𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌’𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒓𝒐𝒕

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 — call me [ nick ]. 23. afro-latino. they/he/she. pansexual. infp-t 6w5.

𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐦 & 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 — @denynothing

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 — solely dedicated to writing top & dom!reader. no fem reader. all characters are 18+. NO REQUESTS, only thirst prompts. do not steal, repost, or share on other platforms. ask before translating.

☇ all works on ao3 are only visible to registered users !

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 — masterlist. rules. kinktober.

𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 — ☀️🧇🕊️🚬🍽️👾💐🪻♣️🦄🌈🧪🎧🥀🍒🧶

[𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 - 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞.]

➔ i do not give permission to use my works for anything related to ai

HELP FOR GAZA 🇵🇸🍉

uhhh cw for mentioned cannibalism and attempted suicide then murder of an unnamed character

—

“Y’know, sometimes I feel like you’re one bad day away from eating me.” It’s a valid concern, you think, but Daniel says it so casually that it’s very obvious that he’s not concerned at all.

Lestat scoffs, rolling his eyes like he’s offended for you, “Don’t be silly, Daniel, mon chou does not bite.” And then he goes back to dabbing up the blood on your chin.

“Yeah, Daniel, I don’t bite.” You grin at Daniel from over his shoulder, not bothering to retract the rows of sharp—and very not vampire-like—teeth protruding from your gums.

“Right.” Daniel averts his eyes with an amused huff. “And I’m Oprah Winfrey.”

You really like Daniel, he’s cool. He got over the whole nightmare fuel thing quicker than most, learned to avoid prolonged eye contact if he wanted to sleep well. Can’t say the same for the guy whose blood Lestat is so lovingly wiping from your skin.

Another fledgling that called himself an Armand Truther or some other equally insane thing, made you laugh right up until he described all the ways Lestat should suffer. You… don’t remember much after that, came to just in time to see him bashing his own head against the wall until his skull cracked open, letting out noises that could only be described as a feral kind of terror.

You didn’t ignore the hunger it summoned because who are you to deny a free meal?

fledgling looking lestat: rubbing against him and purring like a cat while he scratches your chin

Lestat doesn’t know it, but he’s kept from seeing the Horrors™ just because eldritch fledgling loves him a lot <3

—

Lestat is half laying on you, scrolling through his socials with one hand while the other absentmindedly scratches at your scalp. He smells like your shared body soap and the coppery undertones of blood. He turns his head to press kisses onto the curve of your jaw, smiling against your skin when that inevitable, rattling purr starts up in your chest.

You lean into his touch, eyes going iridescent and half-lidded. You’re content enough as you are, comfortably sitting together and watch at him look at things he likes (pretending you’re not actively staring at his soul and everything that makes him).

But he tosses his phone to the side and throws his arms around your shoulders, mouth meeting yours with a wordless sound that you identify as unabashedly happy. And then you have a lap full of him, lukewarm and happy and his soul’s shining like sparklers in the dark.

(Sometimes you want to look deeper—to peel back the layers and drive your fingers into the sinew and curl up in his ribcage and breathe him in.

His fledgling:

Holy,

I need Thragg and Conquest in all ways that matter