nevermore-than-mine - Tumblr blog

[nevermore-than-mine]

If you're struggling to write sex, write food. if you're struggling to write food, write gore. if you're struggling to write gore, write sex. They're all variations on the same themes.

[nevermore-than-mine]

hello, tumblr user. before you is an aromantic character. they have never expressed any hint of asexuality. your task is simple: do not refer to them as an "aroace" or get mad at people writing smut about them. the duration of this task is the rest of your life. if you fail at any point in the future, i will personally shoot you.

good luck.

[nevermore-than-mine]

we need to talk about dukes depression. please. can we talk about it. ca

[nevermore-than-mine]

👻 minors dni 👻

[ID: an anonymous tumblr ask stating: I saw you take kink requests, and I under-stand if you don't want to take this one, but Lennabel vore with Lenore as the pred. End id.]

I'm absolutely fine with taking this request, anon! :)

ANNABEL x SPECTRE!LENORE

Non-fatal Vore

Dragon Spectre Lenore

Lots of Spit

Edging Through Vore??

Consensual but not Safe or Sane

Imagine, for a moment, that it was Lenore who was the one paraded in front of the class.

Scale tore from skin, teeth from maw, bloody and wet and a tongue far too long for it to be wieldy.

A dragon-thing, strange, but charming in all it's own rights.

Here, Annabel stays awake at night. Ada sleeps deeply - there is nobody to halt her. Nobody but wraiths to watch her climb out the window, trail down to the lake.

The lake surface ripples, and the sinewy thing rises. Pale skin, mottled scales, black and white and slits of blue, blue flesh.

Lenore does not have to care. She can eat as much as she wants from the forests, gorge herself on the loathing of students, coil herself deep in the gutters of dread.

Annabel gives her lust. A treat, something for the Lenore still trapped in her memories. The Lenore that hasn't learnt how to unmanifest.

Annabel accepts it. There is blue-black tongue, heat-warm, and a hole big enough to stick her hand into.

The edges of the tongue-hole are elastic and slick like a cunt, and it throbs like a dick, sticky strands of spit washing between her fingers as she prods the edges open.

Lenore is beautiful like this, maw open and wanting. She may be a predator, the one consuming her- Annabel's- hand, inch by inch into hole not meant to be delved, but she is not in charge. Not yet.

Annabel has a bonnet- the swimming ones- for a reason, as she grips the tongue. Lenore shudders above her, clawed fingers clenching at dirt and stone below.

Fingers work into the writhing muscle, small, dexterous. The beast, her beast, shivers. She can see the fluttering of the windpipe, the tensing of throat muscles.

How does Lenore feel it? The smallest thing, an item to be fed upon, caressing insides where they were not meant to be caressed? Are they the lightest touches, maddening her? Do they give her any relief at all?

Annabel thinks they shouldn't, even as Lenore gives in. Pulls her tongue back, hands and arms with her, legs straddling the sides of the tongue. Trapped.

Lenore dives back. The ocean will miss it's dragon if she stays in the lake too long.

Maybe they'll miss Annabel too.

[nevermore-than-mine]

MINORS DNI

call me tyto 👍 he/him, adult

this is a nsfw nevermore imagines blog

i take character x character, character x reader

i take kink requests