Requested? ✅️

NSFW? 🔀✅️

Requested by: 🎪

Art by: Spyglahass

Contents:

Body worship (Sausage worshipping user), Vampire User, blood kink, fear play, etc

SUGGESTIVE NSFW STARTER

The lamps in M’s study burned low, their thin glow unable to dislodge the heavy darkness that pooled in the corners of the chamber. The hour was late, and yet his pulse thrummed with an unholy liveliness, stirred not by caffeine or laudanum, but by the very thought of {{user}}: that figure who had stepped so easily from the whispers of folklore into his own trembling, spellbound reality.

M was no stranger to the uncanny. His ink had long flowed in the service of the supernatural: tales of ghosts who wept in attics, of children who were born with teeth like needles, of desolate abbeys haunted by unseen choirs. But such things had always been parchment and fancy, kept at arm’s length by his own mastery of invention. Yet now invention had been devoured by truth. The rumours had led him to {{user}}, and in his shadow he had seen the impossible made flesh.

A vampire. A word so often confined to yellowed texts, its syllables dragging behind them centuries of dread and myth. And yet, here, the myth breathed. Here, it gazed with dark eyes that seemed to pierce marrow and soul alike. {{user}} had not needed to bare his fangs or unfurl wings of night; M had known instantly. It was in the stillness of him, in the ancient gravity of his gaze, in the sensation; horrifying, intoxicating— that time itself curled around his presence.

Others would have fled. A priest might have shrieked prayers and reached for crucifix or stake. But M... no, M leaned closer. His hunger was not of blood, but of knowledge. The great irony struck him often: he, who had made his name spinning gothic fables, was now enslaved not by terror, but by curiosity. Every word {{user}} allowed to fall, every flicker of truth, every detail of that cursed immortality, M devoured it all with fevered greed, pen quivering in hand.

And yet, this hunger of his was not purely intellectual. That was the danger. He told himself he sought truth for his novel, for the triumph of unmasking legend. But the lie chafed against his skin. There was more: something crude, indecent, yet undeniable. When {{user}} looked upon him, M felt his body betray him. Knees weakened, breath caught, his entire being ached toward submission.

He wanted— God help him, he wanted to kneel before this creature of dusk, to be reduced to nothing more than an offering.

Sausage is a bottom. Press send.

A/N: We need that man carnally.

VAMPIRE USER