#lestat imagines

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine rejecting Lestat's advances.

You leaned back against the chaise lounge in your parlor, your eyes looking over the blonde man that had charmed his way into your home, past your butler, past the maids who were now watching boldly, giggling in a way that you had never heard them giggle before. And it was all because of Lestat, coming to visit the owner of the home, with a simple offer of ‘A night to remember.’ “I heard it being told,” You started, your head slightly tilted to one side. His stunning eyes were on your neck, and you could tell by the expression on his face that he was having many thoughts about it, none of them innocent. “-that you can read minds, Lestat de Lioncourt.” “It’s one of my .. many talents,” He said with a smile, continuing to stroke the furniture in your home. He wanted to show you that he was good with his hands, it was another trick of his. To run those long, ringed fingers against the wooden doors, creating a contrast of the dark, intricate carvings and the paleness of his skin. “Then take a little peek inside of my mind, you have my permission, and there, you will find your answer,” You said, your voice drawling with the special accent that only those who grew up in New Orleans could master. ‘I see through your tricks, Lestat. Every little move is so calculated and unnatural, it makes you the least trustworthy person that I have ever had within my home. I would not trust you to walk a dog, let alone take me out on those streets tonight. Now, unless you plan on taking my door out for an erotic adventure, I suggest you leave before I ring for police who are stronger-minded than my staff.’ Though you were not sure if the rumors were true, if somehow this blonde man could read the minds of others, you were making your thoughts clear, concise, loud. Not only that but your expression told the world what you were thinking of, rejection, and Lestat’s cocky smile began to turn into that of a spoiled child who had never had the word ‘no’ spoken to them until now. “Is that really what you think of me?” He asked. “Indeed. Now please leave.” Insulted, the princely blonde adjusted his jacket and tore out of the house, scaring my maids with the ferocity at which he walked, which only brought a chuckle to your own lips.

Requested by: Anonymous

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Lestat wooing you would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

( I wrote this draft a while ago, and only now edited and finished it, so hopefully I'll still like it after my next viewing of IWTV lol. I tried to balance romance with Lestats naturally manipulative and toxic side. And I tried to make a neutral set of headcanons for something I think would really depend on the type of person.)

- When he can, and when he wants to be, Lestat is like a dream personified: one you feel so vividly and yearn for so ardently that you pray you’ll never breach the waking world again. He sweeps you off your feet; both figuratively and literally, until all that’s left of you is a foggy haze that can think only of fairytales and fantasy. 

- And yet, the dream is bound to end as nothing short of a nightmare. 

- Lestat views mortals as toys, things he can do with as he pleases, and dispose of as quickly and as often as it suits him. He hardly ever takes into consideration the feelings and the value of those around him, save for when he decides he wants them: and even then, he can’t help but play cruel little games. 

- Lestat’s love, in general, is a game. It’s a game of cat and mouse, one that only he ever manages to win. No matter how long it may take, no matter how hard you may try to avoid it, no matter how much it might hurt you, you’ll end up being his in one way or another, even if it kills you....

- At first, Lestat is very open about his infatuation with you, introducing himself to you in the dead of night as you walk the streets or sit in your garden. He apologizes for scaring you, ignoring how strange his sudden appearance may be; how it seems almost impossible for him to be where he is right in that moment.

- Though you're too distracted by his physical appearance to truly consider the logistics. Too distracted by his complexion and his hair that seems to be glowing in the moonlight, how striking his eyes are, how expensive his clothes are. He's completely foreign to you; both in physical attributes and status, and because of that, you're taken with him from the start.

- Being with him is thrilling, it's exhilarating, and it feels almost dangerous, so comparably taboo to everything you've ever been taught to yearn for. You would have never imagined that you'd be sneaking away in the middle of the night, tiptoeing past your parents room or climbing down the steep side of your home's architecture: all to meet with a man who only ever appears to you in dark corners and secluded spaces. You would have never imagined slipping back inside just as the sun rises and hiding your exhaustion in the morning at the breakfast table, knowing that if your father ever found out he'd lock you away.

- But just being with Lestat is enough to make you forget about any and all consequences that you may face. He's able to strip away your worries: waxing poetic about how he loves you and how he'll never allow anything to happen to you. About how he's capable of giving you a life that you couldn't even imagine.

- He's worse than the devil when telling you how he'll let you live deliciously: promising you no more pain or sorrow for the rest of time, how not even sickness or death could ever touch you again. But only if you'll trust in him, love him, accept him, him, him, him. His tone is never above a whisper yet it's deafening, rendering the world around you silent so that all you can hear is the beating of your heart and the softness of his voice.

- When he talks to you about the future, it's as though he can read your mind: as though he understands you on some deep and emotional level, perfectly summing up your deepest and darkest feelings that you do your best to hide. He promises to change the things you wish to change, to give you the things you have always yearned for, to rid you of the grievances and the heartaches that you have grown to worry about. Out of everyone in your life, it is a complete stranger who seems to know you best, and it makes you feel as though you are somehow one in the same, connected on some otherworldly level.

- He flirts with you in your more lighthearted moments together: making you laugh and flush and hide your face. He speaks so smoothly, so charmingly, so intelligently. All the boys you've ever met have either been perfectly plain or dreadfully boring, and Lestat is the total opposite: so full of life and passion and romance. It's like he holds your heart in his hands and tells it when to beat.

- He calls you such beautiful things: things reserved for your parents or the letters between history's greatest lovers. Some are comparably innocent to others, holding the affection of a guardian rather than a lover. Pet, lambkin, sugarplum, treasure, angel, beloved, darling, dove, lover, my love, my dearest, my heart, etc. Not to mention when he speaks in his native tongue.

- It's easy to forget who you actually are when every name he seems to call you is a term of endearment or your name spoken in a tone that you've never heard before. He makes it seem so foreign and different: makes you feel different.

- And when he feels his words are no longer enough, he moves on to gifts: covering you in gems and jewels and satins. You tuck them away in the bottom of your dresser, keeping them hidden away from your families prying eyes. The first time you visit his home, you're shown a room that's already made for you: it's closets and dressers full of luxuries that you've never known.

- When he zips and clasps you into them, his fingers linger on the pulse beneath his touch. He kisses your wrists and your neck as his hands slide across your body, listening to the heartbeat racing in your chest and the thoughts crossing your mind, knowing that his affection is filling you with burning heat.

- It's an age of innocence that you live in, and Lestat is a creature of sin: when he woos you, it's bound to include seduction and lust. He wants to sway you towards a life of debauchery, the type of life he has lived for quite some time, the type of life that he can give to you: one without punishment and restriction, one with only pleasure.

- He tries to lower your inhibitions: tries to trap you in a whirlwind of excitement, and romance, and affection, until all that's left is a dizzying love that makes you want to give yourself to him and only him. When he feels he can get away with it, he'll lean in close, staring straight into your eyes as his mouth draws nearer to your own. A grin pulls at his lips, feeling as though he is seconds away from stealing a kiss and sealing your fate.

- It's then that you pull away, wanting to; needing to, preserve your chastity, not wanting to allow yourself to get carried away and do irreversible damage; to be a fool for the sake of love. On one hand, he loves it. On the other, it infuriates him. He soothes himself with your touch, pausing only for a moment as your head turns away from his own before dropping his face into the crook of your neck or burying it in your hair, feeling your softness against him; a promise of what he is capable of winning as long as he can remain patient.

- You're so soft, so warm, so sweet: all attributes he tries to imitate himself; wanting you to trust him more than anything. He drapes himself across you, lays his head in your lap or rests his chin on your shoulders, wanting to seem gentler than he is. He is a monster, yes, but he's determined to convince you that he is not: as though he holds less control than he actual does, as though he is weaker than he is. Perhaps in a way, he is weaker: weak for you, for your touch, for your acceptance, for your love.

- And in convincing you that he is weak for you, he manages to win you over and turn you away from your family, planting seeds of doubt in your mind and ideas about running away with him. He introduces you to passion, to all of the things your family taught you to stay away from because they're sinful and will lead you down a dark path. He questions why something so beautiful and pleasureful would be so wrong for you to engage in. Why god would mean to keep you from enjoying them, from enjoying life and enjoying him, enjoying all the pleasure that he convinces you to let him give to you.

- At some point, he will find himself an entry point into your regular life: likely by attending a party that you and your family are at, and making himself known as an honored guest or sponsor; someone that the people around him are bound to respect and trust. He pretends not to know you when the two of you are introduced, though the way he looks at you when he kisses your hand will tell anyone who's watching that that is simply not the case.

- He plays nice in the presence of others, treating you more like a child than a potential wife: acting like a protective uncle when in the company of your family, friends, or suitors. He cultivates a close relationship in public with you under this pretense, lowering your families guards and making them believe that he truly has your best interests in mind. When other men come around, he is not seen as a competitor, but rather a guardian, someone that they must convince to like them if they wish to get close to you

- Yet for all of this acting, there always comes a time in the middle of the night when he finds you alone, acting as though a switch has been flipped and he cannot keep himself off or away from you. He grabs you from amongst the darkness, concealing your shrieks of surprise as he holds you close to him, growling about how he's missed you and cooing at you as grumble about how he's treated you all evening. He reminds you that you must keep your love a secret; whether it was initially his idea or your own, and against your better judgement, you begin to soften once more; forgiving him as he smiles at and hugs you close to him.

- He keeps you close to him at parties once he feels he has earned the right to; or even when he feels he hasn't, urging you to sit with him at his side and leaning into you so that he can murmur little comments in your ear, grinning as you giggle and try to hide it. You sit at his side as he plays the piano, watching his fingers fly across the keys as he quietly makes lighthearted conversation or teasing quips.

- In the presence of others, his affection turns gentle and innocent: tapping your chin, booping your nose, patting your cheek, escorting you around by your interlocked arms. In private his affection is more intimate: brushing your hair from your face, toying with your jewelry, lingering caresses, purposefully placed hands, long and gentle kisses. It's hard to grow used to the difference: how he can be one man one moment, and seem like a totally different one the next.

- But Lestat enjoys this difference, this game of his that he gets to play with you. It's a game he takes even further in an effort to make you jealous, to make you even more interested in him: to invoke some kind of strong reaction in you and bring the two of you closer in the long run. It's a rotten and dangerous game that he plays: brushing you off in favor of another, disregarding how happy you are to see him, taking pleasure in your confusion and disappointment.

- He expects to bite then lap at the wound like a dog, be the one to hurt you then strip you of the pain. He expects you to eagerly accept his undivided attention later on: for you to feel fortunate for the scraps, to wait for his beck and call. And how rewarding it is for you when you ensure that his plan backfires. Two can play at that game, you reason, and you watch as he conceals his own jealousy in response to your actions.

- When he stands you up during your nightly meetings, you don't show up the next day yourself. When you're at a mutual party, you dance and stay by the side of a boy your father boisterously insists you'll marry one day. When you need fresh air, you take the boy with you and sit in the garden side by side. And oh how Lestat could snap his neck like a twig: drain him right in front of you and sully your little saintlike dress. There's still a chance that he will....

- Your attention is like a drug to him and when he is left with none of it, he festers in sickness and in agony, rotting from the inside as he suffers from withdrawals. He must remind himself to be patient when he thinks about sweeping you away, about making you his and forcing you to stay with him until the end of time.

- He'll undoubtedly interrupt you, whether during your sit down with your potential suitor or after it happens: either scaring the boy off with the sheer tension and anger that radiates off of him, or stealing you away when his back is turned, grabbing you in the blink of an eye; reminiscent of times when you were both in much more jovial moods. His ability to suddenly appear will never cease to shock you, to startle you before you gain your bearings and sigh at the sight of him; whether in relief or annoyance.

- It's in these moments that he has to be very careful. He feels the need to turn you, to ensure that you're not going anywhere, but in doing that, he is playing a very dangerous game. Lestat believes that you could grow to love him over time, that you would get over the initial resentment of being turned once you realize the gift that he's bestowed upon you. But what if you don't? What if he loses you all the same? You'd be as good as dead then, wouldn't you? Immortal and yet refusing to be by his side. He wouldn't let you, but that's besides the point.

- If he does manage to quell those urges, manage to convince himself that now is not the time to change you, then he must decide on how to deal with you accordingly: decide if anger is the way to go, if sorrow is, if kindness should prevail above all else. Sometimes his temper gets the better of him and his sweetened words turn sour, making you wonder if the man standing before you is the same man you've grown to love.

- Oftentimes, you respond just as angrily, lashing out at him in the same venomous way, your pain and your exhaustion showing through. He can't help but love it, love the anger and the passion that you show him. He finds your fury exhilarating: proof of why he chose you in the first place, proof of how perfect you are for each other.

- It's then that he turns on the charm: smiling and laughing in amusement, somehow turning this rage of yours into a bonding moment. It's baffling to witness, and it gives you much to think about. It's in these moments that he might be forced to turn you, seeing the conflict on your face, hearing the words leave your lips, orders for him to leave you alone, how you never wish to see him again.

- He can't allow you to make that decision, to leave him and be rid of him forever. He'll ensure that you're unable to: that no matter where you go and no matter how far you run, he will continue to be the only one you can turn to, the only one who can understand and guide you. You'll learn to love him then, he'll make sure of it. Despite all the aggravation, a life without him will be even more unbearable, ...and you'll realize that soon enough.

- There's a very likely chance that he'll woo you after he bites you, that he'll turn you during your first meeting, or feed from you and later convince you to let him change you. For the sake of these headcanons, I've pretended as though there's a reason he's unable to steal you away in the middle of the night and run away with you. Just let it be known that under different circumstances, he might react very differently when trying to win you over.

- That being said: Lestat does try to give you the choice when deciding whether or not to change you; regardless of your history together. Although, it isn't much of a choice, is it? It's either change or die: a sort of "pick your poison" type of scenario.

- I can see him making his secret known in an attempt to win you over and intrigue you, to fascinate you with his mere existence and draw you towards him even more. Your interest in him facilitates his beliefs about you: about how you're made for his world and not your own. The fact that you're not terrified of him; that you still yearn to be near him even after learning what he is, proves to him that you're different from everyone else, that there's a reason he chose you out of every other person on Earth.

- Logistically, you know that things like him should not exist: that even if they do, they're dangerous and should be avoided at all costs. And yet, you find yourself incapable of of doing so. Knowing that he exists frightens you, and yet it fascinates you even more, making you want to continue seeing him: scared of losing this double life of yours that has allowed you to see things beyond your own comprehension and the set of beliefs that you've been taught since birth. If you turn from him, you risk going back to a normal and boring life, forced into realism after getting a taste of true fantasy.

- It's a hard decision to make; whether you'll choose to continue seeing him or not, yet you should rest assured that Lestat is seldom finished with a person even when they fully believe him to be. If he wants something, there is simply no preventing him from having it. And the thing he wants most is you....

[monlestat]

my brother!!!!! he tossed himself off a roof! my sister!!!!!!! she buried me alive! my daughter was my sister was my throw pillow when he wouldn’t look at me kindly!!!!!! lestat lestat lestat lestat lestat lestat LESTAT-

[platoapproved]

iwtv ships + book quotes

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

drives me glass-eating batshit how Claudia and Amadeo were both teenagers rescued (or "rescued") from violently traumatic situations and taken in by paternal gentlemen vampires who taught them about the world and kept them safe and spoiled them rotten and loved them so so so much in profoundly unhealthy and dehumanizing ways. Claudia and Arun both entering the vampiric world as blank slates (like Claudia remembers her pre-turning past but we only get the barest details, it's hardly ever mentioned) and a wash of divinity, angel imagery and merciful gods. then as Claudia and Amadeo grew they started to pick up on the things that were off in their world and display aggressive behavior (Claudia's killing spree and Amadeo's The Shining moment, etc.) only to be physically punished for it. and then they experience the brutalities of life outside their maker's protection (Claudia under the floorboards and Armand under Rome) except she's able to come back home hardened and confront the realities of what's been done to her while Armand never gets that chance, he's stuck with the Children of Darkness, he's stuck deifying Marius, he's stuck clinging to ritual and tradition and all the things Claudia defies like breathing.

and then they finally cross paths and they're inverted mirrors of each other, Claudia the grown woman desperate to escape her teenager's body and Armand the grown man who wants to be loved and precocious and fascinating like he was as a teenager. Claudia being able to effortlessly pull off the veneer of innocence that Armand has to work so hard to maintain and she's not even grateful for it. she's got the youth he wants, she's got Louis's love, she's more free than Armand has ever been, she fought back against her Maker and got away with it, it's not Fair, it isn't right. so Armand punishes her with it, subjects her to the same cycle of objectification and dehumanization and violence that Amadeo went through (because it could be Worse right, he could be Donating her right). and when that's not enough to make up for everything he's missing he fucking kills her in an elaborate show just like she killed Lestat with the elaborate show that was Mardi Gras, only his writings recording the process damn him just like her writings damn her, their need to leave some mark of themselves above all else consuming everything.

and after killing her Armand spends years dragging around with a Louis who hates him just like Louis dragged around with a Claudia who hated him. he's the good nurse for Louis the way Claudia was and he competes with Lestat's ghost the way she did and he watches a fragile life with flowers growing from dead things all come crashing down in ash and dust like she did, all because of what he did to her. and at the end of the day they're both fucked-up kids whose most commonly used last names stem from the fathers who fucked them up and they could have lived each other's lives and in some ways they almost did.

[elinordash]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE 2x03 ・ 2x04

Even now, I'm still the only one you trust.

[laniidae-passerine]

don’t get how you can watch iwtv and be a sincere diehard lestat hater. like the world’s biggest lestat hater is louis and that man can’t even commit to it for more than five minutes before literally hallucinating lestat wearing a wedding ring and talking pretty to him. this show is about louis and every road leads back to lestat for that man

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐑𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 || inspo: @nickgoesinsane the post !!!

⟩ » Part One « | Part Two ⟨

cw : MDNI - S1 Lestat, flirting, suggestive content, top male reader, goofy male reader, bagged the baddie by being autistic aesthetic, mentions of sexual interactions, slight Louis jealousy, one-shot.

Thinking of how Lestat would so leisurely find his way onto your leg, his body pressed against yours almost similar to how a feline would greet another. How he would lean his head over as you'd whisper to him what others only wish they could hear.

Ears perking up at the melodic laughter from the blonde beauty himself. His hand having to cover his lips as to stifle his own joy, afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Your mere words brought him joy, a rare feeling when it didn't come from either spiting others or showing off his many 'talents'.

You spoiled the man rotten from your presence alone.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Lestat had become absolutely enthralled with you.

Beforehand, he'd peered his way into your mind and saw you as nothing more than a simpleton who genuinely happened to stumble into a bar. Like a lost puppy, you seemed almost shy, scrambling for help in your mind as the bustling room seemed like a cry out of your comfort zone.

Oh how absolutely wrong he was.

By the time he'd occupied a seat next to you, the blonde man barely had enough time to introduce himself before you perked up and did so first. You were a bit of a motor-mouth, but a smooth one at that. Lestat seemed only partially annoyed as he practically got your life's story before saying a measly five words.

You were the perfect target for a good night, to sate both his needs of hunger. A gluttonous lust he'd have sprung on Louis if the man wasn't so tied up in his own family affairs at the moment. It couldn't have been laid out any better. You were alone, having moved from further down south to try and set up business, but you were lost and passing by.

You had no family or friends worried about you, you weren't of a high enough status to be searched for if gone for more than a day, and better yet, all your belongings were currently on you as you'd been trying to find a place to stay for the night.

Lestat did have to silence you for the moment as you rambled about your current situation. His nimble fingers seemed to caress your jaw, thumb place against your lips. "For such a handsome face, you speak more than you can breathe. Though I can't blame you, having to go through such a harrowing journey with no one willing to help you?"

You seemed to smirk behind his finger, a laugh leaving your slightly chapped lips. "Well, what can I say pretty boy? You simply took my breath away the moment you sat next to lil' ol' me."

Lestat was a bit surprised to say the least as you seemed openly okay with complimenting him in such a way. Many men, caucasian or colored, seemed to keep to themselves or explore behind closed doors. You? Your mind was open and unafraid, bold to say the least—though there wasn't a single degrading thought to behold at that moment, even as the conversation continued.

"Perhaps I could provide you a place for the night? I highly doubt you'd be willing to march to your destination after such a strenuous journey here, pauvre chiot..." Lestat removed his hand, one now tapping against the bar while the other lingered against your open thigh.

"That's mighty sweet of you! So, how could this poor country boy ever repay you for such a kind gesture mista..." You droned on, hoping he'd fill the space in order to finally introduce himself.

"Lestat, Lestat de Lioncourt," he practically purred out.

"Pretty name for an even prettier face. Ya' don't sound like you're from here yourself mister Lestat. Got a story of your own to tell?" You'd now seem almost infatuated with this man who'd barely begin to speak to you, much less offer a place to stay. In the back of your mind, you knew that it was a ploy to sleep with you, maybe even take some of your belongings, but the man seemed much too proper and seemed to hold himself to a higher standing than to be a petty thief.

"Oh, but would you rather I bother you with something more than a story, mon cher?"

"Maybe, but only if you explain what you just said. Sounded somthin' like you were callin' me a cherry. Not to disappoint you, but ain't the first time I've been called a fruit, I'll tell ya that." That seemed to get a genuine chuckle from Lestat, making the smile on your lips widen.

The blonde individual shook his head as his laughter died down. "It seems you are not familiar with the tongue I speak in. Just as it seems you are just as unfamiliar with the French quarter as well."

"I wouldn't mind becoming familiar, whether it be with your tongue or otherwise," you quipped. "I can do much more than yappin' yer ear off, but I do enjoy your voice much more than hearing my own. Wanna get out of this joint? Doesn't seem much like your style Lestat."

If it was an excuse to finally get you alone, he'd take it. As if you were already mesmerized by the devil in disguise, the two of you left the establishment and into the darkness of the night.

Even though you spoke to an extent that would annoy any congressman who'd have told debate against you, Lestat seemed to grow fond of the conversation, as well as the praises you seemed to give. You followed him willingly, though it wasn't much of a surprise to Lestat. There were people that simply swooned over him via their first meeting, but you were different.

Yes, you were charismatic, a bit awkward, and yes, a chatterbox, but your sudden infatuation with Lestat was odd to him. He couldn't see any current thoughts that were of the sexual variety, just genuine curiosity.

So he amused you with a short tale of his own travels, walking side by side in no direction in particular. He was simply biding time before eventually giving your life an end. Though he couldn't have imagined that an hour later, he would be settled in an empty field laying in the grass with you, laughing his heart.

"Chéri, how would he have even gotten his head stuck in such a place?"

"Beats me! Believe me, I called him shithead plenty of times, I just didn't think he'd take it in such a literal sense. Look, and that cow? I felt even worse for her." You ended as you recounted a story from your hometown. "You also keep calling me chair? Are you being funny? Look, you can sit on me, all you had to do was ask honestly—"

"Mon Dieu, you will be the end of me," Lestat wheezed out before sitting up. "I have not laughed like this in a very long time." Rubbing his jaw, he could barely feel an ebbing of aching in his cheeks from how hard he'd smiled before, his stomach tending from how tickled he'd become. "And no, I am not poking fun at you mon cher. Your humor isn't the least bit boring unlike some unruly men I've come into contact with. I assumed you simply had lines to try and...take off with me."

Your face flushed at the idea. "Well, you were also laying it on thick yourself Lestat. Didn't know if you wanted to help me or...somethin' else. I mean, I'm flattered, surprised too. What's a pretty thing like yourself doin without someone on your hip. I mean—you're proper as hell, a real gentleman if anything. A flirt too, charming, handsome, cute, radiant even. You're a diamond compared to the dull coin I am."

Lestat seemed even more surprised at the compliments he was getting, yet you seemed to neglect your own self worth. "Even coins are valuable, dull, dirty, or not. Why do you put yourself down so?"

There was a cloud of despair in your mind for a moment before a sad smile appeared upon your face. "Today could be my last for all I know. I haven't made a name for myself here, and if I were to disappear tonight well...what mark would I have made? You know me as this country bumpkin ya met at the bar? You'll forget about me tomorrow as if I never existed."

You weren't wrong, Lestat had planned to simply get rid of you then and there, but now you'd peaked his interest. "If...you were given the opportunity, to achieve what you'd like, would you take it?"

"No questions asked."

"Even if you had to make a deal with the devil himself?"

"I'd ask him to throw in beaut like yourself, I'd be all in."

Lestat felt a grin appear on his lips at your mere words. "You don't have much hesitation do you?"

"I've got nothing to lose. Go big or go home, right?"

"Indeed Mon cher."

Suddenly Lestat pounced, smashing his lips against yours in an almost bruising strength. You took it as a sign, knowing that tonight would mostly likely end in the two of you sleeping together. His tongue slipped into your mouth, now fighting for control as your own hands came to hold his waist. The kiss was heated, abit sloppy, and by the time Lestat pulled away, you were breathless and flushed down the neck. The moonlight gave way to his silhouette as he stayed hovered above your face.

"Are ya sure you want this Lestat? I've been told I'm a lot to handle."

"You've been so bold and quite forward all night, don't tell me you're getting shy now," a grin appeared on Lestats' face, his fangs peeking from behind his slightly swollen lips.

"Don't say I didn't warn you.."

♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

Lestat seemed to stare at the headboard of the bed, almost lost in thought as just as he felt breathless. He only snapped back to reality as he felt a warm breath and kiss against his bare shoulder.

"You still with me Lestat?" Your voice was much softer, tender as you nuzzled against the nape of the others neck, the sheets covering both of your lower halves as your body hovered above his.

Blinking, the blonde seemingly loosened his grip on both the pillow and the sheet beneath him. He'd slept with others who also seemed full of themselves, but now the tables had turned. He was practically filled to the brim with your sheer girth alone, pressing against his more sensitive places. His tongue ran over his lips, lapping up the leftover drops of blood that filled his throat mere moments ago.

"I told you we could have gone slow...you're not hurtn' are you?"

Lestat was taken aback by your demeanor. Not many people seemed to care for his well-being, especially during sexual escapades such as these. "Mon cher, do you often become this worried about those you sleep with?"

"Couldn't say. You're...the first," your face completely bloomed at the sudden confession.

Lestat however was completely dumbfounded. You did not act like a virgin in bed. He would have never assumed it was your first time, not with the way you completely ravished his body by the time the two of you made it through the front door. Your touch like silk, finding every weak spot and milking it for all its worth.

A groan left the blonde's lips as you'd shifted, though he knew you'd be slightly dazed and possibly inebriated as you were unaware that he'd fed from you tonight. "Dieux, you must be humoring me again, no?" Even peering into your mind once again, he had seen the truth, and knew that you spoke of no jokes.

You made a small noise, but shook your head as you buried your face within Lestats' neck, kissing his warm skin and even up to his jaw. "I hope I'm not disappointin' ya..."

"Merde..."

Lestat didn't expect you to be a literal bucking bronco, but he couldn't deny how you made him feel. Physically, it was as if you were bringing heaven up on his flesh, every touch, flick, lick, almost other worldly. Emotionally...he didn't understand. By daylight you'd be dead, he was sure of it, that he'd have his fun and dispose of you before morning.

Though at the moment it didn't seem as if you were out of energy. A bit sluggish yes, but a certain part of you was ready for more. "Lestat..'" Muttering against his skin, your hips rutted upwards, making a heavenly noise leave the man below you. "You can be on top this time if you want..."

♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

Three months ago, Lestat questioned his morality, though it wasn't the first time he did so. He always entertained Louis and even then, the humans around him weren't much worth the time or space when it came down to their needs or wants— whether it was self loathing, craving of sex, the need for food, or the wanting of home to go back to. They were all the same. It was the same with everyone he'd stumbled upon.

"Another round of drinks for the booth Chéri!"

Lestat found himself sitting on your leg, practically draped over you like a coat, his head tilted against yours. The spoils of laughter and joy you'd brought him within such little time was uncalled for, but granted, he never imagined someone like you would stumble into his life alongside Louis.

He saw no need to change you, though his eyes were set on someone else for such an event. You knew of his secret, and kept it to yourself. The nights where he'd come to see you, having dealt with racist snobs or uninteresting people, you were there to cleanse his boredom.

Though the two of you slept with each other quite often, you would never let him leave without pampering him after. And Lestat enjoyed every minute of it. Your sweet words, the true sincerity that you felt for him, that you loved him. Though it was hard to tell with Lestat if he felt that same way, or if he just adored you like any other human he might keep for entertainment.

Within the last few months the two of you had become business partners, having made a nightclub out of an old townhouse set to be demolished. Many strings had been pulled to get things up and running, but even then it happened to be a successful mission for both men. There was music, dancers, singers, all sorts of entertainers that came in to perform, and many people paid top dollar to come in.

Even Lestat had days where he'd perform on stage. To say he loved to peacock was an understatement.

This nightly job was as thrilling and fun as your nights in the town. Unfortunately, you were a horrible driver. Lestat had never been so unnerved about someone driving, and you? "A better lover than a driver I suppose?"

"I believe so ma chérie, I believe so..." It's safe to say that Lestat would be driving you around while you'd stay being his passenger princess.

Louis watched on from the other side of the half circle booth he sat in, his eyes narrowing at you as you practically wore Lestat, and the man let you. He couldn't understand what was so special about you. In his eyes, you were the same as him, maybe a little less.

Even as you'd been introduced to Louis, the two of you had never met eye to eye. Maybe it was because Lestat seemed to visit him just slightly less often than he did before you showed up. Maybe it was because he barely went out with Louis anymore because he was too busy riding you. With a glass in hand, Louis stared you down as you whispered something with Lestats' ear. He couldn't help but to wonder, seriously, what do you see in that guy?

Lestat stifled a laugh as he pressed the back of his own hand against his mouth. His piercing gaze seemed to shift over to Louis as his thoughts spoke much louder than others. The blonde couldn't help but to grin, pulling you in closer.

"He makes me laugh!"

"Hm?"

"Nothing ma très chère."

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please do not repost my content on other sites and platforms. thank you. © @that-one-malereader-enthusiast ||

more fics from interview with the vampire » IWTV Masterlist

more from @that-one-malereader-enthusiast » Masterlist

Like, Comment, Or Reblog. || A/N: Thank you for reading! Any comments or notes help motivate me to post more often like this! Unfortunately I tend to overthink lots of my writings, which lead to me not posting or becoming unmotivated. This was written out as an imagine but I got carried away! Hope you all enjoyed! Will maybe edit and clean it up later!

[jaypentaghast]

Maybe a family could be two horrible dads, their ghost daughter with her ghost wife, her ex step-dad who planned her murder and step-dad's 70 year old boytoy

Maybe. In some other universe.

[aquarines]

this is your reminder that lestat canonically calls louis pretty (and calls him his pretty baby) and louis likes it. btw.

[dykesynthezoid]

Being the wife/girlfriend of one of these men must be wild… Like yes honey I see the hickey your best friend gave you at work today. Yes it’s very impressive. Oh Jacob said the funniest joke earlier huh? That’s crazy. Yeah babe we can watch a bunch of tv while you come down from the intense psychosexual erotic suicide baiting scene you filmed today. Hey sweetie do you know why people keep commenting “old man yaoi” on your instagram posts? Oh babe I think Assad is texting you again. You know you can turn it off so people can’t see the actual message when the notification pops up right? No I know, but not everyone might understand why he’s texting you “let’s get you out of those clothes next season” like I do

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine watching Lestat teaching your daughter French.

“Ma mere,” Lestat said, holding your little girl in his arms, her cheeks a rosy pink, little lips delicately moving to try to form the syllables. What came out only slightly resembled the words that Lestat said. “- est tres belle.” In his voice, the french words sounded magnificent, so lyrical and sweet that it took you a second to translate it in your head, so attracted were you to the tone. He was calling you beautiful. He was teaching your daughter to call you beautiful. “Mon pere,” You said, attempting to teach your little one the language as well, though you did not know it very well. You were learning along with her. “- est amusant.” The noises that came out of your daughter’s mouths were still more on the gurgly, babbling side but she at least could say mere and pere, the two coming out in repetition. Her little hands, so perfect and tiny, were clapping as Lestat let out an amused chuckle, his eyes settling on you. “Tres belle,” He repeated, as your eyes looked upon him with so much love and adoration - which proved to him further that true love never dies, even if the lovers do.

Requested by: Anonymous

[jorbus-mcdoorbus]

one thing about me, i will consume any fan content about my favorite fictional celebrities. daniel molloy getting cancelled on twitter?? i’m eating it up like brunch. claudia as a travel vlogger?? DELICIOUS. fics about ldpdl picking up a fandom after being spotted at several tvl concerts??? a cool drink of water for my parched mind. armand being a fashion girlie on instagram?? NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM that’s me eating the concept bc it’s so tasty.

[vampyrsfang]

˚ ｡ ⋆ ↪ ANIMAL CANNIBAL !!

“ some kind of animal cannibal made impressions on me. ”  ⠀ ┈┈  ⠀  . lestat x reader

♱  ⠀ ┈┈  ⠀ WORD COUNT . 633

♱  ⠀ ┈┈  ⠀ WARNINGS . dry humping. fingering. this is LOVEMAKING bitch. lestat fondling your boobs and truly just being the dreamy man he is idk i love him !!

lestat gasps softly, breathing shaky as his body moves against yours. his hands grip tightly at your waist, almost bruisingly so, as if you’d disappear should he let go. his head is buried in the crook of your neck as he pulls himself in closer, swallowing thickly as he inhales your scent. “baby–” he chokes out, whining softly as he presses his hips further against your ass. his eyes flutter closed as his hands move to wrap around your waist and over your stomach, pulling you in closer. “ah, fuck... please, baby.”

his breathing is shallow as he grinds slowly against you, wanting to savour the moment, lips slightly parted as his voice escapes him in choked gasps and desperate whines. teeth graze along the skin of your neck, blunt as he pulls and tugs longingly.

“les...” you coo softly, moving your hand to rest over the top of his own. “let it out, love.”

his body trembles at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering closed as his hips pick up pace. “please cherie...” he pleads again, body moving almost desperately against yours. “wanna fuck you... want your pussy, please..” his lips are pressed against the skin of your neck as he tries to surround himself in your warmth, feeling the beat of your pulse so tantalisingly against them.

something about you just made him so raw. passionate and exposed as he felt the urge to give every inch of himself to you.

lestat moans loudly, a choked cry of pleasure erupting from his throat as he grinds into you harder—faster. he’s whining incorehently, eyes fluttering closed as his hands move up from your stomach to your breasts, squeezing them tightly as pleasure shoots through his every nerve.

his own noises are soon accompanied by yours, a breathless “les..” escaping your lips as your bodies move together on the bed.

the two of you are panting and gasping, moving in sync together as one of lestat’s hands slide down your chest and to the waistband of your underwear.

his lips part, words falling short as instead he whimpers, before taking a quick breath and trying again. “wanna finger you so bad,” he begs, soft pants following his words. “let me make you feel good baby, please– i promise to do a good job.”

a soft whimper is all the confirmation he needs from you before his hand slides all the way down, beneath the fabric, until his fingers meet your clit.

he circles it slowly, almost teasingly. with every jolt and shudder of your body comes another quiet whine from his lips. then finally his fingers dip into your aching hole, earning him a sharp moan in response.

“mm... just like that love,” you manage between cries of pleasure, your hips rocking against his hand. his own grinding had stopped, felix focusing solely on giving you your pleasure. “fuck– your fingers make me feel so full...”

he’s almost desperate in the way he does it, fingers thrusting quickly in and out of you as his thumb clumsily circles your clit. “is that– is is good for you baby?” he questions, his tone earnest. “all i wanna do is make you feel good...”

your lips part, eyes fluttering closed as your back arches into his touch. “les—” you choke out, feeling warmth spread throughout your body as orgasm hits.

you pause for a moment, to catch your breath, and his hand slides up your stomach once more, pausing as he gently rubs the skin exposed by where your—his—shirt rides up.

“je t'aime, cherie,” he breathes, planting a kiss to your shoulder. “maintenant et pour toujours.”

and lestat just holds you against him, relishing in the warmth of your body against his cold skin as he closes his eyes. “je t'aime. i love you.”

[platoapproved]

OH NO I'VE JUST REALIZED SOMETHING. It's so obvious how did I just catch it.

So Lestat and Armand meet up earlier in Memnoch the Devil, and Armand is wearing all denim and is super dusty. Lestat sees him and lovingly thinks about wanting to clean him up, do his hair, etc. Armand responds 'yeah, you're always wanting that, back in Paris you wanted to perfume me and comb my hair and put me in velvet and embroidery'. (see here for excerpts)

WHEN LESTAT GETS BACK NEAR THE END OF THE BOOK ARMAND IS WAITING FOR HIM! Wearing velvet and embroidered lace! He has left his hair down and uncut like it was back all those years ago in Paris, only it's cleanly washed. (see here for excerpts)

He.... he gave himself the Lestat-likes-it-when-I-look-like-this makeover while Lestat was out.

[inklore]

crucified

premise: when his fingers slip between your open thighs you know there’s no other god you’d give yourself over to. no other god who can feed you, starve you, with such a loving hand.

pairing: lestat de lioncourt x human!reader

word count: 852

contents: blood and blood drinking, cult au, scars, inflicted wounds and cuts mentioned, foreplay, ownership kink, religious undertones.

note: if there's a sign up sheet i'm at the top of it hehe.

haunted hoedown day seven.

The cuts no longer hurt. 

No longer give your flesh that rippling sting through your nervous system for longer than seconds before the euphoria hits. 

Before the reminder of why you’re cutting yourself open with a blade to begin with. Why your fingers and wrists stain with the smell of copper for days after because you’ve bled so much for him. 

Always for him. 

The scars on your flesh only grow the longer you stay here. Stay with him. Worship him the way a man like him thinks he should be worshiped. 

Except he’s not a man.

Inhuman. 

Monster. 

God. 

The titles mean less to you than the beauty of the magic that is him. 

Lestat. 

You have a backstory. Something sad and traumatic that explains how you got to be here. How you’re on your knees in front of him, blood spilling down your arm—a new scar for him to lick clean. To heal with his tongue as he drinks from the bounty you’ve presented for him. 

A symbol of your devotion.

A symbol of your love. 

But you can’t remember anything but Lestat. Can’t think of a thought that doesn’t have him wrapped up in it. That isn’t a chant screaming out his name or making your insides swell until you have no choice but to relieve the burning. 

Sometimes with your own hand.

Sometimes, when you’ve proven yourself, he'll help you. 

Rid you of an ache that he’s caused. Take pity and use your body for selfish needs that stick with someone even after they’re no longer human. 

“It’s what you were made for.” He’ll whisper in your ear as his hips roll slowly between your thighs. 

And you’ll eat it up. Cling to him like something small and fragile who doesn’t want to be weened off the poison that gives them their only comfort. 

It’s why you showed up here tonight. Why you’re in his room, at his alter, knees digging into the hard floor, blood dripping, hooded eyes looking up at his smiling face. 

His legs spread, back against the velvet covering of the chair he’s in. 

A throne for a god. 

A monster. 

There’s a plead on your dry lips, falling down to his feet, licking his ego. It makes his hips shift, makes something in his eyes turn from hunger to starvation—something worse than thirst, than want, than need.

He loves his pets, but he loves them even more when they're bleeding for him. 

When they need him.

Elation makes a weak smile pull up the corners of your mouth as you watch him move to his knees in front of you. Joining you on the floor, showing you that yes, he’s going to give you what you want, what you need, even if that means stooping down to your level of frailty, to show his mercy. To show the kindness of a good god. A god who loves his people just as long as they’re offering up their lives in his hands.

Their blood on a perfectly scarred wrist that he’s wrapping his lips around and sucking from. 

Gasps and whimpers, head pointed towards the sky, eyes fluttering, insides burning, as he feeds from you. As he takes your offering, your gift, what he’s owed, what you’ll always give him—what you’re made for. 

His lips parting from your flesh to run the tip of his tongue over the cut, wet mouth pressing against the rough skin of past cuts he’s had his mouth against—tongue inside, fingers scooping up your devotion and pressing to your lips so you can taste the sweetness for yourself. 

“Do you like it when I bleed for you?” Your vision no longer blurry as you murmur the words. As his mouth hangs open centimeters away from yours, blood drips from his bottom lip and onto your white nightgown. 

His hand coming to hold the side of your neck, nails skating across your sensitive skin, making your jaw twitch on a silent moan. “Yes, ma petite.” He whispers before pressing his mouth against yours.

Yes, little one.

Yes, darling.

Yes, meal.

“When you taste this sweet, how could I not?” His tongue licks into your mouth, coats your tastebuds in the coppery flavor of your own devotion. Of your own demise. “Swallow it. Swallow and see why I keep you around.” His palm presses against your throat, waiting, wanting, daring you to swallow against it. 

Waiting to feel your throat bob as you do what he says and take back what you’ve offered him. Replenishing your senses with the blood that already beats within your veins to keep you alive—that you’ve relinquished to the monster who only keeps you alive when you’re spilling yourself of that life.

But when his fingers slip between your open thighs—the skillful press and pull of them—you know there’s no other god you’d give yourself over to. No other god who can feed you, starve you, with such a loving hand as Lestat can. 

When you come on his fingers, you know that this is truly what you were made for. 

You were made for him.