#ikemen vampire art

[oigimi]

[ikevamp-twitter]

[syneilesis]

Here in this reblog is the art for the fic. I've always wanted to draw Vlad flushed and wanting, but I don't know if I got it! The art is more like a manga page, because I wanted to draw a scene. They're approximate to a couple of scenes in the fic. I hope you enjoy the fic and the art! I'm woozy from how late it is here, and I think my blood pressure is rising, so I'll shut up now 😆

1.

Vlad finds your eyes, hazy but lucid enough to ask, “Have you drunk enough?”

2.

“Here.” You hand him a cone of ice cream that you bought from a street vendor across the pathway. The one you gave him has the color of flushed pink—strawberry—and yours is bright yellow—cheese. “Tell me what you think.”

There’s a bench a little far off to where you’re going. Vlad studies the ice cream carefully as he sits down, then he takes a lick. It’s light and sweet, a welcome chill on the tongue. The May heat melts it faster, and the ice cream drips down the cone, makes a small puddle in the fold of his index finger.

“This is delicious,” he says, and squints at your own cone. Cheese as an ice cream flavor is odd to him, but you seem to enjoy it. He swaps his hold of the ice cream and offers it to you with his right hand, his left raised to his lips, tongue darting out to lick away the melted cream. “Do you want to try mine?”

“Sure.” You lean towards his proffered hand and try the strawberry. In this close proximity, Vlad can smell your dulcified scent. A pleased hum escapes your throat. “This is good too!”

Tagging @akintosalt and @evil-quartett again, for the art this time :)

[fic+art] From Her Mouth of Strawberry

From Her Mouth of Strawberry

Ikemen Vampire | Vlad x Main Character/Reader | M | 2.7k words ao3 link

So this is what everlasting love feels like.

An epilogue of Vlad’s Romantic Ending route. With art.

A/N: OH MY GOD I MADE IT. SOMEWHAT. HAPPY NEW YEAR. I post this as Lady Gaga plays in my neighbor's house. I wanted to finish and post this before I get Jossed in a couple of hours. Vlad's sequel is coming! So early, wow! Forgive the quality of writing in this one; I wrote parts of it with a clear mind, I wrote most of it dizzy and sleepy and trying to concentrate while my neighbors sing merrily in their karaoke (70s-80s songs is 👌, I approve). Title and the quoted verses are from Charles Baudelaire's Les Métamorphoses du vampire. Very apt, very apt.

I also have art for it! Which I'll include in a reblog, so as not to disrupt the flow of reading.

Tagging and shoutout to @akintosalt and @evil-quartett, who have witnessed my descent to madness finishing this fic and whom I have greeted as 2023 sauntered here with pomp and swag. This is for you guys! 💖

On the first morning of eternity Vlad is next to your side on the bed, elbow folded against the mattress, his upper body and head lifted to watch you slowly part your eyelids. The sun shimmers through the tall windows of his room, casting a long thick line across the carpeted floor, like golden lava that would sink you if you dip your feet in. The diffuse glow of the natural light hits Vlad’s skin and hair, his eyes shining like revelation.

“Good morning,” he whispers.

Something in your heart blooms, warm and soft under his radiance. There’s a little ache in there, too, a light squeeze that’s almost exquisite in its significance.

His other hand leaves its place and migrates to your face, knuckles ghosting along the corner of your eye down to your cheek then to the corner of your lips, and you tilt slightly to place a kiss there. Vlad smiles, and he leans down to press his own lips to yours. He opens his mouth and you taste strawberries.

When you separate, you smile back at him and say, “Good morning, Vlad.”

Outside, birds twitter among the freshly blossomed garden flowers, and Paris wakes languidly into the arrival of spring.

The days following your transformation march on like a steady drumbeat, rhythm never ruined. It’s as if nothing momentous happened; the world feels the same, still is the same, but Vlad knows that everything has changed. It’s in the way he views the world now. Before, it treads on the path leading to destruction; but next to you, the world seems to radiate renewal. The lens with which he sees things shifted, allowing diffraction, the direction of his ambition spreading into a dream, encompassing every scope, every shape, every color.

Before, Vlad was a god carrying the fate of the world on his lonely shoulders. Now, he has descended from the heavens to walk among humans.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. A bit weird—I can feel the sharpness of my incisors against my tongue—but not bad weird.”

“Ah. If you encounter any problems, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Of course.” A pause. “Hey, Vlad?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad—I’m glad that we found each other this time.”

An exhale of a laugh. “I’m glad, too. Didn’t we promise each other? I’ll find you wherever you are, whatever it takes.”

Years—decades, centuries—flickered by like a rapid flipping of pages. Empires rise and fall, and Vlad observed the milestones of mankind with the benevolent glint of a ruler surveying his kingdom. He’d been to plenty of places, all in search of the girl who saved him. He’d looked for her under the rust-colored roofs of Firenze, amidst the resplendent natural beauty of Zhongguo, against the tropical heat of Las islas Felipinas, and dozens more—the beat of the heart seeking for an echo, the one with the warmth of embrace and the mellisonant voice that dripped with pure light.

He recalled: they never did finish that conversation, did they. The one where she was about to part something. Sometimes, as he lay down on his bed, before he drifted off to sleep, Vlad wondered what she’d say. It must’ve been important, because her face was pulled taut, almost crumpled into tears, like she couldn’t wait for the words to cascade out of her mouth. That was probably his only regret. When he returned to the mansion, drenched in snow and blood, she was already gone, a wraith whisked off by the biting wind.

Would he find out what she’s supposed to say? Would he ever in his lifetime?

The question of thirst emerges right after. You know, based on your experiences with the residents in the mansion, that vampires can curb their bloodlust by drinking Blanc. Perfectly safe, perfectly moral. Food is an indulgence they all partake in, as evidenced by Vlad’s childlike preference for strawberries.

Charles offers to supply you Blanc, but you decline, insisting that you can provide on your own. It’s one thing to live forever; it’s another to be self-sufficient about it. Even if your life has upended and evolved, the same principles apply when trying not to be burdensome about it.

But it’s strange and baffling, this constant thirst. The others appear to be unsaddled by this dryness in the throat—or at least unbothered by it. This intensifies whenever Vlad is around, the itch clawing inside until it climbs to the roof of your mouth, and it all feels like sand, coarse and insidious, with parched tongue.

Of course, one look from Vlad and he understands.

“Drink from me,” he says later that night, when you’re seated side by side and only the moonlight reveals the expressions you have for each other. He takes your hand and nuzzles the inside of your wrist, eyes closed as if savoring the sensation of warmth. In bliss, reverential; his warm puffs of breath against your pulse sending heat all over your body.

He slants another gaze at you, this time beckoning, and you’re entranced by the hooded slits of red—passion, passion, burning passion in his blood-red eyes.

A tongue darts out. Licks the skin where your pulse is leaping against the wet, hot pressure. Vlad shuts his eyes and moans, ragged and so full of want that a shaky sigh escapes from you.

“Drink from me,” he murmurs again, the words pressed into your palm, and you can feel his lips shape the words against your skin. It tickles you, and you try to jerk your hand away but his grip on you is tight, intent on never letting go. “Love is tied to bloodlust,” he continues. “You desire my blood because you love me. I desire your blood because I love you. So drink from me, and I will drink from you.”

He unbuttons his shirt and exposes a shoulder. A portion of his scar peeks around the fabric. Softly, tenderly, he guides your head to his neck, and your lips meet his skin, clean but with a trace of sweetness, petals. The hand on your wrist remains, rubbing your pulse with his thumb.

“Go on,” he says, voice thick and encouraging. Even in love and lust Vlad is always the one who gives first.

“But,” you answer, your words muffled and hot; Vlad tilts his head back to provide more access. “Won’t this hurt you?”

“At first, yes. But I promise it will feel good for me and for you. Go on, take what you need.”

The sensation of fangs piercing flesh feels weird, but when Vlad’s blood bursts through and you finally get a taste of it, it’s a whole new thing altogether. Vlad gasps, a full-body shudder tremoring through him, his free hand grabbing your hips and tugging closer. You follow until you’re both pressed together, with nary a space in between. He reclines on the bed until you’re on top of him, still sucking at his neck for blood, the only sound in the room apart from his harsh breathing.

When your tongue swipes at the wounds Vlad groans, bringing both his hands on your hips and grinding. You both gasp at the hot pleasure.

“When she had drained the marrow out of all my bones, / When I turned listlessly amid my languid moans, / To give a kiss of love—” Vlad recites, almost like a mantra, almost like a prayer, his voice catching and clicking in the throes of ecstasy.

Vlad finds your eyes, hazy but lucid enough to ask, “Have you drunk enough?” A thumb caresses your lips and it glides easily because of the blood. Vlad inspects his thumb between you, fascinated before he brings it to his own lips, tastes his own blood. The sight of it makes you swallow, and the ache within you just grows and grows until it erupts and the words spill out of your lips like molten desire.

“No, I don’t think it will ever be enough, but that’s all right. What I want now—what I want—” You close your eyes and exhale a shuttered breath. When you look at Vlad again—his splayed hair like silver halo, his half-mast eyes drunk in pleasure, his parted lips stained with his own blood—all you see is a godling who deserves to be loved and worshiped like this. “What I want is to give you everything, so it’s your turn to drink from me.”

And like a giant wave he surges to crash against your lips, devouring your entire being. You welcome it, welcome him, your own hands unbuttoning the rest of his shirt then sliding inside to feel his skin, the hard planes of his muscles, the scar over his heart.

In this night of whispered sighs and ghostly touches, your heartbeats are in sync, and Vlad’s eyes glisten with pure want. Nothing else matters except the desire of flesh, your blood beating in want of him, and time dilutes and the world vanishes until only you and he remain.

The funny thing about memory was: accuracy wasn’t the point.

The expectant stare of the painter tilted sideways as Vlad stuttered into a halt, dreadful realization that he could no longer remember the face of his beloved savior. Sure he remembered the shade of her hair, waterfall brown that curled playfully midway. He remembered her pristine shirt, the color of snow before spilt blood—the color of her skirt. He remembered the shade of her skin illuminated by candlelight. But when it came to the most important thing of all: featureless light, uncrisp and blotchy.

It was funny because the way he felt about her was a solid, crisp thing, as palpable as the objects he could touch. The ember-warm ink-bloom that suffused his blood when she held him was indelible in his heart and memories; he could still remember the staccato rhythm of her heartbeat against his ear. Seedling-hope and ironclad belief tied together in her name. He’d find her, one day, even after the world ended, because he believed.

He remembered the sound of her breath before she opened the wardrobe that hid him from the world.

He remembered the buried sorrow between her words, threatening to claw out.

He remembered her hands, soft and delicate and yearning, and he ached to love.

He remembered her sweet scent—

He remembered her—

He remembered—

It’s been weeks since you’ve been cooped up in Vlad’s castle, adjusting to your new, eternal body and its needs, and now it seems to be the right time to venture out again.

So you visit the mansion.

The astonished faces of the residents when they see you are a sight to behold, and they pile on you like you’re their long-lost youngest sibling suddenly returned home.

Le Comte has to threaten Arthur and Dazai a spanking to pry them away from you. Sebastian declares a dinner party is in order, and it feels like the old days again, before Vlad came into your life and held your heart with snow-coated fingers.

Sebastian refuses your help to wash the dishes when you offered, arguing that the dinner was held in your honor and it’s silly to have you clean up after. Which is why you find yourself in front of the door that started everything.

Eventually Napoleon joins you in reminiscence.

“Do you regret it?” he asks, eyes not leaving the door.

But you turn to him, smiling when he meets your gaze, and say, “There’s no regret when it’s the destiny we chose, you know?”

Napoleon returns your smile, relief gracing his features. He ruffles your hair, the consummate big brother looking out for his siblings. “I’m glad.” He pauses, then adds: “Are you happy?”

That question bears no hesitation. “Yes,” you answer. “I’m very happy.”

Eternity is desire and ache and sorrow and loneliness—

He sinks his fangs into her flesh.

—and now it, too, is happiness.

One day, out of the blue, Vlad declares, “Let’s see the world.”

After consoling Charles and procuring assurances from Faust that he refrain from any funny stuff that Vlad elaborates:

“All the travels I’ve done in the past were always about searching for you. Now that we have found each other, I want to travel again—with you this time.”

And what can you say other than yes?

Decades pass in a snap of fingers, and Vlad’s enjoyed every second of it.

The world has become more precious: empires rose and fell, peace sustains its lilting melody, Vlad’s dream burns steady as life. Seeing the world tastes rich this time, a surprising burst of flavorful experiences—the sweetness of your smile against the backdrop of canola flowers in Jeju Island, the spicy car chase along Berliner Ring after getting accidentally involved in a casino heist, the tangy sunset after hours of café hopping in Vienna, the honeyed secrets exchanged under the bougainvillea-covered balconies in Cartagena.

Next to you the world teems with hope and faith, and Vlad tastes, this time, a robust future.

“Here.” You hand him a cone of ice cream that you bought from a street vendor across the pathway. The one you gave him has the color of flushed pink—strawberry—and yours is bright yellow—cheese. “Tell me what you think.”

There’s a bench a little far off to where you’re going. Vlad studies the ice cream carefully as he sits down, then he takes a lick. It’s light and sweet, a welcome chill on the tongue. The May heat melts it faster, and the ice cream drips down the cone, makes a small puddle in the fold of his index finger.

“This is delicious,” he says, and squints at your own cone. Cheese as an ice cream flavor is odd to him, but you seem to enjoy it. He swaps his hold of the ice cream and offers it to you with his right hand, his left raised to his lips, tongue darting out to lick away the melted cream. “Do you want to try mine?”

“Sure.” You lean towards his proffered hand and try the strawberry. In this close proximity, Vlad can smell your dulcified scent. A pleased hum escapes your throat. “This is good too!”

A first experience for Vlad: eating ice cream together with you as people relish their summer vacation, skipping with buoyant, dancer-steps, their laughter tickling his ears. Teenage girls steal glances in his direction, furtive giggling tucked behind coy hands. Vlad, indulgent, smiles at them, they laugh openly. You look on with amused affection in your eyes, ice cream gone, consumed.

“The last time I went here,” Vlad says, struck with a memory, “ice cream wasn’t introduced yet.”

“Oh? That’s a long time, then.”

“Almost three centuries since I’ve visited. Some buildings I recognize, but plenty have changed.”

It’s been a long time, indeed, but for Vlad, the passage of time runs differently from that of human perception. A blink, a sleep, a long pensive silence. Memories blur, betwixt one point and another. Just like his memories of your face, a gradual erosion attributed to absence and distance; but now, in this moment, Vlad knows that he will no longer forget.

A kilometer from where they sit, the sea murmurs, tranquil, and the people near it attempt to dip their toes into the water before it gets agitated. A month from now, typhoons will come, and the sea will rise and strike and beat the land with its ferocious waves. Vlad finishes his ice cream, the sweetness of strawberry and sugar cone lingering on his tongue.

“There’s a place here that I wanted to go to, but couldn’t the last time I came,” he says.

A beautiful smile blossoms on your lips. “Then let’s go there this time.”

He returns the smile with his own. “Yes, let’s.”

Another first experience: the heels of his shoes clacking against the stone pavement as children run and play tag, circling you and Vlad once, their chatter trailing in the air. His hand finds yours and entwines its fingers with your own, warm and comforting and real. It will continue in the years, decades, centuries—this solid and crisp warmth, this ink-bloom in his veins, your clear, unveiled face.

His dream of peace, of the world eternal, warless and free of destruction, held safe in your hands, beating on. 

So this is what everlasting love feels like.

[xibesy]

Hey guys…. So I’m back at it again w Mozart 👁️ I’d imagine him trying to direct a orchestra lol

I really want to have mutual moots on here for Ikemen Vamp PLEASE I’m BEGGGING. Hit me up if you wanna be mutuals…. I have Instagram too.

Anyways…. I finished reading Charles route n not sure if he was my cup of tea 🤨

This is my last day before going back to work so 😢😢😢 but imma draw again when I get off again ^^ this has been helping me out of my art block.

I’m kinda getting better drawing his hair LOL

[lovecraftiancicada]

Living for Vincent's reactions to modern technology

[dododrawsstuff]

October Kofi membership reward for @valkyyriia she chose Leonardo and left it entirely in my hands, it was really fun to draw!! Thank you so much for your support!

It's me so I had to draw the fangs lol

Kofi | commission info

[cherryblubb]

TW: death , execution

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"Your people are smiling, Sire"

well here is my attempt to be creative with it

Audio from:

[niintendoqs]

Poor Sebastian has absolutely walked in on some questionable activities

[ndoandou]

da vinky

papi leo.......

first ikeseries art of 2024!!!

[lukkabloom]

based on @yanderepuck's hc that Arthur struggles translating his novels so he goes to good ol' Naps for French assistance

link to original post here

sorry for the bad handwriting

[lacie-otome]

super self indulgent yume art that i drew like. a month ago. mentally, this is where i am right now

[elidoesart]

Wip

This will look better when I render guys trust🙏🙏🙏

[elleplaysotome]

BREAKING NEWS!!!!

IKEMEN MC MAGICAL GIRLS!!!!!!!!!!

[xibesy]

Hey guys 😸😸😸 uh sooooooo back in 2019 I wanna say I was addicted to this game (shout out to Mozart he’s my bae😍) and recently I got back into it (I watch yt videos about it) on a side note Mozart’s hair is SO HARD I was going bananas !!!! 🍌

The two not showing his face I thought of when he had bloodlust and was like NO MC GET AWAY FROM ME RAHHHHH and ran out of the Inn…

[stellari-s]

arthur conan doyle stim board

❝ let’s play a game — whoever makes the other the happiest wins. i think i’ve got this one in the bag. ❞

[ x , x , x / x , x , x / x , x , x ]

▸ 【 master list 】

[dododrawsstuff]

It's the third time, I'm trying to post this, please Tumblr, I beg you.

Happy Easter everyone! I got a bit carried away and made three drawings for you, a full rendered, one with one base colors and one sketch. I hope you like them ajshajdjja

Had to draw Clavis, he's the one that first inspired me, and my brain wouldn't shut up until I've drawn it. I'm sure he would be a little shit wearing it too lol

Then I had to draw Ellis too, because he is my new husband and I love him, I'm obsessed. It may not be accurate with his character because I have not seen a lot of stuff, as I'm trying to avoid spoilers, so sorry if he's OOC.

And the a sketch of Vincent, since yesterday was his birthday. Btw, it felt down right illegal to draw him in a more skimpy outfit lol

And a bonus, of what Theo would do to me if he found out:

Let me know if there's any other character you'd like me to draw wearing a bunny suit. I had way too much fun drawing these lol

Can be Honkai Star Rail and Genshin too!

Also, please don't repost my drawings anywhere, please 🙏