to grab his microphone and announce to the world what Dean is doing between his thighs. He smiles at the notion of such mythology. It is a privilege to even swallow his cock, and now there is another variable to a good time. His head tosses back when a warm mouth stains him. His golden tresses cascade behind him like a curtain, hiding the painting from the back. His knees part wider just before Winchester grabs ahold of his firm muscle, letting the hunter closer. The belt shudders as Lestat tightens his grip, his cock twitches in response, suddenly too eager to feel every wet inch of Dean's tongue. Lestat's eyes flutter as he forces himself to observe from this angle with a lopsided grin. The sight alone could make him finish.

A flash of tainted green kisses his abdomen and Lestat curses. The pads of his fingers dance over Dean's scalp, caressing the good hunter as a reward for a good start to his work. The hunger with which he works on Lestat is duly noted. The vampire presses his lips into a tight line, pleased with the stretch of the mortal's mouth. He remembers the threats that used to pour from the same tongue that swirls the underside of his cock now. The same vocal cords which vibrated with horrible passes at the rockstar, now obediently sing inside a throat that swallows. "Fuck," Lestat sighs, slumping on his chair. "Fuck, baby." A bit louder now, fascinated by the turned tables in their gamble. The pleasure peaks at Lestat's snicker. It tickles his gut where a string coils around his body, becoming taut. Dean works on him like his entire mortal life depends on it, and the vampire dares himself to erupt into cashmere laughter while tugging on the leash to corner the hunter at a choice: either he continues to suck, or lose access.

"It's all yours," the rockstar grins, lifting one leg to hoist it over Dean's shoulder and draw him nearer. The sole of his boot could kick someone's head in, but now it sways in rhythm of the bobbing head. He clenches his jaw, sneering from pleasure as his hand twists the hunter's hair. Lestat's hips move on their own, bucking at the best angle in an attempt to, perhaps, kill the hunter where he sits pretty on his knees. The vampire's grip on the leash loosens slightly as he becomes momentarily distracted by the filthy cacophony rising from where Dean's mouth traps his shaft. He is entranced by it. Symbolically? This is a kink for him: to have a hunter choking on his dick without a single tool available to him to turn the game around and kill a bloodsucker. Emotionally? This is his companion. "My god, baby, don't stop-" Lestat's whisper is beyond control. He thinks of Dean's importance, and suddenly something as simple as a blow job becomes ritualistic. Lestat shudders as a ripple warms his stomach and his head grows heavier, now rounding the back of his chair as a stuttered moan flies from behind his parted teeth.

[kxllerblond]

Clark watched Lestat leave-— reluctantly so. The searching look had been met with...? Not a wall in the sense it was something meant to keep the vampire out or to protect something inward, but a wall in the sense that he was sturdy and steadfast. There was no doubt to be had, no brewing cruelty for Lestat to find in that impassive and walled expression.

By the time the blond had settled in the bed, Clark was entering as well. On one arm was draped his outfit and the other hand held his tie and smaller accessories like his rings and cufflinks. The latter was left delicately on the nearest flat surface and he then went about folding each article of clothing until that too was rested next to the small pile.

He was left comfortably in simply his boxer briefs. Realistically, he surely had left behind some sort of lounge clothing there at the penthouse, but he hadn't felt inclined to take the time to look.

❝ What an expression you're making. ❞ He hummed gently and trailed around the other side to slip into the bed until the blankets was also resting there in his lap. ❝ You're posed as if you were waiting for me to come back from a war I'd never come back from. ❞

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: when the footsteps draw nearer the bedroom, Lestat somewhat sits up. A moment ago, he was convinced that maybe the door will shut and Clark will make up an excuse to leave. He always has meetings, some endeavors. It does not matter as long as the manager of the Vampire Lestat can solve a bunch of fires. It's a hobby, it's a job. Enters Clark, entirely undressed before joining Lestat in his bed, as promised. The vampire watches his lover draw nearer. The heat of his body pools over the rockstar like relieving balm. He breathes in the scent that wafts over. The scent of home.

He blinks when Clark inquires about his expression. Is it obvious that he is surprised that the cambion is here? What an odd mood to be in. Lestat looks over Clark's shoulder, shrugging as he leans in closer to press his lips atop of the warm curve. The cambion's skin is soft like a row of pillows behind them. The vampire draws nearer, eager to wrap his arms around the man even before they are ready to lay down for the shared endeavor. "I just thought," Lestat mutters, looking up. "Sometimes, I think you will leave." His confession is quiet as he searches Clark's eyes. "I wonder if I have to perform better. Love you a little bit harder, look more attractive. Maybe, if I am…funnier. Or if I have to get better at sex, or give you a raise. I just have this," he pauses, looking down at his hands.

"Compulsion to give you more reasons to stay. So when I don't change anything it's just…It just feels like I am losing you." Lestat bites his lower lip, digging his teeth as much as he can in order to avoid the sting of shame. He doesn't mean to get like this before a nap. But his mind has been fuzzy and he has been clinging to Clark a lot more as of late.

[cainevesson]

Payback for the nerves Lestat killed in the past? Could be one of the reasons Cain does what he decided to do, or the vampire can tell himself that if it makes him feel any better. He should be grateful that the demon lets him live. And perhaps his grudging willingness to entertain Cain is a twisted token of his gratitude therefor— The latter observes the rockstar's motions, his eyes not averting when said star stands before him. Cain cants his head slightly. Remains seated all the same. Lestat poses no threat. Another fly he could swat in a blink. And even if he were? Good for the demon who would welcome death rather than fear it. "You're free to throw me out. But you didn't", he tosses in, Lestat's complaints hardly convincing anymore.

Well, the vampire has a point; it certainly is odd for a demon of all creatures to criticize integrity or a lack thereof. So he doesn't stifle a fleeting chuckle, which is gone the second Lestat actually deigns to give him an answer. Once again he spots this vague glimmer he's managed to see before. When they teamed up due to lack of options.

"Fine, I might've been wrong to assume familial issues got you into this cursed existence", precedes a slow nod. Before restlessness captures Cain too, and he rises from the seat to move one or two steps past Lestat. Behold the city at night. "Was it your choice?" There's no taunt in his voice. There's a part in him influenced by a certain angel that wants to believe in valid reasons why he shouldn't blindly slay every 'monster' he encounters. He shoots the vampire a glance over his shoulder. "Becoming a vampire, I mean."

[eladead]

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆:Lestat's temper is short-circuited by the idea that Cain, a demonic embodiment of whatever Hell represents itself as anymore, is now looming over him like a plague of some kind willingly. Voluntarily poking the vampire to get all of the ugly rot out and seek what exactly? A chance to glance at the wickedness that lives within? A wolf is exactly what he says he is, barring his teeth, and showing off his blinded eyes. Lestat doesn't want a demon to assume that he knows the vampire better only because he is somehow more inhuman than the rockstar. To Lestat, there is no competition with evil, or monstrous. Everyone who has taken a life is a monster enough, and does not deserve to be forgiven. This is what Lestat tells himself when for the fourth time he shatters the vanity in his green room after a fan slips him a note worshipping him. Yes, he deserves this devotion, but the perversion of his ugliness gets to the vampire in ways that drive him up the walls.

Lestat rolls his eyes.

Cain passes him like a breeze. The air feels heavy and Lestat's expression soaks in a grim shadow. His eyes pin the back of Cain's head. He wonders if he can sizzle his thick, dark mane by glare alone. The vampire raises an eyebrow at the question. Then, he begins to laugh. Before his bubbling chest can turn into an uncontrollable fit, he stops himself by crossing his arms tightly around himself and squeezing his chest. The chain reaction stops and the rockstar takes a breath.

"My choice?" He smirks. "Was it my choice to figure out this 'Gift' all on my own and live its nightmare for the next three hundred years, drinking from people who look like me, and talk like me, and dance like me, but are nothing like me? Oh yes, I BEGGED for this." Venom-laced tongue rolls over his upper teeth where his fangs protrude by a mere instinctual twitch. He hates what he looks like, despite the power he beholds. He feels uglier by the day, and yet he is aware that he is the embodiment of ideal desire. He turns his face away.

"You know what is a choice? Asking impudent questions."

[eladead]

// drinking freshly brewed coffee at 10pm so I can act surprised tomorrow as to why I stayed up till 3am again. Anyway, why are the image borders back? Bitch, I got an extension. Wtf is Cumblr doing !???

[eladead]

❝ You literally wanted me to blacklist the designer of this two days ago-— among other colorful actions towards him-— and now you want me to get an extra of this made for the next show? Am I understanding that correctly? ❞ Deadpan and unexpressive if not with his usual level of fatigue he carried as Lestat's manager, a cropped and hand-bedazzled open blazer hanging from his hands. The article had evidently been shredded to some degree and was at its current stage hardly wearable... even in any sort of avante-garde sense.

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: this is not Lestat's fault when something becomes his problem. This is a sacred rule. First, there is an issue with a costume, which has the potential of derailing many things, starting with the vampire's confidence in his performance (even if he is ready to go on stage nude), and finishing with his mood for the upcoming years. It has to be precise. This is how he likes it, this is how he wants it. He glares at Clark, who reads back his orders. He wants to congratulate the cambion on the ability to recognize the patterns in the arranged alphabet and understand their meaning. The rockstar crosses his arms and lifts his chin.

"I want. Two. Copies. Because if that FIEND comes back again into MY green room with her THICK claws and destroys MY STAGE DEBUT COSTUME, I will be hosting my next concert in Hell, no offense, with the entire public strapped to a burning chair. Yes, Clark, I need ANOTHER one. Fuck the artist. Just pay him double. He will jump on this faster than Tumblr fans jump on their gif set edits of my hair!"

[eladead]

She might be kneading her extremely sharp claws on a pile of his beloved costumes.

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: "Have you no shame or decorum!? That costs more than your AUDACITY. LEAVE THE COPERNI SUIT JACKET ALONE, YOU DEMON!"

[eladead]

what does the blood of blasphemers taste like

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: "Pomegranates and good pussy."

[divineviclinist]

@eladead and i speaking in tongues not even we understand

[eladead]

> fuck you.

[eladead]

// last ooc post before I continue being the only shit you all see on dash

But say hi to the wise advisorrrrrr

[eladead]

// can you fellas imagine if I made an official RPC podcast. I'd tell the world all the secrets here, we will get SWATed

[endiness]

Your Biggest Fan (Live at the Beacon Theater) THE VAMPIRE LESTAT

[eladead]

"Teenage Me called. I want my hair back."

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆:"Hang up on her. I wore it better."

[eladead]

> pride icon, what we thinking

[eladead]

hoo boy there are quite a few stinkers questioning your self-proclaimed divinity and sassing you in the chat m'lord, dem comments though. Watcha gonna do about them huh. Will you stand for this blaspheming and meme-ing (blasmeme-ing? Idk)

R☆ckstar☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆: "Nothing. They are going to die of old age and I will live on. That's it."

[eladead]

Lestat's Poll: what is something in the modern age that would send Magnus into a coma?

Comment below! Les will start: "Consent."