@castiels-destiny
main four (sketches) are down!! Misty as her nightmare fire werewolf form, Fang as his dragon-wolf form, Dagger as her werecat form (yeahhh i draw her as a regular cat) and Paradox as her ShapeWing form. i might cut off the extra paper on the left because theyre not centered 😭😭
also the mug was an inside joke as Dagger would knock over the teacher’s mug in the earlier pages, and everytime it was replaced she would do it again, then when the new school was built and they were all principals basically, Dagger tried knocking over Paradox’s mug but it didn’t work as Paradox enchanted it lmfaooo
so Dagger broke the enchantment in this drawing and Paradox is laughing
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YAY I'm glad you want to write vamps!! I always welcome more Castlevania Dracula x reader content! feel free to choose the general scenarios, but if you're comfortable writing it I'd love to hear about how he handles being tempted by your blood 👀
𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐀.
› ..your taste is like ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. gn reader. — i got carried away with this guys vampires draw out the worst in me LMAO. if this is too intimate and eyebrow raising im sorry i love vampires and their stupid metaphorical actions for romance.
Dracula is ancient. He is old. He has walked the earth for centuries, and has learned to ease his bloodlust. Yes, he is very well-acquainted with the temptations that comes with vampirism, and he does his best to keep his fangs clean, for he is mot the man he once was.
It is enticing. The smell that emits from your pretty pulse points, the way your heartbeat echoes and reverberates off of the castle walls drive his bloodlust farther. But he holds back. He will not succumb to his primal instincts. Not yet, at least.
But the day will come. He knows it will, for when your neck flaunts itself through the collar of your clothes he feels his façade slip and his hunger grow.
So the day comes, he holds a hand gingerly and sinks his teeth into your wrist. No, it is not the neck, but he feels like this is more appropriate than biting you in such an intimate place. He would not do anything you did not wish and would take it slowly, which is why his fangs would dip into the supple skin of your wrist; to ease you into the puncturing pain that will become familiar to you.
To Vlad, the act is intimate. He savours it, taking his time to ensure comfort and relish in the taste, smell, and essence. So when the time comes and his fangs graze your neck, he feels your pulse quicken under his lips, and his hand would make its way to the side of your head and softly entangle it in your hair, craning your head to the side for better access. Agonizingly slow his fangs would pierce into your flesh, drinking like a starved dog.
If he could he would stay there for eternity, to bleed you dry because your blood tastes like ambrosia, the food of the gods. He will not succumb to such basic and primal instincts no matter how much he wants to. He will not become more of a monster than he already is. Instead he would drink in the gasps that leave you, the pained hitch in your breath when he punctures your neck. He would not try to soothe you, too drunk on the taste he neglected for so long.
But the way it tastes on his tongue would drive him mad. It would simultaneously ease his bloodlust and drive it, making him want more. Enticing you were, so utterly cruel, but he would not lose himself in your scent. He would not allow it. You would not be a personal blood-bank for him, you are so much more than that.
You are his Achilles heel with your sweet taste. You would make him crumble to his knees just for a taste. He is weak for you, your scent and your smell. He becomes nothing more than a starved man when his fangs puncture your neck and tongue lap up the sweet, sweet nectar that oozes out and down your sweet skin.
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CRITICAL ERROR: GENDER NOT FOUND holographic stickers are now back in stock!
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