#proper-gentleman-vampire

[the-crooked-library]

upon my rewatch of season 6 of BTVS I gotta be real here. say what you will abt Mayor Wilkins but he would NEVER have left his murder daughter to struggle alone with debts and a sister. he’d be like “sweetie you own real estate that people live in, why are you working a minimum wage job?.. come now I am going to teach you the most useful evil skill you’ll ever learn, it’s called Being a Landlord” and then pay all her bills and make her drink her milk bc calcium is important

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

young ladies shouldn’t waltz with vampires

a/n: happy halloween!!! here's the fic you guys voted on and shaped a few weeks ago

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

summary: “so, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

warnings: vampire!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x vampire!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, historical au (1840s), mind control/vampire compulsion, blood, biting, age gap, ball, dancing, polyamory, threesome, first kiss, kissing, loss of virginity, somno, cockwarming, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, pussyjob, overstimulation, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 3511

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“I have to admit, out of every rose here, you’re the most breathtaking.” 

Glancing up from the table before you, cluttered with crystal glasses brimming with refreshments, your eyes flickered to the man now standing beside you, his own piercing blue stare firmly directed at you and no one else in the buzzing ballroom. 

Your stunned lips parted slightly before the gentleman boldly spoke up again, “how come I’ve never seen you before?” 

Feeling your breath hitch, you managed to babble, “oh, it’s probably because this is my first time at a proper ball. I haven’t really previously been allowed to come stay at my family’s London estate and–, I’m sorry…” you swiftly stopped yourself, sensing the heat that had ridden in your cheeks, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this…”

“Well, lucky us that you got let out of your cage and the rest of us finally get to gaze upon your beauty,” he flashed you a dazzling smile before his eyes flickered to someone behind you, “if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I recognise, but would you perhaps grant me the pleasure of a dance a little later?” 

Averting your gaze, a smile tugged at your lips as you uttered, “you’d have to ask my brother.” 

“But I’m asking you,” he dipped down to catch your vision, “would you care to dance with me?” 

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but let out the truth.

“Y-yes.” 

As a smile swiftly tilted his lips, the gentleman then bowed slightly before you as he plucked up your gloved hand and pressed his lips to the back of it before disappearing into the merry crowd. 

Feeling slightly dizzy, you finally snatched up the drink you’d originally wandered to this corner of the chamber to fetch. 

Though as you granted yourself a small sip, fingers suddenly grasped your arm and yanked you deeper into a corner. 

“Sister!” you blinked up into your brother’s eyes as he’d evidently spotted you from across the ballroom and, judging by his tone, not approved of what he’d seen, “what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Ripping your arm free, you furrowed your brows, “what are you talking about? I was just getting some punch.”

“No,” he hissed at a hushed volume, “why were you talking to him?”

A confused scoff then bubbled out past your lips, “I’ve talked to plenty of men at this party, with and without you at my side, so why is he any different?”

“Because, sister,” he leaned down a bit further, “he’s not a man. He’s one of them,” his eyes scanned your own before he spelled it out, “a vampire.” 

Though you’d never previously encountered one yourself, you still weren’t so naive to not be aware of the known influential status such creatures of the night had in the society you lived in. Them being in attendance at a fine ball was nothing compared to the other privileges they had achieved over the centuries. 

“Really?” you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, though didn’t spot the bloodsucker again. 

“God,” your brother groaned quietly, “I know mother and papa have kept you rather sheltered compared to myself, but trust me, you have to stay away from them. They’re monsters, killing is in their nature,” with a hand on your cheek, he guided your gaze back to his, “promise me you won’t speak to one ever again.”

Blinking back at him, you then uttered sincerely, “I promise.”

“Good,” a visible weight then faded from his shoulders as he let go of you and straightened back up to his full height. 

As you stayed on the outskirts of the party, one of your fingers curved to trace the lines of the fine glass still clutched in your grasp. 

Soon your eyes flickered up from the liquid remaining in the goblet and landed on the other guests. Elegant crinoline gowns swooshed and swayed to the music emanating from the small string quartet in the corner, acting as a heartbeat for the lords and ladies of London as they danced the night away. 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a voice then found not only your brother’s ears, but yours as well. 

Twisting slightly, you watched as a wide grin swiftly stretched your brother’s lips, “Thomas!” he spread his arms out for the redheaded man nearly within his reach. 

As they pulled each other into a tight hug, your brother’s friend chimed in his ear, “how you doing, old chap?” before withdrawing from the embrace, though still kept one palm fast on your sibling’s shoulder. 

“Not bad, not bad–, oh, Tommy,” your brother then suddenly glanced back at you, “this is my little sister,” gesturing betwixt you both, “sister, this is Thomas, we went to boarding school together.”

Extending a hand, you smiled politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook your palm before casting his gaze back upon your chaperone, “would you mind if I stole your brother for a moment?”

“Uhm,” you glanced to your sibling before uttering, “no, of course not. Go, have fun, catch up.”

And before the pair slipped away, your brother leaned down to whisper in your ear, “be good till I get back,” to which you offered him a nod in return right before they both vanished from your sight and left you alone at the edge of the dance floor. 

Though as you slowly began to wander along the perimeter, your gaze once again affixed upon the sea of swaying pairs in the centre of the ballroom, your gentle stride then abruptly halted as a bulky figure shifted to pass you, though as the stranger attempted to, the two of you collided and the remainder of the drink in your hand splashed across his jacket.

You both froze as you slowly peeled your wide eyes up from the stain of your drink, that lightly dripped from his clothing, and instead flickered up to find the stare of the aristocrat you’d accidentally bumped into. 

“Oh god…” your heartbeat swiftly hammered in your ears, deafening out the elegant music that filled the chamber, “sir, I am so sorry, I-I wasn’t looking at where I was going and–”

“It’s alright,” he hastily put an end to your blubbering as he eyed the soaked patch, “it’ll dry,” he uttered, running a broad palm down over the wetness. Though as his gaze flickered back up to find yours, a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he then said, “well, spilling your drink on me, the least you can do is offer me your name so that I know who to warn about to the people who actually are precious about their attire.”

“Lady Y/n Y/l/n,” you averted your gaze as your knees bent in a gentle curtsy, “delighted to make your acquaintance, even under the circumstances–, again, I am so incredibly sorry…”

“You’re a lady but with such lack of grace? Well, now I understand why you aren’t on the floor dancing with someone,” he jested in a teasing tone. 

The heat that had already crept up in your cheeks fiercely worsened, “I am a great dancer, I’ll have you know!”

“Oh really?” a smile dazzled his features, “I think I’ll have to see that to believe it,” he spoke as the current song came to an end and he extended a hand out to you, “shall we?”

For a moment, you let your glance flicker about the chamber in search of your brother, though when you couldn’t spot him, you found your own palm thinking for itself and gliding into the man’s standing tall before you. 

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, the palm he slid across your waist, and used to guide you a smidge closer to his own frame, caused a shy gasp to slip past your lips long before your feet began to shift below your poofy plum coloured gown. 

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying after all,” you soon heard him note after you’d danced for a minute, your movements having been nothing short of perfection since the very first step. 

Blinking up at the blonde man holding onto you tight, you finally asked, “what is your name, sir?”

“Lord Steven Rogers,” the title rolled off his tongue as his own gaze kept yours captive, “at your service, my lady.”

“Are you from here? You don’t sound it,” you commented on his accent, “but are you?”

“That’s a good question,” a slight tilt found his head, “London is one of my favourite places and I have spent many of my years here, but it’s not where I’m from, no.”

“So, you’ve travelled a lot?” you asked as he spun you an arm’s length away from himself. 

“You could say that…” he smirked as he twirled you back into his hold, “are you?”

“Am I what?” you found yourself slightly dizzy, though not from the dancing. 

“From London?”

“Well, my family does have a place here, but I haven’t spent much of my time in the city. At least not yet, I’m hoping I can begin to now that I’m grown, though to be quite frank, I have no idea where to start.”

“I could be your guide,” his offer caught you off guard, “it might have been a few years since I last called this city my home, but I still know it like the back of my hand.”

Mouth shyly agape, you simply blinked back at him a second before uttering, “perhaps if my brother came along as a chaperone.”

“I thought you said you were grown,” the tone he used to deliver his teasing seeped directly into your bones and made you thankful of his firm grip on you as the pair of you continued to sway to the music, “a girl asks for permission and can’t be trusted on her own, but a woman however, takes exactly what she desires and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way…” his smouldering stare then briefly dipped before you heard him murmur, “so, what are you? A little girl or a woman?”

“I–…” you blinked back at him, struggling to navigate the exhilaratingly foreign situation you found yourself in. However, before you could stammer any further, the song came to a close and the surrounding couples parted ways. 

Though before you could take even one step back, his hand kept you close a moment longer as he dipped down for his breath to tickle the shell of your ear. 

“Meet me in the garden,” he whispered, causing even more goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “then you can give me your answer...” 

The cool night air kissed your cheeks as your glance flickered away from the candlelit terrace you’d abandoned only moments prior in order to stand beside the bushy mouth of the dark hedge maze further down the expanse of the estate’s garden. Faint music still found your ears as it echoed out the open windows of the grand manor where the ball still boomed. 

Then suddenly, as you were lost in your thoughts of disbelief at what you were doing, just before you could talk yourself into returning to the party, you felt your hand be grabbed before your eyes fluttered up to find the lord you’d been awaiting, his arrival haven been so sudden that it nearly caused you to jump straight out of your skin. 

Without a single word, Steve began to drag you into the maze, far away from any prying eyes and where the darkness could swallow you both whole.

“Where are you taking me–,” you attempted to ask, though as the man then abruptly stopped, what he did next stunned you to your very core. 

Pulling you close, closer than you’d ever been to any man before, he then pressed his lips to your own, sufficiently shutting you up before you could elaborate your question any further. 

The kiss was abrupt, fevered and entirely your first, leaving you dazed and reeling to catch up to the reality, to the dream you were finally expecting.

When Steve finally felt you relax into him, his feet began to shuffle and shift you back till your spine was pressed up against the denseness of the hedge behind you. 

But just as a shy whimper from you vibrated against his tongue and your fingers drifted up to whisper around his silky necktie, the snapping of a twig suddenly found your ears and caused you to jump away from your dance partner. 

Casting your glance over Steve’s broad shoulder, you spotted as the dark-haired gentleman, that your brother had so fiercely warmed you about, slithered out from the embrace of the shadows. 

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the man smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest as he continued to stare. 

Eyes wide, you then began to stammer, “Steve,” lightly patting your partner’s arm as he hadn’t yet shifted to protect you with an air of understanding, “h-he’s a–” 

“A vampire?” the aristocratic creature raised an eyebrow, “how about you take another look at the lord that just had his tongue down your throat.” 

Your panicked glare then fluttered back to Steve in front of you, however, before you could manage to push him away, his hands flew up to either side of your face and he dipped down to stare into your eyes with an intense you’d never witnessed before, somehow locking you up in his gaze as he then compelled you, “don’t scream,” and under the moonlight, you swore you saw his pupils briefly dilate as his wish slithered into your soul, “stay calm.” 

Continuing to cup your cheeks, Steve then kissed you once again. Even though his previous words had turned you completely docile in his hold, the sensation of his lips as they soon pecked away from your own, on a determined journey down over your jaw, caused you to melt away that much further.

The neckline of your deep purple gown was so wide that it exposed not only your shoulders, but also crept down scandalously low on your chest. 

Your eyes fluttered shut once more as his kisses tickled in their path down your neck, the sensation shooting straight down between your thighs. However, as soon as Steve’s lips were devouring the tender spot where the base of your throat blossomed into your shoulder, a sharp pain suddenly caused your eyes to snap back open as the vampire had sunk his teeth into you. 

You winced slightly as blood began to trickle free, your gaze locked with the other man’s as he took a step forward and closed the gap. Standing directly behind Steve, his hand then raised up to stroke your hair.

“So, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

Though you’d barely gotten to sleep an hour, you began to stir as the vampire sprawled out in front of your slumbering form kissed down your neck and swiftly sank his fangs into your shoulder. 

Wincing awake and still weak from the blood the two lords had already drained you off, your hiss soon faded into a mumble, “Buck…”

Tilting his chin back a bit, Bucky lapped up the crimson that trickled down from the bite before he whispered, “shh, you can just stay asleep…” and you noticed his hardness straining against you below the covers, “it’s okay, I don’t mind…”

You couldn’t fathom how the vampire still wasn’t satiated after everything that had happened that night, things a lady such as yourself had never dared to even imagine possible. Even now, you were still slotted in between the two naked men under the canopy of a bed in the grand estate they’d taken you to, your virgin blood still staining the sheets, or the little of it that they hadn’t lapped up for themselves to savour. 

Though the restless one before you had stirred you for another taste, Steve was still sleeping like a rock. He was laying directly behind you, his burly chest still pressed up against your spine as earlier, when he’d impulsively tried to stretch out your ass, made the decision to do something about that impossible tightness and have that little hole warm his intimidating girth while he slumbered. It made it difficult, to say the least, for rest to come to you as the sensation of his fat cock plugging you up was nearly too much for you to bear. 

“Oh, what is it?” Bucky chuckled lowly at the wince you let out as he began to nudge his dick against your puffy pussy, “are you sore?” he asked in a mocking tone, grinning wider as you nodded hazily in response, “but you like it, don’t you?” he torturously tapped the weight of his length against the creamy mess between your thighs, the sensation causing both your holes to throb and clench, making Steve’s cock still embedded deep within you seem that much more enormous, “you like it when it hurts, when the sting of pain mixes with pleasure…” he then caught your eye and compelled you, “tell me that you like it.”

“I like it,” you hear the desperate word flow out your lungs, “please don’t stop, please keep hurting me, keep biting me, drink every drop of my blood, use me however you wish, it all feels so good–, ah!” the pleas he’d made you utter were then cut off by a rippling moan as his bulbous tip suddenly caught your entrance and greedily slid back into your warmth. 

The fierce rhythm Bucky swiftly found rocked you so roughly that the movements didn’t just split your poor pussy open as he bucked up into you, but it also caused your frame to shift back against Steve and sink you down that much further on his cock, letting his heavy sack nuzzle tightly against your slick skin. 

As your whimpers filled the room and mingled with Bucky’s own grunts of pleasure, you felt the girth in your ass twitch and rapidly grow painfully hard before the arm the slumbering bloodsucker had slumped around your waist tightened as he stirred with a low rumble directly in your ear. 

“Mmm… having a little midnight snack, are we?” Steve groggily hummed from behind you as he nuzzled his nose into your tousled hair, “you know she’ll pass out soon if we keep drinking like this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bucky then slid his palm down the length of your arm, plucking up your hand till his lips ghosted against it. However, just as you let yourself hope that he’d just plant a peck upon your palm, his teeth instead pierced the flesh, right below your thumb. Although, the vampire did show some restraint as he only offered you a little nip before ripping your hand away from his mouth and holding it out for his partner to grasp, “here, you look parched,” blood already began to pool like a little puddle in your palm from how it slowly oozes out of the wound. 

Accepting the delicacy, Steve first dragged his silky tongue over the bite, before he let his fangs sink into you with a deep groan, the taste of you only making him harder. As he began to drink from your palm, his hips greedily began to rock, making you tremble between the two lords of the night from the dizzying manner they both now fucked you. 

As your moans filled the night air, Bucky’s fingers found your face in a caress before he leaned in to snuff out your sounds and let you taste the tangy iron of yourself on his tongue. Soon, his kisses began to dance down over the column of your neck, till his face was buried in your heaving tits, leaving a blossoming trail of hickeys to mark his path as he moved down to capture your nipple between his lips.  

“I know we usually only keep our dinner till the morning comes,” Bucky muttered as he nipped at your boobs, only pausing to briefly glance over your shoulder at the man behind you, “but there’s something different about this one, don’t you agree, Steve?” 

“She’s fucking delicious…” you heard him purr in your ear, “maybe you could be more than just a quick bite to eat…” both of their cocks continued to rock in harmony, filling your holes up to more than the brim, “maybe you can be our girl…” 

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tilted your head to catch both of their eyes, “for how long?” 

Keeping his neck tilted, Bucky blinked up at you and uttered, “…forever,” before he buried his teeth into the soft peak of your tit.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader

sorry for being inactive yall teehee just thought about this cute little idea and had to write it... also no sex just a little spicy lmk if yall want to see more of this guy 🤭

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

you did not expect it to rain during your forest hike today. anticipation to dive into the lush green unknown was quickly turned into a wet mess as your scrambled to find shelter, unsure of where you were even going as the gps signal got weaker deeper into the forest you ventured. much to your surprise, you soon came upon a quaint winding road. following it lead to an ancient-looking manor straight out of the victorian era. despite your brain recounting that this was how every horror movie started, you were desperate to be out of the cold, and soon rushed to the grand door to seek warmth. luckily, someone answered the door. a tall, lanky, ghost of a man, who quickly invited you in and fretted over the prospect of you catching a cold. he was a little odd, speaking in such a proper, olden manner, but he was lovely.

despite your initial protests of overstaying your welcome, he managed to convince you to stay for a week. he invited you to join him for dinner everyday, and it was through these meals that you found out quite a lot about him. one, his name was kliff (you swore his face turned red when you said he had a handsome name), and that he was a vampire who was at least a hundred years old (he stopped counting after the 120th year). the way he revealed it was kind of adorable, he was so reluctant at first.

"sooooo, kliff. you're a vampire, right?"

"goodness, whatever gave you that idea? i most certainly am not." his face said otherwise as his eyes darted everywhere around the room but your gaze, and the tip of his ears turned red.

"and you're gay, right?"

"now THAT is an accusation!" he replied indignantly, now fully flustered. "i, a dignified gentleman, would never engage in such sinful acts."

"but i saw you peeking at me showering yesterday. pervert." you were having the time of your life teasing this poor fossil.

he stood up from the dinner table and paced around the room. "i did no such thing." he mumbled, face somehow steaming even more than you thought was humanly possible. wait, but he wasn't a human. nevermind.

you spent most of your week exploring his manor, poking around the various dusty bookshelves and artifacts of an era long bygone. if there was one thing you picked up from your exploration, it was that kliff was awfully lonely. and had been for a long time. he didn't seem to have had any romantic partners, probably due to his sexuality, nor any pets to keep him company. you could infer this from his clingy nature, he was constantly in the shadows observing you, blending in seamlessly using his powers. he thought he was being slick, but really, he was a rather clumsy vampire. whenever you caught him, he would always act oblivious, and give you a sheepish grin, before scurrying away. it was quite cute, really. another thing was the fact that he never asked to drink from you. "it is quite alright. i sustain myself well enough through other means." was all he said when you asked him about it. mysterious. almost like he didn't dare to taint your skin with his fangs. you decided not to tell him about the fact that you were aware he watched you when you were asleep in the guest room, sometimes even daring to climb into bed silently with you and bask in your presence. he was a lonely soul, you figured. you could let him be delusional for a bit. you would leave after this week, anyway.

but that week passed quick, and with each day, kliff seemed to grow even more on edge, getting nervous whenever he was around you but never daring to speak what was on his mind. brooding around the house, watching you silently as you attempted to grow something in his dying garden... oh it was bad for him. but this came all to a head on your last day, when you bid your goodbyes and were one foot out the door, and he suddenly gathered the courage to say something.

kliff threw himself at you in one final, desperate plea. "please... please don't go...." his tone was so pitiful, you stopped in your tracks and looked at the way he's grabbing your wrist so tightly. "i... i.... if i may, i have one final request."

"you want to drink from me? honestly, i'm surprised you didn't ask earlier."

"no, no... it's not that. it's the opposite, really. may i... may i humbly request that you..." he stops mid sentence and breaks eye contact to look at the ground, voice so soft you could barely hear him. "bite me instead..."

"i beg your pardon?"

"i would like for you to leave a mark on me. as a reminder of your presence." his tone is slightly more confident now as he meets your eyes, centuries-old desire rekindled and burning within them. he falters a bit as he notices your lack of response. "....please?" he mumbles pathetically.

oh, poor baby. he's wanted a man to love him all his life. luckily for him, you found his desperation cute. you drop your bag and take his hand in yours.

"want me to take the lead?" you squeeze his hand, and he nods shyly.

"i would like nothing more."

you gently, but firmly pin him to the nearest wall, the ancient manor creaking under the pressure. it's kind of poetic, kliff thinks, as he wilts under your touch, it sounds like my house is congratulating me. you start off by peppering fleeting kisses all across his neck, admiring the small noises of pleasure he made everytime your lips came into contact with his skin. the fleeting touches turned into harsher bites, as you nibbled at his delicate skin, so fragile and untouched. it was just like he fantasized, and he was in heaven. he gripped onto the wall for support as he gasped at the new sensation, writhing around as you marked him, but your strong hands on his waist kept him steadily in place, a feeling he quickly learnt to enjoy. all those years he spent in solitude seemed to culminate to this moment, he'd never felt more intimate with anyone in his life. you stepped back to look at your handiwork and he immediately collapsed into your arms, a dark purple hickey prominently showing on his neck. he stared up at you lovingly, unable to really form thoughts. "please don't go...." was all he could mutter as you slowly swayed him back and forth, soothing his cold, beating heart.

"guess i'll see you next week, hm?" he's never been happier to hear those words in his long life.

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

[vibingandsimping]

Random sfw + nsfw thoughts/headcanons for randomly assorted characters from BG3! Excuse any grammatical errors or poor phrasing… it is nearly midnight and I got off work.

Send requests or thoughts in my ask box. It will always be open!

Forewarnings/tags: Trying to keep this gender neutral… mentions of sweat/scent, blood-drinking, possession/control, some tooth-rotting fluff, fingering (receiving + giving), oral (receiving), hate-fucking, some ass-play mentions?, nipple-play, dirty talk, degrading, praise, validation.

Characters involved… Astarion, Wyll + Gortash

Astarion,

If you have warm-blood… such as a living creature. He adores that- his fingers trail along the expanse of your skin and if you could see his eyes you’d swear his name made sense. It has been so long since he had his own warm skin. Since Cazador stripped him of his innocence and life. He lives vicariously through your body. He may be dead but you breathe life into him and he swears his cold-heart no longer beat still.

He admires your features. The more unconventional ones. Like the wrinkles in your skin, the uglier scars that line your flesh. Moles, freckles, stretch marks… they all remind him of how uniquely alive and different you are. He’d kiss each one if you’d let him as his tongue singed praises.

He’d craft you a perfume or cologne to your scent. His senses are heightened as a vampire. He’s pressed his nose against the crook of your flesh more times than he could count. He’s smelt your skin and sweat… all of your essence. He has tasted and inhaled the scent of your blood. With that information, he presents you a mixture of herbs and other properties. Once applied to your skin, it illuminates your personality. Truly, as he said, he missed his calling.

As we all know… this man loves to bite. It is a form of dominance as well intimacy. Your vulnerability and his stake of claim as well as acceptance. You do not truly understand the importance behind the act. He never fed on humanoids until you. You were the sweetest he’d ever tasted… and will ever truly taste. The fact you’d give yourself so willingly gives him a feeling of superiority. As well as a lighter, chest tightening feeling of belonging. As much as you belonged to him, he was also yours.

He truly loves to delve into your pleasure. As much as he is fond of using his tongue… to break you apart with simply his mouth. Watch you crumble and cry from betwixt your thighs, there is also an unremarkable excitement in his fingers. Filling you and stretching you with them. Working to angle and prod the most sensitive parts whilst his tongue slides against yours or along your neck. Licking at the wounds from his feedings. To hear you cry so deliciously from just the thickness and persistence of his fingers strokes his ego. He knows he will fuck you dumb unto his cock.

A shorter smut headcanon but I do believe he’d love cumming on your skin. Your face, chest (particularly loves giving you a pearl necklace, he thinks you look dashing), stomach, thighs… any skin that is available, honestly. There is a strange sense of pride for him in it. To see you covered in him. He also loves to cum inside. Either works, honestly, as long as it is you.

Wyll (this guy has no fics about him. Step up y’alls game)

A true gentleman. He grew up as a son of royalty… what do you expect? If you guys ever had a proper date, he’d dress no less to impress the finest. Honestly, it makes you feel so utterly underdressed. He adorns a wonderful cologne. It is reminiscent of leather, warm spices and a sweeter scent like honey. His vest has gold detailing along a beautiful maroon. Still, in his eyes you are the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. No matter how fancy you dressed. He cannot keep his eyes off you, truly.

We all know he loves to dance. It is something he praises in his dialogue. Still, he wishes no more than to dance with you. If you can or cannot dance, it doesn’t matter. He will teach you the rhythm and steps if you have two left feet. Each time you trip or fall, he simply quirks a smile and offers a hand. He does not judge, only finds some amusement in how adorable he finds you. If you know how to dance? How delightful. He will play some faint music to follow along too. His hand rested along the small of your back and his fingers intertwined with yours. Dipping you and guiding you as the music fades away and you’re left with the trance of his loving gaze.

As much as he is a gentleman, I think he’d love harmless pranks. Gentle teasing of your character to see your frustrations and shock. He’d ‘misplace’ an item of yours to see you scour in confusion. Then, when you look at him, he is holding it out with a devious little smirk. He lets out a chuckle when you stomp over and nearly cuss him out. He loves every side of you and you know that it’s lighthearted fun… and god damn is it hard to hold a grudge when he has a smile like that. Curse him, truly.

He is a simple man, honestly. He takes pleasure in what you take pleasure in. Will indulge your desires and kinks as long as they aren’t particularly destructive. Though, he does have a little… interest. He proposes it one day with some nerve, or, you happen to stumble on it yourself. Nonetheless, he enjoys his ass being prodded during oral. You noticed when a fondling hand upon his balls drifted and brushed against his hole. He stiffened and let out a strained noise. You brushed it again before discovering it was one of pleasure. With that information, do as you will. Just know that it makes him release much easier than he intends. He finds it a dirty (although frustratingly pleasurable) trick when you go down on him.

He enjoys toying with your nipples while either betwixt your thighs or wrapped around you. There is a certain look you hold when his thumbs squeeze and roll them. You arch your back a little more and your thighs quiver as the pleasure shoots between them and enhance what he was giving you. It was truly a sight and he didn’t even have to say anything for you to unravel just the way he’d like. Don’t think it’s just hands, either. He’ll glide his tongue along them, sucking and nibbling til he is assured you’re enjoying it.

Gortash (I’m a dirty Gortash lover… sue me. Durge will get some content later, I swear)

Starting off with the normal Tav… If you manage to ‘fix’ him in a sense, he admires your persistence and patience with him. He had a troubled past that he overlooked and developed some… issues from. Yet, it was your kindness and guidance that led him to stopping the Absolute and creating a better city. He is not perfect, by far. Enver is still a controlling man. He needs some sort of power and dominance to soothe his mind. Though, he does not use fear to control his citizens anymore. He’s truly impressed by the way you swayed him. You can see it in the way he gazes at you sometimes. There is certain softness as his hand grasps yours and he looks to you for reassurance in a moment of vulnerability. He needs you to keep him in reigns.

He loves holding you from behind and to bury his face into your neck. The crook between your head and shoulder holds such warmth and a smell that is yours. It reminds him of the path he has chosen… and the person he gets to cherish for it. He places his hands onto your stomach and allows his sharp, metal nails to tease the skin. To remind you of the still powerful man whose giving up such command and control to you. Someone who grounds him. He might even hum into your skin in content if you do not push him away. Honestly, you will eventually. He could cling onto you like a koala of you did not stop him. He murmurs into your skin about how you two rule this kingdom… and one day you’ll be officially betrothed to him. The thought of him proposing and taking your hand in marriage makes your heart flutter.

Although he is so soft with you, he fucks you like he hates you. His cock battering your walls and filling you up so painfully full. He is thick- and makes your mind melt as he stretches you unlike you’ve known. He may not be particularly the longest but he does not lack length. Sadly, foreplay isn’t the best thing he’s at. You can blame it for his inflated ego and quick beds over the years. If you ruined his initial plans and had him submit the Absolute, he seethes in your ear about it. As much as he is a changing man, there is a part deep down that will resent that fact for awhile. He could’ve had everything he’d ever wanted as a boy. “Look at you, such a dirty thing. Soiling my plans, stomping into my heart… and now you’re sprawled on my sheets pathetically.”

When you finally convince or wrangle him into going down on you, it’s a sight. A mess of black hair and hands wrapping around your thighs. His tongue works rapidly, lavishing you in slightly inexperienced licks. Sucking at your sensitive parts before returning to ravishing you with his tongue. It is not that he hasn’t gone down before in all his years… it’s that his ego was so inflamed that he never truly thought or cared for it before you. He’s willing to try and work on better things just for you. As such, this is a way of showing his commitment to you. Not only to indulge in his pleasures but to show he cares about yours.

[redversaillesrose]

Show only fans don’t know about Lestat running face-first into a window. Or that he sucks at math. They don’t know he is friends with a guy called Gregory Duff Collingsworth. They don’t know his main personality trait is being 6ft tall. I need an episode of him narrating the time he broke into a store to “steal” clothes he paid for, or so he hopes, because he isn’t sure he made the addition properly because he is bad at arithmetic despite having vampire brain. They don’t know he claims people unironically refer to him as the James Bond of vampires. They don’t know about his signature violet shades. They don’t know he let his mom eat first after he turned her, even though he was fucking starving, because he is such a little gentleman and felt it was the proper thing to do. He learned to read on his own thanks to his Advanced Vampire Brain, which apparently can teach itself how to read, but addition is where it draws the line. They don’t know his favorite color is violet. They don’t know one of his aliases is Sebastian Melmoth which is also the alias of Oscar Wilde author, of his in-universe bestie, Dorian Gray. They don’t know how much he praises his blueish-greyish-purplish, soul-sucking blue eyes and his blonde hair that reaches just up to his collar that can appear white under fluorescent light and his 6ft height which was kind of a big deal back in 18th century France he’s six feet have I mentioned this already also omg aren’t those the same traits that Magnus robbed him of his life for? Tbh, girl? Same. I also suck at math.

[yukimiyaz]

TABLE ETIQUETTE

chigiri hyouma x gn!reader

includes: vampire chigiri. count chigiri. blood/drinking blood. kind of objective talk of humans as food/meals. heavily suggestive. reader is wearing a corset & suit.

notes: well. i’m back. and unwell lol. not proofread we die like men.

Chigiri Hyouma is a man of etiquette.

Doors held open. Announcements when entering a room. Eye contact while listening. Faint touches–when appropriate–during polite conversation. A bow of his head as he takes his leave. Taps of a napkin to corners of mouths. Over coats over rain puddles. Pristine hair in perfectly threaded plaits.

Polite. Charming. Charismatic. Poised. Elegant.

Even now, as his chilled palm presses to the warm bend in your lumbar, it’s proper. Not too low, not too high; just the right height as he leads you around the ballroom by the lining of your corset. A true gentleman, on full display.

“Chigiri.”

“Barou,” he greets, tipping his head in acknowledgement. A dashing grin pulls the edges of his mouth in a curve so delicious you have to glance away. “Good evening. I trust you are well.”

Barou hums. You smile.

“Shoei,” and you hold out your hand. He takes it–barely–and cants his head down to feign a kiss. His pale lips never quite press to the sanguine of your knuckles just like his eyes never quite catch yours. A display, an endearment.

A show of respect to the count on your flank.

“Evening,” he grunts, because he should, because he wants to. Only to you, only for your partner, but still. The thought is sweet. 

You giggle as you retract your hand and lace it with your other in front of your abdomen. Manners, etiquette. This man was not meant for a world like this and yet you think that's actually what makes it so becoming of him. Strong features and even stronger build. Waistcoats fit him well, even if he tugs at his color far more than a man of his rank should.

Chigiri never tugs at his collar in such a way.

Of course he doesn’t, because Hyouma, as you know him, is a man of class. He knows the footwork to every ballroom dance and the order of every dining room utensil. His lips glossed with a cherry tint and his cheeks to match, showing dignity. Head held up high but not haughty, chin raised but no look thrown down the nose.

Classy–in every right. Yes, Chigiri Hyouma is a man of class, a man of the utmost class. His fang catches on the corner of his lip, his hand presses more firmly to the base of your back.

“And the hors d'oeuvres?” 

You hadn’t noticed it until he asked, but at the collar of Barou’s shirt, hidden between the ruffles he keeps tugging at, is the tiniest speck of burgundy. Wine, perhaps. A dribble from a little too sloppy of a sip, one would think. Just something a little careless from a bulk of a man grappling for any sense of inebriation to deal with the stuffiness of the night’s events.

Chigiri reaches forward, slender fingers pinching the cloth between perfectly manicured claws. He inspects it, and you nearly miss it. 

There’s a slight twinge in his brow, a hitch in the bob of his throat as he combs over the drop with his eyes. Deducing, conspiring. It’s disdain, in the faintest form. Something out of order, something not quite right. Chigiri isn’t a freak about these things, but he isn’t a practitioner of them either.

A single wave of his hand as he pulls away and a service hand is gliding over a second later. Just as polite as ever, Hyouma greets him.

“Would you care to take my guest to find another blouse?”

“Of course, sir,” he nods, and gestures for Barou to follow him. The latter does, albeit begrudgingly and while mumbling muffled curses under his breath, but he does nonetheless.

“How kind of you,” you commend, half-taunting half-sincere, as you flash him a grin.

“I am nothing if not hospitable,” he counters, without missing a beat and with his full attention on you. 

Keen roseate irises tracing the outline of your own, your cheeks, your lips. You swallow. Chigiri’s hand slips to your elbow. 

“That you are,” you agree, because it’s true. Chigiri is oh so charmingly hospitable. Extravagant dinners, affectionate displays, endearing escapades. All of each so well thought out; all in celebration of you. Even this gala, right now, is thrown in your favor. For what occasion, you do not remember. But for you, it is, regardless–always. “Must be some tasty hors d'oeuvres.”

He laughs lightly as you take a sly sip of your wine–just wine. Grape only, for your taste. Or strawberry, or muscadine. You hear Chigiri’s selection is exquisite, but your stomach is not so.. inclined to your partner’s diet. Not so well acclimated. 

You nearly gag just thinking about taking a swig from his collection. 

“Yes,” he adheres. “I permitted Isagi to partake in the rumination of this lot. His choice of selections certainly tend to be more…” he pauses, catches a fang on the edge of his grin as he trails his fingertips down the length of your forearm, “Favorable, among the crowds. I thought it best he settle my indecisive debacle, since I do not indulge.” 

A chill claws its way up the slim crevice between your spine and bodice. A sharp inhale, a glance away. You feel the heat on the back of your neck before the swirl in your stomach.

“How hospitable indeed,” you circle back, daring a glance through your lashes. 

Of course he doesn’t indulge–how uncouth of an implication. Chigiri Hyouma, the count of such high esteem, does not need–no, does not want such privy finger foods. He reserves himself for better things, richer things; full of flavor things. Delectable and pristine and exclusive.

Chigiri Hyouma’s reserve means nothing to him because he reserves himself to you and you alone. After all, it is not proper etiquette to share one’s plate. 

And he is a man of proper etiquette. 

“My dear,” he addresses, and you cling. To his fingers that find their way to yours. To the sweet saccharine words that drip from his love laced lips. To his hypnotizing gaze that draws you a millimeter–two, three–closer. You cling and adhere and, oh.

Something about a rich man devoted to you makes you hot inside.

“Mhm?”

“I would also like to enjoy tasty hors d'oeuvres.” 

And he says it in a way that is so courteous. With a kiss to your knuckles and a thumb to chase it. A stare so intent it’s enticing. A grip so sure it’s unfair. He says it politely, gently–not pushy, never pushy. 

“If you would be so inclined to join me?”

Like such a fucking gentleman.

“Mhm,” agreeing before you can even think it over properly, before you can even chew it over. But it wouldn’t matter, would it? Because when have you ever, how could you ever, say no to him? Turn down such manners? Decline such a kind offer? So respectful. Well behaved. Well bred. 

Well trained.

“How hospitable.” 

It’s him, this time, saying this to you. Commending you for your acceptance of his invitation, for his outreach of privy. There's a bubbling in your gut, a giddiness biting back at the confines of your corset. He holds out his arm and you take it; lace yours through and allow him to lead. Skirting through petticoats and performers, acquaintances and aristocrats, towards the edge of the ballroom. The heel of your shoes click in a dazed symphony and Chigiri places his gloved palm over your arm.

A sense of security, an implication of trust. A courtesy–through and through. 

As you reach the doors they are pushed open by the two men standing guard at them. It isn’t until then do you hear them–the hors d'oeuvres. Faint whines and weak moans mingling with dancing viola and sonorous cello. You catch a glimpse as you pass the door; Isagi, mouth latched to a pretty brunette by the jugular, and Rin, tugging at dark wrist. 

You swallow, throat thick, and turn away. Tasty, you’ve heard. Delicious, it’s been countered.

Your eyes trail up to the man walking beside you. He’s already staring back.

“Delectable,” he supplies, as if he could read your mind; like he’s plucked the thread of your thoughts right out of the seams of your mind. “You are purely so.”

And, oh. You are far more than an hors d'oeuvre. 

A break away, a sidestep. You find yourself nearly shying away now, even though a comeback is on the tip of your tongue. Another chill, a deeper flush to your cheeks. You clear your throat and hope the great observer is not too mindful of you now.

(You know he is).

“That’s inappropriate,” you condemn, finally, as the bat unhooks its fangs from your cotton tethered tongue. “We are still in public, you know.”

The halls are empty, save for a few stragglers stumbling from back rooms and servers on their way to discard empty rimmed glasses. A weak attempt to stave off your embarrassment, but an attempt nonetheless.

You are simply lucky the count chooses to indulge you.

“You’re right,” he atones, grasps your hand again to place yet another kiss there. But this one lingers; a second too long to be considered chaste, a breath too chilling to be completely genteel. “Forgive me, my love. I do not wish to tarnish your compelling image. Will you?”

You nod, because what else could one possibly do when rose petals are staring heartfelt daggers into your soul. You nod and you sigh, contented.

A vicious slice of a grin cuts through you. “Wonderful,” Chigiri adheres as he pulls from you slightly to push open a heavy door. “After you.”

And there it is, the charm. He puts you first and places you second and loops you to third as is. He circles you, in everything, and keeps his priorities straight. Like a proper man–a count–should. You listen and step into the room. Pressing a palm to your stomach, you urge yourself to settle. 

You suppose you do, in a sense, at the familiarity of it all. The plush cushions of the couch, kissed by the curtains as they dance lightly in the breeze from the window. Cool night air tickles your warm cheeks as you make your way over to it, positioning yourself fittingly just shy of the middle. And you watch.

Chigiri is a man of etiquette. He does things just so and in the way they should be done. He closes the door behind him gently with not so much as a muted thud. He glides over to the vanity on the wall and stands in front of it, and the routine begins.

Sheer glove of his left hand tugged loose from thumb index, middle, ring, pinky, then off in one swift thring, only to be placed neatly on the hardwood. Then the right hand, the same way, until it finds its mate on the tabletop. Next, the cufflinks. Undone and refastened on themselves before being placed with a pair of clinks into their glass case. Then, the overcoat; shrugged out of and folded over once before being draped across the florals of the vanity bench. 

It is now, and only now, does he turn to you.

“How are you finding this evening, my dear?” he questions as his fingers find their way to the buttons on the front of his vest, undoing the first one.

You try to swallow again. “I’m finding it well.”

“And the dancing?” The vest is off now, placed on the cushion next to you.

“Tiring.”

“Ah, I imagine so. You must be approaching exhaustion,” he sighs as he steps in front of you. Fingertips to shirt collars–he still does not tug. No, he gently unknots the furrow of his tie and moves along smoothly to the pearls. One slips out, then two. 

“Yes,” you mutter, and find yourself gripping the hem of the cushion ever so slightly.

Chigiri kneels, now. Left knee down, then right to follow suit onto the plush of the woven rug in front of you. The buttons of his shirt are unfastened all the way down to the middle of his abdomen. Stone carved ridges peaking through, collarbones cutting out of the loose linen window. He reaches for his sleeves, now, and begins to roll. Neatly, of course. One fold over the other.

“Fraternizing can be so draining,” he contends through heavy lashes, deepened irises and laden lids. He’s wrapping up the last sleeve, tucked to his elbow, outlining the muscles of his forearm deliciously. “I, for one, am simply famished.”

“Y-Yeah?” You ask, and curse your voice for coming out so shaky. Like you’re nervous, like you’re scared. 

“Yes,” Chigiri says; you aren’t sure to correct your improper verbage or to agree, either way it has you sinking in the cushions, just a bit. Just enough that your knee grazes his shoulder. Just enough to be an invitation.

And yet, despite that, Hyouma is still such a gentleman.

“May I?”

You nod, because you’re too busy getting ready to bite your tongue to even attempt to use it for words. A cool hand skims by your ankle, then your calf. It trails its way along the inside of your knee, fingertips dancing in the moonlight seeping in from behind you. You peer through the candlelight, admire how Chigiri’s pretty face appears softer, here.

Once his hand raises above your knee, a shudder escapes you. Chigiri grins, you bite the corner of your lip, and he pushes your legs further apart, slots himself in between. And he looks at you, as he presses in with more fervor, now, snakes his way up to the corset that conceals the waistband of your trousers. His hand drifts back, past your hip and is met by the other as he leans in, reaches behind you to the ribbon laced there.

And now, only now, does he tug.

He does so just enough to loosen the knot of the bow, pull it until it’s undone–until you’re undone. He’s so close, his face inches from yours, his chest melding in, his torso to your thighs. He start to loosen the torque of your binding, little by little, bit by bit, until your breath starts to seep back into you. Until you are, finally, able to swallow down an inhale.

Your hot exhale fans across his cheeks and he grins at you. Sweet and soft and in a way that is so posh it makes you want to scream. But you fight it; the urge.

To lean forward, to reach out, to grapple. You fight and you wait and you sit still and pretty just like you’ve practiced so well to do. You do this because that is polite, after all. That is proper etiquette.

Your back is guided to the cushion behind you before you can even realize you had been leaning forward wantonly this whole time. You’d blush if you held more shame in your bones, but you long since gave that up. No need to tip toe when you can galavant.

You leave the tip toeing to Hyouma, after all.

Once it is loose enough, Chigiri slides his hands underneath the binding of your corset. He lingers there, on the plump of your abdomen, before he finds his end goal. He takes the fasten between his fingers and undoes it tantalizingly slow. You think you’re going mad. You feel this isn’t very courteous at all. 

“I thought you said you were famished.”

It comes out before there’s a chance of stopping it. Where you suddenly found the gall, you aren’t sure, but oh, does it ignite something. A gleam, a glimmer. Nearly enough to miss there’s a sheen that glosses over Hyouma’s eyes as he settles deeper on his knees before you.

A button pops loose out from the seam of your trousers.

“You’re far more chatty than Isagi’s hors d'oeuvres,” he notes with a sharp wrench of the waistband that has it settling at your hips, “My dear.”

A chuckle escapes you–from bewilderment, anxiety–you’re not quite sure the origins matter when there’s such a powerful man knelt before you. 

“Tastier, too,” you counter, fix him with a slow blink of your own. 

And that, oh that gets to him. 

“Tastier,” he agrees, pulls at your pants until they’re past your hips, thighs, calves. On the floor, tossed to the side, discarded as if they did cost an arm and a leg. (And you would know, you’ve seen the price of those). “More delectable.”

He leans in, presses an open mouthed kiss to the inside of your left knee. He slips his hand under it, while he’s at it, and hooks it over his shoulder.

“Piquant.”

Another kiss a little higher, this time paired with a nip of his teeth. Ever so faint, ever so light. A breathy gasp is snatched from you. Your fingers dig deeper into the cushion. Cool release, slick lips have you nearly quivering. Enticing, taunting. He’s so pretty.

“Delectable.”

He’s nearing the crease of your hip and thigh now. At the inner part where the few strands of hair that have slipped out of his braid tickle you just enough to make you restless. Though, if you are truthful, everything about this man makes you so. He nips at your flesh again, with a little more intent this time, a little more pressure. A tease, a taunt.

A warning, to be polite.

“My darling, you are just divine.”

And Chigiri digs in like a man starved. As he takes his first bite into the meat of your thigh, piercing fangs embedding themselves and staking claim. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the initial scream that rips its way out of the confines of your throat. You breathe hard–rapid and heavy for the first few seconds as your vision burns white hot.

And then, as cool tongue lavs over twin indents, it begins to settle. A slow burn, a duller sort of pain. It’s more of a throb in your muscles as Chigiri grasps at your hips. He tugs you to him, mouth still latched, and sucks. 

It's deep and hard and writhing; you can’t help it. Your hand finds the back of his head and you tug at the hair there, knocking more out of the plait as your other attempts to ground yourself to the sofa. 

And Hyouma is feasting.

He is a man of honor and class and elegance; but when he is here, on his knees before you and drinking from your supply like it is the manna from heaven, that is all gone. His table etiquette goes out the window and suddenly he is all smeared lips and matted hair and raunchy sacrilege in the name of dinner time.

And to think, he was so concerned with a speck of blood on Barou’s collar.

“Hyou-Hyouma,” you whine, fighting to keep your consciousness intact as every minute passes. 

A gulp is your answer, and another. And another. You tighten your grip in his hair, peer through batting lashes at the hair getting stuck to crimson coated cheeks. He pushes himself in, like he wishes he could bury himself here, between your thighs. You feel hot; and willing, and wanting, and oh.

You might just pass out. 

“Hyou..” It’s weaker, this time, your whine. 

And for a moment you think it falls on deaf ears. Chigiri gets in a trance sometimes, after all. Drinks a little too much a little too fast and gets himself a little too blood drunk on the high of it all. But after another few seconds the gulps turn to sips and the sips turn to sucks, until there’s only kisses being placed to your freshly made punctures. A salve over it, like a blood smeared band aid. 

Chigiri presses his cheek to your other thigh–slick and blood stained–and gazes up at you. He’s all dopey grins and lazy smiles as his thumb traces circles into your hip bone.

“My dear,” he adheres, affection dripping off of his tongue right along with your bodily fluids.

You gaze at him, glassy eyed and lethargic. Patting his hair down, a weak chuckle weasels its way out of you at the sight. How can someone so proper simply be so ravenous? Someone so posh be so besmirched?

“You’re going to need a new blouse,” you taunt, hand dropping to rest on his shoulder, where his once pristinely white shirt now drapes over his angular frame, now dyed a deep seeded scarlet. 

He laughs at that; hearty and kind and loving. He gives your hip another squeeze, closes his eyes in content.

“Yes, my beloved. And thank you,” a sloppy kiss pressed to you, “For this bountiful meal.”

liked & reblogs appreciated :)

[igglemouse]

I make it home just as the sun takes its last peak for the day and as he walks me to my front door her stands there, lingering. He wants to say something or maybe he wants an invitation inside? I think he's just thinking of a reason to hang around longer, but why? Maybe he's just interested in me ooooor "You're not a vampire are you? A daywalker?" I ask laughing and he chuckles back. "Do you need an invitation?"

"No, no, but I guess it would be proper. I am a gentleman, after all."

I suppose that's fair.

"I, Gracelyn Matlock, invite you, Niklas, into my humble home!" I declare with a flourish of my hand and a little flair to my voice.

He laughs at my goofiness and I hope appreciates the extra theatrics "It did not have to be so formal but thank you, I'll take it."

Gracelyn Matlock ~ Next Post

[wwouldvecouldveshouldve]

my boy only breaks his favourite toys

okay so ttpd track name let's see how this will turn out feeling after we actually get to hear the contents of it... anyways, this was requested by an ABSOLUTELY LOVELY person, and I cannot wait to write it! <33

(a little swearing, also lots of toxic behaviour. mentions of blood and drinking it)

I INTRODUCE TO YOU ALL: vampire fyodor stuff!!!

vampire Fyodor has many of his own beliefs regarding being a proper gentleman. so, he is completely against drinking YOUR blood but turns finding a suitable blood donor into an activity that you can both partake in! you get to walk around, listen to my little vampire rat man, and... enjoy the night? even though he's anemic, he's a vampire now! he is much stronger and has more stamina, so if you need help with something he would happily help you. you'll have to repay him some time, though. Nikolai gives you funny looks if he ever finds out. Fyodor will be pissed off if he ever does, though, because Fyodor thinks he's the only person who deserves to be around you. everyone else is so sinful, after all, and he's doing so much work to cleanse the world of sin. he is possessive as fuck. he just wants you for himself, is that so much to ask? he will respect your boundaries for a week and then use that as an excuse to completely push them the next. if he is jealous of someone, he will just have them gone and keep you with him and demand attention and affection for however long he wants. he will also make plenty of schemes. he wants you to do something? the plan is set in motion, and he won't have to lift a finger. if you do something unexpectedly nice, he'll shower you with whatever you want. priceless gifts, his love, someone's head, you name it.

pretty short, I don't read a lot of vampire stuff but I tried. have a wonderful day or night to all of you, I love you so much.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #2 - bedroom window

elijah mikaelson x reader

summary: sometimes you neglect to close your blinds before getting dressed, completely forgetting people can see through your window. this is one of those times.

tags: partial nudity, embarrassment, crushes, damon being damon

word count: 660

a/n: based on this tumblr post! ↓

You hum to yourself, looking for the perfect top to fit with your jeans. Three shirts are laid on your bed, but you’re not sure which will be best. You’re thinking to yourself, completely unaware of the people around you. Specifically, those outside your window. 

“Look at that,” Damon snickers, nodding up. 

It’s you he’s referring to. You, standing in the middle of your bedroom, with only a lace bra on to cover your top half. Sometimes you forget that people can see in from outside, so you don’t often close the blinds. 

Curious, Elijah looks up, but only for a second as he realizes what’s caught Damon’s perverted eye. “Let’s knock on the door,” he suggests, wanting to bring the man onto the porch where he could no longer see you.

“Buzz kill,” the younger rolls his eyes. “It’s her fault for not closing the window.”

“I will not listen to you talk about women like that. It’s her house. You should not be looking in.”

“So grumpy.”

Elijah doesn’t answer. He rings the doorbell instead, keeping a watchful eye on the other. 

“I’m coming!” You yell down to whoever rang the bell. 

Damon, of course, lets out a chuckle. 

“We can leave, if you’re going to be vulgar with her.”

“I’m not being vulgar. Chill out.”

“The only reason we’re here is to talk to the little witch. Ask her if she knows anything about Bonnie’s whereabouts. Then, we’re leaving.”

“Alright, fine! Jeez.”

A second later, you open the door. Your hair is tousled like you were throwing on a shirt on your way downstairs, and you probably were, but it makes Elijah smile. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t harbor a little crush on you. 

“Hi,” you greet, then realize who it is. You make eye contact with Elijah and blush, but glare at the other vampire. “What brings you here?”

“Sorry to intrude, Y/N,” the original starts, “we were just wondering if you had any news on where Bonnie is. It seems she is still missing.”

Your face falls at his words. “No, I haven’t heard or seen her. I’ve been looking.”

Before Elijah can say anything, Damon interrupts. “Well look harder. We need her.”

“Damon, I swear to-”

“Do not talk to the young lady like that, Mr. Salvatore. I hear it again and we will no longer help each other out on this case. She deserves more respect than that. We know Y/N is looking for her, they are close friends.”

“Maybe she’s lying to you. She knows where Bonnie is.”

“I don’t!”

“Why would she lie about her friend’s disappearance? The girl could be in real trouble and you’re calling one of her closest friends a liar. She is telling the truth. I trust her.”

You smile to Elijah, “thank you.”

He returns it. “If I hear anything about your friend, I will tell you.”

You nod, and promise you’ll tell him, too. 

“Well, thank you for your time, Y/N. Oh, and,” he steps closer to your ear, whispering, “you may want to close your window in the future, because some do not know the proper way to see a lady.” 

Damon can hear every word, but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying it out loud. Still, though, your face goes bright red. “Th-thanks, ‘Lijah.”

“We’ll be in touch, Y/N.”

“Okay.”

You just about die of embarrassment the minute you shut the door. Damon had certainly been looking at you, half nude, through your window, right before you came downstairs. The thought of that disturbs you to your core. However, if Damon saw you, Elijah must have, too. Only for a glance, because being the gentleman he is, he would’ve looked away instantly, but a glance is a glance. Your cheeks heat up with blush, and a thousand fake scenarios of how that encounter could’ve gone if Damon weren’t there start to flood your head. 

[serenelia]

ᴍᴀꜱQᴜᴇʀᴀᴅᴇ

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ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ/ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Content includes: SFW, mentioned vampire Harbinger Childe, ball room dancing that's probably all over the place, the reader experiences stress (to say the least) and vomits.

Scroll away if you don't entertain any au's regarding vampires, witches, and hunters. Also this is quite long (yes again), almost two-thousand and five hundred words, grab a drink!

If you haven't read the first part: ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟ

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Before she could even begin to theorize who the person was, she’s promptly shut up once he ceases spinning her around and intertwines their hands. One of his hands takes hers from the same side and places it on his shoulder, resting his on her waist soon after. The gentleman looks.. soft; compared to his intimidating gaze and aura, his features are similar to those of a porcelain doll. A pretty one at that. If one were to differentiate between Childe and him, she could definitely say with confidence that the stranger is more pleasing to the eyes, one would be easy to be distracted by such a man.

The two stared at each other as they swayed gently from side to side, and [Name] felt her breath be taken away upon examining his face even further. Illuminated by the bright light of the chandelier above, his soft indigo-colored hair framing his soft cheeks, his pale skin, and sharp eyes perfectly compliment his very being; even [Name] could feel herself slowly starting to get insecure in his presence. And upon shifting her gaze to his lips, she could see the corner of his lips quirk up and the shine of a sharp and long fang.

[Name] gulps. “Is it too late to back out now?” the stranger muses, evidently entertained by her previous comment that was very obviously for the man she danced with before.

“..My apologies, dear sir; I had intended that for my previous dance partner, Childe, who.. had suddenly left.” She forces herself to look away, her gaze locking with the audience as she turns away, and sees Childe scurrying away in the crowd, not even bothering to look back at her.

Well, it's not like she wanted him to, but she was hoping he'd be attached somehow. Those make the killings easier.

The latter snorts, “Do you…” His laughter dies down as quickly as it came, and [Name] didn’t have enough time to react as he abruptly raised their intertwined hands and spun her around, eliciting a surprised gasp from the lady.

He slows her down after a few spins, intentionally making her land right on his chest. He places a careful hand on her back, pulling her closer, and he whispers, “When dancing with someone, it's rather rude to focus on other people, don't you think?”

“…” Her eyes widened, her mind turning to mush at their nonexistent distance, and her heart started beating loudly in her chest. Yet before she could even respond, he swiftly maneuvered her back to her previous place and started swaying them once again, wearing a small but polite smile.

“..My apologies; I was simply confused for a mere moment.” [Name] says through gritted teeth, mentally cursing at the rate of her heart at that one cheesy action. How many more times is he going to spin her around?!

“Forgiven,” he replies, a smirk growing on his lips. “I am Scaramouche, the 6th of the Eleven Harbingers. I must apologize for my fellow Harbinger’s actions. I’ll make sure to ask him to give you a proper apology later.”

[Name] smiles back politely and shakes her head. “Good evening, Sir Scaramouche, I am Lady [Name]. You ought not to, I’m sure the matter is something of outmost importance for him to handle.”

“Even if that is so, it’s still rather rude to leave your dance partner in the middle of it.”

“You need not to fret; I take no offense to it.”

Scaramouche squints his eyes. “Lying is not a very friendly mannerism to a stranger, is it?" he says, tilting his head to the side and peering down at her.

forcing a smile, [Name] made an effort to avoid glaring at him, “Quite so, though, may I ask why you took it upon yourself to replace my previous partner?” her charm was working marvelously on Childe, a little more would have him end up in her lab. Why did he have to intervene?

The Harbinger replies in a sly tone, “Upon realizing his gaze would inevitably stray away from you, I had to clean up after him to make sure he doesn’t do more harm than good.”

[Name] raises a brow, “Then one should not bother himself with a fleeting matter such as this, I assure you, there is no need to occupy your time with a dance.” She removes her hand from his shoulder and takes a step backward with her body following suit, accompanied by an outreached hand; the latter does the same and assists her once she spins herself and lands carefully near his chest. His hands outlining her waist, she wraps her arms around his neck and threw her head back as Scaramouche leans her downward.

She tries her utmost best to avoid ogling his face, “Why, there is no need to belittle this wonderful dance; I am finding it rather enjoyable, so consider my time well occupied.” Scaramouche praises, though [Name] could clearly see the empty words behind it.

He guides her back to her feet by the waist, “I am incredibly honored to hear such.” [Name] lies, moving her hands from his neck back to his shoulders as they started swaying side to side, frowning at his natural beauty and nonchalant behavior.

a flicker of doubt crosses his face, “..I find myself honored as well to be able to speak to you, Lady [Name].”

[Name] forces out a smile.

silence overruns the space between them, both plastering polite smiles on their faces, one more visible than the molecule of a smile the other has. After a few more seconds of their bodies swaying, they switched their perspective positions and once again intertwined their hands together. [Name] takes a step back before raising their hands to hang above her head to be able to place herself by his side, facing the opposite direction with their arms resting on top of each other.

To her surprise, it was he who broke the silence between them: “How does one find the event so far? I hope it suits to your adequate tastes.”

[Name] glances at him from behind. Is he one of the people who arranged the whole event? Or maybe well acquainted with the person who did?

Perhaps she should watch her mouth from now on.

“This event has been wonderful so far; I can tell a lot of effort has been put into it to make it satisfactory for both races,” she replies, which, in a way, is true.

Scaramouche suppresses what sounds like a scoff: “Yes, this whole event wishes to bring both the human race and the vampire race together.” The two break off the physical connection between their arms and held hands, with Scaramouche raising them as [Name] spins herself before doing the same for the latter. After he spins, they repeat their outstretched arms by their sides. “I must say, this whole idea is rather.. idealistic. Don’t you think so?” he continues, gaze glued to her figure during the whole step.

[Name] remains silent for a second longer. “Why does one think so?" she asks, her eyes finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. They each took a step to meet at the center and held hands, withdrawing for a mere moment before letting go of one pair as she started to slowly walk in a circle around him, with Scaramouche having to adjust his hand over his head once she made her way behind him.

“Anyone who had proper education would be able to process that.. ideas like that are just utterly impossible. It defies the natural law in the food chain, no? With who has the most favor in the eyes of the “gods,” it’s pretty obvious whose more deserving to rule.” Scaramouche states.

[Name] could almost trip at the absurdity of his belief. “…Is that so?”

He tilts his head once they come to face each other. “Do you not agree, Miss [Name]?”

“I.. don’t have a particular view on that subject,” [Name] mutters, lowering her head slightly to avoid his unwavering stare. Aside from the predicament she finds herself in, at least she can confirm that this gentleman is a vampire. A psychopathic human who would be willing to be a blood bag for vampires doesn’t seem to be a plausible explanation. It is also worth adding the glimpse of a fang she saw earlier, further supporting her theory. The only remaining challenge here is figuring out where he prefers his blood to come from.

They repeat their outstretched hands from their side, and [Name] could feel her anxiety (or could it be giddiness?) spike up once she felt his hands embrace the sides of her waist firmly after she spun herself to land with her back to his chest, “To be able to grasp the true reality of this hierarchy-focused world, one must adapt their beliefs and get rid of this foolish agenda,” he speaks up while lifting her carefully into the air, her feet kicking purely out of instinct at the loss of ground beneath her. [Name]’s heart rate only increases as he spins himself around, taking her along with it, her beautiful dress a dazzling display for the awed audience.

He swiftly gently places her back on the ground, their hands instinctively finding their way to each other, “Only in that way can you accomplish your desired goals,” Scaramouche adds, his eyes boring onto her whole being with silent but much perceived expectations. [Name] feels the overwhelming urge to run away to her bones; she feels naked around him. With the way he worded his sentences and the tone along with them, it was as if he knew everything about her already.

Cold sweat drips down her back.

What does he mean by that?

Does he mean something more?

Does he know I’m a witch hunter already?

Is he going to expose me?

Oblivious to her panic, Scaramouche continues dancing to the music, seemingly thinking she’s merely thinking about it in her head. He decides to take the lead. His hand always with hers as they became the sole partners left dancing under the light. Their movements were graceful and calculated, appearing to be peaceful for both parties, with the exception of [Name], whose expression slowly turned to one of morbid horror the longer they danced. Scaramouche, for some reason, doesn’t react whatsoever, only keeping a small smile on his face. Only giving rise to her unparalleled feeling of distraught.

The cheerful atmosphere inside the manor suddenly becomes claustrophobic, and the space around her seems to be choking all the air remaining inside her lungs. She needed to get out of there fast. She had underestimated the gravity of her whole situation; she had overestimated herself.

When will this dance end?

The music provided by the musicians was constantly fighting with the dominating ringing in her ears, the muffled voices of the audience increasing and decreasing in volume; it pierced her ears, yet it was almost as quiet as the soft whisper of the wind. Her feet stumbling even at the perfectly made marble floor, her heels screeching upon contact, they trip among themselves, every spin and turn made, but never did she make an attempt to run away. She can’t.

It’s all too much. She could feel the merciful brush of the wind upon her hair, the warm touch of the light above, the tight hug of the corset in her chest, yet the most primary of all, his penetrating gaze set on her, the strong scent of his cologne hazing her mind, his cold touch on her clothed skin, leaving a burning sensation behind. Every trail of his finger from her hand to her shoulder, down to her waist, creates a shockwave of shivers that resonates with her very core.

Please, please, have pity on me, gods!

Let this night end!

Suddenly, everything stops.

The crowd applauds as the music slows down, and they’re both standing in the middle of the circle, facing one another. [Name] had to take a moment to process it. She scans the room around her, and with her raggedy breathing, she can’t find it in herself to say anything, let alone breathe in his presence.

It’s… over?

Something heavy and tight presses itself against her neck, and she involuntarily flinches. Her hand immediately shoots up to her collar; it grasps on nothing. The imaginary force’s hold on her tightens as she locks gazes with Scaramouche. “I thank you again for having this dance with me, Miss [Name]. I hope the rest of the night treats you well.” He purrs and takes her hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss on the glove.

She clutches her free hand tightly, “..To you too… Sir.” [Name] manages to croak out, barely hearing him over the sound of her heart in her ears and the audience’s amazement.

And with that, he lets go of her hand and leaves his station, blending in with the crowd only a few seconds later, and [Name] is left on her spot, frozen. Looking in his direction with a chill up her spine, this mission was too precious to give up, but was it really worth it just for her experiment?

Her stomach twists and turns in her throat, and [Name] makes quick work with her feet in finding the restroom.

She hastily washes her mouth and hands after exiting the cubicle, banging her hands onto the sink counter repeatedly.

Curse him, curse him, curse him!

her voice strains itself in her throat, tempting her to let it out, but imagining the possibility a fellow guest walking in on her and having to explain brings a blush to her cheeks and a headache in her already dazed head. So she settles by whispering it loudly to herself instead, resulting to her coughing into the sink as flashbacks of the previous dance floods her mind. She takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, but it proved to be useless meditation for his smell clouded her sense of smell everywhere she turns. Oh, how she wishes she could wash it off her right this moment.

It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

the sensation of dread and excitement only continued to plague her mind. It never occurred to her—the real danger of being undercover and having a dance with your victim. It was as if the gods were punishing her and keeping her humble.

She scoffs and takes out a small container she kept hidden in her, opening it before applying the ingredients imbedded in it to her lips, wrists, and neck.

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..this was originally supposed to be like 5k words but I held back (my schedule partook in it too). Truly, I was supposed to make this plus two more scenes all in one post, but I was editing and decided to check the word count and... almost 2,500k words... And I know that'll be a mouthful 😪 and I thought that if I delay it further I was afraid ya'll would lose interest and would probably forget about it, haha.

Apart from my self-pity, I really enjoyed making this! Took me like 5 days for this and the rest of the outline.. It was still enjoyable nonetheless. So I hope it's a joyful read too!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!

[cyberskulzzz]

Could you do Rory (mbav) headcanons??

sorry I took so long,I dont know if I ate or if these are absolutely controversial but hope you enjoy<333

Rory Keaner Headcanons

General headcanons:

•Trans female to male (ftm) and definitely grew up catholic. 

•His dad and him dont have a great relationship due to that,the only reason he was able to transition was his mom,which he is very close to and thankful for.

•He went no contact with his dad as he got older.

•A bit of a mommas boy. 

•I think he’s either straight or pan,idk I just get the vibes. 

•Had a crush on Benny at the beginning of their friendship. 

•Listens to fallout boy. 

•YAPPER obviously 

•Obsessed with sour candy and will eat way too much of it till he gets sick. 

•Has the deepest sleep ever and can literally sleep through 13 hours every weekend. 

•No social filter what so ever,doesn’t mask at all. 

•Has a hot wheel collection of cool race cars. 

•Great with kids cause he’s energetic and playful obviously. 

•I feel like nowadays he’d dress in a 2000s teenage dirtbag way but maybe Im also just delusional,who knows. 

•Dog person 100%. 

•A stoner,I just see it,not a lot but occasionally with Erica or Benny,they try not to smoke with/around Ethan there cause weed just makes him more anxious. 

Boyfriend Rory:

•That boy immediately stalked your socials,any information he could get was appreciated,it also meant that it was easier for him to flirt/start a convo with you,cause let me tell you that boy was NERVOUS. 

•Clingy,texts you every five minutes and follows you around like a lost puppy. 

•Sees anything as a date,from keeping you company at appointments or while running errands to just doing nothing all day,its a date. 

•Worships you and the ground you walk on,that boy is so obsessed with you,sometimes he’ll just stare and ask himself how he pulled you. 

•This might be controversial but I think he’s trans I just see it,and you being his first long term partner gives him SO much gender euphoria,he just adores you. 

•Will not stop talking about you,no matter the topic he finds a reason to bring you into the conversation when talking to Benny or Ethan,which annoys them,a lot. 

•A gentleman,respective of your boundaries although he might be a teeny tiny bit too fast forward or pushy sometimes.  

•LOVES to hear you yapping,though I feel like he’d zone out sometimes and just admire you (blah blah blah proper name place name back to my stuff). 

•He was those starwars lightning swords(I think thats what they’re called please don’t come for me🥲🤞) and you guys have play fights with those. 

•Just a lot of play fighting in general. 

•Although I see his music taste going more into 2000s emo,pop punk,if youre a pop girly/boy he will listen to the pop girlies,I could see him especially liking Sabrina Carpenter or Taylor Swift (him and Ethan start arguments about Taylor cause Ethan‘s not a fan apparently.)

•Can be forgetful,might forget dates or to include or offer to include you in the groups plans,he does feel incredibly sorry when he notices though. 

•Will offer to turn you into a vampire more than once but is definitely scared to actually bite you cause he doesn’t want to hurt you or scare you. 

•Very stubborn when arguing and will give you the silent treatment,not for long though. 

•You’d routinely watch some paranormal documentary on date nights along with getting pizza. 

•That boy has ADHD and maybe a bit of the tism (same Rory same) so he’s always down for activity dates,I could see him LOVING the fair or an arcade. 

•I feel like his (giving) love languages are gift giving (and he’d go all out with it) and physical touch. 

•Love language wise when it comes to receiving for him,is 100% words of affirmation,compliment or praise him and he’d immediately melt. 

•A bit out of character,maybe a headcanon for when he’s a bit older of course (and confident)but I could see him having lingerie polariod pics of you in his clear phone case,without your face on it cause he doesn’t want to show you of like that,its just a reminder for him. 

•LOVES LOVES LOVES hearing your gossip and is really really invested in it too,if its from your social life or even just pop culture doesn’t matter,that boy will be listening full time. 

•Would definitely take you on night flights to enjoy city lights or you’d people watch through windows so you could gossip. 

God I love him

Taglist: @pr3ttyf4wn, @pinkestglittercat, @ray2o2, @bettyweir, @throwback-town, @t0b7z-pl47h0u53

Divider credit: @ianrkives, @witchrealms, @thecutestgrotto

[artstar1997]

Meet the Boo Crew, who are also led by Poppy and Rose. They are later formed at chapter 3 when more monsters volunteer to join Poppy and Rose in order to take out loyal gileadeans and feast on them so that the rebels can infiltrate in secret while trying to find out about the identity of the monster hunter. Only six of them joined in by choice, one of them became a member of the Boo Crew out of love towards the vampire princess.

Billy Reverb is a vampire whose clan is a subordinate of the Nevermore Clan. When he and Rose first met, they zinged (love at first sight for monsters), even if they don't know it at first. As the story progresses, they are drawn to each other and want to know more about the other. Since he’s a hard rocker, his outfit is inspired from Lestat de Lioncourt from Interview With A Vampire and the leather jacket is inspired from The Lost Boys movie. He has the similar abilities and powers of a typical strigoi but his unique vampire ability is pyrokinesis, which is similar to Nandor the Relentless from the sitcom, What We Do In The Shadows. His relationship with Rose is similar to Gomez and Morticia Addams.

After running away as a child after destroying her family home with her uncontrollable powers, Cybil considers a coven of wise, motherly witches as her family. They explained to her that her real family descended from witches, wizards, and outcasts combined and she is finally at home with them. Not only she was free from the oppressive regime, she is also happy to be with those around her who accepts her for who she is. The elders taught her how to control her magic powers and her new friends, who turn out to be Rose, Poppy, and the Snack Pack are able to help her become the witch that she is is meant to be. Upon becoming a fully-fledged witch, she later joined the Boo Crew because she wanted to spy on the enemies with crystal balls, make potions and elixirs for them to use, and casting spells.

Holly Darlin’ is a Minotaur who ecstatically joined the Boo Crew and the muscle of the team like Smidge, whom she forms a friendship with. Being the strongest member, she is able to lift heavy things with no problem, and her head-butt cause pillars to come crashing down. A yeti could match her strength that she and Guy Diamond would have friendly arm wrestling matches.

Rave-loving gillman, Synth was chosen by one of his friends, Trollex to join the Boo Crew and he lives in an abandoned mansion near Nevermore castle. He is a skilled dancer, DJ, musician, and he uses rave lexicon. Like his species, he has amphibious physiology, which gives him the ability to breathe underwater, talk to aquatic creatures, speed swimming, and water manipulation, which enables his species to stay hydrated but what makes him scary is his rows of razor sharp teeth, which he uses as weapons against humans when he goes into full shark mode and smell fear from people.

Dante Crescendo is a mothman with class and lives in a fancy mausoleum in a nearby cemetery with his brother, Forte. He is known to be prim, proper and posh who can be a little uptight and stuffy, but is pretty much a kind and friendly gentleman and he knows when to be humble, go out of his comfort zone, and other things he couldn’t do because of wanting to maintain his proper demeanor. He is also cautious about monster hunters and when he gets nervous, he eats any fabric that he gets his hands on, such as a handmaid’s bonnet, a wife’s handkerchief, or a commander’s coat, which would cause devastation for the high-ranking Gileadeans because their clothes were chewed on by him. He can also change his outfits with his signature cocoon spin.

Suave and scientific, Lownote Jones is a mummy who lives in a pyramid with his treasures, his vital organs, which he keeps in jars, ushabti servants, and his pet scarabs, who act as his assistants, and companions. Lownote is calm, cool, and collected with a suave and charming personality that can charm both monsters and humans alike. As a former architect and inventor with privilege, Lownote is very intelligent and analyzes the teams’ attacks and raids first before they go ahead and under Rose’s approval, she lets him make changes. Like all mummies, he has a glass breaking scream, can speak to animals (crocodiles, scarabs, snakes, and other species of animals that are associated with the ancient Egyptian deities), psammokinesis (sand manipulation), and he can cast ancient Egyptian curses and spells.

Val Thundershock, on the other hand, is a kitsune, which is a magical subspecie of a werefox. Having arrived from Japan with her father during the rise of the Republic of Gilead, Val is still learning how to use her powers. They were able to trick anyone who is loyal to the divine government with their illusion casting, elemental powers, and magic powers until Val heard about the Snack Pack and was referred by a werewolf named Barb to join the Boo Crew. As a kitsune, Val has the usual superhuman condition and abilities of a werefox but she has illusory powers, elemental manipulation, and can use magic but in a form of a foxfire to trick her prey.

There’s more to come so stay tuned, ghouls and mansters!

[braveclementine]

October 1: Somnophilia (Carlisle Cullen)💙

Warnings: 18+ readers, Somnophilia (a kink where someone likes fucking or being fucked in their sleep), praise Copyright: I do not own Carlisle Cullen or other Twilight characters. I do not condone this being copied.

You and Carlisle had a wonderful relationship. You were both deeply in love with each other, despite your fragile human existence. That didn't stop the two of you from having a normal relationship with each other though. Especially your sexual life. 

Although a lot of the time, you felt you were holding back his ultimate pleasure as he was more focused on trying not to break you in his arms then if he was getting off. But he wasn't really one to care more about his pleasure than yours anyways. 

Seriously, Carlisle was the sweetest, most compassionate man- vampire- you had ever met. He was also highly intelligent and extremely attractive. Not to mention perfect self-control so you were never in any danger from him. 

Of course, the only problem was once your career was established, you started seeing each other less and less. He was in the hospital from seven in the morning till nine at night. You were working from five in the morning till seven at night, which led you to eating and falling asleep before he even got home. 

Sure, he would see you in the mornings because he didn't sleep- but there was no more room for any sexual plays with both of your schedules so busy. 

So you made the call. 

"You don't sleep at all and I do." You stated. 

Carlisle paused, fixing his tie in the mirror. You were on your way out the door for work and he was just getting ready to go into the hospital as well. 

He said nothing as it was a very obvious statement. 

"I want to try something." You said. You were hoping he would want to, as you felt that maybe if you weren't awake, then maybe he would find more pleasure or something. Your brain might not have been working. But it sounded exciting regardless. 

"What is it?" He asked, genuinely curious as he started to lace up his black dress shoes. Alice never let anyone wear anything twice except shoes. These were Carlisle's favorite pair. 

"If you come home and you're, you know, wanting to get loose, you can come in and make love to me even if I'm fast asleep." You stated, slightly awkwardly, slightly excitedly. 

Despite his superior vampire reflexes, he still almost hit his head on the corner of the dresser as his head snapped up to look at you with those penetrating golden eyes. "Huh?" 

You had efficiently knocked the well spoken man down to a single syllable of confusion. Not even a proper one at that. He never used slang. 

You sauntered over with a small smirk to put a hand on his cold cheek and kiss him. "You heard me. You have that wonderful vampire hearing after all. You don't have to if you don't want to or if you're uncomfortable, but I want you to know that I'm okay with it. More than okay, really. I actually find the idea somewhat exhilarating. It's up to you." 

And with that, you had left for [Your Job]. 

Over the next few months, you assumed he'd forgotten. Or maybe he had done it and you'd just never woken up to it.

But as that had been November and it was now becoming April, you were starting to think he most definitely had forgotten. 

In reality, he had not. It was on his mind every night when he came home and saw you sleeping. He knew it would be easy enough. And he really, really desired to. But then you had to remember that he was from the 1600's, and what you were asking from him was probably considered rape back then. And Carlisle was nothing, if not a gentleman.

But then he gave in. 

He'd had a horrible day at the hospital and all he had wanted to do was come home and tell you about it. He knew you'd be asleep, like you usually were, but he wanted to so badly. He wanted to tell you about how he'd had a patient die on him, one that he had really cared for, for the last couple of months. And he had been so young and that life was unfair, but he hadn't dared saved him with vampire venom. He was wondering if he should've. You would know what to say, you always did. He wanted you to make him feel better. 

Back at home, he avoided the rest of the family. He didn't want Jasper or Edward picking up on any vibes from him and then having the entire family converge on him to console him. It wasn't their love that he wanted. He didn't want to talk to any of them. 

He undid his tie, watching your sleeping form in the bed, bought specifically for you. Your mouth was slack, your H/C hair spread out on the pillows. You were wearing a thin grey T-shirt with Stitch [Or other fav Disney Character] on it, and a pair of stitch blue knickers. As it was summer, you only had a thin sheet covering your body as you got hot easily. 

He slid out of the rest of his clothes, leaving them on the floor which he never did, eager to join you for the night like he always did. Even if he couldn't sleep, he still liked sliding into bed next to you, even closing his eyes for a few hours, pretending. 

"Carlisle." 

The mutter made him think you were awake and he turned to respond before he saw that you were, in fact, still asleep. 

Your chest was rising and falling just a little faster and he was suddenly hit with the smell of your arousal. If he could've blushed, he might've. 

Well, who was he to deny your wet dream about him? 

He tossed the sheet back from the both of you, letting the white fabric float down around your ankles. He carefully moved on the bed to position himself over you. Your thighs were clenched together, rubbing together unconsciously in your sleep. He gently pushed them apart, before gripping the sides of your blue knickers, ripping them effortlessly. He tossed the two scraps of lace over the back of the bed to flutter to the floor.  

He felt Lord- his alter ego- purr with content as he lowered his mouth to your sopping cunt, lapping your release to his hearts content. He felt all the tension and sadness bleed away as he continued to eat you out with fervor. He savored the sweetness of your honey, the taste tangy on his tongue. 

"Carlisle." You murmured, bucking your hips in your sleep. You were deep in a dream where Carlisle was fucking you, and it was starting to feel very realistic. It was almost as though you could actually feel his cool tongue on your pussy. 

His ministrations were done with vampiric speed, faster than any human male could have done it, his tongue fucking you eagerly. 

He sucked at your clit harshly, drawing soft mewls from your sleeping form. Your arms fidgeted and it was almost like you wanted to roll over. His hands pressed firmly down as your thighs tried to close again. His tongue could feel your walls pulsing and you orgasmed without waking. 

Feeling emboldened, Carlisle lapped away every drop before pulling away to observe your sleeping form. 

Beads of sweat had appeared in your hair line, showing that you were hot from the experience. Your chest was heaving with deeper breaths, your lips parted to hear the shallow gasps you were taking. Your eyelids were twitching, but you were not awake. 

He smirked a little, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, before lining himself up at your entrance and pushing in. 

You moaned softly, fingers twitching as he bottomed out inside of you. Carlisle started to thrust, feeling every emotion except lust and love drain out of him as he let everything go. His fingers deftly played with your nipples, twisting, rolling, pinching, pulling, everything he could and wanted to do to them. 

Finally, your eyes fluttered open, another moan coming to your throat and leaving through your lips at the wonderous feeling you hadn't felt in a while. 

"C-Carlisle." The stutter told him that you were awake and his eyes snapped to yours. They were a mix of black and yellow and it told you that 'Lord' was in play as well. 

"Well hello there darling." Carlisle growled, teeth grazing your pulse point on your  neck, making you whimper. You could feel the knot growing and you sucked in your stomach like you were trying to get away from it. A bad habit of yours. 

"Took you l-long enough." You murmured out, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pounded into you relentlessly. 

"I had a bad day." Carlisle murmured before sucking a large hicky on your neck. "Such a fucking bad day. So I'm just going to fuck you into the bed, yeah?" 

Oh my god. He'd cursed. So hot. Holy shite. Oh he was in such a bad mood. 

"C-Carlisle, I-I'm gonna c-cum." 

"Go ahead darling." Carlisle said, biting your neck gently. "Fucking cum all over my prick."

You let go, closing your eyes, crying out his name before he finished in you as well. 

He pulled out to lay down next to you and you curled your body around him. You peppered his face with sweet kisses before leaving a lingering one on his cool lips. His cold body wrapped around your hot one. 

You settled back down, running your fingers through his hair, a way of comforting him. He'd always loved feeling your hands in his hair. You moved your hand down to cup his marble face and you smiled gently. "Now, tell me about your day."

[nightingale2004]

Twilight next generation: Rosalie x Emmett version.

Felicity Lillian Cullen Hale

Faceclaim: Chloe Rose Robertson

Felicity is the oldest adopted daughter of Rosalie Hale and Emmett Cullen

She was adopted as a kid and grew up alongside the triplets.

She wasn't turned into a vampire until after her seventeenth birthday

Rosalie didn't want to turn her daughter, but she and Emmett knew if they didn't, they would be in more trouble with the Volturi

After Felicity was turned, she was gifted with the power of Charmspeak and she uses it to protect her family

She is called Letty, Fifi, Cece, Fee, and Fliss for short

Emmett calls her princess

She's like the mother of the family

She knows her own self worth.

Felicity is her mother's daughter.

She knows that being beautiful is natural for vampires, but it doesn't stop her from putting on makeup and being a ✨️fashion icon✨️

She loves fashion and often talks ideas with her aunt Alice for new designs

She and her family all lived in Alaska until they moved back to Forks

When they moved to Forks, Felicity and her cousins were admired by the students like their parents and treated them like celebrities

Hopes and prays to find a love like her parents

Is extremely vain and takes care of her looks constantly

Has a handle on her thirst

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Christopher Royal Cullen Hale

Faceclaim: Owen Joyner

Christopher is the adopted son of Rosalie Hale and Emmett Cullen

Christopher goes by Chris, Roy, or Chrissy (the last one is his sisters). He is also often called "Your Highness" or "handsome"

When Chris was a baby, he was abandoned until Emmett and Rosalie found him and took him in

He grew up with his sisters and some of the members of his family

After his family moved to Alaska due to the triplets being born, some of them went their separate ways but stayed in contact and do family reunions very frequent.

He doesn't like the wolf shifters but has a mutual respect for them

He's a mama's boy but he loves his dad as well

Plays football and baseball with his family

Unlike most of his family, he doesn't have a gift, but like his father. He is very strong

Was turned like his sister when he came of age

Is jealous of his family but loves them all the same

Struggles with his thirst for blood but tries to train himself to keep it together

Loves history, and he is a proper gentleman. He also has a love for the medical field like his grandfather Carlisle

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Emmalie Marie Cullen Hale

Faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter

Emmalie is the third child and second daughter of Emmett Cullen and Rosalie Hale

Like her brother, she was a baby when Rose and Emmett took her in

Emmalie is nicknamed Emma, Emmy, Em, Lily, wildflower, firecracker, and Spider-monkey (the last three are her parents)

Emma is her father's daughter

Like her dad, she is completely reckless and playful, but she is also rebellious and free-spirited

Like her brother, she doesn't have a gift but she doesn't let it bother her.

She is a tomboy and constantly teases her older sister

Loves getting her hands dirty

She plays sports and joins her mom in the garage, fixing up cars and checking out engines

She doesn't have complete control since she is one of the youngest in the Cullen clan, but her family helps her keep it together

Loves being outside and hunting with the family

When they moved back to Forks, Emma and Nessie tried to make the best of their situation

Emma and Nessie are extremely close

[ruanbaijie]

During the Republican Era, Shen Zhiheng, a member of the Tianjin gentry who happened to be a vampire, offended the Japanese and became the target of an assassination attempt. He was saved by a blind young lady, Mi Lan, and his best friend Situ Weilian. When he went to repay Mi Lan for saving him, he discovered the terrible family situation that Mi Lan was in, and so began to pay more attention to her. Meanwhile, Shen Zhiheng’s plan to take revenge on Li Yingliang, the mastermind behind his assassination, fell short of success thanks to Li Yingliang’s Japanese superior, raising suspicions about his identity. Since then, Li Yingliang and the Japanese were in hot pursuit of Shen Zhiheng, determined to dig out the truth about his secret.

Binged Snowfall, fell absolutely in love with it, finished the novel, and decided to try my hand at my very first proper translation project 🥹

Please do not repost this anywhere else or retranslate it! For different sentences/ phrases, I’ve chosen to either translate close to the original Chinese phrase or to replace it with something that is more commonly understood in English, depending on the context. Retranslating this English translation to another language may further dilute the original Chinese meaning.

Translation footnotes will be available at the end of each chapter for any words/ phrases I feel need a more detailed explanation of nuances.

MAIN DIRECTORY ☾ READ ON AO3

Shen Zhiheng [1] could be considered a good person, in fact, a relatively decent one at that.

He was in his late twenties at least, or his early thirties at most, in any case, he was in the prime of his life. His looks were also of a decent calibre: he was tall, like a clothes rack, and was even more sophisticated in his dressing, always in a proper suit, as if he could stand behind a glass window at any time and pretend to be a mannequin.

Not only was his personal appearance already of such a level of perfection, his assets and wealth were also abundant. Although his origins were a bit of a mystery, within the Beiping [2] and Tianjin region, he had started by investing in newspaper companies to make a fortune. After that, with his shrewd acumen for finance, he had spread his investments everywhere, using money to make more money, and had rapidly become famous in Tianjin. Beyond his wealth, he also published poems and essays frequently in the newspapers. Although some said that those poems and essays were ghostwritten, but there was really no need to nitpick over such an issue. As long as everyone knew that he was both talented and rich, both handsome and wealthy, that was enough.

Now that he had both money and time, and that he was a major investor of several large newspapers, two of which were in the concession zones, he could rely on the support of his English, French, and American friends, and even on the gangs to have his back. The newspapers he supported had nothing to fear, daring to publish any piece of news, to scold any person, and had even offended the Japanese this year.

The Japanese themselves did not understand how far his resources reached, that he could actually dig up their political secrets, and after that, publish those secrets directly in the newspapers instead of making use of them to enter negotiations with the Japanese. This caused a societal uproar, and even a few student protests. And because they could not get a grasp on his social connections, the Japanese did not dare to fall out with him. Instead, they first tried to dangle carrots in front of him, trying to use benefits and sentiments to move him. Little did they know that Shen Zhiheng was a cold-hearted young gentleman with no lack of money, and who entirely could not be moved. This caused a certain Commissioner Yokoyama Akira [3] to be very annoyed, as if he were playing a game of unrequited love and had been met with complete ignorance, to his complete humiliation.

Annoyed, the commissioner wanted to have Shen Zhiheng killed. Actually, Shen Zhiheng also knew that there was a possibility that the commissioner wanted to have him killed. However, in recent years, his life had been smooth sailing, too smooth, that it caused him to be blindly positive, and not take this possibility seriously. It was to the extent that when the commissioner decided to make his move, Shen Zhiheng was still absentmindedly making public appearances. As he had in previous years, he organised a charity event, where he gave the local beggars a cotton-padded jacket and five cents each.

Everyone thought that Shen Zhiheng was a good person, and on this point, Shen Zhiheng agreed with them. He also thought that he was not bad, at least he could live up to the word “good”. The only unresolved question: he didn’t know if he could be considered a person [4] or not.

Fortunately, this was not too urgent a question. After all, compared to everyone else, he looked even more like a human, and at least for the time being, he wouldn’t go so far as to say that he would be treated as a demon and burned to death. Besides, this question was not necessarily unsolvable. For close to ten years, Shen Zhiheng had been pretending to be human and flourishing, and he believed that he could find the answer for himself.

Unfortunately, this night, while he was on his way home, the self-confident Shen Zhiheng accidentally had his head blasted, and then even ground to pulp by a car.

Mr. Shen wanted to cry yet simply had no tears left, and very nearly died from agony.

------------------------------------------------------------

In the original novel, the characters for Shen Zhiheng’s name are 沈之恒, which differs from the 沈之衡 used in the drama. Both 恒 and 衡 are pronounced as “héng”. However, while the former means “lasting” or “constant”, the latter means “to judge” or “to measure”, or to refer to something that is balanced. However, in certain scenes of the drama, Shen Zhiheng’s name is still written as 沈之恒, although the subtitles and drama marketing materials use 沈之衡.

What Beijing was called from 1928.

The Kanji characters of Yokoyama Akira are 横山 瑛, which in Mandarin Chinese pronunciation, is “héng shān yīng”, with “Hengshan” being his surname and “Ying” being his given name. In the show, as the Japanese people have been replaced with Chinese people instead, Yokoyama Akira is now Chi Shanying 池山英 “chí shān yīng”, with “Chi” being his surname and “Shanying” being his given name.

As in “human”. The Chinese character 人 (rén) can refer to both a person as an individual, or a human as in a human being.

[juststoriesintheend]

Oooh another vamp Sol enjoyer! As a vampire the masquerade storyteller, I’ve been hoping someone else would see the possibilities.

i'm definitely going to be brainstorming vamp sol ideas for when we get to september & october. there's so many ways to write him like this

you can have the prim and proper, elegant jedi who appears to have everything put together, but is hiding a deep, dark secret about what he does in the night, this curse that he can't escape from

or you can have it work as a sith/dark side au where sol puts on a front like dracula - a gentleman, polite and well-mannered, incredibly gracious but somehow off. and then when opportunity strikes, he takes what he wants, how he wants it, and he drinks his fill no matter the cost

i'm also incredibly fond of the vibes from the 1992 dracula. the drama, the intrigue, the tension????? reincarnated soulmates and angst, chef's kiss