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yuichi-ro · 2 years

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Astolfo x fem!vamp!Reader

─i just need a part of me to be inside him ok i need to feed Astolfo my blood cw: fem!Reader, dark content, power play, withdrawal symptoms, codependency, some sacrilegious context, consensual selfharm(?), cannibalistic themes, blood/consumption of it, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, general smut, unedited word count: 2.5k

Rosary beads clinking against your bed frame. The shift of the body above you causing the freshly discarded emblem of the church to tap against your headboard every time he moved. Astolfo dragging himself up the length of you.

Eyes heavily lidded. Cheeks flush with such a lively hue to them. Fixated on you under him. Staring up at his eyes you could swear you could see your own reflection in his dilated pupils. And what a lovely sight it was.

“...more-” Voice groggy and thick with a fog clouding his mind, when Astolfo finally said the first words since entering your room unannounced at such an hour it could only make your heart flutter in your chest, “I need more- You horrific beast give me more of your blood-”

Tilting your head to the side. Giving him nothing but a playful smile on your lips when Astolfo trembled above you. His legs caging you under him in a cute display of what little say he actually had in this outcome. Demands being made of you that only brought a bigger smile to your face.

“More of my blood?” You remained motionless under the chasseur even when he dropped down closer to you. Hands on either side of your face as a wall of pink hair came on either side of you. But all you could see was the beautiful desperation in his human eyes, “Careful now little lamb, we wouldn’t want you getting addicted to a lowly vampire after all.”

Twisting his fists in the blankets under your head. The moral fight waging itself within the chasseur’s mind was so wonderfully on display. Unable to keep from smiling when he snapped at you after making such a demand.

“Silence!” Astolfo feigned every ounce of dominance he had over you. Squeezing your hips tighter between his legs and even bringing his face lower to yours like that would intimidate you, “Foul beast I-” Words caught in his throat it seemed Astolfo had used up with moxy he’d accumulated to just come into your room so brazenly. Crumpling on top of you the chasseur’s let out an ugly loud choking sob into the crook of your neck, “Please- Please give that to me again vampire- I- I’ve never felt that way before I just- I want it again-”

Such desire. Such truth to his words. You hadn’t heard them in so long. Making such a pitifully perfect plea for you of all things.

“If you keep it up,” Your voice tickling the nape of his neck even as your lips brushed just his ear, “It will not end. You will forsake such a thing like the church for a vampire. Taste of me more...and you’ll surely die little lamb.”

The surprise shake to his head. Astolfo’s head shaking gaining in ferocity. Until he was hovering back above you with tears streaming down his cheeks with arms on either side of your head, “I don’t care- Please- You wretched vile thing I just- I want it-”

Hushing him gently. You reached up to cradle his face in your palms. Astolfo quickly pressing his tear stained cheek into your touch. Snot beginning to dribble from his nose even as he sniffled above you. Giving you the weight of most of his body the second you touched him. Lucky that you weren’t going to drop him as he cried above you.

“Poor little lamb...” You took him into your embrace. Bringing his face back to your neck. Feeling the sliminess of his snot and tears stain your nightgown’s collar as well as your neck. The chasseur’s body trembling above you like that of an addict looking for it’s next fix. Withdrawing from something that only a day ago he’d forsake with every fiber of his being. However desperate the situation was you couldn’t help the smile creeping up on your lips when you pressed a kiss to the side of his head and inhaled his ever so intoxicating aroma, “Listen, and listen well my little lamb...I will let you have as much as you want, but on one condition.”

For the first time since entering you room at such an ungodly hour his eyes seemed to focus on you if even for the moment. Astolfo staring down at you with a lust that transcended just a need for flesh and yet he couldn’t explain any of how he felt.

“...you will give yourself to me, above all else.” You stopped him before he could rebuke that. Finger to his lips and his face deepening to a scowl but you carried on in a low hushed whisper, “You taste too good for me to watch my manners. Either give all of yourself to me, and I return the favor to you, or you must leave at once little chasseur. Do you understand?”

As fevered as his actions had been when he came in. Now for the first time Astolfo gained some of his senses to truly understand what you meant. Give himself to a vampire, of all things, as a man of the church it was worthy of death. But then the clinch of the rosary beads above your heads caught his attention. Staring at them in the glimmer of light in the room. As they swayed and rattled across the wood of the headboard. He was a chasseur yes. But then he couldn’t deny all that the church had taken from him either. And within that laid his answer.

“Yes.” Astolfo mumbled, “Yes I- I understand.”

“I will drink of no blood but yours little lamb. Know this.”

“Drink of me.” Astolfo grabbed both sides of your face. Pulling you to him as he leaned down in unison. Hardly a couple of inches from your face with that wild look in his eyes taking over once again, “Never drink of anyone outside me. I forbid it. I- I’ll- I’ll kill you if you so much as ever taste another’s blood. You wretched, disgusting, foul-”

“Shhh now,” You quieted his rambling that was escalating quickly to tears again. While he still held your face you only smiled and took his delicate face into your own grasp, “I will drink only of you, Astolfo Granatum, you have my word.”

A tenseness washed over him and he could be felt gripping your face inadvertently tighter, “How- How do I know you mean it? A vampire like you could just lie and get your way.”

True. But you weren’t lying. Not now at least.

Leaning into him you didn’t sink your teeth into his neck as he expected. Instead Astolfo’s eyes widened when what you went for were his lips. Kissing him passionately with his face in your palms. Holding him still until he finally leaned into the kiss as well as the taste of blood. Unsure if it was his own or yours. Astolfo didn’t hold in the moan very well bubbling up in his chest as his tongue wrestled with yours in the blood twanged mixture of saliva between the heated kiss.

Pulling away revealed the blood came from a split in your lips. One you’d caused yourself by sinking your own fangs into your lip. Astolfo couldn’t help but stare fixated on the crimson drip on your lips. Licking his own for any remnants of spit and blood on his lips from the kiss.

Lips parted slightly he saw only the red of your blood but heard your words so clear, “Because I will give you my blood little lamb. I’ll share with you the closest thing to me. Bits and pieces of me I hope you eat up every day until one of us dies.”

No thought to it. Astolfo lurked forward. Not only to smash his lips onto yours. But drag his tongue along your split bottom lip. Hungry for more of you. Fueled by nothing but that desire for more of you to pass his lips. Spit, blood, both, he did not care. Only driven to consume you in ways he wished to be consumed himself.

Rocking his hips on your lap. Slowly picking up pace as he did so. You in your thin white nightgown. The chasseur in his undergarments. No arrangement that a decent human or vampire should find themselves in. But as your blood seeped into the kiss and he desired more. The clothes would soon become an issue.

Having his turn to satiate a need as such. Soon it was your turn.

Hand behind his head. Dragging a kiss drunk Astolfo to you once more. Bodies shifting from their orginal spots to a much more comfortable dynamic. The chasseur between your legs. Gown riding up your thighs in the dim room. Pressed more and more into yourself as you forced Astolfo down to your level. His face to be buried in your neck. All while you swept aside his pink hair.

Like you could see his veins pulsating under his skin. You hadn’t felt this way about anyone, human or vampire, in well over a hundred years. Arousing a thirst in you that you’d forgotten about ages ago.

Jaw unhinged. As wide as you could manage in fact. Astolfo’s meager moan was stifled when the human bit down lightly on your own neck. Nothing in comparison though when you sunk your teeth into him. Gush of blood igniting your senses. He tasted like nothing you’d ever had before. Leading you to grab onto him even tighter. Astolfo’s body willing and leaning more into you. The press of his hips into yours. Creak of the bed as you both moved. His discarded rosary beads tapping against the bed post as you fed on the church man himself.

Just like before, when both your senses went swimming in the most lovely way. Astolfo dazed and succumbing to the feeling of your saliva more potent than any drug known to human. And you ravaging his neck as his blood drooled into your maw and you devoured him like a fine meal. Such chemistry working wonders on your bodies. Soon enough it was evident enough even in your blood gorging to feel his clothed cock press against your hardly clothed core.

Even in his daze Astolfo was rutting his hips into you. Mindlessly in fact as he was absorbed in letting you feast on him. His labored breathing in your ear with his weight baring down on you. All while his cock strained against his nightwear and he kept pressing it harder against your in an attempt to alleviate his flush body.

“...would you like more of me, little lamb?” Blood covered lips mumbling into the wound on his neck. Slowly you were pulling up your gown until he was rubbing against your silken panties and that was all, “I’ll give you more of me if you ask.”

First a nod. Then a desperate amount of nodding as Astolfo couldn’t find his words, “Please- Make me feel- So much better-”

Kissing the bite marks on his neck. Just to dip your tongue in the intoxicating taste of his blood once more. You had little room to move with the way your bodies were smashed together. Unsure of the last time you took a lover. And if this chasseur in question ever had a lover. You continued to suck and feed off his neck as you pulled your own panties aside and helped him pull his drawers down. Before you knew it though Astolfo was rubbing his cock against your slit.

Soaked from the affects of his blood. Feeding on the perfect match truly the best aphrodisiac any human or vampire could ask for.

With his blood in your system. And your magic as well as the lingering taste of the bloodied kiss in him. Astolfo throbbed against your cunt. Moaning into your neck and pushing into you more. Weighted down by his frame on you but too out of it to make an assured temp. You honestly no better but with help the two of you were able to find the mark.

Sinking down to the hilt in you. Warm, wet gummy walls twitching around his cock. Astolfo groaned without care for who heard. Unable to comprehend the magical feeling taking him over. Your legs curling around his hips. Clutching him tight to you as you continued to lick up the blood seeping out of his wound. It didn’t take long to find the human moving his hips in such a natural way.

“F-Fuck-” Astolfo dug his fingertips into your shoulders as he held onto you. You weren’t about to go anywhere though with all of him on top of you like this. Pushing his cock as deep into you as he could. Simply giving your cervix the lightest kiss. Before pulling back and doing all over again. His body taking over in a haze. Astolfo’s hips only moving with more frantic nature the closer he got to an orgasm.

“Don’t stop-” You demanded breathlessly under him. Hearing you in fact surprised the chasseur and he opened his eyes to see you staving off your own pleasure in the moments following, “Don’t- Don’t you stop- Fuck- Haven’t- Haven’t in so long-”

No idea what you were babbling about. Astolfo got a crash course what you meant with his thrusts were faltered by your shuddering body.

With his blood on your lips. Gasping with a full body tremble stealing your voice away. Only pleading moans along with his name spilling past your bloodied lips. He felt as much as he saw. Your walls clamping down on him making it hard to keep his rhythm. But god how it felt so much better with whatever you were doing. Little knowledge that you were cumming on him and no time to think about it either as Astolfo felt his stomach tighten and his muscles cramp.

Overcome with euphoria. Forehead dewy and damp pressed to your own. The chasseur couldn’t stop the lewd snapping of his hips when his orgasm over took him. Driving himself as deep into you as possible. Cock twitching inside your walls just to coat them with gooey cum. Thick seed violating your deepest parts as the chasseur loomed over you hardly able to keep himself propped up on his elbows in the throws of such pleasure.

Come down only from the high of an orgasm. Still floating so effortlessly from the way your feeding made the both of you feel. Astolfo collapsed on top of you. Cock still buried inside you but growing softer by the minute. And the sweet tempting taste of his dried blood on his neck where you bit him. Making you clench around him to be so close to the taste of him. Astolfo moaning above you but utterly too weak to do anything. You finally couldn’t help it.

Flinging him off of you. To replace yourself on top of him. Face going right to his neck. Kitten licks as you cleaned up the blood that seeped out. But did not drink more from him. The tired chasseur trying to catch his breath under you. Only enough energy to raise his hand to gently cup the back of your head as you licked him clean of blood.

The same clinch of the rosary beads signaling how the two of you moved in bed. Until finally the they ceased any ruckus. Silence falling on the room as the two of you fell asleep more than content with the arrangement that had just been formed.

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elia-de-silentio · 2 years

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THE METAMORPHOSIS OF NOE’ ARCHIVISTE

I have an admission: I never particularly liked the so-called ‘cinnamon rolls’. They’re the pure characters, the goody-two shoes, nice, always loving, who never get angry (tenderly upset at most), want to save everybody, uwu, protectatallcosts … and not much else in the way of personality. They often end up as the blandest in the character cast.

When they’re given some depth, it’s often to show that they’re hypocrites and actually the exact opposite of what they present themselves as, absolute bastards with no redeeming traits; an archetype that often ends up just as stereotyped and flat as the ‘pure’ version.

That’s why, when I find a Cinnamon Roll that’s well and truly good and kind, and at the same time has darker characteristics that make them a multidimensional character, I tend to absolutely love them. This is the case of Noé Archiviste.

Noé starts out as the most straightforward Cinnamon Roll: he’s nice and polite to Amelia, he rushes to adorably stamp himself on the glass when they first get in sight of the city (revealing he had a sheltered, country upbringing in the meanwhile), and when Vanitas ambiguously rushes on the scene, appearently attacking Amelia, he chivalrously runs to defend the distressed damsel. Said damsel ends up using him as a snack, but it’s the thought that matters.

Right after, he saves Vanitas from the fall, with a little aside to muse on the beauty of a moon that most vampires consider a bad omen; something he did even when he was little. Back to Vanitas, he wouldn’t want to help him, initially, because he doesn’t like him, something he says with an utterly candid honesty; but further talking with Amelia and remembering why his elusive Teacher sent him to Paris to begin with change his mind (on helping, not on Vanitas).

But between the Loup Garou and the Bal Masqué arcs, here appears an interesting characteristic of Noé: a tendency to place people into slots. Vanitas, who introduced himself as someone who could save vampires from Malnomen, was promptly labelled as someone who could never fail, as per his own words. When it happened, or at least it happened in the eyes of Noé, and they stumbled upon a cursebearer too far gone to be cured and could only be mercy killed, Noé snapped.

But he himself realized his mistake. Vanitas never promised him anything, it was him who pushed his expectations on the other. He acts as the most stable person in the asylum that is VnC: he goes to Vanitas and apologizes, declaring his interest in actually following and helping him, as a person, not as a savior on a pedestal.

In the Catacombs Arc, he has his first very serious argument with Vanitas. The reason is quite simple: he was lecturing Vanitas on the fact that he was weak and so shouldn’t have exposed himself to danger; this paired with putting himself at risk to protect him. Classical heroic behavior, except that it pisses off Vanitas to no end.

The doctor - who, unknowingly to Noé, is currently fighting against an onslaught of horrible memories and trauma - explodes at him, to the point of calling him slurs, and going on a tirade against ‘people who are strong, but make themselves weak’, meaning those who will sacrifice themselves for the sake of others.

Now, Noé really didn’t expect such a reaction, but if there’s one thing we can say about him, is that he learns. From that moment onward, he never again treats Vanitas like some frail little creature, instead regarding him as an equal. At least explicitly, we’ll get there in a moment.

So, Noé concludes his role in the Catacombs Arc all heroic and ispirational. Next thing he does, is falling headfirst in a very obvious trap Ruthven set up for him. He likely didn’t expect it, not from someone in such a respectable position as a Senator, playing well into the classical naivete of a Cinnamon Roll; but it resulted in a mistake that now puts him under Ruthven’s control, and he doesn’t even know it.

During the Gevaudan Arc, he once again tries to play nice against an enemy: he finds himself in front of Astolfo, a mere fifteen-years-old, but a fifteen-years-old who’s hell-bent on killing him and actually has the means to do so. This wouldn’t mean he would be easily capable to defeat Noé, but our resident Cinnamon Roll is too busy trying not to hurt the kid to put up a proper fight.

The one to set him straight is Vanitas, the one who had previously faced Astolfo by playing absolutely lurid with psychological warfare. He points out that his life is in danger, and in their current situation they can’t allow themselves any weakness: Noé needs to stop having care for child adversaries, and fight at his full capacity. Please set aside this teaching for later.

Admittedly, Noé is kind of on the sidelines for the Gevaudan arc. This isn’t to say that he doesn’t do anything, but still he doesn’t receive the same level of focus as Chloé or Jeanne; this is basically their arc. He mainly reacts to what is going on around him: he expresses shock at Chloé’s appearent decision to side with Naenia, pities Jean-Jacques, runs around trying to protect and save Vanitas. All good, ‘appropriate’ reactions to what’s happening.

And he takes Vani’s advice on how to fight Astolfo very seriously. He finally gives his … most, because at the end of it, the kid is still standing, with most of his wounds due to abusing the Chasseur’s drug.

Then the Amusement Park arc happens. And oh boy, if our Cinnamon Roll isn’t shaken to the core.

First, his childhood friend is placed in danger, bringing the trauma from Louis’ death in the forefront of his mind; then he is forced into a blood-drinking he doesn’t want, by a child of all things; then he finds himself in front of Vanitas, who loses the softer demeanor he has had this recent chapters and reverts back to his cold self, refusing to do anything to save the last friend Noé has. At this point, Misha orders him to fight Vanitas and forcibly drink his blood. And Noé does so.

Look how this ‘cinnamon roll’ is being portrayed right now: a disproportionated mass of fangs that lunges on. That’s the representation of a monster. Vanitas goes from ‘cold and detached’ to 'absolutely terrified' in the span of less than a second. He fights back, but this clash is uneven; the vampire can destroy the whole park with little to no effort, while Vanitas has to inject himself with the Chasseur drug just to avoid him.

What makes the whole situation even more interesting is Johan’s disgusted comment. He observes that Noé is strong, and confident in his strenght; he never really had to do whatever it takes just to stay alive, and that, not some particular moral superiority, is why he can play the benevolent part, the role of the one who won’t stoop to certain lows in a fight.

This allows the weaker Vanitas, who is used to fight tooth and nail to just survive, a margin of advantage; but it’s not definitive, and the situation isn’t truly resolved between the two, it’s resolved by Jeanne.

She ran up to the amusement park, saw the situation, basically undestood everything in a glance and 1) saved Dominique, removing the need for a conflict between Noé and Vanitas; 2) yelled at Noé to take a good look at his opponent, to ‘truly’ look at him. This proved to be vital: suddenly Noé realized the expression of absolute terror Vanitas had, and a split second later he saw his own expression in a mirror - one of absolute fury.

This clashes so much with the idea he has of himself, of who he wants to be, that he stops dead on his tracks and reconsiders the situation. Now lucid, he can get back at reflecting on his misgivings about Vanitas, about what he messed up and what he can do next, and go on to be the sensible, self sacrificing part in the fight.

This endangers his own life by a lot, but in the end, even the brainwashed Vanitas can’t bring himself to kill him, and ultimately collapses from the exaustion of the fight, the drugs and the emotional stress. The situation here is averted, and then Teacher arrives on the scene and distracts everyone with his mysteries.

Then, there is yet another rooftop confrontation between Noé and Vanitas, with a guest star appearence by an heavily bandaged Misha. It’s the first time we see both of our heroes so calm and collected, even talking things out (what’s this heresy?). It’s the scene where Vanitas drops the bomb: if he were to be killed, he would like to be killed by Noé. And our hero says nothing to this; but he leans on Vanitas, wordlessly showing him trust and then he helps him rise up, like he had done in the catacombs.

Now, the reason I find Noé so interesting is in two elements. The first can be expressed via Johan’s comment: Noé’s kindness is due in no small part to his own strength, to his underlying awareness that he is powerful and, should he fail the diplomatic strategy, he would probably win over most dissidents (especially those he already pegged as ‘weak’ like Vanitas) by sheer force. I mean, this is not a very charitable interpretation - it reeks of condescention a mile wide. Noé’s willingness to talk things out wouldn’t be born of (or at least, not entirely) actual respect for others and a love for pacific communication, but from a gracious concession, that can be revoked anytime.

It also gives him a disadvantage: when he thinks that his opponent is weaker (that is, most of the time), he gets concerned about them. He can’t be too rough on them, the poor little things wouldn’t be able to survive his might! And this comes to bite him in the ass because, as pointed out by Johann, when people fight believing that their life is in line, they give everything they’ve got, overpowering someone who’s techincally stronger but holding back.

So, there is this interesting little spin on the Cinnamon Roll who wants to resolve things by talking; it’s not a complete subversion, it’s an exploration on why he behaves like that and why this behaviour might not be inherently ‘pure’.

The second is the constant growth that is demanded of him. I’m used to stories where the Cinnamon Roll archetype starts out pretty much as good as he cana get and spends the plot turning people better by supporting them; at most, they must learn to Not Be So Naive.

The plot of The Case Study of Vanitas is Noé starting out as sheltered, recognizing that he is, and try to improve himself. Noé is constantly analizing his own behavior: he learned not to push his own expectations onto the others, he learned that people can have complex and painful backstories and that he can empathize with them, but he can also recognize their pain and decide that he can’t abide their behavior anyways. He is in the long, awkward process of trying to stop seeing other people as inherently frail and in need of his protection, but also stop seeing them as ‘not a problem, I can shut them up if I really want to’.

Personally, I don’t think that this will be the kind of story where the naive protagonist turns into Gruff Hardass one beating after the other. I think that by the end, Noé will have suffered a lot; he will have experienced even more traumas that those he already has, and get some more things to feel guilty about under his belt. But I don’t think he’ll ever lose his idealism. He might be tempted, but he’ll refuse to lose hope and become like Ruthven, turning into an ispiration for whomever survives of the current cast.

And with this, I think I exhausted this little and fairly pointless rant.

Thanks to anybody who bothered to read my ramblings!

#vnc #vanitas no carte #vanitas no shuki #the case study of vanitas #vnc meta #vnc analysis #vnc noe #vnc vanitas #vnc mikhail #vnc astolfo #elia's recaps #vnc teacher

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