#ikevamp fanfiction

[valkyyriia]

Try This On For Size

Words: 2729 CW: Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism?, Mirror Sex, Creampie, Vaginal Fingering Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain / Female-Bodied Reader Prompt(s): Fitting Room, Let Them Play Dress-Up With You

Notes: I cranked out another one at work tonight. I'm feeling even less confident with this one than I was with the other, but.. I hope it still makes sense.

Crossposted on AO3 here.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

The sticky summer heat of the French countryside was beginning to get to you. No amount of fanning yourself or loosening your collar was cutting it. 

Of all the things you could be missing from the modern era, air conditioning was not expected to be the crux of all of your issues. 

Just as you feared you would begin to melt into the parquet flooring, a cool hand brushed against the back of your neck. “Are you okay, ma chérie? You seem a little warm.” His voice was soothing, but tinged with concern.

“I’m alright,” you assured him with a content sigh, leaning back into his touch. “It’s just hotter than I’m used to.” 

Comte’s hands dropped to your shoulders and he began to massage them. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as the tension left your body. “You’ve been working hard lately. I think it’s time you take a break.”

“There’s too much to do for that,” You protested. “Sebas needs help with dinner, and we haven’t even begun cleaning up the book fort Leonardo created in the library.” 

Comte hummed, one of his hands gently caressing the side of your neck. “Should I give it as an order from your employer, then? If a heartfelt plea from your partner isn’t enough.” He moved to kiss your neck under your ear. “Please, mon amour. It wouldn’t do to have you suffer a heatstroke simply because you’re too stubborn to know when to take a break.” His lips moved towards your shoulder, teasing but affectionate. His arms moved to your waist, pulling you back into his embrace. He rested his head on your shoulder and held you close.

You leaned into him, your head draped over his other shoulder. Unlike the stifling heat of the outdoors, Comte’s warmth was comforting and welcome. He nuzzled into the joint between your neck and shoulder. “Let me spoil you today,” he said, kissing your neck again. 

“You spoil me every day, Abel,” you sighed, relaxing further into your partner. He was going to win this and you both knew it; it was just a matter of how long it took you to give in.

“And yet, somehow, I’m still not satisfied that it’s enough. You deserve more, chérie. You deserve the world, and you will get it if I have anything to say about it.” His arms tightened around your midsection, pulling you even closer. 

A cool, inviting breeze suddenly blew through the open window. The air rushed along your face and tousled your bangs. Even nature herself was trying to tempt you. With another sigh, you gave in. “Fine. But you have to let me get up on time tomorrow, okay? I don’t want to leave Sebas waiting again like the last time you took me out for the day.” 

The vampire chuckled into your neck, the reverberations rumbling through your own body due to the proximity. “I seem to recall you left my bed quite satisfied that morning.” 

You flushed at the memory. “I certainly was,” you agreed. “Until Sebas abused my forehead after breakfast. I had a bruise for a week.” 

“But it was worth it, non?” He looked up at you from his position on your shoulder. Comte’s golden eyes twinkled with amusement, but they were tinged with a subtle heat. His hands drifted slowly down your abdomen, his gaze never leaving yours. He offered you a coy smile.

You groaned. “It’s too hot, Abel,” you protested. “I will genuinely either melt into a puddle or catch on fire if you continue that line of thought right now.” 

“Alright, alright,” he relented, stepping back from you with a light chuckle and holding up his hands in defeat. “Let’s get you cooled off.” 

As it turns out, Comte’s idea of “cooling off” was taking a carriage into town and going clothes shopping. For you, of course. His reasoning was that your clothes were heavier than you were accustomed to in your time, so lighter fabric would help fend off the oppressive French sun. Comte’s logic was sound, but you were quite sure he was just fishing for an excuse to buy you even more dresses that you would only wear once. 

As the carriage stopped, he stepped out first, offering you his hand. Taking it, he kissed the back of it before tucking your arm into his. The two of you walked leisurely in the direction of his favorite boutique, the one the both of you frequented. The staff immediately recognized the both of you (you were pretty certain that Comte’s patronage alone could keep this store in business for centuries to come, and potentially push France into the forefront of the modern economy) and ushered you into a large fitting room in the back of the building. 

“How can we be of service on this day, Monsieur le Comte?” 

He looked around the room briefly. “My partner is in need of some lighter summer clothes. The heat is getting to her,” he said, brushing his knuckles against your cheek with affection. You hadn’t really considered it before today, but the dress you were wearing was made of a heavier material that was more suited for the later part of the year. Maybe a couple of thinner summer dresses would be a good idea - you just hoped you could keep your darling Comte from purchasing the entire store this time.

The shop worker nodded in agreement. “The Madame’s dress is much better for the cooler months. Yes, I will bring you some of our best. Un moment, s'il vous plaît,” they said, stepping out to rifle through a few clothing racks.

You looked around the room. Not much had changed from the last time you were here, except now they had frilly sun hats and sunglasses on display alongside the jewelry and shoes. 

“Has anything caught your eye, ma chérie?” Comte asked, tilting your chin up to look at him. 

“Aside from you, you mean?” You ask with a smile. He responds with a chuckle and a kiss to the forehead. 

“You are so.. Séduisant, mon amour,” Comte murmured, amused. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“Many things, I’d imagine,” you said sweetly. “After all, eternity is a long time.”

Before Comte could reply, the shop attendant returned with a large bundle of fabric bunched in her arms. “I selected a few similar to what you’ve purchased for le Comtesse before, along with a couple of other styles I’m sure would look lovely on her.” She smiled at you. 

“I truly think she could make anything look amazing. Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle,” Comte replied with a cordial smile. “We will take it from here.” 

The attendant curtsied on her way out of the fitting room. “If you have need of anything else, please just let us know.” 

Once you were alone, Comte sat on the ottoman in the room and grinned cheekily. “Strip.” 

Your cheeks bloomed a dark pink. “Don’t say it like that!” You hissed, untying the ribbon at your neck at his request anyway. His laughter filled the room. 

You tried on several outfits that day; all of which were far lighter material than what you had on. They were high-quality, lightweight cotton - and definitely outside of your normal budget. Not that Comte cared about price. If you expressed even the slightest desire for something, the vampire would have dozens of the item in question waiting for you within a day, regardless of practicality or expense. One time, you had been playing with Lumière and commented on how cute he was, and the next day you woke up to an entire litter of kittens in your room, courtesy of Comte. You ended up rehoming all but one of them - a little black thing you had named Minerva. She was probably sunning herself in the window right about now, absorbing all the sun she could. Disgusting.

Comte gave feedback on all of them, but he seemed pleased with every dress you tried on. He chose accessories and shoes for everything you tried on. While le Comte de Saint-Germain may not be the most fashionable of individuals, he could at least pick out matching shoes and jewelry. 

Throughout the fittings, Comte’s eyes only left your figure a handful of times, just long enough to grab a pair of shoes or another accessory. The rapt attention from your lover would have made you feel self-conscious if it weren’t so endearing. Your trained eye could tell that Comte grew somewhat more impatient with every article you tried on, but he never once rushed you. You wondered what had him so antsy, but you decided not to ask. After all, you would be done soon enough.

The last dress in the pile was a beautiful, floral-print cotton gown. The base fabric was white, but it was dyed with small daisies all over. You looked at yourself in the mirror and twisted to get a better look. You tried to reach behind you to lace up the back, but you stopped when you saw him come up behind you. Comte’s fingers gently batted yours aside and he began to lace the dress, looking at you in the mirror as he did so. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw the look he gave you - adoration, desire, and hunger. “It looks beautiful on you,” Comte said honestly as he secured the fastenings. He tightened the laces just enough so it would stay on, but not so much your movement would be inhibited. 

“Everything today has looked good on you, chérie,” he added, his now free hands settling on your hips and pulling you flush to him. You could feel his hardness straining against the smooth material of his trousers. He lightly rubbed his hips against yours.

The feeling of his arousal against your backside caused you to bite your lip and make eye contact with his reflection. His gaze had darkened further and you were suddenly reminded that he was a vampire - a predator - and you were his prey. Rather than fear, however, the sight was more arousing than anything. You almost felt empowered, knowing this man craved you so strongly that his control was only hanging on by a thread. 

Comte began to tug on the lace he had just tied up, loosening the bodice of the dress. You looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you liked the dress?”

“I do,” he said, pushing the sleeves down your shoulders and leaving hot kisses on the now bare skin. “I’ve rather enjoyed getting to play dress up with you today, but I have been looking forward to the moment I got to take them off of you. I can’t keep pretending to be a gentleman right now.” He pushed the dress down your hips, the decorated cotton pooling on the floor, leaving you in your chemise. Comte pulled you backwards, still keeping his eyes on you in the mirror, and bent you over the other side of the ottoman. You complied with his direction, your breath hitching when you felt him run his fingers through your already damp slit. You hung your head and inhaled sharply as he slid in one finger, then two, stretching you slightly.

“You’re already so wet,” he teased. “Such a naughty girl, getting worked up like this in public.” You pushed your hips back against his fingers, but he pulled them out and held you still instead. 

When you heard the sound of fabric rustling, your gaze shot up at the exact time Comte began to press the tip of his cock to your entrance. You looked back at him in surprise, but he turned your face towards the mirror once more. 

“I want you to see how pretty you look while I’m inside you,” Comte said, his voice deep with desire.

“What if someone walks back here?” You asked breathily, biting back a moan as Comte pushed in the rest of the way, filling you completely. “Then we let them enjoy the show,” he replied, snapping his hips against your ass once. You could feel him grinding against the sweet spot deep inside you and you bit your lip hard, straining not to cry out. “I have no intention of stopping. But if you stay quiet like a good girl, they won’t have any reason to come check on us, non?” 

Rather than fucking you into the ottoman, Comte instead opted for shallow thrusts deep in your warmth and continued to grind against you. The constant pressure and friction felt so good it was almost painful. You bit your lip harder, tears springing from the corners of your eyes. Comte reached around to your mouth and gently pulled your abused lip from between your teeth with his thumb. He then slipped the digit between your lips instead, giving you something to keep your mouth occupied without hurting yourself. 

Comte was insistent on keeping your attention on yourself in the mirror. Every time you looked away, he would pull out just enough to where you received no stimulation. When you looked back up at the mirror, you were rewarded with the head of his thick length grinding into your sweet spot again. 

Comte’s other hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers deftly stroking the sensitive bud there. He timed his fingers with his hips, setting a gentle yet insistent rhythm. The lack of movement kept the sounds to a minimum; all that could really be heard around the room was a rustling of fabric and the muffled sighs from the both of you. The extra fabric around the room served as a sort of soundproofing as well, masking the sounds as well. You could feel the tension building in your abdomen, and you pushed your hips back against him. Comte’s lips trailed against your neck, his hot breath puffing against the shell of your ear. 

“Come for me,” he whispered, punctuating his command with a kiss under your ear and the insistent motion of his fingers between your thighs. The pressure in your belly suddenly snapped and you leaned forward, forgetting about the mirror; your inner walls contracting around the cock buried deep in you. Comte’s thumb slipped out of your mouth at the motion, but his hand wrapped around your mouth to prevent you from crying out in pleasure and alerting the store personnel to what exactly you were doing in their fitting room.

With a soft grunt, Comte’s free hand suddenly held your hips still as he too found his release. He instinctually pressed himself even deeper into your warmth and emptied himself inside of you with a shudder. Comte’s mouth settled over your pulse point. The urge to bite you was so intense it was hard to resist. His fangs ached with the desire to sink them into the succulent flesh of your neck, but he couldn't - not yet. Comte instead settled for gritting his teeth and pressing his face against you, a quiet groan escaping his throat. With an exhale and a kiss pressed to your shoulder, he pulled out and neatly tucked himself back in his pants. He moved your underwear back into place, preventing any fluid leakage for now, and smoothed out the skirt of your chemise. 

Comte spent the next five minutes making you both presentable again. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. You weren’t sure you would be able to shop at this store anymore for the sake of embarrassment. Once you were both decent, he shot you a cheeky grin and kissed your forehead. Your face flushed. “You have the worst poker face, ma chérie,” he chuckled. 

“Shut up,” you grumbled weakly in response, exhaling and trying to calm the heat rising in your cheeks.

Comte offered you his arm once more and guided you out of the fitting room. “We’ll take everything she tried on today,” Comte told the store clerk. You groaned in exasperation. You’re going to need a whole wing of the mansion just for your clothes if Comte keeps getting his way. However, that’s a problem for tomorrow you, you decide. For today, you’re content to let him keep spoiling you. 

“Je t’aime, Comte,” you murmur, leaning against his arm. 

“Je t’aime aussi,” he replies, kissing the top of your head. “And I always will.”

Dividers by @natimiles

Taglist: @natimiles

[xxsycamore]

KING'S GAME

╰┈➤ ❝ I just need to know in case…�� ❝ In case what? In case you take it a little too far in role-playing? In case you go down on me and the words mon empereur leave your lips? ❞ - After a round of some silly drinking game, MC can't help but have certain thoughts about Napoleon and how easily he takes on the role of someone in power. Naturally, she wants to know his boundaries of it.

Napoleon Bonaparte/MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Drinking Games; Alcohol; Shenanigans; Humor; Sexual Tension; Massage; Kink Negotiation; Sexual Roleplay; Power Play; Dominant Napoleon; Dom/sub; Master/Servant; Blow Jobs; Oral Sex; Choking; Dacryphilia; Stripping; Dirty Talk; Vaginal Fingering; Begging; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Aftercare • wordcount: 6,055 • masterlist

a/n: The idea for this fic was conceived long before an event of the same theme came to Ikevamp EN... We ended up not seeing them all play together in the game so I hope this right here fixes that, maybe? I have no idea how it ended up being that long. I guess I've been looking for the right opportunity to explore this part of Napoleon's character in a smut fic, namely his feelings about being called emperor and the likes in the bedroom. Hope you enjoy!

"Oh, I know! How about we play the Ousama game? It's a popular drinking game back home, in my era!"

It's rare for MC to be the one initiating activities on game nights, so naturally, all eyes are on her. Dazai is quick to give his enthusiastic approval, wanting to know more about a game that came after his time but originates from his homeplace. Sebastian smiles in a similar fashion.

"Good pick, MC. I think our residents are going to like it. Will you please excuse me for a second?"

As Sebastian stands up from the table and dashes out of the room, someone's comment oh my god, he's totally fetching his diary, can be heard. But really, there are no hard feelings. Everyone's more than happy to welcome Sebastian at the table and see him being more open and relaxed around his masters for once. Maybe it does have to be documented.

"It's not something like Arthur's games, I assume?" Isaac directs his gaze at MC, almost pleading under the surface for an affirmative response.

She rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. As much as she hates to disappoint him…

"Erm, it's basically a game of dares… but don't worry, you can always refuse a dare!"

"That's it, if you want to take the punishment, Newt." Arthur seems ready to dance on the physicist's nerves with a complimenting chin-cupping stance, elbows rested on the table and all. Theo rolls his eyes.

"Let me guess. Refuse a dare and drink a shot."

"That's correct." MC nods before Arthur can take more liberties at orchestrating her own game, even if they happen to be thinking in the same direction. "Let me go get what we need for the game!"

By the time Sebastian is back and patting his breast pocket suspiciously, so is MC, with a handful of… chopsticks. And a fountain pen.

"So, what I'm going to do now is write a number for each one of us… Vincent, Theo, Arthur, Isaac, Mozart, Dazai, Sebastian, Napoleon, and I…so that means numbers 1 to 8, and on the ninth chopstick, I'm going to write Ousama - which means 'King' - and then we shuffle the chopsticks in a cup - Arthur, can you pass me the empty cup next to you? - then we each take one but without showing our numbers to the others. Whoever gets the Ousama chopstick becomes King and he places a dare for someone, using the numbers! Is everything clear?"

"Uh. What kind of dares are allowed?"

Napoleon nods at the direction the question originates from. "Good point. Hey, maybe tone it down with the sexual stuff. There are taken people at the table."

Arthur snaps, "Why are you looking at me? I wasn't intending to. Besides, if a dare doesn't stand right with you, you can always drink and avoid it!"

Memories of other game nights seem to flood multiple minds at once, so MC lets out a half-chuckle half-sigh and moves on. She does take a mental note of the hint of possessiveness in Napoleon's comment just now who instantly got worried about another man being prompted to touch her inappropriately. As if anyone has the balls to touch Napoleon's woman, she thinks to herself… and kind of likes the way it sounds in her head.

It's a shame that Leonardo and Comte aren't joining them tonight and are instead enjoying a more sane way of getting alcohol in their system, in some quiet corner of the mansion. And Comte is totally not smoking a cigarillo right now while talking to his old friend, claiming that he hasn't had one in forever, again. And for that matter, Jean's presence is missed as well, but sadly (although understandably) he dislikes partaking in such activities. He's a lot like Mozart in this regard, with the difference that Mozart becomes another person when he drinks some. And that person loves joining drinking games with his buddies!

"If we're all ready - here we go!"

MC gives the cup a rather unnecessary bartender-style shake, assuring the chopsticks are well shuffled and ready to make it to all the wrong hands.

Once placed on the table, a crowd of hands quickly reach into the cup and sneakily withdraw in order to hide their new secret identity, with the exception of one person who has nothing to hide.

"I'm the king. My, I wasn't prepared for this."

As Sebastian holds up the chopstick of fate high in the air for all to see, a few pairs of surprised eyes catch his own. And something like a shimmer lights up in Sebastian's ones.

For someone as unprepared as him, he surely doesn't waste time on thinking about his next move. Not at all.

"Number 6, exchange a clothing item with number 1. Number 3, take off your pants without using your hands. And number 4 must do a handstand."

"By Jove, Sebas, your fetishes are showing!" Arthur blinks, both surprised and somehow entertained by the turn of events which (in his own head) kicks him off the position of number one most perverted person around the table. Or at least for the time being. He's only smiling now because he's safe, being the lucky number 7 and out of Sebastian's fantasies.

Isaac and Theo can't say the same. They exchange a look - eyes traveling up and down each other's frames - looking for a convenient clothing item to exchange, given their different builds. Theo is done with his choice first, and he reaches over the table to undo Isaac's necktie. The smaller man averts his gaze, turning his head away as much as he can so it's not in Theo's way, or perhaps out of embarrassment, but it's over before it ever began thanks to Theo's rough but effective methods of freeing the cloth from under his collar. Using the chance coming with the shortened distance, Isaac snatches Theo's scarf in return as the most adequate thing to take.

"Aw, you two are boring." Napoleon mocks for change, drumming his fingers on the table with a smirk. Theo muses with the thin black tie in his hands, turning to Napoleon with an empty look and silently wrapping it around his forehead instead, tying it off at the side.

"Is this better?"

"Snrk. I don't know, what do we think, Sebas?"

"I approve of your new look, Master Theodorus. Or should I drop the 'Master'? I'm the King now, after all."

MC gasps, "Sebas! Oh, this game is dangerous…"

"Tell me about it. My first dare and I already have to drink. Woe is me." Dazai weeps, rising up from his seat to point at his hakama, making it impossible for him to complete the take off your pants without hands dare.

"Guess that leaves me." Napoleon sighs, pushing his chair back audibly as he stands up.

"Ooh! Go for it, Naps!"

"Good thing it went to someone who's in good shape. I bet it's a piece of cake for him."

"We'll see now." Napoleon smirks to himself, rubbing his hands together as he prepares to tackle the handstand. His eyes get serious for a second as he calculates it all, and in the next moment, his hands are flat against the floor changing the center of his weight. While he's upside down, the gravity makes his partly untucked shirt expose his abs.

Someone whistles, and MC finds herself staring. As if for the first time.

All too soon, Napoleon is back on his feet again, dusting off his palms and retaking his seat by the table. Sebastian is beaming. "I like this game. Thank you for the idea, MC."

"Thank you, MC." Mozart chimes in, for some reason, oblivious to Sebastian making history tonight as opposed to quietly observing it from the side like usual.

"Haha, you guys are welcome… so, let's do it again, shall we? Let's see who will be King this time around~!"

After the new shuffle of chopsticks, everyone seems a little more lively, a little more hopeful - some driven by revenge and some simply by the contagious evil brewing in the air.

"Who is King?"

Out of the people looking at their newly acquired chopsticks, Napoleon is the one who speaks up.

"I guess that would be me."

"It's Napoleon, huh…"

"Oh, how fitting! You were born for it, Naps."

"Haha, not really."

"My bad. You're an emperor, not a king. I'm so sorry, Your Majesty."

Napoleon snorts, not playing along - or perhaps his dismissing the extended apology is his way of playing along. MC raises an eyebrow, studying his reaction. Napoleon's attitude towards these things is… rather complicated, as he seems to both loathe his so-called days of glory and simultaneously accept them for what they are, a part of him. She's been confused more than once about what's a good way of navigating through the situation when the topic is brought up in their conversations. On one hand, she hates the change of expression on his face that makes her feel like winter has returned - even if it's never going to feel to her like how it felt to him, the cruel winter - on the other, she knows he hates it when people walk on eggshells around him.

But now they're all at least half-drunk and merely goofing around. No one's bothered to care about these things, and maybe Napoleon prefers they don't anyway.

"Number 5, hold three ice cubes in your mouth until they melt. Number 4, confess about a fetish you have in front of everyone. Number 2, crack an egg over Number 7's head. Number 1, give me a massage."

"N-Napoleon is a sadist!!"

"So cruel…"

And he's laughing too. Sadistic tendencies aside, his laughter sounds every bit as genuine (and loud) as MC always remembers it to be, and it's strangely soothing. Maybe she should refuse a dare just for the shot, just to drown her worries a little more… Taking a look at her chopstick again because she thinks she heard her number, she sees a 1.

Theo goes somewhere, for ice presumably, despite Sebastian's offer to do it in his stead, and Arthur follows. "Wait, I'll go for the eggs."

"Who got the fetish one?" Napoleon browses the faces of the ones left at the table to spot the flushed one. Vincent raises a hand.

"My fetish is, um… I don't really-"

"Come on Vincent-kun, we all have fetishes~"

"I think I could say… maybe… um.."

"Yes? Go on, say it. We won't judge."

"I'd love it if my partner would touch themselves and let me watch."

"That's perfectly normal, Master Vincent. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Woah, it's both very vanilla and somehow kinky at the same time..." MC muses out loud. "Oh, but nothing to be ashamed of, certainly!"

Arthur and Theo return, with the latter immediately taking note of Vincent's beet-red face.

"What did I miss? Broer?"

"The fetish dare… Don't worry, Theo, I just had a shot instead."

"Oh, that's good. I mean, no it's not! Napoleon, how dare you make mjin broer take a punishment!"

"It wasn't really- Anyway, Theo, let's shut you up now."

Theo groans, dragging on every move as if giving the ice a chance to melt as much as possible before the inevitable contact with his mouth. At last, there's nowhere to escape and he pops the cubes in his mouth, thankfully they fit.

"Okay, I've been waiting for this. Who gets an egg in the head?"

"It's me… I hate this game…"

Isaac cards his fingers through his strawberry locks, as if for one last time while they're still egg-free. In the meantime, Theo's expression twists, less out of sympathy and more because the ice begins to torture him from the inside out.

"And the executioner?"

"Master Isaac, I'm truly sorry, it's me." Sebastian raises his gloved hand.

"Ahahaha! Haha!" Mozart laughs at the turn of events seeing a servant disserving his master. Or maybe the reason behind his laughter is nowhere that complex. One thing is certain, for some reason, he always gets out of the bunch's drinking games taking no damage in the form of nasty dares and punishments.

Sebastian stands up reluctantly, then sits down again. "Should I just drink? But I have to remind, I can't hold my liquor very well, I'm afraid."

"Just get it over with. I won't be mad at you or anything."

Sebastian sighs to show a little more reluctance before committing the deed. He looks like he's trying to miss his target, but unfortunately the raw egg still perfectly lands on Isaac's head, quickly descending down his face. Isaac's grossed-out expression mirrors Theo's current agony. As someone hands Isaac a handkerchief to wipe off the sticky mess with, another jokingly calls the sight erotic…

"Alright, I'm ready for my massage. Who shall serve the King?"

Napoleon relaxes back in his seat demonstratively in anticipation. It's a bold invitation, and everyone looks up to see the chosen one.

"My king."

MC stands up, showing her chopstick marked with the number 1. She tries to mute the sound of the others' reactions in her head as suddenly her pulse speeds up.

Napoleon flashes her a grin.

"Very well. The King is expecting you."

He lifts his glass to his lips as he hasn't touched it since the beginning of the game, probably deeming it worthless with the nature of the game. Not that he's expecting to be drinking anytime soon - he's simply not the type to back out from any dare unless it's too ridiculous even for him. Maybe that's why he started to miss the warmth at the back of his throat.

As MC makes her way to where he sits, she witnesses the singular bobbing of his Adam's apple when he gulps down the liquid, and she watches dumbstruck for a second as he motions for her to take a sip if she wants to, from the same glass. Well, yes, she finished her own drink a while ago. She accepts the glass from his hold.

"Now, what kind of massage should I request? Hmm…"

Arthur's dirty remarks fall on deaf ears as MC focuses on not choking on the liquid in her mouth.

Napoleon is a giver.

But there's something damn attractive when he allows himself to take from others.

"The king orders you to rub his shoulders."

And it's damn attractive when he's commanding like that. She sees now what the others were referring to in their provocations earlier - it rolls so, so easily off his tongue when he gives an order like this. Even if it's for a stupid game, the sharp look he gives her feels rather… real.

Not that this is anything new to her. For all Napoleon's gentleness, in the bedroom, he has this side of him that colors him rather dominant. And she'd be lying if she said she's gotten so used to it by now she doesn't feel anything between her legs right this moment. Instead of being a liar, she blames it on the alcohol.

Standing behind Napoleon, MC puts her hands on his broad shoulders… and really, it's been a while since she last gave him a massage. Usually, it's the other way around, as Napoleon added it to his ever-growing list of skills, even if initially it was something he'd never done before, given his status in his past life. Now she has his shoulders all to herself to knead and push at, and she catches herself putting selfishness in the act of service. Because she can't help but have impure thoughts.

Napoleon groans. It's quiet but she catches it over the cacophony of other noises in the room coming from the rowdy bunch. They're already setting things up for the next round, and here she's still stuck on her dare. She doesn't want to go back to her seat. Maybe Napoleon can read her thoughts like he always does and offer her his lap for the rest of the night; maybe he will go further and excuse the two of them for the night-

One hand at work, she reaches the other into the cup because they tell her to, and it appears to be Isaac's turn to be King. Good for him, but bad for everyone else. Seems like it's going to be a long night…

Later in the night and a few more rounds down the line, apples have been eaten without hands, glasses have been downed, a few mounts were the targets of unpleasant substances, either deadly spicy or deadly sweet, some clothes have been removed, some eyes filled with tears - and the collective level of soberness in the room has been drastically lowered.

It's a surprise how they even managed to put an end to it before the sun came out when naturally there's always someone who didn't get a chance to take revenge on someone else. Napoleon and Theo, being the best at holding their liquor as per usual, felt it their duty to help the others to their rooms.

MC didn't have much to drink, otherwise she'd be asleep on the pile of residents by now. Not that she intended to retain some of her soberness, it simply happened - because the bubbling feeling in her chest wasn't caused by alcohol, to begin with.

Napoleon, always the caretaker. Maybe if she throws herself at him he'll carry her to her room as well.

"Goodnight, Theo, go get some sleep." The sound of him returning after separating from Theo interrupts her daydreams.

Once he sees he's all alone with MC, he offers her a smile.

"And we're the last ones again. C'mon Nunuche, let's go to our room."

"Carry me?"

MC tries her best puppy-dog eyes at him, and he tests her for a second like it doesn't work on him. He then gawks at her laziness, hoisting her up his shoulder and giving her ass a little spank. "Let's get you to bed, naughty Nunuche. Some of those guys will be mad at you for weeks, you know? But you better not give them those eyes. Only I get to see them."

"Mm…Napoleon?"

The varnished floorboards creak under Napoleon's steps as he makes his way down the hall, holding MC's weight securely. "Yes?"

"Do you really enjoy it? You know, being treated like a majesty."

It's a short trip, and MC's perspective soon goes back to normal as the floor and the walls swap their places once more before her eyes. Not that she's interested in it, so she throws herself at the bed in the next second, sinking in the welcoming embrace of the comforter, not bothering with removing it at least for the time being.

"Pfft, where did that come from?" Napoleon says while closing the door behind him. The crickets are still singing their songs under their window, it can't be that late in the night.

"From the game. For a second I was worried it left a bad taste in your mouth."

"Hmm." Napoleon fake-muses, kicking off his shoes before sinking one knee on the bed. "I think I liked it when you were the one treating me like a majesty."

"No, don't joke, tell me seriously."

"I am serious though."

Somehow they end up in this position that doesn't help resolve the tension poisoning the air around them one bit; with him caging her with his body on the soft mattress and her having nowhere else to look at but right at his penetrating gaze. Her fingers twitch, nails catching into the fabric of the comforter, seeking a sense of stability.

"I just need to know in case…"

"In case what? In case you take it a little too far in role-playing? In case you go down on me and the words mon empereur leave your lips?"

Like a spark to the kerosene pooling low in her belly, Napoleon's words make beautiful explosions bloom behind her eyelids that have fallen shut amidst the last sentence. She takes a breath but it only feeds the fire as she can't help the way her exhale sounds raspy.

"Would you like that?"

"Would you?"

MC bites on her bottom lip. "This is not about me."

"I thought you wanted to serve your King."

She averts her gaze, because if she looks a little longer at this alluring jade gaze that reeks of sex, she'll be able to feel herself losing her composure, and she's trying to have a serious conversation here.

"I do."

"Hmm." Napoleon plays with her, trailing a hand down her modest home dress, prodding at the buttons at the front. "This is bad, I don't know what to ask for first. I've lost shape."

"Liar. You were perfect at it earlier."

"Someone's been paying attention. Were you also fucking me with your eyes? Right there, at the table?"

MC takes two sharp breaths, and it resembles panting, all too soon. It's out of irritation and not arouse, not yet. When she pictured their little game, she thought she'd just have to bow her head obediently and indulge in her desire to serve. Not enduring Napoleon's verbal teasing as any other night.

"Is it that bad? Will my King punish me now as he sees fit?"

Napoleon looks at her. For all the things that may be at the tip of his tongue, MC imagines most vividly the tone Napoleon would speak them in and how much he's cut for the role. Her soul sings at the thought, but it's nothing holy.

"Get up then. Don't you think it's a little rude to be lying down in my presence?"

That's fair. With renewed vigor, she pushes herself off the bed and waits readily by the side of it.

"Remember to not look me in the eyes. It's forbidden. You'll only look when I allow you to, if I allow you to. You'll have to earn my grace."

Instinctively, MC wants her nod to be accompanied by eye contact, but she corrects her mistake before it can even take place.

"Present yourself. Take it all off."

MC blinks surprisedly at how fast things are happening but isn't against it at all. She has the feeling that he is capable of making her do all sorts of dirty things with a mere flick of his tongue, undressing for him is nothing.

She makes a show of it, despite not having many articles of clothing on her to take off seductively - before long, she's stepping out of her dress that has pooled at her feet, and she retakes her previous position.

"I'm pleased with what I'm seeing. Come closer. Kiss me."

He doesn't have to ask twice. It's something familiar and yearned for since they crossed the threshold of their room—hell, no, since they took a seat at the table for that game. It's welcoming and fulfilling and it's just what she needed-

Or so she thought, until she terribly embarrassed herself with a rather awkward and rigid pressing of lips against lips, and no movement. In her selfishness, and out of habit, she left her mouth open for Napoleon's invasion. But she's forgetting to consider that kings get tired of their conquests too.

She summons her boldness and turns the desire in her veins into fuel for action. She shoves her tongue in Napoleon's mouth, but gently, not with the intention to dominate, but rather to serve. To kiss him until he gets enough. Her tongue swirls against his own, the movement rather clumsy, the making out of a juvenile rather than that of a skillful lover… but it's what he wants. He wants to see her seduce him, use every millimeter of her body for his pleasure, and keep going until he has his fill.

A thin string of saliva connects their lips upon her withdrawal, and her eyes are shut tight. She has to keep them shut, otherwise she'll look right at him. Napoleon chuckles.

"You may open them."

She does, and the sight is not kind on her fragile composure. Locking eyes with Napoleon has never felt like this, like a privilege, and exploring this new feeling is exciting.

"You're not half bad with your mouth. Undress me and put it to use."

Heartbeat thumping in her ears, MC finds it impossible to conduct herself in that moment; to sturdy her hands into performing the task and to break her gaze from his piercing pools of jade. She starts with the shirt, more tugging at the buttons rather than precisely undoing them, before pushing it completely off his shoulders, and finally letting it fall to the floor. He's glorious with just his trousers on and that scrutinizing, almost cold gaze. She opens the fly enough to take his hardness out, and her stomach tightens instinctively.

She wets her lips and parts them, taking in the head of his cock, letting it rest on her tongue. Even when her world narrows down to the hot pulsing flesh in her mouth, she catches herself dividing her focus between pleasuring her lover and.. the position she's doing this in. There's a little bit of getting used to it being required, and it makes her realize how unfamiliar that is - her being on her knees, on the hardwood floor, and Napoleon standing upright. When was the last time they've found themselves in that exact arrangement? It could've happened once or twice before, in the heat of the moment, or when the space had limited them. But never intentionally. Not because MC has anything against it - rather, it would be Napoleon who changes the position whether he's about to receive oral. He makes sure he's at least sitting down at the edge of the bed, where MC can rest her hands on his hips, or on the bed. Where he can see her better, to check up on her. Now she has to look up to see him, and he seems so far away, or maybe her eyes are doing tricks on her, or maybe her vision is blurring because she accidentally took his cock too deep down her throat and now tears are gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Napoleon brings his hand over her head and collects a fistful of her hair, one unfamiliar thing after another - but before intimidation can mix into her blood, she breathes in deeply, because it's not him forcing her down his cock, it's him forcing her off it.

He holds his cock firmly by the base as he directs it at her parted lips again, but doesn't breach the gap between them. He simply rubs his cockhead on the soft cushion of them, gathering the saliva that starts to droll down and smearing it back on her lips.

"A pretty mouth indeed."

MC can only look at him. She looks at him like she's looking straight at an open flame.

"Next," Napoleon begins, cupping her chin and caressing with his thumb where his cock used to be just a second ago. "I want you to go on the bed and show me the position you want to be taken in. Can you do that for your King?"

MC finally averts her gaze; it happens involuntarily, purely as a reaction to another surge of surprise and embarrassment.

"I— Yes, my King."

Napoleon angles her chin up, a signal for her to rise to her feet. Yes, that would be a good start.

The bed is just two steps away from where she is but MC feels like she can trip thrice on the way there with how much her legs have turned to jelly. Still, she makes it. There's not much room for thinking this through, for deciding on what would work out best for both of them - normally it's him who takes these decisions, anyway - so once she leans forward on the bed, she gives way to impulsivity and the way it saves her from having to give it any more thought. If she has to name the reason, it would be that it aligns with everything that Napoleon is tonight. Of course it would be fitting if he were to take her on her hands and knees.

"Does this… please you?"

She hears the rustling of clothes behind her back, probably the sound of Napoleon getting rid of his trousers, before he approaches her. He doesn't say anything about approving the position or not, and MC can't decide if his silence is worse. He comes to stand right behind her, and she crawls a little closer to the edge of the bed to make sure their skin is touching. Napoleon lets one hand roam from the fold of her knee up to the curve of her butt, and MC jumps lightly at the touch. Needless to say, she's sensitive and oh-so neglected. Her insides throb at the mere proximity of Napoleon's slender fingers close to her sex - it's a miracle she doesn't come undone on the spot as he actually directs his touch to the apex of her thighs. Wetness catches on his fingertips and he wastes little time caressing her folds before plunging two fingers inside.

"Nnghhh…" MC tosses her head, trying her best to enjoy the feeling of finally, finally claiming some pleasure but without losing herself completely in it. Napoleon twists his fingers until his open palm is facing upwards, thrusts in and out a few times in a way that doesn't intend to bring pleasure but rather to prepare - and then his fingers audibly and briskly exit her wetness.

MC whines at the loss of his fingers but finds a new fire sparkled to life inside her, and she's more than happy she wouldn't have to wait any longer for the next dose of intoxicating pleasure.

"Good girl. Do you want my cock?" Napoleon asks, openly and greedy. He's not risking having her beat around the bush by posing a more generic question like what she wants next. They both know the answer to that already.

Not that he spares her the torturous reminder of what she'll get by saying the right thing. He rubs his flushed tip on her glistening folds, pressing it in enough to just barely catch on her entrance; to make her bite her tongue and assume he just might show mercy and put it in without her pleading for it.

"I- Yes, please, Napoleon— take me, fuck me! Please…"

She only realizes once it slips out that she used his name and not the object of their little game of pretend that is his title, but there's no going back.

Napoleon doesn't punish her for it. Instead, he rewards her, giving her what she wants most. The groan he lets out as the familiar warmth and tightness enfolds his aching cock is telling of his own desperation.

MC cries out at the intrusion, only now understanding the difference of not having him finger her for longer prior to this. It doesn't hurt - she just feels a little fuller somehow. A little on edge. He gives her time to adjust, however, and she just basks into this dangerous feeling for as long as it's there until he carefully withdraws only to give it another thrust.

"Ahh!" Her insides squeeze around Napoleon again, as he goes in deeper this time. She blames the position, trying to reason out why she feels him in her guts. Napoleon withdraws again, and then pushes in, trying to fit even more of himself inside.

"You're taking me so well. I'm so deep inside you, I bet you can feel me in your deepest parts."

She groans at his words and their truthfulness as his thrusts grow rhythmic, the place where they're connected burning with the delightful friction, and her arms soon give out. She buries her head between her hands, enduring the change of angle as her rear sticks out, and Napoleon keeps pounding at her. His own sounds of pleasure are barely masked by the sounds of skin on skin, but he's not hiding them either. He lets her know how good she's making him feel, telling her something dirty in a low voice that she can barely register over the drumming in her ears.

"You feel so good- merde- Ngh. I want to stay inside you forever."

He's always holding her tightly when he fucks her, his grip being strong enough to leave marks the following day, but there's something about the way he takes hold of her hips now. At first, MC thinks nothing of it, lost in euphoric pleasure. It's only when she feels her knees being lifted off the bed that she understands what's happening.

Napoleon rises up her bottom to meet his hips, in his standing upright position, taking full control of her body in that moment. He's so strong, making it all seem effortless; and it's not a matter of matching his thrusts anymore - she can't do anything. She's facing away, with one pair of limbs immobilized and the other grasping uselessly for purchase at the covers. Her whole body rocks back and forth, feeling like a ragdoll in Napoleon's arms. There's something primal and simultaneously embarrassing about how good it feels to give herself over to him like that; about the trust she puts in him to have her completely at his mercy.

And then Napoleon stills inside her. And he groans. And before she knows it, a warm spray of come hits her walls. Her eyes widen, only now realizing they've already been going at it for a while, for a while enough that he seemingly couldn't hold back and—

And maybe he just didn't feel like waiting for her to come before he does.

The realization makes her dizzy in an unexplainable way, and she moans so loudly she feels herself pathetically falling into that bottomless fit, just like that, just as Napoleon takes his cock out of her. It's petrifying, coming without him inside her, but strangely the pleasure never ceases. His hand finds his way between her quivering thighs and shoves them apart in a quick manner, beginning to rub at her clit; whispering praises against the skin of her nape, enveloping her smaller body with his own from behind as she presses into the bed so violently, chasing after her peak.

"Come for me. Come for me and scream my name."

And that's enough to tip her over the edge. Coming with Napoleon's load inside her intensifies the feeling; the way her insides are still remembering his shape, the way she's so full yet so empty. It makes her see stars.

"Napoleon— Ahhhhh!!"

"I'm here. I'm here, mon amour."

Napoleon holds her trembling form as he draws out the last of her high, gently moving her into a spooning position. He keeps touching her everywhere, her belly, her breasts, the curve of her shoulder, caressing all the spots that went unloved in their game.

"I felt— so good I thought I might die—"

Napoleon huffs out a breathy chuckle, and it tickles the babyhairs at the base of her neck.

"I'd be lying if I said this doesn't stroke my ego, Nunuche.", he whispers, and it's somehow more shiver-inducing than anything he's said that night. "I think you might be right. I might be enjoying myself a bit too much when I'm calling the shots."

MC turns her neck just enough to look at him from the corner of her eye. She studies him again, with his disheveled hair and boyish smile and his low tolerance of putting up a front now that he gave voice to his most basic instinct and let it rob him of the ability to give anything more thought than he needs to. She leans in for a kiss and he takes the initiative enthusiastically but ends up drawing it out to make the remaining endorphins dance slowly between their bodies.

Letting the tiredness in her limbs settle in just like the fact that the room is several shades a brighter blue than how they entered it, MC only nuzzles back onto Napoleon's chest, trying not to give voice to the heat between her legs beginning to awake again without a sense of the time.

"And I might just love to see you like that. Mon empereur."

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[ikemenfanfiction]

“Your Light Found Me…”

Ikemen Vampire Fanfiction (May 2020) Masterlist

Featuring: Jean d’Arc x Female Reader Word Count: 1500 Disclaimer: Ikemen Vampire Characters are the property of Cybird. I make no claim on them as my own. Warnings: Zealous Angst and Depression Note: There were to previous installments of this story but they are lost to the void. I hope this one is still enjoyable.

Jean regretted your first kiss. You knew this. You knew the sting of it. The sadness in his eyes. The fear… You still couldn’t make yourself regret it. You couldn’t make yourself afraid. Not of him. When it came to Jean d’Arc your heart could not feel afraid.

He’d asked you not to seek him out after that. He’d drawn away after you’d spent so much time trying to draw closer. “Can the damned sin, __? Can a demon fall further from heaven, when he is already a fallen angel?” His questions from that night seemed to hollow out his soul. To eat at him continuously every moment he dared to exist. So even though he lived he still felt as though he were dying. “I once knew what it felt like to live a life so full of hope and light that I believed no darkness could touch me.” He’d confided to you when you had convinced him to tell you more about himself. “I never faltered when it came to fulfilling my destiny. No matter what I was accused of, no matter who I lost… I knew my own pain, my own suffering, was simply part of my journey to fulfilling my mission. A mission that was greater than myself. More important than my own life or any of my own desires.” “Yet here, as this fallen creature, this demon condemned to darkness…. my desires overcome my will. My thirst overcomes my own strength. I am weak as a child in the face of temptation. Here there is no saving light. Only a broken creature who once stood between the people of France and their destruction.” You had wondered about the burden of sadness he seemed to carry everywhere with him. It was in those few moments he had finally shown you how consuming that pain was. “I was accused of heresy and burned at the stake… why couldn't I have allowed my suffering to end? What a fool I was to believe I could face this darkness… and still manage to save others.” “I don’t know Jean.” You had replied, unable to keep your voice from trembling. “But when I look at you, I don’t see darkness. I see someone so selfless he’d pay any price to save another person. To protect the innocent, and the suffering… whatever demon you see when you look at yourself? I can’t see him. All I see is the most angelic person I’ve ever met.”   You hadn’t expected him to lean forward. To cup your chin with those long fingers of his, drawing it upward as he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips. The warmth of his mouth—of his touch—felt almost like a dream. For he drew away from you much like a dream faded into the morning. “I believe, mademoiselle, that a woman as angelic as yourself may only be capable of seeing light in others. Even when there is only darkness left to be found.” With that he disappeared into the night. Leaving your heart aching and empty. Tonight that ache felt sharper than usual. “Jean.” You sighed peering down into the garden where he had so often walked. He always sought the solitude of the night, drawing away from the other residents like a shadow from the light. Where was he now? It had been days since you had seen him. Despite your insistent inquiries both Napoleon and Mozart had left the question unanswered, and the worry you saw in their eyes made your heart clench painfully in your chest. You did not have much more time before the door opened. Would that night—that one kiss—be all you shared? Would Jean and all his burdens simply fade into your past? The mysteries surrounding the beautiful man that haunted your mind seemed to multiply without any hope of your finding answers. You had a feeling that even if you left all of Jean’s secrets here with him in the past they would continue to haunt you when you returned home. You drew away from your starlit view and instead headed downstairs into the deserted halls of the mansion. It was late enough that no one stirred. Well past midnight by your estimation. At times when sleep eluded you, you’d found one or another of the mansion’s residents also wandering the halls. Tonight, however, remained lonely and silent.

You were returning to your room with a tray of warm milk and some sandwiches, hoping that between the snack and a good book you could settle your mind. Yet, when you approached your door you were surprised to find that the hallway was no longer empty. He stood just outside your door. Too far away to knock, yet staring at it as though he could not tear himself away. He was completely unmoving. You couldn’t even sense the motion of his breathing as you drew closer and he did not turn to greet you. Instead he remained a statue, as perfect and beautiful and timeless as any other sculpture. You wanted to speak, to break the spell he cast. Yet your voice wouldn’t respond to your summons. At last he exhaled and turned to look at you. That beautiful amethyst eye seemed deep as the night itself as he gazed at you. He did not attempt to explain his presence, nor did he leave. Instead he simply looked at you as he would study a beautiful painting in the Louvre. You bit your lip and finally summoned the courage to speak. “I missed you.” Those three words were all you could find. He nodded but still did not explain. You found the courage to set the tray you held on a small table in the hallway and drew closer to him. Searching for something to say. “Jean, I…” “There’s light.” He said finally. “What?” You asked looking up at him. His gaze was so intense it made your heart pound. “When I’m with you… there’s light.” You swallowed. “I never thought it would find me again. I never thought—” He lifted his hand and placed it against his heart, curling his fingers against the fabric of his uniform. “I thought darkness was my fate, __. But your light found me…” He said your name.

He always refused to speak to you in such a familiar way, but now your name on his lips made your breath hitch. When he met your gaze his expression was pained, and a tear escaped and ran down his cheek. You couldn’t bear it anymore. Whatever restraint you had shattered, and you rushed into his arms. Holding him close, a sob of your own escaped as his arms pulled you eve closer. When you lifted your face to his he began kissing you. Tender, insistent adoring kisses that stole your breath away. “I love you Jean.” You whispered between kisses. “I love you so much.” “__….” He spoke your name again with the inflection of surprise. As though the taste of it was so distracting, he didn’t know how to react. Finally, he released the breath he’d been holding and whispered back. “I love you… more than anything in this world. Please, stay right here. Let me love you with everything I have. For my heart is yours and only yours.” “And mine is yours, Jean.” You replied. His mouth found yours again. Yet the passion behind his kiss had intensified. He pressed you back against the wall and the tenderness of his touch turned ardent and seeking. His hands reaching up to tangle in your hair as his tongue parted your lips and explored your mouth. Every movement was heated and insistent. You needed to grasp his shirt front just to keep yourself upright. Your heart was pounding so fiercely you were certain it was attempting to escape from your chest. Yet all you could think of was Jean. All you could feel was Jean. He pulled back, breathing heavily, and you could see the internal battle he was waging for control. “I found people that needed my help when I left. People who couldn’t protect themselves. Who couldn’t finish their journey without a hand from a stranger. Yet, every person I helped made me think of you. I didn’t know why. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He reached up cupping your face in his powerful hand. The size of it seemed to dwarf your cheek, yet the warmth of his touch was so pleasant it almost brouth more tears. “Then I realized it was their eyes. Everyone had this look—this light—in their gaze, and I realized that was it. That was what reminded me of you.” He smiled. Not his almost smile this time… it was the most beautiful thin you’d ever seen. “It almost felt as though you’d followed me, as though you’d sent these people to help me see that I was wrong. That your light was strong enough to guide me. That your love was strong enough to help me.”

He took a step back and knelt down in front of you. Then taking your hands in his he pressed his forehead to them with a reverence that left you speechless. “I pledge my heart to you, _. If you will accept my tattered soul, I offer you my life and all my love. For it was you that showed me how to break free of this darkness. To escape the trap of my existence and see beyond myself again.” “Oh Jean…” Your voice faltered as you threw your arms around him, burying your face against his neck. Would he ever stop ensaring your heart like this? It was already his. How could he capture it all over again with his knightly valor and zealous pledges. He stood scooping you into his arms and drawing you close enough to kiss. “May I enter your room, Mademoiselle? I fear I shall lose myself in my love for you…” You smiled. “Yes, and I’d be happy if you did.” “As you wish then, my love.” He smiled and carried you into his room closing the door behind him.

[alby-rei]

The Astral Artist and His Haughty Hound (IkeVamp; Luigi's Mansion AU, Part 5)

a/n: It's been a while since the last update. Since then, I've graduated master's! Wee! What do you do when you fall head-first into a world inside a painting? Happy reading~ ✨

Series: Comte's Ghost Mansion Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi’s Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC Word Count: ~1900 words Characters: You, Vincent, Theo, [Surprise] Previous: Part 4 Next: Part 6

~*~

After dealing with the frivolous phantom named Arthur, you weaved through the winding halls in search of your next target.

Sebastian had marked for you the rooms of the remaining residents and their favorite spots.

A painting studio next? Wow, this mansion has everything!

You wondered how different the manor looked in the daytime. If Sebastian does not find you a way home, would they let you stay with them? Did you want to? Shaking your head, you brushed those thoughts aside.

This is all just one long lucid dream anyway, you thought as you trekked up a flight of stairs.

"Open sesame!" You jammed the master key in. "Woah!"

As soon as you stepped inside, your foot met with air, and you plunged down a starry night cityscape. Time slowed down as the wind picked up in swirls of cobalt blue, trailing across the sky like migrating birds. Stars twinkled in zinc yellow sparks guided by the vibrant orange of a cartoonish crescent moon.

More like a croissant moon, said your stomach while growling.

You stretched your limbs out like a flying squirrel, taking in the sights of a bustling city below. Couples strolled across tiles of spotty ultramarine and red ocher. A farmer pushed a cart of straw. A waiter balanced a tray of glass drinks as he weaved between busy tables. Trees danced to the tune of the wind, each branch shimmering in shades of emerald green. In fact, every inch of the city appeared in constant motion.   

How does such a world exist within a single painter's studio?

Gravity decided you had enough time to enjoy the scenery. You swam in the air towards the farmer's cart. If there was any hope in landing safely, that was your best bet. You held your breath as you hurled down towards your impending doom.

.

.

.

Just kidding!  

You landed in the cart of straw with the grace of a cat. The straw poked into your clothes and scratched against your skin. You climb out of the cart, weighed down by the Poltergust 1899. Thankfully, it did not break on the way down. Otherwise, you would have a bigger problem on your hands.

Brushing yourself off, you looked around for any signs of the artist behind this painterly world. Upon inspection, you found that the city dwellers did not carry distinct facial features. Some had none at all, more like impressions of a face. You wondered if this was how prosopagnosia felt.

You also wondered where you heard that word before.

"Excuse me, miss," said a gentle voice. "If I may trouble you to hold that pose."

Your head darted back and forth to find the source. A blond man peeked his head behind an easel stand. Unlike the rest of the population, his features were crystal clear; cerulean blue eyes and a sheepish smile on creamy skin. Little stars shimmered and swirled onto his features like those of the night sky overhead. An astral artist as beautiful as the world he had brought to life with his brush.

This must be Vincent,*you deduced.

Refusing his request felt like a crime against humanity. Unaccustomed to this sort of attention, you fidgeted in your spot. When you stood still, the colors around you became static. When you moved, the city followed suit. The only one unaffected by this was the painter, who remained engrossed in his work. Your attempts at light conversation were fruitless. He spoke mostly with his eyes with the way they stole glances at you every now and then, studying you. Heat rose to your cheeks as your gaze traveled elsewhere. You blamed the warmth on the bright lights of the coffee shop.

Be still my beating heart, you thought. This is not the time for casual crushes on ghosts.

You were jolted when you heard a loud smack of the paintbrush against wood. Vincent was cleaning his brush from the excess paint. The astral artist's arm shook with the speed of a rubber band. You'd think that brush was possessed, given the force he used to exorcise the spirits within. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, raising the canvas to face the light. His angelic smile was disarming. 

"Can I move now?" You asked, craning your stiff neck.

"Oh, yes! Thank you for your time. You must be a guest at the mansion. My name is Vincent."

"Nice to meet you, Vincent. And what a wonderful city you've created."

He shook his head. "I just paint what I see. The real wonder is the world around us." Stars twinkled excitedly across his cheeks.

You clutched the vacuum tube, explaining to Vincent the real cause of your arrival: to return their spirits to their bodies. You almost felt bad for what you had to do.

Vincent nodded. "In that case, you should find my brother Theo here, too. But, hmm..." He pursed his lips. After rummaging through his briefcase, he scribbled on a piece of paper, then handed it to you in an envelope. "This should help convince him. Please don't be alarmed by his...fiery spirit. Deep down, he is a kind soul."

His words left you skeptical, but you hadn't the heart to voice those concerns. A fiery spirit could mean many things. Given Vincent's gentle nature, *how bad could his brother be?*

"Where would I find him?"

"He usually stays at the pub just around the corner. It's the only one on the block. I'll meet you both in front of the river Rhone."

Waving goodbye to the astral artist, you rounded the corner and found a wooden sign with a beer keg on it. Just as you made your way up some wooden steps, a bloodhound stood in your path.

Similar to Vincent, he stood out from his surroundings. His chestnut-brown fur shimmered with a spectral outline. A silver ear cuff shone on his right floppy ear. His short tail stood on end.

"Intruder! Intruder!" barked the hound. "You're not from one of my dear brother's paintings. How did you get here?"

"Woah, woah. Settle down, boy." You backed up slowly as he drew closer. "Just visiting. I'm looking for—"

He sniffed around your ankles, then your clothes. You shielded the pocket that held Vincent's envelope. The bloodhound's maw pulled back in a snarl.

"An art thief?! Not on my watch!"

"What, no!"

"You stole something of his. It’s in that pocket, I can smell it."

Unable to reason with the haughty hound, you were forced to run in hopes of losing him. He proceeded to chase you around the painted city for a solid thirty minutes.

Huffing and puffing, you looked around frantically for any sign of the river that Vincent mentioned. *Surely he would know how to pacify his guard dog, if that is what he is.*

Your legs grew heavy and rigid like planks of wood. The bloodhound leapt onto your back, sending you tumbling forward.

"Get...off...me!" You struggled against his incessant pawing at your pocket. "I NEED TO FIND THEO."

He stiffened. "For me?"

"For...huh." Still dazed, words eluded you. You revealed the envelope in your pocket, waving it.

A weight was lifted off your chest, and a hand—a human hand—swiped the letter from yours. In front of you stood a tall man with brunet hair swooped left like sharp blades of grass. His cobalt blue eyes scanned the contents of the letter.  

"Why didn't you say so sooner?"

"You wouldn't let me finish!"

He offered you a hand to get up. "Come on, then. We shouldn't keep Vincent waiting."

You got up and brushed yourself off with more insults swirling in your head. Theo was already walking away, cool as a cucumber, as you let out all your frustrations. 

After a short walk, the loud and busy cityscape gave way to tranquil waters and soft sand. A handful of rowboats were docked. The warm yellow light of the buildings reflected onto the river, extending from shore to shore. The shimmering lights above brightened. The crescent moon was out of sight. The astral artist waved and the river swayed in tandem with his sweeping arcs.      

"I hope my little brother didn't trouble you much," Vincent said with a gentle smile.

"Well..." You rolled your eyes at Theo, who whistled loudly while avoiding eye contact.

Though you didn't say more, Vincent's smile fell. "Oh no."

Theo flinched when Vincent pinched his cheek. "Theo... What did we say about reacting impulsively?"

"Urk... I was just trying to keep your work safe."

Vincent sighed. "I understand you meant no harm." His voice trailed off, flicking his head towards you.

Theo inhaled sharply and turned to you. "I'm...sorry. For the way I reacted." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

Vincent pat his head. "You can make up for it with a generous plate of your delicious pancakes."

Your stomach growled approvingly.

"But first, how do we get out of here?" you asked.

"Your device should do the trick," said Vincent with open arms. "Ready when you are."

"Wait!!" shouted Theo. "Me first. I don't...think I can handle seeing Vincent vacuumed like that again."

He has memories of previous nights? you thought. A brotherly bond stronger than paranormal curses, how sweet.

Fulfilling his wish, you captured Theo first, then Vincent. As you did, the world around you swirled in on itself. Blues and oranges blended together, and your sense of direction distorted along with it. The buildings compressed like clay, and the river washed over the stars.

Everything faded to black.

When you opened your eyes, you stood on solid wooden ground in the center of a regular studio.

Moonlight shone through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. You recognized the paintings on display as the city you ran through. No museum experience could ever live up to what you have seen here. Maybe you should propose the idea of a walk-in painting when—if—you get back home.

Beside your feet, both ghosts had dropped something behind; a paintbrush and magnifying glass. Two more for the count. You were getting good at this.

"Into the pouch you go," you declared, exiting the room with a rejuvenated sense of purpose.

You opened the map to your next destination. The longer you remained here, the harder it was to convince yourself it was just a dream. You touched the furniture you passed by, as a means of testing that theory. The man you met at the Louvre came to mind. Sebastian’s master. The subject of the painting at the entrance hallway.

"Ah," said a velvety voice. "Sebastian didn't tell me we were expecting guests."

You clutched your vacuum tube, aimed at the source. The shadow of a figure came into view. "And you are?"

Expensive leather shoes clicked as a man walked into the light. A large beige coat framed a lithe figure of aristocratic air. Blond hair swept over molten golden irises faintly glow in the dark.

The cause of your arrival in this strange world. He raised a hand to his chest, tipping forward in a noble bow. "I am the head of this mansion. Better known as le Comte de Saint-Germain. Enchanté."

~*~

Tagging: @starlitmanor-network

Back to Masterlist

[writingwhimsey]

Congrats on your milestone, Whimsey!! 🥳🥳🥳

May I please request Clavis, Mitsuhide and Leonardo reacting to reader domming them? 👀🔥

Alright, I finally felt a bit like getting back to working on these requests from my celebration event. And dear Venus this one spoke to me. I hope you like what I came up with!

400 Follower Celebration

Smut/NSFW Headcanon: Suitor reacts to MC/reader domming them Suitors: ikepri Clavis, ikesen Mitsuhide, & ikevamp Leonardo NSFW 18+ content below!

Clavis

“Oh? You want to take the lead tonight, little bunny?” CLavis asks when you push him down onto the bed and climb atop him, straddling him.

“Yes, and you’re going to like it.” You answer, feeling emboldened.

Clavis grins. “I am sure I will. Have your way, little bunny.” His hands are reaching for your thighs and you stop him.

“Ah-ah-uh.” You say wagging your finger before pushing his hands away. “I didn’t say you could touch me yet.”

“Oh? You really do want to take the lead.” He says grinning. “Whatever you say.”

You eye him skeptically for a moment. You can tell he’s not going to be able to keep his hands off of you, especially once you start doing all the things you had planned.  You had to do something about those hands.

The next thing Clavis knew, you had his hands tied to the bedposts. His shirt was unbuttoned and you were straddling him, running your hands over his chest and torso, teasing at the waistline of his pants. “I’m going to have you begging me to ride you and let you cum.”

His breath hitches as he looks up at you. You lean forward and kiss him, grinding yourself against the quickly growing bulge in his pants. You spend the evening teasing him to the brink, only to leave him wanting.

Clavis is a whimpering mess under you. He’s always wanting you anyways, but with you taking control like this…not to mention how sexy you look in the purple silk and lace lingerie you’re wearing…and all of this teasing.

When you finally give him what he wants, taking him inside you and riding him, he’s a complete mess. “You can’t cum until I tell you.” You tell him, as you begin to ride him. After finding your release three times, you finally tell him he’s allowed to cum. 

He cries out your name when he finally cums. He’s panting, his eyes filled with desire and his body coated in sweat. You undo the restraints on his wrists and his arms instantly wrap around you, bringing you close. After that intense session, you know he just wants to be held and loved.

You give him sweet kisses and cuddle him. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Oh…I did, little bunny…once I recover…I’ll return the favor.”

Mitsuhide…

When Mitsuhide came home and you told him, you wanted to take charge and love on him, he was quite pleased. “Having my little mouse take charge? I can’t think of anything better.”

You grin as soon as he agrees. “You’ll submit to me completely?”

“If that is your desire, little one.” Mitsuhide replies. “What do you have in mind?”

The next thing he knows, you have him tied up and blindfolded, his top half bare. You have a few different things laid out, a feather, a cup of cool water, and a few other items, all of which Mitsuhide saw before you blindfolded him. He was eager to see…rather feel…what you had in store for him.

You started with the feather, running it over the skin of his chest and abs. You watched as his muscles tightened from the tickling sensation. He sucked in a breath as you went particularly low with the feather. “I know I agreed to this, little mouse, but if you’re going to touch me, I’d love it to be with you lovely hands.”

“Hmm…not yet.” You reply, grinning, knowing he can hear it in your voice. You tease him with the feather for a bit longer before grabbing the cup of cool water. “You must be thirsty.” You say, taking the cup to his lips and having him drink a little, but making sure that some spills down his chin.

“Oh, look how messy you are. I’ll just have to clean you up.” You lean in, licking off the water from his chin.

His breath hitches. “Little mouse…”

The next thing he knows, you’re pouring some of the water on his chest and leaning in to lick and suck it off. Slowly you move lower and lower with the water, your tongue tracing over each ab. Mitsuhide’s breathing is heavy. He whimpers when he feels you begin to slowly slide his hakama pants off.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, Mitsuhide.” You tell him before kissing your way down to his freed erection. He’s a mess by the time you take him in your mouth, the silken feel of your tongue gliding along his shaft as your mouth descends until he’s hitting the back of your throat and then up again, driving him close to his release.

You keep going getting him close and then stopping before he can cum. You do this a few times before finally letting him cum, swallowing every drop. Mitsuhide is a trembling, whimpering mess by the time he cums. Your name leaving his lips in a cry of ecstasy. 

When you finally untie him and remove the blindfold, his arms are instantly wrapping around you and pulling you close. He kisses you deeply and the next thing you know, you’re the one being tied up and blindfolded. “LIttle mouse, I hope you’re prepared to receive what you just gave.”

Leonardo

Leonardo cocks an eyebrow at you as you push back when he goes to push you towards the bed. You flip around and the next thing he knows, you’re pushing him down on the bed. “What’s this, cara mia? You feeling bold tonight?”

You nod. “We’re going to do what I want tonight.”

Leonardo grins. “I’ve never heard any complaints from you before.”

You grin. “It’s no complaint. I just want to be the one taking care of you.”

Leonardo is intrigued. “Alright, whatever you say, cara.”

You grin as you push him back on the bed and climb atop him. “Hmm…now where to start?” You mutter to yourself before leaning in to kiss his neck, giving a playful nibble as you do. You can feel his pulse quicken beneath your lips.

“Cara…” He speaks,his breath hitches.

You grin already, pleased that you were getting such reactions from him. You slowly slid your hand down the front of his body, tracing over his pecs and each ab. Leonardo let out a groan, his hands moving to your hips.

You pull back and giving him a chiding smile. “Nah, ah, ah.” You tell him wagging your finger. “You’re not allowed to touch me unless I say so.”

“Oh, Cara, we’re playing this game?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“Yes, we are.” You answer, grinning. “Now, lay back and let me take control.”

Leonardo grins. “Alright, cara mia.”

You continue where you left off before. Kissing and nipping at his flesh, leaving red love bites in your wake as your fingers trace teasingly low over his abs. You continue to tease him, touching him everywhere but where he really wanted to be touched and stopping and pulling away as soon as he tries to touch you.

You have him a groaning, whimpering mess, begging for you to touch him where he really wants, begging to touch you. When you finally give him what he wants, he can’t help but to call your name as he comes undone.

Afterwards, he immediately flips your positions. “Now, cara mia, it’s my turn.” He says giving you a devilish grin before capturing your lips in a heated kiss that is meant to tell you, he’s paying you back for everything you just gave him.

Taglist: @zulablaise @kisara-16 @otomewonderland @tele86

@lovely-bubb1es @lucyw260 @queengiuliettafirstlady

[fang-and-feather]

Ikemen Vampire - Mozart x Reader

Almost at the end of the day for me, but a quick birthday fluff I managed to pull out for at least one of my boys. It's not much, but at least I finished it!

You tried to be as quiet as possible as you opened the door just a crack to peer inside. Luckily Wolf was very particular about sounds and wouldn't stand a creaking door.

Even in the dark, you could make out the form of your sleeping boyfriend on his bed, and you could imagine his face, for a rare moment, soft and vulnerable… He was always so pretty, but there was something special about the rare times you could just watch him sleep…

Wait. This was no time to daydream. This visit had a purpose, and the more you delayed it, the more chances of Wolf waking up. Or of someone finding you, considering you were still at the door.

You slipped inside and tiptoed towards the bed, your task still delayed a moment longer as you couldn't keep yourself from taking a moment to just look at him, and wish you hadn't been so late with this and could have just joined him.

Although there was something both romantic and thrilling about doing things this way.

You carefully set the small gift box on the nightstand, the first surprise for when he woke up, then turned your attention to the clock.

Just a little past midnight. Right as you expected.

Turning to the bed again, you considered if you wanted to risk waking him up, but deciding against it, you just smiled down at him.

“Happy birthday, Wolf.”

Even if you would be the only one to know, you wanted to be the first one. A card was attached to the gift, but it wasn't the same thing.

You reached out, in a mock gesture of touching him, despite the urge to do so for real. But when you were ready to retreat, there was a lightning-fast movement, and you found yourself pulled on top of him on the bed.

“Don't get even a kiss, meine Liebe?"

From this close, you could see him smirk, but his gaze soon turned soft.

“How long have you been awake?”

Since you opened the door. Did you really think you could sneak up on me?”

The haughty tone didn't match the way he brushed a strand of hair from your face or the gentle smile that followed these words. You shook your head at the contradictory attitude, but smiled back.

“Happy birthday, my love.” You repeated, finally leaning in and giving him a soft kiss.

But as soon as you started to pull away, his hand slid to the back of your head, and he pulled you for a longer and deeper kiss.

“Thank you. Why are you sneaking up on me for this, though?”

“I’m finally finished cleaning and thought I should be the first one. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“I am glad I woke up to actually hear it from you. Thank you for the gift.” He kissed you again.

“You didn't even open it up yet!”

“I was talking about you, my most precious gift. Besides, I trust your judgement. Now stay with me.”

It sounded almost like an order, but his gaze was pleading. His gestures matched his tone this time, though. His hand shifted to your waist, pulling you along as he shifted positions, pulling you to lay by his side.

“Well, looks like I have no choice.” You chuckled, snuggling up to him. "Not that I had another answer in mind.”

“Good. I wanted you to also be the first one I see in the morning.”

“Then I will be. Sweet dreams, Wolf.” You kissed his forehead.

“With you, always, mein Schatz.” He whispered, eyes already closed, then pulled you closer.

Tag List:

@tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya

@eventinelysplayground, @queengiuliettafirstlady, @2-lines-and-a-circle

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[ikeromantic]

To Distraction

'Trapped' indoors at his castle due to an unexpected blizzard. Vlad decided to let Chloe have a tour of his massive library and he felt bored, lonely since his beloved is buried deep in nothing but books, what would Vlad do to get her attention exclusively for him and not the ancient, dusty pages of literature.

A request for @scruffymctee Approx. 1200 words, sweet and a little spicy, featuring her OC Chloe Toussaint

The weather outside was frightful. So cold that the outer walls of the castle wept and the windows were masked in white. Vlad knew they wouldn’t be traveling anywhere for awhile. Thankfully, Faust was wrapped up in his lab with Charles ‘assisting.’ That left him time to enjoy Chloe. And he was enjoying her. Only . . .

His eyes drifted from the frosted windows, across the library to where his little baker sat. She was ensconced in an oversize chair, legs curled up beneath her. There was a book open on her lap and one of the castle cats sleeping by her side. A strand of auburn hair lay across her cheek, a recent escape from the loose bun at the back of her head. She tucked it behind her ear as he watched, but didn’t look up.

Vlad was pleased she was enjoying his library. The spark of pure joy in her clover-green eyes at the sight of so many books made him happy as well. It was just  . . . he cleared his throat, hoping she might glance up. Chloe kept reading. 

She had been reading since breakfast. Sitting there, quiet, barely stirring except to turn the page. And he was glad. But if he was honest with himself, he was feeling a bit lonely for her company. Distracted as she was, Chloe may as well be anywhere with her book. With anyone, or no one. He let out a small sigh. He was being selfish with her, of course. But wasn’t he entitled to be a little selfish after so many years of searching for her?

Vlad stood, still caught between his desire to disturb her and his reticence to do so. Then it hit him. He didn’t need to actually interrupt her reading. He could simply . . . attract her attention. She would look up if he started to move around. And she would smile. He would kiss her. And after the kiss, another kiss. He smiled.

Chloe still hadn’t looked up. That was alright. Vlad stretched, letting out a slight groan of pleasure at the feel of the motion. He checked from the corner of his eye, but she hadn’t noticed that either. 

Apparently, it was much harder to distract Chloe from her books than Vlad anticipated. That was fine. He enjoyed a challenge. After a moment of thought, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it on the back of a chair. This movement also didn’t attract her attention, but he hadn’t expected it to. 

“It’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?” Vlad pretended to eye the two merrily crackling fireplaces, one at each end of the room. 

Chloe didn’t look up, but she did make a sound of acknowledgement. 

That was fine. Yes. Still just fine. He wasn’t feeling at all forgotten, ignored for the words on a page. Nope. Not him. Vlad reached down and undid the first several buttons on his shirt, revealing a pale expanse of firm, muscled chest. Chloe liked the way he looked. Surely this would grab her eyes. 

“That’s better.” Vlad sighed dramatically, stretching again to pull the shirt wide open. The last few buttons barely held across his navel. 

“Mmm,” Chloe replied, her gaze still fixed on her book. 

 “I’ll just straighten up in here.” Vlad eyed her. Usually she was quick to offer help, but she must not have heard him. She only nodded, nose still buried in the pages. He moved around her, making sure she would have full view of his near-naked chest while he pretended to put things away. 

After several minutes of this game, he decided subtlety wasn’t going to work. He’d need to be more direct. More obvious. He slipped the last few buttons free and let the shirt flutter to the floor. The full expanse of his chest was revealed, along with his well-muscled back and toned arms. He knew the effect this usually had on mortals (and other vampires too), and made sure to pose a little. 

Chloe continued not noticing. 

He cleared his throat again, but that yielded the same result as before. She was engrossed in the story on the pages in front of her. Vlad couldn’t help but pout a little. He wanted her attention but he didn’t want to have to ask for it. If she would just look up!

“Chloe.” He said her name softly, not exactly calling out to her but not-not calling out either.

“Mmm?” She turned a page. 

Vlad took a step closer. “Chloe.”

“Mmmhm?” She read on.

He knelt in front of her chair. One leg was folded beneath her, the other dangled just shy of the floor. Her skirt had rucked up to just above her knee from how she sat, leaving her legs covered by just her wool stockings. 

Vlad leaned forward and pressed a kiss just above her knee.

Chloe gave a little start. Her eyes finally drifted up from the page, then down, spotting him where he knelt. “V-vlad! You’re naked!” Her brows lifted. “What happened to your shirt?”

“I’m not sure I should allow you in my library. Books are entirely too distracting.” He ran his fingers up her calf, rasping against the spun wool. “Did you really only just now notice me?”

Her cheeks went hot. “I . . . ah . . . have you been like this for long?”

Vlad couldn’t help but chuckle. She was so adorably flustered. “Long enough to clean the room.”

“Oh.” She took a breath. “I - I’m sorry. I was just really enjoying the story. It’s about this woman that works in a bookshop, and she has to pick the next king. Only, all the princes are really cute and -”

He laughed again. “I am glad. You don’t need to apologize.” He kissed the inside of her thigh this time. “Just don’t forget that I need your attention too.” 

Chloe gave a little shiver at the touch. 

“I’ll let you get back to your cute princes and your bookshop girl.” Vlad smiled. 

“Wait! But . . . I thought . . . didn’t you want my attention now?” 

“I always want your attention. But that flush to your cheeks gave me what I need to wait for the rest of what I want.” He gently squeezed her thigh. 

Chloe cleared her throat. “Well. What if you didn’t need to wait?” 

Vlad’s smile widened. “Then I would start by removing these stockings of yours.” He slid his hand even further up, finding the garter belt. 

“And . . . and then?” 

“I would kiss the sweetness between your legs.” He undid the clasps on one leg, then the other.

Chloe swallowed. “Yes?”

He knew she was getting used to be loved. Desired. Her shy nature came out in moments like these. She couldn’t voice what she wanted unless she’d been drinking. “Then, when you are limp from pleasure, I would bend you over the divan,” he gestured to it. “And I would spread you open and fill you up.” 

“I-in the library? But what if . . . Faust? Charles might . . .”

“I locked the door.” His smile showed the gleam of fangs, and his eyes glinted with deep desire. “Should I continue?”   

[ultimatemahoushoujo]

“Look at me”

Napoleon x f!reader

POV

+18 nsfw

Napoleon being dom

My first fanfic too TuT so please be patient with me

•

It was unusual for me to be the last one up. This night Sebastian was loose enough for leaving the kitchen duties to me and going to his bedroom earlier, perhaps a lot of journaling to be done. It was already late, but because of Napoleons sleeping in habits I was starting to get influenced by his horrible schedule and ending up going to bed later every night.

“Well since I have energy at night, maybe I’ll tire myself so I can sleep faster.”

Just when I was filling up the cabinets with clean plates, napoleon snuck behind me, whispering in my ear. “Come to bed, cherie” Just his warm breath was enough to make me shiver.

I smiled, tuned myself to meet his eyes. “ I can’t. Sorry. I have to work a little longer to compensate for the time I spent convincing you to wake up”

“No fair. Waking me up is part of your job. I simply requested for extra attention” he smiled sweetly. “Can’t I convince you to put me to sleep now?”

“Waking you up and putting you to sleep?” He laid his head softly upon my shoulder, almost in a sleepy way. “There’s no way. I always fall asleep before you, waking you is troublesome enough, what can I do to make you sleep?”

“You’re right. I won’t be able to sleep…”

His distant gaze suddenly became penetrable, looking right into me, leaning forward, almost as if testing my response to his upcoming kiss. I kissed him back softly, but his kiss became stronger rapidly. I was surprised, I thought this was only a good night kiss, a “see you in the morning” kiss, so I drown back shyly.

Before I could even say something to stop him, he kissed me again, like he was thirsty. I recognised that kiss…

He grasped my wrist, which was resting above my heart, and pressed it against the wall, cornering me. I closed my eyes, feeling the redness on my face.

“No! Look at me” he turned my face towards him with the tip of his fingers, his eyes kind of sorrowful, but darkened at the same time. My eyes widened in surprise, looking at him, how vulnerable yet strong he looked. I lifted my chin, not looking back, he examined my face, my neck, I couldn’t tell what exactly he was looking for, I stretched my neck and he approached it, softly kissing and licking it.

“Nghh” I quietly moaned, and he pressed my wrist with force.

He lifted his head, looking at me from above, his expression was serious and almost unamused. He rapidly pulled me by the neck for a kiss, put his knee in between my legs, and the hand grasping my wrist was even tighter.

I couldn’t help but move along the kiss, moaning into his mouth and rubbing my back against the wall… and my legs against his.

We parted lips, with a string of saliva in between. Patting for air, I looked down feeling hazy.

“Don’t look away” he grabbed my face by my cheeks. His hand travelled from my face to my breast “if you can’t take it” and started to massage it. I left a loud moan out, and covered my mouth. “I said look at me” and he was being even more intense with his hands. He got back a little, meeting my eyes “lift your skirt” he smirked, knowing I’d be embarrassed by his request, I tried my best not to look away while lifting my red skirt with my free hand, pressing my lips together. He kissed my ear and whispered “good girl… now…” his light touch found my underwear, he seemed so more patient than I was, I was making noises, as if asking for more, shutting my eyes and pulling him closer. “Sh sh sh. What we’ve agreed on…?” His head was below mine, he puts his hand underneath the fabric. I bent over and put my hand on his shoulder for balance.

“I’m s-sorry” I couldn’t bare the anticipation

“Look at me” he said not stoping for a second

“Nghh”

“Look at me” he lifted his body to talk down to me “will you do as you’re told?”

“Y-yes”

“What?” He said with a pierced gaze

“Yes, mon emperour”

“Hmmm” he rubbed his fingers slowly “gosh… look how wet you are already…” he played with his fingers paying close attention to the shine. Looked up to find my eyes gazing at him “very well then…”

Letting my wrist free, he played with my lips, I was looking at him, he traced his digit around my upper lip with a mesmerised look, finally putting it inside my mouth for me to suck on it. We were gazing at each other while I sucked his fingers, like our own unique staring contest. With a tired look on his face napoleon sighed. Unbuckling his belt.

I put my hands around his neck, pulling towards a passionate kiss, while he rubbed himself against me, pulling my thighs high and finally penetrating me. I hugged him even tighter, with my arms and legs, and he was holding me while thrusting with all his might.

I could feel my senses go numb as I felt napoleon going harder while he was cumming. I felt as if melting in his arms.

He laid me on the floor, on his knees in front of me, his eyes sparkled as jade, and I stared right inside them. Until napoleon noticed… his pearl like semen overflowing in between my legs, dripping on the floor. I gently put my hand on his cheeks and kissed him.

“Look at me”

——————————————————————

God! This was hard!

This is my first ever posted fanfic

The first napoleon fic and the first nsfw too

I’m not used to it, so I’m sorry about the lack of terms and words, but I was in a insomniac episode and had to write something

English is not my first language btw

But I hope someone likes this

And I just want to thank this fandom, there are so many talented people here and I can’t help but to be inspired by you! I’m not even close to where I’d like to be, but this is my first step.

[valkyyriia]

A Study in Green

Words: 2915

CW: Fingering, Artistic Liberties with History | NSFW

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt: Abandoned Mansion (caution!)

Notes: This is I think the third time I've ever written smut, so please bear with me. I also thought the title was rather cliche, but I liked it, so... I also think I got a little carried away. Whoops. And Mo, if you read this - I remembered that comment I left you on your fic about the Paris Green and MC freaking out and it immediately came to mind when I rolled this prompt with my dice.

Crossposted on Ao3 here.

Banners/dividers by @natimiles.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, eyeing the abandoned building with suspicion. It appeared to have been an older, late-eighteenth century mansion. Ivy crept up the crumbling mortar like grasping tendrils, giving it a foreboding look. 

“It’ll be fine, luv,” Arthur said, a cheeky grin on his face. “A little urban exploration never hurt anyone.” 

“I would like to see the evidence to back up that stateme-” You were cut off by Arthur tugging you close and kissing you sweetly.

“Come now. I swore to protect you, didn’t I?” He tapped your nose with a gloved finger. “That includes the dangers of uninhabited, derelict places and all the things that go bump in the dark. You have absolutely nothing to fear as long as I am here with you, okay?” 

You exhaled shakily and offered a weak smile. “Okay.” 

“Besides,” Arthur added. “You do make a rather adorable damsel in distress.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed, taking your hand and leading you inside. 

One thing you had never quite gotten used to in this era was the sticky heat and lack of air conditioning. Even though the climate wasn’t too different from what you were used to, the fashion of the day was much more stifling. The summer sun was currently high in the air, beating oppressive rays down on the building. Fortunately, the mansion was still in reasonably good repair; the roof was intact everywhere except the far left wing, where the walls had collapsed in on themselves. It offered some protection from the heat, paltry though it was.

Arthur had, true to his word, faithfully stuck by your side. The vampire hardly even let go of your hand, giving you something to anchor yourself to. You were grateful for his considerate nature. 

The sunlight shining through the cracked stained glass windows cast glittering constellations on the dusty wood of the parlor floor. Furniture draped in age-stained cream cloth was positioned in key places around the room. If it weren’t for the thick layer of dust and the obvious smell of decaying wood, you would almost think the owners were just out on vacation. 

Arthur had done some amount of research on the building before bringing you here, aided by le Comte and his connections. As it turns out, the owners of this mansion had fled to America twenty or so odd years ago due to some sort of legal trouble. The Crown had seized the mansion to repay the family’s debts and it had remained uninhabited since. According to Comte, the left wing collapse happened a few months after the Crown took over the property, and they hadn’t tried to renovate or rebuild the structure. Ultimately, other than the left side, the mansion should have been perfectly safe - within reason for an abandoned building - for a first-time urban explorer. 

He grinned. “Look at this,” Arthur said, using your joined hands to point at the desk in the corner of the room. It was neatly organized, a couple of books stacked on the side. A half-written letter lay on the workspace. A quill pen sat in a long-since-dried inkwell, the bottom of it stained black with India ink. “They really were in a hurry,” Arthur commented, pulling his tortoiseshell glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose. “Let’s see…”

He blew gently on the surface, scattering the dust. Your eyes watered and you cough into your elbow. “Sorry,” Arthur murmured, rubbing your back lightly as he looked at the letter. 

“To my love,

“I hope the day comes when I can see you again. Father says we must leave in order to stay out of prison, and I dread leaving you behind. I had desperately dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, but I fear we must place those plans on hold for now. Wait for me, my love. I will return for you.

“Forever yours,”

And then nothing. There was no signature. You frowned. “The poor dears.. I hope he was able to stay in contact. Or at least let her know what happened.” 

Arthur studied the paper intensely for a moment, before looking at the books next to it. “I can’t imagine she wouldn’t know what happened. These kinds of things are rather big gossip in the upper echelons of society.” The hand on your back moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Her family likely refused any further contact with him or his family after they left. Even if he continued to write to her, she probably never saw any of those letters.” 

“That’s so sad,” you said, leaning into him. “It sounds like he really loved her.” 

“If he loved her half as much as I love you, he must have loved her a lot,” Arthur replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “If you would like, luv, we can maybe try to deliver this letter to its intended recipient. There’s probably some other correspondence between the two stashed somewhere here, if we look for it.”

You looked up at him in surprise. He had a kind smile on his lips, but his eyes were serious. If it were something you wished to do, he would make it happen somehow. “I would, but,” you started to say. “What if it opens up old wounds? What if she’s moved on and this just brings it back up?” You sighed and laid your head against Arthur’s shoulder once more. He ran his thumb up and down your waist in soothing motions. “I don’t want to make things worse.” 

“Even if she has moved on, it could give her closure,” Arthur pointed out. “But you are right; it could cause more trouble for them. Maybe we should leave it here?”

You mulled it over for a moment. “If I were in her shoes.. And you had moved away for some reason against your will, I don’t think I could really move on. Even if I was forced to marry someone else. I love you too much to ever forget you.” 

Arthur was silent for a moment. “Then we should do everything we can to make sure it’s delivered. Even if it is twenty-something years late,” he said, voice quiet and somewhat choked. You went to move away and look up at him, but Arthur’s hand kept your head against his neck. His free arm wrapped around you and he held you firmly to his body. You gave up fighting him, and just locked your arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Arthur finally let go and stepped away from you, looking around the room once more. “Let’s see if we can find out who the lucky lady is, yeah? The game, my dear, is on!” 

The two of you went looking around the parlor for any other correspondence between the pair. Coming up empty handed there, you moved to other rooms. Normally Arthur would have been able to make an educated deduction on which room likely belonged to the author, but with the state of disrepair the house was in it was much more difficult. Or at least, that’s what Arthur said - but you suspected he just wanted an excuse to lead you around the house by the hand for a little longer. Not that you’d complain about that.

The two of you looked inside a bedroom suite on the second floor. The door creaked open, revealing a lavish room, covered in linens matching those in the parlor. A thick layer of dust coated the room as it did everywhere else in the house. You carefully stepped over to another desk, this one facing the window that overlooked the long-overgrown lawn. Spread across it were several letters in varying states of completion. Some were well-worn, clearly having been read over multiple times. Those ones appeared to have a different author than the one found downstairs. 

“Alyssa Bloodwell,” Arthur murmured. “That name doesn’t ring any bells for me, but Daddy Dearest knows just about everyone worth knowing among Europe’s elite. We can ask him when we get back. For now, though…” Arthur turned to you, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Arthur,” you warned him to no avail. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed you by the hips. Your arms snaked around his neck automatically. 

He grinned. “What is it, oh darling love of mine?” He gave you an innocent peck on the lips. 

“Oh, don’t even start, Arthur,” you protested, but made no motion to step out of his embrace. His lips moved to the side of your face and you reflexively tilted your head to give him access. “We can’t - not here.” 

“Says who?” Arthur murmured seductively, nibbling at the shell of your ear. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to stop us.” He walked you backwards to a sturdy chest of draws against the far wall, and easily lifted you up onto it. “You’ve been looking positively delectable all day. I can’t help myself from wanting a taste.” He leaned in and kissed you more insistently, his fingers dancing around the ribbon at the collar of your blouse. 

“You are incorrigible,” You responded weakly, already returning his kiss. 

“But you like it, don’t you?” Arthur replied, grazing your earlobe with his fangs. “You dirty little thing.” He ghosted his lips down the side of your neck, pressing a kiss right over your pulse point, before mouthing the spot and sucking hard. You cried out at the sharp pain of it. 

Arthur ran his thumb over the red blooming there. “Beautiful,” he said. “I would bite you, but then I’d have to carry you back to grab a carriage.” He ran his tongue down the column of your throat, his fingers gently setting the ribbon to the side and dragging the top of your blouse down. His other hand slid up your skirt, the thumb running back and forth over the flesh of your inner thigh. “And I really don’t want to have to explain that one to the constable,” Arthur whispered, his breath coming out in puffs against your collarbone.

The drag of his sharp fangs against the skin of your chest combined with Arthur’s fingers moving higher underneath your skirt caused your breath to hitch. His gloved hand pressed gently against your clothed sex, applying a small bit of pressure through your underwear. You let out a soft whine at the contact. He rubbed his fingers back and forth between your thighs while leaving love bites all over your exposed chest. 

His lips kissed back up your throat, and he pulled away to look at you. Smirking, he pulled his hand from between your thighs and took the glove in between his teeth. Arthur slowly, teasingly, pulled it off of his hand, the now bare appendage returning to its former place between your legs.

“Arthur,” you whimpered as he slid the material of your panties aside. He dragged his fingers back and forth through the wetness gathering there, circling the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. 

You threw your head back, a low keening sound escaping your lips as he continued to swirl his fingers between your legs. Arthur shot out his other hand to catch the back of your head.

“Look at me,” he murmured. You bit your lip but did as he asked, and he smiled. “Good girl.” 

Arthur’s thumb brushed against your lips and then he leaned in for a deep kiss. “You’re so cute when you come undone under my fingers like this,” he purred. “You’re normally so put together.” You probably were a sight to behold right now - skirt hiked up to your hips, blouse untied and loosely draped under your cleavage, chest heaving  - you were the very image of debauchery. 

Arthur leaned back in for another kiss, his tongue moving against yours in time with his fingers as they pushed inside of you. 

Your gaze drifted up, suddenly settling on the walls of the room. Your eyes widened and you broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you breathed, voice scratchy. “Is it just me or is that wallpaper green?” 

Arthur groaned and he pulled away with a discontent sigh, his lips forming a frown. “It is, and quite a lovely shade of it. But I don’t see how the color of the wallpaper is more important than my hand.” His fingers deftly continued their work, and you bit back a groan. “Unless you are unsatisfied, and want something more?”

“Because,” you breathed, trying to ignore Arthur’s actions and failing miserably. “Green pigments from around this time period are made of arsenic. It’s poison.” Your thighs trembled as he pleasured you. You were so close-

-and then Arthur suddenly stopped and looked at you, bewildered. You whined at the loss of stimulation. “Really?” He looked away from you, his gaze flitting all around the room that was blanketed in peeling green wallpaper. Arthur’s cobalt gaze met yours again, a light panic to his eyes. “And they didn’t know this?” 

“No! The paint was invented sometime in the early nineteenth century and fell out of use during the mid nineteenth century because people were getting sick,” you sighed, the ache in your belly slowly subsiding, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and wanting for more. “It was later used as a pesticide, until they realized that was dangerous, too.” You were somewhat regretting your choice to stop Arthur at this moment. Curse your brain for being safety-conscious even with an incredibly attractive man between your legs, who wanted nothing more than to bring you pleasure.

Arthur sighed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We should probably continue this elsewhere, then,” he conceded, removing his hands from your thighs. You shuddered at the loss of contact and watched as he lifted his slick-covered hand to his mouth, sucking on the fingers. The lewd sight sent another flare of smoldering heat right to your belly. “When we get back home, you’re going to have to make up for leaving me hanging like this. I hope you’re ready for the consequences of your actions.”

Bonus:

After speaking with Comte about what you discovered while exploring (trespassing), you and Arthur found yourselves standing outside of a beautiful, well-kept mansion in the Parisian countryside. As you approached the gate, a butler, who was trimming roses nearby, placed his garden shears down and stepped over.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” he greeted. “How can I help you?” 

“Is there an Alyssa Bloodwell at this residence?” You asked.

The butler frowned. “Madame Bloodwell does live here, yes, but we were not advised of any visitors today. Was she expecting you?”

“Not exactly,” you replied. Arthur then pulled a time-worn letter out of his pocket and showed it to the butler, explaining, “I shan’t go into the specifics on how, but we came across this letter and believe its intended recipient is your mistress. We simply wish it to go where it belongs.” 

The butler looked at the letter for a moment before nodding. “If you will, follow me,” he said and led you both into the mansion’s entryway, and from there to the parlor. “Please wait here, mademoiselle, monsieur. I will inform Madame Bloodwell of your visit and we shall proceed from there.” 

After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to see a woman in her late thirties descending the stairwell. “I am Madame Alyssa Bloodwell. I was informed you had correspondence intended for me?” she asked. 

You curtsied and Arthur handed over the letter. She took it, eyeing it, and her hand dropped to her chest. “Where did you get this?” she said, breathless. 

“We recently came into possession of it,” Arthur said, smoothly avoiding giving the details. “We did some detective work, and determined you were the recipient.” 

Lady Bloodwell walked over to an armchair on uncertain legs and sunk down into it. “Louis,” she murmured. “I haven’t heard from him in twenty four years.” Her fingers caressed the fraying edges of the paper. “His family had been found to be embezzling money from one of the royal artisans and was disgraced. They fled Paris in the middle of the night and caught a ship to America. My parents forbade mention of him and the betrothal was called off. I ended up marrying a local lord, but.. I never did stop wondering what happened to him.” 

You smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry that we didn’t come bearing current news, but I’m glad we could at least bring you the letter. It’s obvious how much he loved you.” 

“Thank you, cherie,” she said. “Please, is there anything I can do to repay you for doing me this kindness?” 

You began to decline, but Arthur cut in. “If you don’t mind, could you answer a question for us as payment?“

She inclined her head. 

“Did you ever move on?” Arthur asked, a serious look on his face. 

Madame Bloodwell shook her head. “I love my husband,” she began. “But no. Louis was - is - special to me. I never stopped loving him, and I doubt I will stop until the last breath leaves my lungs.” She looked between you and Arthur, a content smile on her face. “I see such a resemblance between you two and myself and Louis. Monsieur, whatever you do, don’t ever lose her.”

Arthur looked straight at you and squeezed your hand. “I won’t.” 

Taglist: @natimiles

[xxsycamore]

✨The Sunshine Syndrome

╰┈➤ 🎂 "Do you remember what you wished for, last night when you blew the candles?"

Sebastian x Reader; ft. all the mansion residents • rating: G • tags: Birthday Fluff; Humor; everyone being silly goofy • wordcount: 1,453 • masterlist

a/n: and again, HAPPY BIRTHDAY INKY!!!! 🎉🎉🎉@inkys-garden I was wondering what to tell you about Sebas celebrating your birthday, and it suddenly turned into fic plot so here we are :DD HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTT!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ❤❤❤

It's another beautiful day of your life in 19th century Paris, in the neat little mansion up the hill that you call a home, just you and your lover and your 8 housemates who are reincarnated vampires and your sugar daddy landlord whose wealth you all live off. A day like any other, it might seem, except, today is the day you were born. Well, the day you will be born, if you have to take the time travel into account… your suggestion to place a minus in front of your age on the cake this year was met with disapproval by your lover Sebastian. "We can do the same for your age!" You said, but Sebastian wasn't really interested.

Content and excited for the day to unfold, you've already put your cutest outfit on, made a little spin in front of the mirror and exited your room to head downstairs. Strangely, Sebastian didn't wake you up earlier this morning, despite your wish to come help him with chores like always. He must have let you get some more shut-eye because it's your special day. He really shouldn't have to!

Huh. It's strange, you can swear you're hearing a cheerful melody coming from the dining room. Speeding up your step that already had a bit of spring to it, your curiosity makes you push the doors open without a second thought.

"YOU CAN DANCEEE!"

"YOU CAN JIVE!"

"Having the time of your lifeee!"

Wait, what! Why is everyone here, spreading jam on toasts, smiling at each other, why is Mozart smiling at all, and why on earth are they singing Abba?! "Oh, you're awake! We've been all waiting for you!" Sebas suddenly notices you, giving you the softest smile while gesturing you to come closer.

"There's the birthday girl. Heh, had a good night's sleep, cara-mia?

Previously, you thought you did. Now you're wondering if you're STILL sleeping.

"I, uh, I guess so? I did sleep very well… I thought I'd be awake much earlier though! But that aside, what are you-"

Theo interrupts you, thrusting a plate with warm pancakes into your hands.

"Good morning, kuiken, this is for you, I left some pancakes for you. Happy Birthday. Sorry I wasn't around to wish you a Happy Birthday last night, I hope you had fun with the others."

"Oh! That's- Theo, please, I understand you're a busy man- wait, how did you call me?!"

"A baby chick. I figured hondje might be a bit too rude so I'm switching to kuiken. It suits you more."

H-Huuuh!

"Okay then, thank you for being so considerate! But still, what are you guys all doing here, singing and all?!"

Jean of all people speaks up, pulling out the chair next to him so you can take a seat. You do so with curiosity, seeing his sincere little smile.

"It happened spontaneously, mademoiselle. It seems like we all had the same sudden idea to have breakfast together for a change. I was a bit reluctant about joining, but Sebastian showed me how easy it is to make these toasts with jam. I think I should consider joining you around the table more often."

You're utterly moved by Jean's sudden change of heart, and his face is so angelic in this moment. You've been waiting for him to take this step for so long, and here he took a leap!

"Amazing, isn't he?" Dazai startles you by placing a hand on your shoulder from behind. "I want to seal this version of our Jean in one of my future writings. I feel like writing something happy and light for a change, I wonder why is that?"

You understand Dazai's sentiment, as surprising as it is to hear the last part of what he said. With a mood like this, it seems like everyone's in good spirits.

"They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away, yet here you are…" Isaac rolls his eyes at Arthur, holding up an apple in his hand as if to emphasize his point. Arthur blinks at him, not used to the physicist weaponizing the very same thing that has been used against him so often before. He feels inclined to ask, trying his best lighthearted but simultaneously teasing tone, without a real bite to it.

"You do understand that's just a saying, Isaac? It hasn't been scientifically proven."

Isaac smiles at him, shrugging his shoulders. "I was just joking."

You watch the exchange with the same bewilderment as everything else happening around you, and that's when the door opens again to reveal a yawning Napoleon. Oh, you didn't realize he was missing from the impromptu house meeting!

"'Morning. I don't remember the last time I slept so much…"

"Good Morning, Monsieur Napoleon! We all decided to let you sleep in for as long as you want to today. Your second life here is all about relaxing, after all. It seems like you've enjoyed it!"

"Oh, that's strange, last time I checked it wasn't my birthday today?" Napoleon smirks, running a hand through his unruly hair, and winks at you.

"Why did we stop singing? I need to remember the rhythm for my composition. Otherwise, I'll have to let you all in my music room later and… well, maybe if you agree to behave we can move our choir there actually." Mozart smiles behind his cup of tea, surprisingly considering the idea.

"Yay, I've been waiting for a chance to visit the music room!" Exclaims Vincent, just a tad louder than how he usually shows his joy.

Watching them all be so happy, to the point where even Comte cares little about keeping his chuckles in the usual gentlemanly tone and Leonardo barely bickers with him over it, you find yourself overwhelmed with the giddy feeling that fills the room. All you want to do right now is join in the good mood, enjoying this moment to the fullest, but you want one last grounding moment with Sebastian before you do that. So you pull him to the kitchen, away from the rowdy residents, and ask once again how did this happen.

"I taught them Dancing Queen because I thought it was fitting of the mood."

"I'm not asking about this!!"

Sebastian smiles at you, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Do you remember what you wished for, last night when you blew the candles?"

The memory floods your mind at once, all confetti and the sound of several people singing you Happy Birthday. They quite literally bombarded you with wishes, compliments, telling you how big of a sunshine you are, how you're the most cheerful and bubbly person they know. In the heat of the moment, you said you wish they could all feel how happy you truly are in this moment. You wished it could stay like that forever; all smiles and fun and games.

You gasp.

"Am I… infectious?!"

"I'm afraid you are. Look around you. My dear, your sunshine syndrome could reach faraway kingdoms and melt the heart of any cold-blooded prince, turn the ruthless tiger into a playful little kitten. This is how you are."

"S-Sebas!! This could be very bad, what about-"

"Let's not think about the future. Things are amazing the way they are right now. We have to live in the moment."

"Sebas!!"

"You and I won't be doing any chores today. Or tomorrow for that matter. Or the day after. We should focus on enjoying life and partying."

"THE MANSION IS GOING TO CRUMBLE TO DUST!!"

***

"My dear, are you alright? Just what kind of dreams are you having? Why is the mansion going to crumble to dust?"

You wake up to Sebastian caressing your face, trying to shake off your dreams. Your…dreams?!

"Sebas… oh my god…"

"Was it a nightmare? It's over now." Sebastian leans down and places a kiss on your forehead, before standing to his feet. "You can lounge around for a little longer, but come to the kitchen when you're ready. It might be your birthday but we still have a long day ahead of us!"

You rub your closed eyes, still finding it hard not to mix dreams with reality. You're almost glad to see him so much… like himself, even if it means doing chores with him again. "Mm, I'll be there in fifteen minutes…"

"I'm supposed to keep this a secret, but… I want to be selfish and see your surprised and happy face while we're still alone. The residents all promised to come to breakfast today, and even help preparing it!"

You blink.

No.

This can't be.

"…Could we sing too?"

"Perhaps we can. If our masters are feeling up to it."

"YAAY!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @justpeachyteastea Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[ikemenfanfiction]

Le Comte: Etiquette Tutor Roleplay

Ikemen Vampire Fanfiction Inspired by the Ikemen Vampire “Sexy White Day” event Masterlist Featuring: Le Comte De Saint Germain x Female Reader Disclaimer: Ikemen Vampire Characters are the property of Cybird Word Count: 2000 Warnings: NSFW sexual content “Sebastian?” You try calling to your friend one more time before the butler disappears, but to no avail. That sneaky historian could disappear faster—well faster than a vampire! He claimed Le Comte was willing to do a role-play with you. You’d drawn one of the slips of paper and he promptly left to inform Le Comte of your choice so he could “prepare?” Sebastian returned a few minutes later to fetch you to your host’s private study.

You had been inside Le Comte’s office plenty of times since your arrival here at the mansion. More often recently since the two of you became lovers. Yet, just now, you felt extremely anxious. Comte was always so accommodating and pleasant. It still threw you off when he would switch from his ardent-host mode to his private-time mode. A side of him that was no less alluring but which was considerably more passionate and personal. Even having experienced the more personal faucets of your lover you still felt unsure as to what you should expect. You had never seen him act out a part before… Finally, you took a deep breath and raised your hand to knock firmly on the door. “Please enter.” Comte’s deep voice called to you as he had so many times before. As you opened the door you couldn’t help but pause as your lover came into view. You took in the sight of the most beautiful man you had ever seen with meticulous attention wishing you could memorize every aspect of this beautiful figure. You may be a little biased because you were—undeniably—in love with him. Yet even the most casual observer would have to admit your ardent admiration wasn’t completely unfounded. Somehow the mixture of soft and warm golds that graced every part of his perfectly tailor suit, expensive shoes and even those inescapable eyes seemed to enfold the room in his warmth. Surrounded by hourglasses of all sorts this man, as timelessly beautiful as a painting, turned to smile at you. “Ah, _, are you ready for your lessons today?” His smile was as disarming as ever and you felt your heart warm beneath his gaze. “Yes, Maestro.” You curtsied. Something he had helped you perfect not long after your arrival at the mansion. “I understand you will be making your débute into society in only a few weeks. Let us be certain you are prepared.”

“No, my dearest, like this.” Comte catches your hand and turns it gently into the proper position. “Thank you, maestro. I would be remiss without you.” You don’t quite keep the disappointment out of your voice. After over and hour of meticulous instructions it feels as though Le Comte’s lessons still have no end in sight. Had Sebastian somehow included “Grueling” with the title etiquette-tutor when he explained this scenario to Comte? Or perhaps you were failing ridiculously? So much that Le Comte had not choice but to stretch out his lesson in and effort to actually make you presentable among the French Aristocracy? “Is something wrong, ma cherie?” Le Comte asked noting your expression. “Oh? Oh nothing, monsieur. I was simply considering your instructions.”

While you had learned a great deal from your alleged instructor you couldn’t help wishing you had instead spent the afternoon with your lover. The social nuances of nineteenth century France were still a bit foreign to you. Yet you had managed well enough the few times Comte had chosen to take you to social gatherings. Or so you had thought. At this point you weren’t certain whether your manners were suitable for a barn not to mention the aristocracy. Everything Le Comte did was so perfect and while he was gentle with his direction you were feeling more and more inadequate. “You have not learned your lesson… have you ?” The reproach in his tone caught you off guard and you looked up into those otherworldly golden eyes. When you do not reply he continues. “When you keep something from me, I always know.” Comte’s gloved hand caught your wrist drawing it up to his mouth placed a tender—surprisingly sensual—kiss there. When his eyes once again met yours they demanded a response and you scrambled to give one. “You have done a wonderful job as my instructor Comte. Thank you for enlightening me on so many things I can do better to fit in here.” You decide evasion of the topic is your best chance to avoid making this awkward. It wasn’t his fault he took the cosplay so literally. Nor was it his fault you were so terrible at following his instructions. “But…?” Comte asked releasing your hand but not your gaze. “Nothing. Just… thank you for teaching me so much. Anyway, I should go. I’m sure Sebastian will need my help with dinner—” You withdraw from him and head for the door to his office only to find yourself unable to open it. The sudden warmth at your back makes your heart pound. And as you glance up you see Comte’s hand place firmly against the door holding it closed. You hadn’t even heard him move yet there he was. Startlingly beautiful and so close it was difficult to breath. The golden sleeve of his coat was near enough to your cheek to discern every woven thread of the meticulously cared for attire. “Maestro?” You ask. “Your lessons are not yet complete _. There is also the matter of your choice to be untruthful.” You sigh turning to look up into those golden eyes you adore. The face you long to see filled with joy instead has a darkness—a loneliness even—that makes your heart sink. “Comte, I simply—” “The truth is what I asked for.” He interrupted. In his long life, Comte had understandably collected his own assortment of sad and dark moments. Memories that caused him pain and loneliness… for he had said goodbye to far too much. Given up far too much. Even his time with you seemed so fragile and brief that he had found it difficult to allow himself to express his love for you. You had tried to give him moments of peace during your times together. Times that would ease the lonely look you still saw in his eyes every now and then. While he rarely showed that side of himself to you… somehow you felt this moment was especially important to him. This was something he needed from you. “Yes, Comte. Just now I was wishing… well… I wanted to be with you today. I was thinking I wished you were acting as my lover this afternoon. Not my instructor. That I would miss even a moment with you—acting as yourself—made me feel sad. I didn’t mean to be untruthful about it… I just didn’t want you to feel I was disappointed in your efforts. Because I’m not. There is just something I want much more than your instruction on etiquette.” You reach up to gently touch his cheek. The warmth of his smooth skin was so inviting. How long had it been since the two of you had been alone like this? Comte rarely trusted himself to be this close to you for long.

“That was what I was thinking. That I wanted your company. Just you…” Comte gave you a pained smile. “Perhaps I was overzealous in my duties then. You would have me as your instructor… yet I left out the crucial element of including myself. Forgive my oversight, ma cherie?” “Of course. Does this mean I get to… we can be closer?” You blush while attempting to put your feelings into words. You knew at times being close to you was difficult for him. Often he would apologize profusely and ask that you give him leave to be alone. He admitted his feelings made your blood so appealing at times he—the ever self-contained host—nearly lost himself to wanting you. “You wanted me..?" His voice wavered. Those golden eyes held a hesitance that caused a twist of pain in your chest. Didn't he realize how you felt? How you longed to be in his arms? To hear his voice whisper into your ear all the things he wanted to do to you. "Always, Comte." You meet his gaze full on. Daring him to believe you. Daring him to see the truth of exactly how much you loved him. "Then turn around." "What? Why?" "Don't you trust your lover?" He asked teasingly. "I do… I'm just reluctant to turn away. You are far more appealing to look at then the door." "Trust me, little one, there will be plenty of time to look at me in a moment." He captured your wrist and turned you in his arms the way a man would twirl his partner on the dance floor. His free hand caught you at your waist, pressing pleasantly against your abdomen and drawing you flush against him. "Keep your hands here." He commanded placing them on the wall so that your arms were above your head. "If you move them there will be consequences." His warning brought a smile to your lips but that smile faltered as the gold of his tie shaded your vision. "Comte?" You ask. "Losing one sense heightens the others, does it not?" "In theory…" you admit hesitantly. "Let us test this theory then. Shall we?" With that he began to unzip the back of your dress exposing your skin to his touch. He must have already unbuttoned his shirt because you felt the warmth of his stomach press against your back as he shifted closer to you. "What do you think? Does losing your sight allow you to hear more?" He whispered into your ear before sliding a hand up your thigh. "Feel more? And possibly taste more?" He nipped at the base of your neck causing a pleasant shiver to run across your exposed skin. "Oh Comte…" you sigh his name in pleasure as those powerful hands grip your thighs pressing you flush against him. You feel the pounding of his heart at your back as his chest rises and falls with each breathe. "Tell me what you feel. What you want from me_______." He commanded caressing your thigh with small sensuous circles. "I want your hands to warm me. Your body to mold to mine. I want your touch to set me on fire Comte." "There's my naughty little pupil… your honesty is quite shocking you know. I may have to give you exactly what you ask for." He slid your skirt upward until he could press his hardness directly against yours skin. The heat of him made you moan with longing even as his fingers forced you to spread your legs. "You already want me this much?" He asked exploring the slick wetness he found inside of you. He stroked his fingers against your entrance then slid them inside seeking the aching heat that could be found there. The movement of his entering and withdrawing his long fingers was making your legs tremble and you core burn for him. "I'm so ready for you to take me. Please Comte." You begged.

"Ah, but how shall I take you?” He teased. Comte loved to ask questions seeking your response to everything he did to you. It was as though he were exploring every aspect of you intent to learn everything there was to know. What you needed. What you wanted. What you felt when he touched you… “Shall I be gentle? Tender? Drawing out every wave of pleasure until you beg me to finish you? " He asked. "Or shall I punish you? My naughty girl who daydreams during her lessons. Allowing her mind to wander… to contemplate making love, instead of focusing on her lessons." You were already so wet you were dripping down your thighs. At your moan of pleasure he pressed himself between your legs. He refused to enter you yet but just having the length of him so near made your core contract with pleasure. Comte's hands were hardly idle, however, as they drew away from pleasing you. They began exploring the curve of your stomach and your waist. Freeing you of the confines of your dress he began expertly loosening your corset. When those delicious hands at last cupped your breasts in gentle sensuous strokes another wave of damp heat dripped down your thighs. "Was this what you wanted, ma Cherie? When you were daydreaming during your lessons. Or was it something significantly more naughty?" “This is what I wanted Comte.” You admit summoning a triumphant chuckle from your lover. Comte pressed you against the door his breath heated against your ear. "We are not finished yet mistress. For you see rebellious young ladies need to be punished when they lie to their Maestro. Are you ready to be punished my little vixen?" The devilish light in his smile was one you had seen only a few times. Yet it made your blood run hot with anticipation of just what he may have in mind. "I am at your mercy master Comte. Punish me as you see fit." In a smooth but firm movement he shifted his hips pressing your thighs open wider. You felt the tip of him tease your entrance. Aching for him to be deeper you pressed back against him. A moan of frustration escaping when he did not thrust inside. "How much do you want it, little one? And how hard?" "I want it so badly Comte. Please!" You moan. "That's only one answer. I asked two questions." "Oh God Comte. Please take me hard. I need you so much. Just…. please!" He nipped at your earlobe still refusing to move. "Have I told you I love it when you beg me?" "Comte-" you were trembling so hard you could hardly speak. His fingers had caught your hardened nipples and pinched them with just enough pressure to summon pleasure. "You tremble for me. You ache for me. And you are only permitted to dream of me." "Y-yes! Oh God yes!!" His first thrust broke your reply into a cry of pleasure. His punishing pace was far from gentle yet you gloried in ever thrust. Ached at every withdrawal. Begged him to fill you again and again with every cry of pleasure he summoned. "That's it my little nightingale. Sing sweetly for me. Tell me how I make you want me." "Oh Comte! I'm so close…" The trembling in your legs became too much to hold you up. To support you his hands at last released your breasts. Instead he wrapped his arms around your waist holding you against him. Easing you through the orgasm with gentle thrust after thrust until the trembling inside of you reached its peak. He turns you around to face him cradling your limp body against the warmth of his chest. He scoops you up into his arms and carries you to the couch where he settles you comfortably against his chest. Your heartbeats mingling together as though put in sync by some unknown force.

Comte’s shirt was open though not discarded as were his trousers. Your own clothing had been tossed carelessly across the room landing on the desk. You stroke the exposed skin of his chest as he leans forward to place a kiss on your forehead. “Was I too hard on you, my love?” He whispered. The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. You propped yourself up on his chest so you could look down into those gorgeous golden eyes. “That was perfect Comte.” You smile at him pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I assure you I am completely repentant and will never daydream during your lessons again.” “Well I find that disappointing.” He chuckled. “Perhaps I’ll need to find other things to punish you for, then.” “I’m sure that won’t be difficult.” You stroke his hair brushing it away from his handsome features so you can have a better look at him. “I love you Comte.” He rolled over tucking you against him as he does and easily switching places so he is on top of you. “Keep singing like that, ma cherie… and I’ll need to reward you for being so sweet.” His mischievous chuckle ends in a passionate kiss as he claims your mouth the way he had just claimed your body. “I love you too, __. I hope someday I can express to you how fortunate I feel every time I hold you like this. Every chance I have to love you like this. Please never assume there is anything in this world I want more.” “I feel the same. Every moment with you is so precious Comte. Please never let me go.” “As my mistress commands.” He chuckled stealing another kiss. The first of many as your passion rekindled the burn of sweet longing his touch always inspired.

[alby-rei]

The Frivolous Phantom (IkeVamp; Luigi's Mansion AU, Part 4)

a/n: What do you mean this silly ghost AU has LORE??? What will you do against a playful ghost who can split himself into multiples? Only one way to find out! Happy reading~ ✨

Series: Comte's Ghost Mansion Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi’s Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC Word Count: ~1900 words Characters: You, Sebastian, Arthur Previous: Part 3 Next: Part 5

~*~

You returned to Sebastian, retelling the events of your incursion. The rain had stopped by now and the clouds parted. He scrawled furiously in his notebook, like your words were made of gold. You expected him to be mad at you for capturing a couple of his esteemed residents.

“While I should be, I’m more impressed that you succeeded at all. They’ll be fine. Keep up the good work.”

He took the Poltergust off your shoulders.

“I suppose an explanation is in order,” he said.

“About time, yeah.”

“Follow me.”

Sebastian ushered you into the garden shed. It was a lot bigger than its exterior suggested. Sebastian unlocked a compartment at the bottom of the machine. Two portrait paintings emerged, one for each captured resident. The musician maintained the scowl he wore upon capture while the trapeze artist smiled ear to ear with his eyes closed.

“He’s a writer actually,” Sebastian corrected you regarding the latter.

“A clown-ish one,” you added.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s part of his charm. Come, I made you some food. You must be starving.”

“Yes, please!”

He asked for your choice of beverage, impressing you with the variety he listed. Alongside it, he brought you some bread, cheese, and a handful of washed grapes.

“I grew them myself in this garden,” said Sebastian, referring to the grapes.

You thanked him for the food. While nowhere near a full meal, it regained some of your energy.

“How long till the sunrise?” You asked.

“Not for another six hours or so.”

This was going to be a long night.

A yawn escaped past your lips, but you had no desire to sleep. You returned the conversation to the portrait paintings. Sebastian explained that the residents weren’t originally ghosts, but some mysterious event caused their spirits to roam at night.

One of the residents, a bright-minded inventor, built the Poltergust 1899 to take care of that. As the only unaffected human, it was Sebastian’s job to capture them, lest they escaped the mansion and never returned.

Every night, Sebastian patrolled the halls. And every morning, he placed the portrait painting above their bed to return the spirit to its vessel. When the residents woke up, they retained no memory of their ghostly wandering.

“And what made you think it was okay to put me in harm’s way?” You said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Harm? They won’t hurt you. Unless you disturbed them in some way, like I had specifically instructed you not to.”

You mumbled some excuse, but Sebastian was not convinced. What you had not noticed before were the dark circles under his eyes. Fighting off those ghosts was not so terrible, you persuaded yourself, and you had nothing else to do for the next six sleepless hours. It was kind of fun, in a strange way. A far departure from your regular life. And if it all turned out to be a dream, you wanted to see it through till the end.

After a good while of rest, you asked Sebastian to hand over the refueled Poltergust.

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re willing to go back in?”

“You, sir, still need to find me a way home. But until then, I’ll take care of it.”

He thanked you profusely and became quite animated. Upon seeing your shocked face, he pardoned his excitement and returned to his stoic self.

To ease your journey, he replaced the residents’ belongings in your pouch with a master key and a map.

You decided to explore the west wing this time. The first unlocked door revealed a massive library with aisles of bookshelves on two floors.

You’ve come to realize that everything in this mansion was so…grand. No wonder the butler looked tired. If he held sole responsibility for the whole manor’s upkeep, of course he would jump at the opportunity to enlist your help.

Walking by the bookshelves, your bookworm heart could not help but inspect the titles of each aisle. Most of them were written in French, some were in English, and the rest were new to you.

Something skittered down from the ceiling. It was a colony of cotton-like creatures with little bat wings and dotted black eyes. You waved the tube of the Poltergust at them, but they weren't affected by your presence. They seemed harmless. Cute, even.

"There you are, Sebas!" A voice called out behind you.

You tried to turn around, but you could not move, as though you were tied up. "Oh dear, you're not Sebastian at all." The voice lilted, sounding amused rather than disappointed.

"Let me go!" You wiggled as hard as you could. As you did, the invisible rope around you took shape as two tweed-covered arms.

"Easy there, dove. It wouldn't do for a pretty bird to injure itself in its haste."

You pushed your elbows as far back as you could; you just needed to reach the switch on the machine.

"Where are my manners? The name's Arthur, mystery writer at your service, but you can call me anytime." He winked.

Another writer, another clown. But some things were better left unsaid, you reminded yourself. You implored him again to release you.

“Humor me, why don’t you? I’ve been deprived of good company for so long.” You could practically see his pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes matching his tone. “Oh, I’ve got it! Let’s play a game, shall we?”

He let you go. Just as before, when you reached for the doorknob, it was locked. You readied your Poltergust 1899, bracing yourself for whatever he may throw at you.

When you turned back around, there were three of him. Three separate, identical copies of him. They all wore the same blue three-piece suit with a loose tie, just as they all wore the same cheeky grin.

“Turning your back in a duel may prove a fatal mistake, my dear,” said one of them. “But I am nothing if not a gentle-ghost. Here’s how this game works: Only one of us is the real Arthur. If you can catch the real me, you win. If you catch one of my clones, we get to play again.”

A one-in-three shot at nabbing the right one. Not the worst odds, you reckon, but choose incorrectly and you may find yourself stuck here way longer than your patience would allow. You had no negotiation power in the matter.

“Fine, I’ll play your little game.”

The three ghosts beamed excitedly, zipping around with incredible speed. They roamed freely in and out of the bookshelves. Every now and then, they would look back at you, like puppies making sure their master was still playing along.

It was one thing to play spot-the-difference when hovered side-by-side, it was another thing entirely when they were zooming around like children riding out a sugar rush. There must be some way to slow them down, you thought.

Your first attempt was to brute force it—aim at the nearest one and see what happens. You caught one on his path out of a bookshelf, but a well-timed levitating book took the hit and blocked the vacuum tube, allowing him to escape. It was a copy of ‘A Study in Scarlet’.

“Cheeky,” he lilted. “But I won’t go easy on you. Unless you could offer me something enticing in return.”

With every word he uttered, your desire to put him in his place only rose.

More books were pulled out of their stations to shield the frivolous phantoms. You tried to move them out of the way, similar to how you did with the violins, but these books were too light and stuck to your tube instantly. There was not enough resistance to redirect their course.

You needed a way to shoot them far enough to secure a capture.

You leaned against a bookshelf between the aisles to catch your breath. You had been running around with little success. Seeing you dispirited, the flirtatious triplets hovered around you, leaning out of the bookshelves with arms crossed.

“Well, this is no fun,” said the first in front of you.

“How about a hint?” said the second to your right.

“And a prize for your efforts!” said the third to your left.

While they chatted over ‘prize’ ideas, you look at each one properly. There actually were some differences between them. One of them, floating in front of you, pushed up his square-frame glasses, and you wondered if it had always been there. The one to your left wore a golden earring at the top of his right ear. It did not seem incorporeal like the rest of him. Like he wore it specifically for the occasion. The last one wore gloves of midnight black.

The earring bearer spoke next, “I can confidently tell you that I’m not the real Arthur.”

The one wearing gloves added, “In fact, he’s the real Arthur.” He pointed at the glasses-wearing ghost.

“Me?!” The accused shot back. “I say that’s a bold-faced lie!”

“And the best part,” said the third. “Only one of us is telling the truth. Good luck!”

And they were back to their zooming selves. The machine weighed you down the longer it remained on your back. It’s low rumble went from soothing to distracting as you tried to think.

If the second one is telling the truth��then the first one is lying. 

There was also the issue of the troublesome books that each one kept near and dear. You kept trying anyway. Each book that you caught was replaced by another. Half of the bookshelves were emptied by now. You wondered if there was a limit to their range. All the while, the frivolous phantoms observed your strategy with intrigue.

But if the first is lying, then there would be two real Arthurs. A contradiction.

The glasses-wearing one had a tendency to loop like an infinite symbol, like his course was predefined. The earring bearer always stayed in your vision, but just out of reach.

On the other hand, if the second is lying… then the glasses-wearer was telling the truth.

Another book obscured your aim. A copy of Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’. In your frustration, you reversed the strength dial a little too far, and it shot the book up onto the second floor of the library.

And if that’s the case, then the first is lying, too. It’s worth a shot.

“Hey! That was one of my favorites,” said the earring-bearing ghost. He turned to fly after it, and that’s when your opportunity arose.  

It must be you!

With a strong conviction, you cranked up the strength of the Poltergust and aimed at the retreating ghost.

“Looks like turning your back was your fatal mistake, sir.”

As soon as his tail was caught in the machine, the other two phantoms vanished in a show of smoke.

You heard something clank against the floor. It was the golden earring, and beside it was a little treasure chest. Inside it was a brilliant blue gem, and a message saying, ‘Best two out of three?’

You rolled your eyes, trying your best to push down the smile that made your cheeks hurt. The click of the library door signaled that it was unlocked again. You sighed with relief and made your way down the hall to the next target with Sebastian’s map as your guide.   

~*~

Tagging: @starlitmanor-network

Back to Masterlist

[violettduchess]

Hello Vi! I have a request for you, only if it inspires

Tutor AU! With one or more of your fave suitors tutoring you for your upcoming exams;

Leonardo, Comte, Gilbert, Leon, Silvio and Clavis!

I'd love to see what you come up with ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I had a very immediate idea for Comte so I went with him for this request!

Comte x Reader, Tutor AU/ Modern AU

WC: ~1.9k

The library looms large as you hurry up the wide, slate-colored steps under a sky exhaling its last breath of evening color. The stars are slowly blinking into existence, determined to shine before they are hidden behind the slow-moving blanket of clouds heading their way. You would pause to enjoy the ephemeral moment when dusk ebbs into night.....

Except Comte is inside, waiting for you.

You’re still not sure how it’s come to this. Comte as your tutor. Your mind travels back several weeks….

Several weeks ago:

One minute you're balancing an armful of books along with your backpack and several bags of uneven groceries that are seriously testing your stubborn decision to do it all in ONE trip. The next, however, everything is falling onto the polished grey tile floor of your building’s lobby, the objects seeming to leap like lemmings out of your arms. As you stand there, staring defeatedly at the scattered mess, lost in the gravity of your poor decision, the elevator doors you were originally trying to reach slide open and like the pearly gates unveiling an angel, Comte de St Germain steps out, in the process of buttoning his elegant camel-colored coat with one hand.

Before you can say a word, he takes in your forlorn expression, the embarrassing pile of your things at your feet, and he is by your side, kneeling, helping you gather up your stray apples and the mini-boxes of cereal you are probably way too old for but love anyway. Your cheeks flush as you stammer a thank you. 

You know him more by reputation than actual acquaintance. He lives in the sprawling penthouse at the apex of your building, the crowning glory of the gothic structure, and is usually spoken about in whispers and sighs by the other residents:

“Comte? He’s a museum director downtown.”

“I hear he is a world-famous antique dealer who has made millions.”

“He’s gotta be a tech-millionaire with all that dough.”

“Well I know someone who knows someone who swears he’s a member of the royal family of some tiny European country.”

“I don’t care what he does. He’s got to be loaded to live up there.”

“I hear he’s never been married.”

“My cousin’s best friend’s neighbor's babysitter says he’s divorced from someone super famous.”

“You know what he is? I'll tell ya. Drop dead gorgeous.”

This mysterious man with eyes the color of desert sands is on the ground in his expensive suit and coat, helping you gather your plebeian things and oh, do you want to melt into the floor and disappear.

Until……

He stops, holding one of the books you had been juggling, a surprised expression crossing his classically beautiful face.

“‘The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’ by Edward Gibbon. Fourth edition.” He seems impressed, curiosity flaring to life in the mesmerizing gold of his eyes.

And you take that lifeline, words stumbling over themselves across the knot of your tied tongue as you explain you are a graduate student, majoring in history, mentally preparing yourself for the avalanche of final exams heading your way.

And how he smiles, his long fingers tracing the embossed lettering along the spine of your book, borrowed from the local library. Entranced by the movement, you can't look away from his hand, reverence hushing his voice as he explains how he works for a museum (Points to the woman in Apartment 15B for getting that one), how he also studied history.

And then one thing leads to another and your rambling about the stress of your exams and crunch for time has evolved into Comte St. Germain, the mysterious Bruce Wayne of your building, offering to tutor you.

The Present:

And now here you stand, the night of your final session, heart prowling, turning circles in your chest like an unruly feline.

Taking a steadying breath, you continue up the steps and head inside, enjoying the sound of your heeled boots across the polished wooden floor. Past towering shelves filled with books you go until you reach the narrow iron staircase in the back, the one that spirals upwards to the second floor. Your feet follow the path they have gotten used to over the last few weeks, through the racks, down a narrow gangway until you reach the small cluster of tables at the western corner of the library, the ones underneath the imposing arched window that allows you a clear view of the darkening sky and the pale orange glow of the streetlamp across the street.

Comte looks up from the book he has been reading and offers you a smile, at once familiar and exotic.

“Ah, there you are, chérie. Ready for our final session?”

Something inside you constricts at the thought that this is the last time you will be here with him like this, tucked away in the surprising intimacy of a large public library, listening to his honeyed voice as you discuss not only history, but also the mundane: what music he listens to when he goes on long drives, his favorite type of wine, the best tea for a rainy Sunday morning. And it isn't just his speaking….Comte listens. He really listens when you talk, when you ask questions, when you give an opinion. He rests his chin on his hand, head tilted ever so slightly, his entire attention focused on you, whether you are explaining the fine points of one of the many Treaties of Paris or doing your best to convince him that dipping your French fries in your milkshake really does make them taste better. 

With the glow of remembrance in your smile, you slide into the seat next to him, running your fingers along the soft grain of the elegant wooden chair as you settle in.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you say, returning his smile while looking at the array of books he has spread out across the table. “Let’s do this.”

“Oui,” he says as his smile curves into a grin. “Tonight we’re focusing on art for your art history final. You already sent me the list of pieces your professor wants you to know for your exam so we can work our way through those.”

You breathe in, trying not to get distracted by the warm, earthy scent of his cologne.

“Professor Leonardo is great but it’s such a long list….” Your shoulders slump at the thought of tackling everything on it. And then you feel Comte’s hand there, on your forearm, warm even through the soft material of your blouse.

“Then let us begin.”

He spends hours, guiding you through Girl with the Pearl Earring, The Birth of Venus, Las Meninas, and Water Lillies. You wander through the great masters like an enamored visitor in an enchanted garden, listening as Comte helps you to remember what you have learned about the paintings as well as unlocking secrets you have never heard before. He leads you through the design of the Colosseum, the Parthenon, Hagia Sofia, Notre Dame, his voice a golden thread that spins you across the architectural wonders. And now, in your final hour of study, he opens the book of sculptures. You visit Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David, the Venus de Milo. And finally, you come to the last sculpture on your list: Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss by Antonio Canova.

“Ah…” He pulls the book closer, the photograph of the sculpture filling the page. “This….is a masterpiece of….” He glances over at you, brow lifted as he waits for the answer.

“Neoclassicism…but with strong elements of the Romantic, given the subject matter.”

“Bien joué.” The praise falls from his lips softly, slides over you like melting wax, sends a jolt of heat across your skin. He doesn’t seem to notice as he flattens down the pages with both hands, his bright eyes roaming over the image.

“So you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”

You try to remember what Professor Leonardo explained in class when he had introduced the sculpture. “She opened a forbidden jar and was put to sleep as punishment?” 

Comte nods. “Venus forbid Psyche from opening the jar. It supposedly held Divine Beauty. Psyche could not resist temptation and instead of beauty, she was overcome by the Sleep of Innermost Darkness.” He grins slowly. “Very dramatic. Cupid sees his lover unconscious and pricks her with an arrow, awakening her. This sculpture captures that moment.”

Outside the library window, the streetlamp glows a soft orange. A light rain is now falling, making the light seem as if it is dancing, shimmering against the night.

“Just look at the lines,” he murmurs. He takes his index finger and slowly begins tracing the line of Psyche’s body. It follows the curve of her torso as she stretches up towards Cupid. “Her arms reach back for him.”

You lean in, closer to Comte, watching the path his finger makes along the glossy page. Your heart is suddenly hammering a woodpecker’s song against your breastbone.

“Her hands are in her lover’s hair, the gesture so familiar, so loving.” He traces down the line of Psyche's neck. “And here….she is bent back to him, so exposed and vulnerable, tilting to look up into his face. What do you see there?”

His voice winds itself around you, wrapping you in golden vines of warmth and want. You need a moment to find your own. When you do, it is only capable of expressing itself in a breathless whisper.

“Tenderness. Joy.”

He nods slowly, trailing his finger down Cupid’s strong arm. “And what do you see in him?”

Your thoughts are bright butterflies, sparks that fly up into the haze of your mind and explode in little pinpricks of light. Blinking, trying to control the overwhelming wave of attraction that threatens to pull you under, you reach out and touch the same page, your fingers scant centimeters from his.

“He’s…..adoring. The way he holds her head, his fingers touching her face. And he’s smiling at her, affectionately. Openly.” Your gaze drops down to where Comte’s finger points to Cupid’s left arm. You clear your throat and continue. “He covers her breasts with his arm, shielding her from the viewer, and yet that one hand holds her in a way that’s….it’s so intimate. It feels somehow more intimate than if we would see her bare.” Your voice is a whisper, soft and woven through with delicate wisps of yearning. “He touches her as if he’s done it a hundred times and still revels in it…..” You trail off, pressing your lips together, unable to go on.

Comte’s fingers brush against yours and you turn your head, startled to find that your faces are so very close. Outside the rain gently rolls down the massive glass window. The streetlamp flickers. Comte’s gaze is a steady golden sun.

“He adores her,” he murmurs, his voice rolling through you. You feel his fingers move, covering yours on the page. 

“She marvels at him,” you answer quietly, your fingers curling around his in response.

He leans down ever so slightly, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his words on your lips. “He dreams of her……” 

“.....and he is what makes her waking sublime…” The words are hardly more than the breaths between heartbeats.

His mouth brushes faintly against yours, the softest touch, a silken feather, a velvet caress.

“....He wants nothing more…..” His hand tightens around yours, his chest rising and falling with the contained power of his emotion. “...than to kiss her….”

“He should,” you say, soft as a nightingale welcoming a summer evening. "He should kiss her."

And he does, pressing his lips against yours as the wave that has been looming ever closer pours down upon you both. One hand rises, gripping the nape of your neck with tender ardor. You plunge your free hand into the soft wilderness of his tawny hair, opening your mouth to taste him.

Your other hand? It is still tightly holding onto his, a promise you won’t let go.

An echo of Cupid and his beloved Psyche.

Pysche Revived by Cupid's Kiss- Antonio Canova, 1793

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @kiki-tties

[omkookie]

Guess who hasn't read Charles' route yet...😂 (Oops)

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Yandere themes, talks of baby trapping, isolation... all thattt. 15+

As nice and kind he is, he's still crazy on the inside. Because of his lack of care, he doesn't behave normally. His obsessive traits quickly become evident and as easy to spot as black ink spilled upon a white sheet of paper.

Charles is hard to read, mainly because only god knows what goes on through his head. One moment, he's all smiles and everything is normal, the other he's getting mad over a stranger who looked at you for "far too long" according to him. (It was 3 seconds at most but oh welp.)

You see, he loves his darling so much.

She's so precious to him, and he wants to give her everything that she deserves along with so much more. But he has to get violent at times, especially when his beloved darling tries to escape. He doesn't like to hurt her, but due to the circumstances it's sometimes necessary. He has to teach her to not run away, and to remain by his side forever. Alas, he will forcefully suck her blood and leave her covered in bites.

In nis delusional eyes they're meant for each other. She's so beautiful, her sweet and pure smile along with her precious and caring hands. He wants to marry her and he wants to build a future with her where they start a family.

If she has kids with him, she surely won't try to leave, right? What cruel mother would take her kids away from their father.... Everyone knows how important a father figure is to the children and household. She couldn't possibly be some cruel monster that takes her kids away from their father now, could she?

of course she can't.

Charles has so many ideas with which he can trap his darling, he's honestly clueless at what to do and which to use first.

Should he go ahead and get her pregnant? She probably wouldn't be too happy about that, considering she didn't even want to look at him right now. She's locked herself in her room in hopes of avoiding him as much as she can, so she's currently in her rebellious state. It would be so cute to have little lookalikes of her running around the house though! having kids would literally prevent her from leaving him, so that might be his best option right now. It's also the one that brings him the most delight.

Something else that he might do is just keep her isolated from others. it will make her depend solely on him, both emotionally and physically. He's curious about how much her psyche might crumble. How much could she take before it became too much? When will she finally break and start loving him back?

His twisted perception of love might be due to his past and the people he's interacted with all these years while he was alive. His twisted feelings might have spiraled from a place of confusion, because his love itself is pure... it's just overshadowed and cast aside by the unrelenting possessiveness and longing for his darling that's achingly sweet like a pink venom.

Maybe his love isn't so pure after all? could love really get corrupted by any other feelings besides hatred? guess we'll just have to wait to find out and see how far he goes.

[writingwhimsey]

Becoming Comtesse Ch. 5

A/N: Being that I have had the day off, you all get two chapters today. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 5

Comte had been enjoying his time out with Colette. Her mother seemed to be enjoying playing matchmaker, by making sure the pair had time alone together to get to know one another.

He enjoyed seeing Colette’s eyes light up when she was in the book shop. How excited she had been when she found a copy of her favorite book. When she discussed why it was her favorite and that she loved the vampire in the story…well it reminded him of that night all those years ago.

He however, did not enjoy it when she started to cry at the memory of her brother burning her books. He had wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He knew however, that the book shop was not the right place. He also knew that she may not be ready for that just yet. So he had settled for wiping her tears and buying the book for her.

Now as they sat at the cafe, he watched her glance at the book every so often. She clearly had something on her mind…and Comte was fairly certain he knew what it was. Though he still wanted to ask and get her to talk to him.

Though he had thought he’d gotten a good read on her, he couldn’t have been more wrong in what he was thinking. He had anticipated her asking why he bought her the book or why her happiness meant so much to him. Yet she caught him off guard with her question.

“You could have your pick of marriagable women… and yet you picked me. Why?”

Comte blinked, surprised. “You…want to know why I wish to marry you?”

Colette nodded. “Yes..I mean what could you possibly gain from marrying me? I’m far beneath your station and as I said, I was resigned to spinsterhood and…”

Comte reached his hand over and placed it on one of Colette’s, causing her to stop her rambling and look into his eyes. Her emerald green eyes looked into his golden ones, begging for answers. I can’t tell you everything…not right now. But I can tell you some things. He thought. And if I am lucky, I hope to gain your love.

“You sell yourself short, cherie.” He said. “If you must know, I have been interested in you for some time now.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “But…until I arrived here, we had never met?”

Oh, but we have. Years ago. Comte thought. “No, but I had done some business with your father before he passed.”

Her eyes widened. “You…knew my father?”

Comte nodded. “Yes and he always spoke highly of his children. Though he had a special fondness for his eldest daughter. He spoke of you often and fondly. He stayed with me on his last trip to Paris in fact.”

“The one where he was here for a month?” Colette asked, recalling the trip.

Comte nodded. “Yes. The one where you wrote to him every day. He shared a few of your letters with me in fact.”

Colette blushed at this. “Oh…”

“I felt as if I knew you through him.” Comte went on. “I know it might sound strange…but I knew I wanted to marry you then.” And once I saw your portrait, I knew it was you. The one I had seen so many years ago.

“I see.” Colette replied.

“Forgive me for not telling you sooner, Colette.” Comte said. And for not telling you everything just yet.

“I will…if you tell me what it was my father could have possibly said about me that would make you want to marry me or what it was in my letters to my father.”

Comte chuckled, releasing her hand. “He always talked about how beautiful and brilliant and curious you are.” He said. “And when he read me some of your letters…I loved the way you told him about everything. Even the smallest of things and how it seemed you were truly in love with the world around you and life. How you loved things that others thought unloveable. You love of reading and writing.”

“Oh…don’t tell me he…”

Comte chuckled. “Yes he shared with me some of your poems and the short stories you had written. He was very proud of you.”

Colette’s cheeks became the loveliest shade of red. “Oh my…those were so embarrassing…”

“You put such passion into your writing. I could tell the love you had for the craft through your words. And the imagination you had as well.” Comte told her. “I especially loved the story your father shared with me about…”

“No, no, please stop. I can’t take anymore.” Colette said, holding a hand in front of her face.

Comte couldn’t help but to think she looked utterly adorable. “Alright, I will stop. I can’t have you overheating and fainting on me.”

She gave him a look, though he could see the smile trying to break out on her face. “I am not THAT fragile, you know.”

“Of course, not.” Comte replied. “But are you satisfied with my answer, Colette?”

“I suppose.” She replied, regaining her composure. “And thank you… for all of it.”

Comte smiled. “Anything to see you smile, ma cherie.”

After finishing up at the cafe, the pair walked around town for a bit longer, Comte taking Colette to more shops. Anything her eyes lingered on, he bought for her…even though she tried to protest every purchase.

The sun was just beginning to set when the carriage returned for them. “Are you ready to go home, Cherie?”

She blinked at him, before nodding and taking his hand, allowing him to help her up into the carriage. He then climbed in and took the seat beside her once again, even if this time there was plenty of room to sit across from her. He was starting to feel a little greedy. Especially now that she was starting to open up to him.

“Did you enjoy today?” Come asked her.

“Yes.” She answered, looking up at him. “Did you?”

Comte smiled. “I got to spend the day with you and see your beautiful smile. I also learned about your favorite book. Your favorite flowers. Your favorite sweet treats. More about you. So yes, I very much enjoyed today.”

Colette smiled even as her cheeks reddened. “And I learned a very important detail about you, today.”

“Oh, and what is that ma cherie?”

“That you’re insane.” She answered with a straight face.

“Pardon?”

Her straight face broke into a smile. “The reasons you gave for wanting to marry me…though I think it just might work with my own brand of insanity.”

Comte smiled. “Is that you saying we just might be a good match?”

“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t let it go to your head.”

Comte chuckled. “If I let anything go to my head it will be knowing that you find me handsome.”

“What…when did I…” Colette stopped herself, suddenly recalling that she had admitted that when asking him why he had picked her. “I was hoping you would forget that…”

Comte laughed. “How could I forget? Besides, you are a beautiful woman, Colette. It is flattering to know you find me handsome.”

The pair continued thier lively conversation all the way to the mansion. When they arrived, they both headed to freshen up for dinner. Once they were both ready, they were in the dining room together and it appeared to just be the two of them once more.

“Your mother won’t be joining us?” Comte asked as he helped Colette to her seat.

“It appears not.” She answered. “She said something about the lighting being bad for her digestion or some other such obvious lie.”

“It appears your mother is wanting to give us plenty of time together. A dress for the wedding might not be enough of a gift.”

Colette laughed. “You’re marrying me. Her unwedable daughter. I am certain that is gift enough.”

“Why do you keep thinking of yourself as such?” Comte asked. He didn’t like that Colette seemed to see her value based solely on being wed or not.

Colette sighed. “I didn’t always see myself this way…it’s only happened in the last few years…since Father died and Thomas took over…Father never worried about me getting married. He just wanted me to be happy…after he died, it became Thomas’s mission for me to marry and help raise the station of the family…”

“So that is why he readily agreed on your behalf when I sent my proposal.”

Colette nodded. “Yes.” Though she wouldn’t look at him. “He’d tried to have other suitors for me…but things never worked out.”

He could tell by the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze that something had happened with those previous suitors. And it was something he was certain he wouldn’t like. Not because of anything as her fault, but because he could tell those previous suitors had likely hurt her in some way.

Comte felt compelled to reach his hand out to hers. “Colette, ma cherie, look at me please.”

She took a moment before turning to meet his gaze. Her eyes full of uncertainty and worry. “Yes?”

“Whatever has happened in the past, whatever those other men thought, it matters not to me. I do not want you to shrink yourself to fit in a box of what you think you should be.” He told her. “I want you to feel free to be yourself. I want to truly share our lives together.”

She looked into his eyes, as if trying to once again dicern if he was speaking in earnest or if he was just spouting pretty words she’d want to hear. “Alright, I’d like that.”

Comte smiled. “Good…may I kiss your hand?”

“Yes.”

Comte lifted her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back. “I promise you, I will always appreciate you for who you truly are.”

Colette later that night…

After having dinner with Abel, I headed to the bath and freshened up and got myself ready for bed. When I returned to my room, Mother was waiting. “So, how was your day, dearest?” She asked me.

“Good.” I answered. “We had a wonderful time.”

“I see you have some new gifts as well…and do I see a familiar book?” Mother asked.

“Yes and yes.” I answered, a smile coming to my face.

“Come sit and tell me everything while I brush your hair.” She said, patting the space in front of her on my bed.

I laughed and sat down with my back to her. I then told her all about my day. Including how I had just blurted out my question and Abel’s answer.

“Ah, yes, that sounds about right.” Mother said. “He’s already in love with you.”

“Love?” I repeated, unable to believe that’s the conclusion she could come to.

Mother laughed. “Oh, dearest, it’s obvious to me. I thought he looked at you like a man in love. Now I know for certain.”

“That…that’s hard to believe…” I said.

“Is it, though?” Mother asked, giving me a kiss on top of the head as she stood up, having finished brushing my hair. “Though perhaps I am biased as I love you, too. So I think everyone must see how wonderful you are and love you too.”

“Goodnight, Mother.”

“Goodnight dearest.”

After Mother left…and after what she had said, I knew there was no going to sleep at least not right away. So, I picked up my book and sat down to read once again…happily picking up my favorite book and reading it for the first time in years, a smile on my face. I ended up falling asleep sitting up in my chair while reading the book.

I was standing in the kitchen of my childhood home, wanting a warm glass of milk…but then there was a cut on my palm and I held a glass of some red liquid out to a strnger hiding in the shadows.

“Take it. You need it.”

“But…”

“Please don’t make me have cut my palm for nothing?”

“I still don’t understand…why you aren’t scared?”

I shrugged. “You’re not scary. Now just take it.”

“Thank you.”

I awoke with a start, my palm aching as I looked down at it. I rubbed at the very faint scar that remained on my palm. “I haven’t had that dream in forever…I guess at least this time I didn’t sleep walk and cut myself like I did back then.” I muttered as I rubbed the scar.

I shook myself and stood from my seat, picking my book up off the floor. I must have dropped it when I fell asleep. I set it on the table and made my way over to the bed. Judging by the sky outside, it was still hours until dawn would arrive. I needed to try and get some sleep while I could.

Tag list: @zulablaise @violettduchess @kisara-16 @tele86

@otomewonderland @lovely-bubb1es @lucyw260 @queengiuliettafirstlady

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[fang-and-feather]

Ikemen Vampire - Isaac x MC

Written for Year of the OTP 2025, January prompt: First Kiss, from @yearoftheotpevent

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

Isaac couldn’t believe a kiss could be this good. It made no sense whenever he thought about it before.

Not that he thought about it often. Maybe a few times after spotting a couple kissing... the idea never appealed to him.

Not until he started getting close to her, so maybe that was the magic of love that made such an act feel like this.

His thoughts started to wander to something else, but he quickly shut them down. This was the very start of your relationship. It wasn’t the time yet.

Not the time for who? Her? Or himself?

He pulled away slightly to look her in the eyes, which she had closed at first, but slowly opened to meet his gaze, at first with a look of confusion that quickly turned into a tender smile, then, cheecks ablaze, she leaned in for another kiss.

His hold tightened on her waist, pulling you closer. His other hand reached for her head, fingers tenderly running through her hair.

She responded by kissing him harder. Slightly open-mouthed kisses that stole his breath and reason. That newly discovered part of him claimed for more, even if he didn’t know how to get more from a kiss, but as they parted, he pulled her closer again, mimicking her actions.

She moaned and kissed him back, mouths and heads moving almost in synchrony. And he hoped it meant he was doing something right, the alternative being that she had as much of an idea of what she was doing as he did.

They finally parted again, breathlessly, and for a moment he didn’t dare look you in the eyes, his mind still trying to understand what he was feeling. Until she chuckled and caressed his face, coaxing him to look up 

“Was it too much?”

He shook his head, unable to find words, as his mind started to relax at the realization he didn’t mess up too badly if the first thing she did was worry about him. And that she looked as embarrassed as himself.

“Good. But we can still stop here for today if you want. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I think that would be good. I like it, but...”

“It’s your first time, and, as exciting as it is, it’s also confusing.”

“Exactly. I never understood why people would like this, and it feeling this good makes no logical sense... Although I guess it doesn’t need to.”

“It doesn’t. Will you be okay with that?”

“Yes.” He gave her a quick peck. “I just need to get used to it.”

“So I guess we can have some more practice tomorrow.” Her face burned even brighter at the suggestion, but she gave him a shy smile and added. “And every day after that, as long as you feel comfortable. Then we can experiment with a little more...”

Feeling his face burn, Isaac found himself hesitating to say what was on his mind, but since she could do it, he also found the little remaining courage he needed.

“Yes. I… I would like to study this with you.”

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