hotpinkvamp

( ˶˘ ³˘)♡ .✦ ݁˖ 19! ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚bi! ˚ 𐙚 .⋆ she/her ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆ .✦ ݁˖ ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) 𓂃۶ৎ spiritually lestat ۶ৎ𓂃

[hotpinkvamp]

A peek inside my coffin .𖥔݁˖🕸️⚠︎.𖥔u˖ᐟ⋆。

I love all things vampy especially iwtv! I also interact with fashion subculture and alt. I'm pretty new to posting on tumblr but have lurked for a while! jjk self insert fics are my guilty pleasure but i dont believe in guilty pleasures :P. Also here for general anime + fandom shenanigans!

[jackdawwhat]

pov you call your employer the cuntessa, you aired his marital drama to the entire world and now you’re making him a musical documentary, you have your Pulitzer and you’re going to get your Oscar, you love being a vampire, you’re not on speaking terms with your old friend or your maker but you’d fuck them nasty given the chance, you’re a fledgling and you ripped off another vampire’s head to save your aforementioned boss while he’s high out of his mind. You’re the real cuntessa Daniel Molloy

[porcelia]

your boyfriend satoru is almost too big to fit 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ﮳﮳ᐢ) !

you’re on your back, legs spread wide, shaky breaths escaping your lips as satoru kneels between them. his cock is already slick with precum, a thick, heavy weight that rests against your stomach whenever he leans forward. you’ve done this before—enough times to know the ache that comes after, the way your body protests and craves him in equal measure. but tonight, something’s different.

“you okay?” he asks, voice low, teasing, but there’s a genuine edge to it. his thumb traces circles on your hip, grounding you.

“yeah,” you whisper, even though you’re not entirely sure. you reach down, fingers wrapping around his shaft. even half-hard, he’s massive—your hand can’t close around him, can’t even get halfway. your palm slides over velvety skin, feels the pulse kick under your touch. he hisses, hips twitching forward.

“gotta warn you, baby,” your boyfriend says, thumb pressing into your wetness, gathering some of the slick mess. “i’m not gonna be able to hold back tonight.”

you nod. a part of you wants this, wants to feel him split you open, wants that desperate, overwhelming fullness even if it hurts. you bring your other hand between your thighs, spread yourself open, show him how wet you already are, the way your hole flutters in anticipation.

“put it in,” you breathe.

satoru lines himself up, the fat head nudging against your entrance. it’s just the tip, and already you feel the stretch, the burn of being filled past what’s natural. he pushes, slow, inch by inch, and you gasp, back arching off the bed. your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate, but it’s too much. he’s too big.

“fuck,” he grunts, sweat beading on his brow. “you’re so tight. you’re fighting me.”

it hurts. it hurts so good. you can feel your inner muscles pulling against his girth, can feel the resistance, the way your body tries to deny him entry even as you beg for it. he stops when he’s about halfway in, breath ragged.

“i can’t—you’re not gonna take all of it,” he says, voice strained. “it won’t fit.”

“i don’t care,” you whimper, hands gripping his forearms. “just—please. i need it.”

he takes a breath, then pushes harder. you cry out as he forces another inch in, the pain sharp and bright, mixed with a pleasure that makes your toes curl. he’s buried deep now, but still not all the way. you can feel the empty space inside you, the part of him still outside, and it drives you crazy.

satoru starts to move, shallow thrusts at first, pulling out just enough to let your body adjust before pressing back in. each time, the stretch is remade, your cunt screaming in protest and welcome. your moans turn into a steady stream of incoherent pleas—faster, more, harder, please—and he obliges, picking up the pace.

but his cock is too big. no matter how much you want it, no matter how wet you get, you can’t take him fully. your body tells you in little spasms, in the way you clench and release without rhythm, in the tear tracks that streak your cheeks. he sees them, slows down.

“too much?” he asks, and his thumb wipes at your cheek.

“don’t stop,” you choke out. “don’t stop.”

so he doesn’t. he fucks you with everything he’s got, hips snapping against yours, the wet sound of your pussy taking what it can filling the room. you can feel every ridge of his cock, every vein, the way he pulses inside you. your hands rake down his back, leaving red marks, and he growls, fucks you harder.

it’s not long before you come. the orgasm builds like a wave, cresting over you as he grinds against that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. your legs clamp around his waist, pulling him deeper, and you scream into his neck as you come undone, pussy clenching around him in violent pulsing waves.

but he doesn’t stop.

“s-satoru, wait, i’m still—” you gasp, overstimulated, sensitive, raw. the feeling of him still moving inside you after your orgasm is almost too much, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

“i know,” he says, and he’s not cruel, but he’s relentless. “one more. just one more for me, baby. you can do it.”

you’re shaking, trembling, your thighs quivering as he thrusts. the overstimulation amplifies everything—the stretch, the friction, the fullness. every brush of his cock against your walls sends jolts of electricity through your nerves. you’re crying now, a mix of ecstasy and exhaustion, but you don’t tell him to stop. you can’t. you need this, need him to use you until you’re nothing but a sobbing, cum-drunk mess.

he watches you fall apart, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. his hand snakes down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, swollen and oversensitive. he rubs circles, light and fast, and you arch off the bed again, a broken moan tearing from your throat.

“that’s it,” he murmurs. “come on. give me another one.”

your second orgasm is less explosive but longer, a drawn-out, messy affair. your entire body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up, as you cum around his too-big cock, still buried inside you, still moving. you feel his rhythm stutter, feel his heat spill inside you, deep and hot and endless. he groans your name as he cums, and the feeling of being filled by him, even though he never fit completely, is the final push you needed.

he pulls out gently, careful not to hurt you, and you both collapse on the wet sheets. his cock is still hard, still slick with your combined fluids, and you can see the way your entrance gapes, the redness, the evidence of what you’ve done. he kisses your forehead.

“you okay?” he asks again, softer this time.

you don’t have the breath to answer, so you just nod, curling into his chest. you feel the soreness already settling in, the dull ache that will bloom into something more tomorrow. but right now, you still feel him inside you, even though he’s not. that phantom fullness.

he’s still hard, pressing against your thigh. you can feel his breath quicken, and you know he’s not done yet. “one more,” he whispers, and the words are a command and a plea, all at once. “please. i need—again. i need you to take it again.”

you should say no. you should tell him you need a break, that your body can’t handle another round. but the way he looks at you, desperate and hungry, and the way your pussy still clenches around nothing, aches for him despite the pain—it overrides any sense.

“okay,” you whisper. “okay. but go slow.”

“i will,” he says, and he’s already positioning himself, already pressing the head of his cock against your overworked entrance. you hiss at the immediate stretch, the burn returning with a vengeance. he pushes in, inch by inch, and you can feel every fold of your cunt being forced open, made to accommodate him even though it never will.

your cries turn into sobs as he bottoms out—or rather, as he reaches the point where you can’t take any more. he strokes inside you, slow and deep, and the overstimulation is a living thing now, a fire that consumes you from the inside out. every nerve is screaming. your clit is so sore you can’t bear the thought of touch, yet when he reaches down and pinches it, you scream, a mix of agony and bliss.

your boyfriend fucks you like that, slow but punishing, milking your oversensitive body for all it’s worth. you’re a mess of tears and sweat and cum, legs trembling, hands fisting the sheets. he doesn’t stop until you’re choking on another orgasm, this one weak and painful, barely a shudder before you’re done.

he follows close behind, spilling into you again, his cum mixing with his own before it leaks out around his cock. he stays buried for a long moment, breathing hard, before pulling out. you’re left lying there, empty and shattered, your cunt fluttering, trying to hold onto something that’s too big to stay.

satoru collapses beside you, pulling you close. “that was—fuck.” he laughs, a low, exhausted sound. “you’re amazing.”

you can’t find the words, so you just press a kiss to his chest and let the slick, messy aftermath settle around you both, the ache of being stretched beyond your limit a warm, persistent throb that promises to haunt you for days.

[hotpinkvamp]

#relatable

[lestatdelioncourtney]

[verymerrymart]

[reticent-vampire]

Jacob Anderson as Louis de Pointe du Lac The Vampire Lestat 3.03

[lacquerheadd]

when i’m in a humongous honkers competition and these two show up

[hotpinkvamp]

will lestat make it out of the khia asylum this season?

yes

no

Voting ended onJun 19

[hotpinkvamp]

THE VERDICT IS IN! LIFE SENTENCE IN THE KHIA ASYLUM!

[hotpinkvamp]

will lestat make it out of the khia asylum this season?

yes

no

Voting ended onJun 19

[hotpinkvamp]

chaotic neutral blunt rotation: oscar wilde, clavicular (he greens out after talking to oscar), anthony bourdaine, mary shelly, lestat de lioncourt (drains clavicular after)

[kcokaine]

dragonjo

[hunnismokah]

morning YAWWWNNNN

[hotpinkvamp]

bro i fucking hate kalshi

[papernstory]

I think I’m addicted to drawing Geto with catoru 🖤🐱

[theseventhcrow55]

i get so emotional every time i think about fanfic culture. it's just so beautiful that people are writing and anonymously posting these thousand-word stories about characters we all love and not even getting any money or public fame from it. it's literally just for the love of the game.

shout out to everyone who participates in fanfic culture, be it reading or writing fanfics. you are contributing to such a lovely thing <3

[revolvingsaturn]

𝜗𝜚 your (hot) psychology professor, Geto, Pavlovs you into orgasming in class

more like this

ೃ࿔*:･

“M’gonna cum-“ you wail, nails clinging to your professor’s back as he fucks into you, cock stretching you out perfectly just as it always does.

And, just as he always does- he denies you.

“Oh no, gorgeous,” Suguru Geto purrs into your ear, “I believe you haven’t been given permission. Have you?”

You moan, hips bucking futilely. This happens every time- you’re right there, right on the precipice of an Earth-shattering orgasm, and he makes you wait. Makes you count.

“Five.”

“I can’t hold it-“

“You will. Four.”

You soak his base, strings of glossy slick snapping midair.

“Three, two… and one.”

“Oh, fuck!” You cry, tears streaming into your hair as your body caves in, cunt spasming around him as you ruin the ironed, white sheets of his bed.

That was last week, but now you’re staring at him again. Not from below, no, or even from above, grinding your hips down- but from the distance of a lecture theatre as Geto speaks on and on about psychological advances and studies.

“So, to preface the idea of the multi-store memory model, we must return back to Bartlett’s idea of rationalisation. Page 32-“

Geto blinks, textbook in hand and glasses perched on his nose. Then, he smiles. “Ah, well, I suppose this is your final class of the semester.”

There’s a flurry of confused nods and exhausted smiles, students slumped in corners with battered headphones lying on crowded desks.

“I should give you a rest… how’s this, hm? I think I’d be cruel if I didn’t let you all leave a tad early… how’s ten seconds?”

A flutter of agreement, disbelief shadowing faces already heavy with eyebags from relentless studying. Yours included- you’re confused; Geto has never ended class early, not once, no matter how many times you may bite your lip at him or suggest it with a cheek resting on his bare thigh.

“I'll count, then.” He directs casually, perching on the corner of his desk. “Let me begin! Ten…”

You freeze. Oh my god. Not now, please, please not here-

“Nine.”

Your panties flood automatically, thighs clenching unwillingly below the desk as classmates start packing textbooks into their backpacks, unaware of the slight issue you’re having.

“Eight.”

His tone is steady, grounding in the usual way he lectures on the brain and ethical debates and Milgram’s Agency Theory- and the way he breathes into your ear in the dark, fingers sliding between your thighs coolly. The thought makes you squeak behind your palm.

“Seven.”

You jolt forwards accidentally, and the girl next to you shoots you a quizzical look.

“You okay? I’m just glad he’s letting us go early, I’m like, totallyyyy behind on all this.” She says, plugging her headphones into her ear.

“Mhm, y-yep, me too.”

“Six.”

You snap back to the front of the theatre immediately, Geto looking anywhere but your flushing face. There’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing, yet he’s refusing to acknowledge it.

“Five.”

He’s refusing to acknowledge the psychological toll he’s taken on you, wiring your brain to associate countdowns with orgasms. You almost laugh in delirium- your psychology professor has permanently changed your brain chemistry: with his dick. How funny.

“Four.”

You’re struggling to relocate the humour in it, however, when you feel a bead of slick pool in your underwear. Your clit catches on the seam of fabric below your jeans just right, and you almost gasp- it’s quickly stifled behind a hand, nails clawing at your thigh.

“Three.”

You’re going to cum. You are going to actually orgasm in the middle of a lecture theatre, surrounded by peers and students who have no clue about the reason for your sudden violent twitching.

“Two.”

He looks at you then, violet piercing into your heart-shaped pupils as you tremble in your seat, pussy clenching around nothing but the soppingly wet fabric of your ruined panties. Your nails dig into the denim of your jeans, indenting the skin below with the force of it all, and Geto just smiles. Because he knows.

“One.”

Your vision almost whites out. Thighs smack together under the desk, unable to unglue themselves as your classmates slowly trickle towards the exit. Some thank Geto, some just rush out without glancing twice at him, hellbent on sleeping as early as possible.

Until it’s just you and him, the last student finally meandering out of the door. Beneath your sweater, your chest heaves in an attempt to catch any breath you can.

“Do you need to ask any follow up questions, my favourite student?” Geto’s voice drips with humour, his mouth quirking into an unabashed grin. “Perhaps about… Pavlov?”

“No-“ you gasp, voice a little wobbly as you come down from the aftershocks. “Jesus, I can’t believe you.” You’re embarrassed, cheeks pink and panties ruined, still slumped breathlessly in the chair.

Geto just tilts his head, waves of inky black careening over his shoulder as he begins to walk towards you. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and you flinch like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Good.”

ೃ࿔*:･

masterlist

a/n: I HATE my psychology course atm i just don’t care about PET scans and oxyhaemaglobin

tags (open):

@yvannaille @f33bs @loverofladybugs @p3stop3sta @arabellasolstice @dreamcastgirl99 @starsandni7 @sharkiethrts @what-the-jams @likstars @elenathriel @gyusheadphones @savagecatsuga @sxpernova @wqsrs @kakuthefish

[hunnismokah]

stsg thats not angst i love!!!!