#ikevamp fanfiction

[valkyyriia]

Try This On For Size

Words: 2729

CW: Google Translate French, Comte de Saint-Germain’s real name, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism?, Mirror Sex, Creampie, Vaginal Fingering | NSFW

Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt(s): Fitting Room, Let Them Play Dress-Up With You

Note: 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.” 

“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.” 

“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.” 

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. 

“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.

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?”

“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.”

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."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @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 @judejazza @my-day Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[candied-boys]

If you like Le Comte and sexy times and you have yet to read "It Started with a Dream" on ao3, please go indulge in this top tier masterpiece.

[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

[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

[shookspearewrites]

Yandere(ish) Comte, "My Charlemagne"

Hello my little ducklings! I'm sorry I fell off the face of the Earth for such a long time - Tbh, there's been a load of changes in my life lately and I am just always so busy now that I'm starting my new career >2< I cannot put into words how fucking much I have missed you guys and writing and ikevamp as a whole!

I've just celebrated 1 year with my partner (Mr JJ says hi, say hey to him in the comments ^^) and I'm doing 9 til 5 every day at my work placement so that's my life update, let me know how you've been!

Anyways, I've fallen in love with the song 'Charlemagne' by Blossoms and I wrote this piece while listening to it on repeat on the train - Hope you like it!

-JJ x

__________

The gentle Comte's sharp golden eyes mirrored his protruding fangs as they pierced through the darkness hanging in cold Parisian air, violence brewing within his usually still core. Usually the lilting, soothing sound of the sweet mademoiselle's laugh would bring a smile to his handsome features, instead now there blossomed a deep scowl, a growl tearing from his throat as another man dared to rest his hand upon his lady's cheek - A man the Count thought of as an old friend, nonetheless. The nobleman snarled at the swirl of cigarillo smoke that hung thick in the air, circling the young lady like a halo as it slowly rose and was no doubt clinging to her clothing, staining it with another man's scent where her delicate, floral perfume should prevail. Where he should be able to smell her delectable blood, like nectar, flowing beneath her impossibly blemishless skin, waiting with baited breath until he could devour her. Her laugh, her blood, her love should've belonged to him, not another - now the dear Comte was no angel, but a Goddess like her deserved nothing less than he and he alone. He didn't like to admit that he was a jealous man, but the evidence was all there: Bloodlust on the tongue, a violent rage brewing in the gut and heartbreak pulling taught the strings within. Comte couldn't bare to watch the romantic scene unfolding by the river bank underneath the sky adorned with flickering stars for another moment. He took a short, sharp swig from the ornate hip flask he carried and turned on his heel, his body heavy like lead, weighed down with torment as he began to return home. Alone.

Time is the only true purgatory.

[fang-and-feather]

Ikemen Vampire - Mozart x Reader

Written for Day 2 of Visions of Temptation by @xxsycamore

Prompt: Handjobs

NSFW

Words: 899

I finally finished one. Not sure about the ending of this but... And yeah, i recycled last year's banner...

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

“I still can’t believe you agreed to this one.” You told your boyfriend as he helped you into the carriage. “We have quite a trip ahead. Are you sure you will be okay?”

“With you by my side, I will manage.” Wolf kissed the back of your hand before climbing after you.

You smiled. It was sweet that he felt so safe with you, but you were still worried. Even you weren’t sure how you would hold up.

It was a hot summer evening and you would be locked up in this “box” for at least an hour. Twice.

Most of his performances had been in town or close to it. Usually a fifteen to twenty minute ride. This one was… In the next town? You weren’t even sure. But it probably was an extraordinary opportunity if your boyfriend agreed to it despite his fear of carriages.

Or maybe Comte just bribed him again.

Whatever the reason, the start of the trip was like any other. Wolf started off a little nervous, but you held his hand and his attention went entirely to you. You talked about a lot of things, but by now that conversation had died out.

At first the silence was comforting, and you just sat side by side, in as much contact as possible, but after a moment when the carriage jerked violently.

Wolf’s hold on your hand tightened, but his attention was outside in a vain attempt to watch the road.

Sincerely, not even you knew where you were at this point and if the roads were safe, but you had to reassure your boyfriend somehow. You didn’t think something would happen, anyway.

So you also tightened your hold on his hand, and when that didn’t even make him look at you, you kissed his neck, making him jump and finally turn around.

“What was that?”

“Does it bother you?” You asked with a smirk, pulling his hand up and kissing it.

“No. But why?”

“I’m bored, and you need a distraction. And we still have a while here… alone. Well, mostly.” You leaned in and brushed your lips against his, feeling him tense for a moment, then relax.

He started to chase after you when you pulled away, but stopped himself.

“You will ruin your makeup.” He warned.

“This one won’t get out so easily. And even if it did, I could always reapply it.” You kissed him again.

This time, his free hand slipped yo your neck, careful not to mess your hair, and he deepened the kiss.

Your free hand moved to his pants, gently squeezing him through it, feeling how he was starting to come to life already.

“Does the situation please you, or do I really arouse you that easily?” You asked in a whisper.

“You know the answer to that, Meine Liebe.” He replied, stubbornly. “Is your method of distraction just attempting to tease me?”

“Why?” You rubbed him, gaining a low groan. “Did you expect more? In here?” But even as you said that, you put more pressure to your movements and he was hardening under your touch. “Do you think you can stay quiet enough?”

You didn’t wait for an answer, though. His tone was enough approval, and you moved to unbuckle his belt. He helped you remove his pants, refusing to let go of your hand.

“I could always bite you if I feel like I can’t.” Wolf grinned, finally answering you. “That won’t mess up your dress.”

He gulped and his smirk vanished as you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. He wasn’t fully hard yet, so you lightly dragged your hand up until you could reach to tub your thumb over the head.

His groan was slighter louder, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Someone is very sensitive today.” You whispered in his ear. “I wish we were somewhere private, so I could show you what I really can do.”

He grunted back as you gave him a light squeeze, before sliding your hand back down with a light touch, and kept that soft pressure in your following movements.

His hand on your neck pulled you closer again, and he kissed you, muffling a moan.

“How can a sweet lamb like you have so much power over me?”

“Because you belong to me, Wolf. Just like I belong to you.”

You kissed him back, tightening your hold on him and building a new, faster pace, and his hold on you tightened back.

“I never thought not being able to touch you properly would be so difficult. If we were on our way home…”

His words were lost in another groan as you focused your efforts on the leaking head of his cock, rubbing it with the palm of your hand.

“If we were on our way home, I know neither of us would be holding back, except from making more noise.”

Wolf chuckled and kissed your neck.

“If you could keep yourself from making noise.”

“Me?” You gave him a light squeeze. “Are you confident you would fare better if I wasn’t holding back?”

“That depends on what you have to give, Meine Liebe.” His fangs teased your skin.

You mentally cursed this party that had both of you holding back so much, but you tried to focus back. You had a task literally at hand right now.

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

[valkyyriia]

Trecento

Words: 3500+ CW: Female-bodied Reader, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Spitroasting, Cuckolding (for a bit; consensual), Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Cum Swallowing, Established Relationship (Comte x Reader) with Third Party Sexual Partner (Leonardo) | NSFW Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader x Leonardo Da Vinci

Note: I saw that screenshot and I kinda took it and ran with it. I have no idea where the screenshot even came from other than I saw it and had an idea, haha.

Screenshot in question included at the bottom.

A huge thank you to @natimiles and @candied-boys for some ideas and the support while I was writing this. You guys are amazing!

Also posted on AO3 here.

"C'mon, cara mia," Leonardo purred, gently grasping your chin and forcing your gaze to his. "Looks like Daddy says I have to tie you up. But in a fun way this time."

Leonardo took ahold of le Comte's discarded clip-on tie and wrapped the silk around your wrists and through the bedframe, finishing the knot with a bow.

Leonardo threw you a crooked grin, his fingers running sensually over the golden fabric binding your wrists above your head. He checked the tightness, making sure it was secure enough to hold but not enough to hurt.

“Does that feel okay?” He asked, eyes the color of burnished amber searching your face for any signs of discomfort.

You pulled on the binding, testing its fastness and making sure it wouldn’t cut or otherwise injure you. The last thing you needed was to end up with an open wound while in a room with two extremely horny pureblooded vampires. To your delight, while the smooth fabric of le Comte’s tie held your wrists securely, it was a comfortable kind of restraint. Something you could get used to.

You nodded, and Leonardo smirked, looking over his shoulder at the other vampire in the room.

Le Comte de Saint-Germain, in his shirt and trousers, overcoat discarded and clip-on tie binding your wrists together, sat behind both of you in his armchair. His golden gaze alighted on you, sat so demurely on his bed. The look in his eyes was a mix of unbridled lust and pure adoration as his eyes raked over your figure.

He crossed his legs and leaned back, ready to watch the show.

“Remember, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, just tell me and I will stop, no questions asked,” Leonardo implored, forcing you to look at him. “What’s our safe word?”

”Le chat noir,” you breathed.

“That’s a good girl,” Leonardo replied, tousling your hair affectionately. He then gave you a devilish smirk, leaning in to capture your lips with his. “Time to let Daddy watch you for once,” Leonardo growled, pulling away from you.

Leonardo’s large hands expertly unbuttoned your blouse, parting the fabric to reveal the voluptuous swells hidden beneath. A thumb, calloused from centuries of painting and drawing, teased the tip of your nipple, causing your back to arch as you hissed.

“Bellissima,” he murmured. “Molto bellissima.” Leonardo looked over his shoulder again at le Comte, who was watching you both with rapt attention. “I was surprised when you suggested I join you both this evening, ‘Comte’, but I can’t say I had never thought about it.” His other hand caressed your bare side.

You couldn’t lie either; you had certainly had the thought before as well, but never once considered it would ever come to pass. Leonardo’s very being oozed sex appeal, from the hands that had created some of history’s greatest masterpieces to the beautiful, mysterious amber of his eyes, to the toned muscles of his form. You would have to have been blind to not find him attractive, and even then you weren’t sure; the low baritone of his voice was alluring on its own.

Frankly, it wasn’t fair.

Leonardo’s gloved hands explored your body as if it were a work of art, mapping every feature to memory. The attention normally would have embarrassed you, but between your hands being suspended above your head and the exquisite pleasure he was giving you just by caressing your skin, it wasn’t like you could hide your face. All you could do was gasp in response.

“I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet, cara mia, and you’re already whining for more,” Leonardo teased, grasping your breast and giving it a squeeze. You arched at the contact and the feeling of his glove against your sensitive skin, pulling at your restraints. The golden silk of Comte’s clip-on tie held fast. You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together.

The thought of your partner watching his best friend touch you in the most intimate ways made every touch, every glance, all the more gratifying. You made eye contact with him over Leonardo’s shoulder, noting the darkened haze of desire in them. He looked at you and licked his lips. You saw the barest hint of a fang peeking out from his mouth. The added eroticism from seeing your partner’s raw desire like this caused warmth to pool in your belly.

Le Comte was so graciously allowing you to sleep with his very hot best friend. The least you could do is make it more fun for him, too.

You looked up at Leonardo imploringly. Fortunately, the other vampire was good at non-verbal communication, and responded with a cheeky grin and a wink before leaning forward, his lips settling on your neck. His tongue lathed over the smooth skin there as he mouthed along your pulse point. You gasped at the sharp pain before whining as Leonardo’s tongue soothed the red mark he left behind. His fingers gently brushed against the inflamed skin.

“Bellissima,” Leonardo repeated, voice reverent.

You could hear le Comte shifting in his chair, the leather creaking as he moved. Your gaze drifted back to your partner. He was wholly focused on Leonardo’s lips and hands at the moment, watching how they caressed and kneaded your flesh in ways that only he had done before. You could see how his pants were growing tighter and watched as he swallowed hard, his fingers digging into the plush fabric of his armchair as though he were having to hold himself back.

Considering this entire situation was his idea in the first place, you’d have expected him to be less possessive. You were pleasantly surprised to find out that you were wrong on that front.

“You make the most exquisite noises, cara mia,” Leonardo whispered against your heated flesh. “I want to hear you screaming so loudly you can’t speak tomorrow.”

Leonardo’s lips drifted further down your chest, taking a peaked nipple between the blunted edges of his teeth. You arched further, pushing your breast further into his mouth as you struggled against the fabric of your restraints. Leonardo’s free hand massaged the neglected flesh of your other breast before switching sides, his talented fingers teasing your saliva-dampened nipple.

“Leonardo,” you breathed. “You’re such a tease.”

He released your nipple with a lewd pop, looking at you with a Cheshire grin. “Have I ever given you any indication otherwise, cara mia?” His fingers dipped below the waistband of your skirt, slowly easing the fabric off of your hips and maintaining eye contact while doing so.

The sinful look in his eye caused you to clench around nothing, your thighs shifting in discomfort.

He sat back, fully admiring the view. You made to close your legs but Leonardo clicked his tongue, his hands quickly moving to hold them apart, his thumbs caressing your inner knees. “Maybe we should have gotten ties for her legs as well, ‘Comte’.”

“I’ll have a word with my tailor in the morning,” le Comte replied instantly, his voice deep with desire.

You bit your lip in response. With Leonardo holding your knees apart, there was no rubbing your thighs together to relieve any pressure, nor could you hide your arousal.

Leonardo’s hands moved up your thighs, his thumbs running over the soft flesh there. “You truly are beautiful, cara mia,” Leonardo murmured. He released your legs, sitting back for a moment and shucking off his shirt, followed by his fingerless gloves. He left his pants on for now, turning his head to look at le Comte. You adjusted yourself so you could see your partner as well.

Le Comte’s breathing was ragged, his nostrils flared; his eyes had darkened to the point they almost appeared black in the already dim lighting of the room. The vampire’s fingers were harshly gripping his armchair as he watched the both of you. From your position you could see the glint of Comte’s fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.

You shuddered. Le Comte’s gentleman façade was all but gone, replaced with the visage of a hungry, possessive vampire.

“Are you sure this is still what you want? It’s not too late to stop,” Leonardo asked his friend. His tone was amused, but you also knew he would stop if asked to. By either of you. You inadvertently let out a small sound of protest, causing Leonardo to chuckle under his breath.

He released the arms of his chair, leaning back in the plush seat as he breathed deeply, trying to re-center himself. “Continue,” Comte finally said, voice clipped.

Leonardo grinned coyly, his attention back on you. “We’re almost there, cara mia,” Leonardo purred, his now completely bare fingers settling on your calves. “You’ll get what you want soon.” He hooked a hand around the back of a calf, tossing it over his shoulder as he gazed at you hungrily. The deep amber of his eyes was almost like molten gold, smoldering with a barely restrained desire of his own.

You gulped. When agreeing to this situation your mind had glossed over the fact that both of your partners were in fact pureblooded vampires, instead focusing on the fact that two extremely attractive men with several centuries’ worth of sexual experience desired you enough to share you. Damned hormones.

Leonardo pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, slowly kissing further and further towards your weeping folds. He dragged his fangs across the meat of your inner thigh, sending a shiver up your spine, a breathy whine escaping your throat.

Leonardo pressed a couple more open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, eagerly tasting of the moisture dampening them, before swiping his tongue straight through your glistening center.

You gasped and moaned loudly, throwing your head back. You pulled at your restraints, wanting nothing more than to card your fingers through Leonardo's thick hair. Unable to do so, you instead locked eyes with le Comte, your eyes glazing over in pleasure as his best friend tasted every last inch of you.

Through your own haze of lust, you could barely make out the shape of your partner watching you, completely enraptured. His hand had drifted to the crotch of his pants and he had begun to lazily palm himself through the fabric. Every time a sound fell from your lips, Comte would squeeze his shaft through his pants.

Leonardo eagerly lapped at your folds, his tongue sweeping away your wetness. You whimpered as he slid a bare finger inside your aching entrance. “More,” you begged, your thighs spreading apart as though to invite him in further. Leonardo obliged with a sensual chuckle, slipping another finger inside of you all the way to the knuckle. The throaty vibrations spreading across your sensitive flesh was almost more than you could take, but you continued to endure.

Looking back at your partner once again, you saw one of Comte’s fangs digging into his lower lip. His eyes snapped up to yours when he noticed you looking at him. The look on his face was familiar; he was barely holding onto a semblance of restraint at the moment. You weren’t sure he’d be able to take much more before -

Your thoughts were cut off as Leonardo chose that moment to seal his lips around your clit, sucking hard on the sensitive nub. You let out a strangled cry at the sensation, your eyes falling closed in bliss as you clenched hard around Leonardo’s long fingers and you came on Leonardo’s skilled tongue. Your fingertips dug harshly into the smooth silk of Comte’s tie as you writhed around on your partner’s bed, simultaneously chasing the pleasure and trying to avoid overstimulation.

Leonardo finally pulled away from your pussy, releasing your clit with a wet pop. Your chest was heaving as you opened your eyes and turned your attention back to Leonardo. He grinned up at you from between your thighs, your slick coating his lips and chin. The sight was so sinfully erotic that you thought you might be able to come a second time just from the view.

There was just something about coming on your partner’s best friend’s face while the man in question willingly watched it happen; perhaps it was how utterly taboo the situation was, or maybe it was just the thrill of trying something new, but you were more turned on than you remember ever being before.

You looked up to see Comte’s reaction to everything that had just happened and were somewhat surprised to see that he had tugged his pants open and had his thick length in his hand, his thumb almost absentmindedly running over the swollen head. The tip of it was glistening with his own fluid, the sight making your mouth water. You wanted to taste him, feel his heavy cock slide along your tongue as he -

Leonardo pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, drawing your attention away from Comte and back to the vampire between your legs. “Are you ready for me, cara mia?” He asked, voice deepened with lust. You shivered and nodded your assent, unable to speak.

He pulled away from you and reached down to his pants, pulling apart the fastenings. Leonardo hissed as his erection was freed from its confines and he stroked it twice in anticipation, kicking his trousers off the rest of the way. You just barely caught a glance of the proud length jutting out from his hips, but your inner walls contracted in anticipation. He was longer than Comte, and at least as thick. Before you could really think about it, he settled himself between your legs, his flushed head pressing against your slick folds.

“Remember, just say the word and I’ll stop,” Leonardo reminded you as he dragged his cock through the wetness pooling between your legs, the tip catching on your entrance as he did so.

“I know,” you breathed. With a grunt, Leonardo’s length pushed inside of you, stretching your walls even more than his fingers had. You and Leonardo both moaned at the feeling, your head thrashing to the side as he filled you completely. He rocked his hips a couple of times experimentally before grabbing ahold of the backs of your thighs and pushing on them, folding you in half. You made unfocused eye contact with Comte, watching as the other vampire pumped his fist in time with Leonardo’s thrusts. The fingers of Comte’s other hand were digging into the arm of his chair again, his own eyes glazed over as he watched Leonardo impale you over and over again.

You whimpered and tugged on your bindings, attention returning to Leonardo, wanting to grasp onto the vampire’s back as he fucked you into Comte’s bed.

“Papi,” you gasped after a particularly hard thrust. Leonardo stilled inside of you, looking at you in surprise.

“Papi?” He questioned. Your response was an adorable flush to the cheeks and you looked away from both him and le Comte. Leonardo clicked his tongue, gently grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him once more. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, cara mia,” he said with a smirk, resuming his ministrations with an even more punishing pace. The room was filled with the lewd, wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

Leonardo released your chin and moved his hand back between your legs, his fingers circling your clit in time with his thrusts. You came hard and fast, moaning so loudly you wouldn’t be surprised if half of the household could hear you. You found you didn’t really care at the moment, though. Not that you were capable of much coherent thought at the moment, what with the intense pounding you were receiving. Leonardo’s relentless pace didn’t so much as falter; if anything he somehow moved faster.

Suddenly, Leonardo stopped, pulling himself from within you with a sinful squelch. “Took you long enough,” he laughed, a roughness to his voice that you hadn’t heard before. Before you could really question what was going on, you found yourself turned onto your stomach, ass in the air. A pair of hands roughly caressed your rear, teasing your hole, before your pussy was filled again, a familiar preternatural growl echoing around the room.

You moaned as the hands around your hips moved up to your waist, harsh thrusts forcing your face to press into the mattress of Comte’s bed, mouth open and drool dripping from the corner of your lips. Comte was fucking you so hard you could almost see stars, your vision being overtaken by bursts of white.

In your sex-fueled haze, you were surprised to see Leonardo move in front of you, swiftly untying your hands and tossing Comte’s tie towards the back of the room. You were about to question why you were untied, but quickly understood what was going on as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Think you can take us both, cara mia?” Leonardo asked, his cock edging close to your mouth. You nodded as best you could, your entire body shaking with the force of Comte’s rough thrusts into your wet heat. You adjusted yourself slightly to give him a better angle and Leonardo pressed the tip of his length to your lips. He groaned as his cock slid along your tongue. You could feel every ridge and vein on his shaft and taste the remnants of your mixed fluids as he pistoned himself into your throat.

Comte’s thrusts forced you to take Leonardo’s throbbing cock deeper into your throat, and Leonardo’s own thrusts pushed you back onto Comte’s shaft. All you were really capable of doing at this moment was taking what you were given from both of them as you were pushed and pulled in two directions. You were moaning on Leonardo’s dick as Comte’s hand found itself between your thighs, stimulating the sensitive nub there.

As Leonardo’s cock slid deeper into your throat, you started to apply pressure to the sensitive frenulum with your tongue. “Cazzo,” he swore, his hips stuttering as he pulled his length from your mouth. You kept your lips open, watching intently as Leonardo stroked himself a couple more times before finding his release. He groaned low and deep, his ejaculate coating your tongue in thick ropes. You swallowed every drop he gave you, the eroticism of it resulting in you clenching tightly around Comte’s thick cock, your third orgasm of the night tearing through your body in waves of pleasure.

Le Comte hissed through his teeth, pounding into you a couple more times before flooding your insides with his seed. Comte grunted, sinking into your warmth as far as he could before pulling out. You collapsed onto the bed, entirely spent. Your eyes drifted shut, nearly falling asleep where you lay.

Comte gently ran his hands over your rear, in clear contrast to the punishing pace his hips had made. Leonardo affectionately brushed hair out of your sweaty face, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, before looking over at the other vampire. With a subtle nod of Comte’s head, Leonardo stepped away from the bed and moved to grab a soft towel from the corner of the room.

“Are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt?” Comte asked, looking you over for injury. You were barely awake enough to reply at this point, completely exhausted.

You managed to mumble out a quiet “’m fine” before adjusting yourself to a slightly more comfortable position. Leonardo had returned with the towel at this point, handing it to Comte. Comte gently cleaned you up with it before carefully lifting you up. You let out a noise of protest and he laughed lightly, kissing your nose.

“I did tell you, ma cherie,” Comte murmured. “I may appear to be a gentleman on the surface, and I do try to remain kind and considerate to you, but in truth I am neither gentle nor man.”

When Leonardo had returned, he had tugged his pants back on and reclined in Comte’s bed. Comte laid you down on the bed in a much more comfortable position, with your body half laying on Leonardo. You contentedly snuggled into his warmth, Leonardo chuckling tiredly at the feeling.

“My bed isn’t large enough for three, unfortunately, so it’ll be a bit cramped. I apologize.” Comte was addressing his friend. You were just barely holding onto a wisp of consciousness at this point, feeling the bed dip behind you as Comte took his own place. He wrapped an arm around your waist, settling behind you. The combined body heat from both Leonardo and Comte quickly soothed you into sleep.

The last thing you heard before completely falling asleep was a murmur from Comte to Leonardo. “We can talk specifics later, old friend, but I wouldn’t be opposed to doing something like this again.”

Dividers by @/natimiles

Taglist: @natimiles @queengiuliettafirstlady @candiedcoffeedrops @goddesswitchmother @candied-boys

@fang-and-feather

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[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!

[candied-boys]

Catboy Charles x F! Reader - Part 6

Tags: fluffy fluff, Charles likes his kibble still but not his clothes

Part 5

You did try to hide the kibble while he was napping. You really did. But it would seem his scent perception is just as good as a human as it was as a cat, and he easily finds the sealed bag under the kitchen sink behind the garbage pail while you're busying yourself hanging up the wet laundry.

“Are you hungry?” you ask when you return to the kitchen to put in another load only to find him sitting cross-legged on the hardwood, munching on handfuls of the stuff with a giddy smile like it's a bag of popcorn and not pet food.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺

“A little,” he answers meekly after the plastic crinkles loudly as he clutches it to his chest like you're going to rip it out of his hands.

You suppose he isn't used to asking for food since you always just left a bowl out for him to graze on throughout the day. Now you're going to have to feed him yourself, but the problem is what. He didn't like much of what you gave him at lunch, and beyond those fishy tubes snacks you don't know what he genuinely likes.

Kneeling down next to him you ruffle his hair, then reach into the bag to try one for yourself. Maybe it'll give you a clue as to why he's so fond of it.

It's not helpful. It literally just tastes like salt and dry cornmeal with a hint of mystery meat. You don't buy the cheapest, but you really can't afford the top grade food that's only sold at the vet's.

Sitting down and leaning into the cupboards with him, you pull out your phone and start looking up what cat food is made of, what cats eat on a natural diet, what they like and what they don't like. Unsurprisingly, the answer is mostly meat. Much to your disbelief, however, apparently cats can't taste sweetness. Entirely derailed by curiosity, you pull out a bag of candy you keep hidden in the back of the pantry and unwrap one each.

“Try this Charles and tell me if you like it!”

He takes it willingly and pops it in his mouth, but just shrugs after chewing.

When you ask what he tastes his answer is simple.

“Kind of like my food I was just eating?” With which he takes another handful of kibble and begins munching again.

You try again with a few grapes, but he's even less impressed. He doesn't mind the crackers, but he isn't fond of nuts. You already know he likes dairy and won't eat salad. Debating what vegetables might be palatable, you end up thinking about what pairs well with meat and stumble upon steak and fries, which are salty and bland like his kibble. Not as crunchy, but maybe he'd like it.

“I'm going to run out and pick up some dinner for us. Could you wait to eat more until I get back? If you don't like what I bring, you can keep eating your kibble,” you offer tentatively.

Charles nods and reluctantly hands you the bag, round eyes looking up into yours as he asks sheepishly, “Will I have to use a fork again?”

“Maybe, but you'll be okay, Minou,” you tell him truthfully and kiss his cheek.

At the same brasserie where you first met your little kitten, you order steak frites and also decide a hamburger might be a good backup too. While they prepare the order, you visit the corner store to hunt for anything else he might like - jerky, crisps, yogurt, dehydrated vegetables, and so on until your arms are full.

When you get home you nearly trip over Charles, who is lounging in the entranceway. You forgot your cat always waits for you by the door. You remind yourself you're going to have to talk to him about that, and many, many other things at some point.

But first, food.

Dinner passes with more ease than lunch. He likes the steak better, but ends up eating both the slices of meat and the fries with his fingers after watching you dip your potatoes in ketchup without touching a fork.

Exhaustion settles in sooner than most nights, and you find yourself washing up and showing him how to brush his teeth by nine o'clock. It turns out that, just like his tongue, his teeth are more catlike than human too. Though when you count them you find out he has thirty, which is more than you after getting your wisdom teeth removed.

With a few too many questions swirling in your head, you tell Charles through a yawn that you'll sleep on the sofa today.

“Okay me too,” he smiles contentedly.

“No, I meant you sleep in the bed and I'll sleep on the sofa, Charles,” you correct yourself.

“Why? We always sleep together…” Those round eyes and floppy tail are all too familiar.

“Yes, but you were smaller.”

Disappointment tugging his ears down now too, he protests, “There's enough room for two on the bed. You sleep with other guys on the bed.”

It's true. You sleep with total strangers from time to time, but that's precisely because you don't live together and have to face them the next day that you can. But trying to explain the complexities of maintaining a platonic relationship with the opposite sex while sleeping together in the same bed sounds like a horrible idea right now.

“You're not going to let me sleep alone, are you?”

“No. I want to sleep with you like always. I hate being alone…”

Relenting, you abandon the sofa in favour of the bed, eagerly crawling beneath the covers to embrace slumber.

“Why are you wearing clothes to bed? You never wear clothes…” you hear Charles ask as you pull up the blanket.

“Because you're here…” you mumble.

“I've always been here…”

“Yes…” Words are starting to fail you. “But anyway, this is more comfortable today.”

“Okay. Can I take mine off now? They're really uncomfortable…” he asks softly, clearly worried you'll say no.

Hardly awake, you don't even know what the question was by the time you answer, “Mhm, whatever you want, Charles.”

Part 7

[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

[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.

[not-krys]

Fictober 2024: Sensual Morning

Prompt #25: It Consumes Me

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Rating: Mature, but just barely

Characters: Comte de Saint Germain, AFAB Reader, referred to with feminine-leaning terms (cherie, la princesse, etc)

Summary: Comte spends the morning with his lover.

Notes: Morning After fic, References to 'previous night's activities', implications of period sex, use of French when it is not a language I speak and I used language learning website to help me along but usage might not be correct, use of Comte's real name, takes cues from Comte's Fully-Voiced Story where you spend the day with him, not beta-read

WC: 568

Happy Birthday, Comte! I didn't make you cry this year! And tagging @fictober-event in case it doesn't show up in the tags again!

Also on ao3!

And check out my masterlist too!

-----

Soft light seeped slowly into the room, to give its occupants a gentle reminder that the day was starting soon. Comte rubbed his eyes, grumbling quietly as the sun shone into them.

"Hmm… morning already?"

He looked at his side, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Now, where is my beautiful lover?" Comte whispered. "Still in the land of dreams, I see."

He laid back down, resting his chin in his hand.

"You look so peaceful, ma cherie. I hope you're having good dreams with that smile on your face."

His fingers brushed back your hair, barely a breath of a touch.

"You're so vulnerable right now. I could do so many things while you're away from me like this. The possibilities… they consume me."

His first thought was to kiss your forehead, pressing gently.

"I could do that."

Your cheek was next.

"Or that."

He kissed your nose.

"Still asleep after all that? Well, I could always try harder."

He tilted your chin up, pressing your lips together and holding them sweetly. 

"Hmm… you're blushing, la princesse. And so much so, from a few good morning kisses."

He chuckles quietly as he peppers your face with a few more kisses.

"I won't go any further until you're awake, cherie. If you want something deeper, you'll have to open your eyes."

"Abel…" your voice was hoarse, still full of sleep. Comte chuckled again.

"Good morning, my love."

"It's so early…"

"You were being so cute, I couldn't resist giving you some kisses."

You hid your face in his chest, grumbling.

"Haha, pardon, pardon. You're still tired, I see. Guess I did wear you out last night, didn't I?"

"Let me sleep," you pleaded with him.

He brushed you hair back, watching as the strands glided through his fingers.

"Of course, cherie. I'm sorry for waking you. Just couldn't help myself."

"You don't sound very sorry."

"When it comes to you, I could never be sorry."

"You're too cheery right now…"

"In my defense, you're too adorable. I can't help it." Another kiss accompanied your sleepy mumbles.

"When ma princesse is more cognizant, how about we have breakfast here today?"

You shifted closer. "Why?"

"Why? Well, because I still want you all to myself. That's acceptable every now and then, isn't it?"

"…Maybe."

"Only a maybe? You wound me.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

"Teasing, mon cher."

"Well, I have heard that hunger makes one prone to being churlishness, so I just might need to leave you, briefly, to fetch some breakfast."

"So I'll be nicer to you?"

"Treat me as you see fit, of course, but I plan to spoil you relentlessly, in as many ways as I can."

He stood up, feeling the small bruises surrounding his neck ache less as the minutes passed. A brief glance in the mirror showed them already fading. However, his lips and fingertips were also stained a faded reddish-brown, standing out against his golden dressing robe. He turned back to you with a gentle smile and one more kiss.

"Stay in bed and relax. I'll be back soon."

He pulled the covers over you to keep you warm while he left the room, quietly opening and closing the door behind him. He then rubbed his neck, the little bruises even less painless as he walked down the hallway.

"Already almost gone. A shame, really. She tried so hard, too."

[writingwhimsey]

How about 13 with Napoleon? 🥺 Did i hear mating season?? 👀

Thank you for the request! This one was fun! Hope you're ready for some super spicy Napoleon who wants nothing more than to mate with you over and over again!

Smut is In the Air Event

Suitor: ikevamp Napoleon

Prompt: "Get back down here, we're not done yet."

NSFW 18+ content

Mating Season

I walked into Le Comte’s study. “Sebastian said you wanted to see me?” I asked as I stepped inside.

“Ah, yes, come have some tea with me, ma cherie.” Le Comte greeted me with a warm smile. “I just had something I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Oh?” I asked, sitting down in a chair opposite Comte as he poured tea for the two of us. “What is it?”

“Well…it’s more of a warning I feel I should give you.”

“A warning? About what? Has there been something happening in town?” I asked, worried.

“No, nothing like that.” Le Comte replied. “I just thought with spring being in the air, I should tell you about something that can happen to vampires, at least for those who have found someone they love.”

“Yes?”

“Sometimes…during spring after, finding a lover, some vampires…experience a…mating season if you will, during the spring.” Comte explained.

“Mating season?” I asked.

“Yes, female vampires will experience a, something like a heat and male vampires will go into …something like a rut. Experiencing very intense desires to be with the one they love and possibly conceive a child.”

“Are…are you saying this might happen with Napoleon?” I asked, my eyes going wide as my cheeks reddened.

“It’s possible, but the desire might not be as strong with a lesser vampire as it would be with a pureblood vampire.” Comte said. “But I thought you should know so you can be prepared.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Comte.” I replied.

Comte and I chatted a few more moments before I was returning to my chores. My mind couldn’t help but to wander to my conversation with Comte. Nor could I stop myself from thinking what it might be like if Napoleon did experience this rut, mating season thing. We had been discussing the possibility of having children recently…and if he really wanted to and had such an intense desire…could I ever really resist? I don’t think I could.

I found myself in the room Napoleon and I shared, putting away the days laundry and changing the sheets. I was bent over the bed, smoothing out the sheets when I felt two strong, familiar arms wrap around my waist. He pulled me closer and I felt his nose nuzzling against my neck.

“Napoleon…”

“Mmmm…nunuche, you…smell extra sweet today.” He breathed into my ear.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. Was this what Comte was talking about. “Oh? I haven’t done anything special.” I replied.

“No, new perfume?” Napoleon asked, sliding his nose along my neck as he breathed in my scent.

“N-no…”

“Then…it must be you, nunuche.” He said, placing a kiss on the side of my neck. “It’s quite an intoxicating scent.”

“N-Napoleon…” I gasped as yet another delightful shiver made its way down my spine. “I-I need to…finish up my…work for the day.” 

“Mmm…you can always get back to that later, nunuche.” Napoleon replied, his voice practically a purr in my ear. His hand moved to undo the top few buttons of my shirt. He was then opening my collar so that he could place nibbling kisses along the side of my neck and shoulder. “I can’t possibly think of letting you go right now.”

“Mmm…ngh…” I moaned with each kiss. “W-what can…you think of doing then?” I asked, my voice coming out raspier than I intended.

“Mmm…you.” Napoleon answered. “I can’t help myself…all I want to do is make love to you…and perhaps…get you pregnant…I can’t help but to think you would be even more beautiful carrying a baby we made together…”

His hand was slipping inside my open shirt then, moving to fondle my breasts even as his lips continued their sweet attack on my neck and shoulder. It seemed he was being affected by the mating season Comte had warned me about…but my mind was starting to become hazy and all I could think about was Napoleon’s hands and lips on me and how much I wanted him. Besides… he was the man I loved…I did want children with him…and he did make it sound rather nice…

His other hand slid down my thigh and then up under my skirt. He pushed my panties aside and then slid his fingers to stroke my sensitive bud. “Ahn…N-Napoleon…” I moaned as I found myself grinding myself into his hand, seeking further stimulation.

“Mmm…you’re already so wet for me.” He murmured in my ear as he moved his fingers back further to slide into my slick heat. “You want me as much as I want you.”

“Yes…Napoleon…yes…please…” I found myself begging, wanting him to fill me and pound me into the mattress.

“Then who am I to say no?” Napoleon said before bending me back over the bed and lifting my skirt. He ripped my panties off and then I heard him unbuckling his pants and then they were hitting the floor. I didn’t have anymore time to think before I felt him slipping inside me.

“Ahn…yes!” I moaned at the feeling.

Napoleon began to thrust, leaning down over me, continuing to kiss me even as he tore my blouse off, allowing him to plant kisses over my back. “You’re…so beautiful…and you feel so good…” He murmured against my skin between thrusts. 

“Mmmnn…yes…ah…Napoleon…” I moaned as I felt that white hot heat building up inside me, winding tight like a coil before finally snapping and sending me over the edge.

Napoleon soon joined me in release, spilling inside me.

I had just started to catch my breath when Napoleon suddenly flipped me over onto my back. He practically tore off the rest of his clothes and mine before throwing my ankles up over his shoulders. I was moaning as he once again slid inside me and began to pound me into the bed,

Again and again, we changed positions as his hands mapped my body and his lips lavished me in affection. Both of us finding release multiple times. I had honestly lost count. I had just rolled over, from having ridden him, lying on my back and panting as I tried to catch my breath.

Napoleon leaned over and kissed my shoulder delicately. “Mmm, I love you.” He murmured.

I smiled. “I love you, too.” I was then turning to look out the window, taking note of the position of the sun. “Oh…it’s getting late. I should go finish my chores…” I had started to get up, but Napoleon grabbed me by the wrist.

I turned to look at him, a questioning look on my face. “Napoleon?”

“Where do you think you’re going, nunuche?” He asked, a devilish grin on his face.

“What…”

“Get back down here, we’re not done yet.” Napoleon said as he tugged on my wrist and pulled me back into bed, his hands moving to my hips and bringing them to meet his own so that he was once again sliding inside me.

“Mmm…Nap-Napoleon…” I moaned. It appeared my emperor wouldn’t be letting me go for at least the rest of the day…chores could always be done later…tomorrow perhaps…or maybe the day after…I might not be able to walk tomorrow.

[fang-and-feather]

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Rating: G

Category: F/M, M/M, Multi

Relationship: Jean D'arc x Vincent Van Gogh x Reader

Tags: Jean's POV, Fluff, Relationship Milestones Jean being very emotional over it

Words: 459

Summary: Jean found it hard to sleep the first time he agreed to sleep with both his partners. Instead he finds himself thinking about their relationship and reveling on their warmth.

Written for August's Polyam Shipping Day Prompt: Warmth from @polyamships

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Jean found it hard to sleep the first time he agreed to sleep with both his partners.

You and Vincent had fallen asleep rather quickly, each on one side of him, snuggling close.

He had agreed to this arrangement, not thinking much of it. It was normal for lovers to sleep together, besides you were only sleeping, and he had already slept alone with you, although not with Vincent yet.

But now, between the two of you, he couldn’t help but think.

That you loved him was still a surprise. How could such angels like you care so much for a monster like him? How could you feel so safe and comfortable in his arms like this?

Not that he could say anything. He had allowed you to get close. To sneak your way into his heart.

Your love for him still filled him with such warmth that sometimes it burned. His heart felt so full whenever he was with you that it ached, almost as if it could burst.

He still wished to hide sometimes, but you were there when he did. You dragged him into your radiant light, enveloped him with your warmth. You were like the sun, chasing away the night, until he was warm himself.

This was the happiness he had long ago given up on having.

His eyes burned as he gently pulled you even closer.

All his life, he never realized how much he longed for this warmth. This was like a dream, but it was real. He was loved.

He looked at Vincent on one side, then at you on the other, feeling his cheeks starting to become wet. To his surprise, you reached out, whipping away a tear.

“Are you okay? If it’s too much, we can go back to our rooms.”

Your worry and consideration only warmed his heart further. But these were tears of happiness.

Jean couldn’t find his words, overwhelmed with happiness. He shook his head, smiling at you.

“We will be happy to be here as long as you allow us.” Vincent leaned closer, caressing his cheek, and Jean hugged both of you. “Whenever you need us.”

“Je t’aime, mes anges.” Was the first words he managed to whisper, kissing each of you.

You had tears in your eyes too, and the two of you hugged him back.

It was the first time he had managed to tell you he loved you, wasn’t it? He had struggled with his feelings, even after you confessed yours. After he started to let you get closer.

But saying these words made him feel like he was finally free of doubt and fear.

“Thank you for bringing light and warmth into my life.” He whispered.

“Always. Because we love you too.”

Tag List:

@tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya,

@eventinelysplayground, @queengiuliettafirstlady

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