#ikevam fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

candied-boys · 8 months

Text

Catboy Charles x F! Reader - Part 6

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

Part 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When you ask what he tastes his answer is simple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But first, food.

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

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

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

“Okay me too,” he smiles contentedly.

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

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

“Yes, but you were smaller.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you're here…” you mumble.

“I've always been here…”

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

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

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

Part 7

#ikevamp #ikevam charles #ikemen vampire charles #charles route release campaign #charles henri sanson #ikevamp charles #ikevam #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire x reader

53 notes · View notes

otomefoxystar · 2 months

Text

Duty of a Princess - Chapter 3

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing : Aruthur X MC

Genre : Angst/ Fluff

TW: None

It was mid-morning when hooves and men chattering outside woke you up. Opening your heavy eyes, you went to the balcony to see men unloading a carriage when a tall man stepped out. You took a deep breath and turned to go back inside, feeling as though sleep had all but abandoned you since ending things with Arthur. You walked swiftly through the castle halls until you reached the training room where all your father's knights trained. Luckily, it was still early enough that no one was there. You had changed into pants and a loose-fitted shirt. An outfit for a man, but you couldn't very well swing a wooden sword in a dress.

You had begun training since the split with Arthur. Nothing was more painful than seeing the man you love in the halls of your home and being unable to embrace him, so instead, both of you would cast your eyes away from the other or turn to walk in a different direction. You were definitely avoiding each other. Training helped clear your head of him and helped you focus on something else. It was something even Arthur himself noticed you started doing. It was either training or riding that consumed your days. When you rode, you often slowed by your old meeting spot, hoping Arthur would be there and you could feel his arms wrapping you again. You always came to your senses, though, and you would race past it with tears in your eyes. You knew you had to put him behind you, but the heart wants what the heart wants. You swung at the dummies in the training room, striking them and twirling around as you did so.

Sebastian walked into the training room with a somber look on his face. It was almost as if he knew what you were going through. Maybe everyone knew. It seemed that way, at least. "Your parents are asking for you. Your Highness." He said with a bow. You struck the dummy again, harder this time. You put the sword away, huffing from the exertion of training. "You may want to get cleaned up; your betrothed is with them, along with all the necessary people to discuss the matter of your marriage.

" He took a breath and gave you a severe look, "In other words, the scribe will be there." Your eyes widened, "you knew it was him. You knew all along, didn't you?" You clenched her teeth, "It is my job to know." You were frustrated with your feelings and lashed out before you could control your temper. "And yet you didn't tell anyone. You didn't stop me you didn't stop him. You allowed it, and because of that, we fell in love; now look at my situation! In love with one man and being forced to marry another, and Arthur. Arthur has to watch me marry someone else, write wedding invitations, and do whatever else my dear parents order him to do. He can't stop it, he can't voice his opinion, he has to go along with it."

"You're hurting, and Arthur is hurting. I can see that plain as day. I allowed it to happen because I have always been on your side, Princess. I know you don't know that, but I am, and Arthur is my friend. I wanted you both to be happy, and you both were. I didn't anticipate this to happen, so you have my apologies. As second in line, I thought you wouldn't be required to marry into nobility, but I was wrong. I am sorry, Princess." Sebastion bowed again profoundly.

Tears fell, and you sniffled. "I can't, Sebastian. I can't walk into a room where my heart is so divided. I haven't seen Arthur since we split, and I don't think I can walk into a place where the man I want to be with and the man who will marry me are in the same room." Sebastian lifted her chin.

"You are the Princess. You can do anything, so perk up. Hold your head up high and dry those tears. Show them what you are made of." You nodded your head and wiped your tears away. Your heart was pounding from nervousness, but Sebastian was right. You are the Princess and had to do this for the country. You had united with him to make allies, or so you were told.

"Come, Your Highness, get cleaned up and accompany me to the throne room." Walking scared but determined, you took a deep breath and entered the throne room. You arrived before your suitor came. "Come here, my daughter." You spotted Arthur sitting not far away, his face sullen. Was he perhaps as miserable as you were? No matter, you had to go forward with this marriage. "We are waiting on your suitor, Prince Theodorus. We are going to discuss the terms of your marriage. "Yes, father"

"Why so formal, my dear?" He asked, concerned, "You must still be angry." He shook his head. "It is irrelevant. You must do your duty to the family, to the country." Arthur looked at the King and wanted to run away. He had to be in the same room with the man who was taking his love away forever, and all he could do was sit there and watch. "I am glad you have accepted that you must do this." The King looked up and saw the Prince walking into the throne room. "here he comes." The King said as Theodorus walked majestically into the room. "Prince Theodorus, I am so happy that you've arrived. Please come forth and meet your betrothed. Arthur saw you flinch at the word, but he knew you were just as powerless as he was in the situation.

Theodorus kneeled, bowing his head. "Your Majesty, I hope the Princess and I can have a long and happy marriage." Both of your parents were beaming, obviously pleased with this Prince. All while you were internally rolling your eyes, Sebastion whispered in your ear. "Behave yourself." You inhaled and stepped forward, avoiding eye contact with Arthur. It stung, but he knew that things couldn't be like before, with stolen glances and a blush rising to your cheeks.

You had to focus on the man in front of you from now on. You were over, but seeing you allow this other man, this Prince, to kiss your hand made him boil with a kind of frustration and jealousy he'd never felt before. He wanted to run up to you and steal you away, kissing you like you've never been kissed before. "Arthur, are you alright?" Sebastian whispered, knowing that he, in fact, was not okay, but it didn't change the fact that he was concerned for his friend.

Arthur sat up straight, "yeah," he cleared his throat, "yeah, I'm just hot." Sebastian looked at him with skepticism. The King put his hand out, summoning his daughter to come to him. With your family's scrutinizing eye burning into you, you had no choice but to take your father's hand. The King stood up with his daughter's hand in his. "I present to you my daughter Princess _ _ _. The Queen and I give her to you willing to unite our countries." You curtsied low, showing the Prince respect. "Prince Theodorus." As she rose, he smiled, "Please call me Theo." The King laughed. "The wedding shall take place five days from now." The King turned to Arthur, who was busy writing down the details of what the King was saying. "Arthur, please write out the invitations and get them to the guests." Arthur bowed his head. "Yes, your Majesty," He said, trying to keep to business, pushing his feelings down.

Hearing Arthur's voice for the first time in days was like a vise grip on your heart. If only you could run to him and take him into your arms. "This meeting is adjourned, oh and Sebastian have a seamstress come by. The Queen has requested the Princess be fitted for her wedding gown." As everyone left, you bowed your head, trying to keep your weeping heart silent. You slowly exited the throne room, and Arthur watched as you ran outside, desperate for air. You felt like you were suffocating. He leaned against the window, watching you run to the stables and, moments later, dash out the castle gates on your horse.

He knew your relationship with that horse and how the outdoors brought you solace. "Damnit, why'd I have to fall for the bloody Princess?" He stormed off to start wedding invitations, how he wanted to refuse to do it at all, but. Like you, he had his part to play in this. At least he didn't have to marry someone he didn't know. As horrible as he felt, he knew you probably felt a hundred times worse. He had no idea what you were feeling, which was driving him mad.

When the sun had finally started to set, you made your way back to the castle grounds, and Illuminated in the light was the Prince walking with your sister. Trying not to be found out, you made your way to the stable as quietly as possible. Stealthily, you sneak back into the castle and into your bedroom. You plopped into the plush bedding, holding up a dove necklace Arthur had given you a while back. The purple gems it was made of twinkled in the moonlight. A tear you tried to push back escaped your eye. You were getting so sick of always crying. Your door suddenly burst open. Looking at who had entered, you grunted, "Go away, Emile." She raised her eyebrow.

"You can't tell me to go away. Look at you! You're a mess! Why won't you talk to Theo? He is charming and not to mention handsome." You rolled your eyes. "I know you were with someone else before. Just get over it." You put the necklace on your bedside table and sat up, glaring at your older sister. "If you like him so much, why don't you marry him?!" You growled with a bit more aggression than you meant to. "Why are you like this? Are you so spoiled that you can't do this one thing for our family? For the country?" You stood up from the bed

"One thing? I have to spend the rest of my life with him, someone I don't know or love. Why can't anyone see my side of things? You know what? Screw duty, screw the country, and most of all, screw you!" You tried leaving the room angrily, but your sister grabbed your arm. "You little brat! I am the future Queen, and you will listen to me. If not as your sister, then I am forced to order you to stay. In. This. Room. If you even so much as think about leaving, I will have you thrown into the dungeons. So help me, God, you will do what you are told!" She left, slamming the door.

"What could you possibly accomplish by keeping her locked away?" Her mother said, having heard the whole encounter, while passing by.

"She can't run away before she marries Prince Theo. I spoke with him earlier while she went on her escapade, and he says he'd like to at least talk with her. So I tried to intervene, but she's so stubborn." They continued to talk as they walked.

"She has to marry him regardless," her mother said as they walked away.

#Ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire arthur Conan Doyle #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur Conan Doyle #Ikevamp arthur x mc #cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire fandom #Ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevam fandom #Ikevamp fanfic

5 notes · View notes

malachiexists13 · 2 years

Text

"A Single Taste"

CHARACTER/S: Johann Georg Faust

MC'S SEX/PRONOUNS: He/Him - Male|Mitsuki - OC

GENRE: Smut🍋

ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP: Friends (Slight Romantic Interest?)

PAIRING: Dom!Faust x Sub!Mitsuki

WORD COUNT: 1,573

REQUESTED BY: N/A

//TW:

- Biting - Bloodplay - First Time Sex - Dirty Talk/Praise - Creampie - Internalized Homophobia - Desperation/Begging - Faust is maybe OOC? - Slight Religious Themes

A/N: This isn't a genderbend of Mitsuki, the actual ikevamp MC. This is an OC I created before knowing the ikevamp MC was named Mituski lol. And this is an AU inside of an AU. As in.. There's no way my Mitsuki could exist and be Faust's love interest because of Maki, the OC I've chosen as Comte's love interest. Essentially, Maki and Mitsuki cannot exist side by side in Ikevamp so it's an AU inside of an AU. This is due to the fact that they're brother and sister and so one of them has to die in order for the other to even end up there.. Also I love writing somewhat serious and composed characters as desperate and needy-

An annoyed sigh of frustration escapes Faust's lips, catching the attention of the other person in the room. Mitsuki, a young man who was unfortunate enough to find himself in this predicament. And... a young man who happened to find himself surrounded by vampires. Yet, there was something about the white-haired man that drove Faust absolutely insane.

"Hey, Faust? Are you okay?" And there it was. That endearing yet irritating as all of hell concern of his. "I'm... fine." Faust lied, not daring to look in Mitsuki's direction. Yet, he could practically feel that soft, deep green gaze burning into him with disapproval.

"You're lying. Tell me what's wrong, Faust." 'You, that's what.' But, Faust couldn't say that out loud. No, he wouldn't dare. Faust wasn't such a fool that he'd dare tell Mitsuki that he was the reason for his frustration. Maybe if Mitsuki were to get down on his knees and beg-

'No.' Faust told himself. He mustn't let such thoughts consume him. He couldn't afford to lose his cool. No matter how tempting Mitsuki's bare and exposed skin looked. No matter how irristible his blood smelled. Faust glanced over at Mitsuki from the corner of his eye, instantly annoyed by how quickly his concerned gaze set Faust's heart racing and his head filled with desires.

Faust wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into Mitsuki's soft skin, to feel the man squirm beneath his grasp, to hear him moan from the overwhelming pleasure that came from his bite. These thoughts filled Faust with disgust, how could he think such a way about another man? But the kind and gentle look in Mitsuki's eyes, the warm smile on his lips... It was too much to resist, no matter how wrong it felt.

"Faust?" A familiar and kind voice broke Faust from his train of thought, turning his head to the source of the interruption. "Yes, Mitsuki?" Faust answered, his deep voice coming off as more gruff than usual. "Are you really okay?" Mitsuki repeated his question, then added- "You can tell me anything. I'm here for you, Faust."

Something snapped inside Faust. 'Fuck it.' was the last coherent thought that crossed his mind as desire won the fierce battle against reason. All logical reason left Faust as overwhelming desire took the reins. The vampire walk over to the other man in quick-paced steps and roughly pinned him against the wall. A gasp of surprise escaped Mitsuki's lips as Faust pressed his head into the crook of his neck.

"You really are too tempting, did you know that?" Faust commented, pinning Mitsuki's hands with his own. Mitsuki had been rendered speechless by the sudden actions of the Priest. Unsure of what to say, he remained silent as Faust continued talking. "You drive me insane. I want to sink my teeth into your neck and hear you scream my name so badly."

With the way Faust whispered in Mitsuki's ear, heat was rushing through his body. A part of him was screaming at him to run, to push Faust away and get the fuck out of there, that this entire thing was wrong.

But the other part of him didn't want to run. The other part of him wanted to submit, wanted to let whatever was going to happen to happen. Mitsuki would be lying if he said he didn't find Faust attractive. Despite the Priest's usual cold behavior, something about him was... alluring. Whether it be the midnight blue hair, the sharp green eyes, his fine jawline, or the way those glasses only made him more attractive... Mitsuki wasn't sure.

A dangerous smirk curled its way onto Faust's lips as he stared at Mitsuki, almost like he knew exactly what the young man was thinking. "Tell me, Mitsuki..." Faust breathed, "Are you prepared to repent for yout sins with an offering of blood?" Without a moment's hesitation, Mitsuki answered- "Yes... I'm ready to repent... So that you may forgive me, Father Faust."

Once receiving consent, Faust quickly pulled at Mitsuki's sweater. In his desperation, he nearly ripped the fabric from his collar. As soon as Mitsuki's shoulder was exposed, Faust sank his fangs in, deep into the soft, pale flesh. Mitsuki tensed up, the bite hadn't hurt for more than a moment, but the pleasure coursing through his body was overwhelming. Heat rushed down south, causing his jeans to feel tighter than usual. He bit down on his lip, not willing to let any noises escape.

Faust, noticing Mitsuki's blatant arousal, smirked against the man's skin. Trailing one of his hands down, Faust palmed his hand against Mitsuki's hardened member through the fabric of his jeans, causing a pleasure-filled gasp and a "Ah! F..Faust!" to escape Mitsuki's throat. "Yes, that's right," Faust purred, "Call my name, just like that. Charles and Lord Vlad aren't here, so be as loud as you like." He leaned in closer towards Mitsuki, "So, go on. Scream my name as I make you drown in pleasure."

Not giving Mitsuki a moment to respond, Faust gripped the collar of his sweater and pressed their lips together. Everything felt so heated, so drowned in lust. Not a single logical or coherent thought in either of their minds. Just pure and uncontrollable need. Intent on deepening the kiss, Faust moved his hand to the back of Mitsuki's neck, instead opting to firmly press his thigh against the man's crotch.

Mitsuki gasped out, a moan escaping his lips into the kiss. Taking his reaction to his own advantage, Faust slipped his tongue between Mitsuki's lips. Exploring every inch of his mouth while the man moaned out in response. Everything was moving so quickly, not that Faust minded. His own arousal being quite apparent through the tightening of his pants.

But, he didn't want to stop. No matter how 'wrong' it may be, it all felt so right. The drunken lust in the air, the heated arousal between the two men, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of blood, all of it was too perfect to even consider letting go. And letting go was not something Faust was willing to do, not when what he desired was right in his grasp.

His last threads of reason snapping into pathetic strands, Faust pulled away from the kiss and turned Mitsuki around, helplessly grinding his arousal against the white-haired man's behind. "Mmh! Faust-" "Mitsuki..." Faust groaned, his desperation dripping into his voice. "Please, Mitsuki... Let me fuck you. I want to shove my cock deep in your ass and pump you full of my cum, claim you as mine, make you scream my name." He begged.

Mitsuki moaned out at the absolute filth that fell from Faust's lips. Those words alone mixed with the image they created nearly made him jizz his pants. The offer, or rather, the plead was an extremely tempting one. One he didn't think he could refuse. "Yes... Please... Do as you please with me..." Mitsuki whimpered.

Time seemed to fly by in their combined horny desperation. And suddenly, both men were completely naked, with Mitsuki bent over a desk with Faust's fingers inside him. Prepping him. "Ahh- Faust... mmh.. please..." he moaned out. "Yes, angel?" "Please... Take me already... I want to belong to you."

"Fuck..." Faust growled, slowly sliding his fingers out of Mitsuki's entrance. Earning a drawn-out moan from the man. Giving his hardened cock a few strokes, Faust aligned the head of his member with Mitsuki's hole. "Are you ready?" he purred, "Are you ready to get fucked dumb?" "God- Yes, please, Faust." Mitsuki begged.

Not wasting a moment's hesitation, Faust quickly slid his cock deep inside Mitsuki, both men groaning in unison. "Shit... You're so tight..." Faust grit his teeth, grabbing onto Mitsuki's hips as he began to slowly thrust in and out. "Mmhm! F...Faust!" "Heh... Are you enjoying this? Does- fuck.. Does having my cock inside you feel good?" Faust cooed.

"Y...Yes! Please, Faust... Harder.." "Hmm..." Faust lightly tapped his fingers. "Very well... But..." He quickly sped up his motions, his hips snapping against Mitsuki's as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. "Use my first name... Mmh... Call me Johann..." Faust demanded.

Faust's movements sped up once more, his hips snapping erractically as his cock slid in and out of the white-haired man's hole. The feeling was too intoxicating, the feeling of Mitsuki's walls tightening around his cock was too perfect. God, why hadn't he considered doing this sooner?

"Fau- mm.. Johann, I'm- I'm clos-" Mitsuki moaned. Faust slid one hand between Mitsuki's legs, wrapping his hand around the man's cock, giving it slow and methodical strokes. "Very well..." He leaned closer to Mitsuki's ear, "Cum for me." Feeling his body shudder in pleasure, Faust sank his fangs into Mitsuki's shoulder. A loud moan erupting from the young man's throat as the vampire lapped up the crimson that dripped from the bite. Causing pleasure to course through both their bodies.

Suddenly, Mitsuki's climax fell over his body. His cum splashing and coating both the desk and Faust's hand. The sudden tightening around Faust's cock triggered his own release, spilling everything inside Mitsuki and painting his walls white. After calming down from their respective orgasms, Faust pulled out. "We'll have to do this again sometime, but for now, let's clean up." He whispered, gently rubbing Mitsuki's back.

Mitsuki smiled, "Of course, Johann."

#ikemen series #cybird ikemen #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp faust #ikevam faust #ikevam smut #ikevamp smut #smut writing #writer #fanfic writer #johann georg faust #faust x oc #mlm love

10 notes · View notes

le-chat-sofi · 2 years

Text

In a A.U

What if Mitsunari was a superhero giving an interview...

Interviewer: It was an amazing performance right there, Mr. Mitsunari!

Mitsunari: What are you talking about?

Interviewer: You rescued those people from the attack!!

Mitsunari: It was nothing, actually…

Interviewer: If a hotty like you recued me someday, my poor heart would explode of happiness!!

Mitsunari: Do you have… heart problems? (/_＼)

Interviewer: Women would die just to see your pretty smile!!

Mitsunari: If I smile…… they will DIE??? ＼(〇_ｏ)／

In the crowd

Mitsuhide: Wooow, that's it! I give up, what a fool...

Masamune: Hahahahaha that is something we shouldn't get used to, but......

Ieyasu: My ears, my ears are BLEEDING!!!!!!

Shingen: WHAT A WASTE!! Bring ME those women!!

Luka: Poor women... heart attack and die is serious!!

Vincent: I know, what can we do to help them?

Jonah and Theo: What????? (눈_눈)

#ikemen #ikemen series #cybird games #cybird otome #cybird ikemen #otome romance #otome fanfic #otome game #otome fandom #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen masamune #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen shingen #ikevam theo #ikevam vincent #ikerev luka #ikerev jonah

11 notes · View notes

arsnovacadenza · 2 years

Note

For the blorbo ask: idk, ikevamp?

Been a hot minute since I played Ikevamp but lets goooo

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): JEAN. HE'S JUST SO UGH-So baby. So perfect.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped): Torn between Jean and Leo honestly. Leo has the softest, prettiest tiddies expression

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): I'm actually surprised I don't see a lot of Dazai stans here. Or maybe it's just the algorithm? Either way I was expecting to see a lot of poetic Dazai fanart considering he seems to be a big thing in Bungou Stray Dogs and among lit nerds. But instead I see a lot more of the Terrible Trio which is fine (Vlad is amazing and Charles is an absolute Meow Meow) but there the Dazai stans at? (Seriously, is it Tumblr's fault?)

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week) *deep breaths* Wellington. Wellington deserves more to be than just be a bloodthirsty amnesiac. He has the potential to be this witty, sarcastic Englishman who's super Genre Savvy who knows what the fuck's going on and instead of doing whatever Vlad wants him to do he can drag Napo back to England and live their best (second) life together

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave) Gilles des Rais. Hear me out. Yeah I know he turned into a murdering nutjob but there's just something tragic about his inability to cope with Jean's death. Call me morbid but I do have some fascination with characters grieving over the loss of a loved one. Are they going to cope in a healthy way? Move on? Get pulled deeper and deeper into despair?

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): Everybody is up for grabs in my fanfic. Everybody gets the angst paddle whether it's Napoleon, Jean, or Isaac and you too my dear readers

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): The Gacha gods presiding over Ikevam. WHY WILL YOU NOT GIVE ME THAT JEANPOLEON CARD ASLKLKDSFSLF

Let's do this again! I love it! (I kinda forget everyone and everything that happens in my fandom so)

#personal #ikemen vampire

11 notes · View notes

ikevamp-shrine · 3 years

Note

Hmm so i just had this idea, can i please request a drabble when when mc and dazai had their 'first time' ?? Naturally it would be a smut lol but i'd really appreciate it if you throw in some fluffs too, because i think making love with dazai is more goofy than a serious one! Thank you so much if you do this :)

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character(s): Dazai, MC

Pairing: Dazai x MC

Words: 2072

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal penetration, Dazai being Dazai

Notes: So since this request says mc I’m gonna assume its referring to the in game female MC. Anyways, thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy and forgive me for just now answering your ask. (please don’t think I’m ignoring any request that has been sent in, I just haven’t gotten around to them- they will be done at some point.)

Preview:

He traced his thumb over her bottom lip, rounding over the dip, pulling the plush pad of pink down from between her teeth. He glances up; the playful gaze gone from his eyes, instead replaced with the low burning of sizzling embers and wanton lust. He breathed in quick; her scent invaded his senses making him high on her. “Giving in to our most carnal desires, my dear.”

She swallowed thickly forcing his eyes to follow the movement of her throat. He smirked tensely. The tip of pulsating fangs caught the light as they slid from his gums. Dazai laughed lowly, his fingers wrapping around the exposed skin of her neck.

“Do you have any- “his yellowed eyes met hers, and suddenly he was all she could see- “idea... what I want to do to you?”

She opened her mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice she had never heard the man before her use. Dangerous, lethal, lustful- a trickster warning those of his true power. “Do you have any clue to how hard it is to restrain myself from piercing your skin right now and claiming you as mine?”

“Dazai.”

He hums in response to her shaky voice, completely captivated by the parting of her lips as his face reveals nothing but an internal battle within himself. She gasped when his fingers find purchase on the soft curve of her hips, bringing their bodies flush together with a tug.

“What are we doing?” A bite of her lip has Dazai trembling.

“Do you have any- “his yellowed eyes met hers, and suddenly he was all she could see- “idea... what I want to do to you?”

“I-.” She furrowed her brows, completely at lost as to what to say.

His grip on her throat tightened as Dazai loomed over her form, his wispy breaths of whispers tickling her ear like a lonely breeze. “I want you. All of you.”

He rested his cheek on her shoulder, glancing up at her wavering eyes with need, continuing, appearing vulnerable and innocent, “you want me to... don’t you?”

She nodded, not trusting her words.

Dazai pulled away, completely ridding the girl of his touch as her hand twitched, raising to grab at the thick fabric of his clothing. He grabbed her hand, tsking while murmuring, “I’m going to need a verbal consent to be sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

She panted, her eyes pleading and hands shaking. “Please Dazai. I need you.” His jaw clenched. “Did you know I’m a selfish man, my dear? I will not share.”

She pulled him to her. His silken hair dangled in the air, his hands slammed on either side of her head against the wall she was pressed to, steadying himself. Their foreheads touching, breaths mingling, and hearts yearning.

She gasped for air, her want building to unimaginable heights, “be selfish then. Take me and keep me as your own.”

Dazai stilled, his face dropping and tone depressed. “That’s unfair. You know I can’t resist when you say things like that.” He shook his head, a devilish smile appearing, his features morphing into fox like proportions.

“Ask and you shall receive, my dear,” he paused his words to lift the woman up, turning towards the bed, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, “after all- “he laid her down on his sheets, gently tracing the buttons on her blouse, popping one open at a time- “I am nothing more than a poor writer pleased to be a servant to someone as radiant as you.”

Dazai’s lips caressed the soft skin of her exposed stomach. Chills rose along her flesh as his finger ran over the curve of her thigh, his body moving over her, his kisses leaving a burning path down her body. His hand wrapped under her knee, kneading slowly. Pushing her leg in the air, Dazai watched as her skirt slipped down the limb. His other hand gripped her hip. His face went blank. His glowing, yellow eyes observed the flush of her skin, the reddening marks he left on her stomach, the heave of her breasts that began to spill out of the cups of her bra, the plush of her lips, and the blatant need in her eyes. His head tilted. Silky bangs hiding one side of his face. He whispered, “say my name.”

She shivered when his tongue met the sensitive expanse of her calf, lapping slowly up to her ankle. “Dazai.”

His fangs nibbled at her toes; her shoes previously discarded on the floor. MC gasped, her leg jerking at the ticklish sensation.

“Who do you belong to?” Dazai growled lowly, his eyes flashing.

MC moaned as his teeth dug into the front of her ankle. “You, you- only you.”

Dazai hummed, his eyes drifting closed as he opened himself to the intense emotions and rising tension. Muscles twitched under his mouth as he tracked back down her leg, his hand sliding from her hip to the waist band of her skirt, tugging the fabric off and tossing it to the floor. Opening his eyes, lids hooded with lust, the writer inhaled sharply at the spread of her hips before him. Her hands gripped at his sheets when he descended upon the growing wet spot on her panties.

She stopped breathing, her breath catching in her throat, when the male flattened his tongue over her clothed entrance; his moan vibrating through her at the taste. Her knees bent over his broad shoulders- broader that what they appeared. She felt his muscles tense and ripple as he sucked and licked at her through her underwear, his saliva mixing with her damp want. Her legs began to tremble when sharp teeth bit the cloth of her panties; her heart fluttered dangerously as Dazai pulled them off with his lips.

He looked utterly feral as he rose above her, regal even. Majestic, powerful. Like a snake slithering around its prey, soon to wrap around its form and swallow the defenseless creature whole. Dazai flicked his tongue out to lick over the glimmering points of his fangs, still tasting MC on his lips. His skin appeared to shimmer in the candle light, his pupils dilating and nostrils flaring as he nuzzled his face into her inner thigh. His breath fanned over the apex of her thighs, his low laugh shifting through the air when he saw her clench with excitement.

“Look at how obedient you are being. Spreading yourself just for me… I might just give you a reward.” They met gazes; she felt dizzy.

Dazai’s fingers dipped into her, coating the digit as she groaned. He curled inside of her, his jaw clicking at the tightness. He already knew he would struggle with not being completely consumed by the thought of her. He pumped slowly, building her up only to push himself knuckles deep, adding another finger. She moaned louder at the sudden stretch.

Dazai’s brows furrowed with concentration and MC barely heard him speak.

“I hope the walls are thick.”

She panted, confused. “W-what?”

He glanced back up at her reddened face, murmuring, “I hope the walls are thick or our neighbors will hear every pretty moan of yours.”

Her eyes widened when he reached above her head, knocking on the wall, mind blanking as she watched the writer smile expectantly at the barrier behind her. Another knock sounded back making her blood run cold.

Dazai shifted his gaze back down at her, smirking flippantly at her baffled expression. “Not so thick after all, I guess.”

MC blushes, opening her mouth, huffing embarrassingly.

Dazai shifts, leaning back on his haunches, knees bent under him. He brings MC with him, pulling her to straddle his lap. His hands rests on her lower back as he watches her, amused at how desperately she tries to untie his clothing, her embarrassment forgotten.

Her hands shake, her whine tumbling past her teeth when the knot tightens instead of coming apart.

Dazai rubs his hands around the globe of her bottom, soothing her. The knot finally comes undone and MC slips her hands under his clothing, pushing the fabric back, relishing in the smoothness of his skin beneath her finger tips. His clothing pools on the bed, catching at his elbows making him appear as if he was a fertility god ripe for the taking.

With tensing muscles and sweat damp skin, Dazai crashes his lips onto hers, their tongues fighting for dominance. His fingers flex against her skin, his form flinching when he feels MC grip the heavy weight of his cock between her palm, pumping and squeezing. A breathless moan follows and Dazai’s head falls limp between the junction of MC’s shoulder as she jerks his manhood; her thumb rubbing over the sensitive slit, smearing what seeps out along the smoothness of his skin.

His stomach tenses, his mouth pulled into a grimace. Dazai grips MC’s wrists, stopping her, whispering shakily, “easy. I want to make this last.”

He takes a nipple within his mouth. It pebbles between his teeth, darkening as she throws her head back, scratching her nails against his scalp. He reaches between them to rub the swollen head of his cock against her clit. Her wetness drips down her thigh, dampening the cloth still trapped around Dazai’s thighs.

“Damn it, stop teasing me,” MC groans out, frustrated and impatient.

“The best things come to those who wait,” Dazai grins.

She digs her nails into his nape in warning, forcing a hiss from the writer. He glanced up at her heated eyes, smirking impishly around her nipple.

He snorts. “Ok, ok. Stop abusing this poor man.”

She breathes heavily, his tongue lapping at her chest, moving up her collar bone; he sucks at the pulse of her neck as he pushes the tip of his cock into her sopping heat. MC whimpers.

Dazai’s arm cages her, wrapping around her middle, holding her still as he slips deep within her.

“Ah! Dazai...” MC mewls, hugging his shoulder as they begin to rock together.

The writer whines at the heat gripping his cock. They lose each other in themselves. Clawing at the other’s skin in hopes of leaving a mark. They become one; feeling their bodies slide against each other, their minds fuzzy and hearts entwining.

“My dear,” Dazai growls, his fangs dropping further than they had before, his throat screaming with the need for it to be cooled by the one he craves, “I need... please, let me.”

His head is pushed back into the curve of MC’s neck as she nods at his begging, knowing and willing for him to take what he wants.

Dazai places his lips loosely over her skin, lightly brushing her with his lips, kissing delicate flesh stained with effects of his actions. Allowing his teeth to scrape against her, his eyes shoot open when she moans out.

“-close,” she mumbles, her body tensing and back arching.

He feels the tight fluttering of her walls around him as he sinks his fangs deep within her skin, holding her tight so she doesn’t rip his fangs through her flesh while she bucks wildly; waves of pleasure crashing over her, overwhelming her, dragging her down the river of ecstasy. Dazai grunts sharply, pulling himself out of her warmth to spurt thick ropes of white along the quivering planes of her stomach. Rolling his hips in the air, Dazai’s illuminated eyes grow blurry; his mind suffocating with the pleasure and the taste of his lover.

He sucks once roughly, his brows pinching together, face pained. Slowly removing his long canines from MC when she stills; her back shivered, rising and falling quickly.

She exhales when his tongue, slick with her blood, laps weakly at the puncture wounds upon her neck, helping it to heal. Exhaustion seeps deep within her bones as they bask in the aftershocks of their love making, holding each other close, her head on his chest listening to the steady thumps of his heart.

“Still with me?” Dazai questions. Euphoria makes his voice heavy and lazy.

She nods.

Dazai uses his sleeve to wipe his cum from her skin, pressing their cheeks together. He tenderly strokes her spine as he takes in the warmth of her companionship. “Stay?”

MC falls back dragging Dazai with her. They both laugh as she digs her nose into the crease of his breasts. He kisses the top of her head when she responds, her voice thick with the need for rest, their legs tangling as they slowly drift off to sleep, “always.”

Tagging @dazaiswindow @alby-rei @gallifreysperfectrose @nishtharya @robin-the-enby for saying yes on my previous post

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevam #ikevam dazai #ikemen vampire dazai #ikevamp dazai #ikevam fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevam fanfic

183 notes · View notes

janumun · 3 years

Text

Afbranden Chapter 13: A Future (With You) [Last Chapter]

Pairing: Theo/Female Reader, [past] Arthur/Female Reader Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: Approx. 3100

Warning Tags: infidelity, explicit sexual content, hurt and comfort, eventual second relationship, Arthur main story spoilers, sad with a happy ending, vaginal fingering, oral and vaginal sex

Summary: Slow fractures creep across what you considered a happy, loving relationship; the inevitable break bleeding into your and Arthur’s lives, sure and sinister until it’s finally too much. The woman Theo holds untoward affections for finds herself lost and he… he is unable to stay and watch from the shadows as he has, all this time.

Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (End)

Tagging: @tell-that-to-my-feather, @shookspearewrites, @iotona, @crystal13unny, @ikevamp-shrine-2, @otomebebe

9 months later

[A cottage in the countryside of Brabant]

Her hair’s grown much in length within the past several months, Theo observes, as she seats herself by the vanity to undo the braids the children she’s taken to teaching — during their time away from France — wove through for her. Perhaps she doesn’t care to cut it because of how it amuses her tiny pupils, to ‘dress’ her up during their breaks in between lessons. He’d once teased her about it; how his little puppy seemed to have adopted a litter of her own, to which she’d responded with a raised brow, a lopsided smile and a very sensual: Like this beautiful man I’ve got on my hands, one so very smitten with me?

She’d winked then before drifting straight out of his grasp. Leading him into a dance; she’d wished to get caught, she breathed against his lips, once he did. Nipping her moans along with the gentle brush of teeth, testing at her lower lip before he kissed her full.

It seems foolish, almost a time long past, to remember how he'd proposed they temporarily move back to his homeland while the Comte sorted matters in Paris. To have dealt with that frisson of fear, of her rejection, if she turned him down. If she didn't want him by his side, anymore... but she hadn't. She'd smiled, so joyous, and kissed him before she uttered her assent in a laugh she pressed against his cheek.

Now, fond of the place as she’s grown, she insists on being entirely foolish, thanking him for bringing her along to where he’d spent most of his childhood. Declaring they simply must visit his home once more sometime within the next year. His heart she’d taken for her own as if once more with the way she’d eased herself enough to speak of a future, with him. It was a foreign experience; to hear of another’s dreams no matter how minuscule they seemed and plot his path against hers, aligning themselves.

“I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again. Aren’t you, Theo? Although I wish le Comte hadn’t arranged return tickets for us.”

“Vincent’s letter mentioned they’re well. He also mentioned how none of them can wait to see you again.” He flashes her a knowing smirk. She laughs.

“I’m sure they’ve missed you too, especially Vincent. I can’t wait to see his reaction when he receives our gift.”

The entire day they’d spent within the nearest town, picking souvenirs for the mansion residents she’d stressed on buying. None of her hard-earned money she planned to keep for herself, for they’d find ‘better use’ in their gifts to their friends.

The sound of King’s eager bark gathers his gaze toward where his fur friend paws at her for attention she more than generously provides. Theo can’t help the grin that pulls at his mouth to witness the exchange. “My hondje seems far too fond of King than she does of her own master.”

She hums in thought at the assessment. “Perhaps… the master’s been rather out and about to give proper care to one he insists is his favorite partner. If you’re not careful, she might just make better friends with King.” His little traitorous friend seems content to bark his agreement before trotting out of the room in high spirits.

Theo snorts at the absurd notion; moving to haul himself off the bed and steal towards her. Heaving his scarf aside, he tosses it onto a nearby chair, stepping behind her. Sharp gaze fixated upon hers within the mirror. He reaches a hand out to ease her free hair over to one shoulder, dragging his palm, slow, across the exposed flesh. She, predictably, shivers; it sets the blood raging tighter within his veins. “Oh? Are you trying to fish for attention?”

She tips a hooded gaze over her shoulder, pink tongue darting to slick a quick path against her lip. Theo's own digits twitch upon her in response. A slow, torturous drag of her chemise off her shoulder.

A smooth delicate finger she moves to tap against her parted lips, “You seem well-aware so why don’t you do something about…” Carding fingers tight through her hair to angle her face upwards, he dips, letting his mouth slip against hers. One brush turning into another. Several kisses: soft, biting, chaste... then wet. Her hands are within his hair, jolting him closer; her hums pleased and delighted, breathless. It pilfers the air from his own lungs to hear the sound of her happiness.

As if he could — no he would — never tire of feeling her skin against his own. His heart, his body and desires ache and beg to flee in her direction every single time he moves to touch her. Each one: burning and singeing his soul like the very first time he'd put his hands on her. Consuming him bit by bit, with each single sound, each important gaze that seeks to find his in her love and lust and begs for him. An insatiable greed for this one woman; the bottom of a well he doesn't see in sight.

She bites down at his lower lip, her voice spills on a needy Theo, more. His entire rationale is bitter ashes in the wake of this one woman, at her mercy and he wants her — wants her as ruined as she has him, the devil within soughs in possession.

Hauling her off of the vanity’s chair and into his arms the second she tries and tests his patience; desperate lips moving against each other. Theo moves to sink his own bite into the plush of her lip — well-earned — her hold around his neck spasms at the stimulation.

Before she taps at him to be let down, impelling his body soon after onto the settee behind. Clambering on top of him, she cements an eager knee on either side of Theo’s thigh. Sinking down upon firm muscle, bunching the fabric of her gown, to expose her own. The warmth of her, damp beneath panties as she gyrates her hips against him. “Greedy,” he muses, his smile wide, — as if he is anything but — fingers threading secure through her hair before he tugs her mouth back against his, sweeping the taste of her onto his tongue.

Her restless digits rush down the line of buttons on his shirt as she moans against him; Theo hauls her tight into himself, catching up her wrists within a fist he pins to her breasts. She makes a sound of protest so needy, it tows a dark burst of laughter from his chest. Meeting her gaze, he holds it firm, flexing fingers in one warning squeeze, so she knows, “Not before I do, snoepje.”

Rebuked once, he tips his mouth back towards her jaw, her neck; dragging gossamer skin in between the bite of gentle teeth. The scrape of fangs he lets settle on her, she feels in each single searing kiss. His name’s a low, desperate prayer across her lips, nails digging into his fist demanding he kiss her. And he goes, to silence those garbling sounds of hers, sealing his mouth against hers till she jerks forward within his grasp. “Theo… Theo, I need you.”

The way each word seeps in desperation, a different kind; the bite of fingernails into flesh each time she moves to tug him closer…

Tongue testing one last sweep against her wet lips, he draws back to capture her gaze — warm in affection and lust so consuming, he feels his own arousal, uncomfortable, beneath the tight placket of trousers.

He’d held her close; he’d kissed and pleasured; drunk from her numerous times they’d lost count along with the sounds he’d pilfered right from her throat…. short of making love to her. Theo had no intention of drawing her into his bed, in that manner, any time soon, not if she wasn’t ready. He was a patient man, used to the test of endurance, but the way she looked upon him, as if her own breathless heaves were blanketed only through his body against hers, he had to halt and listen.

Shaping a palm against her cheek — she’s incredibly warm, he wants his mouth back on her soon — he asks, “Are you sure?”

Her answer is a sweet, gasping sound; a nod and the imprint of her lips as she tips her head, into the palm he holds against her cheek. “...More than I’ve ever been in my life. I want to take you… entirely.”

Theo's heart very nearly gives with how she coaxes his undoing, effortless, disastrous thing; how her affections — and comfort within their love — sifts through to the surface in a smile so vivid, he very nearly releases hold upon hard-bunched control within but this — her assent to be his, all of her…

“That’s a good response, hondje.” Mouth pulling apart on a grin, Theo teases a thumb against her own flushed smile as if he wishes to make sure it is true. Sweeps her back against him, forearms folding beneath and buckling the plush of her thighs as he lifts her. Theo basks in the taste of her high squeal of delight as it presses into his mouth before tossing her onto the sheets. “Don’t expect any mercy, hondje. Tonight, I’m not letting go even if you beg me to.” He can’t drag his shirt, fast enough, off of his back before discarding it, brusque, to the floor.

A happy, dazed smile framed by the glow of her cheeks; locks scattered as if floret vines across his pillows: she’s nothing short of exquisite art herself. He bites back the words before they tumble free off a traitorous tongue.

“I have a greedy lover on my hands, Theodorus van Gogh.” She quips his words right back at him.

Palms sinking into the mattress on either side of her body, he offers her a grin of his own. “Never denied it, hondje.” His hands are upon her, bunching the fabric of her nightgown in a drag up against her body. Tossing crumpled fabric and her bra off the side. Until she is entirely his to admire and touch; his breaths punched into a deliberate inhale to curve the path of her exposed collarbones, the swell of her breasts — the softest of grazes of fingernails across the tip has them puckering hard beneath a shuddering gasp.

If he’d been told she’d be here within his arms, that she’d be far more devastating — beautiful — beneath tracing fingertips, more so than he’d ever envisioned within vivid dreams; Theo might’ve laughed at the very notion of such folly. Dreams had always been just so; beautiful swathes of visions he’d been chasing after, since his humans years, stubborn as he was and now, not dead, as a creature of the night. That she chooses to relinquish herself to him of her own will, as if choosing to fulfil his dreams... He’s in love with this woman. It’s hard to think of any other state of being when she is beneath him like this: open affection across that crooked smile.

Theo breathes her in; a fortifying breath. Fingers following trail of a hungering mouth upon her, he hooks her legs apart, pressing into the space in between. A low gasp of discontent and desire breaks the air, “Theo—”

“Hands where I can see them,” he directs, harshly. Dark, sapphire gaze meeting hers — flushed — in between her legs, he tucks her panties to the side. And halts: the sight of wet folds, glistening with her arousal, flushed, erotic, his cock throbs at the sight and scent of her, it nearly drives him insane.

Eyes flickering her way, he quirks a brow — eyes on me — before he drags a broad swipe of tongue against her folds. Her jaw falls open, head thrown back onto a startled moan, shattering onto a hitched squeal as he hauls her closer. “This… is in the way,” he mutters, bunching her underwear to tear apart. “Don’t you dare look away.” The warning’s a low, rattling sound of lust, Theo tracks a harsh bite into the soft of her thigh to affirm that threat in place. She listens, trembling gaze returning to watch, a fist she presses into her mouth to bite, smothering her moans.

The entirety of her being as if made to hound and steal his senses. He withdraws his attentions back to how her pussy weeps; his own arousal tightens and burns with the urge for release. Moving forward to bury his face into her, his tongue steals a quick, angled path across her — she shivers but otherwise, remains obedient.

Good girl: he chuckles. Secretes his praise into her slit, Theo kisses and sucks a path across her. Nosing at her clit as he moves to curve his tongue into her. Her hips jump along with the groan that claws free of his body at her drenching his mouth, her taste, liquid addiction. His fangs, scrape against her and she moans a distant, broken sound. High, pitching higher, he moves to push two fingers into her depths. Her body immediately clamping onto the sensation with an obscene squelch.

Theo moves to wrench himself away from the intoxication of her body, pressing an open-mouthed smirk onto her mound. She’s whining as if a broken, wrecked thing; eyes clouding over and begging for release, the sight shoots straight to his groin. Adding a finger to the mess of her, scissoring into her walls; withdrawing slow before he thrusts in deep. Curving tapered digits up into her spasming walls to rub at that one specific spot he finds makes her clamp hard, scream loud.

Her breaths are labored, breaking apart the syllables of his name into three wonderful, fucked-out garbles — she could sound much more ruined, he knows she will — until she makes of his name, a senseless Th-eee-o. He relishes it, traipsing open mouthed kisses across her heaving belly, a twisted sound of laughter leaves the confines of his chest at her next scream. “You’re slurring your words, lekker ding. Don’t think I can decipher your whining like that.”

Her eyes are as round, as the formation of her mouth into an O as if she means to retort… before he breaks her for himself. Trapping his fingers as he hooks them into her depths, grinding against her spot, her voice flees entirely. Soundless cries and tears, her incessant shaking the only response of her body to her orgasm.

Trembling fingers reach to frame his face, weave through his hair before she heaves him onto her mouth, pressing heated breaths against his tongue and he lets her — for a few moments of reprieve. Extracting himself out of her — she whines into his mouth — before he draws away, smearing the tips of slick digits against her lips. Painting her glistening for himself before he sweeps in to sample.

She tastes just as — better. Divine, his mind whispers — than what he’d conjured within fever dreams; her body’s pliant beneath his touch and she is his, a primal part within snaps, rejoices.

Her fingers clutch into fists across his chest before she knocks him back gently; Theo lets her glide along with his own descent onto his back as she moves to trap him in between her legs. Unbuttoning his pants before those coveting digits reach into and palm at his cock; his palms convulse across the flare of her hips as she raises herself. Positioning his cock in between her thighs, gaze skewing to meet his.

“Sit on me— Godver!” He clenches out in between grinding teeth, fingers trailing across the slope of her ass to settle upon the small of her back to push. And she goes, thankfully, down. Theo’s unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of her nether flesh parting around him, drenched, tight, a feral growl singes free of his throat along with her choked whimper.

The erratic movement of her breasts along with her urgent thrusts upon him, streels his gaze and fingers, rolling the dark tips of them until she breaks onto a pleading whisper. Scraping fingernails across his scalp when he pitches his mouth across her nipple, sweeping a broad lap against the hardened peak. Squeezing at the soft flesh, a palm he forces down against her spine to guide when the symphony of her rhythm falters. Theo’s almost addicted to the sound of her voice around the syllables of his name, making and breaking apart. “T-That! This feels… i-insane!” she gasps.

“Insane? So it feels good then.” The smirk he feels pulling around the release of her peak to nip in between her breasts. She yelps, the torturous, wet squeeze of her pussy around his length dragging his own grunt.

“S-So…” She breathes, shatters, head tipping back in pleasure but he’s there, gathering a palm at the back of her head to pull her gaze towards him. Keeping her from withdrawing too far. She tries and frowns, around her breathless sounds — fails — before attempting words. “So… very aware and — ah — modest t-too.”

Her palm caressing across a firm pectoral before she finds her own target and pinches at his nipple in between middle and index — the pleasure that jolts through him at her audacity blooms white-hot just as her stuttering phrases, coiling into his groin.

“Buckle up, hondje.” He grins, fierce, riled; tongue sweeping a path against glistening teeth as he folds his hands beneath the give of her ass, lifting — she whines her protest — and tosses her back towards the pillows. Sweeping just as soon after, inhuman brisk reflexes sanding in, he fists a hand beneath the back of her head before it meets the headboard. Fixating a firm grasp across her arm, knees knocking her thighs apart to hold her down hard. Theo snaps his hips forward, entering her on a swift thrust, she screams to her God on her next, fractured breath.

“Your words are pleasant to hear, snoepje. Make me want to prod at you.” Letting her head roll onto the down of their pillows as she sobs out broken, beautiful sounds, he feels his own release rising imminent within his groin. “But you sound sexier when you can’t form them, let alone gather sane thoughts.”

Looming over; every single propulsion brushes against her clit and she’s pretty and ruined beyond measure as she unfurls her arms towards him. Securing his head within the crook of her shoulder, as if she’d never let go. Theo breathes his final warning, hot against her neck, “Sing louder, mijn liefje.” Tongue sweeping a desperate, wet path against her skin before he plunges aching fangs into her, just as her walls flutter and drench in a tight hold around — she listens, obedient, and screams her release.

The light streaming in is merciless against his closed lids and her fingers are restless, feathering patterns across his chest; he catches her wrist within a loose, languorous fist before dragging it up to his mouth in a nip. “....My hondje’s got the energy to play so early in the morning?” Meeting her wide-eyed, contrite gaze as he tips his head at her, half-draped across him.

“I am… sorry?” Wriggling the digits of her captured wrist before she smiles.

He beams, unkind; the Devil. “Don’t apologize. I’ve got energy to spare.” She releases a choked sound of disbelief, gathering his palm within her free hand just as he's moving to slip it in between her legs.

“Thank you, no. I am sore and satisfied.” She breathes, feathering a kiss against his captive fingers. Angling a sanguine brow at him. “Perhaps this afternoon…”

He laughs then, a surprised, unrestricted burst of happiness. “As soon as we’ve had breakfast, I’ll need my sugar, knabbeltje.” He amends. She returns to peppering open-mouthed kisses across his neck, his face — he almost considers asking her to give way before his heart does. Almost.

But she is merciless, a finger traces familiar patterns right across his heart. “What are you doing?”

“Writing. Words. Since you’re fond of them.” She skews a loving grin his way, dangerous—

Gathering herself up above him before she drops in for a kiss. Murmuring her words against his mouth, the truth of her heart, fracturing his own to fall into her palms. “…Ik hou van je, Theo.” Brutal, cruel but she's still just his.

I love you, too. More than life, more than I’ve ever loved and I will, for as long as my heart continues to sound its renewed beats. Across centuries and through time, schatje, I will.

Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (End)

End Notes: Thank you all for joining me for this long, almost an entire year long journey. This story has been so very dear to me and I'm delighted I got the chance to share it with you all. And for Nana, who let me run with this spark of idea, starting with some soft loving wisps for Theo and the prompt she requested:

I am so sorry, Nana and thank you for letting me write this, ILU2!!

Ahem, friends, you can find the rest of my stories within my master-post here.

#ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp theo x reader #ikevamp theo smut #ikevamp smut #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam smut #ikevam fanfic #ikevam theo #ikevam theodorus #ikevam theo x reader #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire fanfiction #a pickle writes #you are so queu(t)e

91 notes · View notes

juminly · 3 years

Text

Invisible String (Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader)

Prompt #4 and #77 by @missmorosis: “Marry me. Now.” and “I can’t say her name without smiling!”

Tags: Fluff + Mutual Pining. PS: Everything in Italic is spoken in French. –♥–

As the song “Sacré Charlemagne” rang loudly in the air, you were whisked into a jolly circle with the children in the little school that Napoleon and Isaac created by the fountain, which you always seemed to forget the name. You absolutely hated using the term “poor children” as everyone referred to them so you made an effort to learn and memorize each one of their names, even if it earned you a few devilish snickers when you stuttered over a few of their names, fumbling through your misconstructed sentences.

Compared to the children, your grammar and vocabulary was absolutely atrocious and it seemed like the infamous Monsieur de Wahaha found way too much pleasure in it, you could see him biting his bottom lip, muffling his chuckle yet his shoulders gave him away before the rambunctious sound escaped him, racking through his entire body. The few swats that Napoleon had to suffer from you did not deter him from losing himself into a fit of laughter. Your expressions never failed to amuse him, his heart feeling lighter than it had ever been in his chest and the adorable pout on your lips that tempted a little too much.

Just to press his lips against yours, Napoleon would always think. Only for a moment, that’s all he wished for. To simply hold you in his arms, engulf you in his warm embrace, where you would be safe and… loved. Feel your soft plush lips and watch as your face turns to a bright shade of red that roses would envy. His thoughts always found a way to drift to you. The petite nunuche with a kind heart, a bright mind and sass that could rival Mozart’s snark.

While you attempted to decipher the words that you were singing, your botched pronunciation did not help much though, the children jumping around, pulling you forcefully into the merry atmosphere that you had absolutely no qualms to join. Fingers that were even smaller than yours wrapped tightly around your palms, squeezed them as tightly as you felt your heart clench in your chest. Even when you were so far from the place you truly called home, with Napoleon, with these children, you found another meaning to the word. How was it that even when you were in the middle of dancing and having fun, your mind was still flooded with thoughts of him? Finding absolutely any hook just to keep him in your mind, clinging to you with no chance for you to escape from them. Even if you wanted to. Was it because he was near? Was it because you felt his eyes on you? Without even looking, you could feel the intensity of his piercing gaze, thoughtful yet kind, that made your body go through a plentiful of sensations that were too many to count on your fingers. Napoleon didn’t realize that he had paused his lesson, his eyes trained on you, seeing you radiate happiness, the happiness that the little ones shared with you even when they lived in some of the most dire of circumstances. If there is anything that you have learned, it was that the smallest things that made a difference. It is the little things that truly mattered. That is a truth that the former Emperor himself has come to realize after being relieved from the responsibility of leading his country and has tasked himself in aiding those that would be the future of France. “Who taught you that song, Clement?” Napoleon called out to one of the boys that were in your circle, shaking his head incredulously and still laughing for a reason that you had still yet to uncover. You weren’t sure what Napoleon was necessarily asking but it was definitely about the song. That was the only word ‘chanson’ that you recognized in his sentence.

“All of you. Come here and form a circle. I think it’s about time that you all learn about what Charlemagne has truly done and why you should be grateful.” Chuckling to himself, he stood from the spot he was sitting in and walked towards you, leaning down so that you were both eye to eye. You didn’t know why every time he did that, it made your heart flutter, doing a bunch of those weird somersaults that kinda made you want to puke.. But not really, at the same time. Being around Napoleon made you feel a flurry of strange sensations. Thinking about him too. That was a fact. “You do realize that this song depicts how much children hold contempt for Charlemagne for inventing school? Whatever you were singing with them right now beats the whole purpose of what we are trying to do for them.” With an eyebrow cocked, Napoleon folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting for a response from you yet the corner of his lips were clearly strained as he fought back a wide smile. “Wait…” You blinked at him in surprise, clearly unaware of the situation that you were put into due to the language barrier. “I… I promise I had no idea! That was definitely and totally not my intention! Oh my God…” It was a funny situation and you found yourself stuck between a state of slight panic and laughter, both emotions reflecting clearly on your visage. The last thing that you wanted was for Napoleon to be disappointed in you. You held him in such high regards, and he did so to you when it came to you, so you didn’t want to do anything to ruin that. A small laugh escaped him, his large hand reaching to ruffle your hair gently before tucking the stray strands away from your face and behind your ear. A gesture that was so simple yet that was done with so much love. Love that you were completely blind to. “This is why you’re my petite nunuche. Come sit and I’ll explain it all to you, princess.” The sly grin he gave you, one that was more like a wide smile, was much too irresistible, your own smile tracing across your blushing face. As he turned away from you and found his seat before everyone, you noticed something. You knew that look in his eyes. It was one that you knew very well, the passion brimming in them, the heart he put into teaching these childrens and sharing with them everything that he had to give. Nothing was ever too much to ask for with Napoleon. God… you couldn’t stop staring at him and you still hadn’t realized why, assuming it was just because he was a born charismatic leader who was now capturing everyone’s attention as he began a history lesson about the medieval emperor Charlemagne and all he had done for France and for the world. Whenever any discussion happened between you, he always leaned down and looked straight into your eyes, especially since you were quite shorter than him. Even when you stood next to one another, he still did the same. Not only with you but with the kids as well, crouching down so that he was on the same level as them, never making anyone feel as though they were inferior. Never looking down on anyone. He spoke to all, treated all, as his equals. No matter who they were. Your daydreams and musings aside, you tried to focus on Isaac’s voice as he spoke in your ear, recounting to you in English all of the stories that Napoleon was painting before all of your eyes. His mind being a wealth of historical knowledge, he ensnared you with his storytelling, even when you had absolutely no idea what he was saying, needing the help of your dear friend, Isaac Newton, to explain it all to you.

“I have a question, Napoleone!” One of the kids, Patrick, raised his hand excitedly and was basically hopping on his cute little butt, curiosity seemingly eating at the young boy. When Leon gave him a curt nod, Patrick giggled and asked. “Why do you call big sister, nunuche?” “Well, there’s a very simple answer to that question. I call her nunuche because she has absolutely no clue that she has stolen my heart.” He declared with a warm smile, his deep voice reflecting the same. As the conversation took a turn, Isaac clicked his tongue, grumbling something that you didn’t catch under his breath and walked away from the big circle that you had formed in the middle of the small town square. Some of the kids were giggling and others were making gag noises. Whatever Napoleon had said really changed the mood. With your eyebrows furrowed, it was a bit bizarre to see the physicist’s face suddenly turn red. Was he that irritated from the story Napoleon was telling the kids about Charlemagne? Now that Isaac was gone, you were left with no one to translate the ongoing discussion for you. Well, upon Napoleon’s instruction, whenever he was addressing the children directly and couldn’t directly translate to you, Isaac would have to step in for him and help you understand the different French expressions and words, especially the most common ones. But… what were they saying now? You did hear the word Nunuche but they were definitely not talking about you. Were they, though? Still, you didn’t want to leave, even if you were completely lost and oblivious to what was going on. You knew that Napoleon would explain it all to you later. “Does that mean that big sister is a thief?” Jacques asked. “Non, non.” He chuckled, shaking his head and sighing out his next words. “It means that I love her with all my heart.” “Is it like how I love my dog?” The little man inquired again. “I love mushrooms!” The youngest of them all, Carmen, chimed in with her own declaration. “Haha, we can all love different things. Love comes in many ways and we all feel it differently.” “How does it feel for you then, Napoleone?” Lea, who was sitting right by his side, inquired considerately, seemingly scrutinizing every word the Frenchman said. He couldn’t help but smile widely, admiring the smart glint in her eyes, the curiosity in her was nothing but meaningful and quite in place. Eyes that reminded of his beloved. You. “Well…” He pondered for a few seconds, trying to find a simple way of putting his feelings into words. “I can’t say her name without smiling.” And just the thought of it did the same, in that very moment. “And sometimes, I think that I might just walk up to her and simply ask her. “Marry me. Now.”” He admitted, the corner of his eyes crinkling a tiny bit as he announced so. God, now you really wanted to know what they were talking about. To know the reason why Napoleon looked almost… giddy in that calm authoritative way of his. “Oh! Oh! That means you want to also have kids with her!” Jacques, ever the talkative one, stated confidently. “Haha, indeed. That is something I do wish to have with her.” As he turned to look at you, you could see his smile turn wistful, the way his eyes fell upon you held so much longing, a yearning for something that may not ever be fulfilled. “I promise, I’ll tell you about everything we just said.” He reassured you with that exact same smile, masking the fleeting sadness that overcame him by clearing his throat, demanding everyone’s attention and returning back to his storytelling. He would tell you all about that conversation he had with the kids. Maybe not on that day… but what he had to say was for later, or maybe never. Luckily for him, none of the children knew how to speak English or they would have blurted out the confession that Napoleon had yet to make. –♥– A/N: Consider this as a snippet from your matchup story with your Leon. I hope you enjoy this @delicateikemenmemes and yes, the title is a Taylor Swift song reference hehe 💜 And thank you @sweetlittlemouse for beta-ing my insecure ass. Tagging: @nafeary @kisara-16 Please feel free to leave some love in the comments or some feedback!💜 You can also check out my Masterlist !

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen series #ikevam fanfic #napoleon bonaparte

142 notes · View notes

kaeyas-beloved · 3 years

Note

i’m a sucker for platonic teenage mc. could i maybe have a scenario where mc is v close to leo and accidentally calls him dad. maybe they’re building something together and it just slips out? and she gets all embarrassed about it but leo thinks it’s quite cute and he already mentally adopted her anyways??

(i hope this made sense!! i’m just soft for platonic relationships and the suitors being family figures for mc and leo just seems like such solid father material)

Truth be told Anon, when I first received this request I (out loud) went “yes, yes, yes, YESSSS" or something similar to that but you get the idea I was excited to write it.

And don’t worry, your request makes perfect sense! I just hope that I was able to fulfill it to your liking T_T (and I totally agree, Leo is father material)

Hopefully you enjoy this, if not you can always come back and ask again! This is my first time writing Leo so I’m sorry if he’s OOC at all...

Note: I used an the Italian term topolina in this, which, from my research, is a term of endearment that translates to ‘little mouse’

~~~

“Thanks Dad” {Leonardo x Platonic!Teen!MC/Reader}

Leonardo da Vinci’s room is a mess, that’s a given, but it was peaceful - quiet, a space one could immerse themselves in with a hobby as a form of pass time. In a way, his room was like a library when the silent rule is followed to a T.

And it was here that she could construct with a clear mind, no honking of cars nor sounds of people from outside whatsoever. It was heaven for an aspiring architect like herself.

“Just like that, easy now...” he murmured, watching with hawk-like eyes from the sidelines as the girl worked independently, putting the skills he’s taught her the past two weeks into practice. At the beginning of this little project they were working together, but about halfway through Leonardo fell asleep...

Carefully, strategically, the teen applied the last wood piece, completely the couple hour long build.

Taking a step back to stand beside him, she waits with bated breath, like the slightest change in wind could cause it to crumble. Yet when it held strong, a bright smile split across her face, Leonardo mirroring it with one of his own.

“Brava topolina, you’ve done it. On your own too” he chuckled, mussing up her hair playfully. She rolled her eyes, gently brushing his hand off her head. In no way though did that stop him from wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug.

“You helped, remember? We started the plane model together...” she reminded him.

“Maybe so, but you did most of the work and finished it. That’s worth something, you did good kid.” his praise caused her eyes to widen, his tone holding the warmest note that he’s ever used toward her since her arrival. All the other times where he’s recommended books on topics she’s interested in, when he taught her certain trades or brought her out to town pale in comparison to this very moment of bonding.

As she turned her gaze at the subject of their shared work, something they technically did together, a pleasant feeling filled her heart. Quietly, she whispered her thanks.

“...thanks dad, that... means a lot to me...”

There was a beat of silence before the severity of her words sank in, and a panicked expression morphed onto her face. ‘I did not just say that!?’. Leo’s brows rose in surprise as well, he too never expecting to be called dad, before returning to the usual calmness of his.

It’s true that the appearance of this girl from the future was a strange and different experience to him, a whole new world in some way. Yes, while in the past he’s gotten close to mortals of all kinds, adults, children and teens just like her, none of them could connect on a special level like this. There was never someone who he could just click with when it comes to sharing a hobby or two. Someone he could pass his vast knowledge of information down to to add to their own.

When she came along though she became exactly that person he was lacking in his life. She was the perfect mix of educated while still having room to grow and learn.

And yet he never could find an explanation as to why exactly he felt that way with her. What made her different from the others?

“Sorry, I, um, I didn’t mean-” she stuttered, so embarrassed she felt like she was overheating. Despite everything though, he didn't mind, and the master of all trades kept their wholesome hug going.

“Kinda like the sound of that...” he chuckled, gazing down at her.

“O-oh... can I... uh, keep calling you that?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Now, what do you want to build next?”

Maybe that was the answer - that the relationship they’ve built was akin to familial, she was someone he allowed to be just a little closer than anyone else. Why? Maybe because she knew the secret of the mansion, that he and the resident’s aren’t human, leading him to feel like he doesn’t have to hold anything back, that he can be himself.

And that alone allowed him to feel just a little bit alive again.

The thought itself kept the smile on his face as he watched her look for another kit to construct, and it crossed his mind that he’d do literally anything to keep her safe with a happy look on her face like she has now.

Anything at all...

…

…Bonus...

“You really are a papà now, huh, Leonardo?” Comte smiled, a teasing look in his eye.

“Quiet ‘Comte’”

~~~

As of me posting this, requests are open [check my bio though to be sure]! Don’t forget to check the rules too for the fandoms/topics I write for (which are linked in my masterlist)!

Masterlist

249 notes · View notes

pseudofaux · 2 years

Note

Could I please request a ~saucy~ Drabble? If you’d be into it of course! I’d like a jealous dom!Comte, more of a soft jealous than a mean one??? Perhaps he caught Vlad or Shakespeare (or someone else entirely) flirting with MC and he wants to remind her that he’s the one for her. Thanks 🥺

Ohohohoho :} You got me right in the sweet spot, absolute bullseye, I am very into this!!! I hope you see it and enjoy! And I hope you love his route if you’ve been playing it. ♥️ I’m going to not use [spoiler] that comes up in his route, since it’s still pretty new as canon for the English-reading fandom, but in a couple months or if this goes up on Ao3 I’ll probably edit it in for flow.

(Requests are closed, I am working to complete asks I received earlier this year. I will post a masterlist when they are all up. Just 11 left after this one!)

He likes to cage you in with his body, against walls and furniture and even the topiaries of the garden and the trees of the forested grounds of the mansion. And you like him to do it. He always leaves space like the open door of a birdcage for you to escape, and you never take it. You hope he understands that when you gather up the slack of his coat behind his shoulders, you are shutting that door with you still inside.

Other people are still attractive to you, but your eyes view them as pretty or interesting in the way that art is something you want to look at. Comte is the only one you desire. He fills you up with his love and his body so thoroughly and well there’s just no point to anyone else. The satisfaction he provides is exactly enough.

That’s one of your secrets, that you are so satisfied. He doesn’t love you in any way you don’t want, or in any way that feels like too much. You don’t need more, you don’t want less. You don’t mind the presents as long as they are deliberate and accompanied by his time and touch.

One of his secrets is that he is a jealous man in his soft golden heart. You thought—perhaps you both thought— that because he has so many years of practice reasoning himself through flashes of possessiveness, he only knew the truth of his jealousy for what it was and confidently managed it. But now he has you bent back over the fine blue felt of the billiard table, and his look is much wilder than that of a man confidently managing anything. His grip on your wrists above your head and on your jaw are gentle, but inescapable. So perhaps there is no door today.

You still do not want one.

“That man,” he rasps, and his usual moonlight voice comes out not only rougher, but lower and angrier than you expected. You know you could never be safer than wherever he is, so your shudder is not from fear.

“Touched you,” he continues, “And was clever enough to make you laugh, and I wanted…”

He sighs, and his frown etches deeper, like a beautiful woodcut. It moves his eyes out of the light, so there is no reflection in their ever-glowing gold. It would be eerie if you did not love him so well. You can’t put your arms around him to grab the slack behind his shoulders, but you can curl your fingers town to touch the hand that holds your wrists.

“You wanted…?”

“You, chérie,” he confesses. “Away from him, with me instead. Among my clocks instead of his roses.”

“But I love the roses here,” you whisper. “Because they are yours.”

He swallows a response so strongly that his head tilts and the muscles in his jaw and nostrils flex, a beast in a suit and coat. And then the hand on your face slips under your neck with the achingly tender care you recognize from every day since you told him you were staying with him, and the hand holding your wrist slides up to lace his fingers with yours, tight as the back of your favorite gown. He doesn’t attempt to say whatever he swallowed down, but he looses a near-silent snarl before his mouth is on yours, warm and insistent.

Does his tongue map out the back of your top teeth more thoroughly than usual? You are a little too caught up in kissing him back and finding your grip at the back of his shoulders to be sure. His thumb is stroking the curve of your head behind your ear, pressing just hard enough that you know your own skull. It’s a heady thing, for two people beyond human mortality to live in human bodies.

When you are just about to moan from the feel of him pressed against you so fully, shamelessly and fiercely hard, he gathers you up and stands, taking you onto your feet with him. Then he scoops you up beneath your knees and holds you to his chest and whispers, “Let’s go see our roses, then.”

His way there is a blur of kisses and murmurs of “mine,” and he is not the only one who says that important word. You did not dangle yourself with Vlad in front of him, you would not push the man you love like that. But you will not let him think you do not own his heart the way he owns yours. And you think perhaps it will make all this time you are about to spend among the roses even more pleasant if he is soothed and worked up all at once, and you know no better way than to make the claim you d.

He tells you to hold on tight as he stops by one of the grassy clearings off the garden path, the one nearly ringed in by blooms of cream and scarlet. You do as he says, happy to use your arms around his neck to press your body closer as he releases your back but keeps up your knees. The flowers grow in fragrant profusion here, solid colors and streaked petals, and in the dusk they look like angels leaned down from the clouds and painted each flower with a divine brush.

He pulls off his coat and throws it wide onto the lushness of the grass. Then his arm comes back around you, and he kneels and sets you down onto the silk lining of his jacket like you are a queen he serves. When you are seated, he stays close and does not let you go.

“Here are our roses,” he whispers. You nod against his shoulder, enjoying the honey and pepper scent of his cologne and the closeness of his warmth in the gentle chill of the evening.

“I will plant more if you want them,” he says, and it is insistent and yearning-- the sweet fool is trying to win you over.

You shake your head against his shoulder. And you gently stroke the hair at the back of his neck and say “Let’s just keep these. These are beautiful, and they are plenty.”

His fingers stroke down the bare back of your neck with a touch softer than petals. “I want you to have everything you need,” he presses.

“I do,” you tell him simply, and turn your head so you can press right back with a kiss.

He kisses you, but he says, “I want you to want for nothing,” right against your mouth, and you can tell he is getting frantic again.

“Well,” you smile. “I do want.”

His breath, which never left its calm meter when he carried you here, speeds up, passionate and noisy since you are so close. “What can I give you?” he begs, nearly panting.

“Love,” you whisper sweetly.

His kiss is as deep and necessary as the sea, and it steals your breath to make you match him in his panting, but you give it gladly.

“I will take you to bed when I am finished trying,” he promises as he guides your back down to the silk of his coat. “But for now...”

The jacket over the grass beneath you feels like it will keep you afloat no matter how deeply he is about to fuck you into the ground. “Make me love your roses the most,” you say with a smile, reaching for him.

He does. Your satisfaction soars with your voice, up towards the nighttime clouds, and gives your gratitude to the angels.

When you open your eyes the next morning, you are on the softness of the bed you share. There are three long stems crowned by roses on his pillow, tied together with a ribbon of golden silk. Your way into wakefulness smells like roses, and honey, and pepper.

How could you ever want anyone else?

#ikevamp fanfiction #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam fanfiction #ikevamp comte #ikevam comte #ikemen vampire #pseu slings

210 notes · View notes

shookspearewrites · 2 years

Text

Good evening my ducklings! As you may know, I have been taking writing commissions lately (I still have 2 slots open if you’re interested - Just PM me!) and I had the absolute joy of writing for @catherinec35 and I thought I’d share it with y’all~ 💛

I hope you enjoy it, I did have an absolute blast writing it ^^

Warning: Contains explicit content of a sexual nature. Do not read if you are under the age of 18 or if you could be uncomfortable with such content. (Minors DNI)

Tagging @scummy-writes and @crystal13unny because they asked to be tagged, if you ever wanted to be tagged in my works, please just let me know ^^

- JJ x

___________

Theodorus van Gogh x Kathryn (OC) x Isaac Newton:

With every step she took, Kathryn turned heads at the lavish party she and her boyfriend Theodorus had been invited to. A far cry from her regular casual and comfortable attire, she was dolled up to the nines with absolutely no expense spared on Theo’s part to make his woman feel like a princess; A maroon velvet cocktail dress hugged her delectable figure, the off-the-shoulder straps framing her shoulders and collar bones so beautifully Theo swore she could be a painting. Kathryn’s hair, just a shade slightly more purple than her dress, was curled in neat ringlets and her face had been painted by a makeup artist - that Theo had insisted he hire for her - to highlight and accentuate her beautiful natural features. Although stunningly beautiful, the young lady felt a little out of place at such a fancy event without her lover to cling to as he was too busy speaking with clients. Her heart sank a measure when she reminisced on parties of the past in which Theo had drunk a little too much champagne and ended up escorting her to a quiet corner to lay his heart, and his body, bare to her.

Kathryn smiled smally as she sipped her champagne, more bubbles than flavour, hovering just behind her boyfriend who liaised with some fancy client in a suit who she didn’t particularly care to listen to, only drawn from her thoughts by Theo’s hushed voice in her ear, “Schatje, I’m a little busy,” cool Caribbean blue eyes flitted between his lover and the balcony, “Go and get some fresh air. You’ll have my attention in just a minute.”

“Okay,” she sighed a little dejectedly in response, her heels clicking against the fine marble floor until she reached the balcony, her heart dropping in her chest as she leant on the railing and gazed out at the perfect Parisian night sky. Kathryn clasped her delicate hands around her champagne flute, shifting her feet a little where she stood as the cool breeze hit the leg exposed by the high slit of her dress. The single blonde streak of the lady’s hair fell from its curl and in front of her face so it tickled her nose, making her chuckle pitifully at herself quietly.

“May I fix that for you, Miss?” A gentle, lilting voice almost sung by Kathryn’s ear. Turning around, she realised it was Arthur, her boyfriend's best friend, who reached out a gloved hand to fix the stray hair that hung out of place, "There we go, luv."

“Hey, Arthur,” her voice was confined to a small sigh, a mixture of sadness and relief, as she glanced up at her friend, “At least you’re here. Theo’s been too busy to even acknowledge me tonight.”

“Heartless bastard, leaving a beautiful woman lonely when she’s all dolled up for him,” he slipped off the black glove from his right hand and reached towards Kathryn, caressing the soft line of her jaw before leaning forward to whisper in her ear, “A foolish bastard too.” Kathryn tried to step back slightly from Arthur’s touch only to find herself backed against an ornate marble pillar, “Why don’t you let me entertain you tonight, my dove?”

“Hands off of her, Arthur,” Theo’s voice entered the space, commanding the air with his tone whilst the fine suit he wore was overshadowed by his scowl. The Dutchman reached out to grasp his girlfriend’s wrist, “Come on, hondje, let’s go-”

Smack. Her hand came down hard against his own wrist, making the art dealer pull back slightly in shock, his heart aching with a cocktail of anger, regret and jealousy as he observed the look of indignance that Kathryn wore. “Don’t pretend like you care all of a sudden Theo,” she spat, pushing past him to leave the party in a fit of rage and rushing out of his sight. Kathryn was still in tears when she reached the mansion, her chest tight and heart strings pulled to breaking when she pushed past Vincent in a flood of sorrow, like a moody cloud was hung above her head. Tears stained her reddened cheeks and the artist knew better than to pry so rather than console her himself, he rushed to find the only man that could.

“What do you want?” Isaac sighed tiredly, leaning against the doorframe as he observed Vincent’s anxiously shaken form through his glasses.

“Kathryn’s just come home and she looks very upset, I think she needs you.” Vincent smiled sympathetically at Isaac who nodded curtly and pulled his door closed behind him,

“Cheers,” he spoke quietly, pushing up his glasses before briskly walking through the halls towards his beloved’s room. Isaac’s throat felt tight and dry as he stood in front of Kathryn’s door, listening to her sniffle and sob, her sad little noises like a stab to his heart, “Kathryn?” He knocked on the door, opening it just a sliver to peek inside, “It’s Isaac, I’m coming in.” The second he was in the room, Isaac’s heart sank: Kathryn lay face down, her pretty face in her pillows which muffled her pained sobs. She should’ve felt like an angel in her stunning evening gown with her hair perfectly made up, not despairing as she was. “Oh, sweetheart.” The vampire sat down beside the young lady and stroked her hair, shooting her a small smile when she turned her face to look right at him, “Was the party really that bad?”

“T-Theo and I,” she sniffled, rolling over fully to tuck herself into Isaac’s warm embrace, comforted by his touch, “W-we had a fight.” Isaac tightened his arms around Kathryn, grateful to provide her some sense of safety and comfort when she nuzzled against his chest. She lifted her gaze to glance at Isaac, chuckling pitifully at herself before she spoke again, “Will you stay and cuddle me til I feel better?”

Isaac smiled sweetly at Kathryn, nodding in confirmation though, confusion plastered on his face when she removed herself from his embrace and wandered over to her vanity, “I can’t very well cuddle you if you’re all the way over there.” He watched his enchanting girlfriend slip out of her cocktail dress and wipe away her smudged makeup, admittedly making his trousers feel a little too tight around his crotch as he took in her lingerie-clad form. Kathryn’s flawless skin glowed in the faint moonlight, her smooth curves accentuated by a lacy crimson bra with a matching thong and garters, the colour reminding Isaac of the irresistible blood that pumped underneath her soft skin. “You wore those just for Theo?” He knew that his partners both had their nights alone together, much as he did with the both of them, but he couldn’t help the slight twinge of jealousy that stained his heart, “I do love him but by God he is an ass, and an idiot, leaving you on your lonesome when you look so ravishing.” Isaac stood up from his seat on the bed and crossed the room to Kathryn, taking a hold of her hips and pulling her flush against his own body, so close that she could feel the hardness laying in his trousers, “You’re irresistible.”

Feeling an unfamiliar rush of confidence fill her veins, Kathryn tangled her fingers in Isaac’s dusty pink hair and pulled at it, smirking at the needy whine that escaped his lips before whispering seductively in his ear, “Then don’t resist, Isaac. Take me.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Isaac pushed his girlfriend to sit down on her vanity and crashed his lips against hers, snogging her messily as his yearning hands slid down her sides to grasp at her plush thighs and push them apart, grinding his clothed erection against her dampening slit. The couple were so preoccupied with each other’s burning desire that neither of them noticed the soft creak of the bedroom door opening or the entrance of their boyfriend until he spoke, “Well I did come to apologise but, seems like you’re busy, hondje.”

Kathryn gasped softly, her cheeks flushing peach with embarrassment as she locked eyes with Theodorus from across the room, though before the Dutchman could leave, Isaac turned to face him, his voice low and husky, “Why don’t you join in? I think our darling needs some extra attention tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” The taller vampire shut the door behind himself and quickly stripped down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a messy pile on the floor before kneeling on the bed and beckoning to his lovers who both obediently rid themselves of their clothes and joined him there. Isaac lay himself down and coaxed Kathryn to hover above his face, blush staining his cheeks pink at the sight of the glistening arousal covering her sex.

Kathryn felt a flame of shyness flicker in her belly when Isaac brought her down onto his mouth, whimpering delightfully when his tongue circled her clit. The Englishman himself groaned softly at the taste of her sweetness, capable hands grasping at her plush thighs which squeezed against his cheeks as smug pride swelled in his chest. Theodorus leant over Kathryn’s small frame, biting kisses down his girlfriend’s neck, the scrape of his fangs against her delicate skin fanning the flames of arousal in Kathryn’s core which only provided more slickness between her legs that Isaac greedily lapped up. She could hear Theo’s thick Dutch accent in her ear, praising her as she rolled her hips and ground down against Isaac’s mouth, “Good girl, Kathryn.” Her thighs tensed and squeezed around her British boyfriend’s head, bringing more heat to his cheeks and making his peony pink eyes roll back in pleasure when she came messily undone all over his tongue, her nectar dripping down his chin. The three moved seamlessly to a more comfortable position, with Theo holding himself above Kathryn and Isaac wandering toward the desk to clean his face.

“I n-need you in me,” Kathryn panted, the aftershock of her first orgasm hitting her body in waves as lust darkened her vision, her gaze trained onto Theo, “Please.”

“Don’t make her beg, Theo,” Isaac warned softly, wiping the slick that soaked his chin away with a pristine white handkerchief, “Not tonight.” The brilliant scientist smiled carefully as he strolled back over to the bed and sat beside his girlfriend’s head, reaching out to stroke her curled hair gently away from her flushed face, “My princess needs to be treated as such.” Kathryn blushed brightly at Isaac’s tender nickname for her, smiling almost smugly when Theo pressed an uncharacteristically soft kiss against her cheek.

“Oké, but after tonight,” Theo’s left index finger hooked underneath her choker and tugged at it a little roughly, his voice a low growl when he continued, “Master isn’t going to go easy on either of you.” He shot his icy blue gaze at his boyfriend who gulped in excited anticipation, Isaac’s mind replaying countless nights of Theo roughly using his tight hole and rewarding him with intoxicating blowjobs when he thought he couldn’t handle any more. Theo discarded his underwear and carefully lined his impressively hard cock up to Kathryn’s inviting little hole, slowly pushing himself inside and groaning deeply at the way she squeezed around his length, “Fuck, baby.” The Dutchman grinned down at his girlfriend whose small hands grasped onto his broad shoulders, her eyes already filled with stars even though he hadn’t even begun to fuck her yet, “Always so tight for me, aren’t you? ‘S like your pretty little pussy was made just for me.”

Theo thrust his hips forward, the drag of his thick cock against her silky wet walls slow, hard and deliberate, tearing a delightfully sweet moan from Kathryn’s throat which made both of her boyfriends grin slyly at each other, “Is that good, darling?” Isaac cooed into her ear, tangling his left hand in her now messy mauve hair and pulling sharply, “Tell Theo how good he makes you feel.”

“A-ah,” Kathryn whined with pleasure, her sounds mingling with Theodorus’ own sinful groans and the gentle shudders of Isaac who had begun to slowly stroke himself by her side, “You fuck me so good-” she gasped sharply when Theo’s cock slid further into her tight cunt, bruising her cervix as he began to thrust into her faster and harder than before. The lady couldn’t make any coherent thought or sentence as her lover repeatedly hit against her g-spot, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he began to feel his climax quickly approaching. Isaac snaked his left hand between their bodies to rub tight, mind-numbingly pleasurable circles into Kathryn’s clit, making her walls hug Theo’s dick even tighter as a second orgasm came flooding over her, her moans surely heard throughout the mansion.

“Godverdomme,” Theo’s hips stuttered as he came, hot and sticky inside Kathryn's walls. He panted, taking a moment to catch his breath before pulling out and turning his gaze over to Isaac whose cock was still in his hand, pumping it quickly to try and chase his own release. The younger vampire pressed a kiss to his girlfriend’s nose, her piercing cold against his lips before he knelt himself down in front of Isaac and firmly grasped his erection, “I’ll finish you off.” Theo swiftly took Isaac in his mouth and hollowed his cheeks, only needing to suck on his cock a handful of times before the physicist moaned his name loudly and spilled his cum down his boyfriend’s throat. Both men, sweaty and spent, lay down in bed and wrapped their arms around Kathryn, with Isaac spooning her and Theo having tucked her head under his chin.

None of them could keep from smirking to themselves as they snuggled up together, the comfortable silence eventually being broken by Kathryn who sighed blissfully, “You boys are so good to me.”

“You deserve it.” Isaac craned his head forward to kiss her jaw carefully while one of his hands drew soft circles against her thigh.

Theo agreed, his voice gruff and resigned, “You both deserve a lot more than me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Theo.” Kathryn responded, sitting herself up and caressing the art dealer’s cheek, gazing down at him with a smile that could outshine the stars, “I love you, you big idiot.”

“As do I,” Isaac added, also having sat up, “We want you the way you are, even though you are often irrational, brash and thick.” The Englishman stood up and sauntered over to the wardrobe, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his naked body, “Come, let's all go and have a bath.”

“Mhm, that’d be nice.” Kathryn nodded as she got up from the bed and joined Isaac who handed her a towel of her own.

“Ja, oké,” Theo’s small smile widened to a grin when his lovers threw a towel at him, the white cotton hitting him in the chest with a dull thud, “I can’t say no to you two, anyway.”

55 notes · View notes

candied-boys · 6 months

Text

Catboy Charles x F! Reader - Part 8

Tags: shameless smut

Part 7

You had always assumed that even if animals were sentient, instinct was what drove their actions - not conscious thoughts and desires. To know just how attached Charles has been to you since the beginning, that to him you've always been more than just the hand that feeds, is both difficult to reconcile with what you have engrained and yet unexpectedly relieving.

It's clear now that his immediate profession of love the moment he could communicate was so much more than just a string of words he picked up while he sat in your lap watching movies. Day by day, this understanding sinks deeper into the cracks of your heart and colours his actions with sincerity. Even if his fear of abandonment twists his love, it changes neither whom Charles loves nor how deeply.

He continues to do his best to take care of you, and ironically this has meant less chores and failed cooking attempts and more of what you used to do together when he was a cat - cuddle in bed and read a book, snuggle on the sofa and binge Netflix, pet him and tell him all about your day, tease him and tickle him and tell him how cute he is, or knit while he unravels the yarn across the living room.

“You didn't shower today, ma maîtresse,” he whispers into your hair as he cuddles up to you beneath the covers tonight.

“Mmm, I'm too lazy.”

“You didn't shower yesterday either,” he purrs.

“I'm tired. I'll do it tomorrow. I swear.”

You probably promised the same thing last night, but it's been a long week and sometimes self-care is just one more task than you can manage at the end of the day.

After a satisfied giggle, he pulls your back into his chest and whispers, “Don't worry. I'll take care of you, ma maîtresse.”

Before you can even ask, you feel something rough and warm run up the length of your neck. The familiar sandpaper like sound of cat tongue on skin next to your ear clues you in faster than the texture itself.

“Charles!? Are you licking me?!” you half shriek.

“You're too tired to groom yourself, so I'll do it for you.” His tone is jovial, almost thrilled.

“I'm fine! I swear I'll shower first thing tomorrow morning!” But your protests fall on deaf ears.

“I'm very good at this. Just let me look after you, please?” Propping himself up on his elbow and peering over from behind your shoulder, he gives you his most pleading look.

“I'm not a cat, Charles! I don't need to be licked clean!”

“But this is how cats show affection and I want to take care of you… You work so hard at your job all day, and then come home and cook for me and play with me. Grooming you is the least I can do…”

If you thought his eyes couldn't possibly get rounder, you were sorely mistaken.

Too exhausted to protest, he interprets your silence as acceptance and returns to where he left off.

You end up obediently lying still and half waiting for it to feel awful, but the way he licks stripes from the collar of your t-shirt up to the base of your skull is a strangely pleasant sensation. It feels similar to a small washcloth, the warm kind you receive before meals at fancy restaurants. Even more curious is that it leaves no scent. Granted he isn't a puppy boy, so you weren't expecting dog breath, and he did brush his teeth with you before bed, but still it's odd.

If it weren't for the way your spine tingles when he licks each untouched area for the first time, it might very well be relaxing enough to put you to sleep. But, the sparks dancing across your skin keep you wide awake, intensifying as he moves to licking your ears gently.

“Ma maîtresse, stop squirming. You're as bad as a kitten,” Charles scolds and reaches around to grab your chin from behind and keep you still.

“But, it… tickles,” you squeak and twitch.

You know that's the wrong word, but you don't know how else to describe the way it steals your breath and makes you jump. The sound of his calm breathing, the echo of his rough tastebuds, the curl of his tongue as he teases unexplored depths - each sensation has you fisting the sheets tighter and tighter.

“Roll over, please. On your back now,” he purrs next to your ear, straddling your hips as you obey helplessly under the pull of his hands.

Drawing stripes up your throat he continues his task, eventually beginning to wash your face too.

Clicking his tongue, he mumbles, “You’re worse than a newborn litter, tossing and turning like this. Stay put.”

With that he grabs the back of your neck, as if there should be scruff there he could hold you by, and pins your wrists above your head with his other. Held fast in all directions, escape becomes impossible and you suddenly realize just how strong he is.

When he's satisfied, he turns your face away from him and takes to your other ear. This time it really doesn't tickle. The sensation is overwhelming, as if the sparks have multiplied into an electric current. Unable to move, your muscles wind with tension until you're trembling. Breathing shallow enough to make you dizzy, your mind can't collect the words to make him stop either.

The more you quiver the harder he instinctively presses you into the bed and the tighter the coil winds. You can hardly get the first syllable of his name past your lips before you're coming hard around nothing, hips rolling into his and back arching off the bed.

Unrelenting he continues to tease the shell of your ear even as you spasm beneath him. Voice lower than usual he murmurs there, “You mewl just like a pretty little kitty too, ma maîtresse. How am I supposed to groom you when you shake so much? I've hardly started.”

Feeling his grip on your neck loosen, you turn your head to find his moonstone gaze. Though his words imply little more than annoyance, his eyes are tainted with lust and a more delicate emotion - heartache.

A few weeks ago you came home from work to the sugary sweet sounds of your name on his tongue again. More than a month had already passed since the first time you had listened to him beg for you to accept his love while he touched himself.

“I want to look after you, but I can't if you tempt me like this… The air is drenched in your pheromones… I can smell you're in heat… It's taking everything in me not to breed you…”

This time when he came out of your room, he moved immediately to your side. “You're home from work early, ma maîtresse!” he purred and clung to your waist from behind.

Humming the affirmative you chugged the rest of your glass of water with a silent prayer to cool down.

The moment you put the glass down and turned to meet his gaze, you knew he knew. His ears twitched and his eyes sparkled. The joy that arched his pretty lips only made your skin feel hotter.

“Finally, I can take care of you. I'll make you feel better, ma maîtresse. Don't worry,” he purred as he sunk to his knees.

“What?!” you squeaked at the unexpected string of words.

“You're in heat,” he answered easily, round eyes looking up into yours with excitement.

“I am not!” you protested in vain before he slipped off your bottoms and underwear in one movement.

“Yes, you are,” he answered, pulling a thread of your essence out with his finger.

“That isn't! I'm not! It doesn't matter! Just get up!!!”

“But it's frustrating, isn't it? It's been months since you were with a man and you don't even play with your toys alone anymore.”

“That's because you're here!! But nevermind that! I'm fine! I'll be fine! Just get up off the floor!!”

“But I love you, and I want you to love me more, so I want to make you feel good too!” he begged with upturned brows and droopy tail as he drew circles with his thumbs on your thighs.

“No, we can't do this, Charles!”

“We can. I've watched you plenty of times. I know what you like, and our anatomy is compatible,” he countered quickly, tilting his lavender tresses to one side.

“WAIT?! YOU WHAT?! Wait no! I mean we shouldn't! We really shouldn't!!”

“Why not?” he pouted.

“Because we just shouldn't, Charles…”

“We shouldn't love each other?” he asked, looking obviously hurt.

Lost for words, you held his gaze for what felt like a whole day and night as you tried to work through the tangle of emotions within.

“We can love each other… Just maybe not like this… Not yet anyway…”

“Then when, ma maîtresse? When can I love you as deeply as I long to? When can I love you with my whole being?”

Since then, the worries that had been plaguing you gradually began to subside as each day you consciously tried to resume the habits you locked away the moment he turned human. One by one, you started tearing down the walls you've been hiding behind - letting yourself be with him the way you used to.

Somewhere along the way you started to understand that your worries had never been about whether he'd make a good partner; rather you'd been afraid of giving up control - terrified that if you crossed that line, you wouldn't be able to go on without him.

“Minou, I can't keep lying to myself and saying no to you. I want to be with you. Just please… don't let go… Don't take my heart and leave me behind…”

Yet, by being beside one another while forcing him to crush his own heart, you risked destroying his very essence and all that you love about him. Losing his affection either to him returning to a cat or to the inevitable fate that awaits all humans would surely be less painful than losing his love because you killed it.

Pale blue eyes contrast against the dark ceiling as they glimmer with heartache.

“Ma maîtresse, I don't understand what you mean. I am with you, and I would never leave… unless you want me to…”

The haze of afterglow still clouds your vision as you plead, “No. Not just with me. I want you to be completely mine in every way. Please, Charles, make me yours too. Not as your master - as your equal. As your lover…”

“Not maîtresse but lover…?” he repeats, confusion distorting his exquisite features. “Do you mean like a mate?”

“Yes. Yours and yours alone.”

The hand pinning your wrists to the bed cinches tighter while the other cups your cheek tenderly.

“Mine?” he breathes, shoulders shivering in the glow of the street lights outside. “Do you mean you'll never give your body or affection to another again?”

As you nod under his palm, he asks once more, “You'll really let me love you? You'll really be mine alone?”

“You can have all of me. As much as you want. I love you, Charles. I only want you.”

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you?”

“Mhmm,” you hum softly before he leans down to touch his nose to yours.

Up close you can feel the heat on his cheeks and see the shyness in the way his long lashes cast shadows across his pale blue eyes.

“I know what you like… but I've never done any of it… Will you… change your mind if I do it wrong?”

“No, Minou. I'm never going to change my mind no matter what you do or don't do. I'm not letting you go. I want to be with you forever. So please, make me irreversibly yours?”

A gentle curve tugs his pretty lips into your favourite arc just as they nudge against yours for the first time. Eyes wide-open and drowning in one another, the kiss gradually melts into more fervent demands.

You would never believe it's his first kiss if you didn't know he was but an affectionate furball mere months ago. The way his lips meet yours perfectly again and again, breaking momentarily and adjusting to sink his tongue deeper into your mouth clouds your head with a haze of pleasure once more - thick like fog this time for the remnants of the high he just inflicted.

Unconsciously releasing your wrists his hands find their way around your waist and under your back to hold you closer. His fingers dig into your flesh the same way his paws used to knead your lap contentedly. Still straddling your hips, his tail flicks back and forth over your bare thighs and makes your toes curl.

Just as desperate as you are to have him claim you, there's a part of you that yearns to make him yours, to see him melt under your touch, to make his heart race with ecstasy. Whispering his name, you steal his attention for a moment long enough to roll him beneath you.

His ears perk and his eyes widen as you gaze down over him. He's been so focused on making you happy since the little stray alley cat came to live with you. Although you play with him and pet him and look after all his basic needs, you've never focused solely on his pleasure. Just the curiosity to know how he'll respond to your touch piques your desire.

Bright eyes watch as you trace your thumb over his brow, across his cheekbone, down the bridge of his nose, and along the outline of his bottom lip. A lingering kiss ends in a whine as you pull away once more, letting your mouth wander the curve of his jaw, the dip beneath where his ear should be, and down his neck.

You can feel the rise and fall of his chest quicken and the grip of his hands tighten where he kneads your hips. It doesn't take much to find the most sensitive spot. His sweet little gasps and mewls entice you to dredge up bruises beneath his marble skin until both sides of his neck are dappled with affection.

When you dare to meet his gaze once more you find his eyes are watery with pleasure, silently pleading for more attention. Delighted to oblige, you let your tongue wander its way down his collarbone and across his torso. The sugary sounds of his needy voice fade enough to tell you his chest isn't particularly sensitive, but you do notice he flinches everytime your t-shirt skims his hips.

Sneaking your fingertips under the waist of his boxers makes him bite his lip and tremble. Whether it's due to the anticipation of the final goal or something else, you aim to discover and tug the band down just enough to reveal his hipbones but not enough to let his cock free.

You begin by teasing his tummy with the back of your knuckles, tracing nonsense shapes across his abs and watching him shiver. Following the thin peach fuzz there, you trail kisses lower and lower, carefully noting what each does to him. The deep V that frames each side of his waist tempts your tongue, and you immediately find that it is this which ruins him fastest.

Every stripe you lick up the well-defined muscles winds the tension in his body tighter and tighter until the enchanting breaths seeping from his lips turn into whimpers and his hands desperately clasp at the shoulders of your thin shirt. When you pause to admire your work, you notice the needy colour wetting the fabric of his briefs and smile in satisfaction.

“Feel good, Minou?” you query while brushing his long bangs out of his eyes.

“Please… please, can I touch you again? Please? If you keep going I don't think I can control myself…”

Whispering a kiss against his cheek you answer, “You don't need to hold back, Charles.”

The next second you find yourself pinned under him once more, a feral glint in his eyes where he stares down at you. This wasn't what you meant by letting go, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't like this new side of him.

“Take it off. Take it all off,” he orders you for the first time.

You oblige willingly and watch as he does the same before returning to hold you close and feel your skin on his for the second time since the day he turned boy. He lingers, kissing you deeply again, and finally letting his hands wander the expanse of your body. His nails run the length of your side like claws while his tongue explores everything he has yet to taste.

Gradually working his way down your chest and stomach, he pauses here and there when he finds a spot that makes you squirm. As he continues lower and lower he doesn't hesitate to sink between your legs — just like that afternoon he sunk to his knees while he told you he had watched you do it all and already knew what you liked. Now you know he wasn't bluffing when he said that.

Immediately his mouth has your back arching off the bed. You aren't sure whether it's the novel texture of his tongue or the fact that he wastes no time prodding around and instead goes straight for your clit, but each new lick has you tipping closer and closer to freefall.

Already sensitive from the orgasm he drew out of you while grooming, it's hardly another minute before you're coming undone on his mouth. Purring loudly he eagerly laps up everything you give him, overstimulating you in the process. Merciless, he rather seems to enjoy your pathetic whimpers and the way your body continues to shake in his arms.

“I want more. Give me more,” he growls when you finally calm down and murmurs of his name are all that fills the room.

You nod desperately but he doesn't move from between your legs as you expected. Instead he slips his middle finger into your slick depths and quickly locates the spot that makes you see stars. With your breath hitching and your eyes watering, you're soon bucking against his hand and begging him for another finger.

Two and then three, his slender digits fill you up and curl into you perfectly as if he'd envisioned himself pleasuring you like this a hundred of times. When his mouth joins again and covers your clit, the tension wracks every corner of your body and leaves you crying out in ecstasy. He's relentless, continuing even as you shake violently.

Charles climbs up over your still trembling form, licking his fingers clean as he appreciates his disheveled masterpiece. When you finally recover enough to meet his moonstone gaze, you find his eyes have softened from earlier — the ferocious desperation satiated and replaced by overwhelming affection.

Kneading one of your hips under his palm where he sits between your legs he asks gently, “Can we mate? Do you need more first? I… I want to breed you so badly. I feel like I might go crazy if I wait any longer…”

Stretching out your arms, you coax him down into your embrace. His kiss has lost the curiosity from earlier, instead imparting a deep yearning to be together. With an instructive touch you get him to raise his himself up enough for you to take hold of his length. Adjusting your hips and lining him up, you guide him into your honeyed core.

Perhaps from inexperience or perhaps from eagerness he pushes into the hilt in one movement. He isn't the biggest you've had, but after so many dry months his pretty cock feels incredibly filling. Even more so as he immediately tugs your knees up into a mating press and slips deeper yet.

With your hands locked with his and your knees resting in the crooks of his elbows, he leans in hard until you're nose to nose. Velvet ears twitch with each slow roll of his hips, and you can tell that just the feeling of being inside you is overwhelming him by the way his glassy eyes get lost in yours. From parted lips escape needy breaths, hot and humid on your exposed skin.

You can't help but flutter around him with every gentle thrust he makes. At this angle he's rubbing against so many sweet spots at once that you can hardly hold back your voice. The swollen tip of his cock nudges into the valley around your cervix over and over while his pelvic bone grinds into your clit. If he went any faster you would probably fall apart, but you can tell he wants to savour this just as much as you do.

“Am I making you happy? Do you still love me?” he breathes between little pecks.

“Do you feel loved?”

“I think so, but it feels different than when you usually take care of me… It's less warm and fuzzy… More… dizzying?”

“Like you can't get enough even though your head is spinning?”

“Mhmm,” he purrs. “Makes me greedy. Makes me want to stay like this forever…”

“We will. We can do this every day if it makes you feel loved.”

His voice and eyes are shakey with trepidation as he asks, “You really mean it?”

With a smile and an eager hum you kiss him passionately, silently begging him to drown in you. When breathlessly you two break, tears have pooled in the corners of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he pleads, his eyes far louder than his hushed voice. “Show me how much you love me. Show me I'm the only one in your heart. Show me you want me…”

Between already being so sensitive, the way he drags his length in and out of you, and the needy tone he begs you with, you can't help but give into him. Releasing his hands, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his hips. His hands slip beneath your back to cradle you against him as he buries his face in your neck. He doesn't pick up speed though, continuing his torturous pace and teasing your dripping cunt until you can't take it.

“Please, Charles. Please breed me. Please fill me up. I need it,” you whine in his ear.

Desperately you snap your hips into his and almost as quickly lose control. The tension he's built up so gradually steals all conscious thought as it begins to shake you from the depths of your core.

“Take it. Take it. Take it. Take everything I give you and let me have all your love in return,” he growls back.

You cling to him as he pushes you over the edge with a few sudden pumps. Without even the wherewithal to say his name you begin to tremble and pulse around his cock, screaming in intense pleasure and then pain as he sinks his fangs into your shoulder out of instinct.

He fucks you harder as he bites down, letting the tension in his body finally unravel. You can feel the heat of him spilling his cum inside, and it shoves you into freefall again before you've even descended.

The high lasts longer than any you can ever recall, and you're left shaking and sobbing in his arms as he absolutely ruins you. Charles mewls while you milk him of every last drop, hips eventually stuttering against yours and his weight collapsing into you.

Chests heaving you lie there entwined together, hot skin against skin, sweat and sex and love thick in the air. And for once, no more words of reassurance are needed.

The end 💖 thanks for making it this far

Tag list: @loverofmanyrandomthings @misty-moth @cherryblubb @drachonia @nightghoul381 @fang-and-feather @uwu-lavender-uwu

#ikemen vampire charles #ikemen charles #ikevam charles #ikevamp charles #charles henri sanson #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic

33 notes · View notes