#diavolust

meme. / @diavolust

     “Hah– am I?” There’s a playful tone to the summoner’s voice, a brow raising up with his question towards the vampire’s remark. Isaak’s half tempted to say something sarcastic, ask Veles whatever does he mean but Isaak isn’t stupid and he knows what he’s done. His fingers twitch against the air, curling to press against his palms and there’s a laugh that morphs into a pleased noise at the way fingers and nails dig hard into his wrists. Along with the sharp inhale he feels against the line of his neck, the duke’s nose brushing the corner of his jaw, Isaak can say he feels as though he’s won yet again.

     A smirk curls Isaak’s lips, gold eyes drooping slightly as he glances to the vampire and another breath is huffed from his lips. Chest heaving with each pant he makes, the summoner finds himself being pressed further down into the blankets and mattress of the bed beneath him. It doesn’t take him long to shift, to hike one leg up and hook it around Veles’ waist. It takes him even shorter to push his leg down and force the vampire’s hips into his own when he rocks up, a groan escaping him from the sudden pressure and friction.

     Truthfully, he’s surprised himself in managing to get Veles here. Never did he think he’d be lying on his back like this, the duke over top of him with his face buried against his throat. The thought still gets a chuckle from the summoner and he shifts his shoulder as his head tilts, nudging the duke carefully to grab his attention. Another panted breath is made before Isaak’s other leg is hiked up, curling around the vampire’s waist to lock him in place and Isaak is rolling his hips again. Eyelashes are batted to the duke before his eyes remain half lidded, and Isaak is tilting his head far to the side, the crook of his neck exposed in full view.

DON'T YOU WANT ME BABY: accepting!

Hot breath running over the vampire’s lips, tasting of mint and wine, Inshel is gasping and moaning yet again, the pain an oh-so-delicious sensation setting her nerves on fire. Even as her tiny hands grip his shoulders tightly, breath coming erratic and unsteady, a small, nigh-devilish little smirk creeps onto the witch’s face.

“Then stop talking, you fool of a man, and make good on all that waiting.”

What begins as a high-pitched, questioning laugh almost immediately devolves into an absolutely lustful moan falling out of her mouth as her back hits cold stone, and icy hands lift her thighs high on his hips, firmly holding her in place. Hearing fabric tear with the feral snarl in his throat, teeth tearing into the bodice of her armor, she doesn’t have the presence of mind to scold him for ruining her armor yet again.

The moment she settles into place, fingers slide into his silky raven locks, tugging at the roots of his hair as his name brokenly falls out of her mouth, breathless and somewhat shocked. The tempo his hips start against hers is met by her own, falling into their own little sort of dance that she can never deny him.

“Ve...les...” Her words a broken by a sharp gasp as his teeth sink into the plush flesh of her bosom, blood dripping down her torso in winding rivulets.

' Oh yes.... show me just how wet that little bud of yours is ~ '

' Already wet just thinking about me, are you ? '

' You can't suffocate a man who can't breathe. ' ♡

' It's /my/ tongue doing the pleasuring. '

' I'm not opposed to that. But I am still the one in control. '