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klutzyroses · 6 months ago

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IkeVamp HCs: PDA

How do they handle PDA?

Suitors: All

Napoleon

Probably the most normal about PDA.

Handholding? Yes. Hair ruffling? Of course.

The more intimate affection, such as kissing and caressing is reserved for alone time.

Maybe a few cheek kisses wouldn't hurt, an occasional loving whisper in ear at times.

He isn't too over the top with it unless he is trying to tease her.

Because really, seeing her cute blush is worth a little public sappiness. And it would come out of nowhere.

Particularly when he wants a reaction from her, he may initiate it to catch her by surprise, just to fluster her. Not too much though, because he will get embarrassed too.

But in truth, he isn't ashamed of others knowing that he loves her. He will often be found looking at her fondly when she isn't paying attention.

He'll deny he is doing it, but he can't help it. Sometimes he just needs to stop and just...caught up in how much he loves her.

Not that he would tell her that unprompted. That is his little secret for the time being.

Mozart

Um...Public affection? No.

Not likely

If he is out in public with her, even getting him to hold hands would be met with some questioning.

He'd be conscious of appropriate behaviour when out and about, so amorous interactions in front of other people would be out of the question.

His outright avoidance, especially if Y/N initiates, would probably hurt her feelings a little, but it wouldn't be because he doesn't like her touch.

But that's the sort of behaviour he would prefer engaging in away from the prying eyes of the public.

When they're alone, small hand kisses and endearing names are usually his chosen methods.

He would never want her to feel as though he were rejecting her, which is why he would probably address it before it becomes an issue.

Once boundaries are established, its far less of a heartache when he refuses to engage in affectionate behaviour in public.

Leonardo

He is more lowkey about his affection in public, but definitely smooth about it.

One would think they were secret lovers, the way his touches involved brushing her hand surreptitiously, lingering on her skin and leaving it warm.

He is one of the least overt about his affection in public, hence when it happens, it's always so suave and never fails to get his Cara mia's heart racing.

Subtle warm looks, secret touches on her skin, gentle caresses moving her hair from her face.

Those little signs of fondness, brief and subtle as they may be, leave a lasting effect on his amore, even for an instant.

Where he really thrives however, is in his ability to catch her off guard with his words.

Because he is so understated with his physical affection in public, his words pack more of a punch...mostly because they are sudden.

He will drop a casual 'I love you', so easily that at first, it goes over her head, until she does a double take, almost falling over.

He would follow that up by catching her and teasing her about falling for him, causing her to get even more flustered.

A very smooth signor indeed.

Arthur

He is one of the most shameless, second only to Charles.

PDA, for him, is mostly exaggerated to make a point when he is with her.

That point being, he is unavailable and so is she.

He thinks its adorable when she gets flustered over it, so that is, of course, an added bonus.

He is perfectly content announcing their relationship, declaring her to be his love and his darling aloud, to the chagrin of his admirers.

He tends to lean more towards kisses on her hands, winking at her as he does so, feeling his chest swell with pride when he sees that sweet smile on her face, her cheeks tinted a charming pink, earning themselves a quick kiss of their own.

The flirting....the flirting is nonstop, always sweet and maybe just a touch inappropriate with thinly veiled innuendo.

He may tend to overdo it at times, but really, he is just being silly intentionally for her amusement. And maybe to get that blush from her every now and again.

...Although, that is only part of the reason.

He actually loves to touch her and let her know how much he loves her, no matter who is around.

He is aware that he has...a past and sometimes, remnants of that pop up to sour her mood and make her insecure and he hates himself for that. So obviously, he is not shy to show her how much she means to him in front of others.

Theo

Theo's brand of PDA is...definitely different.

He wouldn't be hesitant to claim her in public verbally, calling her his hondje.

Make no mistake, he wouldn't be very touchy feely in front of others, but there will be no doubt that she is his.

Which is why his more physically affection is usually triggered by jealousy or protectiveness.

Sometimes, he can't resist wrapping an arm around her when he senses she is in need of comfort of some kind, be it because someone or something is making her uneasy, just to, in his own Theo kind of way, assure her that he is there.

She is safe with him and he will be damned if she felt any differently when she is out and about with him.

Sometimes, however, when nobody else is really looking, his look will soften when he meets her gaze, or puts a subtle hand on the base of her spine, usually brushing it off as 'directing' her.

Really its just an excuse to touch her, but he would have to be cornered to admit it aloud.

Vincent

The sweetheart was a joy to be around, always.

He is perfectly content holding her hand when he walks with her.

He could be a little socially oblivious at times, flustering his love with rather open declarations of love...wearing a perfectly innocent look on his face.

Sometimes he will take both her hands in his and kiss them, or maybe run his fingers through her hair.

He doesn't really have a reason to give if asked, he just feels like it.

His affection is so sweet, so tender, it may usually result in adoring moments between them where the world seems to disappear and they can only stare at each other, most likely with Y/N being completely taken by his gentle charm, sparkles and flowers surrounding them before someone has to remind them that they are not alone, snapping them out of their enamored stupor.

Put that is the effect Vincent tends to have on his lover, whether other people are around or not.

He may or may not kiss her. It depends on how bold he is feeling that day. Not a deep one, just a quick kiss on her lips, short and sweet.

The more intimate stuff is for behind closed doors. He isn't one to be too inappropriate in public.

He does have the capacity to be embarrassed after all. He may be a bit sheepish if he is called out, pink cheeks and all.

He can't help it. He loves her, that's just a fact.

Isaac

He's...hesitant about it. He's not necessarily averse to it, but...

Well he wouldn't see the reason for being so...overt about their relationship.

Handholding? Well alright, if she really wants to, he will hold her hand while they walk.

But beyond that, he would be a bit more resistant.

Kisses, hugs, the more intimate touches, he does not want others to see that.

So much so that he may even dodge any kisses she may try to give him. Y/N shouldn't take it too personally, even if it does seem as though he were rejecting her, he isn't, honest.

He would scramble to explain that he wasn't ashamed of her in anyway, because it would seem that way after a while.

His affection, however, would be more...subconscious actually.

Playing with the ends of her hair or tracing her palms, little things he wouldn't even be aware he was doing unless pointed out to him.

He's more affectionate when they're alone and it comes as more as a surprise to her, as he would be more confident about just kissing her, or taking the initiative in general, much more so when they're out and about.

Jean

Knowing how Jean is, people would assume that he would be completely against public displays of affection.

The honest truth? They would be correct in some aspects, but...

Not as much as they would think.

Its less because of his aversion to it and more because he has very little idea of how to conduct himself in public as a couple.

Being as socially clueless as he can be at times, he isn't entirely sure what is deemed appropriate and what isn't.

Its somewhat endearing to see him startle his lover by holding her hand seemingly out of nowhere.

He would probably admit that he received advice from the other residents that it was common for lovers to hold hands.

Which is the sweetest thing, but it would seem a bit...disingenuous to Y/N, as though he were doing it because he feels obligated.

But with a bit discussion over boundaries and what was deemed appropriate, a comfortable norm would definitely help him be more at ease and natural with his affection.

He would also be a bit more spontaneous, though always asking for her consent whenever he tries something different.

Dazai

Spontaneous.

He moves to the beat of his own drum, so the opinion of others is...so irrelevant to this man.

When in public with his love, he tends to do whatever comes to mind, no matter how random it may be.

Take her hand count her fingers and compliment them? But of course.

Steal a sweet peck from her and tell her how pretty they looked so he just felt like it? Naturally.

At times it may feel odd, but he has his own way of being affectionate and he doesn't have much impulse control to speak of.

Not since he's had her in his life. He may not be the best at expressing himself...at all, but for better or for worse, she will know she is loved.

Even with his oddball methods of showing it.

He particularly enjoys seeing her blush, so he does go out of his way to surprise her, whether it be by staring at her for prolonged eye contact, just to tell her she is beautiful. Unprompted.

The surprise on her pretty face as her cheeks erupt into red roses brings warmth into his chest as he chuckles, unable to stop himself from caressing one of them.

Anyone watching might think he is random...and he is, but he doesn't pay any mind to that.

Comte

His brand of affection is certainly more restrained. He is a gentleman after all.

He doesn't want to do anything inappropriate in front of others, he wouldn't want to embarrass her.

But he most certainly wasn't shy about wrapping a loving arm around her waist, holding her close to him, his comforting presence washing through her.

He is proud of her and is more than happy to show her off, though only as much as she would allow.

Elegant hand kisses, gracious intertwining of fingers, little acts that are not overboard, but leave little to the imagination.

Where he does go a little overboard is when it comes time to spoil her.

She wants for nothing. Comte's cherie wants for absolutely nothing.

He will gently kiss her forehead when she expresses any concerns, because to make her shine the way she deserves makes him happy.

He worries not over what others think too much, but he is respectful and classy when in the public eye.

Emphasis on when they are in the public eye. Its a different story when they are alone.

Sebastian

Subtle, almost imperceptible, one would miss it if they weren't paying attention.

He is a good deal more reserved about being affectionate when in public.

Perhaps he would take to simply being closer to her, proximity wise.

He may occasionally gently place his hand on her back, usually under the guise of directing her one direction or the other.

Truth be told, one would have to have known Sebastian prior to him being in a romantic relationship to see the difference.

Only then would his more almost secretive touches, that could easily be brushed off as platonic or friendly, be seen in slightly different light.

His demeanor generally isn't all that changed, specially not in public. He really isn't overly affectionate in front of others, but those who know him would definitely be aware that he is more...touchy with her.

Again, nothing too incriminating to the untrained eye, but so long as she understands the sentiment, that's all that really matters anyway.

Vlad

The romantic gestures he would gravitate towards would be more...innocent. Sweet, almost a bit childish in an endearing way.

Playing with her fingers, intertwining his between them, tucking her hair away from her lovely face.

His affection, in public, was more reminiscent of an admirer simply in awe of her.

He is devoted to her and her alone, and sometimes he may just act in the moment, bringing their linked fingers to his lips to his and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. And of course, slip a flower or two into her hair.

He especially likes to profess his affection with words as much as actions.

Softly whispered words of adoration will often make their way to her, wrapping her in their warmth, even if he isn't actually touching her.

He isn't entirely conscious of how others perceive this, nor does he care all that much. Sometimes he just wants to bask in his love for her, take a moment to be grateful for her and show her that gratitude in full.

Faust

His brand of public affection often sent the message that Y/N was his very close assistant than his lover.

Its not often that it happens to be honest.

In contrast to his oddball sire Vlad and the overly affectionate Charles, he is much muted and covert about being affectionate.

He is quite blunt about it as well, if he is asked, probably by the children he tends to care for, if Y/N is his girlfriend.

He will just say yes, with a completely straight face and leave it at that.

Though the children themselves will be confused, as their fairly naive ideas of grand displays of love will be very much absent when they observe Faust and Y/N.

He would only indulge them by going to kiss her forehead if they didn't stop pestering him about it.

He just doesn't see the appeal of behaving in public how he behaved in private.

Only she needs to see his more vulnerable, genuine side. She's the only one who deserves to.

Charles

Umm...

If left unchecked, he could and would get carried away.

He would not care who is there, he can't keep his hands to himself.

Normally, he sticks to hand holding and cuddling.

But sometimes he'll sneak his hand on her thigh, maybe starts kissing her with reckless abandon.

He has no qualms about sneaking his hand up her dress while does and if she doesn't stop it, they may just start getting a bit wild.

Clothes might start dropping if Charles is left to do as he pleases. Its not so much out of lack of care of what others think, he isn't even thinking about, its more because he just wants to bury her in his love and drown in hers, no matter where and when.

And the mouth on him sometimes...

He is shameless about flirting with her too, oscillating between sugary heartfelt confessions of adoration and more...daring, lascivious declarations.

None of which are discreet.

In the slightest.

Galileo

He doesn't.

The man doesn't do like that.

Frankly, if someone was told explicitly that Galileo and Y/N were a couple, they wouldn't know it by looking at them.

Maybe the most affection seen from him would be standing close to her. Maybe if his guard is down, his face may soften when looking at her. But that's it. Nobody is seeing more than that.

Many people from the outside would question the perceived coldness of the relationship.

The couple would often seem more like acquaintances than lovers.

She would probably be touching him more than he is touching her to be honest.

But in private...that is not the case.

He prefers to keep his more tender side for her and her alone.

When it's just the two of them, he would indulge her with gentle caresses and tender words.

He is very different with her when it's just them, versus when they are out in public.

Drake

Drake doesn't care a great deal about what others think. He does what he wants when he wants to.

He doesn't behave that differently with her in public than he does in private.

Sure, he wouldn't jump her for risky trysts in the open, not unless she was up for it, but he wouldn't balk over kissing her in front of others. He doesn't do it often but he wouldn't be against it.

His boldness goes as far her timidity allows, really.

He's not so much into hand holding as much as he likes giving her head pats, caressing her face and giving her hugs and forehead kisses.

Especially headpats and forehead kisses.

He wouldn't go overboard but needless to say, he is rather affectionate in public. Unabashedly so.

He also flirts and teases rather openly, if only to see her flustered. Whispering in her ear, cornering her against surfaces, he does not care who sees. If called out, he will simply laugh it off.

He cares more about doting on his fawn than anybody else and their opinions anyway.

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xxsycamore · 7 months ago

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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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