otome-love

[otome-love]

THE UP RATINGS DID WONDERS. THIS IS SO HOT LIKE WTF. MY BRAIN HAS NOT YET RECOVERED AND IT'S BEEN AN HOUR SINCE RELEASE. NDKDIFNDIDJE I want to thank everyone on the team. THANK YOU FOR THESE CARDS

[otome-love]

MLQC CH: 恣色正浓 Karma + PV

ahh (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

i love victor’s red shirt ♡

[otome-love]

To Know Your Love: Part II (Tears of Themis: Artem - NSFW)

To Recap... (read Part I here)

Artem Wing, one of Stellis's top attorneys, is your colleague, your superior...and the man you've inadvertently fallen for.  After he bravely confesses to you what he perceives as a shortcoming - his inexperience when it comes to romance - you extend a bold offer: to teach him the ways of love.  Read on to discover what happens next!

Warnings: Profanity and explicit language, deflowering, oral

Word Count: ~7200 words (36 mins of fluff and smut)

Author’s Notes:

What started out as a simple one-shot turned into the longest fic I’ve ever written in my life lol.  Here it is, Part II of my multi-chapter piece, To Know Your Love.

To the awesome patron who requested this, please know that I managed to fit office sex into the unlikeliest scenario that ever existed 🤣.  Hope y’all enjoy the read! 💕

(Originally posted on Pa*treon on July 2021)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Artem stands the moment he sees you approaching his table, pulling out your chair in one smooth, chivalrous motion.  The city’s top attorney looks different today, no longer decked in an impeccable suit and polished oxfords but considerably more relaxed in jeans and a black button up shirt, the face of his leather wristwatch catching the light of the sun that Saturday afternoon.

“I hope this isn’t too awkward for you,” he says after pleasantries had been exchanged, one hand running through his hair as the other clenched and unclenched upon the tabletop in the café where you had agreed to meet him for your first date.  It was clear that he was nervous - having familiarized yourself with most of Artem's mannerisms by now.  Fidgeting was just something he didn't do.  At work, at least.

“I don't find it awkward at all.  I mean, it can’t be any more awkward than the way in which I propositioned you.  Well, not ‘proposition’ in that specific manner; that’s a very poor choice of words on my part, I’m sorry—"

“Good afternoon, may I please take your order?”

It was a good thing the waitress arrived when she did to prevent you from sticking your foot any further into your mouth.  When it came to work, you had no problems being confident and articulate in front of Artem.  Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to channel more of that professionalism in what was a very unprofessional setting.

Because the truth of the matter was that you really weren’t thinking when you offered to help Artem “learn” the ways of love.  How could you, when you, yourself, was hardly considered experienced with your mere two previous love interests  — one of whom you barely dated for a month during freshman year at university, and the second of which had called it quits after you stopped him from getting frisky on the third date.

In fact, you had barely even made it in time to meet Artem in the café that sat in the heart of the city's French quarter, having burned the midnight oil frantically scouring the internet for articles on love and dating — things that you only marginally one-upped Artem on, at most.

“Still, I appreciate that you’re spending your precious downtime trying to enlighten me in such matters.  Textbooks can be informative, but they’re no substitute for an actual teacher,” he tells you, leaning in close after passing his menu to the waitress.

You look into eyes the colour of the ocean, their corners faintly crinkling with a smile that draws Artem's lips into handsome curves. In that patio, he looked so radiant under bright sunlight that you were glad to have been seated with the way your knees went weak, heart stirring like the black coffee in the cup the pretty waitress set down before him, her eyes lingering on the profile of his face far too long for it to be purely coincidental.

In fact, most of the women there and even some of them men kept stealing glances in the direction of your table, ladies huddling their heads together to speak in hushed tones before looking Artem’s way again, practically biting the gloss off their lips as they readjusted designer sunglasses.

Artem Wing could, very literally, have anyone he wanted.

But it was as if he had blinders on, that sky blue gaze fixed on nobody else but you the entire time.  And if you were to be completely honest, the fact that he couldn’t see how incredibly attractive he was made him even more so.

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a ‘teacher’ by any means of the word.  I’m actually still a novice when it comes to these things, so if you would prefer to have someone more experienced—"

“No!” Artem exclaims before tempering the volume of his voice with a softer "No, please.  I would be honoured if you would be the one to teach me about...what lovers do."

That last statement is whispered like a secret shared between the two of you, something taboo.  It sends a shiver down your spine and beneath the table, your thighs press together.

“Plenty of people have experience,” he goes on, “but not everyone possesses the ability to reflect on and understand them, to distill the important lessons.  In this respect, I have the utmost confidence in you as the perfect candidate.  That is, if you’re still comfortable and willing to go through with this project.”

It was just like Artem to refer to himself as a project, always seeking improvement though no other man came so close to perfection.  And yet, you couldn't help but feel a pang in your chest.  The very term hinted at something impersonal, as if there were nothing else to tie you to him aside from what you had to teach, nothing that spoke to the way the two of you felt about each other.  You knew you were crazy for the man; why else would you have put yourself in this scenario?  But what about Artem?  Aside from his evaluation of your ‘skills,’ could anyone else have done just as well?

“Of course, it would be my pleasure.  Maybe we could even learn together,” you say, brushing aside your concerns with a smile.  “Should we start now?”

Sitting up straighter in his seat, Artem nods with a solemnity that almost makes you laugh.  So, with your heart in your throat, you slowly extend your leg beneath the table, gently nudging the side of his shoe with the tip of your stiletto.

It was beyond endearing — cute, even — how predictable Artem was, whatever poker face he might’ve perfected professionally falling to the wayside as the tips of his ears burned red at the touch.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop and I will.”

“No.  Don’t stop.  Please, I want you to continue.”  He shakes his head just a bit too vehemently.

And so you do, foot lifting to slide up and down the length of his leg, feeling barely any give in the well developed muscles of his calf.

Meanwhile, above the table, you are the picture of innocence: sipping on cappuccino and biting into your chocolate almond biscotti before offering Artem a taste by hand.  You had never expected to enjoy the unevenness of his breath this much, or the obedience with which he ate as you continued your covert seduction.  A smile teases the corners of his lips when you tease him further, pulling back that tasty morsel every time he came close to a bite until you finally relent, enjoying the sight of his perfect teeth sinking into the biscuit.

And you can see it in Artem’s eyes that he is surprised by your playfulness, by the sudden coquettish display you called upon like charm on demand.  It is clear that he enjoys it; taking pleasure in the type of intimacy that is reserved exclusively for couples.  Because gradually, relaxation perfuses his limbs like tides softening the shore, and with a gentle "May I?" his large hand moves to cover yours on that tabletop, warmth emanating from his palm when he gently squeezes yours to make you scream internally.

Artem Wing may not be so bad at this thing called ‘love’ after all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The flowers Artem surprised you with on your first date hadn’t yet begun to wither by the time the second arrived.  And then the third, and fourth, and so on — all of them exquisite, all your favourite blooms.

All of them delivered to your office beautifully arranged so that your coworkers couldn’t contain their curiosity — Celestine and Kiki in particular barraging you with questions as to the identity of your mystery suitor, someone they deemed not only romantic but also incredibly generous, judging by the size of the bouquets and the frequency with which they arrived.

Little did they know that the man who fit their description sat right in that corner office — the one people had written off as a robot, incapable of thinking of anything else but work.

It was almost comical, keeping up this charade before your colleagues.  But you didn’t dare tell them that the flowers were just one facet of the private love lessons you were giving Artem Wing.  In truth, you were the one who insisted on keeping this matter under wraps, thinking it would help Artem save face on the one hand while preventing gossip from arising at work on the other.  Surprisingly, Artem hadn’t seemed to mind either way, being only too happy to go along with whatever made you feel most comfortable.

As such, the cards accompanying the flowers never did contain any clues as to the identity of the sender.  What they did contain, however, were love poems by writers you mentioned you admired to Artem previously only in passing.  Other times, they contained little more than a sentence or two,

“Hope you have a wonderful day.  PS. For the first time in my life, I find myself looking forward to the weekend.”

…so sincere and sweet in its simplicity that you had to remind yourself to breathe when you inevitably stopped.

Much like that Friday evening, when you had, once again, accidentally stumbled upon that psychology textbook in Artem’s office.  Ashamed by what you were about to do but also unable to desist, you snuck another peek at the book — only to find that the yellow Post-It on the margin had been filled in with the names of your favourite flowers, undoubtedly collated from snippets of conversations shared between the two of you.

“Oh, Artem.”

The sigh that leaves your lips is so tender that even to an outsider, it would’ve been obvious how far gone you were for this man.

Because you knew now that Artem Wing was just as conscientious in love as he was when it came to work; meticulous in seeking to learn as much about you as possible as he was to please.  And as for yourself…

…you had fallen so far down that rabbit hole there was no plausible hope of escape — caught between the reality of having to wake from this dream of Wonderland but wishing to have it last forever all the same.

How would it feel like if Artem was actually your boyfriend?

"This is just pretend, not real life!" you’d remind your reflection in the bathroom mirror every time you caught yourself daydreaming, slapping toner onto your face with more force than necessary.  And yet, your giddy smile would continue to grow when that text from Artem would inevitably arrive to brighten your phone at 11:30 pm, wishing you goodnight before he went to bed.

“It’s nice to know that your lover is thinking of you throughout the day,” you had informed him over dinner on your second date, “that no matter how busy or tired they are, you’re still never far from their mind.”

And since then, Artem had taken that lesson to heart, sending texts here and there that made it feel as if he were right beside you, sharing in the minutiae of your daily life.

“Are you sure you’re okay with having just delivery for dinner?”

Artem’s voice brings you back to yourself, quickly replacing the case files that had covered the textbook on his desk right before the door swings open to reveal the handsome attorney, carrying a box of pizza in one arm.  After spending another long session poring over the details of a particularly trying case, you and Artem had once again found yourselves the only ones left in the office on a Friday night.

“I’d be more than happy to cook something for you, either at my place…or yours.”  The tips of his ears growing pink again, Artem quickly adds: “If you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

Your chest surges with a warmth that fills you to the very core, remembering how dashing Artem had looked commanding the grill during the camping trip.  Placing a slice of Margherita pizza onto a paper plate, Artem passes it to you, the sleeves of his dress shirt neatly folded up to the elbows, exposing the beautifully-defined muscles of his forearms.

You swallow hard.

“Absolutely!  I know it’s a bit of a heavy meal to be eating so late at night, but pizza’s one of my favourite foods and I’ve been craving it lately, so thank you for indulging me.  Although I might take you up on that home-cooked meal on a later date.  Perhaps you could teach me how to whip up a few dishes in return for these dating lessons?”

Feigning cheekiness to hide your nerves, you reassure Artem as best as possible — biting into your slice and trying hard not to let your eyes roll back in bliss from the heavenly taste of fresh basil mixing with creamy mozzarella on your tongue.

Artem smiles, kind blue eyes growing sapphire in intensity as he leans in closer and closer.  Downing your bite with an almost audible gulp, you stop breathing completely to see him reach out a hand…

…and gently wipe an errant spot of tomato sauce from the corner of your lips.  Bringing his finger up to his mouth, Artem cleans it off with a lick of his tongue as if it were the most natural thing to do.

It takes you a good ten seconds to respond.

“That, um, that was really good.  Very smooth.  Did you, uh, pick it up from one of the K-dramas I told you to watch?  You know, the scenes where the guy wipes away the whipped cream from the tip of the girl’s nose when she's drinking hot chocolate?”

Azure eyes widen as if Artem had only now realized when he had just done.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!  I just did that on reflex.  I apologize, I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries.  Here, let me get you a napkin instead—”

Artem’s skin was hot to the touch when your hand shot out to stop his; his pulse palpable beneath the grip of your thumb.  And suddenly, you became hyperaware of just how much larger his hands were compared to yours, heat rushing to your face to think of how they would feel wandering the secret crevices of your body.

“You didn’t overstep your boundaries by any means, Artem.  I’m here to help you learn about love, remember?  And you…you did very well, just now.  To be honest, you’ve been doing exceedingly well.  You’re considerate, you’re attentive to others’ needs, you pay attention to all the things I say, whether they’re important or not, you’re just…perfect.  And you’re going to make someone very happy one day.”

Someone.

After all, there was never any guarantee that it would be you.

Faking a smile you couldn’t quite feel, you loosen your grip on Artem’s hand, reaching for a napkin to lightly pat your lips.  In the meantime, he has fallen silent, setting his plate down onto the desk as if he had traded in his appetite for a sea of thoughts.

The past few months had been a whirlwind, pretending to be Artem’s significant other.  You couldn’t remember ever being wooed with the same intensity or sincerity as he had shown you.  But throughout it all, there was always an implicit understanding that everything — the weekend strolls through quiet parks, intimate meals in restaurants tucked in hidden corners of the city, the countryside drives to admire fall leaves sparkling like jewels on embellished trees — all of this would eventually come to an end.

Make-believe was still just make-believe, no matter how real the emotions had felt…no matter how much you had grown to care for Artem Wing — not as Stellis's top attorney but as a man, plain and simple.

And if heartbreak was all you were left with in the end, you’d have no one to blame but yourself — having singlehandedly volunteered to teach Artem something it turned out you knew so little about.

For if you had known love, really understood the nature of it, you would’ve stopped before you even began, been smart enough about your own self-preservation to nip the crush you had on your superior in the bud instead of letting it grow into something that would leave you broken the moment Artem began dating others in earnest.

And yet, even then…it would’ve been worth it.

To have seen his smile, unfettered and bright as he sought a copy of his favourite childhood novel in the aisles of a bookstore; the way it grew even wider when he surprised you with the gift-wrapped package when he bid you goodnight at the door.

To have heard his laughter — masculine and innocent at the same time — when you shared an inside joke while shopping at the farmer’s market.

To have found comfort in the fingers that interlaced with yours, Artem reaching for your hand whenever you had a moment alone together — the gesture as natural as breathing.

Yes, it would’ve been worth it.  Because Artem was worth it.

Shaking off dreary thoughts, you force yourself to refocus on the here and now, telling yourself to be happy with what remaining time you did have with Artem, who seems to have frozen completely in his contemplative silence.

“Artem, are you okay—"

“What if I told you that I never want these lessons to end?”

Your paper plate falls to the floor, the slice of Margherita pizza splattering face down onto Artem’s carpet but even then, you were only vaguely aware of the mess you had made.

Because you felt like you were ascending, floating through air and fearful that cruel reality would come creeping in at any moment to burst that beautiful bubble that had presented itself like a gift before you.

Did Artem Wing just…?

“Of course, I understand if you don’t feel the same way I do.  You were just doing this as a favour for me out of the kindness of your own heart because that’s the type of person you are: always so considerate of those around you, intuitive.  Not to mention highly intelligent, extremely capable, incredibly funny and…very beautiful…inside and out.”

Is he saying…?

“To tell you the truth, I owe you an apology,” Artem continues before your sluggish brain can even process the meaning of his words.  “I’m afraid I’ve been less than forthright with you.  I know you agreed to tutor me on matters concerning love and dating but you see, from the very start, I never would’ve been able to go through with any of this had it been with anyone else but you.  I suppose what I’m trying to say is that…I’m in love with you.  I have been for a long time now.”

This must be a dream.

All of it.

From the moment you first found that psychology textbook stuck in the drawer of Artem’s desk to now, when the man of your dreams was telling you that he was in love with you over a slice of delivery pizza.

That while you were labouring under the apprehension that Artem was shaping up to be the world’s finest lover for the luckiest person alive, that person turned out to be you.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.  Please don’t feel like you have to respond—“

“Me too, Artem.  I’m in love with you, too.  Also…for a long time now.”

You blurt out your confession with all the sophistication of a nine year old, but Artem didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, it seemed like he was also struggling to process it all, if the turbulent sea of emotions reflected in his eyes were any indication.  And yet, you were the one who started to cry, unable to check the tears that began flowing of their own accord from some chaotic mixture of love, relief and elation — the intensity of your feelings so immense that it almost frightens you.  And when you finally smile in response to the one that spreads wide over Artem’s lips, the two of you can’t help but fall into a fit of laughter over your inability to decide on whether to laugh or cry.

“I’m sorry, but—I just never expected that you would look even more radiant when you’re crying.  Would it be all right if…I kissed you?”

For a relationship that had begun on such contrived terms, nothing felt more natural than Artem’s lips on your own — so much softer and supple than it had ever felt in the realm of your overactive imagination.

He kisses you once, twice…the heat of his breath dancing across your lips, mouth tenderly exerting pressure in a quest to learn the language of your every response.  Artem's tongue emerges from his mouth, smoothing along the seam of your lips until they fall open in a sigh, extending an invitation for more.

Because you needed more, much more of Artem Wing than could be satisfied with a kiss alone.

And if you hadn’t been so intimately acquainted with his dating history, you would’ve labeled Artem a liar.  Because it was near impossible to believe that someone with no past experience could kiss the way he did — lips and tongue moving in beautiful concert to draw out your very soul and leave you boneless in the circle of his arms.

Those arms.

Surprisingly muscular beneath the tailored fit of his dress shirt, how many nights had you dreamt of being wrapped up in them, body and limbs entangled to leave you inseparable for the rest of your lives?

Embraces were nothing new.  The two of you had often hugged one another: while saying goodnight before parting ways for the evening, or the way Artem would wrap a protective arm about your shoulder as you wound yours around his waist when walking together.

But in terms of physical intimacy, that was the furthest it ever went.

And you can see now that a sense of gentlemanly propriety had seemed to always hold him back, as if Artem had wanted to ensure you were completely clear about his true feelings before things progressed any further, unwilling to risk taking even the slightest advantage of you.

But now…now, there is no holding back, no trace of hesitation to be found in the hands that trace lightly down the lines of your shoulder blades, anchoring upon the curves of your hips to pull you closer and closer.  Now, his movements are almost willful, as if Artem had finally had his first real taste of you and was certain to never let go again.

The thought was intoxicating.

And when his fingers weave through your hair to elicit an inadvertent moan, the one he responds with — deep, urgent and surprisingly erotic — draws your nipples into hardened peaks.  Chest heaving, your breasts begin to ache with the desire to have Artem lavish them with the same amount of attention he had shown your lips.

“Is this okay?…Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong…if there’s anything you don’t like…”

Artem’s voice is muffled in between kisses laid on your cheeks, chin, and the pulse at the sensitive underside of your jaw.  That he can even harness the composure to speak at a time like this is a clear testament to the man’s strength of discipline, especially when the embers smouldering in the depths of his eyes hint at the presence of a beast, barely contained.

Let it out, something within you teases, dark desire rearing its head to seek pleasure at any cost.  Yes, Artem’s leather couch was buttery soft, but you were still in his office.  Furthermore, the fact that he was not just your colleague but also your superior might prove to be problematic in the future; workplace romances were, after all, notoriously tricky to navigate.  But all those nights you had spent lying awake fantasizing about Artem hovering over you in bed were now coalescing into a voice so loud and clear it was impossible to ignore:

Unlock the cage and see how far he will go.

“You’re doing so well, Artem.  Everything is perfect…you’re perfect.  Please, don’t stop.  I…I want you — want us — to go even further,” you hear yourself say, tone practically pleading now that you were through with hiding — from Artem, from yourself.  Now that all pretences had been dropped, it was time to be honest.

Honest, like the storm that rages in ocean eyes when Artem pulls back to study your face — carefully weighing the gravity of your words, considering the threshold you had unveiled before him, beyond which there was no return to the status quo. And you can sense it; the scale shifting between cool rationality and incandescent desire as Artem sought to wrap his logical mind around something that defied logic in the first place.

So you straddle his lap…and tip the balance over completely in favour of blind passion.

Firm thighs contract beneath you, Artem’s lean muscles hard where elsewhere softness had gathered in the gaze that held yours steady until he cannot help but yield to sensation, head dropping back in ecstasy to feel the weight of your body on his.

The sight is mesmerizing; Artem’s neck extending back to accentuate the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing slowly along its length with each heavy swallow.  It sparks a need from deep within you, a desire to taste from the notch between his collarbones all the way to the sharp angles of chin and jaw.

So taking courage in your hands, you begin to loosen Artem’s tie from his collar, unbuttoning his dress shirt just far enough to expose that patch of skin.  And bending low, you run your tongue along the desired path — the faint stubble of an emerging five o’clock shadow adding another dimension of sensuality to the sweet salinity of his skin.

“Ahh…”

The deep register of Artem’s sigh combines with the scent of his cologne to transport you back to that night of whispering pines and cedars and the tale of Perseus and Andromeda — told so softly in your ear that you had felt like the princess herself in the arms of her hero; that night when Artem had come so close to admitting that he had never had a lover of his own before.  Which meant that tonight…

…tonight, you would be his first.

Just as he would be yours.

Artem had never asked and it never occurred to you to bring up the fact that you were also a virgin, having been under the impression that this charade wouldn’t go beyond, at most, embraces that lasted for just a bit too long.  You were of the opinion that kisses, let alone sex, should be reserved for a significant other - someone special who actually meant something to Artem.

That Artem meant something to you had long ago established itself as fact within your heart — the very same he now held within the cradle of careful hands.  Being with Artem made you feel safe, and perhaps that was why you felt surprisingly calm though your body thrilled at the prospect of being joined to his.  So you say,

“Artem, I’ve never slept with anyone before.  This is — would be...my first time.”

Head snapping up to hear your confession, his wide eyes focus on you, the large pad of his thumb caressing the line of your knuckles when Artem takes your hand in his.

“I had no idea.”

He takes a look around: at his suit jacket lying crumpled at one end of the couch, at the specks of tomato sauce that had splattered onto the carpet...at the clock on the wall that read 10:16 pm on a Friday night of a particularly gruelling work week.  Finally, Artem shakes his head, running a hand over his face from forehead to chin.

“I’m so sorry.  You deserve better than this.  Much better.  This is no place for something as special as this to happen.  If you truly feel for me like I do for you…and you’re ready and willing to be with me — for real, this time — I want to do this right.”

Right.

And Artem was right, of course.  Your rational brain, or whatever was left of it, knew this to be true.  And yet, that didn’t stop your body, your very soul from screaming out in desperation that Artem Wing should just tell prim and her friend proper to fuck off so that the two of you could indulge in animalistic sex on that leather couch.

And with every frustrating second of Artem’s hands running through his hair instead of along the curves of your body, you sensed the sands of golden opportunity slipping through your fingers.

You had to act.  And fast.

“Artem, if you would prefer to make love for the first time under more…comfortable circumstances, I definitely understand and will respect your wishes.  But please believe me when I say that, to me, where we are doesn’t matter so much as who I’m with.  And I’m with you — the man I love, who has already made me happy beyond belief by loving me in return.  I am more than ready to be with you to say nothing of my willingness.  And if it’s all right with you, I want to show you just how ready and willing I am…”

Hands lifting to your blouse, your words trail off as your fingertips linger at the button on the collar, awaiting his response.

That sapphire gaze glides from your eyes to your lips until finally coming to rest on your fingers, dark blue irises contrasting with the pink that rises high on the cheekbones of that chiseled face.  A moment more, then suddenly, there is a change in the man before you.  Taking a deep breath, Artem nods his assent, seeming to be once again in clear control of the reins of his own composure.

“I want you to tell me everything as we’re doing it.  I want to know what you’re thinking, how you feel…even as I’m feeling you from the inside and out.  Whatever it is, as long as it has to do with you, I want to learn about it.”

The voice that seems to have dropped an octave tugs at something primal deep within, the authoritative switch in his tone subtle yet so unexpected that you can’t help but grind against the seat of Artem’s thighs.  It excites, much like the way it would arouse you to watch the senior attorney in action, Artem’s quiet confidence and brilliant mastery of his craft more potent than any aphrodisiac.

So you comply.

There is no fumbling, no nerves — just the smooth motion of your hands moving down your top, fingers loosening one tiny button after another, your eyes never leaving Artem’s even when the silken panels of your blouse fall aside to reveal the delicate lace of your bra.

“I…want to know how it feels like...to have you in me; to have your body, Artem, moving inside mine.”  Taking his hand, you place it on your chest — the heat of his touch sinking into your skin like water penetrating parched earth.  “Take it off and touch me.”

You had fantasized about this moment before, fingers moving between your legs as the stresses of the day melted away with every convulsion of pleasure rolling through your body.  And though losing your virginity on a leather couch in Artem’s office hadn’t quite featured among those romantic scenarios, the feelings were very much the same:

Being so in tune and comfortable with your partner that you could be unabashedly yourself, saying and doing as you pleased without the slightest hint of stigma or embarrassment.

So you watch as those large hands start to move: fingers and palms conforming to the curves of your breasts and gently squeezing over thin lace, your lover’s eyes softening in a look of simultaneous wonder and appreciation.

And when those fingers move to trace along the midline of your back, you gasp to feel his touch — the motion barely there like a dragonfly skimming the surface of a placid pond, yet setting off ripples of sensation that spread to the farthest reaches of your body, drawing forth moisture to dampen swollen folds as dew hangs heavy on velvet petals.

“My back is very sensitive.  I like it when you touch me there.”

Your voice is imbued with an eroticism that sounds almost foreign.  And in the flash that brightens those blue eyes, you know that Artem is filing away that piece of information into his internal lexicon of you, the notion even more impressive when you realize that he has done it while unhooking your bra, the smooth motion performed so quickly you don’t even realize it until your cups loosen and fall.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, pulling the bra from your body so slowly it accentuates the touch of lace travelling soft across your skin.  Mouth hovering close to your nipples, he looks up at you and asks for permission.

You melt under the wet heat of lips and tongue, Artem’s movements unhurried and almost exploratory in the way he makes a careful study of your body, cataloguing your every move as you fall apart under his watchful gaze.  The tip of his tongue draws to a point, tracing slow circles about the circumference of your nipples before flattening to lave over your breasts, careful to pay meticulous attention to both.

“Do you like this?”

Artem’s breath grows more uneven as he continues to consume you with increasing fervour, the muscles in those strong arms flexed to bring your writhing body even closer.

Deciding to show instead of tell, you unwind your fingers from where they had been anchored in the strands of his hair.  Pulling onto his wrist, you guide Artem’s hand beneath the skirt that had, by now, bunched up around your waist.

The feeling is incredible — hearing the catch in Artem’s breath when his fingers first touch black satin, their tips dragging slow across the patches soaked from the wetness that dripped steadily from the most intimate part of your body.

“Can you feel how much I like it?  How much I love having you touch me like this?”

His head snaps up at that word, love, and all of a sudden, he is kissing you again — already breathless when his tongue sweeps past your lips to engage yours in a caress that borders on wild…

…much like the way he disrobes, yanking off his dress shirt with a ferocity that sends the buttons flying, making tiny clinks as they bounce off the glass coffee table before coming to rest on the carpet.

And still, the kiss doesn’t let up.

Not when your nails sink into his sculpted back and shoulders, not even when he moans into your mouth to feel your hands roaming his bare chest — savouring the hard planes of muscle that extend all the way down his torso and beyond the tapered waist of his dress pants, Artem’s nipples pulling tight beneath the playful brush of your fingertips.

Slowly…slowly…the two of you feel your way over each other’s bodies, allowing intuition to be your guide where experience fell short.

He slides your panties down your legs, carefully extricating them from around your ankles.  You try to control the tremble in your hands as you unbuckle his belt.  His arousal is obvious, long and hard and outlined in the barely contained stretch of his boxer briefs.  You swallow hard to think of how something so big can fit into a place so small.

His head lowers, every kiss he lays on the insides of your thighs making them spread wider still on the edge of the leather couch where you found yourself on display.  You like the way Artem looks at you, the longing in his gaze almost palpable to see your cheeks grow pink and pussy wet.

“I want to kiss you here, too,” he says, and with a nod of your head, the world dissolves.

You had known release before, having brought yourself to orgasm countless times — fingers stroking the velvet folds of your pussy, dipping into the heat of your own body to draw wet lines around the throbbing clit until contractions arrived to leave you blissfully sedated.

But Artem’s mouth between your legs was an entirely different beast, and suddenly, you found pleasure in submitting to the whims of another who wished to pleasure you.

"Just like that, keep going," you’d say to your eager pupil, who never once tore his eyes away, half-lidded though they became with lust; "you’re delicious" seeping from his mouth when your juices weren’t.

But perhaps more than the lips that gently suckled your clit, more than the tongue running along the thin rim of flesh, more than the spit that mixed with your arousal to run slick all the way down to the tight opening of your ass…you liked seeing Artem on his knees, enjoyed the authenticity of the ecstasy he derived from eating your cunt with gusto.

You beg for his fingers, one or two to start, crying out when they slide in to feel how swollen and sensitive you already were from foreplay.  He moves carefully, awe in those azure eyes to see the way your body responds when you tell him to curl and press, just the way you like it.

Then, it is your turn: seeking permission to touch, to hold; admiring his cock, hard and hot and intimidating in your hands.  You trace its shape, sense the heft.  He tells you he feels like he’s going crazy when you look up at him with wide eyes and ask if you can put it in your mouth.

You love his taste.  Love the way the way it feels to pull your lips over teeth and flatten your tongue about the underside of him, the way the corners of your lips strain to accommodate more of his flesh.  Love the way he grows harder and longer still, the pulse in the vein that runs along his length throbbing between your lips as you make a wet mess of your chin and his thighs.

“That feels so good.”

Artem’s words are barely a whisper yet encouragement enough for you to redouble your efforts until his fingers catch your chin, pulling you up and away for a kiss, saying “If we go any further, I’m afraid I’ll…” in a rather sheepish tone to remind you that there were further pleasures to be had.

“We can stop anytime, just say the word,” he says, but that is the last thing on your mind when you lie back onto that leather couch, admiring the way his fists clench at the sight, cock already twitching in arousal.

Blue eyes draw near, hovering closer and closer until they hold yours from above, Artem softly kissing each of your knees before he parted them to position himself in between.

“This is like a dream come true,” he whispers in your ear, the strands of his hair tickling your forehead when you loop your arms around his neck to pull him close.  And in the chest that presses against you, you can feel his heart — pounding hard in time with yours when he begins to push.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he says, teeth grit with the strain of holding back though every part of his body begged to fuck you with abandon.  Because the tight, wet heat of your pussy was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and now he understood why love drove people crazy, the very sight of you — writhing in pleasure and anticipation beneath him — bringing Artem to the brink of madness.

And he wasn’t alone.

Your mind was already half gone from the moment you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance.  And when steady pressure gave way to the smooth slide of his body into yours, all you could focus on was the velvet heat of his skin and how incredibly filled you felt from the inside out.

Artem stills, forearms flexed on either side of your head as he waits for your body to acclimatize to this new sensation; pink tongue sweeping out every so often to lick his lips as he fought to keep his hips from rocking.

It isn’t until yours do that he moves in turn, gingerly pulling out and pushing in until you assure him that you were in no discomfort, a whisper of "you feel so good in me," drawing his lips to your mouth once again as he began thrusting in earnest.

“Ahh, Artem!”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you meet each swing of his hips with equal enthusiasm, feeling the breath leave your lungs each time his body impacted yours, driving his cock farther up into your depths until there was nowhere else to go.  And yet, the two of you craved more and more.

It was like being let in on a secret, to see Artem — always so calm and collected — behave with such unhinged passion.  And the ease with which he revealed his hidden side made it easy for you to behave accordance with your own desire, all inhibitions lost as you moaned in pleasure and told Artem, in explicit detail, just how he made your body feel.

And perhaps it was this more than anything else that brought about his eventual release, whispered I love you’s laid at the lobe of his ear as your arms wrapped tighter around his back.  Because when he pulls out, apologetic for having accidentally come on your thighs without asking first, you really do love him:

Not just as Artem Wing, Stellis’s top attorney.

Nor Artem Wing, the scholastic, legal wunderkind.

But as Artem Wing, the man himself: brilliant, kind…

…and so wonderfully new at love.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all enjoyed the fic! 🤩💕

Check out my Masterpost here! 📚You can find my latest work and 🔥exclusive pieces 🔥on my Pa*treon page - please see link in my Pinned Post 😊

"To Know Your Love" is copyright 2021 Otonymous, all rights reserved.

[otome-love]

Flight

Fandom: Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY Rated: NSFW/18+ Pairing: Sanada Nobuyuki/MC

Tags: jealousy, dark (manipulative) thoughts, thoughts of a yandere, unrequited (?) feelings, oral and vaginal sex

Words: 5039

A/N: Re-posting one of my earliest works from Ao3 since Voltage deemed us worthy and finally blessed us with some new Nobuyuki content. I am thirsty for the man and it shows.

Summary:  It has been a few months since Nobuyuki took (coaxed) you to wife. He knows that you have harbored a small crush on Yukimura ever since the very beginning but he doesn’t particularly care about that tiny little detail. Until he starts witnessing it for himself. And now he might be… ‘concerned’.

What cure does the elder yandere Sanada have for your Yukimura pining?

Nobuyuki adores his little brother. Ever since Yukimura was a little tyke, he has loved him the most out of all their family. He is the very epitome of innocence, a bright and refreshing light in his darkly stained universe. For years and years perhaps, he has only ever really cherished Yukimura, as much as it is humanely possible for one human to cherish another - no even more than that - protected and loved him with all that his existence is, for all that his little brother stands for; for Yukimura is his heart after all. Or he was.

Until a couple of months back. He hasn’t stopped loving him. That could never happen. No man or woman could mean to him as much as Yukimura does. However, he now doesn’t stand as the sole owner of Nobuyuki’s heart. He shares it with the only other person he will ever love with such familiar ferocity and yet in a completely different way from how he loves Yukimura.

Keep reading

[otome-love]

Flight

Fandom: Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY Rated: NSFW/18+ Pairing: Sanada Nobuyuki/MC

Tags: jealousy, dark (manipulative) thoughts, thoughts of a yandere, unrequited (?) feelings, oral and vaginal sex

Words: 5039

A/N: Re-posting one of my earliest works from Ao3 since Voltage deemed us worthy and finally blessed us with some new Nobuyuki content. I am thirsty for the man and it shows.

Summary:  It has been a few months since Nobuyuki took (coaxed) you to wife. He knows that you have harbored a small crush on Yukimura ever since the very beginning but he doesn’t particularly care about that tiny little detail. Until he starts witnessing it for himself. And now he might be… ‘concerned’.

What cure does the elder yandere Sanada have for your Yukimura pining?

Nobuyuki adores his little brother. Ever since Yukimura was a little tyke, he has loved him the most out of all their family. He is the very epitome of innocence, a bright and refreshing light in his darkly stained universe. For years and years perhaps, he has only ever really cherished Yukimura, as much as it is humanely possible for one human to cherish another - no even more than that - protected and loved him with all that his existence is, for all that his little brother stands for; for Yukimura is his heart after all. Or he was.

Until a couple of months back. He hasn’t stopped loving him. That could never happen. No man or woman could mean to him as much as Yukimura does. However, he now doesn’t stand as the sole owner of Nobuyuki’s heart. He shares it with the only other person he will ever love with such familiar ferocity and yet in a completely different way from how he loves Yukimura.

Keep reading

[otome-love]

Masterlist

A full list of MLQC anime clips, anime cards, game karmas and more posts!

MLQC Anime Clips

Anime Opening

Episode 1 - Lucien sees color

Episode 2 - Flying with Gavin/Gavin’s Fight

Episode 3 - Victor’s Bakas

Episode 4 - Key’s Secret

Episode 5 - The Queen’s Awakening

Episode 5 - The Message Board

Episode 5 - Gavin’s Past

Episode 6 - Shaw’s Warning

Episode 10 - Keeping Everyone Safe

Episode 11 - Helios

MLQC Anime Cards

Anime Design Cards (Be Shiny Day)

Episode 1 Cards (Gentlemen & Royals)

Episode 2 Cards (Military Mafia & Baking)

Episode 3 Cards (Flowers & Wizards)

Gavin’s 2020 Anime Birthday Card

Episode 4 Cards (Kiro - Movie & Fireworks)

Episode 5 Cards (Gavin - Guitar & City View)

Episode 6 Cards (Lucien - Rain & Spa Day)

Episode 7 Cards (Victor - Kitty & Champagne)

Episode 8 Cards (Gavin - Earring & Projector)

Episode 9 Cards (Lucien - Medicine & Flower)

MLQC Anime Beach Card

Episode 10 Cards (Kiro - Chips & Fashion)

Episode 11 Cards (Victor - Changing & Gift)

Episode 12 Cards (Suits & Birthday)

Lucien’s 2020 Anime Birthday Card

MLQC Game Karmas

Mid-Summer Karmas 2020 (CN)

Mid-Summer R Karmas 2020 (CN)

Gavin’s Birthday 2020 (CN)

Parallel World ER Karmas (CN)

Double Seventh Karmas (CN)

Double Seventh Posters (CN)

Transparent Mind Gavin SSR Karma (CN)

Warm Afterglow Victor SSR Karma (CN)

Season 2: Chapters 2-5 ER Karmas (CN)

The Dark Jungle ER Karmas (CN)

An Eye Apart Victor ER Karma (CN)

Blue Sky Impression Kiro SSR Karma (CN)

Wonderland After Dark Halloween Posters 20

Wonderland After Dark Halloween Karmas 20

Zoo Animal Themed R Karmas (CN)

Lucien’s Birthday 2020 (CN)

West Moon Pt.2 ER Karmas (CN)

Season 2: Chapters 6-9 SSR Karmas (CN)

[otome-love]

They mentioned that Napoleon’s ‘with this ring’ epilogue is steamier and yep… No regrets（´〃｀＊）

-Admin Dahlia 🌹

[otome-love]

JEALOUS IKEMEN (SENGOKU) BOYS! YEAH JEALOUS BOİS :D Could you write about this topic for headcanon?

yes maam/sir/gender neutral greeting random bois below

Warning: Suggestive content? idk what to tag this

Nobunaga

Doesn’t get jealous easily. He’s confident not because of his station of power, but because he’s sure that your heart belongs to him (the way his belongs to yours), and petty flirtations from other potential suitors aren’t going to sway that kind of commitment.

But even the Devil King isn’t without cracks of weaknesses here and there. For him, it’s when you actually act kind and loving to the other person who’s trying to get your attention. And you often do that, of course, because you’re naturally kind and loving, though it doesn’t help that you’re also sort of dense when someone is trying to flirt with you.

...which means he hates it when Ranmaru clings to you. That boy may seem innocuous enough but Nobunaga can’t help but sense an underlying secret beneath all that ‘little brother’ attitude.

“What did you do today?” It’s something he always asks when the two of you are about to go to bed.

If you tell him you’ve been out with Ranmaru all day, enthusiastically talking about the places you went, the food you tried, he’ll probably hold you closer on your shared futon, the grip on your waist unyielding, and pin your body down underneath his. At this point it’s safe to assume that you’re not going to go to sleep anytime soon.

“All day, you say,” he murmurs, opting to administer teasing kisses on your neck and jaw, doing everything he can to avoid your lips where he knows you want it the most. The man usually takes what he wants, so when he teases, you know it’s going to persist throughout the affair.

His hand wanders to the hem of your robe, slowly slipping inside. 

“Then I suppose it’s only fair that you dedicate yourself to me all night.”

Hideyoshi

As a devout follower of Nobunaga, he likes to think that he also doesn’t get jealous easily, because he’s a full-grown, mature man, right?

Let’s just say that’s not quite it.

There was one time he catches you in a room with the seamstresses, and he sees you blushing. Red from the top of your head to your neck. They are surrounding you, likely showering you with compliments on your design, but he can’t actually hear what they’re saying. All he knows is that you’re sat in the middle of them, face delightfully reddened and a slightly distressed-slash-embarrassed look on your face that reminds him so much of the face you make when you’re in bed with him...

And that’s when the feeling flares up in his gut. He announces his presence and practically ushers you out. Stunned, you follow blindly. He brings you to your shared quarters before deciding to ask what you were doing with the seamstresses exactly.

He doesn’t know if he should be dismayed or delighted at your still-blushing face. Did you get redder? You show him something you’ve been holding in your hand, something he doesn’t notice—

It looks like very skimpy, very accessible undergarments.

You stutter as you explain. “It was a gift.”

His hungry eyes pinned on yours, hands already beginning to undo your obi, he replies in a heartbeat. “Then it’d be rude for us to not use it.”

Shingen

Guy flirts with anything that has two legs and breathes so

It’ll be kind of hypocritical of him if he gets jealous easily, and by nature he’s very chill, so... that should be fine.

Or so he thinks.

It starts with you bantering with Yukimura. The two of you are almost like siblings in Kasugayama, always having something to good-naturedly argue about, so he’s used to the sight. What he’s not used to is Yukimura blushing around you. Maybe the two of you are talking about something embarrassing, but Shingen isn’t used to seeing him like that at all.

With Sasuke, you’re always sharing inside jokes about the future. Even after Shingen’s short visit, he can’t say he understands everything you talk about. Sometimes he’ll catch you snickering with each other (about something called a ‘kombucha girl’? He’s not sure).

Kenshin pours your sake at banquets.

It’ll take awhile for jealousy to blossom, but when it does, it’ll be unexpected and... maybe enjoyable. He’ll whisk you away from the lively party into the quiet of his quarters, lips nibbling on your ear and hands busy undressing you.

“Shingen, what—ah!”

“Everyone’s in love with you, do you know that?” he asks, nimble fingers on your chest. “But only I can have you like this, because you only love me. I want you to say it.”  

Possessive Shingen is a rare occurrence, so you best enjoy it while it lasts. 

[otome-love]

Can I request Mitsuhide and Ieyasu...S and B NSFW??

Yes, you can, sweetie! 💜 I hope you enjoy it! 😊

Fandom: Ikémen Sengoku Featuring: Mitsuhide Akechi & Ieyasu Tokugawa Warnings: Sexual Content | Explicit Content | Read at your own risk

🌸 B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Mitsuhide is proud of his golden eyes and his long, silvery lashes

The reason is that you adore them

You’re always complimenting his gorgeous eyes

He can help but let out a pleasant chuckle whenever you say you’re jealous of his lashes

He loves your thighs and back

He likes resting his head on your thighs and take a short nap there when you ask force him to

He also likes how plump and comfortable they are

Your lap is his safe place

When he’s having a terrible day, you offer him your lap and he is able to relax there under your comforting touch and encouraging words

Also, Mitsuhide likes your back because it feels so nice when he brushes his fingers over your silk-like skin

He rejoices in the way you shudder and moan ever-so-softly whenever he brushes that special spot on your lower back with his deft fingers

🌸 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Mitsuhide can last fairly long especially if he’s the one in charge

Your pleasure is of utmost importance to him

So he focuses on your pleasure, to the point where he, sometimes, neglects his own needs

He just won’t let himself cum before you do

And sometimes he won’t even come!

Although that only happens when he’s worshipping your body and all he wants is to pleasure you till you see stars

So, it’s up to you to take care of his sexual needs when that happens

Now, when he’s the one submitting his power to you he gets too caught up in the moment and he might come before you do

That’s the only time when he lets himself be a tad more selfish

Especially if you’re pampering him

And he does need a lot of tender loving!

However, leaving you unsatisfied is not in his nature, so he will make sure to pay the favour 100x

🌸 B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ieyasu likes his neck

He gets all fuzzy inside when you bury your face in his neck

And boy if you kiss his neck, he becomes a blushy, stuttering mess

Usually, whenever you do that, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him

He finds that really comforting even though he would never admit it

He says it’s annoying when you do that, but he means he thinks it’s cute

Ieyasu’s favourite part of your body are your hands

He loves it when you ran your slender fingers through his blond hair

It soothes his troubled mind and it can quickly lull him into a peaceful sleep

He will hint that he wants you to brush his hair to sleep

But he does it in his own, contrarian way

So you take a while to figure out what he wants

If he gets too frustrated by your “obliviousness” as he calls it, he will purse his lips and grumpily tell you what he’s been trying to tell you for the last 20 minutes

He’s adorable, but do not tell him that!

Or do

He’ll blush and it’ll be his turn to bury his face in your neck

🌸 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Unlike Mitsuhide, he’s not selfless; he’ll definitely come once

But he’s not selfish either; he’ll make you come several times

He lasts long enough to make you come at least once

He really loves it when the two of you reach your climax together

It makes him feel so close and connected to you, so in synchrony

He’s elated every time you two come in unison

Ieyasu finds it really arousing

And if the two of you are in the mood, he can go for another round

In the rare case that he’s too tired to do it again but you’re still carving his touch

He’ll go down on you or use his dexterous fingers to pleasure you

He knows exactly what to do to sate your hunger for him

Requests are CLOSED but asks are open! So feel free to send me an ask any time! 💜

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

(a/n): If you want to get tagged next time I post a fic/hc for this fandom, let me know in the comments!

Feedback is always appreciated!

Buy me a ☕?😘 (check out my Bio for the link to my Ko-Fi cause Tumblr is not external link friendly)

[otome-love]

Time After Time: Victor’s Firsts (MLQC NSFW Headcanon)

Hey everyone!  

Thanks to all who voted in my Twitter poll to see whose NSFW “Firsts” headcanons they wanted to read next. 💕Victor was the undisputed victor (haha!) over Kiro, so I hope you all enjoy my longest headcanons to date…ALL 18 MINUTES OF IT! (these totally got out of hand, for whatever reason LOL) 😵😆

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised.

Naughtiness ensues after the cut!

Keep reading

[otome-love]

The Assassin: Ikemen Vampire

by @ikesensrandomninjagirl (May 2020)

Requested by @niphredil-14

Disclaimer: Characters are the property of Cybird.

Warnings: none, SFW

See my  Masterlists for more fanfiction.

I tried to write a headcannon for Ikemen Vampire where the MC was actually employed as an assassin in the present day. Well, I’m not very good at headcannons and it got away from me. So, I’ve ended up with the following:

Premise: Le Comte has a house meeting

Resolution A: Arthur’s Amour

Resolution B: Napoleon’s Liaison

———————————————————

Premise (SFW)

“Wait, wait, wait! She’s… an assassin?” Isaac stuttered a response to Le Comte’s declaration. Everyone else seemed speechless.

Le Comte nodded, “Yes, and since she has finally felt comfortable enough to share this information with us, I would ask that each of you be more conscientious of respecting her personal space. “

The residents glanced at one another. Theo’s smirk drew a few eyes in Arthur’s direction, but Napoleon rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly seemed suspect as well.

“How exactly has this become a problem?” Mozart asked disdainfully.

Keep reading

[otome-love]

SIN 2020

Hello, lovelies!  Welcome to the first day of Self-Indulgent November or SIN. Basically, I will try to post one reader-insert, smutty drabble every day! You can participate too if you want! I’d love it if some of you did!! To do so, you have to:

Write one smutty drabble or more. It does not have to be explicit, but it has to be suggestive, at least.

Post it with the hashtag “SIN_2020″

Tag me on the post so I can read it

And that’s it! You don’t have to write all 30 drabbles! (Honestly, I don’t even think I’ll be able to). Just write as much as you want!

Remember that this is supposed to be fun and very self-indulgent!

List

Day 1 - Docile (Leone Abbacchio) - JJBA  Day 2 - Make It Better (Victor) - MLQC  Day 3 - Turning Tables (Leonardo) - IkeVamp  Day 4 - That Butler: in Love (Sebastian) - Black Butler  Day 5 - Rise and Shine (Barbatos) - Obey Me!  Day 6 - Feel you (Buccellati x reader) - JJBA  Day 7 - The Beast and the Harlot (Simeon x reader) Obey Me! Day 8 - Spicy Victory - (Nobunaga x reader) - IkeSen  Day 9 - Evening Relaxation (Diavolo x reader) - Obey Me! Day 10 - Squeaking Mouse (Mitsuhide x reader) - IkeSen Day 11 - Hushed Whispers (Satan x reader) - Obey Me!  Day 12 - Home (Motonari x reader) - IkeSen Day 13 - Final Boss (Leviathan x reader) - Obey Me! Day 14 - Moonlight (Kenshin x reader) - IkeSen Day 15 - Big Bad Wolf (Asmodeus x reader) - Obey Me! Day 16 - To Tame a Tiger (Shingen x reader) - IkeSen Day 17 - Crazy for You (Mammon x reader) - Obey Me! Day 18 - Good Hondje (Theodorus van Gogh x reader) - IkeVamp Day 19 - Comfy (Belphegor x reader) - Obey Me! Day 20 - Dark Alleyway (Jonah x reader) - IkeRev Day 21 - A Taste of Honey (Beelzebub x reader) - Obey Me! Day 22 - Tender Loving (Muriel x reader) - The Arcana Day 23 - Undying Thirst (Masamune x reader) - IkeSen Day 24 - Carefree (Vincent x reader) - IkeVamp Day 25 - Concealed Delight (Lucifer x reader) - Obey Me! Day 26 - Adoration (Mitsunari x reader) - IkeSen Day 27 - Giddy (Yukimura x reader) - IkeSen Day 28 - Bite Me (Arthur x reader) - IkeVamp Day 29 - Sinful Indulgence (Seteth x reader) - FE3H Day 30 - Dlectable (Kaeya x reader) - Genshin Impact

Contributors

🌸 Craving You (Shingen x reader) - IkeSen by @teatimemols​ 🌸 Powerful (Swain x reader) - League of Legends by @teatimemols​

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

[otome-love]

hello! I love your blog *so* much, your writing is *chefs kiss*💖 but anyways! could I request a napoleon x reader smut where he gets jealous (for someone flirting or drunk kissing you or whatever you think would get Napoleon v e r y jealous lol) and uh,,,wants to make sure you know you’re his 😈

aww thank you! it means so much to me that you enjoy my blog and writing 🥺🥺 and thank you for requesting something STEAMY for my best boi. i, uh, may have had more fun than i’d like to admit with this ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) so here you go!

(as with the rest of my smut fics, minors please do NOT interact with this, thank you!)

♕ title: king of my heart, body, and soul

♕ prompt: jealous sex

♕ pairing: napoleon x fem!reader

♕ word count: 4.3k 

♕ summary: while napoleon is stuck with bodyguarding duty at a ball, you spend the night dancing with other men, and so he decides you need a reminder as to who your heart, body, and soul belongs with. 

♕ notes: artistic license — fashion was taken. the dress hyperlinked below is probably historically inaccurate but idc it’s not like cybird dresses MC in historically accurate outfits + it’s cute and i want you to be wearing it as napoleon fucks your brains out

♕ tagging: @juminly @kisara-16 @nad-zeta @sweetlittlemouse

♕ AO3 link

———

As kind as le Comte’s invitation was, it’s hard to enjoy a ball when the one you want to be with the most can’t be with you. A beautiful tulle gown of grey-blue blending gorgeously with pink adorns you and spreads around your feet in a small train, earning you the eyes of everyone you’ve swept past. Yet this doesn’t matter to you, as the one you want to see you dressed like this the most can’t keep his eyes on you for more than a passing glance.

“I’m sorry, ma chérie.” Comte’s smooth voice calls you back to reality. He’s holding your hand in one of his larger ones, while the other rests on a respectful spot on your upper back. “I know Napoleon is the one you wish to be with, but—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” you hurry to reassure him, plastering a smile on your face. “I mean, yes, I’d love to be dancing with him right now, but I understand he has a job he needs to do. An important one, too.”

In many ways, being with Napoleon is both a blessing and a curse. His skill with his sword means you never have to fear for your safety when you’re with him. The downside? Most of the time when you two attend balls, you don’t get to spend it together as you’re there for pleasure while he’s there for business. 

No, I can’t let that get me down, you remind yourself. If I get all sad and mopey, he’ll get worried. I don’t want to distract him from his work.

Putting on a brave face, you finish the dance with Comte. No sooner does he release you than is he swept away by a crowd of beautiful, vivacious women. You take that opportunity to slip away to a corner to catch your breath and maybe have a drink while you’re at it. 

From your position against the wall, you have a broad view of the dazzling ballroom. Socialites in all their finery spin around the room, in swathes of colour like petals scattered across a field on a spring afternoon. But your gaze cuts right through them to locate the one who truly matters to you—and the moment you find him, your heart leaps into your throat.

It’s only for a second—maybe two or three at best—but the look in Napoleon’s breathtaking jade eyes makes it clear that he’s seeing you too. Even across this great distance from opposite sides of the ballroom, there is no mistaking the flames of longing and desire in his gaze as his eyes sweeps up and down your figure. The fluttering in your heart shoots down to that telltale spot between your thighs. Blushing, you clamp your legs together in a feeble attempt to stave off the heat gathering there—because right before you two had parted ways at the entrance of the ball, he’d whispered something to you that is still lingering on your mind.

“I’m sorry I can’t spend the ball with you, my pretty nunuche. But I promise I will make it up to you tenfold once the party is over.”

You reckon you still have a couple more hours before you can finally see how exactly he’ll ‘make it up’ to you, so you decide: why not enjoy the party? That’s what you’re here for, and you know he’d hate for you to miss out on the fun because you were too busy worrying about him.

The hours pass in a blur of mingling, dancing, and polite small talk about nothing particularly interesting with the other party-goers. Several of Comte’s socialite friends—all of whom are very handsome, charming, and rich—have taken turns leading you on the dance floor. It’s fun, making new friends and learning more about the people who live in this era that’s so different from the one you’re from. But none of them can really replace the longing in your heart and body for one, and only one, man.

And speaking of that man… 

The back of your neck has been prickling for the past few hours, on and off. It’ll come on, vanish, only to return moments later. You have a good guess as to who it is that’s watching you, so you decide to finally confirm it for yourself. As gracefully as you can, you dodge another man’s advances and find Napoleon at his station. A shiver—not an unpleasant one—runs down your back when you spot the way he looks; his hand gripping his sword tight while the other is clenched by his side, the hard set of his jaw as he struggles to remain professional on the job, the darkness in his eyes as he blatantly burns you with the intensity of his stare. You offer him a quick, reassuring smile before turning around to accept another man’s dance. You are playing with fire here and you’re well aware of that—but maybe sometimes bad girls like getting burned, right?

The party soon comes to a close and the party-goers start trickling out of the ballroom after giving their thanks to the host. After politely turning down Comte’s offer to bring you back home and waving him goodbye goodbye, you hover near the entrance and count down the number of people leaving before the building finally empties out.

Eager, you turn around, but Napoleon has already beaten you to it. Closing the distance between you two with long strides, he pulls you into his arms and lifts you off your feet. No words are needed as he presses his lips to yours in a hurried, hungry kiss. You moan softly when his teeth nip at your lower lip and his tongue plunges into your mouth as it has done countless times before. He barely lets you pull away for air for longer than a split second before bringing you back into yet another punishing kiss, and a third and fourth one after that. You’re glad he’s holding you up in his arms, because your knees would have given out beneath you from the intensity of his kisses.

“You were waiting for me?” he asks, setting you back down on your feet. He’s still holding your waist though; probably figured out your knees are currently not strong enough to hold you up independently.

“Of course,” you reply, out of breath. “I missed you so badly, I couldn’t wait any longer to be with you again. I kept thinking about you all throughout the ball and how much I wanted you.”

His eyes darken as he gazes down at you. They sweep all over you—from your head down to your body to your legs, then back up to your face. “You should be more careful about the kind of things you say to me, nunuche,” he murmurs. His voice is low and sultry, causing damp heat to pool between your legs. “I was originally going to bring you home and make sure you had a nice, warm bath before ravishing you—but just like you, I couldn’t wait to be with you again, so I think I’ll just take you now.”

“What?” Your voice squeaks in surprise. “You—you mean, right here, right now?”

“Right now, yes. But perhaps not in this exact spot, where anyone can see and hear you. Come.”

He seems to know where he’s going, so you follow him as he leads you around to the veranda at the back of the building. The darkness of night covers the whole area like a veil, the only light being the moon and stars above you. Behind the veranda is a stretch of woods. With the rest of the party gone, including the host, no one is around to see what you and Napoleon will get up to.

“Napoleon—mmm!”

His name barely leaves your lips when he roughly pushes you up against the wall. If you thought his kisses before were intense, his kisses now are something else. His teeth and mouth leave your lips swollen by the time he’s through with them, but he doesn’t stop there. His kisses traverse downwards, nipping at your jaw and marking your neck. He has open access to your shoulders thanks to the off-shoulder straps of your dress, which he takes advantage of to leave several bruising kisses on your shoulders and cleavage, while his hand slips down to lift your leg up around his waist so he can press his hips against the space between your spread thighs.

“Oh, god, Napoleon…” you moan helplessly as he rolls his hardening cock against your covered core, his lips continuously marking your skin all the while. You cling to his broad shoulders for even a shred of stability as the pleasure from his ministrations threaten to sweep you away in its cascading waves.

You have a feeling you know what’s gotten into him, and that only heightens your pleasure. While it’s not like he has never been somewhat rough with you before, this is different. Normally he takes his time winding you up and making you feen for him. Now, though, there’s something almost feral about the way he’s touching and marking you.

“Heh.” He pulls himself back up to his full height and grins wolfishly down at you. “Knew I could get you to make those beautiful sounds for me. And only me.”

“Only you?” you echo, arching an eyebrow. “Does that have to do with why you’re acting differently tonight?”

Surprise flickers in the depths of his lust-filled eyes. “Acting differently?” He sighs, though a wry smile plays at his lips. “I suppose I can’t hide anything from you. Fine. I… I didn’t like how those other men were dancing with you earlier.”

You’ve already figured that out, judging from the way he’d kept staring at you all throughout the night. Carefully, you examine the look on his face. Conflict rages across it; a war of jealousy, desire, possessiveness, self-admonishment, and fear. Where you once thought he was stoic and impossible to figure out, is now an open book for you to pick apart at your liking.

“So…” you venture. “You were jealous?”

His frown deepens, but he nods. “Well, yes. I know it’s ridiculous, because you were at a party and so it would be more out of place if you weren’t dancing. And I know I couldn’t be with you because I had a job to do. And above all, I do trust you. But watching the way all those men were chatting you up and dancing with you and touching you—” A darkness you rarely see descends on his handsome face. “—I really, really didn’t like that.”

Heat rushes through your body, along with a thrill of excitement and joy. It’s not often Napoleon gets jealous—or at least, not often that he admits it—so seeing him like this, all vulnerable and possessive, is so endearing you can’t help the smile that overtakes your face.

“Hm? What are you smiling about?” he asks. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I didn’t trust you or that I don’t respect your autonomy—”

“No, it’s not that,” you giggle. He’s so cute, it compels you to rise up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his well-defined jaw. “Maybe it’s strange, but it makes me really happy you feel that way. That you care so much you’d get all jealous and stuff.”

“Nunuche.” He kisses you, gentler this time. “What man wouldn’t get at least slightly jealous when the woman he loves is dancing the night away with another man? Or in your case, a bunch of other men? And since you like it when I’m like this, I don’t think you’d complain if I gave you some… punishment. Am I right?”

Oh, you definitely like the sound of that, and you know he can read it in your expression. The insecurity in his face melts away, replaced with a teasing smirk. He presses you harder against the wall, the hardness in his pants damn near making an indentation between your legs.

“Let me see. They touched you here, didn’t they?” Napoleon’s large hands slip under your skirt to squeeze your waist, prompting a gasp from you. “And here.” He seizes your smaller hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, then to your more sensitive palm. More gasps escape you as his rough kisses line your wrist and palm, followed by whimpers when he takes each of your fingers into his mouth and nips at and sucks on your fingertips. His eyes never leave yours for a moment, making sure you’re seeing everything he’s doing to you.

How? How is it possible that he’s making your panties soaked with just several kisses on your hand? And as if that wasn’t enough, he lets go of your hand, only to get down on his knees before you and lift one of your legs over his shoulder.

“Napoleon…” you whine, realising what he’s planning to do.

“But there’s one place they didn’t touch you. The place only I’m allowed to touch.” His long fingers tug your panties down to your knees before trailing up your thighs to your soaked core. Languidly, he brushes his fingers over it, right at your opening but never fully entering you.

You throw your head back against the wall with another whine. “Napoleon, please!”

“Hm? Please what? What naughty things does my nunuche want me to do to her?” 

You can’t see his face as it’s obscured by your skirt, but you can feel his smirk when he presses his lips against your inner thigh in a too-light kiss. It’s all so much, you’re amazed you can even hold yourself up at this point.

“Please… please touch me,” you beg. Arousal burns hot in you, demanding release one way or another. “I need your fingers inside me. Or any part of you, really. Your cock would be the best, but just touch me, please.”

“Heh.” Another imprint of his smirk against your inner thigh. “It sounds like my nunuche has gotten bold with her words lately. I suppose instead of punishment, you’re due for a reward now, for telling me what you want so candidly.”

With that, he pushes his long fingers deep within you, burying them up to the knuckles. You moan at the intrusion and grasp fruitlessly at the wall behind you for traction. Despite his talk about a reward, the pace he sets with his fingers plunging into you is nothing but punishing, maybe even brutal. Stars burst in your vision every time he pushes against a sensitive spot inside you, and what does he do? Press against them again and again, even curling his fingers to stretch you even more, until you’re outright crying out his name into the night. 

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he teases. “You’re soaking your legs. I can’t let you go home like that. I’ll clean that up for you.” 

His tongue roams up your inner thigh, cleaning up your wetness and leaving trails of his saliva on your skin. Goosebumps chase after his tongue, adding on to the pleasure his dexterous fingers are giving you. His head pushes up higher between your legs, until you can feel his warm breath over your clenching pussy.

“Mmm, you smell absolutely divine,” he groans. “Mind if I get a taste?”

In response, you haphazardly bunch up the front of your skirt around your waist so you can grasp his hair and pull him closer to the wet heat between your legs. Taking that as consent, he pulls his fingers out of your stretched pussy and replaces them with his mouth and tongue. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive clit and plunging his tongue between your folds. No matter what he does, he’s sending you closer and closer to heaven with all the pulsating pleasure washing over your body. Desperate for more, you tug at his hair and moan for him to keep going. His groans vibrate against your core, sending mini shockwaves all through your body.

“Mmm, Napoleon!” you cry out. “I—I’m so—”

Just as you’re about to confess that you’re about to reach your peak, he abruptly pulls his tongue out of you and rises back up to his full height. Your core aches and clenches around nothing. The sudden emptiness hurts so much actual tears fill your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Napoleon murmurs as he kisses your tears away. “I’ll make you feel even better to make up for that. Now turn around and bend over. Hands against the wall. Let me claim your body in all the filthy ways we both want me to.”

With a little whine, you do as you’re told, bending your body over before him in complete submission and bracing your hands against the wall. You hear the rustling sounds of his belt being undone and pants being pushed down, before his hard cock presses right against your entrance. One hand closes around your hips to hold you against him, while the other presses between your shoulder blades to keep you bent over.

“Ready, nunuche?” he growls.

“Yes, please!” you sob. Pleasure sparks in you from just feeling his cock brush against your core, but it’s not nearly enough. “Please, just take me already—nnngh!”

Not waiting for you to finish the rest of your sentence, Napoleon thrusts into you and forces your walls apart around his thick cock with every inch of him that enters you. Sweat coats your palms just from the penetration—how the hell are you supposed to keep this up for the rest of this? The more of him that enters you, the more your hands start to slip against the wall, until you have no choice but to use your forearms in hopes of holding yourself up. When his entire cock is finally sheathed deep inside of you, a soft sob of his name falls from your lips.

“We’ve barely started and you’re already struggling to hold yourself up,” he chuckles. From his position behind you, he can probably see how badly you’re trembling under him, how your arms are quivering against the cold hard wall. His large hands rove over your body, slipping under the low neckline of your dress to squeeze your breasts and tug your nipples, running down your back to squeeze your ass. Not being able to see him and being completely at his mercy heightens your sensitivity. Every touch of his hands makes you shiver and keen his name. 

As if encouraging you, he grinds his hips against yours, quickening the stretch of your pussy around him. Even after spending an entire night watching you with other men and stewing in his jealousy, he still puts your comfort as his highest priority. You really lucked out, having such a sweet man as your lover. With that thought in mind, you brace yourself against the wall and turn your head to meet his eyes.

“Napoleon, please…” you beg. “Please fuck me already.”

His eyebrows raise. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes. Don’t hold back. I want you so badly, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Well, if my nunuche says so.” The composure in his voice slips away as he finally gives in to his raw desires. 

Grasping your hips hard, he withdraws and slams back into you, your entire body jolting forward from the sheer power of that thrust. You claw at the walls, scrambling for balance, as his cock repeatedly leaves and rams back into you, speeding up and increasing in pressure each time. The force of his hips slapping against your behind should hurt, but all that cascades over you is the blinding pleasure of him taking you as he pleases.

Napoleon curses, an extreme rarity for him. “Goddamn, nunuche,” he groans. “Don’t you see? This—haah—is why I get so jealous and possessive. If only you could see how beautiful you look trembling beneath me… How sweet you sound moaning my name like that… How lovely you smell…” His hands grasp your body, pulling you upright and flipping you around so you’re sandwiched between the wall and his muscular body and looking up at his flushed handsome face. “I don’t want any other man seeing and hearing you like this.”

“You—you don’t have to worry about that,” you gasp between his hard thrusts into your bucking body. Even upright and facing him now, it’s not any easier to find stability with your combined passion and pleasure rocking you all over the place. “You’re the only one I want like this, my love. While I danced with those other men, all I could think of was how I wished it was you instead. Don’t you see? You’re all I want. All I’ve ever wanted, and all I will ever want. I love you, Napoleon.”

A beautiful smile lights up his face. “I do see. I see it in the way you’re looking up at me with those bright, dazzling eyes of yours, begging to feel more of me. I see it in the lovely flush in your cheeks—the one I caused. You are perfection in one being, mon amour. Je t’aime.”

His arms wrap around you to hold you tight against him as he slams even harder and quicker into you, making your body bounce up and down atop his powerful hips. You grasp his face and pull him into a deep kiss, which he reciprocates enthusiastically. There’s just so much of him encompassing you—his arms enfolding you, his tongue lapping up your mouth, and his cock continuously sliding in and out of your fluttering core. 

“Oh, yes…” he groans against your lips. “You—you feel so good, nunuche… So warm, so tight…”

His words and sensually low voice fan the flames of arousal burning within you even hotter. There’s a telltale clenching in your core, causing you to cling tighter to him as you gasp out, “Napoleon… ohh, mmm! I’m so—I’m so close.”

“Tell me something first… Who does your heart, body, and soul belong with?”

“What?” Are you hearing this right? “Do you even have to ask?”

“Tell me,” he repeats in a growl. His hips slam up harder into you, making your head knock lightly into the wall and your legs to nearly give out beneath you. “I want to hear you say it.”

“You!” you cry out, holding onto his broad shoulders tighter as his merciless thrusts send you closer and closer to the edge. “You, Napoleon! They belong with you, the king of my heart, body, and soul.”

“King, huh? I like the sound of that.” He smirks down at you, clearly enjoying the sight of you crumbling before him. “Good girls should be rewarded.”

As he works his cock even deeper into you, he leans down to sink his fangs into his favourite spot between your neck and shoulder. The sweet toxins flooding into your body from his bite, alongside the waves of pleasure his relentless pounding into you, wrest any remaining control from you, forcing you right over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut as you cry out his name and clench rapidly around his hard cock, your nails digging into his back for stability.

But he’s not done with you yet. He keeps going, right through your orgasm, prolonging your euphoria. Each time you jolt upwards from his thrust, his strong hands pull you down again to fill you up to the brim with his cock. And with how rapidly you’re clenching around him, his rhythm falls apart in favour of pummeling ruthlessly into your beaten pussy to chase his release.

“Damn…” Napoleon groans against your neck. “Keep squeezing me like that… You feel so good, so tight—my god—”

He manages a few more rough thrusts before pushing all the way inside of you and spilling his heat deep within your clenching pussy. You arch your neck back with a long moan, and he leans down to press loving kisses to your exposed skin as his come spreads through you.

Your knees buckle hard the moment he pulls out of you. Luckily, he’s got quick reflexes, catching you in his strong arms before you make a fool of yourself on the floor.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head. “Was I too rough on you?”

“You’re lucky I like it rough,” you shoot back, grinning tiredly. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

You smooth your rumpled skirt down and manage maybe three independent, if shaky, steps on your own before your legs start screaming in protest. With a chuckle, Napoleon lifts you up into his arms like you’re a bride on her wedding night and kisses you again.

“My stubborn nunuche,” he teases. “How am I not supposed to worry about you when you're tottering around like a baby deer taking its very first steps?”

“I so do not,” you protest, hiding your face against his chest in embarrassment.

“You so do. But it’s okay.” He jostles you lightly in his arms, making you look up at him. “I know you didn’t want to trouble me, but I like it when you rely on me. So let me bring you home and take care of you, mon amour. Let me take care of you the way only I can.”

Happily, you allow him to carry you out of the veranda and out into the main street, surrendering control to the man who is your forever; the only one who will ever reign over your heart, body, and soul. 

———

thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated 🥰

requests are CLOSED as of the time i’m posting this. please check my bio to see if they’re open :-)

rules + masterlist

[otome-love]

A Medley of Lust

Pairing: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x Reader x Jean D’Arc. 

Rating: Mature. 

Tags: Threesome, cock warming, biting, double penetration, light bondage.  A/N: My small contribution to Kinktober.

–♥– “You brazen hussy. I will make you regret this.” Mozart attempted to growl venomously as your fingers tightened around his luscious tresses of mercury, pulling at his scalp and making him hiss between his gritted fangs, those sharp canines extended past his unseemly moistened lips. You were the only one who could have render him to such a pitiful state, unable to maintain any form of decorum, his countenance painted so heinously, with such vulgarity under your deft and cruel ministrations. His amethyst eyes narrowed on yours, locked in a nearly murderous gaze while he snarled in utter contempt at the blasphemous plight he has found himself in, watching you sink down on his hardened cock with vile leisure. He fought with all his might to thrust his hips into you, ramming into you and punishing your dripping cunt for clenching him so shamefully. However, the large hands holding his thighs down ceased him from doing so. “Move, you filthy vixen. You’re bold enough to swallow my cock inside you and not follow through your crude actions.” “Not yet, Wolfie. Your patience will be… rewarded shortly. We h-have to… wait until… Ahhh… ready….” You snickered breathily before the smug smirk adorning your mischievous visage withered, your words dissipated through your parted swollen lips. Wanton moans rippled from you while the imminent sound of wet kisses resounded loudly through the haughty composer’s ears. He fought against the restraints binding him to the corners of the headboard, the thought of this betrayal having his blood boil with anger and inherent desire that he battled to conceal, especially as he grew more aware of the gentle touch brushing over his slender thighs sending shivers raking through his tense figure.

“Do not waste my time and hurry, you fiends.”

The ritual had commenced; kisses bestowed from your tailbone, over and across the length of the column of your back clearly electrifying your senses, your breathing quickening with each passing second, the tightness of your walls around his cock was a telltale of your state of trance. Mozart couldn’t help but groan as the bed shifted under him from the tacit movement of the culprit who had aided you in your undelectable ploy to have him under your mercy. Little did you know, you did not have to have him bound as he was always irrevocably caught under your spell, dancing to the tune of your shared love that he had unadmittedly yet willingly succumbed to. Why would he bother resisting the incessant tug on his heart? He was yours… You and Jean could do whatever you pleased with him and he would be the most content man on Earth. He didn’t have to say it, you simply knew it. “Patience, mon ami. Ça ne sera pas long…” The beautiful soldier muttered lowly for the first time since he had assaulted him with his schemingly innocent ways. Catching him off guard with fervent kisses, undressing him with his hesitant yet dexterous fingers only to have him pinned to the bed, leaving him completely vulnerable to you and him. An excruciating itch dared to come over him, a burning sensation building in his throat as his eyes traveled to where your bodies were connected.

He watched as the other man’s hands hiked up your trembling legs, teasing the softness of your inner thighs and meandering over your abdomen before cupping your peaking mounds. As Jean explored your body, Mozart could feel the pulsing of your core around his erection, your walls clamping down on him almost painfully as you tried to weigh his thighs down with every ounce of your being. The musician bit his lower lip, hard enough to drawn blood, only to keep himself from moaning from the delicious sensation that your cunt always graced him with.

The dark haired beauty’s fingertips circled your areola before pinching your hardened nipples with two fingers, your whines growing louder as Jean’s lips found their home on your neck, his amethyst eyes locked on Mozart’s, implicitly begging him for something only he knew he wanted from him, what he wanted to share with him. The corner of the silver-haired beauty lips twisted into a soft smile, a smile that was reserved only for his dearest friend that he truly loved… and you. With a knowing glance between the two men, Jean pushed you closer to Mozart, allowing the composer to bestow him with a chaste kiss on his cheek before dragging his fangs over your slender shoulder, sinking them into the tender skin near the crook of your neck. It was finally starting… Your bodies were instruments to your desires’ symphony, your cries blessing your lovers’ ears along with the lewd sound of Mozart sucking ravenously at your wound until he forcefully broke himself away from your sweetness, looking at the breathless soldier with half-lidded eyes. Jean didn’t have to utter a single word, the composer could see how his eyes traveled back at forth between the oozing crimson on your neck and Mozart’s blood-slicked lips. It became harder to breathe, the air even more dense with the rising bloodlust of both men. “Komm her, mein Freund.” Mozart murmured against the crook of your neck, entranced by the eyes that matched his own. Awestruck, Jean simply stared at him with yearning and desperation. Mozart lapped at your wound before binding his lips with his dear friend, the sweet metallic taste of your blood lingering in his mouth, twining his tongue with the delicate beauty of the man behind you as they revelled in the source of your life… together. 

They moaned in unison with you as Jean finally stretched you, sheathing himself deeply inside you while your entire body quivered by the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim by the two most beautiful men in the mansion.

All these sinful melodies that danced in the air, a cacophony of lust that warmed his strained body unwillingly… This was a symphony that was not mused or written by him yet enthralled the deepest part of his being. The composition of pure unadulterated chaos began to write itself in his mind as his inhibitions were stolen from him, ripped from his throat by the height of your combined passion. A medley of unbridled lust that he wouldn’t have ever contemplated if it weren’t for the two of you.

–♥–

Please feel free to leave comments/feedback!💜  Masterlist

Tagging @shhhlikeme @sweetlittlemouse @delicateikemenmemes @kisara-16 (sorry! I forgot you told me you wanted to be tagged in everything <3) and @nafeary (come get your man :*)

[otome-love]

concupiscent ( I )

a comte + mc reader + leonardo imagine.

concupiscent : part I (reposted), part II

contains nsfw, 18+ themes : block out # ungodly gem or do not proceed to read under cut if you are underage.

fic summary can be found in the link source below!

[ ikevamp masterlist ] 

Keep reading

[otome-love]

Caramel Love (Isaac Newton x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Isaac Newton x Reader

Prompt: Caramel apple

Warning: Smut!!!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 1,773

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsister​/@lordsisterxotome (Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3)

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Vampire or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: Honestly kind of a mess, but I’m going with it. Sometimes you need kind of a mess. Let’s hope it’s an enjoyable mess.

Keep reading

[otome-love]

Vampire in a Bottle (Le Comte de Saint-Germain x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Le Comte de Saint-Germain x MC

Prompt: cursed object

Warning: Smut!!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 7,251

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsister​/@lordsisterxotome (Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3)

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Vampire or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: I legit expected this to be 5 maybe 6 pages long. Was not expecting it to end up being 15 whole ass pages long.

Keep reading