#armandstat fic

[kuethemoon]

iwtv fanfic friday: lesbianism onto the guys

@oldbutchdaniel I'm joining the fun. it's yuri time

two-headed mother by tisiphones // e, 8.6k

"Poor darling," Armand says, and the condescension in his voice is so awful and so offensive and Lestat wants to curl up in it and never, ever leave. "It's okay to let yourself be taken care of for just one night. You can't help what you need." It's Lestat's last night in Paris. Armand makes it a memorable one.

actually world changing. mommy issues galore it's sooo fun and this fic is part of several that got me into armandstat

super graphic ultra modern girl by armanddelioncourt // e, 0.9k

“I want to watch how you insert your tampon.” “Wha—No, you weirdo,” she glanced around the mercifully-deserted aisle. “You can’t just ask me that in the store!”

yummmmmy period blood fic!!! i love period blood fics sooo much and they're so cute

More than Neither by apoptoses // e, 6.2k

Annoying, how hot it is to see Armand kneeling on the dirty bathroom floor like this. Without her heels to compensate for their height difference she looks small, delicate. Her face is on the level with Daniel’s hips and Daniel knows what’s about to happen. Armand has probably been planning for this since they stepped into the store, she realizes. There’s no way she’d catch Daniel bleeding for the first time and let that go. (Daniel gets her period. Armand helps. Written for the Queens of the Damned prompt butch/femme.)

another period blood fic pls bartender! if I tip you can add them being freaky in a public toilet? thank you very much I'll take the lot pls!! the way daniel and armand handle being women and lesbians is so well written. dyke stamp of approval. if you're starting to notice a trend don't tell me

she loves me, she loves me not by IguessIllchangeitlater // e, 2.3k

“Sure,” she panted and raised her head, tried to find Armand’s eyes, but kept focusing on her fanged smile instead. “I will wear that fucking skirt.” Push out, push in, push out, push in, Daniela was going to come just from that, she was going to die. “I can’t-ah, I can’t wear my underwear with that, I would look silly.” Push in, push out. “Yes,” Armand agreed. She rested her head on the mattress, next to Daniela’s knee and busied herself with mouthing the blood that was still there. The blood that she drew earlier. “So, what’s the plan, boss?” Daniela managed to raise herself on her elbows. Armand’s beguiled eyes looked like that of a cat in the light of the night. “For the underwear situation?” “You will wear none, of course.”

butch daniel wearing a skirt because armand said so was an idea that bounced around in my head for a whole week so you know how excited I was to read this. hell yeah they're so bad to each other

sweet things for the sea by ulatraviolet_glow // e, 2.6k

Danielle Molloy, a runaway posing as a young man on a trading ship dreams of a better life, but when her dreams find her falling overboard and into the arms of the woman of her dreams, how disturbed will Dani be when she realises that the woman is not human at all, but a creature of the sea?

siren armand do you know how much you mean to meeeeee I lay awake at night thinking of you sinfully. siren armand...

one of your girls by sleepdeprivedsurgeon // m, 4.7k

“I was thinking maybe I’d go with my girlfriend,” Daniel says. Armand sucks in a breath, a familiar blend of excitement and fever rearing its head inside him. This isn’t new— nothing is, after nearly five centuries— but it’s certainly been a while. Louis doesn’t care what he looks like, what he is, just as long as he stays below him. On his knees in the endless confessional. Marius would dress him up sometimes: Helen of Troy, Cassandra, Mary Magdalene. When the painting was finished he’d push his skirts up and take him there in the studio.

technically not yuri but beautiful feminization + crossdressing armand and I had to put it here. special treat!

[wormtitty]

Kinktober Day 12: Touch starved (Armand/Lestat)

on AO3 here.

He shouldn’t be so easily enthralled by this stranger, this fledgling that has infiltrated his coven, torn it apart at the seams. But he is handsome and charming and ignorant; and Armand wants to disassemble him piece by piece, cut him free of his old flesh, drape him in something new - something that belongs to him . 

Despite his vow, and his desire to never bring another into the darkness, he wishes Lestat was his. Wishes it was Armand’s blood in his veins, His to guide and cachetize, his to watch over every night. 

He has already shown such improvement, growing to appreciate the separations between their world and that of the mortals. He no longer walks the streets at all hours, has brought an end to his leading role on the stage, and is learning to live with the acrimony from his own fledgling.

What strength Lestat must have had as a mortal boy, to remain so undisturbed and seek connection with him in this desolate place. To be so confident in his desires. He appeared to live without fear, carving out a place for himself in the coven with ease. The others had endeared him to themselves within days. 

Armand, of course, was no exception. Lestat had been his shadow since that night beneath the cemetery, just after his dear Nicholas had been brought into the blood. He sought to learn everything from him, through his blood, if not his words. Armand thought himself not easily persuaded, but his attention and affection were slowly peeling away his layers of protection.

He was falling rapidly and damnably in love with this young thing. 

For hundreds of years he had lived in reverent fear of  the flame, seen its light but never strayed close enough to feel its heat. A great distance always separated him from the blaze when he was compelled to use that particular gift. So much so that he had forgotten the lick of warmth on his skin until Lestat swept him up in this affair, constantly bringing him to his lavish rooms where candles lined every surface, illuminating everything in a sensual glow. 

Lestat was drawn to a life of luxury, draping himself in bold colors and extravagant fabrics, and he wished to surround himself with those that presented themselves in the same way. This became something of a difficult matter when he was faced with an entire coven of vampires that believed themselves deserving of filth. 

It was weeks of dragging Armand to the baths before he saw much progress in that regard. It took him just as long to realize that the elder vampire was being stubborn on purpose. After that first time he’d stripped down and joined him in the water, Armand took great pleasure in drawing out Lestat’s frustrations. 

He’d simply sat motionless in the bath, refusing to wet his hair or scrub the grime from his skin. Lestat had paced around him, spinning a whinging tale of how the mortal world would more readily accept their theatre if he would just put in more of an effort to look presentable. 

Armand waited him out until Lestat dumped a pail of water over his head. He sputtered, caught off-guard and irritated, soothed only by the sensation of another body slipping down next to him, fingers firm but gentle on his scalp.

This was another thing he’d forgotten - the pleasures of the flesh. 

For years he had only felt the touch of another during the hunt, and only the most necessary of contact was accepted in the forms of claws ripping through flesh and clothes; fangs piercing into skin, brutal and efficient. 

The Children of Darkness were no exception to this rule. Most of them knew better than to seek physical affection with their leader, and those who did not were succinctly turned away.

Then came Lestat with his grand ideas, and beautiful face, and all of those boundaries seemed to slip away with the water in the Seine. All he had to do was approach him at a low point, and offer his company when all others had left him. His blood was sweet with promise on Armand’s tongue, and he knew then that he would do anything to keep Lestat at his side.

He would even forsake the familiarity of sleeping beneath the earth of that cemetery to spend his days alongside this voracious young thing that called him “teacher”. The first time Lestat had led him hand in hand into a rented room, he stood immobile in the center of it, overcome. Armand had not seen such opulence in over 200 years. 

Lestat had busied himself with lighting his dozens of candles, oblivious to the state of stunned astonishment Armand found himself in. 

As with all matters, the novelty of Lestat’s taste wore off in short order, becoming just another thing Armand had grown accustomed to; ribbons in his hair, fine fabrics on his body, and a soft bed to share with his lover. 

Lestat took great joy in showing Armand just what he’d been missing in all his years of celibacy. Of course he had not forgotten the many ways to take pleasure from the flesh, but it had been so long that every touch now felt new and fresh, devastating in their intensity.

He was frequently overwhelmed with the most innocent of caresses; Lestat slipping gentle fingers under his shirtsleeves would send shivers up the length of his arm and a deep flush to his face.  

“You are so terribly old-fashioned,” He loved to say. 

And this was true. A touch to his bare wrist could render Armand speechless in a matter of seconds. In the early days of their affair, he would freeze at the first kiss of the night, stolen easily as Lestat woke from slumber.  

This delighted Lestat endlessly, smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he rolled the entire length of his body over Armand’s, letting his weight settle over him completely. His clever mouth leaving great wet kisses over his face, a dumbstruck expression fixed to it for a few moments before he becomes an active participant; scrabbling at Lestat’s back for purchase and searching out those full lips with his own. 

Just a few kisses, each one more delicious than the previous, was enough to have Armand panting into his mouth. He was a mess, squirming beneath Lestat, shaking all over as if he had never been touched like this before. Arousal simmered deep in his belly, filling him with a pressing heat that felt as if it would overwhelm him completely. 

He had him begging in minutes, a slew of “Touch me, touch me, touch me,” spilling out of him in a chant like a prayer. 

“Your desires are so simple,” Lestat teased, acquiescing immediately and lining up the lengths of their bodies on the bed. 

Armand whined high in his throat, feeling the bloodhot press of Lestat’s shaft against his own. They writhed together like that for some time, trading gasping kisses between lips slick with pink-tinged saliva.

By the time Lestat had gotten his hand around them both, Armand was babbling incomprehensibly into his shoulder, fragments of sentences that sounded an awful lot like “love you,” and “mine, mine, mine,” and “love me, love me, please.”

He found his release in the first stroke, the pleasure shaky and feverish as it washed over him in waves. Lestat’s hand sticky and red between them, still working at his own member until he bit down on Armand’s shoulder, muffling a long groan into his flesh. 

It was always still in the aftermath, quiet as they gathered their composure. With Armand’s mind fully back in his body, he thread his fingers through Lestat’s hair, pulling his head back to look him in the eyes. 

“I do mean it. I love you, quite desperately.” 

Lestat buried his face back in his throat, pressing a kiss to the skin there. 

[notfeelingthyaster]

self publicizing my own fanfic because i fear loumandstat not popular, but i shall persevere

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58295890

[waterghoulcalamity]

“Don't be afraid of me,

I'm what you need.

I saw you on the screens,

I know we're meant to be.

You're starrin' in my dreams,

In magazines, you're lookin' right at me.

I'm here around the clock,

I'm waitin' on your block,

But please don't call the cops.

They'll make me stop,

And I just wanna talk.

Bet I could change your life.

You could be my wife,

Could get into a fight,

I'll say you're right,

And you'll kiss me goodnight.

I waited on the corner 'til I saw the sitter leave.

Was easy getting over and I landed on my feet.

I came in through the kitchen lookin' for something to eat,

I left a calling card so they would know that it was me.

[...]

I memorized your number, now I call you when I please.

I tried to end it all, but now I'm back up on my feet.

I saw you in the car with someone else and couldn't sleep.

If something happens to him, you can bet that it was me.”

[trinityofone]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy, Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac, Lestat de Lioncourt/Daniel Molloy, Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt, Daniel Molloy/Louis de Pointe du Lac, Armand/Louis de Pointe du Lac, Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt/Daniel Molloy/Louis de Pointe du Lac Characters: Daniel Molloy, Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Lestat de Lioncourt, Louis de Pointe du Lac Additional Tags: Future Fic, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Anal Sex, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Spanking, Choking, Rock Star Lestat de Lioncourt, the cuck chair makes an appearance but surprise! armand's not in it, everyone is an insufferable theater kid Summary:

“Actually,” says Armand, “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Of…?” says Louis, at the same time Daniel says, with much more force and much less discretion, “You haven’t fucked Lestat?”

Armand and Louis both make faces at him that he for sure deserves, but that’s not the point right now. “I mean,” he clarifies, at a volume that’s lower but perhaps not by much, “you haven’t topped Lestat?”

***

Or: Lestat bottoms for everyone, the fic.

[queenkushiya]

Le désir est un monstre

[riley-beautrelle]

I got so inspired by all the leaking pictures of Armand and Harlequin Lestat that the idea for the fic just appeared in my mind a couple of weeks ago... 

All my expectations were exceeded when the episode aired, and we could see Armand's version of their infamous, scorching hot, and lethal relationship. And despite the fact that at least half of Armand's memory is presumably false, it doesn't diminish their mutual fascination and desire for each other

Because there was desire and fire

Because in any other circumstances, they would rule the world together

It starts with

"The reports, carefully gathered throughout the months of observations, turned out to be as alarming as Armand suspected them to be. In a way, he felt relief. He had always had good presumptions about people, and the thought that he was absolutely right about that particular one actually calmed him..."

And yes, this gif does things to me

[darnalearnstowrite]

nello specchio scena di violenza

A/N: So, this little piece, inspired by this lovely fanart by @vamp4rebatscave (I dearly hope neither you nor the commissioner mind!) has been sitting in my drafts forever, and what is this blog even for if I never post anything I write, so... Enjoy?

(Title from D'Angelo by Diablo Swing Orchestra.)

--

"So? What do you think?"

"Hm." Armand crooked a critical eyebrow at the screen and then picked up the device from Lestat's hand as if to verify his assessment with closer scrutiny.

"I've seen better."

With that, he rolled onto his back and stretched languidly like a lazy housecat; back arching, fingers spreading. With a dull thunk, the phone fell onto the plush carpet.

"Insolent imp," Lestat hissed around a grin tugging at his mouth as he drank in the sight: auburn curls fanned out like a rusty halo on the maroon silk, the arched brows, the dark eyes sparking with challenge.

With one lithe motion, he got up on his hands and knees and crawled over Armand's body and made as if to reach for the fallen device – but then stopped, and let his hair fall forward to tickle Armand's face, earning a deeply unamused look which only made him grin wider.

"Brat," Armand countered, and then, lightning-fast, buried a hand in his hair and pulled him down to nuzzle his nose into the underside of his jaw, lips brushing against his hammering pulse.

He froze – only for a second, undecided – and then lifted his head to grin down again while one hand drifted over Armand's chest, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. Armand watched him, eyes dark and cheeks flushed; his beauty bewitchingly mortal, belying the hungry darkness beneath.

A spattering of freckles adorned his pale chest, right between two rosy, peaked nipples. He could not help himself – he leaned down to press a kiss to the cool, smooth skin. The hand in his hair shifted, into something of a caress. He took it as encouragement and kissed him again, nails dragging lightly over his exposed ribs.

Armand squirmed and hissed softly, both hands now tightening in his hair. He chuckled deeply, pressing his lips to his throat while flicking one hard nipple with his thumb.

"Figlio di puttana!"

And then he was on his back, Armand straddling his hips, nails digging into his chest through his shirt, cheeks rosy and eyes wild. His own hands drifted to Armand's narrow waist, thumbs caressing his hipbones.

"What a dirty mouth you have on you, chèri."

But Armand was... somewhere else, even he could tell. Under the spell of some evil memory, perhaps, lost somewhere within the centuries of dust and darkness, or beyond. He dared not look.

Chèri?

No, no. That wasn’t right. Not this time.

“Caro?” His thumbs resumed the soothing motion. “Torna da me, carissimo.”

Slowly, the focus returned to Armand’s blown pupils and his fingers loosened from his shirt. His claws had torn through the thin fabric. Ah, but he had others.

With careful movements, Lestat tugged him down and framed his face, his beautiful doll’s face, between his hands. Armand's hands, in turn, slipped under his shredded shirt as if seeking warmth, coming to rest over his racing heart.

“You’re afraid,” Armand whispered, brow furrowing, gaze losing focus again. Feeling. Listening.

“Yes.” It came out as a short, helpless laugh.

For me – or for yourself?

He leaned up on his elbows, into a tender kiss, words ghosting over Armand's soft mouth:

“Both, caro.”

--

[persepinas]

Something new that I have not done: promoting a lesmand fic. Damn. This is hot as fuck.

And the tags….

FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY

Lesmand fic rec! Rated explicit, 2107 words and 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[iwtvdramacd18]

Humble Through Hunger is done yall

[vampiressdelioncourt]

Hey vampires and vampiresses

(and all those who flourish outside the divide)

I'm pleased to announce my smutty Interview with the Vampire fanfiction debut! (I say this like there are people here)

I've got something even freakier planned for the next one so stay tuned! ;)

---

" “I wonder what Satan will say when you have to answer for your sins?” Lestat said disgustedly, “Or God. What will God say to you, Armand, when you must tell Him how you let yourself be thrown from your seat at the head of the table?” Although it made Armand’s blood boil, he knew Lestat was right. Armand had invited Lestat into his life for a reason, and now he stood the master of Armand and his coven. But he did want this—to become soft and pliant in Lestat’s hands, no matter how big a toll it would have on his ego. "

---

Please take a peek at the tags before reading :)

Read the rest on AO3!

[wormtitty]

Kinktober Day 8: hate sex (armand/lestat)

three cheers for antagonistic lesbian sex with your ex/metamour. cw for some light choking between vampires

on AO3 here.

“You may hide your mind from me, but I know what you’re thinking.” Armand looks up from where she’s been staring at the book in her hands. She raises an eyebrow at Lestat - who has, it would seem, paused her incessant pacing about the terrace to interrogate Armand. 

“I am thinking about how nice it would be to read in peace.”

“You’re not reading,” Lestat accuses. “You forget, I know what you look like when you read. It’s a hideous sight.” 

“That was unkind.” Despite the insult, Armand puts the book down, giving into her game. 

“It’s unkind to ignore your guest, Armand. You’re a terrible host.”

“Then why do you stay, Lestat? You didn’t have to come here. I certainly didn’t invite you.”

Lestat scoffs, face contorted in a sneer as she presses further. “Touchy,” she sing-songs. “You are clearly worked up about something tonight. Does it sting? To know that I have Louis exactly where you have always wanted her?”

“Please, Louis is with my Daniel as we speak.” Armand says, flat. She tells herself she won’t stoop to Lestat’s level; throwing petty jabs just to get a reaction. “I have only ever wanted for Louis’ happiness.”

Now Lestat rolls her eyes, bites out “Oh, I’m sure.” 

“You’re her maker, Lestat, feel her. Is she happy?”

Lestat sucks her lip in, biting her cheek in an attempt to hide what Armand knows to be true. Through their bond, she senses Louis’ contentment in the same way Armand can feel her own fledgling. 

She blinks out of it, fluttering those long eyelashes at Armand. “And Danielle?”

Armand shifts in her seat, corrects Lestat, “You know she hates when you call her that.” She’s stalling -  doesn’t want to share this with her. She’s heard enough from Louis, certainly, it isn’t necessary to expose every detail of her entanglement with Daniel. 

But god it’s hard to hide this; the pure joy and burning desire that echoes through the fledgling bond, so fresh and sensitive like a tripwire. Armand squeezes her thighs together, but it’s too late; Lestat’s caught on. Her eyes go wide, nostrils flaring - a shark sensing blood in the water. 

“Armand,” Lestat gasps, delighted. “Tell me.”

Armand just blinks at her, steels her face into something unreadable. It doesn’t deter Lestat, but she should have predicted this, should have known that closing her off would only make it feel like more of a challenge for her. 

She bites her lip as a jolt of excitement from Daniel shoots down her spine, and Lestat takes it as invitation enough to climb onto her lap, both hands cupping the sides of her face. 

Their eyes lock.

It happens in a flash; her hands, tangled in blonde hair. Lestat’s lips, slick and hot on her neck. She’s got a hand down the front of her pants, curious fingers finding exactly what she was searching for. 

“Armand, you’re soaking,” Lestat purrs. “All this for me?”

“No,” she growls, jerking away from Lestat’s fingers. “I’m - it’s the bond. It’s Daniel.”

“Of course it is, of course.” Lestat sucks her fingers into her mouth, holding eye contact as she licks them clean. She slides off of her lap and there’s a second where Armand allows herself to miss the weight of her on her thighs. It doesn’t last long, though, Lestat’s tugging at her shirt now, pulling it free of her pants so she can wriggle them down her hips, off her legs.

In an impressive display of enthusiasm, she pulls Armand to the ground. Lestat spares a moment to savor the shocked expression on her face before she crawls over her body, sucking bruising kisses wherever she can find bare skin. 

Armand gets her hands on Lestat then, claws catching on the fabric of her clothes, tearing as she strips them off her body. She spares a thought to be sorry about it, then changes her mind. What’s one torn skirt to a vicious vampire? 

She feels the pop! as her nails break Lestat’s skin, little rivulets of blood sliding down her hips. 

“You -” Lestat cries out, the beginnings of a tirade on the tip of her tongue silenced as she watches Armand bring her bloody fingers up to her lips. 

Armands eyes go wide. Her blood reveals what Lestat will never admit; that she wants this, wants her, now and always. 

Her fingers are knocked away with a careless hand, replaced with Lestat’s mouth. Hands on her thighs maneuver her into position; their legs slotting together in a dirty grind. Lestat drags her cunt up the smooth skin and fine hairs of Armand’s thigh, leaving a smear of wetness behind. 

Then - oh, there - she settles in line with Armand’s clit, rutting them together short and slow. There’s barely any friction as they slide together, the wet, sucking sound of it obscene in the quiet night.

Lestat snaps her hips just hard enough, nasty like she’s trying to prove something, and suddenly Armand’s desperate for it, chasing her every move like she can’t get enough. 

“I need - I need,” Armand pants, frantically grasping for Lestat’s hand. She catches it, brings it up to her throat. Lestat catches on immediately - curling her fingers around her slender neck, feeling her windpipe beneath her palm. 

It’s so much better like this, concentrated pleasure shocking through her in waves. This new angle has Lestat leaning over her, the mean snap of her hips sliding them together deliciously. 

Small, choked off moans slip free of her lips uncontrollably. Time fractures behind her eyelids; scenes play out in a kaleidoscope of Lestat, ripped sheets, blood dripping from Daniel’s lips, a private viewing booth, even a brief flash of Louis illuminated by candlelight. 

Her body hones in on the invisible thread that connects Armand to her fledgling - blissed out and giving herself over to pleasure, wherever she is. Little ripples of it reverberate through Armand’s own body, heightening every sensation. 

When Lestat bites down on her breast, she sees stars. The sweet, stinging pain of fangs ripping through her flesh sends her hurtling headfirst into a vicious orgasm, the rush of blood pounding in her ears. Distantly, she feels the lightning-bright burst of Daniel finding her own release. 

Lestat drinks from her messily, grinding her hips into Armand’s where she’s blood hot and wet.

“You’ve had yours, my little gremlin, unh,” she whispers, panting hotly in her ear. “Now I want mine.” There’s the faintest hint of fondness in her eyes, a small release of pressure around Armand’s throat, that gives her away; Lestat’s enjoying this more than she’s letting on. 

Armand shifts her leg just so, gives her the smallest amount of leverage to seek out friction in the slick slide of their bodies, lets her grind down until she’s crying out and quivering. Utterly spent, she slumps forward, body heavy where she covers Armand entirely.

Lestat breathes out a laugh, face pressed gently between her breasts. Despite their history, despite everything that they’ve said and done to each other, they somehow made it back to this; shaking apart in each other’s arms and satisfied for at least a few moments.

[the-blackstag]

Pretty Boy

TheStag

Summary:

“You found him?” Louis exclaimed the moment Daniel entered. “How?” Armand interrupted. “I have hired world experts to look for him. He has no internet presence.” Daniel laughed at the absurdity of the statement before spinning his laptop around to face them. A photograph of Lestat stared back at them. “Gentlemen, meet Les Lowe. The most famous gay porn star in the world.”

[kittyloft]

*throws this at you all* have fun, friends

previous: Armand -> Armina or Erminina (Rehka Sharma) & Daniel -> Dani(elle) Molloy (JD Samson)

Louis -> Louise de Pointe du Lac (Jada Pinkett Smith)

Lestat -> Lovelle [“little wolf” in French] de Lioncourt (Paris Paloma)

Old Maniel -> Danielle Molloy (Jodie Foster)

Real Rashid -> Rashida[??? i’m grasping at straws here] (Ambika Mod)

walk with me… lesbian 70s devil’s minion

[queenkushiya]

"The finest actor to ever walk our stage, Lestat De Lioncourt"

[armandaughter]

armandstat coming tmr morning. it isn't angst like last time it's happy i promise <3

-> update: check rbs for fic :)