#le comte thoughts

[lecomtesmansion]

Yes, please, my darling?

Franz Kafka, 1912

[unhinged-girls-stan]

le comte de monte cristo 2024

today i saw the new adaptation of the Count of Monte Cristo and it Slaps. Hard. Pierre Niney slays the boots down in this role. yes the acting is pompous. yes the dialogues are grandiloquent and super cheesy. yes the plot has been reworked in a kinda "casa de papel" "ocean's 11" thriller way. yes some of it is ridiculous. AND it's so much FUN !!!!!!

bonus:

laurent lafitte is extremely good (as always) as was pierfrancesco favino as faria who was just the absolute best.

the scenery is gorgeous (c'est marseille bébé)

anaïs demoustier be my wife challenge

bonus content cute lesbians

the only thing i'm meh about is the absolute absence of any poc in any roles even though some of the characters were def written as such by dumas (like the casting of a romanian actress for an arab role ?) / also some period-typical misogyny, orientalism and racism which was kinda expected but still was a bit much.

[chimayra]

Can I say something UNHOLY?

[lecomtesmansion]

Yes. Mostly because love is so fleeting compared to how much time I have to live without it.

You know how to love someone, but you don't know how to believe that someone loves you, and that is your tragedy.

[thebusylilbee]

Edmond's father killed himself in the same way that Edmond was about to kill himself 😞

[lecomtesmansion]

I want to find you in a dark corner of the mansion and make love to you. Make you fall to pieces at my hands where anyone might discover us. Because then they might see just how completely you belong to me.

[theredzelda]

All of my friends are saying I'm crazy but can we agree that people in movies or shows never look as beautiful as when they're completely broken/about to kill themselves? I'm talking about Jinx in her cell here, Edmond Dentés during his duel... I don't have much more examples for it's not really a common occurrence in movies but you see what I mean.

[lecomtesmansion]

Truth

It's the effort.

[fronexus]

WELL FUCKING HEAVEN ABOVE this chapter (45) was indeed bloody- WHY THE FUCK IS BENEDETTO SUCH A BITCH 😭

[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

[sweetlittleneptune]

"You speak French??"

The translations were made by me, as I'm a native French speaker! tho, if you have any issues/questions/see any mistakes, don't be afraid to point them out!

The fact that you never admitted to speaking French to the residents of the mansion was a simple lie of omission. You didn’t think it was that important at first, and then you also noticed how much of an advantage that was. This meant you could spy on some of residents without much trouble at all. Sadly, the charade couldn’t last forever.

NAPOLEON

He had a habit of rambling in French to himself. Random thoughts, most of them unimportant and simple little reminders to do something later. But every once in a while, he would mumble something that caught your attention, and you’d have to hold in your laughter. He had to stop though, once he realized you understood what he was saying and was absolutely humiliated.

It had been a rough day, and the man was frustrated. Between the bickering kids and the eccentric residents, he was practically boiling. That was reason enough to be mumbling insults and such.

“C’est juste des cons. Pas capable de se la fermer, tous inutiles.”

(They’re just idiots. Can’t shut up, useless.)

And it came out before you could even think about it. You just had to.

“Quand même, c'est un peu méchant M. Napoléon. Mais je l’admets… ils sont un peu lourds.”

(Well, that’s a bit rude Mr. Napoleon. But I’ve got to admit… they are a bit annoying)

The look on his face was absolutely priceless. Surprise, confusion, worry, all of it. Napoleon opened his mouth once, then closed it. he reopened it again and closed it once more. Third time’s the charm they say…

“Since when…?”

“Ah, that’s my little secret. Just don’t tell the other, will you?”

Suspicion crossed his face.

“Why?”

“You know, it’s a great advantage to have. Would be a shame to lose it.”

“You’re a devil Nunuche, but a smart one I’ll admit.”

And with a chuckle he left the room

COMTE DE SAINT-GERMAIN

You intended to tell him at first. When he started bringing you to all those dinners, galas, and parties for the aristocrats of the city. You wanted to speak with him and the other attendants. But as soon as they heard the accent in your “bonsoir”, they switched to English, and you rolled with it for some reason. Now it had been months, and you felt it would be weird to start speaking French now.

You were used to being ignored in conversations too. None of it was on purpose and you couldn’t take it personally when Comte was such a popular man to begin with! What you weren’t used to, though, was being disrespected right in your face as if you weren’t there.

The first comment had been something along the lines of “you finally found someone to give you a son!”

Your husband was quick to answer that he had chosen you because you were you. It had nothing to do with kids.

The second almost made you open your mouth. But it was no use. Comte made very sure to let him know he was crossing a limit and ended the conversation there.

“Some people lack manners, it seems. No use wasting more time on this unimportant discussion.”

You simply nodded and followed.

But then you wanted a little treat to eat, and the buffet was on the other side of the room. So, you left Comte for a moment to grab something. Sadly, the same man from earlier was there, chatting away with someone you didn’t know. As soon as he saw you, you knew something unpleasant would happen.

“Elle n’est rien de bien spécial, mais j’imagine qu’elle doit être particulièrement bonne au lit si le Comte de Saint-Germain a décidé qu’elle était bonne à marier. »

(she’s nothing special, but I guess she’s particularly good in bed if the Count of Saint-Germain has decided to make her his wife.)

You pondered for a moment if you should even grace him with an answer. It wouldn’t do any good, you knew that. But if the man had the galls to say it, he surely could listen to your answer, no?

“Monsieur, j’apprécierais sincèrement que vous vous absteniez de m’insulter en ma présence. Et puis, ce sont de riches paroles, venant de l’homme dont la femme est reconnue pour avoir plusieurs amants. Au moins, l’un de nous sait satisfaire son partenaire… "

(Sir, I would appreciate if you could hold back from insulting me in my presence. And this is rich, coming from the man whose wife is known to have several lovers. At least, one of us can satisfy their spouse…)

Red rose to the man’s face.

“Eh bien, je crois que le message est clair! 

(Well, I think the message is clear!)

Comte’s voice made you jump in your place. You hadn’t heard him coming at all! You turned to look at him with shyness in your eyes, a bit worried he would scowl you for your action. But all he did was look at you with pride.

As you left though, he did ask where you learned to speak French.

“A while back, in my world.”

JEAN D'ARC

That night you were staying up late to clean up after one of Leonardo’s raids of the library. It was rotten work for sure, but someone had to do it and Sebastian was finishing up polishing of the silverware. So here you were, going through piles of books left on tables.

Time passed and after a while of not hearing any noise, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit down and read for a few minutes. There was a book that had caught your attention while cleaning up. It was a little book of French fables. Some of which you remembered reading back in school when you were young. Slowly, the stories caught your attention for good and the world around you faded.

That’s when Jean entered the room, in the hopes of finding some peace and some books to help him learn to write and read. Still hooked on your little island of nostalgia, you didn’t hear him at all. And him, not wanting to bother you, stayed in his little corner of the library.

An hour must have passed before your eyes left the pages of the book. But when you did, you were surprised to find you weren’t alone anymore. And you felt a bit cheap about being caught slacking on your job.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Jean. What are you doing here?”

“I’m trying to read this book. But it’s hard, I don’t understand much…”

The poor man was trying to read “Les Misérables”, of course he was having a hard time understanding what all those fancy words meant! You held your chuckle in and handed him your fable book.

“You might find this one easier to read. You picked a rather daunting book to try to learn.”

“Oh but… you know I speak French mademoiselle. Your book-” You smiled.

“Take a look at the cover. What does it say?”

It took him a minute to decipher the sounds and the words, but he managed to read the title out:

“Les fables de La Fontaine.” Jean paused. “It’s in French…”

“Yes, it is.”

“You can read French?” there was curiosity in his eyes.

“Oui, mais pas que. Je le parle aussi.”

(Yes, but that’s not all. I can speak it too.)

“Je ne savais pas. Vous ne l’avez jamais dit.”

(I didn’t know. You never told us)

“It’s my little secret,” you answered with a smirk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should finish cleaning Leo’s mess.”

“Merci.”

“Bienvenue!”

[lecomtesmansion]

So I love all of my residents a lot.

[iphigeniainaulis]

Spirit of Sadness*

Can't believe it's already the third anniversary of the @flash-exchange 💛 This is my gift for lovely @rinaririr. I hope it will remind you how strong and talented you are!

Character: Leonardo

Prompt: You cannot see the light without darkness

*the title of Le Gallienne's poem

Today is that day. 

Human life iridesces like a diamond in the sun. Versatile, bright and eternally beautiful. But when the rain comes, even gems get dirt on them. 

You can't call yourself a sad person. Surely, life gives you lots of lemons, but somehow you’ve learned to make the very best lemonade out of them. Most of the time, at least. 

Yet, sometimes days like this occur. When suddenly the last pack of sugar is gone, and lemons are sour. When the rainfall turns the golden forest in front of Comte’s mansion into a mess of dirty green and ochre. When the brush in your hand no longer follows your command no matter how much you dip it into the deep blueness of oil paints. 

Covering your face with your hands, you try to find a specific rhythm to breathe. Darkness makes your senses stronger, ears and nose catching what eyes can't see. The sound of old wooden clocks. The cracking of the fireplace. Time runs but moves nowhere, so you give yourself permission to cry, warming icy hands with hot tears.

A sudden rush of wind brings you the smell of wet leaves and the melancholy of autumn. Being forced to hang in the air for a split second, you end up in the comfort of your lover's embrace, covered from tip to toe with his endlessly long, endlessly wide coat.   

“He’s caught in the rain. That's why the scent of cigarillos didn't warn me of his presence,” is the only rational thought produced by your tired mind.

“What’s happened?” he sounds unbothered. His long calloused fingers are playing with your hair, a habit he shows when feels nervous.

You’re searching for the right words to come, and Leonardo gladly gives you as much time as you need, lulling you with deep murmuring and gentle touches. 

At some point you accept your defeat and say what’s been on your mind for quite a long time.

“It’s just that sometimes I feel so much doing so little. Today I haven’t drawn a single sketch. But time goes by, and I feel as if it leaves me behind, while others live their lives to the fullest.”

Wiping a tear, you continue.

“And it makes me feel so guilty, so ashamed of myself. The world is full of so many problems that are way more important than mine. Still, I can't get rid of this pain, and it scares me that someday…this dark feeling will never leave.”

You’ve run out of words, and the last of them vanish in the air like the sound of cork pulling out of an emptied bottle. The silence isn't uncomfortable, and you’re grateful that Leonardo allows you to come to yourself.  

The room becomes less dark when he lights a cigarette, creating a puff of sweet smoke. The man’s deep voice sounds like a lullaby, and you press yourself closer to his wide chest, where it’s safe, where it's home.

“I’m an engineer, cara mia, and hardly know a thing about art and stuff.”

A weak smile, the only one you’ve had on this never ending day, carves your lips.

“...but lemme say this. No vehicle is safe to use if you ignore the rumble. Humans are way more difficult than vehicles. And so are their feelings. Learn to accept them, reveal them, that's the only way you don't destroy yourself from within. Happiness doesn't come when sadness is neglected.”

“So, in other words…you cannot see the light without darkness?” you mumble, enjoying the feeling of his voice, scent, words and touch getting through your skin.

A hoarse chuckle is your response. “Couldn’t say it better. You’re good with your words, principessa.”

You slowly sink into the healing yet still so painful abyss of dreams, listening to the melody of Leonardo’s heartbeat. His arms are on your waist, warm, almost hot. Lumiere’s tail tickles your legs. The night is finally kind. 

There are indeed days when you have to face your demons. But if you have people ready to stand with you no matter what, then this battle is worth fighting.   

[skyof-atlas]

Oh, to be blessed

Minors dni

[Summary] To be in a God’s presence is something that can never be forgettable, that’s something to boast about, but to personally be in a room with an Archon? What a rare moment to cherish. You really did cherish that moment.

Content Warnings: Fingering, oral, "pet names", nsfw :D, whining, Overstim, pussydrunk!Furina.

a/n: I love Furina and the thought of her being pussydrunk. not proofread

Paring(s) : Furina x gn!reader (afab)

You've been sitting here for about an hour, talking about an upcoming opera with Lady Furina and what ideas she thinks would be good to add in. “Le Comte de Monte-Cristo” they called it. Anyway, this isn't your first time speaking to Furina.

You work as a director for plays and operas and often times you help smaller troupes with their scripts. You gain quite a popular reputation among the opera community. 

Furina, who loves watching operas and plays, has taken an interest. It started off as short meetings with her about upcoming plays, then it gradually started becoming hour-long sessions sometimes even more, where you both talked about plays you both enjoyed and common interest. It’s become this routine that you and her developed.

Even Neuvillette sometimes joins in for a bit and shares his thoughts. Usually you’re so busy with plays but Furina has taken your interest.  

You've taken notice of how Furina would act around others like she herself is performing a play. Only other actors are capable of distinguishing acting and real life, but with Furina, the lines blurred. You never minded it, but it was a thought in your head. She always acted high and mighty but you wondered how she'll look like when--

"Are you even listening to me? How rude to be ignoring your archon! Especially if she's trying to bless you with her magnificent ideas!" She said, pretending to be insulted and pouted. How cute…

"Apologizes Lady Furina. I was just thinking." You ran your hands through your hair and picked up the script off the table and tried to focus, but the thoughts of Furina were clouding your head-space. Furina took the paper and placed it down. You looked up confused.

"ngh! w-wait!" when Furina said that we should take a break, you didn't think this is what she meant. She bit your thigh close to your wet pussy, making it a nice purple. She left a couple more. 

Papers scattered across the table, all forgotten. Your beloved archon in between your thighs, eating you out like it's her last meal. 

"L-lady Furina..." Your hands snaked into her hair, pushing her closer, trying to reach that high you wanted.

Her small hm, sent vibrations through your body and made you moan loudly. You whined when she detached from your puffy clit.

"My my, truly you're severing your archon to the fullest." Your eyes were glossed and breathing was uneven. Your slick dripping down from her chin. You blushed and looked away. How embarrassing.

"Pretty girl, look at me" Furina grabs your face to make you look at her. You would’ve cummed at that. 

"Good girl" You bucked your hips trying to find some friction. You loved how she called you her good girl. 

"Patience pretty girl, I'm not done with you." She kissed your neck and bit it. You whined.

She brought her fingers back down to your puffy clit and stroked it. She played around with your entrance, her fingers barely entering. You were getting desperate and decided to take matters into your own hands. You grabbed her wrist and plunged her fingers in. You quickly straddled her and began riding on her fingers.

"A-ah?" From her perspective you looked gorgeous. Eyes half lidded, your sweet moans and whines from trying to reach your high.

"mm-ha...ha"

Furina moved with the rhythm of your hips. Her fingers hitting that one spot that you love so much. At this point, you're seeing stars and drooling. You began moving at a faster speed. Her fingers deep and hitting that spot repeatedly.

“ You’re so tight darling~ You sure do love my fingers hm?” She said teasing you as she pumped her fingers in and out, cum sliding down her fingers. 

"fuu--mm...cummin'--" Incoherent sentences were coming out of your mouth as you felt the knot tighten up and close to bursting.

A loud moan escaped your throat and cum covered your beloved archon's fingers. Furina slipped out her fingers and licked off your cum. She laid you down and stared at you, admiring her work. You were breathing heavily from your recent high.

Your eyes stared back at her. Legs spread apart with cum spilling and staining the couch and bite marks on your neck and on your thighs. Her eyes were trained on your puffy clit. She gave a quick kiss on your clit and began sucking on it.

"W-wait! I just cam--AHhh" you protested but she kept going. She wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

"Darling~ give me another one. I wanna taste you again. Please? Please cum again. Be a good girl for your archon.” who are you to deny her request? By all means, she can chain you up and fuck you dumb…that’s not a bad idea. 

You were nearing another high. Fuck she's good with her mouth. She sucked on your clit as she plunged her fingers back in you again. She was moving fast and hitting hard. Your legs had her head in a lock and you whined as you came all over her mouth for a second time. Your legs were shaking and your clit overstimulated from cumming back to back.  

"Fu-Furina~" Her name came out as a small whine. She could only give you a sweet smile but her eyes told a different story. 

"I love the way you taste. One more time?~" oh sweet archon. you certainly are blessed by her wonderful ideas...

[thebusylilbee]

currently reading the chapter Vendetta and omg everything that has to do with Villefort is always so thrilling !!! he's the best villain !!

[lecomtesmansion]

@ask-ikevamp-vlad

Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Rupert Pole, featured in Trapeze: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin, 1947-1955