hello fellow artists. google has fallen. pinterest/duckduckgo AI filters don't work. do not despair; here is a list i made of places to find reference images without having to sift through piles of worthless garbage. (for future editing convenience i am just linking my blog post on dreamwidth.)
✨ good places to find art reference that are not full of AI trash 🌈
𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ I did mean to write more hard-core sex... but its hard when you're a narcissist + writing 4 people. Im sorry :( there was the eiffel tower + riding option but that almost seemed too narcissistic
𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.99k
cw: blowj-b, riding, missionary, top male reader, sappy shit, past toxicity, voyeurism, armand's sections are short :(
As soon as Lestat enters the room, he finds you and settles upon your lap, a bundle of adrenaline and lust. You wrap your arm around his slim waist and place a hand on his thigh, then revel in the way he pushes his sweaty back against you for you to possess.
"That was an amazing performance, Lestat. You can only imagine how it made me feel."
You grin up at him and, like a couple with concerning power play but no concern for PDA, he steals a kiss from you, smiling into it himself. "I know it made you feel all hot and bothered under those suit pants of yours—I can feel it poking at me right now."
You pepper kisses down his neck and let your laugh rumble against his chest. "We should celebrate. What do you want? I'll give you anything you ask for."
The both of you know full well that Lestat doesn't need the money, but it has always been fun to live off of another man's good fortune under the pretense of love—and Lestat is self-indulgent.
"I do not need anything from you," Lestat says, a rare thing. Last time he asked for an all-out boudoir photoshoot. "all I need is you and me in a coffin; after a bath, accompanied by, perhaps, a good fuck. Mm, and liquor! Don't forget the liquor."
You chuckled, setting a warm hand upon the space between his pecs, "Anything else, my love?"
"Well... yes, a reunion." Before you can ask, Lestat clarifies, the utter ecstasy in his voice turning into vestiges. "I've been planning on settling a dispute the civil way with an ex-lover of mine for some time now... Do not fret, chérie! I settle this because I only have eyes for you."
Lestat had interpreted your curiosity as disdain. You fix that quickly, sending him an easy smile. "Do go on."
"Yes, well I heard through the grapevine that he is going through another divorce himself." Lestat laughs at that himself, like he has manifested downfall for both of the people he refers to like a teenage girl and it has actually worked. "I thought: why not kill two birds with one stone, and invited them to coffee."
Though it spells disaster, Lestat and his endeavors have always been entertaining. "Of course, my love... might I ask what year you had been with this lover of yours?"
"1910."
You expected a vampire, of course. The other lover might have been a vampire too, but vampires do not usually marry under the law because the promise of lifelong companionship is much too fickle, so you doubted that. You also thought you knew neither of them.
You were wrong, it seemed. Lestat's newest disaster will be one you'll be roped into this time... or, you'll be the main focus.
"Lestat." Louis greeted Lestat with a polite smile, gesturing to the seat in front of him. His mouth began before his eyes reached yours, "You brought your lawyer–? Oh."
"Louis." You begin politely, settling onto the loveseat couch next to Lestat. The awkward creak of its leather represents your state of mind. "...Armand."
Armand's orange eyes seem like they will bore a hole into the side of your skull. He calls your name after clearing his throat and says, "Hello to you too."
"You have history?" Lestat finds your hand under the table. He doesn't hide it, he showcases it by placing it on the table.
Louis' eyes wander down with a mere ounce of shamet, though they snap up with politeness, "Yes."
⛥ ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ⛥
You had been, to Louis, a realization; a month-long escapade under expensive, silk sheets that he couldn't afford at the time.
He was sweet and shy, young and inexperienced. You were his first man and, perhaps, his very first. It had gone undiscussed, as had your feelings, as had your origin and eventual departure.
There were much more pressing matters that took your mind and stole your voice, mind.
Some nights, it was sweet. You'd take his cross between your teeth and lean over him while you took him, slow. It had felt like blasphemy, but that guilt in Louis chest mixed with the pleasure and his developing love for you so perfectly that it made him forget.
Other nights, it was carnal.
His back turned to you, his hole clenched around you—it was hard not to bite him, to let his last moments be those of bliss... it was harder still, not to turn him.
But you reared your ugly head and worked on pleasuring him instead, pulling his ass flush to your pelvis and fucking him 'till he couldn't take it no more.
He moaned for you so sweetly, though hidden in the pillow he'd shoved his face into. Sweat and tears stained it as much as his heavy, ragged breath did. The way your cock dove into him, the way your skin slapped together, it was hard to breath. He felt like he was growing delirious.
"I–you–ah, fuck!" He didn't know what to say, he didn't even know why he needed to say anything in the first place, just that he wanted to please you, "It's so good..."
You paused, then, lifting his head off the pillow, ignoring the way he whined for you to continue to plow into him, "Do you love it, Louis?"
"Yes," He mumbled, the sound wet, and then he rambled on, "yes, yes, yes, I do."
His grinded back into you, wanting more of your cock. You gave it to him. He was hard to deny.
You had been, to Louis, a dive into sin wearing a mask of sweetness and giving wealth. Though he'd later come to learn that such loving didn't require atonement, you had been the one to show him it was possible.
⛥ ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ⛥
"History is an understatement." Armand says next, tapping his fingernails on the table. His eyes are cold, but his mind is open: a big one.
Lestat raises a brow, "At the same time?"
"No, no, hell no." Louis objects, eyebrows squeezed together while a useless, refuting hand is pointed at Lestat. "You didn't think to consider things were platonic?"
Now, both of Lestat's eyebrows raise with surprise. He doesn't need to read anyone's minds to tell where the tension in the room comes from. "Well, I know it wasn't."
It was far from platonic, you think, locking eyes with Armand.
⛥ ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ⛥
You gasp, head falling back onto the pillow. Your fingers tremble at Armand's waist, falling, then, to his hips and then finally the sheets to claw at something, anything, that isn't your fragile lover's skin.
Armand on top is something you can't resist, the way his hole feels like heaven being ripped away from you then returned, swiftly, it's everything.
Armand pours his very being into riding you, into taking care of you and ravishing your cock. His hands find your abdomen. He takes it as leverage, his sharp nails pointed away from you... until he gets too caught up in the feeling of you deep inside of him, and they dig.
You gasp, because of the pain, because it feels like he's staking his claim on you.
You cry out his name, which begs Armand to steal your voice from you. He captures your lips with his own, as much teeth and fangs as tender passion.
When you finish, his lips aren't enough to stop the groans from spilling out with the second call of his name.
Armand collapses beside you, but then is quick to snuggle into your side, purring and sighing contently.
It is truly a blessing to have found him in Rome, for Rome is a city of ancients that whine about how their times have passed. In Rome, he is something new.
"I have been thinking of traveling," At the mention of travel, Armand perks up. He had received orders to leave for Paris; he hadn't told you yet. But then, "to America."
"America?" Armand sits up and leans over you, his palm planted next to your head. Those copper eyes bore into yours. "What do you want with that newborn continent?"
"Think of it. Exploration," You turn your head, kiss his wrist, "it is not enough to lead a coven. Imagine leading a city."
Armand doesn't let himself be swayed by your affection. "Listen to yourself. You will starve, in those plains and deserts between villages, because those new men and women will have no history for you to devour and so you will leave again, unsatisfied."
He fought, but you had made up your mind already.
⛥ ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ⛥
So maybe you had history with all of them, but they had history too. It was a fucked up square: you had been Armand, then he had been with Lestat, you had been with Louis, then he had been with Lestat; Louis and Armand had broken a fruitless, seventy-seven year long companionship, and you and Lestat were just beginning one.
Point is, you've never been together at the same time, much to the disappointment of Lestat's polyamorous heart.
That's why he sought to remedy it.
"Do you like this cock better, knowing who else has had it now?" Lestat doesn't have a hair tie, so you help him, one hand gripping his hair. He sure seems like he is enjoying himself much more, as he bobs his head in earnest.
He locks eyes with you, those icy-blues like a predator's. He pulls off, then licks a stripe down your length. With his cheek pressed up against your cock like that, he should look pathetic, but, "Are you two just going to stare like creeps or are you going to join in?"
Louis is the first to stand. He sighs, but his smile gives his emotions away. When he settles down next to you, head on your shoulder, he looks like a doll. He kisses like one too, soft against your neck, making you sigh like a damsel. He whispers into your mind, Lestat is trouble, you know?
The good kind, you reply, grip loosening on Lestat's hair anyway, the amusing kind.
Ordinarily, Lestat would complain at losing your attention, but you can smell his arousal, feel it as he grinds against your shoe. It's why he allows Armand to sit behind you.
You left for America, for this? Armand whispers into your mind as he bites and kisses at your ear. He presses his chest to your side, his hand sneaking under your shirt to smooth over your warm skin. For a broken, religious boy and sweaty rockstar?
"If you wish to speak, speak plainly." Lestat speaks up. He is making you a mess, keeping his hand wrapped around your cock as he addresses his former lovers, "It is unfair that Louis and I cannot speak to each other as privately–"
"I don't wish to speak to you." Louis says, making Lestat sputter incredulously. Louis kisses you, even, so neither of you have to speak to the blonde seductress. The way he kisses you, it almost makes you forget that Lestat is your current lover.
Armand takes the space Louis left behind at your neck. He doesn't dare use his fangs, but he bites between kisses, holding a grudge, perhaps. He doesn't leave you to guess as he whispers, vocally, "You left me in Rome, to rot. Did you ever think about what love I might've held for you?"
Lestat snickers from where he kneels, but Armand is quick to put his mouth back to work for you. His hand joins yours at his hair, forcing him to take you down his throat. "You too, Lestat," Armand spits out, "for the very same reason. I pick the lousiest lovers."
Louis pulls away from you. He speaks, even as you chase after his lips, "Aru–"
"Do not speak my name." Armand appears a vision, both a devil and an angel on your shoulder, eyes narrowed at his ex-lover. "The wounds you have inflicted upon my heart–"
Lestat, ever the instigator, pulls himself off your cock with a pop. "–are fresh. Oh, pity me, I am Armand the vampire, the servant, the–"
And you are left in the middle with no chance to speak or think at all, with Louis at your lips, Armand at your neck and Lestat in your cock.
They all had disdain for one another, but perhaps, to them, you had the least wrongdoings under your name... not for Armand, but you could remedy that.
Armand moaned as sweetly as you remembered as you rocked your hips into him. His nails scratched down your back, this time not in revenge, but by pure instinct and need. They drew blood, but you let him have it. "I–"
"Missed you." You finish for him, "you are as beautiful as I remember."
Louis has Armand's head on his lap and he caresses his hair, but his concerns lie with you. He cups your cheek and steals a kiss from you, this one more tame.
Lestat watches from the side, busy with his own cock, jerking himself off at the fast pace that you fuck Armand. A twist, considering how he'd roused Louis and Armand into action earlier. "Louis–"
"Shut up, Lestat." Louis breaks from your kiss to say it.
Lestat, surprisingly, actually settles down. He smiles, even. "Fine. Have your way with my boyfriend, just know he is coming home with me!"
Armand calls your name and Louis reluctantly lets you leave his grasp. You look down at him, just catching the way he arched his back for you, into you. When you spoke to him in the language you'd lived and breathed together the first century you'd been alive, it was intimate, "Nothing compares to you."
Though it is a sweet lie, Armand replies the same way, "Don't stop."
"Never," It's a promise. You've broken promises before, but not this time. "I wouldn't dare."
"Wow, so very unfair to Louis here, your only lover who doesn't speak Italian. The archaic kind!" Lestat's voice comes strained, a clear sign of how close he is, just as close as Armand, you imagine. "Louis. Please."
"Shut up Lestat."
Armand cuddled up to your shoulder, just like the night you'd expressed your wishes to him—except, this time, you've no expectations. There's the sweet, warm burn in his chest of contentment, and that's all that matters. He watches lazily as Louis rides you, the bitterness in him gone. He is laughing, even.
"For all the years that we were together, you never rode me like that." He grins, the very image of domesticity with his curls falling over your body.
Lestat chimes up from his corner of the room, "That's funny, because I have."
"Do I have to tell absolutely everyone to shut up around here?" Louis' nose is scrunched up with annoyance.
When you thrust up into him, everyone else is forgotten, though. You speak into his mind, because every other vampire in this room has at least a century over him, and he deserves something for himself.
No cross around your neck, I see?
No. Louis smiles, there's pride in it. His chest swells with confidence—some of it comes from the way your face screws up as he rides you, even if you are much further along already than he—and you are happy for it.
You smooth your hand over his forehead, ending over the side of his face. Shame. I quite liked the metal between my teeth. Could've even bitten it right now.
You blasphemous man, Louis laughs and leans down over you.
Hey, I'm happy you're free from it, you say in defense of yourself, sneaking your hands now onto his hips. The way you grip them makes Louis bite his lip. He rocks his hips with more hunger, now.
Armand begins to press kisses against your neck, though his jealousy spikes, you know he does not seek much attention.
Why didn't you turn me? Louis' eyes stare more intensely into yours with the question. The way he clenches around you should distract you, what with your increasingly heavier breaths, but it makes you focus on him.
You had a family, the answer is simple, though you know it displeases him. In one swift movement, you turn him onto his back and take charge, swinging one of his knees over your shoulder. You press a kiss to it, an apology, you were a treasure. I couldn't bear the idea of corrupting you.
Louis wraps his other leg around your hip, pulling your cock deeper into him. He moans, body shuddering fully. But somebody else could.
Jealous? You quirk a brow.
No. Louis replies quickly, but how can he lie to a man balls deep inside him? It is not a good lie, it's quite easy to look through.
He is a toy. Nothing more, you assure.
Louis would agree, but Armand distracts him. For a moment, all is forgiven: Armand presses kisses against Louis' neck, no cruelty in it, no bites; you keep fucking him, pressing your own kisses against his knee and calf, it's almost like you never left.
Louis loses himself in his mind, you know it because you delve into it. His pleasure is yours and yours his as your minds intertwine.
As you take him, Louis asks for more, begs for more, in his sweet voice.
It is all a spectacle for Lestat, though one that pleases him.
He complains as he settles on top of you—Louis and Armand have taken your sides—about how you finished into another man, about how this is technically cheating, but he does nothing more than demand you wrap his arms around him.
You won't speak about how his cock is all limp and pink and spent, or about how he liked watching, because his ego is too fragile.
𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ I did mean to write more hard-core sex... but its hard when you're a narcissist + writing 4 people. Im sorry :( there was the eiffel tower + riding option but that almost seemed too narcissistic
𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.99k
cw: blowj-b, riding, missionary, top male reader, sappy shit, past toxicity, voyeurism, armand's sections are short :(
As soon as Lestat enters the room, he finds you and settles upon your lap, a bundle of adrenaline and lust. You wrap your arm around his slim waist and place a hand on his thigh, then revel in the way he pushes his sweaty back against you for you to possess.
"That was an amazing performance, Lestat. You can only imagine how it made me feel."
You grin up at him and, like a couple with concerning power play but no concern for PDA, he steals a kiss from you, smiling into it himself. "I know it made you feel all hot and bothered under those suit pants of yours—I can feel it poking at me right now."
You pepper kisses down his neck and let your laugh rumble against his chest. "We should celebrate. What do you want? I'll give you anything you ask for."
The both of you know full well that Lestat doesn't need the money, but it has always been fun to live off of another man's good fortune under the pretense of love—and Lestat is self-indulgent.
"I do not need anything from you," Lestat says, a rare thing. Last time he asked for an all-out boudoir photoshoot. "all I need is you and me in a coffin; after a bath, accompanied by, perhaps, a good fuck. Mm, and liquor! Don't forget the liquor."
You chuckled, setting a warm hand upon the space between his pecs, "Anything else, my love?"
"Well... yes, a reunion." Before you can ask, Lestat clarifies, the utter ecstasy in his voice turning into vestiges. "I've been planning on settling a dispute the civil way with an ex-lover of mine for some time now... Do not fret, chérie! I settle this because I only have eyes for you."
Lestat had interpreted your curiosity as disdain. You fix that quickly, sending him an easy smile. "Do go on."
"Yes, well I heard through the grapevine that he is going through another divorce himself." Lestat laughs at that himself, like he has manifested downfall for both of the people he refers to like a teenage girl and it has actually worked. "I thought: why not kill two birds with one stone, and invited them to coffee."
Though it spells disaster, Lestat and his endeavors have always been entertaining. "Of course, my love... might I ask what year you had been with this lover of yours?"
"1910."
You expected a vampire, of course. The other lover might have been a vampire too, but vampires do not usually marry under the law because the promise of lifelong companionship is much too fickle, so you doubted that. You also thought you knew neither of them.
You were wrong, it seemed. Lestat's newest disaster will be one you'll be roped into this time... or, you'll be the main focus.
"Lestat." Louis greeted Lestat with a polite smile, gesturing to the seat in front of him. His mouth began before his eyes reached yours, "You brought your lawyer–? Oh."
"Louis." You begin politely, settling onto the loveseat couch next to Lestat. The awkward creak of its leather represents your state of mind. "...Armand."
Armand's orange eyes seem like they will bore a hole into the side of your skull. He calls your name after clearing his throat and says, "Hello to you too."
"You have history?" Lestat finds your hand under the table. He doesn't hide it, he showcases it by placing it on the table.
Louis' eyes wander down with a mere ounce of shamet, though they snap up with politeness, "Yes."
⛥ ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ⛥
You had been, to Louis, a realization; a month-long escapade under expensive, silk sheets that he couldn't afford at the time.
He was sweet and shy, young and inexperienced. You were his first man and, perhaps, his very first. It had gone undiscussed, as had your feelings, as had your origin and eventual departure.
There were much more pressing matters that took your mind and stole your voice, mind.
Some nights, it was sweet. You'd take his cross between your teeth and lean over him while you took him, slow. It had felt like blasphemy, but that guilt in Louis chest mixed with the pleasure and his developing love for you so perfectly that it made him forget.
Other nights, it was carnal.
His back turned to you, his hole clenched around you—it was hard not to bite him, to let his last moments be those of bliss... it was harder still, not to turn him.
But you reared your ugly head and worked on pleasuring him instead, pulling his ass flush to your pelvis and fucking him 'till he couldn't take it no more.
He moaned for you so sweetly, though hidden in the pillow he'd shoved his face into. Sweat and tears stained it as much as his heavy, ragged breath did. The way your cock dove into him, the way your skin slapped together, it was hard to breath. He felt like he was growing delirious.
"I–you–ah, fuck!" He didn't know what to say, he didn't even know why he needed to say anything in the first place, just that he wanted to please you, "It's so good..."
You paused, then, lifting his head off the pillow, ignoring the way he whined for you to continue to plow into him, "Do you love it, Louis?"
"Yes," He mumbled, the sound wet, and then he rambled on, "yes, yes, yes, I do."
His grinded back into you, wanting more of your cock. You gave it to him. He was hard to deny.
You had been, to Louis, a dive into sin wearing a mask of sweetness and giving wealth. Though he'd later come to learn that such loving didn't require atonement, you had been the one to show him it was possible.
⛥ ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ⛥
"History is an understatement." Armand says next, tapping his fingernails on the table. His eyes are cold, but his mind is open: a big one.
Lestat raises a brow, "At the same time?"
"No, no, hell no." Louis objects, eyebrows squeezed together while a useless, refuting hand is pointed at Lestat. "You didn't think to consider things were platonic?"
Now, both of Lestat's eyebrows raise with surprise. He doesn't need to read anyone's minds to tell where the tension in the room comes from. "Well, I know it wasn't."
It was far from platonic, you think, locking eyes with Armand.
⛥ ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ⛥
You gasp, head falling back onto the pillow. Your fingers tremble at Armand's waist, falling, then, to his hips and then finally the sheets to claw at something, anything, that isn't your fragile lover's skin.
Armand on top is something you can't resist, the way his hole feels like heaven being ripped away from you then returned, swiftly, it's everything.
Armand pours his very being into riding you, into taking care of you and ravishing your cock. His hands find your abdomen. He takes it as leverage, his sharp nails pointed away from you... until he gets too caught up in the feeling of you deep inside of him, and they dig.
You gasp, because of the pain, because it feels like he's staking his claim on you.
You cry out his name, which begs Armand to steal your voice from you. He captures your lips with his own, as much teeth and fangs as tender passion.
When you finish, his lips aren't enough to stop the groans from spilling out with the second call of his name.
Armand collapses beside you, but then is quick to snuggle into your side, purring and sighing contently.
It is truly a blessing to have found him in Rome, for Rome is a city of ancients that whine about how their times have passed. In Rome, he is something new.
"I have been thinking of traveling," At the mention of travel, Armand perks up. He had received orders to leave for Paris; he hadn't told you yet. But then, "to America."
"America?" Armand sits up and leans over you, his palm planted next to your head. Those copper eyes bore into yours. "What do you want with that newborn continent?"
"Think of it. Exploration," You turn your head, kiss his wrist, "it is not enough to lead a coven. Imagine leading a city."
Armand doesn't let himself be swayed by your affection. "Listen to yourself. You will starve, in those plains and deserts between villages, because those new men and women will have no history for you to devour and so you will leave again, unsatisfied."
He fought, but you had made up your mind already.
⛥ ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ⛥
So maybe you had history with all of them, but they had history too. It was a fucked up square: you had been Armand, then he had been with Lestat, you had been with Louis, then he had been with Lestat; Louis and Armand had broken a fruitless, seventy-seven year long companionship, and you and Lestat were just beginning one.
Point is, you've never been together at the same time, much to the disappointment of Lestat's polyamorous heart.
That's why he sought to remedy it.
"Do you like this cock better, knowing who else has had it now?" Lestat doesn't have a hair tie, so you help him, one hand gripping his hair. He sure seems like he is enjoying himself much more, as he bobs his head in earnest.
He locks eyes with you, those icy-blues like a predator's. He pulls off, then licks a stripe down your length. With his cheek pressed up against your cock like that, he should look pathetic, but, "Are you two just going to stare like creeps or are you going to join in?"
Louis is the first to stand. He sighs, but his smile gives his emotions away. When he settles down next to you, head on your shoulder, he looks like a doll. He kisses like one too, soft against your neck, making you sigh like a damsel. He whispers into your mind, Lestat is trouble, you know?
The good kind, you reply, grip loosening on Lestat's hair anyway, the amusing kind.
Ordinarily, Lestat would complain at losing your attention, but you can smell his arousal, feel it as he grinds against your shoe. It's why he allows Armand to sit behind you.
You left for America, for this? Armand whispers into your mind as he bites and kisses at your ear. He presses his chest to your side, his hand sneaking under your shirt to smooth over your warm skin. For a broken, religious boy and sweaty rockstar?
"If you wish to speak, speak plainly." Lestat speaks up. He is making you a mess, keeping his hand wrapped around your cock as he addresses his former lovers, "It is unfair that Louis and I cannot speak to each other as privately–"
"I don't wish to speak to you." Louis says, making Lestat sputter incredulously. Louis kisses you, even, so neither of you have to speak to the blonde seductress. The way he kisses you, it almost makes you forget that Lestat is your current lover.
Armand takes the space Louis left behind at your neck. He doesn't dare use his fangs, but he bites between kisses, holding a grudge, perhaps. He doesn't leave you to guess as he whispers, vocally, "You left me in Rome, to rot. Did you ever think about what love I might've held for you?"
Lestat snickers from where he kneels, but Armand is quick to put his mouth back to work for you. His hand joins yours at his hair, forcing him to take you down his throat. "You too, Lestat," Armand spits out, "for the very same reason. I pick the lousiest lovers."
Louis pulls away from you. He speaks, even as you chase after his lips, "Aru–"
"Do not speak my name." Armand appears a vision, both a devil and an angel on your shoulder, eyes narrowed at his ex-lover. "The wounds you have inflicted upon my heart–"
Lestat, ever the instigator, pulls himself off your cock with a pop. "–are fresh. Oh, pity me, I am Armand the vampire, the servant, the–"
And you are left in the middle with no chance to speak or think at all, with Louis at your lips, Armand at your neck and Lestat in your cock.
They all had disdain for one another, but perhaps, to them, you had the least wrongdoings under your name... not for Armand, but you could remedy that.
Armand moaned as sweetly as you remembered as you rocked your hips into him. His nails scratched down your back, this time not in revenge, but by pure instinct and need. They drew blood, but you let him have it. "I–"
"Missed you." You finish for him, "you are as beautiful as I remember."
Louis has Armand's head on his lap and he caresses his hair, but his concerns lie with you. He cups your cheek and steals a kiss from you, this one more tame.
Lestat watches from the side, busy with his own cock, jerking himself off at the fast pace that you fuck Armand. A twist, considering how he'd roused Louis and Armand into action earlier. "Louis–"
"Shut up, Lestat." Louis breaks from your kiss to say it.
Lestat, surprisingly, actually settles down. He smiles, even. "Fine. Have your way with my boyfriend, just know he is coming home with me!"
Armand calls your name and Louis reluctantly lets you leave his grasp. You look down at him, just catching the way he arched his back for you, into you. When you spoke to him in the language you'd lived and breathed together the first century you'd been alive, it was intimate, "Nothing compares to you."
Though it is a sweet lie, Armand replies the same way, "Don't stop."
"Never," It's a promise. You've broken promises before, but not this time. "I wouldn't dare."
"Wow, so very unfair to Louis here, your only lover who doesn't speak Italian. The archaic kind!" Lestat's voice comes strained, a clear sign of how close he is, just as close as Armand, you imagine. "Louis. Please."
"Shut up Lestat."
Armand cuddled up to your shoulder, just like the night you'd expressed your wishes to him—except, this time, you've no expectations. There's the sweet, warm burn in his chest of contentment, and that's all that matters. He watches lazily as Louis rides you, the bitterness in him gone. He is laughing, even.
"For all the years that we were together, you never rode me like that." He grins, the very image of domesticity with his curls falling over your body.
Lestat chimes up from his corner of the room, "That's funny, because I have."
"Do I have to tell absolutely everyone to shut up around here?" Louis' nose is scrunched up with annoyance.
When you thrust up into him, everyone else is forgotten, though. You speak into his mind, because every other vampire in this room has at least a century over him, and he deserves something for himself.
No cross around your neck, I see?
No. Louis smiles, there's pride in it. His chest swells with confidence—some of it comes from the way your face screws up as he rides you, even if you are much further along already than he—and you are happy for it.
You smooth your hand over his forehead, ending over the side of his face. Shame. I quite liked the metal between my teeth. Could've even bitten it right now.
You blasphemous man, Louis laughs and leans down over you.
Hey, I'm happy you're free from it, you say in defense of yourself, sneaking your hands now onto his hips. The way you grip them makes Louis bite his lip. He rocks his hips with more hunger, now.
Armand begins to press kisses against your neck, though his jealousy spikes, you know he does not seek much attention.
Why didn't you turn me? Louis' eyes stare more intensely into yours with the question. The way he clenches around you should distract you, what with your increasingly heavier breaths, but it makes you focus on him.
You had a family, the answer is simple, though you know it displeases him. In one swift movement, you turn him onto his back and take charge, swinging one of his knees over your shoulder. You press a kiss to it, an apology, you were a treasure. I couldn't bear the idea of corrupting you.
Louis wraps his other leg around your hip, pulling your cock deeper into him. He moans, body shuddering fully. But somebody else could.
Jealous? You quirk a brow.
No. Louis replies quickly, but how can he lie to a man balls deep inside him? It is not a good lie, it's quite easy to look through.
He is a toy. Nothing more, you assure.
Louis would agree, but Armand distracts him. For a moment, all is forgiven: Armand presses kisses against Louis' neck, no cruelty in it, no bites; you keep fucking him, pressing your own kisses against his knee and calf, it's almost like you never left.
Louis loses himself in his mind, you know it because you delve into it. His pleasure is yours and yours his as your minds intertwine.
As you take him, Louis asks for more, begs for more, in his sweet voice.
It is all a spectacle for Lestat, though one that pleases him.
He complains as he settles on top of you—Louis and Armand have taken your sides—about how you finished into another man, about how this is technically cheating, but he does nothing more than demand you wrap his arms around him.
You won't speak about how his cock is all limp and pink and spent, or about how he liked watching, because his ego is too fragile.
After literal months of work, finally, my biggest project yet is finished. I'm tired and proud, and I'm very glad to finally be done with this thing. Thank you @SkellyStar for helping me a ton, and I hope everyone will enjoy!
What else but Scarabia would I dedicate this much time to? I wanted this animatic to be fun, with a sad undertone. Overblot Jamil is having the time of his life, thriving, singing and really leaning into that unhinged vibe he gives off, while making Kalim's life miserable. I thought this song kinda fit OB Jamil, though then again, almost any self -congratulatory villain song does.
Does he like boobs or butts? Just ask him!
Scarabia x fem!reader | All characters are 18+ | suggestive, objectification
Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim laughs when this question gets brought up... Kalim loves butts!
Oh yeah, party from the waist down he loves it. He gets you all sorts of waist jewelry like beads, gems, polished glass, all sorts of stuff to wear around your hips that jingle.
Kalim is also very blunt if you do ask him wondering what he preferred he would say "Your ass! Well, I love your eyes too but mostly your ass!" And he would smile about it because he didn't say anything wrong.
He wants you to wear traditional clothes from his country and culture! Nice long flowy skirts that cover your legs but show off your cute belly...
Kalim does have a habit of resting a hand on your hip when he stands next to you or wrapping an arm around your waist. Sometimes he has his hand on your thigh just because he likes to touch you.
If you're on the thinner side he does make little comments about how you should eat a little more! Get nice and soft and filled out in his favorite places. Especially your backside...
You don't have to take any of his comments to heart. He's never seen you just for the shape of your ass. But he does take note when you wear waistbeads and need some more space around your hips.
Jamil Viper
Jamil isn't someone who answers this kind of thing... Jamil loves boobs!
Jamil is a slave and he's gotten used to looking down. And this benefits him because goodness gracious he wins each time.
He's way more prude about what he likes in a woman's body because he doesn't want to push his opinions and ideals onto you!
He loves you to death but when you wear a push-up bra or a tight top he starts twirling his hair you are so hot and he hopes you know that. If not he will let you know in private that he finds you extremely attractive.
Sometimes he does get annoyed during basketball practice Ace and Floyd will make stupid comments and ask about you but he never answers. That and he will always defend you from objectification.
Only Jamil is allowed to objectify you! In his mind at least. He's too chicken to do it in person and to your face.
But when you jokingly call him master suddenly he wants to drag you around by your hair and pump his cock until your chest is covered in cum. But that's an inside thought.
🐊 featuring: {separate}: 𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
🐊 tw: yandere themes ⭐︎ non/dubcon ⭐︎ kidnapping ⭐︎ delusions ⭐︎ they’re mean es shii ⭐︎ two faced asl ⭐︎ sadism ⭐︎ masochism ⭐︎ bondage ⭐︎ footjob ⭐︎ spanking ⭐︎ degradation ⭐︎ babytrapping ⭐︎ choking ⭐︎ manhandling ⭐︎ face sitting (m! receiving) ⭐︎ 69 ⭐︎ rimming ⭐︎ feminization ⭐︎ lingerie ⭐︎ collar ⭐︎ humiliation ⭐︎ hair pulling ⭐︎ stockholm syndrome ⭐︎
🐊 an: ah yes, time to feed the twink lovers, wish you luck ♡
🐊 HEIZOU — Knick-knack!
The collar snaps before your eyes finish rolling.
Leather biting sharp into your throat – not tight enough to choke, just cruelly reminding you he already knew you'd try it.
It forces a sharp gasp out of you—one you don't get to finish, because Heizou's already using that strip of leather to drag you right back between his legs.
Knuckles skimming your jaw as he guides your head down, unbothered, like he'd mapped out every move you were going to make before you made them.
One moment you’re glaring.
Next, your mouth is full of him.
His cock slides hot and heavy over your tongue, and the startled glkh!— that bursts out of you only makes his grin sharpen.
"There she is," he says, voice bright and almost clinical. "I gave you three opportunities to stop before it got to this point. You picked this."
You barely manage a sputter before he adjusts the collar again—SNAP!—tightening it to borderline cut off airflow.
His expression doesn't go cold so much as settle — as if he's arrived somewhere he expected to be. You glare up at him on instinct.
Heizou’s eyes lit up like you’d handed him a present.
"Oh, still brave," he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip with idle curiosity, like he's noting it down somewhere. "Predictable, but brave. Don't use your teeth, sweetheart. I already know you're thinking about it."
You don’t get to protest.
Before he slams his hips upward, seating himself deeper in your throat so fast your nose hits his skin. His cock nudges a place you're not ready for, your throat seizing around him as your vision spots.
glk!- glkh- glk
Breath stuttering, lashes fluttering as he watches your throat struggle around him.
"T-there it is," he sighs, pleased in that infuriating, already-knew-it way he has. "Much more honest than whatever smart little comment you… were... hah… about to make. I clocked the exact wording, by the way. Would've been a good one."
You dig your nails into his thighs hard, a silent ‘go fuck yourself.’
The sound you make next — a humiliating, involuntary little choke — made you cringe… and him lose composure entirely.
Making Heizou moaned loudly, head tipping back, a low breathless "Ah–!" slipping out before he could catch it, olive eyes fluttering like your defiance knocked something loose in his chest he hadn't accounted for.
First thing he hadn't accounted for.
He stares back down at you, something flickering in his expression — recalculating. Then that grin returns, slower this time. More interested.
"Hm." His thumb drags your lip down, watching the spit string between skin. "You keep doing things I don't predict. Do you know how rare that is?"
Loosening the collar just enough for you to gasp—wrong move. Your pride flares, and you try to snap back, but all that comes out is a vibration against his cock, a choked mmph! that makes his hips jerk.
"Look at you," he says, catching a tear you didn't realize had fallen, holding it on his thumb like it's a clue. "Still fighting. Still dripping. And you think I can't tell which one you're more embarrassed about."
Then he's guiding your head back down—slow, but not merciful—letting his cock drag over every tender inch of your tongue while he keeps watching.
slrp!—mmph!—glk!
He follows the tremor in your thighs like a bloodhound.
Watches them press together, you pretending it's not happening. He clocked the exact moment your hips gave the smallest, traitorous twitch toward him.
"There it is.." quietly, to himself more than you, "You know~," he continues, tilting his head, "I wasn't planning to use more than one hand today. But you're so full of-” Then something warm slides between your knees. “-surprises.”
His foot.
The arch nudges your thighs apart, slow and so casual — like it's the obvious next logical step — exposing your soaked underwear to the cool air.
“Hm?” he coos, voice all faux-gentle mockery. "You're already this wet, and we're barely into the hypothesis."
His thumb traces idle circles on the leather strap. "Your body keeps contradicting itself. That's going to be a problem for you."
You try to shake your head — trembling, furious denial — but the collar stops the motion dead. His foot presses in, slow and deliberate, rubbing just enough friction against your panties to make your breath stutter out through your nose.
"You look furious," Heizou observes, voice soft with something worse than mockery — genuine fascination. "You should see your own face right now. You're trying so hard."
Foot rubbing in that same terrifying precision he puts into everything — deliberate circles right against your soaked panties. The pressure is perfect — teasing your swollen clit through the thin fabric while his cock stays buried deep in your throat.
"Every single time I discipline you," shaft still buried deep in your throat, foot working you toward something you're desperately trying not to give him, "your body does this. I've noted it. I have a very thorough record."
You try to grumble around him, but it only comes out as a wet, vibrating mmph that makes his length twitch on your tongue.
Heizou chuckles, low and delighted.
“Oh? You like that?” His foot moves faster, rubbing firm strokes up and down your dripping slit, toes curling to press right against your clit. “Look at you… trying so badly to glare at me while your pussy’s grinding against my foot like a desperate little whore.”
The combination is too much.
Your moan vibrates wildly around his length as your orgasm crashes through you — humiliating, what's worse is that he doesn't even look surprised.
"Mhm." He watches you shake apart with the quiet satisfaction of someone whose theory was confirmed exactly on schedule. "Right on time."
Not giving you a second to recover, his hips chase his own high with the same focused efficiency he does everything else, collar keeping you exactly where the evidence requires you to be.
With a low, unraveling moan — the least composed sound he's made all night — Heizou buries himself deep and cums.
He holds you through every pulse, breathing hard, that careful control finally fraying at the edges.
When he finally pulls back, thumb smearing across your swollen lip, he looks down at you with something that isn't quite the grin from earlier.
More like the face he makes when he's solved something that actually took effort.
"Good girl." Soft. Sincere, almost. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead — unhurried, like punctuation. "You know what the most interesting part of all of this is?"
Oh god
He tilts your chin up. "You already know exactly why you keep ending up here. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."
Grinning, eyeing your trembling form. "I'll wait. I'm patient. I already know the answer."
He gives the collar one last gentle tug.
"Knick-knack.~"
🐊 KAZUHA — W.T.F.
“K-KAZUHA WHAT T-THE FUCKKK!—”
Your voice cracks–as he slams into you, deep-deep-deep, the force of it yanking your silk-bound wrists taut against the beam above. The ropes creak as your spine arches.
And Kazuha just watches, amber eyes half-lidded, like he’s admiring the way your body jolts with every thrust.
Fingers cave into your hips, digging past the surface, marking you obsessively. He drives home with a smoothness that shouldn't be this brutal, each roll of his body a new lesson in how much you can endure.
One thrust.
Two.
Counting the hitches in your chest, timing his pace to the exact second your breath fails you.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers, voice soft as a lullaby. His hips snap forward—hard—and your gasp catches high in your chest, stuck.
“Is it the bindings?...” His thumb strokes your inner thigh, gently. “Or losing your Vision?”
He says it with a terrifying ease. He’d turned that stolen glass over in his palm earlier, eyes wide and worshiping, before tying you open and filling you.
Your body bounces with every stroke, helpless. “Hahh—!” spills out when he drags you down harder, his grip tightening, fingertips pressing deep enough to leave marks.
The pace picks up—smooth, controlled, relentless—like he’s chasing the sound of your breath shattering.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
The wet smack of skin on skin echoes across the water, obscene.
“Easy…” his breath is a warm ghost against your skin, but his weight is a solid, punishing reality stretching you open. “You keep tightening around me like this—”
A particularly vicious thrust punches the air straight out of your lungs, leaving you hollow. “—I might think you enjoy it.”
“I DON’T—” The words snap out, hot and immediate, but they lose their edge halfway.
Something is failing in the back of your skull. Your thoughts are sluggish, stalling, sinking into a gray fog.
Behind him, the box pulses with a weak, dying rhythm—your Pyro Vision guttering out, its fire turning to ash. You wrench your eyes away because the sight of your own fading ambition is a physical ache.
Kazuha grinds into you, a slow, cruel pressure right where your nerves are rawest, before driving up with a sudden, jarring force.
“Nghh—FUCK—!” It spills out, unbidden. Kazuha just exhales a quiet laugh against your cheek.
You hate the scent of him—cedar and salt air.
Hate the softness of his hair, untouched by the violence of his hips.
Most of all, you hate the memory of the same hand currently bruising your hip, tucking a blanket around your shoulders this morning.
You were something precious then.
Now, you’re just a prize.
The hate is there, but it’s slipping through your fingers, dissolving into the void where your Vision used to be.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice a low vibration in your ear as he thrusts deeper. Schlk…schlk…schlk filling you sends a forced heat racing up your spine. “-my songbird is one of a kind~.”
“KAZUHA I SWEAR TO ARCHONS-” But your voice cracks. The fury is a cavernous gap, feeling emptier by the second.
Another brutal snap of his hips makes your back arch, the beam above you groaning under the strain.
“I thought you’d want it like this,” puzzled, a quiet, private observation. He pouts—a look of pure, confused innocence—while his thumb traces a slow, heavy line up your clit. “You said I was always too soft.”
His shaft pulsed a deliberate, agonizing hesitation just to watch you squirm.
“So I figured…” Another thrust, deeper, meaner. “…you’d like it rough.”
You try to muster up the strength to glare holes into him, but you could only whimper in despair at the effects of not having your vision increase.
Kazuha tilts his head slightly, watching the way your wrists strain against the ropes like you’re testing whether the knots might suddenly grow merciful.
“I’m sorry,” voice dropping, quieter. Almost apologetic, “it has to be like this.”
The sorrow in his eyes is real. Genuine.
It changes absolutely nothing about the pace of his hips.
Your breath comes in ragged gasps, chest heaving as he adjusts his grip — one hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your leg higher, spreading you wider.
You can feel it…the hollowness spreads slowly through your limbs like something being gently, methodically unplugged.
"Kaz..." Your voice comes out smaller than you want it to. "Kazuha, you said…hah y-you always said–"
"I know what I said." He says it softly, watching your face with that unbearable attentiveness, like he's memorizing something. "I meant it. Every word."
His hips roll forward, slow and thorough, and the sound that escapes you isn't angry at all. "I still mean it."
"Tch then why–"
"Because–" and here his composure cracks, "you were gunna to leave n' not come back- heh." fingers fondling your nipple, making you arch just perfectly into him as he pumps his thickened inches through every peak.
"And- I found," he continues, breathless now, white hair falling across his face as he drives deeper, "that I believe in your freedom–" thrust "completely–" thrust "except for that."
The boat sways, adding more force to his thrusts.
He chuckles darkly to himself, a tone you've never heard before. He swirls n' swirls his globular tip, the perfect rounded shape to press into your nerves.
And somewhere in the growing heaviness behind your eyes, you're realizing horribly, humiliatingly... that your hips have started moving back to meet him.
Kazuha notices it, his eyes going soft, reaching up to cup your cheek with a gentleness that has absolutely no friggin business being here right now.
"See?" like he's been waiting this whole time to say it. "Isn't this better than leaving?"
You don't answer, you can't tell anymore if the withdrawal is talking or something worse.
He angled slightly – deeper, more deliberate – and your whole body lurches forward with it, the ropes catching you, swinging you right back onto him.
Sloppy sounds fill up the whole cabin until there's no room for anything else. Including your thoughts.
They keep arriving slower now, holding more weight, and you're not sure if you can keep holding onto hate anymore.
Or even remember why you were so upset in the first place.
He feels it immediately – the shift in you. Kazuha has always been terrifyingly good at reading things.
Wind.
Weather...The exact moment you're about to stop denying him.
"Ah-" You gasp- he grinds into your poor, bruised g-spot. "I-i… m’still f-fuckin’ angryy–"
"Of course," kissing up your neck, he inhaled deeply, smiling against you, "You're allowed to be."
"That's not-" A whine punches out of you when he rolls his hips just so. "That's not what I– ngh– t-that's not the point!—"
"Then what is my love?"
And you open your mouth to tell him. You have the answer…you know you do, it was right there a moment ago, something about how wrong this is, something about him taking your vision, something about how this isn't what you wanted.
His shaft drags slowww and thoroughly across that spot inside you, and every single word dissolves.
"Hm~?" Kazuha waits expectantly as the thoughts leave your face, morphing into something that isn't guilt anymore.
"It's alright." He presses a kiss to your temple. "You don't have to say it."
…He's already decided, somewhere in that poetic, completely unwell little heart of his, that this is love. That this is the right thing, that you'll understand eventually.
"Fuhck- ah! Kazu—" hips rolling back to meet him before you even register doing it—He shivers a single tremor moving through that carefully composed body, his breath catching audibly.
His rhythm stutters for just a fraction of a second. And then it happens — the thing he's been holding back since he tied you in the boats for days now.
"Y-you feel—" He stops, then tries again. "You feel so—" he really can't finish it.
Those eyes have gone somewhere glassy and distant — still looking at you, but seeing something past the surface of you, something he's been navigating toward for a very long time-
Both arms wrapping around you, silk ropes and all, folding you into him like something he's been holding in his hands for years and is only now allowing himself to keep.
His cock pulses deep. His breath comes apart completely.
"Don't leave," he moans into your hair, and it’s not a request or a command either. He’s already made up his mind and refuses to be argued with. “Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't—"
Your mouth falls slack, and you bring what little energy you have to bite into your fist as you scream, cumming all over his shaft.
Your walls clenching around him, as a sound slipped out, one you're sure you’ll be embarrassed about later.
Kazuha grunts, a hand jumping to his mouth, trying not to be loud.
Juices connecting you two, losing the careful rhythm entirely, and then he's shuddering against you, spilling deep, face buried in your neck, lips moving against your skin in something that might be your name or might be an unhinged poem or both.
Your vision flickers once behind him…going out.
…
The boat rocks gently in the silence that follows, his arms wrapped around you, holding you softly.
After a long moment, you hear him sigh.
"Im sorry..." A pause. "I just thought this was kinder."
🐊 KINICH — Got his lick back
SMACK!
"AH—!"
The sharp crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room like a hunter’s whip.
Your cry breaks out raw and humiliating, but Kinich doesn’t give you a second to breathe. His hand stays glued to the stinging flesh, squeezing hard enough to feel the heat bloom under his fingers while his other hand slides between your slick thighs.
“Spread.” Flat. Commanding. No room for argument.
You don’t.
So he forces you anyway — two fingers pushing past your dripping folds, stretching you open with that terrifying precision, curling right against the soft, spongy spot that makes your vision spark white.
The second your hips jerk forward to escape, his fist locks into your hair and yanks you right back onto his lap like a leash.
“Already this wet?” A low, almost thoughtful hum leaves him as he pulls his fingers free.
A thick, glossy string of your slick stretches between your hole and his fingertip, catching the low light.
“Running again… but your pussy keeps begging me to stay.”
You try to snap something back — anything — but he’s already lining up. The flared, swollen head of his cock nudges against your entrance once, twice, then pushes in with one merciless slide that steals every word from your throat.
“F-fuck- Kinich-!”
He bottoms out in one smooth glide, stretching you wide around his thick length until you feel him pressing right against the entrance of your womb.
Buried deep, letting your walls flutter and clench desperately around him while his breath ghosts hot against the back of your neck.
“You keep running,” he says quietly, almost thoughtfully, as he pulls back just enough to slam in again. The wet slap of skin on skin is filthy.
“Every time I tell you to stay. Every time you look at me like you’re already gone.”
SMACK!
Your body jerks hard at the next spank, a broken cry ripping from your throat.
Before you can crawl away, his arm hooks around your waist and hauls you right back down onto his cock, pinning you flat to the slick floor. The woven texture bites into your tits and stomach as he forces you to take every brutal inch.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls low, the first real crack in that calm tone.
His hips snap forward harder, cockhead smacking mercilessly into your cunt with every precise thrust. “You’re not leaving Natlan. Not again.”
Smooth, deep rolls of his hips that drag his veiny length along every sensitive ridge inside you. Your voice climbs higher, cracking on whimpers you can’t swallow down.
Drool slips from the corner of your mouth onto the floor while your thighs shake violently.
“Kinich-! puhleaseeee- it’s too much—”
“It’s not.” Another punishing thrust. “You can take it. You will.”
His hand snakes underneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit.
He pinches and rolls merciless little circles that have your walls clamping down around his cock like a vice. Your whole body seizes, pussy gushing slick down his length as he keeps fucking you through it.
“Don’t know why- Ngh-,” he rasps against your neck, voice fraying at the edges now, breath coming shorter. “Y’kept leaving me. Why ya- won’t stay put. ”
"Th-that's not— ah— that's not your problem!-"
"You made it my problem." A thrust that punches the air clean out of you. “So I found a solution. Gonna fill this tight little cunt until you’re swollen with my kid. Then you won’t have a choice.”
The words hit you like lightning. Your mind blanks for a second– “Wai-what—”
His cock swirls deep.
Pushing deeeep, his fingers pick up pace on your clit, dragging you toward something you've been denying this whole time, your walls fluttering desperately, your voice climbing so high it cracks—“No!- t-that’s genuinely insane!”
"It isn’t." He held a small, satisfied smile.
"That’s not a solution, that’s literally—fuckkkk!"
But your body betrays you completely, cutting you off. Your walls flutter wildly around him, milking his cock as a devastating orgasm rips through you.
You came hard, screaming into the floor, tears streaming, thighs clamping shut around his hand while your pussy spasms and gushes.
Kinich groans low, the sound raw and animalistic, the first time that perfect hunter composure truly fractures.
His hips stutter once, twice, then he buries himself to the hilt with a sharp snap, pressing so deep you swear you feel him in your throat.
“HNGH!—”
Thick, hot ropes of cum flood your womb — pulse after heavy pulse, so much and so warm it spills out around his pulsing cock almost instantly, smearing sticky and obscene between your bodies.
Grinding deep through every wave, slow and deliberate, like he’s determined to push every drop as far inside you as physically possible.
His arm stays locked tight around your middle, tattooed bicep flexing against your stomach, holding you exactly where he wants you.
“…Your body thinks it’s a perfect solution,” he breathes against your sweat-damp neck, voice hoarse but still terrifyingly calm. “Stop fighting it.”
You’re still shaking, still fluttering around his spent cock, when the reality crashes back in.
Tears prick hot at the corners of your eyes as you try to twist away from him, voice cracking with raw upset.
“No,” you choke out, voice hoarse and furious even while your pussy keeps weakly clenching around him like it’s trying to keep every drop he just gave you.
“I’m not getting pregnant. I’m not letting you trap me like this— you can’t just- you can’t-”
He doesn’t pull out.
If anything, Kinich sinks a little deeper, grinding the head of his cock against your overfilled cervix like he’s sealing it. His lips brush the shell of your ear, calm as ever, but the grip on your waist tightens possessively.
“You already are,” he stares, almost fondly. “Or you will be. Soon.”
You pushed him off hard, “Like hell–”
.
.
🐊
A month later, the humid air inside the Scions of Canopys midwife’s hut feels too thick to breathe.
You’re sitting on the low mat, knees drawn tight together like that might somehow undo everything, while the older woman hums softly and presses careful fingers along your lower belly.
Nausea still clings to the back of your throat. Your breasts ache. Certain smells make you want to retch.
You already know what she’s going to say.
Your captor behind you like a silent sentinel — arms loosely crossed, green-gold eyes half-lidded but missing nothing.
The midwife finally sits back on her heels, expression unreadable for a long beat.
“Congratulations! You're expecting,” she says, no question in her voice, your stomach dropping.
“It seems you're a month along, oh! The baby is healthy…you would be due…”
As the midwife drones on and on, pointing at the chart, you craned your head to glare at Kinich meeting his expectant gaze.
His expression, for once, was readable, and it only conveyed one thing:
‘You can deny it all you want, you’re stuck.’
🐊 LOHEN — Denial is a river
“LOHEN LET ME DOWN—YOU DONE LOST YO MIND.”
You thrashed wildly, hanging upside down from the thick rope coiled tight around your ankle.
The world swayed in sickening circles, blood rushing straight to your head while your own heartbeat hammered in your ears.
Dignity? Gone. Long gone.
Meanwhile, Lohen was losing his shit.
Full-body, stomach-clenching laughter poured out of him as he bent over, one hand braced on his knee, as if he might actually collapse from how hilarious you were.
Red eyes squinted with pure delight, tears pricking at the corners while he wheezed.
“HA- holy shit!-” He dragged in a gasping breath, still grinning like a maniac. “You really walked straight into that one. Fuck, you’re adorable.~”
He finally straightened up and stalked closer, head tilted as he studied your flushed, upside-down face.
That manic little smile curled slowly and hungrily across his lips, one that promised nothing good.
“You actually thought you could escape me?” he cooed, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Cute. Real cute.”
You glared hard enough to burn holes through him.
Lohen only stepped even closer, until he was right in front of your swaying body.
Two fingers reached out and squished your cheeks together like you were some grumpy little creature he’d caught.
“Look at that face,~” he sang, eyes sparkling with pure unhinged joy.
You jerked your head and sank your teeth into his thumb — hard.
A low, genuine, filthy sound punched straight out of his chest. His eyes fluttered, lashes kissing his cheeks.
You pulled back, staring at him in pure disgust and disbelief.
He stared right back, looking almost surprised at himself for half a second… before that wild grin crawled back onto his face, twice as wide.
“Fuck I think I just came a bit…Do that again.”
This fucking freak
His hand finds your face again - cradles it, almost, which was somehow more unsettling than if he'd gripped it.
Thumb pressing into your cheek while your head kept spinning, and the rope creaked above you.
“You’re turning such a pretty shade.~” voice soft and sweet like poison. “Wow, are ya really that happy I’m touching you?”
“YOU PSYCHOTIC LITTLE—”
“Mhm,” Lohen cut you off smoothly, not even listening. His eyes dragged over you slowly and warmly, completely shameless. “Most people would’ve seen the rope, y’know,” he said, like you weren’t literally hanging upside down from his trap.
“Well, most people aren’t being fucking hunted-”
“Nope.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, gentle and obsessive all at once.
“Just you… ‘cause iiiii loooove yooouuu.~” He drew the words out in that obnoxious, singsong way that made your skin crawl and your stomach flip at the same time.
You rolled your eyes so hard it made you dizzy.
Lohen hummed, tilting his head as he watched you sway.
That dangerous little smile never left his face while he tapped one finger against his chin like he was thinking.
“Now~” he purred, smirk widening with wicked promise.
“How should we fix that nasty little attitude of yours…?”
Fuck
.
.
🐊
“Cmon what are ya waitingggg forrr?”
You’re straddling him, completely humiliated, his thick cock buried to the hilt inside you while he lounges back like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.
Hands tucked lazily behind his head, mint-green hair splayed wild across the grass, that damn beauty mark crinkling as he grins up at you with pure psychotic delight.
You’re not moving.
Not one fucking inch, half out of overstimulation, half out of pure spite.
SMACK!
His palm cracks hard across your ass, the sharp sting making you jerk upward with a broken yelp.
The sudden movement drags your dripping walls along every veiny inch of him, Lohen moaning loud and shameless beneath you, biting his lips like he just tasted heaven.
“There ya gooo~” he coos, voice syrupy sweet with fake innocence. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I fuckin’ hate you—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, low and wheezy, eyes sparkling as he tracks every furious twitch on your face. “You gonna move properly, or do I gotta smack that pretty ass red again?”
You barely move.
Slow. Grudging.
The most resentful little roll of your hips that’s ever existed.
Throwing his head back he bursts into loud, unhinged laughter. “HAHAAH— fuck, look at you! So madddd~ So fucking upset and still creaming all over my cock.”
“Are you deadass right now-? Of course I’m mad-!”
“Faster.”
“What—?”
“Faster,” he repeats helpfully, tilting his head with that manic little grin. “You’re going reeeaaally slow, baby. My dick’s getting bored.”
You’re going to kill him.
Fuck it.
You’re going to cum and then kill him.
But your cunt says otherwise, pussy fluttering and sucking greedily around his thick length, no matter how much you glare at him.
Lohen’s eyes darken with hungry delight. He suddenly sits up, arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands, yanking you down flush against his chest.
Shaft grinding deep, bullying right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark white.
“F—fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, that primal edge slipping into his voice. “One more, yeah? Just one more f'me, pretty thing.”
“Lohen, you’ve said that,” You batted your eyes, fighting the pleasure, “-for hours, lemme go!”
“Mmm, doesn’t sound like an answer,” he purrs, rolling his hips up in a filthy, precise way that makes your toes curl. “Doesn’t sound like you’re saying no to me.”
He doesn’t even wait for your reply.
His forearms hook under your thighs, spreading you wide open like a ragdoll as he starts rutting up into you harder.
Wet, sloppy sounds fill the air with every thrust — squelch-squelch-squelch — his cockhead kissing your cervix over and over like he’s trying to knock right through it.
“Hm? Hah- mmph!, seems like someone agrees with me.~” he laughs breathlessly against your ear, nipping at the shell with sharp teeth. “Your pussy’s the one begging for more. Greedy little thing keeps gulping me down like she never wants me to leave.~”
You try to squirm, try to plant your feet and lift off him even a little, but Lohen just tightens his grip and fucks up into you even meaner, bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing.
“Hahhh?? Running again~?” he tuts, voice mockingly sweet. “Nahhh, we still got s’much more rounds to go, baby. Five? Or is it six? I lost count already.”
Your mind was blanking out; you've been doing this for so long, you couldn’t even form coherent sentences. “Fuh- no- mgh- I’m d-done!”
"Your pussy's not done~."
“My- p-puhssy–! Don’t getta vote!” You shatter instantly — eyes rolling back, a broken scream ripping out of you as your sixth orgasm crashes through your exhausted body.
Lohen screams loudly while your walls milk him tight, but he doesn’t stop.
“Ohh-Fuck fuck fuck! Here’s ah!- another one, baby!-” Cumming hard with you, filling you up - he keeps thrusting through your high, chasing every last flutter like a man possessed.
Thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your already overstuffed cunt. Grinding deeper, chasing every last flutter like a man completely possessed.
“Mmm—hah, there it is,~” he moans happily, beauty mark crinkling as he grins against your sweat-slick neck. Mint-green hair sticks to his forehead, messy and wild. “Good girl. That wasn’t for you, though~ That was all for this pretty pussy of mine.”
You’re sobbing now, chest heaving, body twitching uncontrollably in his lap. But Lohen just keeps bouncing you on his still-hard cock, slow and filthy, like he could do this forever.
“And she’s telling me…” he drawls, voice sing-song dropping into something darker, more dangerous, lips brushing your ear, “that you can handle three more.♡”
You flop forward against his chest, boneless and whimpering, barely able to hold yourself up. “A-asshole… h-hate you…”
Lohen’s manic laughter rings in your ear as he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion, never once letting his cock slip out of your spasming heat.
“Keep fighting it, baby. Keep telling me how much you hate me.” He leans down, eyes glowing with lovesick affection as he starts pounding you into the grass. “Makes my dick so fucking hard when you lie like that.”
You cry out, nails raking down his back as he folds you nearly in half, knees pressed to your chest.
Every thrust is loud, messy, obscene — the constant squelch of his cum being fucked deeper into you, the slap of skin, your broken sobs mixing with his breathless laughter.
“Look at her,” he coos, glancing down between your bodies where his cock disappears into your puffy, cream-filled pussy. “Still sucking me in so hungrily. Seems like she doesn’t wanna let go, does she?”
“Stop- I can’t-!!”
“You can,” he laughs softly, leaning down to bite your bottom lip. “And you will. ‘Cause every time you say you’re done… this cute cunt just begs for more.”
Picking up speed, pounding you into the grass with relentless, mind-melting strokes. Staring straight into your tear-filled eyes, beauty mark crinkling with that same unhinged grin.
“Three more, f’me baby. Then maybe- maybe I’ll let ya rest.~” His hands push your legs up to your head, angling deeper, making your eyes roll.
“Or maybe I’ll just keep going until you forget how to say the word ‘no’ at all.~”
🐊 LYNEY — Hole dirtier than laundry!
You're so sure you're going to fucking suffocate at this rate.
Lyney’s perched on your face like he weighs nothing, knees planted on either side of your head in the middle of his messy bed, sheets already twisted and half-pulled off the mattress.
That skimpy little lingerie set he’d been hiding under his coat all evening still clinging to his slender frame—purple lace stretched taut over his flushed cock, the thin strap of the thong shoved to the side so his pretty, leaking hole could sit right against your mouth.
The fabric’s soaked through already and so is he.
He’d wanted this for weeks.
The filthy thought had lived rent-free in that pretty head of his ever since the first time you turned your face away from his goodnight kiss.
Then again, when you shoved his hand off your waist.
Then again, when you told him to “fuck off” like it was nothing.
Every denial made it worse.
He got nervous—actually nervous—thinking you’d hate it.
That you’d push him off and call him disgusting for wanting something so selfish, so greedy.
But tonight you’d denied him one too many times, pushed him away with that same cold little glare, and this was the perfect excuse.
Discipline
Clean. Simple.
He could finally do it and blame you for making him snap.
Except he's the one losing his breath — soft, shaky exhales spilling from those painted lips every time your tongue brushes against his rim. That carefully constructed composure dissolves, piece by piece, every time you move beneath him.
“Mmmh—!” He grinds down harder, your hands flailing against his thighs, nails digging into lace and soft skin. “Cat got your tongue, mon amour~?”
His voice is all theatrical breathiness, that signature charm cracking at the edges.
Shifting his weight just enough for you to gasp in a desperate breath, only to sink back down again — ass firmly planted on your face, rolling his hips in slow, filthy circles.
The wet heat of his hole drags over your lips, your tongue, smearing slick and lube everywhere.
The sound Lyney makes when you're forced to lick him is loud enough that the entire wing's probably filing a noise complaint right now.
Ash-blond hair with that tiny braid falls messily around his face, violet eyes fluttering shut, cat-like pupils blown wide.
“F-fuck… just like- that!—ngh!”
His slender fingers fist the sheets above your head, hips twitching every time your tongue pushes inside.
“D-didn’t think you’d be so… eager to clean me up after all those- ah! Nasty words you threw at me this week. You sure you didn’t want this?~”
He laughs breathless, a little unhinged—and the sound melts into another whimper when you suck on his rim trying to get air.
The lingerie thong keeps slipping back into place, and he has to keep tugging it aside with shaky fingers, the lace now completely drenched.
"Haah — look at you. Flailing around.~" Another slow grind, deliberate and mean, his cock twitching hard against the lace as it leaks onto his stomach. "But you're not pushing me off, are you? No… you're licking deeper. Mmph!~."
You thrash hard, punching at his thighs, trying to get this sick man off your face. He either mistakes it for enthusiasm or simply doesn't care — the effect is the same.
His thighs shake harder, athletic muscles flexing as he rides your tongue with more urgency. That guarded side is completely gone.
Replaced by something rawer.
The need to be wanted so badly that it overrides everything else.
"Keep going, mon amour," he pants, voice pitching higher, "because if you stop — hngh — I swear I'll sit here until morning. Until you forget every nasty word you said to me… and only remember this."
His fingers thread into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your face exactly where he wants it.
Not until he’s satisfied. Not until you’re his again—completely.
He can feel it building — hot, coiling, dangerous. And he refuses to finish like this, not when he hasn't taken everything.
With a shaky laugh that doesn't quite hide the edge beneath it, Lyney finally lifts off your face — justttt enough for you to drag in a ragged breath, spit and slick smeared across your lips.
Lungs burning as you try to speak—“Lyney, wait—” and before you can get a single word out-
His cock impales your mouth in one smooth thrust—thick, leaking, stretching your lips wide around the base of his shaft.
You choke instantly, eyes watering, the sudden fullness reducing every word you had to a wet gluck-gluck-gluck.
His thighs lock firmly beside your head. "Mmmph — there we go." He rocks into your throat with shallow, greedy thrusts, voice dropping as his face disappears between your thighs. "That's it. Let me feel how sorry you are."
Leaning down his tongue is immediate and merciless — lapping, sucking, flicking over your clit with a precision that feels almost unfair.
One hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise. The other presses flat against your stomach, pinning you exactly where he wants you.
You push at his hips, a muffled protest vibrating around his length — he just rolls deeper, unhurried, his cock fucks your mouth in the same rhythm.
The room echoes with the wet sounds of him thrusting into your throat, mixed with the slurps of his mouth on your cunt.
"Don't- fight it, mon amour," he groans against your spreaded folds, the words vibrating straight into your core. "You don't get to push me away anymore. Not after all those mean words."
He sucks hard on your clit, hips stuttering as he holds back his own orgasm. "Not after telling me to leave like I'm nothing."
The lace thong is still tangled around his balls, rubbing against the bridge of your nose with every shallow thrust. His tongue curls, teasing your entrance before plunging inside—matching the way his cock bullies the back of your throat.
Your moans of reluctant protest are drowned out by his cock, completely overstimulated by how much of him you're feeling at once.
Every thrust pushes him deeper, every swirl of his tongue makes your legs shake. Whimpering into your cunt, the sound vibrating through you, but the words that slip out between licks are pure silk-wrapped venom.
"If I have to do this every night until you stop denying me—" A sharp suck on your clit. "—then I will."
His cock throbs heavily on your tongue. "I'll keep you right here. Until the only thing you know how to do is stay."
You try to pull off—hands slapping at his hips, a broken sob ripping from your throat around his shaft—but he just angles deeper.
The filthy gluck-gluck-gluck of him fucking your mouth fills your brain, your eyes streaming tears that mix with the spit dripping down your chin.
And he doesn’t stop, tongue lashes harder between your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth with a lewd pop! before flattening it again.
Mean. Possessive. Trying to pull your orgasm out by force.
Your thighs shake around his head, hips jerking up involuntarily as the pressure coils tighter-too much, too fast, too-
You cum with a shattered cry that vibrates straight down his cock.
Creamy slick gushes over his tongue, thighs clamping around his ears, and Lyney moans like he’s the one breaking. Holding himself right there on the edge—cock twitching wildly in your throat—until your walls start fluttering hard.
“F-fuck—ngh, that’s it—give it to me-”
His cock pulses hard on your tongue, swelling thicker, and then he’s cumming too.
Rope after rope shoots straight down your throat, thick and hot, until you’re choking on it, coughing up his seed around the length still buried between your lips.
He doesn’t pull out. Just keeps shallow-thrusting through it, forcing you to swallow every drop while he drinks you down like he’s dying of thirst.
The room spins. Your lungs burn. Tears won’t stop. While Lyney stays there a second longer, chest heaving, hips still twitching with the aftershocks.
Panting, he eased cock from your mouth with a slurp!
Strings of cum and spit connect your swollen lips to his tip. Lyney watches it break with half-lidded violet eyes, his cheek flushed red.
You’re still sobbing softly, chest heaving, when he finally flips around. He curls over you, pressing soft kisses to your tear-streaked cheeks, your trembling lips, like he didn’t just fuck your face and sit on you for "punishment".
“Shhh… mon amour,” he whispers, voice sweet as sugar, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “See? Wasn’t so bad. You took me so well… my perfect little assistant.”
Lyney's fingers thread back into your hair, holding you there as he nuzzles against your neck.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” A soft, theatrical little laugh brushes your ear.
“Or tomorrow.”
He kisses the corner of your mouth, tasting himself on you.
“Or ever.”
🐊 XIAO — Bite first. Regret later
BAM!
"I'm leaving- ” The wall meets your back before you finish the sentence. “-Xiao. I mean it this–"
The impact rattled your teeth, your breath was punched clean out of your lungs, he was just across the room, teleporting in a haze of green and black, shoving you against the wall.
Another sharp gasp to follow when Xiao drove into you again, deeper, meaner, like he was trying to carve his place inside you permanently.
This is the problem.
This has always been the problem.
He doesn't talk to you, doesn't tell you he needs you, doesn't acknowledge what this even is, what you are to him — just pulls you close when it gets too heavy and expects that to be enough.
Weeks of silence.
Weeks of watching him look straight through you like you're something precious he refuses to name because naming it would make it real, and real things can be taken away.
You're exhausted.
Your legs stayed locked tight around his narrow waist, thighs trembling violently.
"I—" You push at his shoulders. He doesn't move. "Stop. I said I'm leaving—"
The only thing keeping you from sliding down the wall was his iron grip on your ass, fingers imprinting in so deep you knew they’d leave bruises shaped like his hands for days.
Xiao doesn’t respond, no words, or explanation — just eyes burning with determined focus
The tattoo on his arm bleeds green into the dark.
"Let me go." Flat. Furious. You dig your nails in hard. "I- ah! Mean it! I'm n-not doing this anymore, I can't keep– pretending-!"
He looks at you.
Amber eyes completely unguarded for once — staring at you like you've already got one foot out the door and he's watching it happen and he still, still cannot make himself say the words that would fix it. Jaw locked tight, breathing ragged.
Hitting that little spot inside you, your whole argument stutters. "That's not—"
You try to hold onto the thread of it. "That's not good enough, you can't just — this doesn't fix anything—"
He drives deeper. Your back hits the wall harder.
"Xiao!"
Nothing.
Just that devastating eye contact and the brutal, relentless pace of him, he's decided if he can't say it, he'll just make you feel it instead.
Your nails rake down his arms. "Oh-! This is- fuck! Insane. Shit! Your hurtin!- You can't keep doing this and expect me to stay!-" You twist, trying to get leverage.
His hand wraps around your throat, forehead dropping to yours, eyes closing, and he stays there breathing hard while his hips find a slower, deeper angle that makes your vision dissolve at the edges.
The weight of his karmic debt presses down on the room like a physical thing. Ozone and something older, darker, filling your lungs with every breath.
You're furious, shaking, and overwhelmed.
But believe it or not, he was terrified of hurting you.
And yet he couldn’t stop.
"Shit, what do you want from me!?"
Instead of answering, he just bites down on your throat instead. Sharp. Claiming. So suddenly, your whole body arches into him against every intention you had.
A broken sound tears out of you—high and pathetic—and you immediately hate yourself for letting it slip.
Teeth sinking in harder, not enough to break skin but enough to mark, enough to own, and your cunt clenches around him so violently it makes him stutter.
Yanking you up higher, forcing your back to scrape against the wall, making you cry out in pain- as he drives in deeper.
The anger frays at the edges where the pleasure keeps burning straight through—white-hot and unforgiving.
“I h-hate you-” you gasp. Not true. Completely not true, and you both know it.
“You’re so—” Another broken moan cuts you off, raw and humiliating. “Infuriating.”
He makes a sound against your neck. Low. Pained. Even that tiny admission costs him something precious.
Still nothing.
You’re crying now—angry tears spilling hot and fast down your face, your body betraying you completely as he drives you up the wall again and again.
Each thrust shoves you higher toward something you don’t want to give him.
“Please,” you break, hating how small and wrecked it comes out. “Please just say it. Tell me you need me. Tell me I’m—that I’m yours, that this means something, that you’re not just going to let me disappear one day and feel nothing—” His entire body goes rigid.
Exhaling, his hand slides from your throat to cradle the back of your head.
His forehead presses so hard to yours it almost hurts, eyes squeezed shut, hips grinding deep and slow and devastatingly deliberate now.
Every roll of his hips drags his cock against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your vision spark white.
He still doesn’t say it, waiting for you to say exactly what he wants to hear.
Xiao pulls you in so tight you can’t tell where he ends, and you begin anymore. Your breast presses hard against his chest, breath coming in short gasps from how tight he’s holding you, bruises already beginning to bloom.
Maybe...
“I’m staying,” you whisper, defeated, wrecked, voice cracking on every syllable. “I-i’m yours. I’m not leaving. Just—don’t let go.”
The sound he makes is quiet.
Devastated and relieved in a way that breaks your heart a little. He comes with his face buried in your neck, shaking hard, one arm locked around your waist like even now he doesn’t trust you won’t vanish.
Thick, hot ropes of cum flood you—spurt after spurt—while his teeth stay sunk into your throat, muffling the broken groan that vibrates against your skin.
He keeps rolling through it, slow and possessive, making sure every drop stays deep inside you.
Afterward, the room is just breathing. Heavy. Sticky. Charged. Then, so quiet it barely exists:
“…Again.”
Not another round, you know that.
He wants to hear it again—the words he can’t say himself, confirmed in your voice, real and present and not leaving.
“I’m yours, Xiao.” You press your lips to his temple, voice hoarse and trembling. “I’m staying.”
His grip tightens instantly. Fingers digging back into your ass, cock still buried to the hilt and twitching inside you like it’s trying to root there forever.
Xiao still doesn’t say it back; you already know how he feels.
The dark, suffocating truth that settles in the quiet—in the iron grip of his arms and the door you both know he’d never let you reach—is that staying was never really your choice to make.
It stopped being your choice a long time ago.
…Some sick, exhausted piece of you doesn’t even want the choice anymore.
how they’d eat you out <3 heartslabyul vers! (more dorms coming soon)
MDNI
[a/n: i know someone else wrote a post very similar to this a while back but i cannot for the life of me find it to credit them :,( pls lmk if anyone finds it]
Riddle Rosehearts
he’s quite scientific about it, honestly
he knows all of the anatomy and everything, of course
so he definitely finds your clit—
but he doesn’t quite understand the appeal of going down on someone
that is, until he’s been the receiver
he simply must return the favor now
so he’s slow and unsure, but he will learn quick
riddle just needs to learn what makes you tick, and then he’ll definitely get the hang of it
he’s hesitant with it at first, his tongue gently flicking out onto your folds with caution
he really wants to satisfy you, so you can tell he’s nervous
so you might have to guide him once or twice
but once’s he’s gotten a good taste, instincts will probably take over
he’s definitely the type to whine or gasp as he eats you out
he also particularly likes sucking on and flicking your clit with his tongue when he’s feeling a little mischievous
he’s a little messy n inexperienced, but so, so passionate about your pleasure
once he’s gotten to know your preferences, he’ll be practically perfect for you
plus, he definitely prefers when you sit on his face, especially when he’s feeling submissive <3
Trey Clover
any time, anywhere, any position
you’re sitting on the kitchen counter? he’s kneeled with his head between your thighs, etc, etc
he’s EAGER
your pussy is the greatest sweet to him, and he’s savoring it
he’s overstimulated you to tears multiple times bc he just got lost in the sauce
so, yes, he gets SO pussy drunk
he’d gladly die between your thighs if his tongue’s in your sweet folds and your thighs are shaking around his head
trey actually just can’t get enough of you
it’s like he’s making out with your sweet, sweet cunt
when he pulls away for air, his glasses are askew and his lower face is absolutely covered in your shiny slick
he looks so hot like that, btw
and even hotter stuck between your thighs
he’ll beg you to sit on his face, with his nose nudging your clit as his big, strong hands spread your thighs and folds open
that’s when he takes his glasses off and truly dedicates it all to making you squirt on his face and tongue
but don’t think that his means he can’t be a tease!!
sometimes, when he’s feeling especially bold, he’ll focus only on your clit, letting your pussy spasm as he sucks hard
he knows exactly how brutal he can be, but you just taste so good!
Cater Diamond
oh he’s a smug one
a bully, even
he knows damn well that he’s good at going down on you
and he’s proud of it
too proud, perhaps
he talks to you the whole time, telling you just how wet and messy you are for him
he knows exactly what to do to make you cum over and over, and he’s abusing that power
sometimes, he times how fast he can make you cum
or, if he’s feeling mean, just how long you can hold it
but, if you ever want him to stop being all bratty, just sit on his face and smother him with your thighs
he’s be moaning immediately, it makes him so hot n bothered when you take charge like that
also, unsurprisingly, cater loves photos
his favorites are from when he’s left your little peachy panties on, and just sucked on your clit through the fabric
he’s such a tease
in that photo, there’s two clearly shining wet spots: one right over your sensitive little clit, and one more right below that where your little pussy leaked right through the thin pink cotton
anytime he sees the photo, he damn near cums in his pants, admiring how your slick turned the thin fabric all see-through and how your pretty little pussy was so, so wet for him
his other favorite is of his face, covered from lips down in your cum
it’s his favorite lip gloss
or maybe his favorite of him buried between your thighs, fucking you on his tongue
oh dear, there’s too many to count!!
Ace Trappola
ace is most definitely an amateur pussy eater
you’re his first, but he’s way too scared to admit that
so he probably tried to put it off for as long as possible
but he’s a changed man once he sees the wet spot in your panties
he loves licking you through the thin fabric, teasing your clit over and over
he is a little cocky to cover up his inexperience, but he shuts up as soon as he gets a good taste
he was hesitant, but once he licked a solid stripe from your folds up, he caged his arms around your thighs and pulled you flush to his face
he’s messy with it
VERY messy
he’s got no form, just frantic licks and sucks
if you taste this good just on your own, he has to taste you when you cum
it’s not a want, it’s a need for him
he’s so desperate, just endlessly pressing himself into you, begging you to cum
was he cocky before? yes
has your pussy trained him otherwise? hell yes
he’s so pathetic, rutting his hips into the mattress desperately
he needs you to cum on his face, and he’s begging and moaning into your cunt
when you finally do, he’s groaning out, mouth open and jaw slack, trying to taste all of you
just don’t tease him for the sticky mess in his boxers afterwards
Deuce Spade
sweet, sweet deucey <3
he lives to pleasure you
so when you ask him to go down on you, blush will run over his face and he’ll nervously accept
he’s definitely the type to try to do some research, not bc he’s dirty minded or anything, but bc you’ve been his first for everything and he really wants to make you feel good
he’s so sweet i wish he were real
when the time comes, he’s so gentle and slow with you, constantly checking with you
he’ll definitely need some guidance, but he’s trying so hard already
he finds that he really like the feeling of your plush thighs shaking on either side of his head
he loves how they squeeze him when you’re close
he’ll lap at your cunt gently, pressing light kisses and whispering sweet praise
he finds himself getting a little lost in the moment, moaning into your sweet cunt as he relishes in the sweet taste of your slick
he does get a little pussydrunk, and he might beg you to sit on his face <3
once he’s gained some confidence, he’s real passionate about it, with his tongue stimulating your sensitive hole just right, and his lips closing around your puffy, swollen clit
all the whole, he talks about how pretty you are and how good you taste
he might accidentally overstimulate you, but he’s so lovingly careful taking care of you afterwards
he’s definitely gonna be begging you to do this again <3
likes, reblogs, + comments are much appreciated <333
I was too scared to watch edward scissorhands has a kid but I thought about how could a woman go through pregnancy with a fetus growing metal scissors hands it took years of theorizing, still without watching the movie, to even think that maybe he wasn’t born with scissor hands
Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends.
❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist.
❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N".
❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!
“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!”
5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks.
“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.”
Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”
Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.”
Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate.
“Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm.
“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!”
“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words.
“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips.
“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?”
“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.”
Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.
“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds, “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.”
Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.”
Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.
“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?”
He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”
“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.”
If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something.
He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.
“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?”
Yes. They all nod their heads.
“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.”
Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.”
“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.”
They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind.
Unbearably unaware of their true nature.
Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting.
The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined.
“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.”
How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone.
No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.
Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke.
"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."
Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.
“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”
“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.”
Excellent.
“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!”
“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.”
“Karlach!”
“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.”
“Gale?!”
“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”
“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!”
Hiii can I request the second year's dating reader who's a vampire? Basically reader is in desperate need of blood. Would they nonchalantly offer up their neck? And how would they take care of us after?
The Second years with a vampire sweetheart ⭑.ᐟ
Content ― Reader is Yuu, reader is a lady, not proofread, SUGGESTIVE, reader is a vampire, idk why all the scenarios are on a bed, established relationship, blood, some kissy kissy, also just imagine that Crowley gets a supply of blood for you but it came late or something.
6904 Word count⌇this request was sooo much fun to do, I love vampiresss and I hope you like it!! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )
Riddle ⋆˙⟡
♡ I think people often characterise Riddle as judgmental, but let's just remember that he's the house warden of Heartslabyul―the house based on Alice in Wonderland. So, if you were a vampire, he would actually be completely fine with it (in fact, he's rather fond of it), after all, he's seen much more unusual things. Even when you turn ravenous from the shortage of blood, Riddle doesn't feel fear. No, he's absolutely fuming that Crowley hasn't been feeding you properly!
♡ You mention it hesitantly, knowing how short-tempered Riddle can be at times. You were right to be scared. Because if you thought he was going to let it slide that his beloved has to starve because some little idiot headmaster made a mistake, you were horribly wrong. In the next hour, Crowley gets sent approximately thirty-two letters stating what an absolute idiot he is. Though (don't worry) eventually, you manage to calm Riddle down.
"Riddle, honey―it's fine, really!" You glance over his shoulder, watching him write like a madman.
"Nonsense! The headmaster did an awful thing. My rose, you have to learn not to let people boss you around like this." Sigh, good luck trying to stop him.
♡ Now, when it comes to discussing whether he would let you drink his blood or not...of course he would! Firstly, he wouldn't offer right away; he has to scold you (just) a little bit. Riddle reminds you how important taking care of your health is, and although he will let you bite him, you need to keep track of how much sustenance you have and alert him the second you feel hungry. Secondly―actually, no wait, that's it. Riddle has been very on edge since your energy/mood declined from the lack of blood, so he commands you to bite him straight away! After all, the last thing he wants is for his beloved to die on him (ó﹏ò｡).
♡ Due to these circumstances, Riddle lets you boss him around as much as you like. You want to sit on his lap whilst you suck his blood, okay, great! Oh, you want to lay down? That's fine too―all that matters is that you're comfortable. Once you've had your fill, Riddle checks at least ten times whether you are actually satisfied or not―even going as far as to ask you if you need even more! But alas, you wouldn't take advantage of him like that (or would you...).
↳ "Alright, are you comfortable, my rose?" Riddle fusses, fluffing up the pillow behind you. "Ah! Perhaps you might want another blanket, I'll just go get―"
"Just stay, Riddle!" You interrupt with a pout on your lips. Pulling on his hand, you drag him closer to where you sat on his bed. "All I need is you." Well, yes―you need his tasty blood, of course.
Riddle sighs before sitting down next to you. "I apologise, my love..." Shaking his head, he places a hand on top of yours, patting it gently. "I... worry over your condition."
With wide eyes, you gasp―is he scared of you? "Riddle I―"
"Pardon, I'm just speaking nonsense." With reddened cheeks, Riddle begins to unbutton his shirt. "You're going to be just fine after you feed, after all." He forces a small smile.
You remain silent, scooching to sit on his lap, your fingers wandering to a spot on his neck. Suddenly you ask, "Are you afraid of me?"
"Nonsense!" Riddle blurts out. "My dear rose, you've gone almost two weeks with no sustenance. I worry for you!" Quickly, he motions you closer, his hand placed gently on the back of your head. "Please, I need you to drink."
So you do. At first, it was uncomfortable, digging your fangs into your boyfriend's skin. But then came the pleasure, and the sweet, sweet taste of fresh blood on your tongue. You gulped down the liquid, hands pawing his shoulders desperately for more.
But then came a gasp. Hearing Riddle's voice, your eyes shot open, whining sadly at his pain. Though when you looked at his face, you quickly assessed the situation for what it was. Ehem, awkward....
He must have realised you were concentrating on his blushing face, his hand quickly guiding you to resume drinking. "P-Please, don't focus on me, my rose." As you continue to feed, Riddle kept his noises to a minimum, most likely not wanting to be teased later.
Soon, the dryness in your throat had finally dimmed―all thanks to your boyfriend's generosity. With one last gulp, you pulled back, wiping your blood-stained mouth with your pyjama sleeve.
Riddle tuts at your messiness, before letting out a long, relieved sigh, which was quickly followed by a grin. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, "How are you feeling now? Better, I hope."
Without wasting another second, you embrace your lover in a warm hug, placing a sorry kiss on the bite mark left on his neck. "Much better." You sigh lovingly into his skin. "I'll thank you properly later, okay?"
Dropping his head back onto the pillow, Riddle laughs bashfully at your suggestive remark―his beloved had such a way with words. "I'm glad you're back to your usual self."
Ruggie ⋆˙⟡
♡ Ruggie knows what it is like to be hungry, starving even. So when your face begins to pale, and your mood dims―he knows what he needs to do. Yes, Ruggie does believe that letting his girlfriend take a bite out of his neck is very freaky and quite frankly scary―but he loves you! And if that means that you need to suck his blood, he is willing to take a risk and let you. In fact, perhaps the first thing he does once he notices you're hungry is offer himself up.
♡ I understand that people have the opinion that Ruggie never does things without a price, even for his partner, but that is simply not true! Yes, he may make a similar remark here and there, but this is a serious situation. Ruggie casually offers his neck up like he's discussing the weather, so much so that your first instinct is to immediately turn him down. Only a couple of days have passed since your last feeding, and you weren't even that hungry! (yet). But no, Ruggie doesn't take that for an answer, so for the next week or so, you have to endure his teasing little remarks like, "Hungry yet?" "Oooh~, doesn't my neck look so tasty today?" and, "I just ate sweets, so my blood probably tastes just like a doughnut right now, ain't that cool?"
♡ Maybe the reason isn't just because you feel guilty drinking your boyfriend's blood; perhaps you've just never done it before. And if that's the case, that's alright―Ruggie's got you! The next thing you know, the two of you spend an evening watching videos of leeches and vampire-finches―what a beautiful bonding experience ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )! Though I can't say it helped you much, in fact, it just made you more scared...
"EEK! Ruggie, turn it off now!" You squeak, quickly covering you eyes with your hands.
"Whoa...that's some freaky shit." Ruggie squints his eyes and leans closer to his phone screen.
"NOW, RUGGIE!"
♡ And when he finally convinces you...it's like music to his ears. It's not like he wants to be bitten, per se, but he just doesn't want you to die, okay! (So stop with the biting kink allegations, perv...jk). He truly tries to make you comfortable; he even steals the good pillows and blankets from Leona's room. Even though you don't need water, he still has it on the bedside table to soothe your throat afterwards (and a first aid kit just in case you go a bit wild.)
↳ "Ruggie, I think I'm gonna die of hunger..." You crumble down and onto his lap, whining sadly into his neck. Ruggie gently caresses your head, leaning back onto the pillows to make you more comfortable.
"Aw, don't start cryin' now, sweet cheeks." Ruggie hums, tilting up your chin. "I already told you I don't mind." It was true, he had so generously offered you his neck a couple of moments ago, to which you nervously declined―but here you were anyway.
"I've never drunk from anyone before! M'nervous..." You quietly grumble into his skin.
Ruggie light-heartedly snickers, patting your head with his hand. "I'm the one gettin' bitten, you know?" With a sigh, he clumsily takes off his pyjama top, fully committing, no matter how nervous he may feel. "Soo... from the neck, yeah? Just give it your best shot, baby."
You position yourself better, straddling his lower stomach. Your eyes flicker from Ruggie's, then to his neck, and so forth. What if you bite too hard and accidentally murder your only boyfriend? Eeek!
Leaning forward, you try to sink your teeth into a spot on his neck, only to not even break skin―keep at it and the best thing you'll leave is a hickey. Sucking in a breath as your teeth plunge deeper, Ruggie says, "'K-Kay, going good. Ya almost got it."
When you finally break skin, Ruggie doesn't dare to take another breath. It hurts like a bitch, but the thought of his lovely lady being fed turns pain into pleasure.
As for you? You felt bad thinking it, but your boyfriend tasted amazing! His thick, hot blood soothed the ache in your throat, his now shaky hand gently cradling the back of your head, encouraging you to keep feeding.
Your eyes flicker up to Ruggie's face, noticing his tight-lipped expression and feeling a sense of guilt, knowing you were the one to inflict pain upon him.
As though he was reading your mind, Ruggie comforts you, "Heh, don't worry about me, sweet-cheeks. J-Just keep sucking my blood like a cute little mosquito."
Finally, you were satisfied―releasing your tight hold on Ruggie as you licked the dribbles of blood rolling down his skin. You took a proper look at your boyfriend, noticing how pale and drained he looked; it was frightening. Though one thing still hadn't changed, Ruggie still have that goofy smile on his face.
"Are you alright, Ruggie?" You asked in concern, your hand skimming over the bite in his neck.
Ruggie simply snickered, moving to rest back on his elbows. "Eh, I'll live." His shoulders shook as he laughed once more, his thumb reaching up to slide over your bottom lip. "Hehe, you're such a messy eater." Uh oh, embarrassing...!
Azul ⋆˙⟡
♡ Azul has never minded, not once, that you have an insatiable thirst for blood―the deep sea holds many worse characteristics, of course. He orders the finest supply of blood bags for you every week to quench your thirst, making sure you are happily fed. Though it has come to Azul's attention that your food is yet to be delivered this week, perhaps there has been a shortage of blood in the market as of late―what utter baffoons, don't they know he has a hungry beast counting on him? Azul reassures you like a good lover does, telling you to "Wait a little longer, dearest." But as days pass with no luck, it seems this may be a problem after all.
♡ Seeing the saddened look on your face makes Azul's heart ache, your cheeks hollow and pale as though he himself was starving you. No, this simply won't do. Perhaps, just for the time being, it would be all right for you to feed off him. The thought of being bitten by a blood-sucking creature such as yourself does make Azul a tinge nervous―though also undeniably endeared. He brings the idea up to you after a particularly hard day, softly caressing the side of your face as you lie like a sickly child on Azul's bed.
I...I have taken this into careful consideration, and the thought of you withering away like this pains me." Azul sighs, his eyes flickering to your doe-like orbs―your expression pulling at his heartstrings.
"D-Due to these circumstances...Would you care to feed off me?"
♡ Like what I said in Ruggie's part, Azul also watches educational videos on blood-sucking beasts, though this time in secret. Of course, there's nothing wrong with this at all! In reality, it's quite endearing to know that he's doing his research on similar species to yours―but he doesn't know that! So with the information he discovered, Azul aims to make your experience enjoyable (even though both of you are kind of terrified).
♡ While Azul will let your feed off him, it will have to be planned in advance; he needs to make sure the two of you won't be interrupted, after all. When the hunger is too much for you to handle, up to the point where you can't even manage by yourself, he lets you cling to his side the whole day. Even when he's deep in his paperwork or studying for a test, you'll be there on his lap or lying right beside him―when it comes to you, he's not the selfish man people make him out to be.
↳ You stand nervously on one side of the bed, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your night gown as you watch Azul stand on the other. He seems anxious, too, you think to yourself. You quickly avert your gaze as you meet his. It really shouldn't be like this at all. You've made out with him tons of times! Why is this so much different (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞?
This was... awkward, to say the least.
Though finally someone decides to speak up, "E-Ehm, how would you... Like to begin, my pearl?" Uh oh, now it was your turn to speak.
Glancing over to his bed, you blurt, "I wanna lie down." before quickly adding on, "t-together, please."
Azul nods with a small smile. It was kind of cute watching him try his best to make you feel comfortable. You shuffle down onto your side, eyes peering up at him as he does the same, his fingers quickly untying his robe.
"You have nothing to be nervous about." Azul takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles tenderly. "It will all come naturally to you, I'm sure of it." Placing one last peck to your skin, he guides you closer, placing your hands on his body. "Any spot will do, my love."
With your lips resting against his neck, you breathe in deeply, relaxing into Azul's comforting embrace. And then you do it. You cringe as you feel his skin break, but soon all the discomfort you felt previously turns into a sensation you can only describe as pure, utter desperation. His blood was intoxicating.
"H-Hah... very good work, beloved." Azul forces a smile, trying to keep things civil for your sake. "Such sharp f-fangs you have..." Though this was a very painful predicament, he was glad. Though this started off.... rocky, Azul was happy you found the confidence to keep drinking.
And before he knew it, you let go. Your jaw softened as you released your hold on him, slumping breathlessly against his chest. Your now-rosy face hid away from his gaze, the realisation that you acted so wildly dawning on you.
Azul doesn't let it slide, though. With furrowed brows, his hand tilts your bloodied face to meet his, chuckling softly at your messy expression. "Mm, I am so proud of you, my dear." Releasing you, he lets you hide away once more, his arms wrapping around you gently. "You have such a strong bite, it's fascinating..."
Jade ⋆˙⟡
♡ Since the day Jade met you, he has read EVERY single book in the school library that includes the history of vampires, their diet, behaviours, etc. Trust me when I say this, he is the biggest vampire nerd you know. So once you mention how hungry you've gotten as of late, he knew it was his time to shine. It's not like he's glad you're suffering―oh no, of course not. Jade is worried sick for his beloved! But...He's always wondered what it would be like to be bitten by one of your kind.
♡ He doesn't bring up the idea to you straight away―no, you have to be the one to ask. Jade doesn't mean to be cruel or teasing; he knows you desire to drink his blood, and he wants you to admit it. In the meantime, though, he absolutely babies you. Aw, you feel tired from the lack of energy? You poor thing―why don't you lie down for the rest of the day as Jade does all your homework for you! You're moody because you haven't had blood for a while? That's alright, Jade is here to hold you and caress your silken locks till you relax.
"Jade, tell your stupid brother to stop calling me feisty―I. am. not. feisty!" You stomp your foot angrily.
"My my, how rude of him." His arms wrap around you, resting his cheek on the top of your head as he rubs your back with a coo. "It's alright, my beloved, he will be thoroughly dealt with."
♡ With everything being said, if you are too shy to ask him if you can puncture his skin with your fangs and drain the blood out of his body, that's alright too. After all, you are his beloved, and boy, does he have a soft spot for you. Jade simply lays you down on his bed, fluffing up the pillows beneath you with his shirt unbuttoned. Of course, he loves to test people's patience, even driving them to the brink at times with a sinister smile on his face. But his weakness is you―and there is no way he's going to let you starve.
♡ My, what a thrilling experience that was! Apart from feeling dizzy, Jade feels quite satisfied. Besides, that drowsy, happy expression on your faces makes him feel very pleased. Looking down at you, he sees small puddles of red on your clothing and skin―though Jade isn't exactly very clean either. This whole situation is rather amusing to him, from the bashful pink on your cheeks to the bite on his neck. What a fulfilling day this has been. After your feeding, Jade runs a bath for the two of you, dumping your blood-stained clothes into the wash. Now, as he washes the red off your body, he concludes one thing―you must do this again.
↳"My, what an adorable expression that is." Jade chuckled.
This was not adorable; this was embarrassing! You insisted you were fine. Yes, perhaps you were starving and going mad from the lack of blood, but that wasn't Jade's problem to worry about! But no, here you were, lying beneath him with his shirt unbuttoned and his neck practically saying, "Bite me! Bite me!"
"Jade, this is so humiliating!" You whined, letting out a small 'tsk' at his foolishness. But still, Jade didn't plan to change his intentions.
"Why? This is natural for your kind, dearest." He simply pulled down the collar of his shirt even more, exposing his JUICY collarbone. Jade raised his brows, snickering mischievously. "Unless...You want me to demonstrate on you first?"
You gasped, there is no way he's gonna bite into your baby-soft skin (•̀⤙•́ )! "Okay, okay!" A heavy sigh rings out through the room. "I'll do it, idiot."
Moving closer to his neck, you glance back up at Jade, looking for reassurance. In reply, he cradles the back of your head, pushing you down closer to his skin. It's only when he feels your teeth graze his neck that he says, "That's a good girl."
With Jade's hold on you, urging you to continue, you bite down. You squeeze your eyes shut as you taste the first drop of blood, the flavour overwhelmingly delicious. Your arms swing around his neck, gripping onto the fabric on his back.
In return, Jade lets out a breathless laugh, entertained by your enthusiasm. This whole ordeal makes him pleased. He's grateful you decided to feast on him after all―It would be devastating if you let yourself rot away.
Your fingers curl into Jade's shirt―humming in delight at the warm taste of blood. He was intoxicating. So much so that your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer into your embrace.
"E-Easy now, my dear. I'm not going anywhere." Jade gazes down at you, smiling at your blissful expression. The pain is invigorating―but still, Jade can't help but want more.
With one final gulp, your head falls back onto the pillow―eye's blown wide as you gasp out of breath.
Jade's hand sits on your forehead, calming you with the stroke of his thumb. "That's it, I hope your satisifed." He kisses your blood-stained cheek, curious about the blood dribbling down your chin. "Do you feel better now, dearest?"
You manage to give him a nod through your fit of giggles―it looks like Jade is wearing bright-red lipstick! "Hehe―much better!"
Jade simply brushed off your sudden laughter; who knows what odd thing made you amused this time? Lastly, he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, though this time, he remains close. "You know I didn't mean to be forceful earlier, I simply wish the best for you."
You smile sweetly, "I know, that's why I love you."
Floyd ⋆˙⟡
♡ Listen, I know people love to say that Floyd's into biting, so unpopular opinion, but I think Floyd would be the most scared out of everyone. That's not to say he wouldn't let you do it, because he absolutely would, but let's just say the thought of you biting into his flesh and sucking his blood makes him a little freaked out ( •᷄ᯅ•᷅ ). It all starts when you tell him that Sam's shop has yet to restock with blood bags. At first, Floyd doesn't think anything of it―no biggie, worst comes to worst, Azul could probably arrange something for his little blood-sucking shrimpy. Another day passes, you're still hungry―all whiny and snappy, and it frightens him...
♡ Floyd tries cooking you a delicious meal―he knows you only consume blood, but maybe his mother's famous seafood soup will satisfy you for now? Spoiler alert: it doesn't. At this point, Floyd is panicking―he knows he's next on the menu and it's only a matter of time before you sink your teeth into him. No matter if you're small or short, big or tall, all he sees is a hungry beast. Even if you just wanna give your boyfriend a hug―Floyd screeches and runs away. Who knows? Maybe you were really trying to bite him!
"AH!" Floyd yelps. Your arms wrap around Floyd from behind, nuzzling your cheek onto his back. "Huh? What's the matter, Floyd?"
He tenses, gulping as he stays unnaturally still. "Are ya still hungry, shrimpy?"
♡ He confides in Jade, whining to him, asking what on earth he should do! Jade simply laughs slyly, "Ohoho. Floyd, it is simply the way of the world." He explains. "Think of it this way, Yuu is a sea-lamprey, and you are a helpless lake-trout. Understand?" Floyd should've known he would say that. Finally, he accepts his defeat―if his little shrimp was hungry, he was gonna be the prey she deserved to devour.
♡ And actually, being bitten wasn't so bad in the end. Sure, Floyd was terrified at first―but it was a nice feeling seeing you so happy after being fed. Before, when you were starving, you were like an angry ball of fire. But now? Gosh, it looked like you won the lottery! You were so happy that you couldn't stop smooching and hugging your boyfriend, thanking him endlessly, "You're so sweet, Floyd!" He's so dazed from the loss of blood, he doesn't even realise your cheeky murmurs on how delicious he tasted (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝).
↳"Floyd, you promised you'd let me!" You angrily cross your arms and thump your foot on the floor.
Floyd winces at your raised tone before motioning you over to sit down on your bed. Yes, it was Floyd himself who offered you his blood, but can't a guy second-guess himself?
"I will, Promise, Shrimpy! You're just freakin' me out a little, is all." His thumb shakily glides over your fangs, jolting when it pricks his skin, a bead of blood rolling down his hand. "Man... that's gonna be my neck in a minute..."
You let out a dramatic and impatient sigh, causing Floyd to slump his body down onto the mattress, your hips settling over his lower stomach. Pulling down the collar of his shirt, you see his naked neck, your stomach gurgling. Placing a delicate kiss on his cheek, you reassure him, "I'll be as gentle as I can."
Floyd gently guides your head back to his neck and pats it firmly. "Just get better, 'kay? Don't need you dyin' on me."
Hesitantly, you bite down―squeaking as blood rushes into your mouth. It was different this way, with no bad plastic taste in your mouth, unlike when you feed from a bag. Floyd's blood was warm, a sense of comfort rushing over you as you drank. Although he was hesitant, you knew how much he cared for you, you always do.
"H-Hah, good little shrimpy." Floyd, on the other hand, felt oddly relaxed. Boy, did it hurt like hell. But in a way, he felt blissed out. He craned his head down, glancing at your face―he couldn't help but giggle, you just looked too cute! Maybe Jade was right―you were like a sweet little sea lamprey
His long arms pull you closer, tugging your hair away from your face, gently stroking your locks. "C'mon, keep g-goin', till you're n-nice and full." Floyd eyes one of your hands, watching it move to rest on his chest.
You force yourself to detach your lips from his neck, panting with droplets of blood rolling down past your chin. For the first time in five minutes, you peer down at your boyfriend―watching him breathlessly laugh, (what a goof).
"Thank you, Floyd. I love you s'much!" Your nose snuggles into his cheek, blood smearing onto his skin as you kiss him repeatedly. "I feel sooo amazing now. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Uugh―shrimpy, you're getting Floyd juice all over me!"
Kalim ⋆˙⟡
♡ Kalim acts like you're a dying woman. I mean literally, if he's not crying into your arms or doting over your every move, something's wrong with him. It's not something that gradually happens either, just as soon as it's confirmed that Crowley messed up your blood-bag supply. He's absolutely devastated for you; it's like he can feel your hunger. At one point, Kalim even offers to fast so the two of you can suffer together―along with some other strange ideas.
♡ Jamil manages to calm him down a little bit, not much, but it's a start! Although Kalim is too miserable to throw any parties (I know, shocker), he still manages to go all out. He tries to make you taste all different kinds of cuisine, just in case you can magically eat human food, and makes sure you're as snug as a bug by giving you an endless supply of bedding and pillows. If that somehow wasn't enough, boxes and gifts get delivered to your doorstep every morning and night, because makeup and pretty necklaces can surely cure your hunger―just kidding, Kalim is a sweetie pie ( ⸝⸝´ ᵕ `⸝⸝).
♡ And if you're wondering if he lets you have a wee taste of his blood, he practically begs Jamil. Why ask Jamil and not you, you may ask? Well, because he realises Kalim's intentions the second the idea pops into his head―and he does everything he can to stop him. It's not that Jamil doesn't like you―no, no, no, of course not! In fact, he's eternally grateful that you help deal with Kalim's antics. It's just that what if something happens to him (like passing out), and Jamil has to deal with the consequences?
"Jamil, please let me! My sweet, gorgeous jewel is suffering!" Dramatic tears swell in Kalim's eyes, his hands pleading together helplessly.
Jamil simply rolls his eyes, ignoring the boy entirely. "Kalim, you're not five anymore. Get off your knees already."
♡ Oh, but he finds a way. Kalim skips club activities because he knows Jamil is busy playing basketball―and this is his time to strike. He snatches your hand and pulls you along to Scarabia, tiptoeing into his room as quietly as possible. Only then can you finally have your feast (๑>•̀๑). But who am I kidding? Jamil definitely finds out once he sees how you mysteriously regained all your energy the next day.
↳ "W-Wait, Kalim!"
Kalim pulls you into his bedroom, giggling in glee as he slams the door shut behind you.
"Ha ha! Isn't this so exciting?" He rushes over to the mirror at his desk, sitting down on the floor as he unclasps the jewellery around his neck. Turning around to face you, Kalim pats his thighs excitedly, beckoning you to sit down.
You look around cautiously before choosing to sit down in front of your boyfriend. You shaky hands fiddle in your lap before choosing to speak, "I'm not sure if this is such a good idea..."
He pouts like a sad puppy, resting his chin on his hands as you express your concerns. Perhaps Kalim doesn't see all the complications of his decision...
"What if I accidentally take too much blood and you pass out or something?" You huff, "Jamil's gonna be so mad at us, you know..."
With one eager pull to the waist, you end up sitting in Kalim's lap, his arms cradling you like a precious gem. "But this is a very urgent matter!" He insists, playfully pinching your cheeks before patting them better. "―and as your boyfriend, it's my duty to take care of you."
In the blink of an eye, Kalim flings his shirt across his floor, opening his arms wide as though to encourage your behaviour. "Come on, pretty, bite me―I can take it!"
You sigh heavily, pouting your lips before slowly leaning in. "I am pretty hungry..." goosebumps appear on his neck as you whisper. "Fine, but it's gonna really hurt, Kalim."
Kalim giggles as your lips caress his skin―sharp fangs biting down until droplets of blood slide down his chest. Your bite, moaning softly as hot liquid fills your mouth, heavenly.
"Wow―ha ha, y-you're so strong!" Indeed, you were, you sharp nails digging into his shoulders, your body unable to stay still. With a loud thud, Kalim's head bangs onto the floor, your body landing on his.
"A-Ah!" he seethes through his teeth, the pounding on his head mixed with your harsh bite sends pain through his spine.
You don't seem to notice, though, licking your lips happily as you finish up your tasty meal. A satisfied grin appears on your lips as you kiss your beloved's cheek. "Mmm, thank you, baby!" It seems your sweet demeanour returns once again.
Despite Kalim's struggles, he still manages to smile gently at you. "Anytime, my sweet."
Jamil ⋆˙⟡
♡ Okay, for starters, I think you being a vampire may have caused some difficulties in your relationship at the start. Jamil wasn't scared, per se, but at first, I think he definitely had some trust issues. If we're talking present time, I reckon the two of you have, let's say... connected over your differences. And now, as you stumble upon this current dilemma of starvation and whatnot, Jamil's closed-off demeanour starts to soften a little bit for you. For anyone else, the topic of someone feeding off me would be a hard no, but when it comes to his beloved...
♡ If you asked him first, Jamil most likely would agree. But if you simply endured your starvation? He would observe you. Hold on, I know it sounds a bit strange, but let me explain. Going back to the topic of trust issues, I think a part of Jamil wonders if losing control and being attacked by you would be a possibility―a possibility that makes Jamil wanna cry (•́ ᴖ •̀). He doesn't want to think that way, of course, but he just can't get the thought out of his head.
♡ And when a week or two passes, and although you cry from exhaustion and whine to Jamil all day long, you have been a very well-behaved little vampire (yay)! So you've earned it―the right to much on your boyfriend. I would also like to say that, like the others, Jamil doesn't take satisfaction in seeing you suffer, because he really, really hates it! And like Jade, he does try to make your life easier by doing tasks for you. He even offers to sleep beside you at night, since he knows how much it comforts you (and he also wants to make sure you don't like, turn to dust in your sleep or whatever vampires do.)
Your head falls on Jamil's shoulder, nose nuzzling his warm neck. It alarms him at first, until it doesn't―until he realises it's you. "That bad, huh?"
You nod sleepily, digging your face deeper into his comforting warmth. The hunger was overwhelming.
He smiles softly, shaking his head at your clinginess. "Silly girl." He pats your head gently.
♡ Now, this whole 'drinking blood thing' the two of you have going on is a secret affair. I mean, this is gonna take place in the late hours of the night, in your room (Grim is out of the picture tonight), and he absolutely makes you promise to never bring this up to anyone, especially Kalim. As I write this, I realise that some people may think Jamil to be mean in this fic, but understand this: Jamil is in love with you. So much so, he needs to see that if you do such an intimate act together, you won't take advantage of his vulnerability.
↳ "You do look unwell." Jamil crouches down in front of you, examining your pale and exhausted features.
Your hands fidget in your lap, shaking your head with a guilty pout. "You don't have to, Jamil. I promise I can wait a little longer―"
Jamil quickly cuts you off, standing up straight to slip off his shirt. With a small sigh, he folds the clothing and places it on your bedside table. "You're hungry, aren't you?"
You nod bashfully. Like always, he was right.
Jamil smirks softly, nodding his head along with your answer. "Then that's that." He sits against the headrest of your bed, pulling you to sit on his lap. Only he knows he can see the sharpness of your fangs―a wave of unease settling in his stomach.
You sensed it straight away. Eager to provide comfort, you speak, "I love you, Jamil." Okay, straightforward much. Quickly, you add, "even if your blood is really tasty, I won't take too much, okay?"
He laughs at your foolishness, pinching his temple. Now, he holds you a little tighter. "Wonderful," Jamil replies sarcastically, pulling his long hair to the side. "...I don't want you to worry about me. Drink until you're satisfied." How charming!
With a peck to his cheek, you lean in to his neck, looking up for a moment to see him nodding in confirmation. You bite down, trying to ignore the small gasps of pain that spout from your beloved's mouth. His blood is thick, sickeningly sweet. Hot liquid soothes the ache in your throat; you feel it glide down to the depths of your stomach.
"H-Hah―"Jamil gasps, red decorating his cheeks from the sudden sound. Noticing how he alarmed you, Jamil quickly blurts out praise, "C-Continue, that's it."
You hum in delight, finally, for the first time in weeks, you were content. Suckling down onto his skin you hands reach into his hair, the softness soothing the rush that flows through you.
As you finished, you licked the dribbles of blood that rolled down his bare chest―you feel the shakiness of his breath. "Jamil, baby, are you okay?"
Jamil feels strangely relieved. You had the chance to suck him dry, but you didn't. You were sweet, kind, gentle. With a tender smile, he pulls you in for a kiss, tasting the blood on your lips. He murmurs softly, "I hope you're satisfied, sweet girl."
Silver ⋆˙⟡
♡ Silver is VERY concerned. For you and your well-being, I should clarify, not at all because he's scared of you. And why should he be? Silver was raised around all different kinds of Fae, so why on earth would he think you're scary? Anyways, Silver definitely tries to come up with solutions for your little food shortage problem―I don't think he realises straight away that he could simply offer himself up like that. You could just ask to drink his blood, but he's just being so sweet and charming!
♡ And, when he runs out of ideas (because trying to find a place that sells human blood is quite difficult), he, of course, turns to Lilia for help. Silver is his son, so it's quite easy for him to sense how much he cares for you. Lilia sees you almost every day, and he just thinks you are just the sweetest and cutest little vampire he has ever seen―your relationship is very much Lilia-approved (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶). Therefore, and I'm not saying he's encouraging it, but he does bring up the idea to Silver of letting you drink his blood. Okay, I know that sounds a bit crazy, but hear me out on this. Lilia is a very wise old man; he could easily tell if you had ill intentions on this, and, spoiler alert, you don't!
"Father, she's very ill. What can I possibly do to help her?" Silver practically begs.
Despite the situation, Lilia chuckles softly, "You're very fond of this girl, aren't you?"
Silver blinks in confusion, of course he was? He's courting you, is he not? "Yes, I love her."
♡ Lilia would firstly give Silver the talk (no, no, no, not that talk, silly), where he explains what to do if things go south and how to bandage the wound afterwards, yada-yada. Only when he thinks his dear boy is ready, will he let Silver run off and ask you―and boy does he run, Silver can't believe he hasn't thought of this sooner, there's no time to waste! It's a bit confronting, honestly, seeing him be so direct. It seems he's really adamant about you drinking his blood.
♡ Silver doesn't know tons about your species, so he really goes all out when preparing for your feast (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝). He has about five blankets on hand, with dozens of pillows and towels, and he even asks his roommate for a couple of hours of privacy just in case someone barges in. When it comes to the actual act of being bitten, he quite frankly isn't scared at all. It's just you, after all. Why would he be scared of a cute little vampire like you?
↳ Sure, you are a lot weaker at the moment, but surely you don't need help with everything!
"O-Oh! Silver it's okay, you don't need to―"
His strong arms help you sit on the cushioned bed, examining your well-being with careful precision. "Ah, apologies." Silver explains where his behaviour stemmed from, "Father told me your state would be weakened at the moment."
Aw, so sweet! A bashful smile crawls onto your face, a hand covering your mouth with a shy giggle, "That's very kind of you, Silver, thank you." You notice how he awkwardly shuffles for a moment before ultimately deciding to join you on his bed.
He leans against the headboard, a gentle smile coaxing you closer to him, "Perhaps... you would like to rest on my lap?" So you do, apologising softly as you rest your weight on him.
"Beloved, I've been meaning to ask you something." Silver's soothing voice draws you closer, curious. "Which part of my body do you bite?" That's a very good question indeed....
You bite your bottom lip, "Oh, uhm!" Your hands wander to your lap nervously. "I'm not quite sure... this is my first time." In fairy tales, vampires usually bite their prey's neck, right?
Silver rubs your arm fondly, desperate to comfort you. "Hey, that's alright." He pauses for a moment before an idea sparks in his head, "Father mentioned the neck being the more popular choice―if that helps."
Seeing your nodding head, Silver pulls down his shirt collar, his pale collarbone peaking out inticingly. "There, you go, beloved. Give it your best shot, okay?"
You kiss his neck softly, testing the motions hesitantly. You nip his skin, each bite growing stronger until his skin gets caught in your teeth and you bite. His blood, thick and sickeningly sweet, runs down your throat like a faucet. You hear his gasps, his groans, until the noise disappears as you suck on his neck more desperately. Your arms, which previously struggled to grasp a pencil, now tugged on his shirt, grasping and clawing at the material. But then you realise something, why did his sweet noises stop?
"Silver?!" You gasp as you tear yourself off his neck. Oh my gosh, you just killed your only boyfriend! "SILVER!" You shake his unconscious body with all your might, tears building up in your eyes.
He blinks, slow and confused. "P-Pardon? Are you alright, my love?"
