#going to hell bye | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeyinde · 1 year ago

Note

touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)

by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.

DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.

idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.

It's survival.

At first.

A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached.

Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter.

Nothing else, except—

He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling.

He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—

Mesmerising.

Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.

(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)

He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—

Ever.

And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have.

Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along.

Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars.

(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”

and he—

he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—

he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid?

slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella.

in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness.

you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”

and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest.

“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”

his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)

And now—

Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.

Protection, he calls it.

("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.")

You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is.

Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—

It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him.

Vile man. Awful.

(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)

This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore.

(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)

Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—

Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second.

Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed.

(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)

Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat.

It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl.

You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape.

You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums.

“Need somethin', pet?”

Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir—”

Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up.

You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning.

“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”

Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste.

It's gross. Disgusting.

It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—

He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—

(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)

You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony.

Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary.

“S–sir—?”

He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems.

You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”

You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue.

Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains.

Uprooted, turned into something new—

His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable.

(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)

“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”

You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it.

“I need—I need you.”

Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”

He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”

Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him.

Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins.

Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—

He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—

just like he says.

As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems.

Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.

His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing.

And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.

You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee.

Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting.

There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—

Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him.

He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.

“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting.

There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand.

He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.

Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—

“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”

It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—

He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much.

you don't want him to stop.

His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.

He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more

The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm.

It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand.

He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—

But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains.

“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.”

“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”

Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—

You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave.

“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.”

You burn, blister. “Please—”

“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?”

Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves.

“Simon—”

“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.”

“No, no, no—! I'm—”

“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes.

“Please, sir—”

“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”

The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart.

He knows you. Every part—

“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—”

It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it.

He hides his need under a layer of derision.

“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?”

His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand.

“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”

Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”

His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin.

He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”

Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self.

But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside.

There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin.

Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—

Full.

Mangled.

Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot.

He's—

Pretty.

Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—

You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—

You kiss him.

Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—

Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally.

And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.

Because you need him, don't you?

Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—

(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)

—it’s all so divine.

His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—

And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him.

Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive.

It coils around you. Thick, smothering.

He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—

He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour.

But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—

“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”

“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”

The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric.

“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide.

Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.

His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.

You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort.

After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out.

His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast.

He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette.

“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”

You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore.

Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor.

“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”

Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.”

You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest.

His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”

“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”

“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”

There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—

Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china.

Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.

This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—

“Gonna be my good little wife?”

Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—

His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—

“Not gonna run?”

Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing.

How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad.

Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”

And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss.

His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his.

It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep.

It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in.

Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.

It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—

Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.

When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—

Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”

—and you swallow it down with a moan.

(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)

#when your kidnapper is mean and rude as hell but you've been dtf since day one: the manifesto #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #i forget where i put peoples hands sometimes and then have to go back and remind myself where everyone's at lmao #hope you enjoyedddddddddddd #i'm gonna go pour myself a glass of bleach bye #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghostdrabbles

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voidshrub · 11 months ago

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"Follow me!"

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todayisafridaynight · 1 year ago

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#rgg #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza series #ryu ga gotoku 7 #yakuza like a dragon #yakuza 7 #ichiban kasuga #crossover #shadow the hedgehog #why the hell do i alre. oh i know why LMAO #snap sketches #me when sega finally gives me an excuse to shadow post THEY GAVE HIM A LIL ALOHA OUTFIT #everyone posting their cool as hell angel of darkness art and here i am …… hello …#he an ichi match........ nothing but love in my heart as of late lifes beautiful ...#i was already shadow doodling but now i can finally shadow post ........... AND WITH ICHIBAN #so funny too cause when i got my ichi watch i thought that the red and gold reminded me of shadow ... heh .....#expanding my rgg friend list for shadow it got ichi and haruka and daigo on there … who next …#i love drawing i love doing whatever i want #like going to bed. or something idk bye

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beeduoo · 5 months ago

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i really like that one tiktok

#Hi guys its me Beeduoo on tumblr #alliumduo #cranboo #ctommy #i actually saw the tiktok on youtube shorts first im an unironic youtube shorts user😭😭#I IMMEDIATLEY THOUGHT OF THEM TOO Dream smp you will never leave my mind #Sorry i was gone for like twenty years i got really into aphmau for like the fourth time in my life I'm rewatching mystreet in school with #my friend Chronologically its going awesom we're on Llp Bro pdh was Insane #I FW EIN AND KAI IDGAF idk WHAT THE HELL EIN DOES later but i still like him AND KAI WAS A VICTIM OF BAD WRITING OMFGG IT MAKES ME SO MAD #That migbt be a hot take idk i only ever see Hate for them but like Kai especially i feel like jess just wrote them to be Stupid and weird #out of nowhere just to give aph a reason to go back to aaron the date thing WAS SO STUPID ok sorry for the side tangent #that was part of it but its mainly im just a Senior im Eighteen years old now and it sucksss when u get to this age i didnt draw for MOTNHS #in general bc of college apps all of that ughhh so ANNOYING imma be real im not even done yet i still have to do fafsa scholarships oh my #Damn god I STILL LOVE MY FAVS i would like to draw More again thank u i Love tumblr love these Tags i love to talk bye

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bizarrelittlemew · 2 years ago

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Finally gaining approval and popularity in a world you always craved being a part of vs. watching the other person enjoying the very thing you're trying to escape

One difference:

#i honestly think stede stays quietly behind because he thinks he doesn't deserve better than to be ridiculed and ignored #while ed leaves before things go to shit because he's 1) panicking and 2) can't allow himself to be loved for real yet #meaning he can't step in like stede did when things start going wrong (but i wonder if the fight with zheng would've happened if he stayed)#this has been bouncing around in my head since thursday but i've never struggled more with a gifset lmao #these were hell to color and i gave up making this coherent bye #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmdedit #ofmdsource #ofmd gifs #ida.stuff #ofmd 2x7 #ofmd s2 #edward teach #stede bonnet

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blueskittlesart · 4 days ago

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I FINALLY BEAT THAT STUPID FUCKING DEERS ASS. HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWFUL

#toby can we PLEASEEEEE go back to spamton neo difficulty levels i cannot do this anymoreeeeee #deltarune spoilers #<kinda #personal #edit: I FORGOT ABOUT THE FUCKING EGG. BYE #sighhhh whatever i can’t actually figure out where the hell i was supposed to put it but it’s gone forever now i am not doing that again

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handercover · 4 months ago

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Guess I'll go to hell or sleep

#I will die for Yarnaby but Sawyer can go to hell k bye #yarnaby #harley sawyer #idk how to draw this man

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mvrdermeharder · 6 months ago

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EVIL BOYFRIENDS

naaaaah had to redownload this app for 2 seconds to say this bc HUHHHHHH?!??!?

i love them sm tho they’re so toxic

#and mf yukki #WDYM #HE’S A CANCER CELL??????????#WHAT #i’m living for the drama tho ngl #mm i can already taste the long awaited character development for ness #and now that i’m done yapping #back to the depths of college i go bye bye tumblr #(yall better pray for me bc i still haven’t studied shit)#(i’ve started writing a fanfic tho so hell yea procrastination🔥🔥)#blue lock #bllk #alexis ness #isagi yoichi #michael kaiser #kaisagi #kiis #isakai #iski

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xxplastic-cubexx · 1 month ago

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jumpscared on the way to the park CAN I HELP YOU

#snap chats #cant tell if this is a really obtuse hate sticker or not but if it is ill take this down #NO CAUSE WHO THE HELL IS PUTTING CHARLES ON STICKERS GO AWAY thats MY character only five of us like !!!!#ANYWAY DIWNSK???#whats funy is that lit moments before i saw this i was thinkin real hard bout how bad i want charles xavier #LO AND BEHOLD.. i hard stopped walking with my dad just to snap this fnAPDNSKSK #so funny… hey old man whats up ‘resist’ resist what idk but whatever you say #anyway drinking with my dad bye bye just wanted to share funny old man jumpscare #manifested him by accident i think…

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grandlinedreams · 2 years ago

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|| i have nothing to say for myself other than toei has a thing for Law's hands and so do I

[!]: MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

[Heads up!: fingering (reader recieving), edging, overstim, afab/fem aligned reader, termed genitals]

"Like my hands that much, do you?" Law's voice is low in your ear, as sultry as you've ever heard it and more than a little cocky. As he should be, given that the fingers you'd been eyeing not so subtly earlier are currently between your legs.

Thumb at your clit, e and a sink into your slick warmth, making you whine as he works them within you. Sharp gold eyes remain trained on your facial expressions, studying what makes your face contort with pleasure and the prettiest noises slip from your lips.

The noise of his fingers pumping in and out of you is enough to make your face burn, much less the intensity to this act as a whole ㅡ Law intends to take you apart to the very core of your being, and you'll let him.

The press of his thumb to the swollen bundle of nerves rips a stuttered cry from your lips as he works it in tight circles, coupling it with the slow scissor of his fingers.

"Is that all it takes?" Even your ears burn at his teasing, the slowing of his ministrations making you whine. It's like a game to him, the seesaw taunt of your orgasm so close, yet so far away as he makes you toe that razor thin line.

Your breathing is shallow as he almost stills his hand, lets the heat lower to a simmer before he picks his rhythm back up, watches as pleasure ignites in your veins once more.

Your thighs tremble around his hand, and you're sure you've already soaked it for how badly you ache with want ㅡ and he still won't give it to you. Or perhaps he will this time as you edge further and further, and this time, he doesn't stop when you start tensing around his fingers.

Law watches you cum around his fingers with an almost clinical contemplation, ruined for the blown quality of his pupils as he follows the jerk of your hips, the incomprehensible babble that tumbles from your lips.

He kisses your temple as he lets you come down, and you expect him to pull his fingers from you and move to clean you up, or continue this another way ㅡ but he doesn't. His eyes gleam as he begins moving his fingers again, and you whimper at his touch.

"Come on," he soothes softly, voice silky against your frazzled nerves, "you can give me another, can't you?"

#ㅡmine.#one piece scenario #one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #i'm going to hell for this i just know i am bye

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luceafarul-de-dimineata · 7 months ago

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Minhyeok's possession

Pairing: Asmodeus x Minhyeok x Mc

Summary: Minhyeok has 20 different awakenings in the span of 5 minutes.

You know the drill, they/them Afab reader. This was writen before the official release of Asmodeus and I haven't yet read any of his story.

You had heard a lot about Abaddon before even thinking about setting foot in the region. It's a prison, a freak show, the place where neither devils nor angels want to find themselves in. But it didn't matter. You had a job to do and a regions bad reputation wasn't going to detere you from helping Hell win the war.

The first thing that you realised about Abaddon was that consent isn't a veriable. Perhaps its a bit your fault for disregarding everyone's advice and coming alone in a foreign country, but that didn't give the devils the right to grope you when you weren't looking. Your salvation came in the form of the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Asmodeus heard a lot about the decendent of Solomon walking around hell, so of course he needed a piece of you, just like everyone else.

The second thing that you realised about Abaddon was that ignoring the unwanted advances, everyone was a romantic. Every other line of Asmodeus was a flirty remark or a tease, but that didn't stop at Asmodeus alone. Your first meeting with Ronové, for exemple, involved getting your hand kissed while he made prolongued eye contact with you... you think, the mask made it hard to tell. Even Dantalian tryed to invite you to sneak in Heaven before Asmodeus glared him down. But nobody could compete with the king himself.

He took you to a private dinner that was fancy enough to fit your outfit. Even though you liked the casual atmosphere of the pub in Gehenna and the grandious golden dinners of Tartaros, the quiet and intimate atmosphere of Abaddon, combined with the smitten sanguine eyes of the devil in front of you must have been your favorite.

Everything was straight out of a movie and you don't even flinch when Asmodeus takes you to bed with him. You were ready to pay him back the only way you probably could, but you were surprised when he just cuddled close to you.

You wanted to question him, but deep down, you did enjoy the feeling of just snuggling with someone in bed, you've been missing it since... well since you went to hell. Asmodeus must have known, must have felt your desire for cuddles and he, as the generous devil that he is, took care of your wants.

The next morning, you woke up clinging to Asmodeus, his black hair cascading on your face and tickling you awake. It was such a familiar atmosphere that the name of your childhood best friend turned roomate escaped your lips. Asmodeus must have taken notice of your longing for a certain human man and fortunatly enough for him, he had the perfect opening to act.

In the human world, Minhyeok was getting desprate. He already crossed so many of his self impossed limitations. He had a rule he would never watch pornography, but there was this actress that looked just like you and he missed you so much! He promised to never jerk it to someone else, but he did, multiple times. It was starting to effect every part of his life. When he talks with Ppyong about your whereabouts and the little devil mentions you're with the king of lust, he almost explodes with jealousy.

He knows it's a bad idea as he's doing it. But humans don't think rationally when there's stakes like your potential lover on the line. Minhyeok decides to summon the bastard. He doesn't really have a plan, desire being the only thing guiding his actions. Before he even knew it, the king was right infront of him, grinning.

Lust reaked in the air even before Asmodeus made his grand appearance. After all, he was the only demon allowed to travel so freely from a realm to another, and it was all thanks to horny boys like the one in front of him. While he wasn't a believer, maybe fate had a hand to play in all of this.

Minhyeok stared in awe and fascination at the gorgeous demon before him. Asmodeus lifted Minhyeok's chin so their eyes could meet before starting to stroke his face affectionatly. Humans... such simple creatures. They think themselves up as gods and intelectuals, but some stroking and praise can make anything bow before him.

"Why did you summon me, Minhyeok, dear?"

Asmodeus' voice was a silky poison, a lullaby dragging you to your death, but the ride was too enjoyable to mind.

"I'll give anything... for one hour of love..."

Inspite of his want to appear strong and intimidating, Minhyeok sounded more like a horny teenager. It wasn't the image he wanted to display to his supposate rival, but it was all he could muster. The hypnotic beauty of the man in front of him almost made him forget about you entirely... almost.

"Such strong desires from a man like yourself. How about we make a deal? I'll help you get them under you, if you do everything I tell you. Just follow my lead and you'll have them beneath you begging for more."

Asmodeus was twirling Minhyeok's hair before leaning closer, their lips not even an inch apart. Perhaps it was an old mamalian instict, but, even without asking, Minhyeok knew how to seal the deal.

The kiss was short but passionate, filled with a familiar carnal desire. He man closed his eyes and embraced the demon, but when he opened them again, he was on top of you. You looked breathless and flustered, but he was more confused than anything. At a closer inspection, both of you were naked in a large dovet bed. He tried to move away, but he felt a strong pair of arms caging him in. The same venomous voice filled his mind once more.

"Put your hand on their breasts and grope them, tease them a bit longer, they love it. Just like this."

The man felt ghostly cold hands start to play with his erect nipples and, in tandem, his hands did the same to you.

You felt dazed with pleasure. You must be hallucinating, there's no way the somewhat shy Minhyeok was now teasing you like a porn star. Your memory is hazy, remembering just the breakfast with the Abaddon king and then... being woken up by your childhood best friend kissing you passionatly. It's not like you could complain, whenever you opened your mouth, only sounds of pleasure would come out.

"That's a good boy~"

Minhyeok whimpered at the praise and let his body be moved by the demon. He gave you a hickey, but he felt the bite and more on the same spot of his neck.

"Look at you, all excited and eager. For how long have you been waiting for me to do this to you? Tsk, such an impatient pet. I'll need to train you better in the future. What if we go out to a party and you wet yourself like this?"

Minhyeok spoke without even realising. Asmodeus loved messing with humans like this. The way they parroted whatever he told them was adorable, like getting a dog to bark on command. Dump creatures, yet so adorable. His favorite little specimens.

Asmodeus parted Minhyeok's legs, who followed suit and parted yours as well. First, a finger snakes its way inside each of the humans' holes. You never knew just how good Minhyeok was at finding your G-spot, and you'll never know how he managed to find it, guided by Asmodeus' own actions on the man's body.

A second finger followed and then a third, not for either of your enjoyment, but for Asmodeus' convenience. With a particularly brutal thrust of the digits, you cum, creaming on Minhyeok's large palm. He stared at it, unmoving for a moment as Asmodeus cackled in the background before he brought his fingers to his mouth and kitten licked them.

"Go on, Minhyeok, my boy! Shove those in your throat, trully taste her desire for you. That's right... all for you."

And so he dead, slurping messily on the three fingers, like a beast sucking the blood of its victim. The display didn't take long, but there was certainly something erotic about it.

Once Asmodeus gets bored of the forplay, he puts his real plan into fruition. His demotic, ever shifting shaft slowly enters Minhyeok from behind, resulting in him penetrating you missionary style. Every filthy comment whispered in Minhyeok's ear by the demon made its way to you, through his familiar and nostalgic voice. Every thrust into Minhyeok was a thrust into you. Without either of your knowledge, both of your bodies where only ever serving the king of lust himself.

Layed on top of you and humping like a dog in heat, Minhyeok felt like he was in heaven. His crush, roomate, bestfriend, future wife, was right under him, moaning his name, screaming, cuming for him! HIM! Only him. It was all he ever wanted.

You weren't much better either. The pleasure was intense, like you were high on aphrodisiacs, but this whole scenario of getting roughly fucked by your best friend felt like a wet dream come true. You both had cummed god knows how many times, and, inspite of your bodies protests, you continued to stay awake a tad longer.

But even the strongest human bodies have limits and Asmodeus realised that he had fucked both of you past the point of going limp. Exhausted was a cheritable expression to describe the two humans layed in front of him. They served their purpose well and Asmodeus got his end of the deal, so he decided to take the man back to where he belonged.

"Sleep well, children... you did well, I'm proud of you~"

He kissed both of their forheads and tugged them in their respective beds.

Minhyeok can't get out of bed the next morning. He can barely even remember what happened. It must have been a dream, there's no other way. Yet your moans still ring in his ear, like a catchy song you listened to on repeat, the taste of your essance still lingers on his tongue and the bruises and hickeys tell a different story, one that he wished was true. He couldn't move, but neither did he really want to. He felt fulfilled for the time being.

You wake up with soft pounding in your head and... other regions, but when you tiredly search for Minhyeok, he's nowhere to be seen, just Asmodeus holding your head on his barely covered crotch and playing with your hair. You felt like the cat on a villan's lap, but it was a conforting one. You try to mumble something, but your tongue feels heavy and the gentle touches diswayed you from questioning things any further. You just lay in blissful peace on the lap of your doomer...

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb asmodeus #whb minhyeok #whb x reader #whb smut #you know what #fuck it #i've had this fic in my drafts for almost 6 months now #tell me if my writing is still holding up after all this time #the name's a really bad pun I came up with right now #going to sleep bye

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eternalstateofoctober · 10 months ago

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— 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔦 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔟𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 | AMC’s IWTV

also known as ”local woman is roused to learn editing to deliver everyone this fandom classic” (the video's synced better on desktop)

transcription/video description under the cut:

[video description: a fan video/edit of amc’s ”interview with the vampire” by tumblr user @eternalstateofoctober (me!!) set to a shortened version of lenka’s ”everything at once”. the video clips are cut to the rhythm of the song and its changing lyrics. the song is catchy and upbeat with a light, bouncy rhythm and a whimsical but also slightly melancholic vibe at times. it has a steady beat with repeating piano notes and some xylophone. the video clips are muted so only the song is playing, save for a few voiceover lines and sound effects.

(instrumental intro, repeating piano notes)

the théâtre des vampires orchestra starts playing and another member checks the projector. a watermark with the username @eternalstateofoctober flashes on screen and disappears at the same time as a projector light flickers.

🎵 as sly as a fox 🎵

two clips of daniel after the trial script reveal. first he tosses the script to louis, then he pushes his glasses up and casts a hard look at an off-screen armand.

🎵 as strong as an ox 🎵

armand uses the mind gift to make the coven fall asleep at the dinner table in 2x04, voiceover of him yelling ”enough!” angrily and banging the table. table settings clattering. then lestat using the mind gift at the trial to manipulate louis’ sentence. his left ear starts bleeding. VO lestat: ”banishment...”

🎵 as fast as a hare 🎵

louis sprints at daniel in ’73, making him stumble back.

🎵 as brave as a bear 🎵

clips of young daniel being tortured by armand. first he lifts his gaze, then there’s two clips of him being slammed down by armands powers. last clip is him closing his eyes while armand holds his face. VO of daniel’s grunts and whimpers.

🎵 as free as a bird 🎵

claudia on stage as baby lu mimes opening a window made of projections happily.

🎵 as neat as a word 🎵

claudia writes in her diary in season 1, the clip has a double exposure effect with her pen moving on the page.

🎵 as quiet as a mouse 🎵

a wide shot of the sewers the children of darkness inhabit.

🎵 as big as a house 🎵

establishing shot of the théâtre des vampires building. suddenly the screen flashes black and there’s a quick flickering shot of the talamasca logo on daniel’s laptop screen and a glitching sound effect.

🎵 as mean as a wolf 🎵

close-up of santiago on stage in 2x02, he looks right at the audience seductively.

🎵 as sharp as a tooth 🎵

shots of the vamps baring their fangs. lestat ripping the priests throat out in 1x01, claudia in madeleine’s shop, louis in ’73 showing off to daniel, armand hissing at lestat in 2x03.

🎵 as deep as a bite 🎵

extreme close-up of lestat biting louis at the altar.

🎵 as dark as the night 🎵

madeleine lights a candle that illuminates her face during a power outage. she’s watched from outside her shop window by a curious claudia.

🎵 as sweet as a song 🎵

young daniel embraces armand after armand has manipulated him to accept death. armand strokes his hair and there’s armand’s calm whisper as a voiceover: ”i’ll hold you…”

🎵 as right as a wrong 🎵

claudia’s real turning. lestat looks up from an off-screen louis who’s begging on his knees. in the second clip he’s kneeling next to claudia on the floor and lifting her upper body while louis’ back is still turned to them.

🎵 as long as a road 🎵

louis’ finger taps a spot on a map in the warzone.

🎵 as ugly as a toad 🎵

the vampire bruce cocking his head.

🎵 as pretty as a picture, hanging from a fixture 🎵

lestat’s portrait hangs on the wall in the théâtre’s green room in 2x02, jumpcut to it in flames in 2x08.

🎵 strong like a family 🎵

the de pointe du lac and frenière families pose for a portrait at grace’s wedding. the clip changes to the next with the camera’s flash going off.

🎵 strong as i wanna be 🎵

VO Madeleine: ”mais j'ai survécu.” (”but i survived” in french). shots of madeleine’s past, the trial by mob. extreme close-up of her crying face, the angry crowd surrounding her, her screaming while her hair is shorn. the segment ends with her throwing an iron through her shop window where a group of locals has just painted a swastika. sound effect of glass shattering.

🎵 bright as day, as light as play 🎵

madeleine’s vision of claudia as she’s turned. claudia in a yellow dress in madeleine’s shop, smiling to the camera—at madeleine—and turning to the mirror. the whole scene basks in warm, bright afternoon light.

🎵 as hard as nails 🎵

grace looks up at a slightly off-screen louis in 1x05, a hard, difficult look. they are at louis’ fake grave at night and grace is holding a funeral bouquet.

🎵 as grand as a whale 🎵

two clips after one another. first is louis being buried alive in 2x07, a silent scream as the rocks rush to cover his face. second one is his feet stepping onto the rocks in the penthouse’s sundial room. VO old daniel: ”where’s your coffin?”

(the music quiets and slows down slightly for the next line.)

🎵 as warm as the sun 🎵

close-up of claudia burning in the sun at the trial. she is turning into ash but still looks at an off-screen lestat.

🎵 as silly as fun 🎵

several clips in rapid succession. murder family laughing at a movie theatre, them dancing together—holding hands, claudia cheering riding the sidecar of a motorcycle in paris during the théâtre’s group hunting, armand smirking wearing malek’s glasses, vamp daniel’s tv interview, him laughing at the host.

🎵 as cool as a tree 🎵

real rashid steps slightly forward, hands clasped behind his back with a neutral expression.

🎵 as scary as the sea 🎵

two clips of armand in ’73. first his eyes shake as he slams daniel down with his powers in the background, then him turning slowly—eyes wide—to face daniel that’s sitting in front of him.

🎵 as hot as fire 🎵

three clips showing fire in the show. first: daciana throwing herself into the flames, second: armand’s fire gift, him looking at a flame in his hand, third: the théâtre’s fire starting behind louis as he looks into claudia’s mirror backstage. the mirror reads ”tweedily deedily dead”.

🎵 cold as ice 🎵

louis cuts off santiago’s head, louis smirking, looking down. VO: louis’ satisfied chuckle.

🎵 sweet as sugar and everything nice 🎵

VO louis and old daniel: ”would you like a sample?” ”i’m a savory man most days.” with first a clip of armand-as-rashid’s blissful expression as louis drinks from him at the dinner table in 1x05, then three clips of sweet treats: the strawberry dessert from 1x02 being set in front of daniel, daniel taking a bite of it, then young daniel sipping his grasshopper at mary’s. the clip ends with old daniel’s hand pushing his coffee cup forward, requesting a refill.

🎵 as old as time 🎵

armand stares at a painting depicting him in the louvre, eyes wide, brows slightly furrowed, head slightly turned.

🎵 as straight as a line 🎵

the recording on daniel’s laptop flatlining, him looking at armand, armand smiling warmly at him.

🎵 as royal as a queen 🎵

lestat basks in all his king raj mardi gras costume glory, he smiles widely up at the camera positioned above his head.

🎵 as buzzed as a bee 🎵

lestat on stage in 2x03, wiggling his shoulders, smiling playfully, flipping his coat tails up and bending over for the audience.

🎵 as stealth as a tiger 🎵

estelle and celeste spying on louis and claudia in paris.

🎵 smooth as a glider 🎵

armand floats up the louvre floors as louis and dreamstat take the stairs.

🎵 pure as a melody, pure as i wanna be 🎵

first, a shot of louis and paul dancing at grace’s wedding, smiling at each other. then, a close-up of paul sitting of the roof, turning to look at an off-screen louis as the screen slowly fades to black and another watermark appears. the voiceover is paul and louis’: ”i love you, louis.” ”i love you too, baby brother.”

/end video description]

#iwtv #iwtv edit #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #SURPRISE!!!#not actually because i’ve BEEN talking about this hehe #i drop this at 1am and go to sleep #idk if there’s ever a perfect time to post art but hey. it’s here now!!! yay!!#HAVE AT IT!! ENJOY!!#my firstborn and my first time touching any editing software so if needed approach accordingly i guess #i wanna talk about my thoughts n choices while making this but i’m saving that for another post if i feel like it lol. enough tags for one #ost i think.#louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand #claudia iwtv #daniel molloy #madeleine iwtv #jacob anderson #sam reid #assad zaman #eric bogosian #delainey hayles #bailey bass #roxane duran #luke brandon field #if this gets any notes i’ll be excited as hell but even if it doesn’t i’m still happy because I MADE IT MYSELF #i have a few favorite parts personally that i think are like the standouts. tell me if you have one 👀#ok bye goodnight lol <3

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