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sleepy-fiction · 3 months ago

Text

Like Vampires Do.

Alucard Tepes x vampire!reader NSFW

syn: your lady Erzsebet was killed, so you venture to revenge her death by killing your ex-lover Adrian Tepes. What you fail to consider are old, bitter feelings of unprocessed heartbreak to peak through your scheme. Through the shared regrets of the failures of your relationship, you come face to face to what you're scared of the most. Love and Adrian Tepes. and u fuck like dogs too but that's beside the point

tags: bdsm, knife play, blood play, hate sex, cunnilingus (male receiving), breeding kink, freaky dynamic, reader has a fear of love, alucard has a rejection fear, sadistic reader, mostly bottom alucard

a/n: PROOFREAD. this was a fun post!! love u whimpering men. also I ended up changing the plot while writing, so the intro might be a little jaded, but over all it should smoothly transition to the new plot.

6.8K WORDS

Alucard, now that he is over three hundred, is attractive in the way observing his every move is a treat, but to be physically intertwined with him is a different story. He is attractive in the way blooming flowers are, how they glisten and glow, having their own aura and status. With eyes brimming towards the future, overcome with prowess. Alucard three hundred years ago had most of his humanity still within him, it's easy to see how the two of you could intertwine. But now he's more vampire than he is human, and how do vampires love? Do vampires truly have soft spots for eachother? And is he worth spending the rest of your eternal life with?

These are the questions that run through your mind as your greedy eyes peered out from the shadows of leaves. You were in Paris, brought along by the sounds of revolution, by the death of your lord Drolta and your precious leader, Erzsebet. And also, by the news that spread about the Alucard stationed in Paris.

You didn't feel you belonged here, not after all this time, not after all the blood spilt your hands. Nothing but crippling anxiety built up in your belly, the bile taste like poison through your vampiric teeth.

You've known Alucard before.

Back when you were human.

The two of you had met on your travels to India. You can easily remember the nights rolling around in silk satin. The warmth of his flesh and fading blonde strands against your bare skin. You remember the ecstasy of presenting your inventions and knowing that somewhere in the crowd lied your partner, Alucard. But you knew him as Adrian Tepes.

You also rememver how quickly all of the bliss went to shit.

You can clearly picture the night when Hindi vampires hailed from the sky. The fear, the trepidation. How your throat logged up, your eyes glossed over in affright.

You remember how Alucard grabbed you by the window of your estate-- but you, too panicked, too terrified, couldnt think straight and fought against him. You didn't listen, more so, couldn't hear him over the buzzing in your ears. So your physically weak body commanded you to fight against him to sit-- just for a moment all you needed was to sit down. Catch your breath.

But, you didn't listen.

Nay, you couldn't hear.

You remember the piercing feeling of--

You winced bitterly. Your hands flew to touch the burnt eclipse symbol on your forehead. Your hands shook, your heart drumming. It was better to stay focused.

But on what? Your mind was racing.

The atmosphere of Paris was lively, the night life was full of partying, as the smell of wine doft around the air. The city was full of glowing lights. You quietly stepped down the stone streets, careful to pull the heavy cloak over your face, and being ever more to hide your fangs.

You traveled down to a bar, following your most primal senses, and finding yourself peering in through the window. There, in the hubub of merry and warm lights, you could see him.

The Alucard.

Your Adrian Tepes.

Your breath fails you.

He's ever the more gorgeous than what he was before. His skin flushed an unnatural white, complimenting to his hair, now completely dull of blonde and bordering delicate sliver. His eyes were soft and doting, as he smiled at the bartender, engaged in a conversation your sharp ears could squander.

It was more so him listening, than saying a word.

You bit your lips, glossy tears brimming your eyes. You should walk in and slay him right now.

Slay him for your master.

Slay him for your h... Heartbreak.

Meekly, pitifully, your hand reached up to stroke the glass, guilt bursting through your body. But even though glass, your hand seemed to sear away from him. Even through glass, his sunshine seemed to burn your moonlit hands. No longer could you walk the day light the way you did before.

You are a creature of the night now. Undeserving to even try for the light.

Forlorn, bitter, and forgotten. Capable of only evil. And that is your reasoning for why you did what you had to do. You did what you had to when Erzsebet chose you. You did what you must, when you bathed in her holy blood.

Alucard has to accept it.

No, he's moved on by now. He doesn't even think of you after all this time.

Yet you could not.

By all law and by all reasoning you should be in there right now, either scorched to death by his paws, or destroying him in yours-- for your dead mistress's sake. But for some reason, now, one hundred years later, your body seems to forsake itself. It and everything you believed in.

Your teeth chattered.

There was too much blood on your hands now.

You could hear the bells of melancholy solitude.

Your fists clenched tightly.

Yea, and must you--

Suddenly, a voice calls out, "I know he's even more daunting in person," a hum trailing after her words. You turn in a shock, your eyes finding a small blonde girl dressed in pink, her hands folded as she stared through the window next to you. Her serious eyes fixated on the Alucard, her lips parted, the faintest air of a flush tinting her pale cheeks.

You swallowed thickly. You spoke, "Why- Yes." Seeing that she was no threat, you simply tugged your hood further. Your gaze averting back to the window.

She continues, "he has this aura. This presence... It brims with..."

"The cry of solitude," you mutter, unable to stop your pitiful hand from touching the glass once more. "Lonely little eyes, lonely stare," you whisper.

Look at you. Begging from your insides for him to turn and look at you.

She cackles, stepping behind you, "Yes, like an abandoned puppy." You suddenly feel magic swelling behind you. But before you can act, the little girl growls, "Move an inch and I'll cut out your throat," she spits.

You freeze on command, your eyes racing back to get a glimpse of her.

She grins, "I'm not stupid. Seriously. Who hangs around in a cloak at night mere days after the slaughter of thousands? Vampires are too predictable... Do you know how many of your kind has staged useless revenge attacks here? I'm not letting you get near Alucard. Ever."

Your eyes redirect themselves to the window, where Alucard parts with the bartender with a gracious smile. Your eyes clench close, savoring the memory behind your eyelids. You speak, your voice barely above a whisper, "If this must be my death, then so be it. For the glory of my lady Erzsebet--"

Yet fate smiles on you.

Before you could finish, you hear that husky, melachonly voice call, "Maria?"

It's slow and smooth, husky and rich.

Just as it was all those years ago.

Your heart caught itself in your throat. You should have never dropped your guard.

As the girl, who you assume is Maria, turns to face him with a zealous fire abrupting out her tongue, you shrink into a bat and take off to the night.

Being the luckier sort, you where able to escape.

Though you didn't dare glance at, him, you could feel the unmistakable burn of his body.

Alucard Tepes.

When the next night came around, you thought all of your juvenile feelings would pass. You thought seeing once would be enough; but your body ached until sunset, able to even sleep a bit during the day. You tossed and turned in the grass of the outskirts of the city, clawing at your chest, twisting and turning, trying to stop the cries that burnt down your cheeks; the wails that accompanied them.

After hours of agonizing.

You decided your pain must be stemming from losing your lady Erzsebet. How she stirs within you.

The guilt.

Of Erzsebet.

Nothing more or less.

"I- I don't know what I am anymore,"

"Let me tell you, please. I can tell you,"

You hissed at the memory, knees weak. Regardless of the omen, you took flight into the setting sky.

You found yourself on the balcony of one of the rooms in the castle. Your soul seemed to guide you to this particular one. Never have you doubted your instincts. The windows were open, the curtains flowing in the soft breeze. Your eyes honed in on the white figure, dressed in sleeping attire, latches on the front of his chest barely tied, revealing the delicious skin.

You stood still.

You knew that he could sense you.

But he continued to write, a small candle illuminating his face and letter.

You stepped into the room, shutting the windows and drawing the curtains. The room smelled of him, smelled of aged vanilla, and a hint of spiced rum. Your fingers trailed down the fabric of the curtain. It was rough to the touch, no doubt made to block sunlight. Yet still you could hear the wanton scribbles of ink on paper.

You spoke, "I've come to kill you."

Alucard abruptly stopped. He rose his head, slowly turning to lay eyes on you. He blinks once, then twice; his soft lashes lidded over his eyes. He spoke, "Step into the light."

Intoxicating was the sound of his voice, the breath of his commands.

You obeyed, inching deeply closer. As close as you could without being burned by the radiance of his skin. Which, for you, was right at the edge of where the candle light could meet you.

You watch Alucard's face twinge up.

An expression your body only knew as disappointment.

You were bathed in blood the day you became a vampire. No-- You were addicted to it. Even now, to satisfy your hunger, you drink human blood twice a year. Anything to prevent your previous uncontrollable calamity.

You slaughtered so many.

Unable to hear Alucard.

Unable to hear Adrian.

You told yourself you needed to find yourself and hid from him. Going to the corners of the world where he wouldn't find you. And then finding yourself worshipping a woman who promised to feed your uncontrollable addiction. To turn the world into an endless night, that you may drink as much as you wanted.

Hell.

You discovered your body had the taste for men's blood over women's. Something adverse to most of vampire society. It made you feel better. At least you weren't slaughtering the defenseless.

It was only after continuous mental failures that Erzsebet forced you to become clean. She locked you up somewhere in Chukotka, letting perma-frost deal with you.

And you came out even more power hungry than how you started.

Yes.

There was countless deaths on your hands.

You weren't misled. Although, yes, a part of you was. But there was an even larger part of you that acted of its own accord. A part of you that you didn't know that you couldn't control. You were fully a vampire, not half.

You want to eat flesh and drink blood.

Not the blood of pigs, or chickens, or cows.

Human men's.

So there you stood with a face of stone, holding a dagger in your right hand.

"Closer. I cannot see you... Come closer," Adrian called.

But you didn't fall to his will this time.

"Your hood... At least remove it... May I see the face of the vampire who wishes to kill me," he whispers. Truth was, Adrian already knew it was you. He had a feeling when he felt Maria's magic, and seeing the glimpse of your form fluttering away into the night, he knew that whoever it was was quite the peculiar vampire.

He promised Maria that he'd go after you, and that she need not to worry. But he knew whoever it was would be back soon. Just. He didn't expect it to be you. Only after hearing your voice did it all make sense.

Truly, this all was a trap, he had his sword floating meters above his head out of sight. And it was aimed right at you.

You obeyed this time, slipping off your hood to reveal your face. His eyes twinge in horror and delight. Delight, at the nostalgic sight of your beauty. The softness of your face, the sweetness of your eyes, those lips he familiarized all to well with. Horror, at the almost faded symbol engraved onto your forehead. At the lack of life or passion in your eyes and the deep eyebags that accompanied it. Horror, of how your pretty eyes had turned red- a token of your endless bloodlust.

It was so painfully beautiful to look at.

He knew you were smart, and judging by your eye color, he knew you'd be a difficult vampire to fight. But despite it all, his guard had fell to ashes.

"(Y/n)," he whispered.

"I haven't heard that name in a while... My queen gave me a new one," you spoke. "The person you knew before is dead. And only I remain."

"Don't do this, you don't want this," Adrian pleads. Unexpectedly, he stands up from the table, his eyes lost in empathy. A gaze that seemed to sear your body worse.

You flinch backward in surprise, but he continued towards you.

You stand your ground, and as his presence draws near, his chest inches away from touching yours, you pull your dagger to rest against his neck.

But he's close, awfully so. His cosmic aura radiating against you, his beautiful luscious hair coating his shoulders, his gaze soft and thoughtful.

You only hardened yours, not allowing a droplet of emotion to slip through, not even for a second.

Adrian swallows thickly, feeling the blade caress his skin for every movement. You were shutting down on him, something he's seen before. He saw it the best the day he tried to save you, and you blindly shut away from him, unable to see the rush of hindi vampires barreling out towards the both of you.

Selfishly, he didn't care about saving that city that day; he only wanted you.

He would've took you so far, he would've cared for you until the end of your days.

He yearned after you for so long.

It was his fault you were swarmed. There were too many to count. Too many to fight.

He didnt mean to leave you in that hoard.

He knew the world still needed him, he couldnt die saving you.

But... He came back for you.

Hell, it was too late.

His eyes weaken, tears brewing up, "I deserve it, my love. I've forsaken you- I failed you."

What you didn't expect was those words.

You push him towards the bed as he speaks, forcing him to sit and keeping your blade against his neck as he did so.

"My love," he cries pitifully, his hand weakly grabbing your wrist that held the dagger. "Dying by your hands is befitting. I've lived for too long," he whispers. His beauty glows, shining brighter for every tear.

You push him again, and he lays back onto the bed, gorgeous locks sprawled out. Automatically, he seems to crawl backward, only his feet dangle off the edge. You force yourself on top of him, your hand by his head, the other holding the dagger to his neck, with your knees on either side of him.

Staring at your dead face was worse. He didn't know how to please you. He begs, "Please, my love... Speak to me... My (y/n), my sweet..."

If he failed anyone the most on the world, it was you. You were the frankstein that his mishaps created.

He knew it then, he should have killed you. Spare you of the new life that awaited you. He knew it when you shook in his arms, how you spoke with bloody fangs and an even bloodier chin. He couldn't do it. So selfishly he left you alive.

This was all his fault.

You sliced a small cut on the side of his neck, shallow enough for blood to ooze. He whimpers out, eyes frantically shutting, his knee surging in distress. You dive down, licking a delicious stripe on his neck. His blood is deliciously sweet with a tart aftertaste. Your free hand cups his neck as you bury your nose into his flesh, fangs threatening to puncture his skin as you slurped and licked.

He groans out, head arched backwards into the plush sheets, hands weakly grabbing fistful of your cloak. In his desperation to grip onto you, the cloak slips off, so his hands spring onto your shirt instead. A trail of delicate whimpers and groans mewl from his pink lips.

You can't take it anymore, and puncture your fangs into his flesh. He cries out, fistfuls of your shirt growing intense wrinkles. You pull out your fangs and slurp and suck out his crimson as it explodes to meet you, body growing franatic on the taste. Your knees weaken as you hapzardly sit down on him. Beneath the hilt of your ass, you can feel his achingly hard cock, your freehand grips his flesh in primal surprise.

He turns slightly, forcing you out of his neck to look at him. It's quite the sight to see you, lips and chin stained with his blood. "(Y/n)... (Y/n)," he's begging pitifully, his face flushed. You don't let him speak for long, as you bury your lips against his, creating sweet music.

The sound of liplocking overtakes the crisp air, as you slurp up his tongue as he feeds it to you. Your hands fall lower onto his body, caressing down his muscular shoulders, your dagger meeting his chest. You break away, slicing another shallow cut on his pale chest.

He groans and arches into the blade. You sink quickly into the taste, licking it up bountifully.

You pull back to admire your work. Adrian laid sprawled beneath you, his gorgeous hair mingling with the white linen, his mouth agape and flushed, your saliva trailing from the corners of it. His neck sliced and punctured, as the remains of his blood dribbled onto the sheets. He was beautiful.

You softly grind your hips down against his, moaning out quietly, licking the blade as you did so. Adrian cried out, "W-Wait," and grabbed your hips, locking them in place.

You looked at him, and confusion poisoned his features.

"T-Talk to me," he grunts.

Your eyes narrow down on him, "What is it to talk about, Adrian? Our bodies want eachother."

Adrian shuts his eyes close, pain dotting his features. He sputters breathlessly, "I can't do this-- I'm too old... I can't be spontaneous like b--"

You quirk, "You cannot stay up anymore?"

His face brims red, "No! I can-- It's just... (Y/n), I don't want to just sleep with you and forget it-- I loved you... I lo-- care for you... I want you. I don't want to forget you."

Unsettling feeling springs up in your chest. "I'm loyal to no one," you spit. "You killed my master." You pull away from him, dagger still in hand, as you slide off the bed.

Adrian shoots up, rushing after you as you continue toward the window. He captured your hips within seconds, barely dodging the slice you swung as you turned around. He took the opportunity to pull you close, grabbing your wrist and holding your dagger back from another slice.

You groan and struggle like a wild cat. He sinks into your wrist, softly placing a kiss under where his thumb held you. He drug his nose upwards to your palm, where it hit the hilt of the dagger. In surprise, you dropped it, and it landed with a clamor. He follows up your hand until he rests his cheek on your open palm, forcing you to softly carress the skin.

Your breath hitches, that feeling springing up more and more. You try to claw away from it, your free hand to swing at his chest, your foot raising up to kick him uncoordinatedly.

Hurt flashes through Adrian's eyes, but he lets you go. Unexpectedly, you flew back into the closed windows, your heel getting caught on the curtains, making you slip back, falling on your butt to the floor.

In this vulnerable position, Alucard stood above you, hands behind his back, his gown giving away glimpses of his sleek legs. Frantic, your head begins to spin, as your eyes drag back and forth over his body. You whimper out headless sounds as you grab onto the curtain for support. Desperate to gain some sanity.

His smell, his taste, the sight of him.

It wasn't just overcoming lust, but instead this weird feeling from the depths of your brain, crying out. Some sort of emotional response. And emotions were the one thing you sought to control. What Erzsebet saw as a flaw in you.

Listening to your emotions.

Your eyes shut close, freezing up as you tenderly hold onto the curtain. Adrian's quiet, deathly so. You can feel his eyes draw in on you, and somehow it's worse than the fear.

He reaches and opens the window for you, the midnight breeze flying in as the glass door reveals the balcony you entered in from. You eyes pop open, glimpsing out towards the night sky.

Yet you can't bring yourself to leave either.

Your knuckles grow white.

"Leave," you hear him mutter, "You can leave..."

Your head whips to see him, an aura of empathy radiating off his form. All he sees is just another scared vampire.

But he knows if you leave, you might not ever return.

You've got too much of yourself to figure out.

You know that you should leave.

You slowly stand.

His heart burns and he looks off at the floor.

You finally, finally speak, "I-I can't leave... Surely, I'll die." Your heart pounds at the words.

"I'll tell Maria about you," he whispers.

No. He didn't understand. You didn't mean it physically. This was horrifying. Having to explain what you wanted most. Frustrated tears pinged the corners of your eyes, your hands shaking. Stress overcoming your pinched eyebrows.

"Al-- Adrian... Adrian... Adrian," is all you can muster out, a pitiful plea. "Adrian I'll die--"

But before you could finish the sentence, you were involved into a strong embrace. You could hear his cries against your ears as he kept bitterly, your hands weakly holding onto the clothes that hang around his back.

"Stay here-- stay here forever," he yearns.

Your heart bursts. "O-Okay-- Okay Adrian,"

And just as the morning sun peaks in from the clouds, Adrian pulls you back into his dark room, and shuts the door.

You are pulled deeper and deeper into his midnight lair, pulled until your feet crawl against the bed, where he tucks you under with him, encasing you in his arms and in velvet sheets. He seems to swallow you whole, entrapped in his love with nowhere to go. With nothing but fear of rejection lingering him, he braves through it, softly peppering the back of your neck with subtle kisses.

And with nothing but the fear of love in your belly, you brave it, ragdolling and leaving yourself vulnerable to his affections, and also how they make you feel.

Your back is flush against his chest, his legs against the back of yours as he spoons you. He has a strong arm laid on your body. It hooks through your chest and rests his hands on place by your sternum and collarbone. He's holding you there, holding you as he whispers, painful affections and peppers' sweet kisses.

You focus merely on calming your stress, sucking in slow breaths, desperate to process the last hour with him. Its hard to think of anything at all, when you hear his smooth, husky voice calling out your name caressing and kissing you.

You wince and groan out, as his lips dip to the start of your back. His hand releases you to pull at the laces of your shirt, undoing it to reveal more of your back. Your skin is cold, but definitely not uncharacteristic of a vampire.

His large, warm hand caresses the skin, and you arch and sigh out. The warmth drags deliciously slow strokes up and down your sensitive back, his thumb trailing your spine. He reaches and pulls the shirt off one side of your shoulder as he dips into it to kiss it.

You whimper, tension feeling the area.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he whispers.

You try to figure out his intentions by saying that, but the only thing that seems to spring up is genuine care. Tears prick your eyes again. You hate to say there's only one thing your body wants to say. But you have to be vulnerable to let it take over. You wince, and with shaky breath, you spoke, "It wasn't your fault, Adrian..."

His hand slips under your shirt and touches your bare stomach, the warm feeling spreading as he slides up to your ribcage, still kissing at the beginning of your back and neck.

"I failed to protect you, I couldn't help you, I regret it so much," he whispers.

"I ran from you too, Adrian... It wasn't all your fault... I was addicted to human blood... And in the hours you were gone, I already feasted on hundreds with the rest," you whispered. "I wasn't going to give that up... Not even for you."

"But--"

"You were powerless before. You were powerless again... You may be strong, but you can not out number the thousands," you pause, struggling either the next set of words, "Besides... You already fought so hard for me... It was..."

Adrian stops, eyes trailing to you.

"Admirable..." Your tone was fluttering.

He seems satisfied with the answer, as he sinks down, unbuckling your belt, and pulling out oneside of it. You grunt as his hands slip into your pants, large hand going to squeeze the warmth of your inner thighs. Despite it all, you still felt an overwhelming sense of peace. He continues to kiss his lips. You lick yours, tasting his sweet, dried blood.

You ask, "Do you want me, Alucard?"

He whines in your ears, "Of course I do." He's like an excitable puppy, just waiting to get off on you. And like a dog, you feel him start to grind against your ass.

A pleased hum escapes you. Within seconds, you transform into a bat, using it to reappear, once again ontop of him. He gasps in surprise, turning over to face you. You grin, caressing his cheek. "Look at my face, you think you can fuck this? Does this not detest you," you lean in with a hiss.

It was your turn to decloth him, as you raised his sleeping gown up higher and higher, revealing more of his pale skin. He's taken aback for a second, his eyes flickering between your ruby red ones and the fading sigil on your forehead. You open your mouth, baring your bloody fangs.

He whimpers, objectively bucking up into your hand.

How pitiful.

You grin sharply, by now his gown was pulled up to his stomach, his unmarked flesh ever so delicious in your eyes. You also took note that he wore no undergarments, his cock half hard as it arose. You sunk down on your knees between his legs, lowering yourself to his dick and laying your hands on his hips.

He grew harder in your stare. You scratched the side of his hip, the faintest dewlet of blood dropping on your finger tip. You brought it up to your mouth, staring deep into his eyes as you licked it away. He groaned, bucking upwards again.

"Ah, ah, ah... Patience, Adrian," you whispered.

He nodded powerlessly, his dewy hair clinging to his neck and face. You bring your lips to his cock, cupping the base of it with both hands, and misting your breath against the sensitive rod. His cockhead pulses towards you lips, you giggle at the sight. Finally, you sink your nose against the side of him, drinking in his scent.

"Oh- fuck," He curses, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. But he can't bring himself to look away. You were enchanting.

You open your mouth all the way, using the front of your fang with your front teeth to drag the smooth side of your teeth against his flesh. He whimpered and cried out, sloppily dropping a heavy hand on your head. You stop just before his head, where you tongue his tip's hole, using the sharper part of your muscle to do so.

He wains, trying his best not to fist your hair for you. Being so good for you.

You turn your head to the side again, sucking the side of his shaft, slurping and swaying against him with your tongue. He was more than hard by now, his dick long and skinny, no shorter than nine monstrous inches, a testament to his vampire side. It was a flushed pale pink, growing red by the second.

You let go of him, and his cock flops back against his stomach with a smack. You laugh, picking him up again with your index finger just to see him fall, again, and again. Adrian doesn't complain, merely, he uses his freehand to grip the sheets beside him, restraining himself all for you.

Once playing with his cock proved enough, you sunk into his balls, burying your nose into him, and ferociously slurping, sucking, and licking him up. He moans out in shock, as you use your hands to stroke his inner thighs comfortably. "Aaah- (y/n)," he seems to stutter out your name. As if a simple plea would make you take him seriously.

You slurp one into your mouth before the other, then you release and drag a long stripe upwards to his cock, and then to his cockhead. You scoop his dick up one last time before finally, finally, guiding him straight into your mouth. You hallow out your cheeks around his length, sucking him, and running your tongue briskly around the bottom of him. You bob your head pacedly to the sound of his wanton moans, using your hands to please what your mouth failed to reach.

Adrian's jaw falls completely slack, his grip tightening in your hair, wanton moans following out of his lips. It had been at least forty years since he had last had sex, the thrills of it burned his pent-up mind. Without thinking, he slowly began to thrust into your warm mouth, sliding himself back and forth against your soft, hot, moist taste buds. You grunt, adjusting your head to accept him better.

He mumbles, "Sorry- Sorry." But its met with an angry stare.

Well. If he's already in trouble, he might as well please himself while he can. His thrusts gain speed, his head hitting the back of your throat.

You wheeze around him, dropping your hands to grip his inner thighs, careful to not squeeze his cock. He takes this small adjustment as an agreement from you as he furthers all nine inches of himself into your deep throat. You can feel him tickle far into your body, a feeling you almost would've forgotten. Only Adrian's ever fucked you like this, and painfully, it sent pleased tingles down your body. Despite how you gagged and choked about him. The sensation was replaceable.

You were vice against him, a sign he was further than where he should, but hell it was exhilarating. His moans grew louder, his head doting back between looking at you and being lost in bliss. His thrusts began to slow as he slipped out of your deep throat, from your mouth, and came right as he slid out of your lips.

You gasped in surprise, as his warmth sprayed your nose, lips, cheeks, some of it dribbling down your chin. You cough, angrily wiping his cum off your face with your forearm. "How considerate of you, Alucard," you grunt, staring at the sticky fluids against your skin.

He merely laughs, "Do forgive me, love." Angrily, you slip off the bed. He calls out, "N-No wait I di--"

"Calm yourself," you hum. You slip out of your clothes, dropping your pants to the floor, sliding out of your boots, and pulling your shirt over your head. Your ruined undergarments fell just as quick. You briskly returned ontop of him, pulling up his gown to his ribcage. You suddenly pause, "Or? Did you not want me to undress?"

How could you say something so cruel when he was only looking at you during that whole process, softly squeezing himself to stay hard, and biting his lip when he saw your bare ass. He's restricting himself for you, can't you see how good he is? All it takes is one pitiful, glossy eyed look from him and you know what he's thinking. "Of course I- By all means, (y/n)," he tries to play it cool.

Your grin worsens. You grab him by the chin, as your freehand lines him up to your hole. Eagerly, you watch as his face constructs, eyebrows pinching forward in delight, sultry eyes staring up at you, lips parted to moan. You kiss your hole against his tip, puckering to seal the deal. He thrusts forward, dipping his head into your honey walls.

You moan, soon, giving all the way in and slipping down on his skinny cock. Your eyes fly to space as you take more and more of him, feeling his cock tickle your gut, until bottoming out. In sync, the two of you moan sharply at the feeling. Your head drops forward in bliss.

"(Y/n)," he sighs, his hands reaching up and guiding your hair away from your face. Last he remembers, you were never put out of commission just by bottoming out on him. Unless, you too were just as pent-up as he was.

You gaze up at him, humming. He becons you closer, so you drop his jaw and pick up your head. He takes the opportunity to kiss your cheek, just beneath your left eye. You giggle, "Aw, how cute."

Immediately you bounced on him, slowly dragging his long cock against your walls. Your head grew heavy again, as you rested your forehead against his collarbone. "Aaah, Adriaan," you hiss, your moans drowning out his whimpers.

You plunge down on his length, feeling him stretch about your gut, and you clench around his cock. That all it takes before Adrian loses it, frantically thrusting and bucking up into you. You cry out in surprise, "A-Adrian," your moan closer to an ecstatic wail.

He's speedy, relentless, his length seeming to make up for his lack of precision. Your body felt completely stuffed. He stimulated parts of you that where never before touched, at least, not by anyone but his cock. His hands gripped chunks of your bare hips, his eyes fucked out and lips spread, his fangs flashing in the disarray.

Your hand leaned forward, resting your palm against the bedframe for support, your head laying next to his by now, ass bounced about adverse to your accord. It was pathetic, as drool dabbled the corners of your lips. "A-Adrien-- Good- Good boy," you mewl, and it only sends him into a worse frenzy.

Through the barrage of frantic, doggish thrusts, your message gets sent straight to Adrian's fangs, a primal urge over taking him. He sits up, stopping for second, to lay his back against the pillow. You dazedly peek up from his neck, but quickly, he starts up thrusting again. Only this time, before you could even moan, he leans down and punctures your shoulder. He doesn't withdraw his teeth to draw blood. No, it's more so to lock you in place. His fangs split your flesh in second, the primal sensation causing you to arch and moan, grabbing chunks of his white locks.

Vampires fuck like dogs.

You reach forward with your free hand and dig your sharp nails into the flesh of his shoulder, drawing blood. Your brain turned off, and your lust fueled off the scent. His thrusts lose all coordination, and if it weren't for his length, he would have slipped out a dozen times by now.

With a deep, whiney voice, he husks, "I-I'm cumming- C-cumming-- I'm cumming," voice interrupted by your skin for every thrust.

"Cum you bastard," you snarl. No way you'd let him have all the fun, as you started to bounce downwards, fucking yourself on him in time with his senseless barrage. It's only through you that his thrust meets some sort of rhythm, as you clean up all his doggish mishaps.

Fuck, you'd be lying to say your climax wasn't rapidly approaching. Hell, it seemed to make you angrier. Next time you'll really fuck him up good.

With a cry, hot semen floods your warm insides, but you can't even look back, as Alucard's fangs trap your shoulder in place. His thrusts stop as he rides out his high, and it only worsens your agenda against him because you haven't even came yet.

"Bastard, have you lost all manners," you ruin his afterglow, as you ferociously fuck down on him again, quick and speedy, replicating it from before. A sadistic glow seems go brim your face, your moans full of delight. Adrian whimpers and whines, overstimulation causing him to buck, squirming away beneath you. Despite it, he doesn't loosen his death grip on your hips, nor does he remove his fangs.

As your moans spiked, he closed his ears to engulf the airy sound of you reaching your orgasm. You cry out, your knees stupidly giving out, bottoming out on him as you exploded. You dropped your head weakly forward, not that it could go anywhere, but still keep your iron grip in his white locks and your nails embbeded in his flesh.

You two were really doing this. Stubborn fucks, mating like vampires and engaging in a childish ritual. Whoever pulls away their fangs or claws first loses power to the other, a primal game as old as time that quickly overrides your natural senses.

Your nails possesively sink deeper into his flesh, unaware of how your red eyes flickered and bloomed a deeper shade. And for the first time in your life, you heard Adrian grunt and growl like a dog, having the upper hand with his teeth embedded in you. His grip on your hips were tight enough to crush and hurt. It only makes your insides flutter around him.

You pull at his locks, forcing his head back. He whimpers, fangs flying out with him, as a fountain of your blood springs out. It's your turn to finally release him, as you lean back, cupping a hand over your wound. You laugh, "Ah-hah..."

Your beautiful crimision leaks down your chest in waves, coating your nipples. He salivates and slaps a hand over himself. "Drink, my love. You've earned it," you mewl. With your freehand you lather yourself in your blood, caressing and squeezing your body as if it were any expensive lotion.

His eyes shut, hips bucking into you. You mewl. He groans, "I have never drank blood. Not once in my three-hundred-years of living."

You blink in surpise. "Aah... Is that why you didn't draw from me." Due to your vampiric healing, the wound closed, leaving only blood to remain. Your hand goes to join the other, as it scoops up a stripe of blood and guides it to your mouth. "It's gooddd," you cackle.

"I know, I can smell it," he grunts.

"Fine," you sadly part with his dick, sliding off the bed and grabbing your cloak from earlier; patting yourself dry. You can hear the bed shift behind you, feel eyes burning against your ass.

"You'll stay, at this castle, won't you?" He asks.

"For as long as I can before that girl comes to kill me," you laugh.

"Then, retreat to my castle."

"The one by the belmont settlement? Surely they'll kill me worse," you roll your eyes.

He grins, stepping out of bed and encasing you in a hug. He burrows his face against you, whispering, "Then I'll have to hide you. You can't leave this very room. M- My pet..."

Your eyelid twitches.

You know he's just trying to rile you up. But still, your fists clench.

"Oh hell, no," you grumble as you shove him back onto the bed.

His hearty laughter fills the air.

You get on top of him, raising meaningless fists (ones that weren't going to hurt him in the first place), that are captured by his hands. He laughs, the sound as pure as sunlight.

It makes your face scrunch playfully, "I am going to get you, I really am. I'll kill you first, Alucard."

He grunts, cupping your ass and tossing you off. You cry, playfully landing on your side. He crawls on top of you, a gorgeous beauty, and he pulls his luxurious white strands back away from his face. "I'd like to see you try," he mutters, but your eyes move to the scar across his chest.

"Mmh," you moan, eyes lidding.

"Shall we go again, my love?"

"I think I would like that."

#alucard tepes #alucard #adrian tepes #castlevania #castlevania nocturne #alucard x reader #alucard tepes x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard x you #adrian tepes x you #smut #nocturne spoilers #nocturne s2 #castlevania nocturnes

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resplendentoutfit · 7 months ago

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The Ubiquitous Regency Shawl

Shawls, often with a paisley border were an integral part of Regency fashion. When one looks at portraits of women during the era, they often have a shawl draped over one shoulder or held in the crook of the elbow.

Throughout much of the 19th century, Kashmir shawls were at the forefront of elegant fashion in scarves and wraps. They were as luxuriously soft as they were warm.

Cashmere shawls go back to the 11th century when they were first made in India, in the Kingdom of Kasmir, and imported to the west by the East India Company. During the early 19th century they were being made in Paisley, Scotland – hence the name we know the pattern by today. Innovations of the hand loom, allowed for weavers to produce patterns in five colors instead of the traditional two and creating especially lovely patterns.

Dress • c. 1800 • Cotton plain weave muslin with silk embroidery (Likely imported from India for the western market) • Los Angeles County Museum of Art

Left: 1811 pelisse (coat) with a paisley shawl in two colors

Right: Dress • American • 1818 (no facts on the shawl, though if it's authentic, an example of a five-color paisley).

Eduard Friedrich Leybold (Austrian, 1798-1879) • Portrait of a Young Lady in a Red Dress with a Paisley Shawl • 1824

#art #fashion history #painting #portrait #art history #empire regency fashion #women's fashion history #history of paisley print #regency shawls #eduard leybold #fine art #the resplendent outfit blog #art & fashion history blog #jane austen era #bridgerton

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cruel-as-the-midday-sun · 2 months ago

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Feral

(Roleplay thread for @queen-of-prophecy)

———

Sarin paced the halls of the palace, his sapphire blue eyes glinting with worry behind his eyeglasses. His tail flicked anxiously, ears twitching at every distant sound. It had been nearly a full day since Maharaja Rakesh had left for Earth.

Normally, such visits lasted only a few hours. The Maharaja often spoke about missing India’s lush forests, golden sunsets, and the scent of jasmine in the air. But he always returned before too long. Now, too much time had passed, and there was still no sign of him.

Sarin took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Something wasn’t right.

Determined, he made his way to his master’s chambers. He didn’t have the magic to open a portal to Earth, but he knew someone who did.

He searched through the Maharaja’s belongings, his sharp eyes scanning the silks, carvings, and golden relics that filled the room. At last, he found what he was looking for: an oval hand mirror with an emerald and ebony frame, resting on a velvet cushion.

Picking it up carefully, he steadied himself and then spoke the magic words:

"O Queen of Vines, so fierce, so wise,

Through emerald glass, hear my cries.

From shadowed realms to golden land,

Lend your gaze, extend your hand."

The mirror glowed with a soft green light, its surface shifting and blurring. Sarin watched, his heart pounding, hoping she would answer in time.

#queen of prophecy #cruel as the midday sun #goetia oc #helluva boss rp #Sarin is worried

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cuprohastes · 3 months ago

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What are you, the fashion police?

I'm once again reminded that there actually were fashion policing laws.

They covered, at various points in history, in various countries:

How pointy your boots could be

Whether you could wear Calico The French banned it because the Silk industry were outraged that people could buy soft, printed cloth from India that was washable and hard wearing, and stopped buying silk.

Whether you were paying your Sumptuary Taxes for owning nice clothes.

And of course last century; Were skirts too short, was your bathing costume enough coverage and Oh my god is that woman wearing pants‽

And of course currently: Making sure women don't have pockets.

Pretty sure there was some stuff regarding ruffs too but not in a mood to actually research a quick history shitpost...

#fashion police #shitpost (Historical flavour)

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silk-soft-india · 4 months ago

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Winter has arrived, and my cravings for hearty dishes like sarson da saag, makki di roti, and gajar ka halwa have kicked in. Chilly mornings are perfect for sipping hot tea, munching on snacks, and enjoying spicy foods. Winter foods, rich in antioxidants and antimicrobial properties, help boost immunity and improve digestion, making it the best time to strengthen your health with fresh fruits and vegetables.

#silk soft #silk soft india #skin care #health & fitness #personal care #good health #winter care #winter #winter food

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alwaysonthemend · 8 months ago

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Part V: Troubled Waters

Part IV

Authors Note: This chapter contains heavy, mature content. Please see warnings below before continuing.

Warnings: violence / / prostitution / slight gore / creepy creatures / lust spells (detailed)* / revenge killing / 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI

*Reader is taken under the influence of a siren – detailed description of forced feelings of lust and desire. The reader does not get taken advantage of and his saved from this situation before it can progress.

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

March, 1717

The galleon had arrived that brisk March morning under the cover of a soft fog. It swept through the low, sandy expense into the port of Nassau. The people there paid no real notice of Queen Anne’s Revenge as she came into port – she was a familiar sight for the pirates that populated the island. Having made her journey to and fro so many times, hardly a single head turned towards her at all. Even as the captain, one Edward Thatch, descended upon the island with his crew falling in step behind him, not a single eye turned to them.

The latter wore an unusual mixture of clothing; some in silks from India, others in Arabian headgear, and some even in fabrics that hailed from Africa. A lively bunch they all were – cursing and whooping as they entered the town of Nassau, no doubt excited for the promise of a night of revelry in the pubs nearby. They’d been at ship for some six months and they were more than ready to take some reprieve amongst the locals.

Though it must be said that Thatch was of a different sort this day. In fact, he seemed so far removed from the rest of his crew that a passerby might not even guess him to be their captain. As the merry band of pirates dispersed themselves throughout the town, Thatch made his way slowly to one of the bars off on the edge of town – not as popular as some of the others and a good place to go and think. There is much he had to think about. He’s grown bored of his current predicament as of late and wants desperately to move on to bigger and better things… namely, he wants to secure a fortune for himself. Though his run as a pirate captain has thus far been more than successful – scarcely coming across a merchant ship that can outsail or outgun him, not a single one has been carrying the fortune that he wants. He’s got his eye set on a new prize but Queen Anne’s Revenge is ill-equipped for his plan. He needs a smaller, faster ship to call his own that is not so recognizable as this one. She’ll only draw attention to himself. With a smaller crew and smaller ship, his plan for fortune will surely be successful.

But that leaves the question of what to do with Queen Anne’s Revenge. In a way, he supposes he’s gone sentimental in that he cannot bear to just let her rot. And giving her to Steve Bonnet – his old partner in crime, would surely end no better than the last time he gave a ship and crew to the Gentleman Pirate. Bonnet isn’t cut out for captainry and Thatch would rather give her to someone worthy of her name. He’s got enough men to spare this new captain a solid crew. He’s just got to choose one.

And really…There's only one man who comes to mind.

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Jacob makes his way through the winding streets of Nassau with only one thought on his mind. He was relieved to be back ashore but was eager to find a new ship to call his home for the months-long journey back to Devon. He’d found wealth enough as a crewmate under Thatch that he was confident that Amanda’s parents would be more than willing to let him marry her. Before, he’d been nothing but a lowly sailor with hardly anything to his name. But now? He had more than enough to prove himself worthy of her.

The bar he found himself wandering into was a run-down, sorry excuse for one – even amongst the rickety buildings of Nassau it was still a sorry sight. But it was blessedly empty of any of his fellow crewmates. Joshua, Samuel, and Daniel had been rather put out when he’d said that he would not be joining them in their merry-making tonight. But one look from Joshua and his twin had sensed that Jacob wanted to be alone. So they’d let him wander off to this sorry excuse of a bar in order to relax his ever aching mind and heart.

As Jacob stepped through the threshold, intent on tucking himself away into a far corner, he was frustrated to find his captain sitting inside as well. Thatch looked up and caught his eye, immediately waving him over to have a seat. With no excuse to refuse, Jacob trudged his way across the floor and took a seat across from Thatch.

“Captain.” Jacob mumbles, sliding a chair out and taking a seat.

“Jacob. I was just about to send word to find you.”

Thatch pins him with a piercing look that makes Jacob want to look away. But he doesn’t, instead only raising a brow for Thatch to continue.

“I have a preposition for you…” Thatch began in that slow, taunting tone of his that makes Jacob’s blood boil. The man takes too much enjoyment in making drama where there needn’t be any. “I want to give you Queen Anne.”

That draws Jacob up short and shock overtakes his expression.

“What?”

Thatch nods with a smile.

“I’ve got another job lined up, you see. But Queen Anne draws too much attention… But I refuse to just leave her somewhere to rot.” He begins, twisting the ends of his long, black beard in his fingertips. “And there’s no one else I think is worthy enough to have her. You’re the best quartermaster I’ve ever had. You’re young. You’ve got ambition.” He inclines his head. “She’s yours, if you want her.”

Jacob remains silent, the words tumbling through his mind like fish sucked into a whirlpool. His own ship… Jacob had never wanted to stay in this life for long. Never planned on getting as far as he had to begin with. This had all been for her. To make enough money to convince her parents that he was worthy of her. And this… Having the Queen Anne could be his ticket back to Devon.

“What’s the catch?”

Thatch smiles, displaying a row of yellowed teeth.

“None. I’ll even lend you a few men to sail ‘er.” Thatch must sense Jacob’s doubt though for after a moment of thoughtful silence he continues. “I’m old enough to have seen all manner of types of people, boyo. Good ones ‘re hard to find.”

That’s the closest Jacob has ever heard Thatch get to complimenting anyone and a small, tiny ball of warmth thrums to life in Jacob’s chest. Pride. That’s what the feeling is. Praise from a man like Thatch - questionable as the man himself may be… somehow it feels good still to be noticed and praised for hard work in a world that usually doesn’t stop long enough to care.

“I’ll take her.”

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

“So he handed it over just like that?”

My voice sounds far too loud in the room after Joshua’s hushed story and I wince a little.

“Just like that. And by the end of the week Thatch had officially handed Queen Anne’s Revenge over to Jacob along with the handful of men you see here now.” Joshua looks down at his lap, a muscle in his jaw flickering. “The plan was to head straight back to Devon… to Amanda.”

“His wife?”

“Not yet. She… her family was well off. And we were nothing but poor sailors from the moors. Jacob wanted to marry her – and she wanted to marry him. But her parents…”

“So Jacob started…” I wave my hand, vaguely gesturing to the room around us, “all this to get money so they would let him marry her?”

Joshua nods once.

“And it was enough. When we returned, Jacob presented her father with what was basically the entirety of the wealth that Jacob had accumulated. And they were married that night.”

“I’m guessing that they don’t- they don’t live happily ever after?”

“No.” And the word carries so much grief with it that I feel as though I’ve trespassed into something that I never should have. But he continues on. “Not all of Thatch’s men were happy with his promotion. There- there was one man in particular who thought that he should have been the one chosen. And when Thatch made him stay behind, it was just adding salt into the wound.”

“Thomas Lowe.”

“Yes.” A heavy sigh. “He was a sick, angry man. And he- he decided that he would take Queen Anne for himself. But Jacob wouldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t back down.”

Dread, oily and black, begins to spread through my veins.

“What did he do?”

“He decided that the only way to convince Jacob to hand over the ship was to break him.”

“My God.”

“Jacob was the one who found her. And I-” He swallows, voice breaking, “And I was the one who found him. I’d never heard him scream like that. I doubt I ever will again. It was- it was barely even human.”

Joshua’s eyes close and he winces, as if the memory is so awful that it still brings him physical pain to remember.

“And so Jacob killed him?”

“He did. At least, we thought he did. Lowe had taken Queen Anne and some of the crew in the chaos that followed. And Jacob… He was like a dog with a bone. Those of us that were left… We stole this ship – no small feat, and made chase. And when we finally caught up, we sank the Queen Anne. We didn’t think there were any survivors. Apparently we were wrong.”

“And this- this thing that can grant a wish… the Captain is trying to find it before someone else does?”

“It’s the last bit of hope he has.”

“To try and bring her back?”

Joshua nods once – slow and somber. “He thinks that-” The door swings open, slamming into the wall and startling us both. The captain stands there, eyes blazing and nostrils flared. Joshua shrinks back, eyes casting downwards to the floor. “Jacob, I was just-”

“Telling a stranger my life story?” He interrupts coldly, sniffing once and giving his twin a cold grin. “That’s quite enough of that, I think. We’re heading to port.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s the last hospitable place to stop for supplies for a long while.”

“Shondell is hardly hospitable.” Joshua mumbles as he rises, brushing his palms across his trousers. The Captain’s facial expression doesn’t change, and Joshua shakes his head. “I’ll send Daniel and Sam to the shops, then."

“What about me?”

Both sets of chocolate eyes turn to me. The captain finally breaks his stony facade, grinning wickedly at me. “Welcome to Shondell, little lass.”

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Shondell was the sort of place that I never imagined myself ever stepping foot in. The stench was the first thing that hit my senses – the smell of fish and mud made my eyes water and coated the back of my throat as we walked through the crowded streets and into a tavern tucked away at the end of a cobbled street. Hair stood up on my arms, a shiver running down my spine as we stepped through the threshold.

Unfamiliar tunes strummed over lyres. Savory hints of pungent herbs and sauces covered the stench of sweat and unwashed clothing. Loud, raucous laughter rattled the wooden floorboards. The dim flicker of tallow candles was the only light to guide us as we walked through the crowded room, the captain in front of us, followed by Joshua and myself, and flanked by several of the crew that I didn’t know the names of. They eyed me warily – just as I did them, as if they thought I might try and make a break for it at any moment.

“This way.” Joshua warned, nudging me towards a far corner after my wandering eyes had made me stray a bit from the group. Jacob had sat himself at a large table in the far corner, the other seamen following him and taking a seat. Joshua sits next to me, caging me into the seats with his body.

“Out of the way. No one will pay you any attention over here.” One of the pirates says, cocking his brow at me as I warily take a seat, eyes still scanning the boisterous crowd.

“And what if they do?”

The crewman chuckled. “Hope they don’t. Cap’n will h’ve to spill blood. An’ he’s in his best coat.”

The other crew mates laugh while Jacob merely shrugs his shoulders, signaling for a barmaid. They were mocking me – apparently finding my unease amusing. Ignoring them, I turn my gaze back to the patrons. A woman – scantily clad and twirling a silky brown curl between her fingers, winks at Joshua as she passes us by.

“Fuckin’ hell.” One of the pirates mutters, eyeing the girls backside as she saunters away. “What a prize.”

“She wasn’t makin’ eyes at you.” Another pirate says – the one who’d been mocking me. “Eyein’ up our dear Joshua, h’re.”

“Well he’s on guard duty, in’ he?” The first pirate rises, stepping away from the group. “Permission t’ follow the prize, Cap’n?”

Jacob rolls his eyes but nods. “Aye. Just don’t be lingering. Or siring any littles tonight, Larson.”

Larson grins, bowing a little. “Don’ intend on lingerin’ or sirin; tonight, sir. Jus’ a little merry makin’ before hittin' the waters again.” With that, Larson scampers away in the direction of the woman.

“Thief.” Joshua grumbles under his breath, narrowing his eyes at Larson’s retreating form.

“Seems playing my captor has ruined your plans for bedmates.” I tell him in mock sympathy.

“Oh trust me, lass. If I want to take time to bed someone, I’ll do it – thoroughly…. And loudly.”

The captain and the other men groan at the wicked smirk and wink Joshua delivers, each of them muttering their disgust and protest.

As the ale is brought, conversation begins to flow but I tune them out, instead turning my attention towards the group of musicians playing in the corner. The one singing is a somber looking man, his tune warm and comforting. The pirates ignore me – Joshua and the captain, too, so I ignore them. Focused only on the delightful music, I allow myself to surrender fully to the sound.

The singer lifts his eyes as if sensing my intense gaze and grins. Seemingly gaining a touch of energy from my attention, he starts to sway his shoulders to the tune. Now that my focus is on him fully, he seems softer compared to the other men in this tavern. Strong features, a pronounced cupid's bow, and eyes as blue as the sea in the morning light.

“Stay here, yes?” Joshua asks, rising from his seat. I only nod, eyes never leaving the singer.

In my peripheral, I can see Joshua and Jacob make their way through the crowd and up to the bar, their steps in complete unison. As if my legs have a mind of their own, I start to rise – none of the other pirates at our table seem to notice as I slip away from them and towards the singer. As I draw closer, his smile widens.

“You are not from here, lady.” He says, stepping away from the other players and towards me.

“No.” I couldn’t recall a time I’d ever heard a voice as sweet as his, a smile so inviting. Every note of the music seemed to flow through my body, lighting my blood. His presence sends a thrum through me, a chill running down my spine and… and pooling between my thighs. God, I have to clench my thighs together as he watches me. He starts to sing his song again, his fingers plucking at the lyre with ease as he keeps watching me, still grinning.

Need throbs between my legs and I take a shaky breath, unable to tear my gaze away. I take a step closer to him, sighing softly to stop myself from moaning.

“Shit!” Hands clamp down over my ears and the singer stops his song, exclaiming in protest. I claw at the hands on me, desperate for him to continue.

“She hears my call.” The singer says, his words like a melody – a sensual, delicious melody that has my chest heaving, my skin boiling with desire.

“Lass, stop fighting me!” Joshua’s voice is in my ear, his hands pressing into my ears. I shove him away, part of my mind becoming aware that the other patrons have stopped in their revelry to watch the scene unfold. No one makes to intervene, instead seeming to be enjoying the spectacle.

The singer smiles and I nearly stumble when a rush of anguished want pulses through my core.

“Let her go, you bastard!” The captain’s voice cuts through the pulse in my ears, his frame coming into view as he strides towards my singer.

“It’s my right!” My singer says back, only adding to the harmony in my head. His eyes turn a darker shade, and for a moment, his face twists into something gaunt and sunken. “How about you mind your own business, pirate scum!”

“And how about I cut out your tongue!” Jacob yells, gripping my singer’s collar and pulling him in close, baring his teeth in a feral snarl.

“No!” I cry out, trying to step between the two but Joshua grabs my arms, twisting them behind my back. “Don’t!”

The Captain spares me no glance and before I can even realize what’s happening, the glint of a blade catches my eye moments before it sinks into the belly of my singer. Sorrow, all encompassing, engulfs me as my singer cries out, his legs buckling. The captain holds him up, stopping him from falling completely as he slips the small dagger free. I hadn’t even seen him draw it out. And then the blade is plunging into my singer’s heart and his face – once beautiful and young now cracking into something else. Sharp cheekbones, cracked skin, rotted teeth. And then Jacob drops him, his body crumpling in a heap on the wooden floor.

My gaze then goes from the horrid creature on the floor to the captain. Joshua’s grip tightens on my arms as the heat in my blood seems to suddenly boil over. The want that was once there for the singer now multiplied tenfold as I watched the captain.

“Jacob.” His name rolls off my tongue like a prayer. His name is beautiful – more beautiful even than the song in my head.

The captain and Joshua both swear. “To the ship.” Jacob orders and then I’m being dragged away, the eyes of the other patrons following us as we go.

My vision waivers, feet blindly following where Joshua leads me. My eyes can’t seem to focus on anything at all, my mind only vaguely aware as the solid ground beneath my feet gives way to the swaying floorboards of the Starcatcher. A gruff “Let me take her” enters my ears and then a bed is beneath me, the lights dimming to a warm glow.

“Jacob? What-?” I can’t finish, my tongue feeling heavy and clumsy in my mouth.

“He was a siren.” The captain answers, lifting my feet and tugging off my boots.

My skin is overheated – sweat gathering on my brow and my breaths coming out in short pants. I feel as if I might combust if the pressure across my body isn’t relieved soon. Before I can stop, my hand slides over my belly, reaching beneath the waist of my trousers for the ache between my thighs.

A hand slaps over my wrist, guiding my hand away.

“Please.” I whimper, gripping his wrists back and trying to tug him closer to me. “Captain, please.”

“Y/n.” I moan at the sound of my name on his tongue but Jacob pulls his wrists away. “This is not you. The feeling will fade.”

“Don’t you want me?” I hardly recognize my voice but I can’t stop the words as they spill from my lips. My legs spread, hips rolling into the empty air and towards him.

“Sirens have a lure in their voice. Their songs bring lust to their victims – to take them away where they can have their way with them, either for pleasure or for food. You don’t-”

I cut him off with my lips, tugging him downwards on top of me. For a brief, beautiful moment, the captain kisses me back and then he’s shoving himself away, gripping my wrists in his and pinning them on top of my chest.

“Y/n, stop.” He demands, his harsh tone slicing me to my very core. As if sensing the hurt, he softens. “This feeling will pass, little love.”

“You don’t want me.” I lament, eyes misting with tears.

“I would have to be a fool to not want you.” He answers, rising from the bed. “You do not want me. This feeling will pass.”

His voice is distant, almost as if I am underwater. Another person looms in the doorway, but my eyes cannot make out their face. He speaks to the captain for a brief moment, glancing at me a few times before leaving the room again. In Jacob’s hand is a cup. He curls his hand around the back of my head. “Drink this.”

I shake my head, pursing my lips. Jacob sighs, then softly, “For me? Drink this for me?”

I take the cup to my lips, forcing myself to swallow the thick liquid, the taste of charred meat covering my tongue. I choke and sputter but then my eyes begin to grow heavy and the throbbing need between my thighs eases. The song in my mind – once deafening, begins to softly fade. The captain lays me back down, pulling the mussed quilts over me.

“Sleep, little love.”

Then, I fall into syrupy black.

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

fin

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astrophilic-soul · 1 year ago

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Indchu Headcanons

Thank you sm to the anon that asked me! I sadly lost your ask but I hope you like these :3

India shows his love in a very physical way, through hugs, kisses and such while China shows it more through gifts and quality time.

Both cultures have traditions with hair, and I feel like- to them- hair is something they would only allow those they love and trust to touch. So, China would let India braid his hair and India would let him oil it.

Some hobbies and interests they would share: gardening, cooking, sewing, music

They 100% gossip, they literally know everyone’s shit. They have tea/coffee at each other’s houses and just talk shit the whole time <3

I think they know each other’s mythology/legends/cultures really well because they told eachother during their journeys together on the Silk Road! Two young and lonely immortals who’d inhabited the earth for far longer than many ever would, talking about their people as they traversed the land and slept under the stars.

I don’t necessarily think India and China were exclusive to each other in the past- especially because they didn’t have a constant string of communication. And maybe even now, I just think as older nations- they would have a hard time with monogamy. But I do think of their relationship is kinda like waves, it comes and goes- but they’re always home to each other in a way.

I very much categorize them as an old couple. They slow dance to songs on a radio while it’s raining outside. They hold each other, tracing over scars mindlessly, the story of each- known by heart. They don’t even say I love you anymore, they just know it.

And I think in a way, their relationship in modern day would be a kinda depressing. They’re finally able to focus on each other, not focused on trying to keep stability- not knowing if their kingdom would fall the next day. Far better and constant communication than the past. They’re stable nations now and yet- they’re enemies. They might not give a shit and continue anyway, but it definitely has affected their relationship. It started honey sweet and has since soured. They have their soft moments and yet- their government’s relationship with each other and the events that have transpired are a fresh wound- not one fully healed.

If one of them ever fell, the other would be utterly devastated. They’re a constant to each other in a world full of things that are temporary. Thousands of years, always knowing their other half was out there- somewhere even when they’re not together. With them gone? It would be like untying the anchor from the boat, there’s no one else- nothing left.

#I hope you like it anon! some thoughts I had about them :3 #I didn’t make it too historical bec you asked for hcs but I’ll prolly make a post on it later :3 #indchu #aph india #aph china #hws india #hws china #hetalia #other hetalia stuff #hetalia headcanons #my takes

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thepannashop · 11 months ago

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iraahstore2323 · 10 months ago

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indignantlemur · 1 year ago

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My dear Indi, I need your expertise !

Do you have any ideas or headcanons for Andorian outfits, from lighter to warmer? What would they look like in general, what texture is most appreciated or considered fashionable ?

Thanks ! 💙

Hello Zier! Let's see what I can do for you! Fair warning, this one is going to be image-heavy.

For the most part, Andorian fashion in my headcanons isn't unified. Different folks prefer to wear different things, same as Humans, but there are broader elements that are quite common.

Firstly, we know from ENT and subsequent appearances in the modern Treks that Andorians tend to wear a lot of leather, often embossed or tooled to have a particular sort of feel. The samples below from Discovery give me powerful 2009-2013 Gareth Pugh vibes.

Beyond that, the only other time we see Andorians is when they're in Imperial Guard or Starfleet uniforms, which mostly just gives an overall impression of leather, suede, and future-kevlar.

The Andorian ambassador in "Terra Prime" had a very different feel from these, of course, and that shiny outer robe ultimately inspired Thoris' official get-up.

By contrast, some super early screen tests and comic book depictions for everyday Andorians look rather different, however. We've got draping fabrics, robes, tunics, some thigh high boots, and what looks like bits of armoured studding and chainmail. That's quite the departure from the other depictions!

And then, of course, we have Shran's post-Imperial Guard coat. This one gets its own mention, because that coat is fabulous.

Honestly, this isn't a lot to work with. It's better than nothing, of course, but the different depictions feel very disjointed and all over the place. There's no sense of unity in the designs across the board.

So, from there I looked to real-world fashion to help me build a better idea of what I wanted my Andorians to actually look like outside of a uniform. As much as their depictions would lead us to believe that Andorians have an oddly prevalent leather kink, that's really not practical. Leather is a useful material, and certainly a heavily carnivorous population would end up with quite a lot of it, but surely that can't be everything they wear. So, I started looking around for things that felt like they fit the vague aesthetic we were given to work with.

Below are some samples from the ungodly huge pinterest board I keep for ideas and references for Andorian fashion. I think these mostly hit all the key notes for my headcanons.

A lot of these images are very bland in terms of colour, particularly by Andorian standards, but I think you should be able to see what I've drawn inspiration from.

What I ended up with was a combination of future-fashion elements, and influences from places like Japan and India - with a heavy slant towards using leather, silk, velvet and occasionally soft, drapey fabrics. Heavy ornamentation, such as embroidery, is very common but lacework on clothing is actually quite unusual. Andorians tend to find it catches on their chitin and tears too often to be worth the fuss.

In particular, I really like the idea of layers, off-set or asymmetrical necklines, and elements of structural/architectural fashion for Andorians. Tooled leather is very popular, as well.

Another detail about Andorian fashion that I've mentioned a few times in other posts is that they like to show off their chitin patterns. Often this is done using leather as the medium, but embroidery is also a perfectly acceptable option. Often times, these articles of clothing (usually outerwear but not always) will have a Clan sigil somewhere on it as well, but it's not at all a requirement. These practices accomplish a couple of different things:

Firstly, it offers prospective playmates a tantalising 'preview' of what's underneath. Andorians are not shy about these things, nor do they understand why aliens think they should be. Some Andorians find particular types of chitin patterns very attractive, while some are averse to partners with what they perceive to be too much or too little chitin - or worse, chitin patterns that are far too similar to their own, which would suggest a shared lineage somewhere.

Secondly, it shows off Clan affiliations, especially for Clan members who were not born with their Clan's 'typical' chitin pattern. (Married individuals will often wear things that show their affiliation to both their birth Clan and their marriage Clan, as well, though these are usually ornamental items such as jewellery or hair pieces.)

Thirdly, wearing one's Clan affiliations stamped on their sleeves can sometimes serve as a conflict deterrent. Some Clans are just not worth picking a fight with, and knowing who's who ahead of time instead of after someone says something spectacularly stupid tends to save lives. Since the Unification, the need for these sorts of deterrents has dropped substantially, but it's never entirely gone from Andorian society.

This is not to say that I imagine that all Andorians wear the same things. Being able to express individual preferences is very important, especially in a society where most other individualistic pursuits are seen as counter-productive to the harmony and unity of a community.

Shral, for example, deviates from the norm by preferring dark colours and minimal ornamentation. To other Andorians, his sartorial choices are almost conspicuously bland. On the other end of the spectrum, Thelen adores vivid colours - neon oranges, shocking yellows, acid greens - and fully embraces the bombastic colour palettes his people are known for. Thoris is doomed to be trapped in billowing robes he'd much rather burn in a steel drum behind the embassy under cover of darkness, but he prefers layered tunics, boots, and breeches that don't inhibit his movement. Vrath is in the middle of the road, favouring bold colours and practical clothing but never quite able to resist bits of ornamentation that give her wealthy Tha'an Clan allegiance away. Miraal, on the other hand, adore soft, draping fabrics and wears very little leather, or any other similarly heavy materials, and she prefers to wear minimal ornamentation so as not to distract from her wares.

In terms of seasonal clothing, Andorians can tolerate very broad rangers of temperatures, and they have thermal regulators built into much of their clothing. They can get away with quite a lot, in terms of weather, but a heavily cultivated sense of caution generally prevents them from wandering out into surface conditions wearing anything less than full winter gear - though, naturally, their idea of full winter gear is rather lighter than what a Human would go in for. In extreme heat, Andorians have no problem wearing as little as possible - often to the consternation of other species who do not share their total lack of nudity taboos.

Regarding colours, I headcanon that much like how Vulcans view green as a traditional mating colour owing to the hue of their blood, and Humans view red much the same way, so too do Andorians with the colour blue. Just wearing blue alone isn't an invitation for anything, but it is very noticeable and considered a very attractive colour. Wearing a particularly fetching shade of blue while lurking in a bar and being very noticeably single, however...

Andorian silk is a luxury item, and one in high demand. Made from cocoons harvested from a domesticated relative of the infamous Andorian ice borers, it's ten times stronger than Terran silk, rendering it resistant to slashing and piercing damage. It can be woven into heavy brocades or crafted into a diaphanous, organza-like material, or blended with other fibres. It almost always has a slight iridescent or even metallic shine to it, a highly coveted property, and it is ludicrously expensive.

Hope this helps! <3

#star trek #andorian #andorians #emigre by indignantlemur #headcanon #Andorian fashion and fabrics #Andorian fashion #Andorian silk

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