#2019ikevampholidayexchange

[assomoir]

the sky might be falling; but the stars look good on you

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh x MC

Summary: A peek into a day of Theo’s life [and a reminder that she had her insecurities sometimes].

Note: Written for the @ikevamp-holiday-exchange​​ ! Hello @ceet​ , I enjoyed writing this (although writing non-smut was a challenge for me), so I really hope you’d like this too :) I saw your tags, so here’s to the both of us being fools for this man.

Title taken from the music of Ólafur Arnalds’ biography.

She slept in his room more often than not these days, and Theo’s morning routine shifted to accommodate her presence.

Between the two of them, he would wake up first. It’s a hard-formed habit carried over from the years before his death; one he sustained for many reasons, but also because she looked softer in the pale gray of dawn. Lights from his chandelier fell on her sleeping form, and he propped himself up as his eyes were inexorably drawn to the way the sheets shaped themselves over her waist, the drape of hair over her breasts, the trail of hickeys blossoming along her body—

She stirred under his gaze, and blinked her eyes open with a yawn.

“Theo..?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back on the pillows, enjoying the way her languid stretches shifted the covers and exposed more skin. “Good morning.”

The patches of red scattered on her neck seemed to call for his touch, because he knew they matched the curve of his teeth – remembered how she tasted on his tongue. When he reached out to touch them, she pressed a string of open-mouthed kisses on his palm, a pleased smile forming on her lips, the echo of flame dancing in her eyes.

(There’s something about her that, when seen in these quiet, intimate twilight hours, felt like something really close to perfection. He’d seen it in the way she lowered her lashes as she bent down for a kiss, or in the way her back arched as he drove her over that maddening edge for the umpteenth time in a night.)

(It still left him breathless every time.)

“…hey,” he half-heartedly asked— no, warned her, if she really wanted to rouse him so early in the morning, when the rasp in her voice is still so clearly audible and the marks she left on his back still tingled.

(He absently looked down to find that her trimmed fingernails had grown longer, and thought about how he would know about it; for he wore the shape of them in various parts across his own body.)

“Sorry, sorry,” she chuckled, “but ten more minutes, please?”

Theo hummed in assent, suppressing his smile. Kissed the top of her head and quietly let the fire, simmering low in his stomach, burn.

Most days, they work together. This cloudy Friday was one of those days.

Their only client that noon was an elderly nobleman in his late 50s, a Marquis Theo adored due to his kind disposition and shared appreciation toward the impressionist movement. Negotiations involving two of Vincent's paintings had gone swimmingly well, and as they stepped out of the gates, just before he hailed a carriage to take them home, she grabbed his sleeve and shyly asked if they could, perhaps, go for a stroll around the city? If he would like to have a little date before going back, because she had dressed up in a dress that matched his new suit, which would be wasted if they weren’t paraded around town for a bit, especially since the weather was nice albeit a little cold, and it would do him no harm to slow down because he had always been working hard, and—

"Sure," he said, effectively cutting her off, yet the fond amusement was plain to hear even for himself.

It's going to rain, he thought, glancing up at the sky overhead. We can go tomorrow instead, on our day off. But he went along with her plans anyway, mostly because Theo had stopped trying to tell himself that he still had any semblance of self-control around her months ago.

(That, and something about her had seemed a little sad this morning. It upset him in a way he couldn’t quite understand.)

So she took him to the Louvre, where everything began – saying that despite having visited the place many times over, he still owed her a proper tour of the museum. They ventured into the Assyrian Gallery, walking among creatures of black marbles and gray stones that left them more than a little amused. In the French Gallery, Géricault's Raft of the Medusa stole her attention at once – but when he explained the event depicted behind the painting, she had this extremely sad expression on her face – such that he had to practically drag her into the next gallery, half-panicked, so she wouldn't cry. It worked, though, because the mirror-like floor and gilded ceiling in the Gallery of Apollo fascinated her. They spent the rest of their visit admiring the artworks in Salon Carré: him explaining the Wedding at Cana, Pardo Venus, Soult's Virgin, Titian's Mistress, and them snickering in front of Mona Lisa and la Belle Ferronnieré.

By the time they stepped out of the Louvre, it was already half past three in the afternoon. The chilly November air had gotten even colder; the sky considerably darker.

(But her smile got a little wider, too.)

Expecting the rain to come any time now, he took her to this quaint café-slash-bookstore tucked in the corner of the 1st arrondissement. True enough, the storm started in the middle of their late-afternoon meal – and they watched the passerby bursting into a hurried frenzy all at once. After a little less than an hour it turned into nothing more than a light drizzle, but the streets had turned muddy and her skirt must be hiked up high when crossing Place Vendôme. The rain had not dampened her mood at all, though, for she kept humming happily as they passed through the high column overlooking the square.

“I assume you're no longer sad?”

She blinked at him. Once, twice, before timidly grinned. “I wasn't sad though. Things went smoothly at work, and you’ve been very indulgent today."

"...Has it ever occurred to you that those two things are probably related?"

The tinkle of her laugh filled the air, alongside the scent of petrichor as the shower ceased to an end. Rain had always lent the city some sort of a gloomy mood, but for the first time, Theo took a deep breath and let himself bask in it.

Maybe because somehow, the amber glow of streetlights looked a bit more somber than usual, and it bathed the city in a warm luster despite the crisp atmosphere. Seine was flowing by, where from this distance, they could see the turbulent waters moving below Pont Royal. The hustle of shops lined up on the other side of the street and busy traffic rumbled the sidewalk they were walking on, giving that distinct, noisy bustle he had grown to associate with the city.

She took his arm as they continued walking along the cobblestone, and he was struck quiet by the strange thought of how at home she looked like. As if she belonged right here, in 19th century Paris, all along—

"It's just— I was thinking," she suddenly murmured, "that I've been here for almost a year. Time flew really quickly. I'm still very happy, though."

It was almost imperceptible, the way she turned her head to glance at him – like she did whenever she was unsure about asking him something – but enough for him to press an encouraging kiss on her temple. Go on, he conveyed. I'm listening.

"...I hope you're still happy too, Theo."

Ah.

The faint kaleidoscope on the river was reflected on her eyes not unlike the starlight, and when the following silence stretched for a second too long, his next words slipped out without permission.

"I can promise you, I've never been happier in all my life."

A burst of giggle escaped her. His brain, half-relieved and half-caught off-guard, scrambled for a response, and ended up blurting the first thing that came to mind.

"Don't laugh! I'm serious."

"I know, I know, but it's adorable. You indulged all my wishes because you thought I was sad?"

"...It's because you did great today. That calls for some treats, no?"

She quickly recovered and playfully smacked his shoulder, but he inwardly cringed because it actually hurt. He deserved it, though. "Again! I'm not your puppy."

"Really? But puppies are cute, I love them."

"I'm cuter."

"Well yeah, you are."

She was clearly taken aback by this, and he couldn't help but snort at her flabbergasted expression.

"Theo!"

That evening, he kissed her hard and rough, tangling his fingers in the strands of her hair. I haven’t had dinner, he teased, voice low and tempting, his breath hot on her lips. May I? She couldn’t help but moan then, a hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, the other pushing his head to her neck. Heat consumed them as he carried her to the bed, prompting him to strip her down and let his body do the talking for the next few hours.

Later, when the high had worn down, he pulled her into his arms – freshly bathed, smelling like roses – and she grew quiet, lulled by the distant thunder and the sound of raindrops. He watched the light playing tricks on her hair, heart softer than the spun silk of her nightgown, and thought—

If I could spend eternity like this—

“Theo, sleep.”

He smirked. “Why is the dog telling me what to do?”

“Because you’re thinking too loudly,” she smiled knowingly, and his own softened. “I love you, you know that?”

Sometimes Theo forgot just how easily she unraveled him in all the ways that counted, leaving him a flustered mess wrapped around her little finger. “…Cheeky hondje. I love you too.”

If he was any lesser man, he’d probably skip all those elaborate, carefully-crafted plan about proposing and just drop on one knee right there and then; the lack of ring be damned. But since he liked to think he still had a teeny bit of restraint (however small) a peck on her forehead was deemed enough, followed by drawing the cover higher over their bodies.

She’s here, he mused before drifting off to sleep. 

For as long as they had each other, he existed only in bliss.

[lordsister]

Learning (Vincent Van Gogh x Reader)

A/N: My gift for my ikevamp holiday gift exchange partner @rubird--playsotome! Hope you enjoy it! I went a little crazy with the fluff.;D

I do not own Ikemen Vampire or any of its characters. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic.

Please do not repost or reblog this on any other website.

Enjoy!!!<3

It bothered Vincent sometimes, the way he didn’t know what to do when he was with you. Every gesture was something new, uncharted territory, and he never knew if it was right for the time and place. Not that you would ever reject him even if it was.

Of course, that didn’t mean he was about to give up. Far from it in fact. No way was the older Van Gogh brother an expert when it came to romance and relationships, but he was going to try his absolute hardest to make you feel as loved and appreciated as he possibly could. To make you feel the way you made him feel.

That is to say, there were a few things that he did pick up the more time he spent with you, and he wielded his new knowledge well to love you as you deserved to be loved.

First, when she stares at your mouth, kiss her.

He’d taken you out to dinner in town and the two of you had decided to go for a walk after. It was a warm summer night, other couples out to look at the lights and enjoy each other’s company just as he and you were.

Your fingers were laced comfortably with his and Vincent couldn’t help thinking about how soft and perfect your hand felt as you walked beside him, the warm street lights sparkling in your eyes as you glowed softly in the night lights. It was an object of fascination for him, the way you saw the world. He thought he captured a little bit of it in his paintings, but it was hard to tell. You brought a sense of wonder to his life that he’d forgotten he’d been searching for.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, leaning into him, and he could’ve sworn you felt how fast his heart was beating. His body instinctively tilted closer to yours, seeking your warmth, and he enjoyed the way your sweet scent filled his nose the closer he got. To Vincent, you smelled like sunshine, home, and - maybe this was wishful thinking - like him. 

He hummed as you turned to look at him, lovestruck by the awe in your eyes. You probably could’ve insulted him and told him to go die in that moment and he still would have nodded and sighed, dreamy smile on his face as he gazed at you.

“Thank you for taking me out tonight, Vincent. I really enjoyed it.” Your words were genuine, your smile just as adoring as his as you squeezed his hand. 

“It’s my pleasure,” he responded softly.

The moment was very nearly perfect, but still he felt like something was missing, like there was something he was supposed to do at a time like this. He didn’t realize his eyes had drifted until your pink tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip, the sudden urge to capture your mouth with his own and nibble on the plump appendage coursing through him. 

His eyes darted away and he hoped you hadn’t noticed the way he’d been staring at your mouth. Vincent wanted to kiss you so badly, but should he? Would it be okay? Did you want him to kiss you?

He took another peak at you from the corner of his eyes and noticed that your own gaze had shifted downwards, lingering on his lips with the same interest he’d been looking at you with seconds ago. Your teeth worried at your bottom lip and it was too much for him to hold back anymore.

Sucking in a breath, he turned on his heel to fully face you, tugging you a little closer as he did. Tenderly cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand, he leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, giving you plenty of time and room to pull away if you wanted to. 

You didn’t, to his delight, and he realized that you tasted just as good as you smelled. 

Second, when she pulls away, pull her back.

Vincent woke gradually one morning, details of the world coming into focus bit by bit until he was conscious enough to make sense of them. The first thing he noticed was that it was still dark out, the crack in the curtains displaying only the slightest glimpse of a night sky gradually lightening. The second thing he noticed was that you were combing your fingers through his hair, leaving soft trails of pleasure along his scalp in your wake.

He sighed at your touch, leaning into it and making you giggle softly in the stillness. Neither he nor you said anything, preserving the peace of your own little world for as long as possible. You were just petting him, but he felt so loved in that moment it made his heart ache, a soft purr rising in his throat as he snuggled into you. Vincent could feel your heart beating against his, a soft thump that threatened to lull him back to sleep.

All too soon, you pulled away from him, moving to get up and get ready for the day. Maybe it was his still sleepy mind or the fact that he really didn’t want to let you go yet that made him pull you back against him, tucking you against his bare chest and curling himself around you. 

“Vincent, Sebastian’s going to be mad at me,” you whispered, your words at odds with your actions as you returned his embrace, settling against him once more.

His fingers tangled in the soft baby hair at the nape of your neck, watching through half-lidded eyes as the strands slipped through the digits. “I’ll explain to him later. Don’t worry about it. Right now I just want to cuddle with you more.”

“Okay.”

Closing his eyes again, Vincent’s sleepy smile grew a little more when he felt you lean up and brush soft lips against his own.

Third, when you see her walking, sneak up and hug her waist from behind.

He’d gone looking for you, knowing that your chores for the day ought to be finished by then and wanting your company. Not a second went by that you weren’t on his mind and even though he tried to give you the space he thought you sometimes wanted, he couldn’t help wanting you close, ready to hold and love as much as he wanted.

Fortunately for him, he caught sight of you the moment he turned a corner, your figure lit up by the daylight streaming through the windows as you took a rag to the glass, scrubbing until it shown. You hadn’t noticed him, invested in your work as you were, so he took the moment to simply admire you. 

A soft smile appeared on his face as he watched, faintly wishing he had his paints and a canvas or at least a pencil and pad to sketch you with. He’d already created several paintings of you that he kept solely for his own pleasure. When Theo had broached the topic of selling them with all of the others, Vincent had balked at the idea, refusing to let go of anything he had made involving you. Every single one had his feelings for you invested in them. To sell them was unthinkable.

He was startled out of his reverie when you turned away from him, gathering up your cleaning supplies and moving down the hall. Vincent briefly considered calling out to you, but thought better of it, going the more mischievous route instead. 

Padding after you as quietly as he could, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, a squeak leaving your lips as you jumped in his grasp. Your eyes met his sparkling baby blues as your head whipped around to face him, a soft chuckle vibrating against your back as you pouted at him half-heartedly. 

“Vincent! You startled me!”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I really wanted to hold you like this all of a sudden.” 

Your pout morphing into a smile, you leaned back into his hold and tilted your head to meet his lips in a sweet kiss. He would definitely have to hold you like this more often. It gave him perfect access to kiss all the sweet spots of your neck and jaw and nibble at your ear.

Fourth, when she’s scared, protect her and make her feel safe with you.

Vincent had never been one to condone any sort of violence, but this was different, this was an exception. No one was allowed to harm a single hair on your head.

He’d gone shopping with you one day, hoping to buy some new paints while you bought groceries. Vincent left you alone for ten minutes at the most, ducking into the art supply store across the street as you bought fresh produce from the market. What he hadn’t expected was to find you cornered in an alley with two rough-looking street urchins hovering over you when he came looking for you. 

The moment he saw you pressed up against the stone wall, glaring and struggling as dirty hands reached for you, he moved into action, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The only reason why he bothered to maintain his shaky hold on his control as he tore the two men away from you was because you were watching and he didn’t want to scare you. Vincent could handle getting his hands dirty for a few seconds longer. What he couldn’t handle was you being scared of him. The thought alone was nearly enough to break him. 

“Angel?” Turning to you, he opened his arms just in time to catch you as you rushed into them, pressing your face into his chest and taking a steadying breath. “Did they hurt you?” he asked softly, pivoting so that his body shielded you from the moaning figures lying in the gutter. His hands trailed over you softly, checking for injuries even as he tried to calm you through touch. 

“No. I-I’m okay,” you choked, shaking your head. “They just startled me.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

“Don’t apologize.” Looking up, you took another huff of breath, a slight tremble forming in your limbs even as you did your best to smile for him. “You came just in time, Vincent.”

“Thank goodness...” His arms tightening around you protectively, he cradled your head to his chest with one hand while the other drew circles into your back, trying to soothe your trembling.

“Thank you for saving me, Vincent.”

He chuckled softly, relief coursing through him. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you.”  

To him, your fear was unacceptable, and if he could always be your safety as he was now, holding you close and protected, then there was little else he could ask for.

Fifth, when you see her start to cry, just hold her and don’t say a word.

He didn’t know why you were crying. Maybe you were homesick for your previous life? Gotten insulted by Theo one too many times? Just had a frustrating day? He didn’t know, but he did know that you were crying and he had to do something to make it better. Every quiet sniffle formed a new crack in his heart, threatening to shatter it and send him into tears of his own if he didn’t heal whatever sadness was plaguing you.

Vincent could tell you trying to be quiet, hiding yourself away in a part of the garden where you thought no one would find you to release your pain, but he had found you anyway, drawn here in his search for you. His heart had immediately fallen when he’d heard your soft cries, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, standing just out of your line of sight. 

He wanted to go to you, to comfort you and give you strength. The only problem was...he didn’t know what to say. He could start by asking what was wrong, but for some reason that seemed wrong to him. Vincent didn’t want to make you talk about your troubles when all you wanted was comfort. He knew better than anyone what it was like to have feelings you couldn’t put a name too, the kinds of feelings that made you want to tear your heart out for the pain and sadness that was every waking moment, and he knew what it was like not to have anyone who really understood what it was like.

Just like that, he knew the best thing he could say to you was nothing at all. 

Stepping towards you, you failed to notice him until his arms were already around you, lifting you up a settling you in his lap where he cradled you against his chest. 

“V-Vince-”

“Shh...You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you.” Without further hesitation, you buried your face into his shirt, your sobs muffled as you released everything from within the safety of the arms of the man you loved.

Pressing his cheek to the top of your head, he let you continue to cry, waiting patiently for the time when your tears would dry and you would want to talk to him about whatever had caused you so much pain. It didn’t matter how long it would take though, because he wasn’t going to move, wasn’t going to say a word. He would stay just like this for however long it took for you to heal.

Sixth, when she tells you she loves you, she really does more than you understand.

“Vincent!”

He turned at the sound of his angel’s voice, lowering his paintbrush as he watched you race across the meadow towards him. You’d taken him out here for a picnic and enjoy all the flowers that were coming into bloom. It was the perfect setting to paint, so he’d brought his supplies while you had brought a book to read while he worked. 

“What is it, (y/n)? Do you need something?”

You giggled, leaning up to place a soft kiss to his cheek. “No! I just wanted to tell you that I love you!”

His couldn’t have stopped smiling even if he wanted to, dropping his brush and palette in favor of wrapping his arms around you and picking you up to spin you around a couple of times. You’d told him you loved him so many times already, but it never failed to make him happier than he’d ever felt in this life or the previous. Each time he heard it his happiness increased exponentially. Even so, he could barely believe it as it was. Someone as bright and amazing as you loved him. You had given up everything that waited for you in your time for him. If that wasn’t a testament to how much you loved him, he didn’t know what was.

At the same time, as you looked down at him and brushed a hand against his pale cheek, you knew there was no way he could possibly guess how much you loved him. Never would you have dreamed that you would find the love of your life in the past, but now that you had him you were never going to let go. You would give up a hundred lifetimes in the present just to stay with him for one. There was no one else like him and there never would be. And even though he still didn’t love himself as much as you wished he would, you were getting there together. You had plenty of love to shower him with in the meantime.

Leaning down, you met his waiting lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling against him as you kissed him again and again and again. 

“I love you, too,” he murmured between kisses, sinking into the grass with you, his painting long forgotten.

There was still a lot he didn’t know about romance, but he was learning more with every day he loved you.

[mythiica]

Reader x Theodorus Van Gogh {IkeVam}  - Do it For Me

Title: Do it For Me Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Character: Theodorus Genre: winkwonk Warnings: smirks Kinks: (might have stalked your kinktober) dirty talk, blowjob, hair pulling, body worship, marking, name calling (babygirl), wall sex (does that count as a kink??)  Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience Word Count: ~1400 words POV: second person Other comments: secret santa for @akirafanarts​​ for @ikevamp-holiday-exchange​! I recommend that you listen to the inspiration song: Do it For Me by Rosenfeld before reading, just so you get an idea of the sultry-ness of it~ enjoy!!! 

Show me how Show me how you like it done You're all mine I'll make you feel like you're the one

How could you resist teasing him in front of the other vampires? Theodorus made it especially easy when the two of you sat in the main foyer to have a casual discussion with the others. 

         There was no other spot available, so you invited yourself to sit on Theo’s lap… the squirming and grinding might have been a bit exaggerated, but only because you knew that it would lead to this moment.   

         Now, his hands brush over you, nimble fingers hooking in every crevice of your bodice as he attempts to disrobe you as quickly as possible. Every time his lips graze your bare skin, you feel a ripple of hot breath washing over you, reminding you of his promises to punish you if you misbehaved. 

         “Admit it, you’ve been a bad girl…”

         Theodorus laces his digits over your throat as you feel his sharp canines grazing your pulse. Heart pounding furiously, you mewl playfully and nod. There is no use in denying the truth anymore, so the words tumble from your lips: “Please, Theo… teach me a lesson.” 

         “Oh? Is that what you want?” 

         You take his other hand and guide it across the tight fabric of your corset. “Yes… Like this…”        

Take off your clothes Give me your trust Look me in the eyes and confess your lust Get on your knees Beg me to stop

         Theodorus calls upon his vampiric strength and rips it open, buttons flying in every direction. Your breasts spill outwards, but he is quick to catch them in his large palms. “You’re still wearing a lot of layers…” The next moment, his index finger hooks at the elastic of your skirt, and he pulls it back until it smacks against your hip. 

         You yelp, but squirm slightly until you manage to strip yourself completely. Spinning around, Theo pulls you flush against his chest, your nipples grinding against his jacket as you search out the delicious friction. 

         If you could, you would continue to roll your body against his until he takes control of you, but Theodorus has other plans – he catches your chin firmly with two fingers and holds you in place so that you look at him. 

         His lips are bright red from the feverous kisses you gave him, and when he runs his tongue over them, you go weak to the knees. Theo keeps you on your feet with a hand around your waist, and he smirks devilishly. 

         He does not need to ask you for it; you confess willingly. “Theo, please take me–“ 

         Happy with this, Theodorus pushes you down with a tenderness you are not expecting. You take the opportunity to fuss with the buckles at his trousers until the fall limply to the ground. With the pants out of the way, you have a full view of his erection as it fights against the seam of his underwear. Freeing him of the garment, you wrap your fingers around his length and lean forward to kiss him. 

         Theo throws his head back and moans; the wetness of your mouth feels amazing as you run your lips up and down his hard cock. He faithfully resists the urge to buck into your mouth and instead works at the many buttons of his shirt. 

Give me your hand I'll show you things you've never done Hold my head I'll make you feel like never before

         You take as much of his member as you can, saliva pooling in your mouth, when you see a flash of white flying off in the other direction. Theo’s hand traces your jaw as you look up at him with big eyes, and then he follows the curve of your shoulder down until he pulls your hand up to rest on his hips. 

         “Yes… like that…” 

         He’s never asked you to do that before, but you rather like it. With one hand, you pump the base of his cock while you knead his skin with the other. Sloppily sucking at his tip, you hold your mouth open to show him the mixture of saliva and precum in your mouth before you let it drip onto his length. Using the concoction as lubricant, you begin to pump him rapidly – so much so that Theo grips your hand tightly and wavers slightly. 

         Taking a step back to balance himself, Theodorus strings his fingers through your hair and tugs sharply. It does not hurt, in fact you rather like it, so you let out a loud moan that he quickly silences by pressing the tip of his cock against your lips. 

         He cums quickly, also something that has not happened before. The white drops form a necklace on your collarbone, and Theo’s eyes flash with lust as he admires the mess. 

         “Please fuck me now–“ 

         “Since you asked nicely… I’ll make sure that you are sore tomorrow!” 

         You make your way up slowly, swirling your tongue over every ripple of his muscles. Worshiping his body has always been one of Theodorus’ kinks, so you make sure to kiss every inch of his skin and praise him for how handsome he is. He runs a hand through his hair, blush dusting his cheeks, and smiles at you softly. 

         You are finally on your feet, but not for long because Theo presses you against the wall and brings your legs up around his waist. Holding on tightly, you bury your face against his neck and hold his head with a hand. He grunts while grinding against your wet folds. 

         When Theodorus does enter you, your muscles relax, and you fall back in pleasure. He is still hard despite cumming already, and his cock fills you perfectly, stretching your walls to the point that you know you will indeed be sore. 

         He does not hesitate to begin thrusting into you. Sweat runs down his brow, and hair curls over his eyes, so you pull it back and kiss him deeply. Theo’s tongue runs over your lips, and he nips you enough to surprise you. 

         The floor under the two of you creaks, but you barely hear it over the sound of skin slapping skin. Your thighs are red from the impact of his pelvis, but Theo is far from done marking you. 

Say my name All I wanna do is hear you scream

         With your body pinned under his, Theo dips his head down to kiss your collarbone and neck, tongue lapping over your sensitive skin as you wait for him to bite you. 

         “I know you want it… but you have to say my name first…” 

         “Theodorus!” you cry with no shame. Your voice rings out in the room, and there is no doubt that someone outside heard it. “Theo, my love, please bite me…  mark me… make me yours!”

         He loves the sound of your voice, and he indulges you. The moment his teeth pierce your skin, you feel the trickle of crimson running down your skin. Theo laps at it and smiles against your neck before biting you again, this time softer. He leaves a rainbow of hickeys across your chest and neck, making you moan with pleasure every time. 

         His thrusts slow down, but he still manages to reach the spots that make you convulse – your walls are numb but still clench around his cock, making him twitch against you. 

         A string of incoherent words falls from your lips, so Theo kisses you deeply. “Babygirl… you’re rather cute like this.” 

         Looking up at Theo, you smile weakly and drag your nails across his shoulders. It is your wordless way to ask him to let you cum. He understands perfectly and teethes on your earlobe before thrusting into you until you cum. 

         He follows you quickly, the warmth of his love spreading through your body. You want to moan and scream at the same time, but Theo’s tongue finds yours faster, leaving you to hum happily against his mouth. 

I promise I'll love you if you do it So do it for me

[incorrect-ikemen-quotes]

IkeVam Secret Santa 2019!

This is a gift for @aeongiie for @ikevamp-holiday-exchange~ hope you enjoy this edited scene with Theo, MC, and Arthur 💖

[creations-of-a-certain-no-one]

IkeVamp Holiday Exchange - Sleepy with Napoleon!

Made for @ikevamp-holiday-exchange​ - I hope you like it, @yan-ni!

When I was deciding the theme and settled for some holiday mood, I definitely underestimated how difficult this drawing will be, but fortunately managed to save it from all the mess-ups!

[ikevamp-holiday-exchange]

2019 Ikevamp Holiday Exchange!

Happy holiday season everyone! This year, the first year that our lovely vampire men have graced us with their presence in English, let’s hold a Holiday Exchange!!!

🎁 What It Is 🎁

A secret santa-styled exchange. You sign up by filling out a form specifying your tastes, and the exchange mods assign you a person to create a fanwork for by a specific due date - and someone out there creates one for you as well!

🎁 The Rules 🎁

Your piece must pertain to the Ikemen Vampire fandom

The final day to sign up is November 12th (by 11:59pm PST)

Any fanwork is acceptable! That means fiction, art, edits, fanmixes, fanvids, handcrafts, etc...anything

Partners will be assigned via email or Tumblr ask/DM on November 15th (by 11:59pm PST)

The deadline for submitting/confirming your piece is finished is January 3rd (by 11:59pm PST) (this allows us time to cover/create something if you were unable to finish your piece, so that no one is left out in the cold)

Pieces will be posted on this blog or reblogged from your own January 7th (by 11:59pm PST) - DO NOT POST YOUR PIECE UNTIL THIS DAY, TO KEEP THEM A SURPRISE!

The person you are assigned to create for will not be the person creating something for you! Think of it as more of a round-robin than a direct exchange.

You can choose to either submit your work to this blog and have us post it + tag your recipient and yourself, or you can post it to your own blog and tag it with your recipient and ‘#2019ikevampholidayexchange’ so that they and we may find it and reblog it here for posterity!

Follow this blog for updates and progress reminders!

If you are interested in participating, please fill out this form so that we can match you with an appropriate partner - and please reblog this post and spread the word, so we can get as many members as possible! 

🎅 Lets make this a fun and exciting event for everyone in the fandom! 🎅

[ceet]

He got lost in the sunflower patch looking for the prettiest one to give to you. 🌻

A belated happy holidays to @hvdra00! And thank you to @ikevamp-holiday-exchange for hosting this event!

[kashimalin-fanfiction]

Skating Tricks and Peppermint Sticks (Arthur Conan Doyle/Reader)

Summary: Arthur and you head out ice skating, and you find that you don’t forget as much as you thought you did. Despite that, Arthur tries to convince you to hold onto him.

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle/Reader

Count: 1,729 Words

Rating: General

Warnings: None.

Part of the Secret Santa Event for @ikevamp-holiday-exchange​!

My gift is for @pkmnmstrchf​ , and thank you for joining the event so that I could write something for you! This fic has also been posted over on AO3!

“Careful that your skirt doesn’t catch too many wandering eyes.” Arthur grins as the two of you walk towards a park just outside of the city.

“I’m not going to catch any eyes by showing my boots,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Besides, if I wore a full-length dress or skirt, I bet I would have even more trouble skating!” Lifting your skirt up as you walk, you frown at the heavy wool material – but cannot deny it is doing a spectacular job of keeping you warm. “But I’m sure I’ll do just fine in this.”

“I can’t wait. You haven’t given me a solid answer on whether you’re a good skater or not.”

“That’s because I haven’t done it in a while, and we’re going on a pond! Who knows what the ice will be like?”

“It will be much less crowded than some of those fancy indoor places, that’s for sure.”

“What? Paris has an indoor rink in this time period?!”

“You bet. Place is probably mighty crowded right about now, so you’ll be grateful we’re coming here.” Arthur and you sit down on a bench by the pond, taking your skates out of their bags. You gaze out at the ice as you remove your boots and slowly tie your first skate, the thought of heading out on the ice exciting you.

“Look at the ladies on the sleighs,” you say, pointing. “Do you think they’re having fun?”

“It certainly looks like they’re warm, all decked out in warm furs and the like.” Arthur grins as he stands, his skates already laced. “But would you have fun being pushed around on one of those things?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then let’s hurry up and get those skates tied!” He kneels down, lifting your foot and deftly lacing your other skate up. You pout at him as you stand, swaying slightly to find your balance. His hand takes yours as you walk to the edge of the pond, helping you keep steady.

“Watch this!” You shake off his hand as you step out onto the ice. Without a wall or support for guidance, you are on your own for staying upright – and within seconds, your skirt tangles about your legs, causing you to stumble.

As if seeing an opportunity, Arthur comes up by your side and catches your arm. “Do you need to hold onto me while you skate? Perhaps assist you with a bit of a refresher course?”

“Nope!” You push off from him, skating forward a few more paces – and it doesn’t take long for your muscle memory to kick in and adjust. Speeding away from Arthur, you weave through the families and couples without a care, sticking to the perimeter just in case you need to fall against the snowy banks.

Arthur catches up after a minute or two of skating separately, spinning about on one foot in order to face you. “Well, you’ve rightly proven yourself a good skater. Can we at least hold hands now?”

You flash him a mischievous smile before propelling yourself forward and skating around him. His laughter rings in your ears as he skates up alongside you, showing off an elegant one-foot glide and turning about. You lift your skirts up slightly and show off your own glide, easily lifting your foot to your knee with little sway or upset.

“Trying to show off talent and skin now, are we?”

“I’ve got stockings on, Arthur!” You blush, letting your feet and skirts fall back to the ice. He laughs, but you continue to frown at him. It doesn’t take long for him to notice, and his words come out in a rush.

“I do think you’ve got quite a knack for this thing. I mean it.”

“No, it’s not about that. It’s just – it’s easier to skate in my time. Ice rinks are these big indoor buildings where the ice is always smooth. I could skate in pants or tights. That makes moving around a lot easier.”

Arthur whistles, but you make a face at him and intend to skate away – but before you can, Arthur reaches out and takes your hand.

“I’m sorry, my dear.” Regret mars his handsome features, and he slows his pace to keep you with him. “I seem to be unable to make you laugh. How might I make it up to you before we finish skating?”

“Well…” You ponder the thought only briefly, knowing exactly what you want. “… You could let me hold your arm while we skate. I’m willing to do that, so long as you stop waiting for me to make a mistake.”

“Then allow me the honour.” Extending his arm and allowing you to happily loop your hand through, Arthur follows your cue as you skate around the ice. “It’s good to have you near to warm me up – here I thought I would die from the chill!”

“It’s not that cold, Arthur. Don’t exaggerate. I just wanted to skate on my own for a bit before we came together!”

He laughs merrily, letting you guide him in a swaying pattern through the crowd. You both catch sight of a father letting go of his son’s hands and taking a couple steps back – and the boy falls dramatically on his face. He gets back up with little hesitation, trying once more to reach his father’s arms.

"Little buggers really can take anything before they bounce back, can’t they?” Arthur comments, watching as the two reunite and as the son begs to do it again.

“A lot of children skate from a young age in my time,” you say, leaning against him. “They have to if they want to do anything competitive in skating and enter tournaments or go to the Olympics.”

“Oh? – Oh! You’ve just reminded me! Those are going to start up soon! The Olympics! They’ll even be in Paris before long!”

"Really?”

“Really. Quite sure the Paris one will be at the turn of the century in 1900. And they’ll be adding figure skating when it heads to London in some odd years. I remember all the excitement about them coming to our country instead of being hosted in Italy.” He sighs at the thought, glancing down at you. “We could go to both of them, if you would like. I’m sure Le Comte will be trying to drag us all to the Paris Olympics, regardless of whether we want to or not.”

Your eyes sparkle at the idea, your smile beaming. “That would be amazing! Could we really go?”

“Of course we could! Just don’t let me forget, will you?”

“No way!”

“Right then. Now that that’s sorted, let’s get you off the ice.” He taps your nose. “You’re looking chilled. What do you say to coffee?”

“It sounds lovely.” Arthur hums at your agreement and leads you both off the ice, escorting you to sit down on the bench once more. He tuts as you start to lift your leg, and you look up at him. Arthur places a quick kiss to your red nose before crouching down, undoing your laces. “Allow me.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” you say, but he does both your skates before sitting next to you and untying his own. Trading your skates for boots and packing them away, you set off for the nearest café. Within minutes, you are seated comfortably inside, your coats hung up nearby and the skates tucked beneath Arthur’s chair.

“Arthur, look!” You point to something on the menu. His face scrunches up as he reads it.

“I bring you here to get warm, and you want to order ice cream?! I’m just going to get a coffee.” He flips the menu back onto the table. “Piping hot, I hope.”

Someone comes over and takes your orders – black coffee for Arthur, and a peppermint coffee and vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup for you.

“What in blazes is a peppermint coffee?” Arthur asks.

“The menu said it’s just coffee with some sweet syrup and a peppermint stick. It’s probably not the same as the one I’m used to, but I want to try it, even if I have to add milk and sugar.”

“That’s not coffee anymore. I’ve got no idea what the hell it is, but it’s not coffee.”

“It most certainly is coffee! It’s going to be made with coffee beans and will be just like the kind at home, except mine’s going to have some nice things added to it.”

“With all of that stuff in it, your drink’s going to be more sugar than caffeine.”

The two of you continue to bicker back and forth over what constitutes a “coffee” until your order arrives. The coffee is piping hot, a little peppermint stick nestled in yours. The bowl of ice cream is a complete opposite to your drinks, the chocolate syrup cooling on top of the chilled dessert. A sugar bowl and milk jug set is placed between the two of you, and you reach for them immediately.

“Absolutely detestable,” Arthur says, peering into your mug as he takes a sip of his coffee. “And you’re even using the darned thing to stir your sugar in!”

“What?” You continue to stir with the peppermint stick, frowning. “It’s cute and meant to be used.”

Arthur makes a face and takes another hearty sip, already mulling on whether or not he will need a refill before you depart.

“Come on.” You hold out your mug towards him. “Just try it?”

He looks dubious, but reaches out nonetheless, taking the slightest of sips before passing it back. “It’s got a bit of a kick to it, sure, but that’s definitely more sugar than coffee. Can’t believe I just drank that.”

“Thank you for trying it. I’ll buy you some fudge on the way home in return for your taking us out skating, going to a café, and trying this. All right?”

“… Sounds like a plan.” He leans back in his chair as you tuck into your ice cream and not-coffee, his legs bumping against yours under the table. A content smile rises to his lips as he watches you eat, the happy flutter in his chest reminding him that, no matter where you are, there is no place he would rather be than at your side.

[akirafanarts]

Faust - Ikémen Vampire

Heyyy @jennacat84 👋 I’m your secret santa for @ikevamp-holiday-exchange!! Hope you enjoyed your holidays!! Look who’s here to wish you a wonderful new year ahead 😉😊 💕

Hope you like your gift 🙇🏻‍♀️❣️

[rokutouxei]

lips against his mouth

ikemen vampire: temptations in the dark arthur conan doyle / mc (avril) | T for language | 2902 | [ao3] somehow even if you know you’ll always lose the game to arthur, you keep playing. losing is worth it anyway. | @ikevamp-holiday-exchange happy holidays, @littlelady-blackwell, I hope this is to your taste!

Holiday season in the mansion was nothing less than as extravagant as its master. In truth, the celebration was less for the religious significance, and more for the sheer luxury of it—one that Le Comte would not dare miss out on. 

While the untouched-by-time duo expressed no exact preference for their meal, the rather interesting mix of cultures of the other mansion residents led to a very colorful spread on the table—among many other dishes, some Kerststol for the Dutch brothers, some foie gras and caviar for the French soldiers, some dainty wagashi for the Japanese author, a variety of puddings and pies for the two Englishmen, some Glühwein as requested rather curtly by the musician, and, mostly for the humor of the time-slipped cook of the night, the closest he could get to his hometown’s favorite Christmas meal: take-out fried chicken cooked with 11 secret herbs and spices.

You beam. “Well, seems like our work here is done.”

“We made a good team, I think.”

You and Sebastian started your preparations long before the sun rose, and your hands were full with work from that moment on. But now that you’ve finally finished plating all the multiple courses of the multiple cuisines of multiple meals, it seemed very much worth it. A beautiful aroma—just about the smell of Christmas, gingerbread, pine cones, cinnamon—wafts from the dessert tray waiting on the side like a blessing, enticing people toward the beautifully laid table with everything from soups and salads to a beautifully carved duck.

At exactly six o’clock, the mansion residents slowly made their way out of their rooms and into the dining hall, each one marveling at the feast in front of them.

The dinner is, of course, nothing short of a success. Le Comte applauds both you and Sebastian for a job well done, and everyone is munching happily on the comfort Christmas food in between sips of wine and rouge. At some point, Vincent shares a story about Christmases with his family when he was much younger, and Mozart—in a drunken half-stupor—also interjects with a few of his own stories. The holiday cheer envelops the entire room, but something is missing, and you desperately try to fill it by being busy half-listening half- trying to shove a bit of everything on the table onto your plate.

Until he arrives, at last.

At first you don’t pay attention to him. Vincent and Dazai greet him rather happily when he enters—“Christmases are better when you’re complete,” Vincent says with a happy hum—but he doesn’t make a move to approach you. When you sneak a peek, he’s piling up with some pudding and a slice of an apple pie he’s surely saved to give for Isaac, based on how it’s placed on his plate. But you don’t raise your voice, don’t bring it up, just continue to focus on the flow of conversation, and now it’s Napoleon talking about Christmas masses at the Notre Dame. Not today, you tell yourself, you won’t give him what he wants.

Until he begs for it.

“Well hello love, fancy seeing you here.”

In a moment he has one arm slung around your shoulder, and his bangs brush against the soft of your cheek. You don’t even turn to look when you answer. “Why are you late? Where were you?”

“Why, if you’re that cross at me, I can imagine you’d be furious at how old chap Theo isn’t here yet either,” Arthur says.

“At least he had the decency to tell me he’d be out late tonight for a client thing,” you bite back. When you turn to Arthur and he only grins back, you push a large bite of kerststol into his open mouth before turning away again. “I’m not listening to your excuses. Finish your food.”

“Little bird, don’t be upset.” He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, and he sounds so concerned your little faux anger is starting to thaw at the edges. “I went to get you a present. And a game.”

One thing you hate—because you are absolutely weak to it—is when Arthur relies on a moment of vulnerability to get you to turn to his side. Every damn time he does this, you insist this is some sort of manipulation, but on the other hand Arthur likes to call it “an act of love.” Today, Arthur relents by pressing his chin against your shoulder rather softly, and winding his hands around your waist.

Oh, drat.

“I’m not upset,” you finally relent. You lost that one from the start. “But a game? What game?”

The face Arthur makes—half-grin, half-smirk—only spells trouble.

But that’s the face you fell in love with, and if you were ride or die with it ‘til the end.

“You know how Le Comte has lived a bloody long time now, right?” Arthur begins. “Now, I was snooping around once—no need to ask why—but I found this nice old bottle of Chartreuse in the cellar. Not just aged old, but straight-from-the-first-ever-casks-made old. Authentic antique stuff. Probably taste like god’s alcohol. Thought I’d come back for it some other day, but I never really got to, and based on my last look at Le Comte’s room, he hasn’t taken it up with him yet. So it should still be there.”

You know where this is going, but you’d rather confirm the crime first. “So what do we do?”

“Simple: we find the bottle, and we drink it,” Arthur says. “But not just drink it, we play a game with it. When—and I say when—we find that bottle, we play truth or drink. First one to get drunk loses.”

“You don’t have the best alcohol tolerance, Arthur.”

“Neither do you, and that’s why I’m betting on mine.”

“Fine,” you surrender. Only a few minutes with him and it seems like he always has the upper hand. And yet somehow you don’t dislike that. “But the one who doesn’t find the bottle gets a glass headstart.”

He grins, gesturing toward the unattended door. “That’s what I like about you, pet. Let’s go.”

-

Because life is unfair and you are not the mind behind legendary detective Sherlock Holmes, Arthur finds the bottle before you. He hums happily as he pulls out the dark Chartreuse bottle out from the shelf, leaving you astounded in front of the white wine bottles. He says something about knowing the year Chartreuse was made and the order everything was arranged, but that doesn’t matter anyway because you’ve lost.

Luckily, he doesn’t doom the both of you into drinking in the cellar, so after carrying out a pair of beer bottles and also one with red wine, the both of you make your way to the garden, settling under the gazebo, the only light the dim glow from the mansion and tiny specks of starlight. You place the beautiful crystal glasses you’ve “borrowed” from the little feast on the table and Arthur pops open the drink.

“This isn’t the only reason you took us down here, is it?” you ask him, as he pours some Chartreuse—a beautiful green-yellow liquid that smells amazing.

“Is it so bad I want to have my lady alone to myself on Christmas Eve?” he says as he finishes pouring his own glass. “How about a toast to a wonderful holiday?”

You do a toast and drink under the night sky, faintly hearing the bustle from inside the dining hall. Arthur turns towards you and gives you a look.

“Would you rather be back inside with the rest of them?”

You pause for a full moment—just to mess with him; you see his expression slowly shift—before answering, “No, I’d rather be out here with you.”

“Golly, sure like to give me a heart attack, don’t you?” he chuckles. Then he turns towards you with a glint in his eyes. “Let’s play the game, Avril.”

-

The penalty of single glass of Chartreuse headstart? That hit hard. After you downed it you immediately regretted saying it in the first place. What kind of confidence did you have in that moment that you’d find the bottle first anyway? It was Arthur who saw the bottle before you even began. He was bound to win. But a game is a game and it must be played.

You swirl the Chartreuse on your glass and turn to Arthur.

“Since I had the first glass, you answer first.”

“Sure,” he says, tilting his empty glass towards you.

“Let’s start with something simple,” you consider. “After you turned into a vampire, what thing was the hardest change for you?”

“Oh, those kinds of questions. I was thinking the naughtier kind.”

You glare at him. “Hey, you don’t have a say on the questions I ask. Just the answers. C’mon.”

“Well,” he pauses. “I think the one that took a while to adjust to was the food. Or rather how it wasn’t needed anymore. Sure, Sebas cooks meals as normal, but it’s not the same kind of satisfying as with, say, humans eating food. Rather like a vice, really: enjoyable, but otherwise rather empty.”

You frown, thinking of the plates and plates of food you’ve eaten with Arthur. “But it’s not as bleak as you make it out to be, is it? It’s still pleasant, right?”

“Of course it is!” he says. “Especially when it’s with you.”

The smile returns to your face. “Okay, your turn.”

“How experienced are you when it comes to sex?”

You feel your face flush bright red, and this isn’t the alcohol, you’re sure. “What?”

“No objections allowed on the questions,” Arthur says, mirroring your answer earlier.

You huff. “And then what? You’re going to get jealous and blame me for it?”

“That’s assuming there’s anything I can be jealous of?” he hums. “I already have you. Why would I still be jealous?”

You look hesitantly at Arthur, and he points at the Chartreuse bottle as if saying, if you don’t trust me, then drink? But you do trust him, you do, and that’s the hard part. You sigh in defeat and whisper a vague detail in his ear, something just enough to sate his interest and nothing in gory detail. You squeeze your hands on your lap. Your greatest worry is that he judges you, after all.

But he only smiles at you. “Interesting! Thank you for entertaining my little curiosity.”

You are filled with relief. “Why were you so curious about it anyway?”

He shrugs. “Just wanted to know where you learned to be like that.”

You’re sure all your blood has now rushed to your cheeks. “Arthur!”

“Yes, yes, okay, I’m stopping,” he laughs, shrugging you off. “Your turn.”

“Next time ask a better question,” you say while pouting. You consider your next question as a point of counterattack. “Oh, oh, I have a good one.” You raise your glass towards him. “I know you were always chasing after ‘little skirts’ and all, and you’ve made an entire living out of it in the past—”

“I did not! Who said that?”

“—but my point is, have you ever—even just tried—to be with a dude? Even just once!”

Arthur considers this for a full moment, pursing his lips and even running his tongue over it, before he takes the Chartreuse bottle and begins to fill his glass up. Your jaw goes slack.

“Really? You’re drinking to that?”

“Some men have to keep their secrets, you know.”

“I won’t judge you, Arthur.”

“I know you won’t,” he says, before he downs the contents of the glass. “But this relationship would benefit from a bit of mystery, don’t you think? Besides, this game is no fun if no one drinks.”

“Fine,” you say, relaxing back into your seat. “Your turn.”

“Okay. What’s the thing you like best about me?” Arthur asks.

In that instant, you can think of a million answers, and listing them would maybe take you forever, but you decide the best one to say is nothing, so you pour some Chartreuse into your glass.

He pouts. “Now you’re doing that just to spite me.”

“So what if I am?”

“Oh, I’ll find a way you’ll tell me, one way or another,” Arthur concedes, and you only smile as you take your drink.

You don’t know how long the two of you sit out there drinking, but if the moon was any indicator, as it soared across the night sky, then you’ve spent a good amount of time out here. The questions don’t run out, from the mundane to the absolutely scandalous, firing at each other, seeking outrageous answers with the confidence of a drunk man on remembering what occurred overnight. At some point you switch from drinking as a penalty to drinking for the fun of it, and it doesn’t take long for the Chartreuse to go empty, and so Arthur pops open the next bottle, and the next. Luckily, the tipsiness doesn’t hit you enough to make you black out, just very gooey on the edges, and eventually you end up lying with your head on his lap. By this time you’ve given up the glasses for drinking straight from the bottle—“like a real pirate!”—which you alternate taking swigs out from.

Tongue loose, you look at Arthur’s blue, blue eyes and smile softly. “Hey, you know that thing you asked earlier?”

“Mm?”

“About what thing I liked about you?”

He pouts again. “Yeah, you refused to answer it.”

“No, no, no, baby, don’t pout,” you say, reaching out for his face. “There’s a reason for it. And it’s because I didn’t want to tire my tongue out talking. Because it’s everything.” You feel a grin form on his face. Taking this as a sign of approval, you begin to babble. “I like you. You know how weird it is to be this attracted to someone? Even I didn’t think I could fall in love like this. Just completely, fully, over-the-moon… ugh. I love you. I love all of you. Every single square inch of you, even your big, big, big, big”—a moment to consider—“brain.”

Arthur clears his throat and gives you a knowing smirk, to which the two of you laugh.

“Baby,” you coo. “I have another question.”

“What is it?”

You take a moment as if considering your question, but then realize there is nothing you have to fear when you have Arthur next to you. You stare at him with eyes filled with an infinite love, and ask, “Why did you choose me?”

Taken off-guard by the look on your face, Arthur turns away from you and looks up at the mansion, where he sees the faint shadow of Le Comte and Leonardo talking by the balcony. The party must have long been over by this time. Behind the mansion is a vast black sky, illuminated by the dim blue light of stars.

He begins to stroke your hair with his hands, soothing fingertips smoothing out the strands. You nuzzle against him—nearly purr, like a cat—but don’t insist on the question, don’t rush him, and Arthur doesn’t quite have the courage to look at you yet because he knows if he does he might just burst into vulnerable tears.

What a silly question, he thinks. What does it mean to choose when there are no other options? Sure, he’d been playing around but it wasn’t like he was looking for something like this. He hadn’t expected he’d be able to find something like this at all. Arthur loved the game—and he loved to play it, and he thought he could play it forever and ever and ever.

He couldn’t. He didn’t want to, anymore.

So no. There were no options. But that doesn’t mean that he had only chosen you because there was no one else. It was how he did not want anyone else. No one had passed the test. No one else had the qualifications. There was an entrance exam to Arthur’s heart and you had aced every single assessment.

But even that wasn’t right. You didn’t go out of your way to seek him out or romance him. It was all rather… organic. You weren’t just a hopeful, you weren’t some sort of candidate. You weren’t a selection on a list. You never were.

Arthur’s voice hides deep inside his voicebox like a scared mouse, like if he dares make a sound he’ll be found out. But he knows these are words that deserve to be heard. So he says it.

“I didn’t choose you, little bird,” he finally dares to say, his voice small and weak like it’ll crumble, with the bottle’s lips against his mouth, “It was you who had chosen me.”

But by the time this answer leaves his mouth you had long fallen into the realm of sleep, snoring lightly and rather adorably on his lap. Not that it matters, Arthur thinks, as he finishes the rest of the bottle and stares out at the sprawling garden. He doesn’t even need alcohol, the next time. He’ll say it again and again and again if you ask.

Tomorrow he’ll give you your Christmas gift. But he knows that no matter what he gives, it will never match the gift you have given him in allowing to be his.

[hallowsivy]

Hot Cocoa For You

Merry belated Christmas and a happy new year to you @miss-cellophane-mc​ Here’s a pipin’ hot cup o’ cocoa from Mozart to warm you up this winter day. 

Thanks to @ikevamp-holiday-exchange​ for hosting this lovely event!

[sintheyokai]

Sweet Treat by the Fire

My work for the Ikevamp Holiday Exchange held by @ikevamp-holiday-exchange

For: @vauletir

Suitor: Vlad x MC (and yes, we will call her MC, you can replace it with your name if desired)

Rating: Comically Fluffy

---

Well this was an adorable sight.

Vlad had resisted the urge to chuckle at the sight of their prisoner snuggling against Marshmallow on the stone floor near the fireplace, blazing red.

"Did Charles let you out? Or did you convince my precious pet?"

MC jumped, startled and quickly standing up. "Sorry!" she exclaimed, "I'll... I'll go back. I was just-just warming up."

Vlad let out a soft chuckle before sitting next to the girl. He wrapped his cloak around her, the feathers lining the top tickling her neck. Giggling, MC subconsciously leaned into the pureblood's warm body. He felt his cheeks warm, and he smiled softly.

"This would be perfect with a few marshmallows." She muttered, as if dreaming.

"...What?"

"Marshmal-oh. Right, you wouldn't know what those are, would you. Or would you? I mean, you named your pet Marshmallow."

"I only heard the word somewhere, and thought it sounded pleasant.."

"Oh. Well, do you want to see if we can find any?"

Vlad nodded, and the two heard a clanging of metal and a loud plop behind them.

Looking behind Vlad, she saw a small bag of the mentioned sweets and a few metal sticks. With it came a note that simply said:

Say no more MC. Author-sama's got you.

Confused, but grateful for the sweets, MC simply tossed the note into the fire and opened the bag. She pulled out one fluffy treat and held it out to Vlad.

"This is a marshmallow. You can eat it like this," she shoved the white confectionary into her mouth, "Or..." she grabbed one of the sticks and impaled the white confectionary before holding it over the fire, waiting for it to brown, "You can roast them."

When Vlad remained silent, she glanced over at him to see him, crimson faced, and utterly amazed.

"MC, you're also an impaler?"

Oh.

Right.

She was doing this in front of Vladmir the Impaler

"Well, no, this is just one of the only ways people can roast these where I'm from. Do you want to try it?"

When he nodded furiously, she handed him a stick and a marshmallow.

Unfortunately, his past instincts must have kicked in, as he ended up stabbing the treat till it was nearly at his hand.

"Vlad, not too deep, that's gonna hurt!" MC said.

"Ah. Should I... Should I pull it out a bit?"

"A little? Vlad, it should more like," she slid the sweet puff to the near end of the stick, "That."

"May I do it now?"

"Yes!" MC laughed, amazed at the pureblood's childlike eagerness.

Vlad almost put the marshmallow into the coals in trying to excitedly copy MC.

"How long do I keep it in there?" he asked softly, mesmerized by the flames licking the treat.

"A while, twirling it a bit so that you get everywhere. You want it to be golden brown."

No sooner had she said that, that Vlad's poor marshmallow was set ablaze. There was a silence.

"Vlad, blow it out, it's gonna burn!"

The vampire obediently blew out the flaming treat, the white completely burnt into a blistered black crust.

"Shame." He said with a sad undertone, "I was hoping to eat it."

"I mean..." MC trailed, "You still can! It's just... you're gonna taste a lot of burnt sugar first."

With a noise of acknowledgement, Vlad took a bite, the white, sticky, gooiness stringing as he pulled away.

"Mm! That's delicious, MC!"

She smiled. God, he was such a child.

"May I make more?" he asked. Giggling, MC nodded.

"Of course! We'll have a sweet treat by the fire. Just you and me."

Just for tonight

----

I really hope this was okay

[tsubaki3192]

Christmas Gifts

[Ikevamp Leonardo x MC/Bee]

@3amheartache, Merry Belated Christmas, and I hope you've had a very Happy New Year! (Psst! I'm your secret santa!)

Notes: Ikevamp Holiday Exchange participation! Also, I did get a little confused with the name thing so please let me know if that was what you wanted!

Tags: @3amheartache @ikevamp-holiday-exchange @tsuki-no-usagiii @unstoppablelinda

-------------

You… Weren’t even sure just how it happened.

One morning, nearly two weeks before the date of Christ’s birth (a fact everyone seemed to forget, though apparently not you, even when considering the fact you weren’t Christian-), you had stepped out of your room in search for the perfect Christmas gifts for everyone when your foot, landed upon a letter at the mansion’s doorway.

Addressed to you, of course.

To be fair, you had near-missed the snow-damp envelope, given the fact it was bleached white and partially hidden under the still-falling ice. But you had caught sight of it nonetheless and brought it back inside with you, leaving it to dry by floor of the fireplace.

And yet when you returned from your daily duties later that evening, another gift had been placed delicately on the now-watermarked surface.

To my beloved, the tag read, followed by your name.

And if anything, you had to smile. It was sweet of him to give you little gifts, though you knew exactly who it was that had left it. Leonardo had always been rather thoughtful of you- But this was something new. Two long years of your relationship had brought you here. Two long years of his sweetness and love.

And that was just the beginning.

Your fingertips held the delicately crafted rose, admiring it’s beauty. You twirled it, watching for all the perfect imperfections that made it unique: Little dents here, missable scratches there…. It was handmade, to say the very least. And yet the thin, crimson-metallic sheets wounded and welded together made for the most everlasting flower while it sat on a more solid stem, golden in colour, with green leaves twisted in between.

And it was just something you utterly adored, especially when you considered the fact that you hadn’t seen him for the last few days.

(Truth to be told, you missed him dearly though you would never give him the liberty of knowing, for he would merely endlessly tease you.)

Even then, a smile had graced your features following that, skipping to your room to read the letter in peace.

---------------------------------------

The following week and a half ended almost similarly, and yet you still had not seen your boyfriend. Not once in the 240 hours of 10 days, the 14,400 minutes nor the 864,000 seconds, but hey, who’s counting?

And to add to that, it almost seemed like the entire mansion was in on a secret you weren’t aware of. Their excuses seemed to be stumbled, hurried, as they avoided you at all costs. Well… Except maybe Vincent, Napoleon and Theo (just slightly) and it was a given that Sebastian and Comte would continue to converse with you freely. It wasn’t as if you could avoid them, after all.

And yet-

It was Christmas Eve. The night you would usually spend with your family. And just as you had promised him, this year you had decided to stay behind. To say you were disappointed was simply not enough. Leonardo had promised you time together and you just simply hadn’t received that.

And yet here he was, leaving various gifts around the mansion where he knew you would find.

Your eyes shifted from the window to the lineup of items on your table, each item landing upon the calendar date beneath the glass and sighed with a mixture of contentment and concern.

Just where was he, and what was he up to? You knew you would never find him if you searched. He was far too good at hiding himself from you, though he could find you in a matter of seconds.

But as you rose from the outstretched couch beside the windowsill, a sharp knock came from your door.

------------------------

“Cara mia…”

It was words of endearment that had you leaping from your seat, and your exclamation of “Leonardo!” didn’t hide your partial surprise. How could you, when your eyes shone bright with tears; when your hand flew to your lips in utter surprise? And he just chuckled, the sound sending rather wonderous shivers down your spine.

“You’re always so easy to read….”

Nevertheless, he whisked you into his arms with ease as you finally found your voice to yelp. But he only gazed down at you longingly, before pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Come now,” he started as he pulled away, “we’re going out. But first, I have a few gifts for you.”

“Huh…?”, you uttered, confused. More gifts…?

And gifts they were indeed. A stunning scarlett dress to match your heavy midnight boots. Your hands quietly slipped the silk-like fabric against your torso, shivering at the sensation of the cooling fabric. A small hum of anticipation left your lips as you applied rouge to your lips and jewellery to your ears and neck.

(They were both gifts from him. Never would he allow another man to gift you with such beautiful objects.)

But Leonardo was waiting for you outside, and your chest hummed in anticipation for the evening together. It wasn’t often that he took you out for dates- and when he did, both you and he became sidetracked by the hundreds of admirers your boyfriend held in the palm of his hand.

(It wasn’t as if you didn’t have any admirers either- It remained strange to know that you were the one he chose; the only one he could truly love. And stares of envy and awe would always follow your linked hands.)

The dress’ hem shimmied around your ankles as you twirled in front of the mirror in delight. It really did fit you well. Almost too well, you could say. But there was no time to waste: The night was young and you simply couldn’t wait to begin your date, crossing your fingers with the hope of no interruptions.

-------------

“This place….”

Leonardo had blindfolded you the second you had arrived in the mansion’s foyer, before lifting you into his arms with ease. Naturally, you had yelped in surprise as he hooked his arms beneath your knees and your back, only to relax into his embrace only seconds later. To match your yelp, he released a chuckle if his own, to which you only snuggled closer at the sensation of his vibrating chest.

And he had brought you, by carriage, to a rather stunning restaurant frequented often by counts and high-ranking families in the society. And it just so happened to be one of the few higher-class restaurants you enjoyed.

“Leo, what’s the occasion?”

You had questioned him upon entering the grand doors, but he had given you nothing more than a charming grin as you were permitted through to his table. The host had given you the same (yet somehow different) charming smile at the sight of your extravagant dress. And if anything, you only smile back politely as Leonardo’s possessive grip on your waist tightened and his smile thinned.

“Your table, Monsieur Leonardo.”

Strangely, Leonardo had pulled your chair out for you- something he had never done before. And when you, again, questioned him for his actions, he gave you another loving smile that sent you speechless.

--------------

Leonardo had been silent throughout the entire dinner as he watched you eat, chuckling every so often as he reached over the table to wipe whatever neglected sauce remained on the corner of your lips. And now-

He clasped his hand over your own and brought you to the restaurant’s extravagant garden. Crimson roses lined the paths, overshadowing the neatly trimmed grass and sculptures scattered throughout. And yet from the way his eyes remained on the path before you, he had a very specific destination in mind.

Before long, you arrived at the centre of the garden. A white pagoda sat at the centre, connecting the numerous pathways to it’s centre. But what, perhaps, had caught your attention most was the painting, veiled by a thin section of cloth, standing at the centre of the partially enclosed room. And as you admired the scenery ahead of you, you failed to notice Leonardo’s hand leave yours and fumble through his pockets.

“Bee…”

At the sound of his voice and your name, you turned, to search for him, only to find him on a single knee, a small, also crimson, box in his outstretched hand. Your eyes widened, as the events of the night suddenly pieced itself together.

His silence. His actions. His gifts. His disappearance.

“Everytime I close my eyes, all I can see is you. Everyday, all day, all I think about is you, Cara. Your smile, your voice plagues my mind, tesoro, and I find myself unable to focus on anything that’s not you. These few weeks have been hell…I’m not sure how I’ve managed without you all these years, stellina.”

He paused, and watched your eyes glimmer with hope and fill with tears. And with his empty hand, he reached out to your cheeks to wipe your tears.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say, cara, is ‘Can I be yours, as you will be mine?’ Will you let this soul care for your own? Will you allow this soul make you smile-”

You didn’t even allow him to finish his statement, as his fingers flicked at the contraption that opened the box. Nestled in between the pieces of foam was an intricately designed, silver ring- no doubt of his own creation. Diamonds, large and small, glittered brightly from their positions beneath the moonlight.

Your arms flew around his neck, whispering through silent tears, “Yes!”

Smiling gently at you, he slipped the ring to your finger and brought your hand to his lips.

“Grazie, Cara mia.”

(And you could just hear the relief in his voice as he held you close to him.)

--------------

Leonardo would later reveal the painting to you, the intricate brush strokes depicting yourself and he in that same garden he had proposed to you in.

That same painting now hangs in the centre of your shared room, bringing a small smile to your lips from the memory.

[yaystew]

Hey, @seasalt-t, I have a little something for you here. Yep, you guessed it, that's your @ikevamp-holiday-exchange gift! Hope you'll like it :3

[llama-in-socks]

Happy New Year y’all. My piece for the the Ikevamp Holiday Exchange. I played Secret Santa for: @writerinfandomworld Hope we can do this again next year @ikevamp-holiday-exchange

[ikevamp-holiday-exchange]

Careless Whispers

Holiday Exchange fic for chquine since i can’t tag in the submissions. I may post this on my blog but I’m not sure yet so I figured it was best to just submit it here first. 

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing:Leonardo da Vinci x MC

Content Warning: SMUT. Public Sex, oral, fingering and p in v sex.

“They’ll talk.” You pulled away only long enough to take another breath only for him to pull you in for another hungry kiss. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his body held you up against the wall. You felt his hardness against your core and wanted nothing more than to have him be done with his work in town so you could both return to the mansion and properly enjoy each other’s company. He pressed against you harder until you were sure your wetness was soaking through your panties.

  “Let them talk. Let them speculate as to what we’re doing. I bet none of them are thinking that I have you pinned up against this wall only feet away from them.” Leonardo’s hands moved to your wetness. “I never thought you’d be ready for me this quickly, cara mia,” he teased you as he pushed your panties aside and rubbed your swollen bud with the tip of his finger. You fought the urge to beg him to just pleasure you out where anyone could see you. You supposed this would happen when Leonardo found out just how bothered you were about the way the women in town talked about him. “You’re the only one for me, cara mia,“ he whispered before pulling you into the alleyway and pinning you against the wall. 

  “We can’t afford to be late, Leo-” The rest of your sentence was stolen from you by his passionate kiss. His tongue explored your mouth as his deft fingers plunged into your wanting sex. You tightened around his fingers, enjoying the moans it elicited from him. He pushed them in deeper, filling you with the most intense pleasure that you nearly forgot your surroundings. Your body burned, it ached for him and you wanted nothing more than to be stripped bare in front of him. You wanted to feel his hard body pressed against yours. As if he could read your mind he began to work on your blouse.

  “Not here, someone is sure to see us.” You grabbed his hand to stop him, chastising yourself for your one moment of reason.

  “If they see us then doesn’t mean they’ll stop talking as if they can easily take me from you?” Leonardo’s devilish grin grew as he stared into your eyes. 

  “I somehow think those rumors would be worse.”

  “Are you telling me that you don’t want to hear about how someone happened upon two compagnos in the middle of their passionate tryst? About how lovely your moans were as I devoured you so completely?” Leonardo pulled away from you only to get on his knees. He lifted your skirt and placed your leg on his shoulder. You heard him tear your panties off but had no time to reprimand him because it wasn’t long before his face was nuzzled between your legs. His tongue teasing your entrance with slow strokes. You bucked your hips against him eliciting a chuckle. His hands reached behind you, grasping your ass as he pushed his tongue past your silken folds. You covered your mouth as you struggled to keep your moans to yourself. He knew just how to unravel you, how to make you lose all sense of reason. You felt his lips wrap around your clit as he started to suck on it. You felt the mixture of his saliva and your juices slide down your bare thighs.

“Leo…more.” You no longer cared if an audience formed. You didn’t care about the rumors that would eventually spread around town about how the genius inventor and craftsman took his compagna in an alleyway in the middle of the afternoon. You didn’t care if the whole town heard your screams while he ate you as if you were his last meal.

  Leonardo slipped in a couple of fingers as he sucked on you. The more you cried out the deeper he went. He found your spot and he teased it as much as he could. The harder he pressed against it the louder you became. He always loved how melodious your moans were. You were blinded by passion only wanting to feel him inside you. Your body shook as you teetered on the edge of release. You pulled him in closer, the tears streamed down your face as you begged him to let you come.

  “What happened to my shy, compagna?” Leonardo chuckled as he started to stand up.

  “Why are you stopping?” You pouted as if you were a child that had had their favorite toy taken from them. 

  “Who said I was stopping?” Leonardo unfastened his belt and undid his pants. “Promise me you’ll no longer let everyone’s careless whispers get to you.” Leonardo reached up and caressed your cheek gently before pressing himself against you once more. “I want nothing more than to see your beautiful smile when you’re on my arm as we walk through town.” Within moments his teeth were scraping along the column of your neck as he lifted your skirt, exposing you to the cool afternoon air. Your arms wrapped around him as he pushed himself past your wanting sex. You threw your head back as he plunged in deeper. Your nails bit into his back as he bit down on your neck, careful not to let the beast out. 

  You felt the flames of passion stoked by each one of his thrusts. You trembled in his arms as your body gave way to your orgasms. You could barely stand but you didn’t want him to stop. The intense sensation teetered between intoxicating and almost unbearable. He took one of your breasts in his mouth as he enjoyed the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft as you came once more. You heard his low moan as he began to empty himself in you. Neither of you wanted to pull away but you knew you the longer you stayed the harder it would’ve been. 

  Leonardo kissed his way up to your lips, buttoning up your blouse as he did so. He rolled his hips against yours once more before begrudgingly pulling out. The sudden emptiness made you let out a small whimper that made him smile. “You’re so beautiful when you’re this wanting.” Leonardo began to do up his pants when you had stopped him.

  “I think I should clean up this mess.” You ran your finger over his length, eliciting a shudder. 

  “Cara mia, you’re insatiable today.”

  “Maybe, or maybe I changed my mind about what people will say when they see us together.” You got on your knees and looked up at him seductively before you licked up the mix of your juices off his length. It wasn’t long before your lover was hard again and you made sure it was your turn to devour him.