#ikevamp mdni

[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

[valkyyriia]

@natimiles sent it to me before but I'm definitely far from upset from seeing it a second time... maybe I should read it again. 👀

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.

[natimiles]

KINKTOBER 2024

@natimiles | @valkyyriia

It’s that time of the year! Come out of your shell and let’s go!

⊱ We thought of this list with Ikemen Series in mind, but it works with any fandom you enjoy (probably). ⊱ If you don’t like any of the prompts for the day, feel free to use another one you haven’t used yet. ⊱ Minors: don’t interact with this post or anything related to this.

Kinkipedia and prompts transcription under the cut

KINKIPEDIA:

⊱ Intercrural: between the thighs. ⊱ Dacryphilia: attraction to tears/crying. ⊱ A/B/O (Omegaverse): dominance hierarchy divided into dominant alphas, neutral betas, and submissive omegas. ⊱ Spitroasting: two people penetrate a single sexual partner at the same time, one orally and the other vaginally/anally. ⊱ Non-Genital Orgasm: cumming without touching.

PROMPTS:

1. Bondage | Role Reversal 2. Pussy/Cock Worship | Roleplay 3. Face Sitting | Intercrural Sex 4. Food Play | Biting / Marking 5. Pussy/Cockdrunk | Double Penetration 6. Voice Kink | Discipline/Punishment 7. Size Kink | Blood Play 8. Temperature Play | Rough Sex 9. Impact Play | Guided Masturbation 10. Cockwarming | Face Fucking 11. Mirror Sex | Oral 12. Voyeurism/Exhibitionism | Edging 13. Dirty Talk | Dacryphilia 14. Overstimulation | Toys 15. Predator/Prey | Degradation 16. Pegging/Anal | First Time 17. Breeding | Orgasm Denial 18. Praise Kink | A/B/O  19. Petplay | Blindfold 20. Body Worship | Daddy/Mommy Kink 21. Begging | Sensation Play  22. Mutual Masturbation | Hate/Angry Sex 23. Polyamory | Spitroasting 24. Somnophilia | Against the Wall 25. Non-Genital Orgasm | Multiple Orgasms 26. Outdoors / Public | Breath Play 27. Lingerie | Teasing 28. Wax Play | Foreplay  29. Shower/Bath | Gagging 30. Jealous Sex | Window/Balcony 31. Free Day!

[misty-moth]

This picrew is 😮‍💨 with the outfit choices.

10/10 would be hornybonked again 🥴

Naaahnahnah, I gotta share this version

…and Newt… for science…

[nightghoul381]

*I haven't finished Arthur's route yet so if this one wins it will be one of the later entries for Kinktober >uO

Also this is all x f!Reader unless otherwise requested ^u^

[ask-ikevamp-charles]

Busy night 😜

{CW: images contain sexual content, MDNI}

Always ready to playyyyyy

Pretty lace & cuffsssssss

Ahhhhhh… more… lots more…

It’s never enough…

[valkyyriia]

I am way behind in both reading and writing but I finally read this tonight and-

Oh my.

I love predator Comte.. well I love Comte, but I really love predator Comte...

And poor Leo, used and abused

It was very yummy!! Thank you for writing it and thank you for tagging me in it!!

predator incarnate

Kinktober 15. Predator/Prey | Degradation

Words: 4904 Pairing: Comte Saint Germain x OC (ikemen vampire) & Comte Saint Germain x Leonardo da Vinci

Tags: NSFW! MDNI! predator/prey, slight dom/sub, creampie, anal sex, biting, oral sex, afab character, comte and leo have the dynamic of the golden girls, leo is so over his shit

Notes: this has been brewing for a while, it's inspired by the story 'The Company of Wolves' by Angela Carter from her short story collection 'The Bloody Chamber'. Dedicating this to fellow mustard man appreciator @valkyyriia. No mustard was harmed in the making of this fic.

The argument in the parlour had continued for longer than Comte had expected; an animated show of wits and expertise that was deeply fascinating and illuminating in equal measure. Since she had requested to remain under his roof, Persephone, or Effy as she had allowed them to call her, had begun to open up like a sensuous bloom allowing them all more glimpses of her surprisingly mercurial character. They also began to witness her intelligence and literary knowledge in full, holding her own against the likes of Arthur and Dazai when she felt like it. Comte knew there was a story as to why she concealed her light, and so desperately he wanted her to share it but she was cautions to let anyone too close too quickly. Tonight however had been something of a turning point.

The evening had begun in the parlour, as she, Arthur, Theo and Dazai had been playing cards. However they got onto the topic was unknown, as it was only when the debate was in full swing he’d let his attention drift from Leonardo. Eroticism was the source of the conflict, from what Comte gathered Arthur had claimed Lady Chatterly’s Lover was one of the most erotic books he’d read, possibly the most erotic book in existence. Effy took exception to this and this led to an exciting exchange over what eroticism in literature was. To make her point, she retrieved her favourite book from her room, yet to be written, by the name of the Bloody Chamber by an author called Angela Carter. It was a collection of fairy tales, her favourite she explained was a particular story called ‘The Company of Wolves’ and to make her point she and Arthur decided to read passages from their respective texts to prove their point. Arthur, not only a good writer could also recite a story with skill, no matter how dirty. Now though, Effy reclined upon the chaise reading this tale to a room of predators; yes the story was erotic, but what gave her an edge over Arthur was her whiskey husked voice wrapping around the words, her body subtly shifting as her breath created a beautifully arousing rhythm of the rise and fall of her chest as her voice filled the room. As the story spoke of a maiden encircled by a choir of wolves, the Count couldn’t help but see the parallel of his maiden of his mansion, encircled by another form of predator incarnate; a beautiful moment of fiction blending into reality.

Every eye in the parlour was on her, enraptured at her tale, every eye caressing her body and Comte felt his immature jealously flare. More so when he could see the desire evident in Arthur’s gaze. The fact they’d had a tryst already bristled him more than he cared to admit, making his more possessive vampiric nature surface, little cracks in his gentlemanly facade. He could give her true pleasure that would make her forget all about him, if only she would look his way. Part of him wanted to drop the niceties, ignore the boundary between them as host and guest, unleash the full power of his seductive prowess so he could finally mark her as his territory, lick every inch of her body clean of the mystery writer’s influence. His mature sided reminded him that she was his treasured guest, now resident, not his property so he did his best to push those feelings down in whatever way he could.

The moans bordered on growls, Comte's bed shaking, sometimes creaking under the force of his thrusts into Leonardo's arse. The fucked as only two pureblood vampires could, all fangs and power as Comte took out his frustrations on Leonardo's now well battered hole. The sheets were balled so much in Leonardo's hands that he'd ripped them to ribbons, he felt a bit bad for Sebastian because Comte's bed would be a mess tomorrow between the torn sheets and the bitten to pieces pillows. Comte plunged his fangs into Leonardo's neck, reaching around to give his cock a jerk to push him over the edge. Comte's release followed soon after, collapsing on Leonardo's back leaving the two a panting heap. This had been going on for days, the Italian knowing he was in for a rough time after Comte pulled him into his room after the night in the parlour and pounced on him. At least tonight they'd made it as far as the bed.

"Feeling better now you bastardo bisognoso" he panted as they began to untangle themselves, he slowly sat rubbing his stiff back. He could tell that this had no way satisfied his old friend due to the melancholic look still in his eyes. Leonardo couldn't decided if he should punch him, fuck him or just go drag Effy to the room and throw her at him at this rate. The things he puts up with for this fool.

Comte rose from the bed and rifled through Leonardo's coat for his pack of cigarillos then wandered out to the balcony for a smoke, swiftly followed by his long suffering bedmate.

"First you interrupt my sleep and now you steal my smokes" Leonardo huffed as he took a cigarillo too. Comte had lit his and at least had the courtesy to light him up too.

"Mon cher ami, who exactly pays for your smokes? Who let's you live in their home and pays your bills?" Comte shot back.

"And don't you like to remind me" said Leonardo reaching over and giving Comte's chin a squeeze and nipping his cheek before he withdrew. Comte just blew smoke in his face with a mischievous grin. "Sebas said you told him to tidy up the old hunting cabin. Going to actually do some hunting so it can live up to it's name or are you just going to make that poor soul trek tea out to you?"

"Well, I spotted her there a few days ago looking for it and thought it might make a nice space for her when she needs a break from fête des saucisses she lives with. Apparently she's also been exploring the empty parts of the mansion when she can't sleep too. Perhaps I should build her a dance studio" Comte said with a tender smile, letting his eyes drift skyward.

The Frenchman enjoyed the fragrant smoke filling his lungs as he gazed to the evening sky. It helped restore his energy after his impromptu liaison, thinking back on what caused it. Seeing her giggling and flirting with Dazai had made his jealousy flare again. This was becoming a problem, not least because his bed was going to be firewood if he didn't deal with this frustration soon.

"That is very sweet but stop thinking and just make a move you fool. Also if you're going to build her anything it's another closet with all the dresses you buy her" Leonardo said after a few minutes of Comte staring at the sky like a sad puppy.

"You make it sound like I giver her an excessive amount of dresses, a young lady needs options for all situations. Also, it's not that simple. She was stranded here because of me, she is a someone who I opened my home to and promised to protect as long as she remains here. She herself said I was like the father of the mansion, how could I make a move without ruining that" he sighed sadly

"I think you're more like daddy than father to her Comte. Have you not noticed how she looks at you? I doubt your advances would be unwelcome and cara is more than capable of looking after herself, she has an entire mansion and castle's worth of vampires wrapped around her pretty little finger" said Leonardo practically rolling his "plus I'm worried if you don't make a move soon Arthur or one of your other little flowers will end up the Seine"

"Fine even if that is the case, how on do I go about approaching her? She is a treasure, one who deserves careful handling" said Comte who was progressively looking more pitiful, making Leonardo only more amused by the situation.

"Pffft, bastardo bugiardo you know exactly how to seduce her, she literally told you how the other day in the parlour." Leonardo was getting to the point of slapping him now, his hands emphasising this acutely "Also I doubt the puttana di Versailles is really so clueless in such carnal matters" Leonardo jibed as he drew in another lungful of cigarillo smoke.

"Puttana di Versailles!? excusez-moi, I was not that incorrigible" said the master of the mansion with a look somewhere between offended and scandalised despite Leonardo being correct. Seeing his old friend's reaction Leonardo couldn't help but tease Comte more.

"That's rich coming from the man who was at one point frequenting the bed of both the Queen and the King. Your cock was the main thing holding that marriage together"

Realising that Leonardo's knowledge of his philandering past was the winning hand, Comte sighed and continued smoking with a pout on his face. He eventually fell back into his dilemma, voicing the conflict that was haunting him constantly around his most treasured resident to his old friend in the smoke tinged evening air. He was talking for a while before he realised Leonardo had stopped responding and there was now a snoring sound echoing into the night much to his annoyance. Comte considered leaving the ingrate on the balcony to freeze overnight but it wasn't worth the moaning that would come so he unceremoniously lifted him into the room and dumped him on the bed with more force than was necessary. It earned him a bite in the derrière.

Persephone crept out of her room, the cool glow of the full moon lighting her way to the vacant wing of the mansion. It was hardly falling to rack and ruin, but the half decorated rooms, discarded books, trinkets and remnants were fun to investigate. She padded lightly down the hall, her black boots contrasting with the white silken slip she slept in. It was one of the many gifts of clothing from Comte, and although it was technically underwear, she rather liked sweeping about the empty part of the mansion in it and as well as sleeping in it. It felt the part of a gothic heroine, which was fitting for the only woman in the nest of vampires. The thought bought a silly grin to her face, enjoying the levity of the moment she gracefully twirled down the hall, dancing through the moonlight. There was no real reason for her nightly endeavours, just that she enjoyed the peace the small hours bought and tonight she was too restless to sleep so she decided to explore some more.

Unbeknownst to her, she wasn't alone. Comte watched, bewitched at her beautiful figure sweeping through the hall. Like an angel come to his home. He followed, careful to mind his steps; he wanted to observe her but more so a dark idea was taking root in his mind. Leonardo had already said she'd told him what she liked through that story, so tonight he intended to let his inner beast out to hunt the one who had so inflamed his desires.

Persephone came to a stop near the double doors that led to the wooded part of the property. She'd not explored that much of that part yet, spending most of her time around the manicured gardens but the bright moon painting the trees tempted her to try the doors to see it they'd open. It wasn't a cold night, but there was a bit of a chill, raising gooseflesh on her skin, making the hair on the back of her neck stand. Her increased sensitivity making her feel strange, as if she was being watched. She looked around only to still find herself alone in the hall, brushing the feeling off as the atmosphere of the night. The doors were stiff, but with a little pushing, they soon opened out to the woody landscape. She remembered Sebas saying something about there being an old hunting shack out in the woodland in this direction and she’d been searching for days. The curiosity led her eyes to peer between the trees, as if trying to make out a building amongst the tangle of wood.

As she was about to step out, a velvet voice filled the silence "Careful where you wander ma chérie. You never know what beasts lurk in the dark waiting to sink their teeth into such nubile flesh"

Suddenly she felt a presence behind her. She turned with a start only to find Comte behind her, she let out a small chuckle at his appearance, the fear receding as she relaxed in her master's presence.

"I'm not scared about such things" she said with a light tone "I am no ones meat. Plus what harm could I come to among you and your companions" she added a flirtatious intonation at his warning, winking at the vampire. Although tonight even she noticed something different about Comte. He'd always been devastatingly attractive, but something about him in the moonlight with his top button open, he seemed overwhelmingly sensual. It was radiating off him to the point she felt herself flush just by his presence, the prickle of gooseflesh growing over her body. His eyes even seemed to glow molten gold, a little voice in her mind wandering if it was possible to drown in someone's gaze. Unconsciously, she moved closer to him, as if hypnotised. Comte's smile took on an edge, vampires were not just creatures of blood but sex too. They were sensitive to the arousal of their pray, long using beguilement to lure and disarm so they could devour their prey in every way possible. It had been a while since he'd let his vampiric self out to play and already he was rewarded with the scent of lust, the pretty young maiden coming to him willingly, body illuminated by the moon, waves of dark hair webbed over pearlescent skin, her pert nipples caressed by the silk he'd bought and dressed her in. What a beautiful sight indeed. However, how beautiful she'd look with a flush of fear upon her skin, her blood pumping even faster?

The vampire advanced on his prey, driving Persephone slowly against the wall until she was caged by him. The master of the mansion finally showing his fangs.

It was in that moment, she realised, the beast began to show his true nature. Still dressed in the costume of his gentlemanly role, but the sway of his movements, the power radiating from his body and the blazing gold in his eyes gave away the true nature of this predator incarnate. Inhuman and otherworldly, utterly beguiling. He could subdue her with his strength alone, but his mesmerising aura was enough to cause her to still under his gaze as his arms caged her against the wall

“Ma petite chérie, ma belle proie” his breath against her ear making every nerve in her body buzz with a electrifying mix of fear and lust “you dance around me in such a skimpy little outfit, barely concealing that enticing body of yours like you’re safe and sound but chérie, you seem to forget that my true nature is neither gentle nor a man” his voice dropped an octave and the smoothness of his tone was now edged with a predatory growl

“Oh but cher Maître, you seem very much like a hot blooded man right now…” She teased despite the tension coiling through her stomach, aware of quite how thin the fabric of her nightgown was, how the silk seemed to accentuate her form rather than conceal it. The comment earned her a deep chuckle, that felt like it was reverberating through her bones, setting her nerves on fire and making heat pool between her legs.

“Oh ma chérie, ma jolie petite listen very carefully now” his lips came even closer to her ear, his body pressed her further into the wall “sois intelligent et cours, run as fast as those lovely legs can carry you because if I catch you I intended to devour every last part of you” his forehead was now pressed against hers, eye to eye with something even more dangerous dancing in them now. He was showing her a courtesy, however they both knew that this would end in the predator capturing his prey like a tiger playing with a rabbit.

Comte moved his lips to her neck, giving a light kiss before he gently pulled his fangs over the skin making her shudder in anticipation, never breaking it but reminding her of his ferocity. The feeling of her breath hitching, her body tensing made his lust start spiralling. Pausing over her pulse, pressing the tips a little into her skin, he could feel her blood flowing and wanted to sink his fangs and drink her blood while she sung blissfully under him but alas that was out of the question. The scent of her desire drifting to him made him stiff, but he wanted to prolong the foreplay before he devoured her fully; the harder the chase the more satisfying the meal after all. He drew his fangs back and licked a stripe back up her neck, halting at her ear after giving the lobe a playful nibble. His lips stilled over it so she would hear his warning

"Run" he breathed in her ear, letting out a fearful snarling growl to make his prey flee. She was smart enough to bolt at that point. Comte watched her run down through the doors that lead to the forest, seeing her merge with the darkness. He dropped his coat and waistcoat to the floor, rolled up his shirtsleeves and licked his lips as he began to track her trail.

"Let the hunt begin chérie"

Dodging between the trees, the moonlight warping them into a maze she she weaved through as fast as she could. The chilled air stung her lungs and sensitised her skin, the silk of the slip caressing and pulling over her body in a way that made her more aroused. She was being hunted, but she had no real desire to evade capture. Perhaps Comte had listened too well to her favourite story but she had no complaints as he stalked her through the woods. She lent up against a tree, taking a moment to gather her bearings and slow her breathing

"You'll need to do better than that ma jolie petite" Comte's voice rung between trucks, seeming to bounce off every surface, shooting straight between her legs making her shudder in pleasure. Persephone didn't need to be warned twice and set off on again, she would make that vampire work for his meal.

She had no idea how long they had been playing their erotic hide and seek, how deep in the woods they had wandered. In the distance, a light orange glow caught her eye, it's warmth standing out in the cool light of the moon. Moth like she ventured towards it, as the glow got larger, she came to realise that it was coming from a small cabin. Perhaps the same building that had initially piqued her interest.

The worn wood felt smooth to the touch, soft almost in it's curves and textures. The door opened smoothly, a wall of warmth and smell of a fire embracing her. As she walked in, she looked around at the cosy space. It was simple but luxurious, as expected of her tasteful master. Leather arm chairs by the fire, a small parlour table between. The space stretched on to what looked like a pile of furs adorning a bed near the window. This place was certainly not abandoned, the incongruity of a lit fire in the middle of a night not dawning on her until she heard the door click shut, the turning of a lock signalling there was no escape.

She turned to see his glowing eyes, his shirt even more undone and tie long gone. The firelight dancing on his exposed muscle, emphasising how strong, how utterly virile he looked. The arms that she usually saw handling tea cups and letters now transformed into the strong, unyielding arms of a predator.

His smile was steeped in lust, licking his lips at the sight of her. He took a seat in one of the chairs, turning it so he was looking directly at her, his position lesuirely as one leg crossed over the knee of the other making the bulge in his trousers all the more obvious. The silence was heavy with their unspoken but obvious desires, until Comte's commanding voice said

"Boots, off" she complied, slowly slipping her feet out of the boots onto the warm plush rug.

"And the slip" his eyes felt like they were setting her on fire, she did as he bade and let the straps off her shoulders. The silk fluttering to the floor around her feet. Not a shred of fabric hiding her from him now. He savoured the sight, enjoying every inch of the flesh he intended to enjoy.

"Into the fire with it" he said, moments like this it dawned how much the aristocrat he was, commanding her with such practiced ease. She bent and lifted the silk slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his through the whole movement exaggerating her form as she bent ensuring he enjoyed every moment of the show. The slip evaporated in the flames like moth wings. Once it was gone he got up and finally began his meal. Her lips tasted of salty sweat and the rose oil he gave her, his hands touching every inch of naked flesh, soft and warm yet muscular and strong. He could feel the years of training that had sculpted her, the thought at her stamina and the night of sex ahead making his erection strain at his trousers. Their tongues wrapped around each other like serpents, he pushed her body towards the bed pressing his pelvis into hers until they fell together upon the soft furs. The tickle against her naked flesh making her gasp as he broke the kiss so he could strip himself. She was certain she heard the ripping of fabric as he shed the layers of fine garments until he stood over her naked and painfully handsome, every muscle defined, his cock erect and leaking. The sight alone made her clench, her arousal dripping between her legs longing to feel that impressive organ rearrange hers.

"Legs open" he commanded, the authority in his voice making it clear there would be no arguments. She opened her legs, as wide as she could allowing him full view of her, going so far as to hold them open for his enjoyment. Comte licked his lips at the sight, her cunt flushed dark and painted in firelight, dripping with want. He lifted her leg, bringing the arch of her foot to his face and placed a chaste kiss upon it, making her gasp and try and pull away only for his inescapable grip to tighten. Next his lips kissed her ankle and begun the journey towards her thighs, kissing, nibbling, licking every bit of skin as he ascended. Soon he'd joined her on the bed, between her legs and kissing, marking, sucking the inside of her thighs until he was near her cunt, her body already trembling at his ministrations. He slid his long finger inside, her drenched hole. He withdrew the digit and commanded her again

"Look at me" her eyes locking with his again as he slowly licked her arousal off it. Making a sound of delight as if he's just tasted a fine wine

"Ma chérie, how lovely you taste. So sweet and delicious, you coat my finger so well I can only imagine how fine you'll be on my tongue" he smirked as he bought his lips to her pussy. He kissed up and down, then took to licking every inch of it, tasting every part of her intimate flesh. She moaned as he worked, not even sinking into the best part yet. He spread her open, enjoying every detail of her pretty cunt and sunk his tongue into her quivering little hole. This earned him her voice wrapping around his name and the feeling of her fingers in his hair, pulling, scratching and driving him further in. The enthusiasm making him chuckle into her. He slipped in two fingers, curling them deep into her to stimulate her g spot, sucking on her clit hard to make her come on his face as soon as possible. He wanted to feel her pouring all over his lips. It didn't take long for his wish to come true as she ground against him and shamelessly chased her orgasm.

Persephone throat already felt dry from yelling Comte's name over as he ate her, but now the real show began. He stood up, wiping the liquid from his face, licking it from his fingers. It only made her wetter.

"On all fours" came another of his commands, making her stomach flip. As she settled on all fours, she made a show of gently wiggling her bottom to him, looking over her shoulder with a pretty look of mischief. He gripped her hip, then bought his hand down in a light smack

"What was that for?!" she asked in faux indignation

"Because I can" he said, his smirk widening to revealing his fangs. The sight made her giggle, enjoying seeing the usually so put together man so very feral.

His grip on her hips tightened as he bought his cock to her entrance, rubbing the tip to lubricate it, then he lined up and sunk in with a strong movement, nearly knocking her forward. She let her arms down a bit only to spanked again letting her know she was to stay on her hands. He started pounding her, thrusting in while using his grip on her hips to to slide her up and down his cock as he thrusted in, the sensations making both of them curse. Persephone gripped the furs as he mounted her like she was a bitch in heat. It felt good to be his, to be claimed like this and she called his name each time he sank in. Overwhelmed sometimes by how deep he got.

Just as another climax was building, he pulled out and rolled her over onto her back. He lifted one leg to his shoulder, pressed the other one wide and sunk into her again, enjoying the view of her reaching into the furs, her fingers gripping them tight, her hair spread everywhere and her body gleaming in the dim light pulled tight and arching like a bow. He pressed their bodies close, enjoying the sensual possibilities of her flexibility that he would explore for the rest of the night. The position was closer, more intimate, when his hips came flush with hers they reached new depths making her scream into him. The sensation made Comte growl, a string of curses falling from him in an array of languages. Seeing the vampire fall apart for her, it was dizzyingly good. He moved smoothly, rolling his hips with each thrust, pressing along every part of her silken walls. He kissed her again, capturing her lips and taking the breath from her, kissing down her neck and chest landing at her nipples. Taking one in his mouth, he sucked as he fucked deep into her, the sensations making her come on his cock. The tightness and fluttering sent him into oblivion too, his hips stopping and pressing deep as he filled her with him. Their bodies stay connected while they both rode out their highs. He slowly raised himself and pulled out of her, savouring the sight of his seed mixed with her. Partly tempted to lick it up, he held off to enjoy her relaxed form recovering from his embrace. The delight of finally having her made the coil of frustration that had been building for days finally faded and he couldn't keep the satisfied smile off his face. He rolled one the bed, pulling her close and running kisses down her neck.

"So chérie, how does it feel to tame a beast with your body" he whispered into her ear, the room quiet save for the crackle of burning wood. She squirmed in his arms. The feeling of her pulling away from him caused a slight concern of pushing her too far to bubble up. However, before it could take hold though, she climbed atop him brushing her cunt on his half hard cock. The feeling made him swell again instantly, the feeling of her suddenly sinking down on him making his hips buck and his voice howl. She let out a breathy chuckle, looking down at him

"I don't know Comte, you'll have to tell me when you've managed to tame this beast" she said as she caressed her own body then bringing her hands to his chest. Her tone was affectionate, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose before she began riding him with fevour.

The howls from the hunting cabin continuing long past the break of dawn.

[valkyyriia]

A Study in Green

Words: 2915

CW: Fingering, Artistic Liberties with History | NSFW

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt: Abandoned Mansion (caution!)

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

Crossposted on Ao3 here.

Banners/dividers by @natimiles.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To my love,

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

“Forever yours,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bonus:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She inclined her head. 

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

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

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

Taglist: @natimiles

[natimiles]

I wanted to buy Mozart’s birthday story from this year and last year, but I didn't have enough diamonds. So after thinking about it for like 2 weeks, I decided to buy last year birthday story.

Why?

Because of this...

AND I REGRET NOTHING. I already read it 3 times and I just bought it... send help......

His face give me goosebumps here. And his hands... HIS HAAAAAANDS, UUUGGGHHHHHH!!!!

Alright, it gets a little nsfw-ish from here...

I had to read this part at least 4 times and I stared at it for a good minute. I couldn't stop staring at his hand and MC's thighs!

And then he... he... the dirty talk........ him saying this is that soft voice........... holy fucking hell

And him moaning... I never thought about him being loud, but now I do and I can't stop thinking about it...

And MC darling... he probably touches you like this because he has skilled fingers.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Comte de Saint-Germain

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

CW: Slightly suggestive. Blowjob & cunnilingus.

MDNI.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed, I looked up at Comte with a pounding heart.

When I gently placed my hand on his erection, he inhaled sharply.

Comte: "Mitsuki, you don't have to push yourself."

Comte said this with concern and stroked my hair. 

I hid a bit of my nervousness and returned his smile.

Mitsuki: "You're always making me feel good, so today, I want to return the favor."

I hesitantly ran my tongue over his burning length, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Comte: "........"

(Is he feeling good?)

(Is this how he feels when he makes love to me?)

I naturally thought that as I looked at his expression.

(Seeing him a bit less composed than usual makes him look cute.)

I was moving my fingers and tongue as hard as I could, feeling my heart pound in my chest.

Comte: "Good girl, Mitsuki."

Mitsuki: "Mmph..."

With saliva spilling from my lips, I struggled to take him fully into my mouth, and he gently stroked my cheek.

Comte: "Ah, it's irresistible when you do this to me."

As I moved my tongue, captivated by his golden eyes filled with desire, I could feel his breathing gradually becoming more erratic.

Mitsuki: "………"

His finger traced down my back, and a shiver of pleasure ran through my entire body.

Comte: "You're probably feeling a bit unsatisfied by now. I should give you a well-deserved reward."

He lifted me gently and laid me down on the bed, spreading my legs and bringing his face closer to my wetness.

Comte: "To think you're this wet while pleasing me, how naughty."

As soon as I felt Abel's breath against my skin, his hot tongue began to slide over my sensitive area.

Mitsuki: "Abel, this is embarrassing."

Comte: "Didn't you do the same for me earlier?"

Stimulated by his entire tongue, I couldn't stop the juices from flowing.

Comte: "You taste so sweet, Mitsuki."

Unable to endure his whispers and caresses, I cried out in pleasure.

As my body writhed from the inescapable pleasure, I sank into the waves of the sheets.

ღ Ikevamp Story Events

[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]

❝ CRADLE ❞

╰┈➤ Soon after you've had the "baby talk", Shingen already seems to be thinking ahead - but not all his thoughts are so innocent.

Shingen Takeda/f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Breeding; Mentions of Pregnancy; Nipple Play; Dirty Talk; Hand & Finger Kink; Body Worship • wordcount: 595 • masterlist

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ request by @writingwhimsey <3 thank you!

IKEMEN BREEDING SEASON - Prompt 5. Imagining you pregnant

"I'm glad that you liked the cradle. I can already see you gently rocking our child to sleep."

The very moment Shingen gave you a brief pause from kissing you breathless, you knew he had something to say. Another killer line perhaps, something awfully flirty or downright naughty, just anything that will make your heart skip a beat as he knows best.

Instead, he brings up the cradle. And somehow, the result is the same.

It's only been a handful of days since the baby talk. Your relationship with Shingen has been nothing but dynamic from the get-go, and yet still, the butterflies in your belly now can only be compared to the ones from those early days. Suddenly there's so much to be talked about. It's no wonder how the late-night talks have turned into comparisons between what childrearing looks like in your head versus that of Shingen's. The modern ways versus the old-school. The shocking lack of baby cradles in Sengoku times, at least as you know them. The passionate declaration of Shingen that he'll definitely make one for your future baby.

Future baby. Yet there it is, standing in your peripheral vision; the wooden cradle he presented you with tonight, just a couple of days after you first mentioned the peculiar piece of furniture.

"Of course I would." You take Shingen's hands in your own, for a good measure before they get up to no good feeling you up and preventing you from focusing on what you want to say - and then you place a kiss on each one. "You were the one who made it. And you did a great job, too."

You linger on his right hand a little longer, with purpose. You can see Shingen's eyes darken with lust as you take his thumb into your arm just briefly, provoking him.

"I can see that you're already imagining things, Shingen…"

Shingen smirks, but the raised corners of his mouth soon relax into a softer smile, and it stays there, even as he disrobes you. He finds you wet and willing between your legs - which grants you a quick look with those intoxicating ashy eyes, capable of expressing things dirtier than his mouth does - but still prefers to toy with you before sinking his arching cock inside you.

"Oh, I've been imagining things alright. You'd be surprised exactly how much I've been imagining things."

You decide to be bold, as if carried by your instincts which are telling you that you absolutely must have him tonight. Silly thing considering he's got the same plans in store for you. Yet still, you raise one of your legs up his shoulder, beckoning him, seducing him.

"Tell me more…"

Shingen wets his lips and gladly complies.

"I've been imagining you with child. The way I'd wake up to you every morning, slowly becoming aware of all the little changes. Be assured, princess, I will notice. Your body that I came to know better than my own, how could I fail to notice it becoming more beautiful? Your belly swelling up with the life we created. Your bosom filling out."

The last part he whispers against your chest, his voice becoming muffled as he darts out his tongue to wet your perky nipple. Your own mind gets creative, imagining how much Shingen will enjoy your swollen breasts, and your belly, and then you trail off to all the parts of you he worshipped and the ways in which he'll worship them when…

"Please make it true, Shingen. I need it."

And so does he.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison   @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @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 @raeraeks @ethereal-blossom Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[blusherbaker]

You came here, to the root and bone... Softly rotting...

Welcome! This blog is STRICTLY 18+ and will include mature content. If you are a minor or an ageless blog, do not interact - you WILL be blocked.

This is a sideblog, which will mostly be focussed on my BTD/TPOF brainrotting, sexy and/or violent twst and Ikémen content, and any other similar content that I can't post on my main.

Posts here may be dark, disturbing, macabre, disgusting, triggering, and/or generally NSFW. If you find ANYTHING here to be too much, please leave. Take care of yourself. ♥︎

Tags for content that may be triggering:

Note: these are for both written and visual content, which may or may not be graphic. ♥︎ #gore ♥︎ #blood ♥︎ #mdni (for other NSFW posts)

Blog tags:

♥︎ #blusher's original ♥︎ - original posts ♥︎ #blusher comments - reblogs (with additions, either in posts or tags) ♥︎ #blusher's thoughts - thoughts and rambles

Common fandom-related tags:

♥︎ #btd / #btd2 - Boyfriend to Death / Boyfriend to Death 2 ♥︎ #lawrence oleander ♥︎ #lucien rire ♥︎ #ren hana ♥︎ #tpof - The Price of Flesh ♥︎ #ykmet - You Kill Me Every Time Note: the above tags often contain gory content ♥︎ #twst thoughts - Twisted Wonderland ♥︎ #ikevamp thoughts ♥︎ #ikepri thoughts ♥︎ #ikevil thoughts ♥︎ #obey me thoughts

You've come home. You'll never hurt again.

moon dividers are from @/samspenandsword; flower dividers are from @/saradika

[valkyyriia]

Oh this was yummy!! As soon as I read the wedding thing and saw which prompt you picked I was like. 👀 I knew you were referencing the Romantic End.

I really appreciate the tag!! Thank you for thinking about me when you write Comte 💛

Lost in Eternity

Kinktober Day 24: Somnophilia | Against the Wall

Pairing: Comte x Female Reader

It's a day early but Happy Birthday to our favorite french noble Comte! This fic was fun to write and something I had been wanting to write for a little while anyways this just gave me an excuse to do it. I did pull from his romantic end and used a tiny bit of the dialogue from it. A decade later and you find yourself in a nostalgic situation with Comte but will it end the same as it did back then? This fic is NSFW so minors do not interact. WC approx 1257.

The chill air and feel of the cold stone against your back brought some relief to the quickly rising heat spreading across your skin and throughout your body.

Abel's hands move from your hips up your back and slowly begin to unzip your dress. The same white dress you wore ten years ago when you married in a late night ceremony where only the two of you were present. Many things have happened in ten years to you both. You welcomed children, said goodbye to friends and those who were like family. Through all the changes the one constant was your love for eachother so when Abel told you earlier today he wanted to renew your private vows at the same church you readily agreed.

“Mmm Abel.”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against yours.

“Last time we were here you had to correct yourself.”

You smile at the memory and can't help but giggle.

“I haven't made a mistake in years now.”

“No, you've been quite the good girl for me.”

Abel's lips captured yours in a heated kiss. His tongue flicked at your lips and you parted them, letting his tongue in and twining it with your own. As your tongues danced together his hands began to assist your dress in sliding down your body. He was bolder than he was ten years ago, not that you were complaining, but at the same time if he was going to reminisce. Just as his hands reached your hips again you pulled away from the kiss and looked into his eyes, a coy smile on your face.

“No…not there….”

Abel looked puzzled but only for a moment as he answered your coy smile with one of his own.

“No one's here but me and you.”

“I know but….”

“I’m sorry but I'm sick of pretending to be good and holding back. But I always want you, even more than I did back then.”

Abel drew you away from the wall and closer to him then began to rain kisses down upon your skin. Every movement of his lips and hands along your body found them in a spot that drove you mad and sent a current of desire out from everywhere they landed. He sucked gently on the top of your breast making you moan.

“Mmmm.”

He stepped away from you and quickly removed his jacket and shirt, discarding them on the floor of the church tower's balcony. He pulled you back towards him and into a hungry kiss. His hands found their way under your dress to your underwear and he ripped them off you.

“Abel!”

“I'll replace them.”

His deft fingers began to move along your clit.

“Ahh!”

His fingers slid further down and into you. As his fingers slowly moved in and out he began leaving a trail of blooming red marks down your neck and along your collarbone. His free hand found your breast and quickly began playing with your taught nipple. You wrapped your arms around his neck and lightly bit his earlobe making him growl.

“Abel.”

Your needy whisper of his name was all the instruction he needed from you. He quickly withdrew his fingers from your core and you involuntarily whined making him smirk. He undid the front of his pants letting his hard cock out before grabbing you by the ass and lifting you up causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He pushed you back up against the stone wall while sealing your lips in another kiss and you shivered at the feel of the cold stone once again on your burning skin.

His composure is gone now, no longer the proper darling gentleman of French society but the conflicted man who loves you and craves every part of you. As your kiss deepens you feel one of his hands leave your ass and trail along your thigh, hiking up the hem of your dress even more. You feel the tip of his cock enter you and relax against the wall as much as you can. His thrusts are slow at first so as not to scrape your skin on the stone even your kisses have become gentle now.

His hand leaves your thigh making its way up to your breast and caressing it. His lips leave yours and make their way down to join his hand. His tongue flicks over and around your nipple and you run your fingers through his silken hair.

“Nghh Abel!”

Your head falls back against the wall and you tighten your grip in his hair. They're signs you're coming undone and he starts thrusting into you harder and faster knowing that you're close. He brings his head up from your breast and rakes his fangs along your neck.

“Abel…”

Even in this state of bliss you can still remember how this played out ten years prior. How his sweet words called for you to join him but you were still afraid and uncertain then, and so was he.

“I told you, I don't mind…becoming a vampire. I still want to be with you, more than anything.”

His fangs left your skin but you could still feel his warm breath on your neck. He slowed his pace and placed one feather light kiss to the nape of your neck before pulling away just enough to see your face.

“The pain only lasts for a second. After that you'll feel such pleasure you’ll forget about the fear.”

His voice was as gentle and sweet as it had been back then, back when you did fear the uncertainty of eternity. Now though…now you smiled as you slowly turned your neck and pulled Abel closer, your fingers steady.

“Abel, let's get lost in the happiness of an eternity together.”

“Cherie…”

He brought his lips to your neck and pressed his fangs lightly against it for a moment before sinking them deep into your flesh. He was right, the pain only lasted a second before you felt a warmth spreading throughout your body. You felt like you were on fire and all your senses were becoming overwhelmed.

Abel began thrusting faster again, moaning and grunting as he drank from you. He used his hand that was still holding your ass to lift you higher and his next thrust hit deeper inside you and the new sensation quickly pushed you to the edge.

“Ahhhh!”

Your walls tightened around his hard cock as you rode out a wave of pleasure like you'd never felt before. Your body began to go limp from the overwhelming pleasure and your fingers lost their grip, you were helpless in his arms able to do anything but faintly call his name once more. As soon as you did he gave one last hard deep thrust and then you felt his hot cum inside you, his cock twitching every time it released more of it into you. He slowly removed his fangs from neck and tenderly lapped at the wounds, making you cry out and your body jerk and shiver. It was then you felt Abel's hand on your cheek.

“I love you, Cherie.”

You were so close to passing out from it all. You just wanted to sleep but you shook off that feeling, if only temporarily, to gaze into Abel's golden eyes as you smiled at each other.

Tag list: @queengiuliettafirstlady, @nightghoul381, @nani-nani-nani, @floydsteeth.

Special tag: @valkyyriia, come and get your man!

[valkyyriia]

Day 3 - Take a Seat

Kinktober 2024 Prompt List | Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 1182 CW: Face Sitting, Cunnilingus, Overstimulation, Hands-Free Orgasm Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader Prompt(s): Face Sitting | Intercrural Sex

Notes: This is I think my least favorite of the ones I’ve written thus far.

MDNI under the cut.

“Are you absolutely positive? I don’t want to crush you,” you said, nervously shifting your weight. You were straddling Comte’s stomach, both of you completely nude. You had agreed to the idea originally, but now that you were so close to actually sitting on his face you were having second thoughts.

“Ma chérie,” Comte replied, his long fingers stroking the plush flesh of your thighs. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have asked. Besides,” he added, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. “I’m an immortal vampire. You need not worry about suffocating me. Even if I were to die, with your taste on my tongue, I would die a happy man.”

You shuddered at the naughtiness of his words combined with his gentle reassurance. His words went straight to your core.

“Now come here,” Comte murmured, his fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you towards his face. “Let me taste you.”

You complied, moving to where you were lightly hovering over his face. He licked an experimental stripe through your folds and you gasped.

He hummed, dissatisfied. You could feel his hot breath coming out in puffs against you. “I told you to sit on my face, chérie, not hover over top of it,” he chastised, pulling you down onto his lips. You groaned as his nose brushed against your clit. He resumed licking, his tongue eagerly lapping up the nectar flowing from within you. Comte’s fingers dug into your thighs, holding you against his face.

His tongue prodded at your sensitive entrance and you let out a moan, reflexively grinding yourself down on his face. Comte’s nose pressed insistently against your clit, sending tingles of pleasure up your spine. Your partner groaned in response, the vibrations heightening your pleasure even more. Your thighs started to shake and you moved to lift up off of him, concerned you were smothering him, but Comte’s grip on your legs was like iron. He continued his ministrations; if anything, he increased his pace, licking and sucking against your cunt with the fervor of a man starved.

The stimulation was too much and you involuntarily ground against his face again, eliciting another pleasured sound from Comte. You looked over your shoulder and were met with the sight of his hard cock laying flush against the ribbed muscles of his abdomen. Its tip was swollen red and leaking. You had the passing thought that Comte may have been enjoying this more than you were.

You had an idea. You experimentally ground yourself against the vampire’s face, on purpose this time, and Comte moaned into your pussy. You watched him over your shoulder, seeing his cock bob, smearing precome along his stomach. Your core clenched on his tongue and you could swear you heard him growl into your pussy. Comte’s fingers were digging into your thighs so hard you were certain you’d have bruises in the morning.

That was it for you.

Your eyes fell shut and you came hard, driving yourself against his mouth. You rode his face, each wave of pleasure sending you crashing harshly into him. Comte eagerly lapped up everything you had to give and was practically begging for more with the way his tongue probed inside of you. The sounds coming from his mouth were utterly sinful.

Finally you tried to lift yourself off of his face, but Comte maintained his grip on your legs. His lips glided upwards, causing you to shudder as his nose brushed lightly against your clit. He sealed his lips around the sensitive bud at the apex of your thighs and he sucked hard, nearly causing you to see stars due to the overstimulation.

“It’s too much,” you whimpered, your thighs flexing and straining instinctually against his grip, but you knew better than to really fight him. After all, he was a vampire; you were just the poor human he had fallen in love with.

Comte got his way more often than not when it came to the things he tried to give you; be it clothing, material items, or the unfathomable pleasure a centuries-old vampire was able to provide.

Unable to move your overstimulated pussy away from his lips, you were forced to just sit there as he licked and sucked at your clit. It didn’t take long for another orgasm to come crashing over you, a keening cry coming from your throat. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes and you shook.

Comte’s voice followed yours, albeit muffled by your pussy, and he lapped at your folds until you were writhing and shuddering against his face.

The vampire finally released your legs and you lifted yourself from his face, collapsing onto your back beside him. Both of your chests were heaving. You noticed with embarrassment the clear sheen coating his face as he licked his lips in satisfaction. Averting your gaze, your eyes trailed down his chest and noted the puddle of come coating his stomach, flooding the defined valleys between his abdominals, his cock still bobbing reflexively.

That sight was almost enough to make you want more.

Almost.

Comte laughed breathlessly. “See? I told you it would be fun,” he chuckled, reaching over to your bedside table and grabbing the towel you had left there earlier. He wiped himself down before reaching over and gently doing the same to you. You hissed and started slightly when he brushed against you. “Sorry,” he apologized, tossing the towel across the room. A problem for later.

Comte wrapped an arm around you and pulled you to him. You practically melted against him, your head against his chest, his steady heartbeat pounding in your ear. His fingers were lightly running up and down your arm in a clear contrast to the bruising grip he had on you not ten minutes prior.

“Was it too much?" Comte asked, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You sighed and snuggled closer.

“Maybe,” you replied. “But I’d be okay with doing it again.”

Comte hummed. “I’m sorry for being so rough with you, chérie,” he apologized. “I always want to be kind and considerate towards you, but…”

You gently kissed his chest. “Mmm, it was a lot, but not a bad thing,” you said with a yawn. “I like it when you leave marks on me.”

Comte blinked and mentally filed that bit of information away for later. He chuckled again. “I’ll tell Sebastian you’re ill in the morning, so he doesn’t go looking for you. I imagine you’ll be quite sore. You can rest in bed.” He pulled you closer and brought the blankets over you both.

“Bonne nuit, mon amour,” Comte murmured. “Je t’aime.”

When Comte told him of your mysterious illness in the morning, Sebastian sighed.

What was the point in bringing you on as a housekeeper if you were always too ‘sick’ to do any work?

Oh well. Maybe you’d be back tomorrow.

He wasn’t counting on it.

Dividers by @/natimiles

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

@fang-and-feather @faustianfascination @villain-hotline

[xxsycamore]

KING'S GAME

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh. What kind of dares are allowed?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is this better?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Ooh! Go for it, Naps!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who is King?"

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

"I guess that would be me."

"It's Napoleon, huh…"

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

"Haha, not really."

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

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

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

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

"N-Napoleon is a sadist!!"

"So cruel…"

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

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

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

"My fetish is, um… I don't really-"

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

"I think I could say… maybe… um.."

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

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

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

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

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

"What did I miss? Broer?"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's me… I hate this game…"

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

"And the executioner?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My king."

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

Napoleon flashes her a grin.

"Very well. The King is expecting you."

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

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

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

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

Napoleon is a giver.

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

"The king orders you to rub his shoulders."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carry me?"

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

"Mm…Napoleon?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am serious though."

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

"I just need to know in case…"

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

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

"Would you like that?"

"Would you?"

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

"I thought you wanted to serve your King."

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

"I do."

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

"Liar. You were perfect at it earlier."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Present yourself. Take it all off."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You may open them."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A pretty mouth indeed."

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

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

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

"I— Yes, my King."

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

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

"Does this… please you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Napoleon— Ahhhhh!!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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