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faustianfascination · 27 days ago

Text

the tyrant's bell

Kinktober 10. Cockwarming | Face Fucking

Words: 1439 Pairing: Silvio x Emma (ikemen prince)

Tags: NSFW! MDNI! cockwarming, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, established relationship

Silvio decided to punish Emma by making her sit still during his trade negotiations with Nokto. Notes: I'm supposed to be finishing my fic for the predator prey prompt but this has idea has been stuck in my head. Oh well, who said Kinktober follows linear time.

Silvio's new desk was absurdly ostentatious, even for him. This great marble slab set upon golden, fish detailed legs seemed to have an almost dalmatian like pattern to suit his crest. Emma hated to think how much Silvio had spent on this, let alone how long he'd sent poor Carlo out to search for it. Her eyes kept drifting to the fish details on the legs, those weren't sapphires surely? Even her beloved gaudy tyrant wouldn't encrust his desk legs with sapphires right?

At this point she thought that nothing he could do would surprise her, but as if to mock her hubris she was currently using every once of self control to sit still on his lap as his cock was buried in her while he sat at his new ridiculous desk, negotiating with Nokto.

Her back leaning on his chest for support, his hand squeezing her hip as she sat on his lap, they looked all the part of a romantic couple who just wanted to be together. In reality Emma was reminding herself that she did in fact love Silvio, even if at this moment she wanted to throttle him. Her body had been like this before Nokto had arrived, some punishment or other he'd devised after getting jealous of her and Nokto dancing together at last nights ball. If only she'd not been so weary she'd fallen asleep before he'd gotten back; it had given him too much time to sulk. Truthfully, she'd been enjoying the punishment until Silvio not only invited Nokto in for tea, the two started negotiating and had been at it for what felt like forever.

Emma tried keeping her eyes on the desk, counting the spots to distract from how oversensitive and wanting her body was. Only to fail every time Silvio decided to shift in his chair just enough to stimulate her. He was doing this on purpose she thought. Trying to maintain what was left of her dignity she held on tighter to her tea cup, trying to avoid Nokto's eyes. Usually, she would be thrilled to have the chance to watch these two negotiate, seeing their insight and intelligence on display, learning about all the complexities of commerce but right now all she could think of was how much his girthy cock was stretching her, how much she wanted him to move as she was going mad. Occasionally she got her own back, clenching around him as tight as she could, enjoying the way his breath would hitch and the pinch on her hip telling her to knock it off. She could feel the puddle around Silvio's crotch from how long he'd held her like this and it was both erotic and uncomfortable. Her nipples was hard, every movement against the fabric of her slip and corset just adding to the sensations building up. She'd been here so long she could feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch and it was getting to the point she couldn't hold it together much longer. She took another sip of her now cold tea and put the cup back on the saucer with so much force that she swore she'd heard it crack. This unfortunately caused both men to look her way.

"You ok there Emma, you're looking a little flushed? This tyrant overworking you? Or did I charm you so much last night that you're considering returning to Rhodolite?" Nokto smirked flirtatiously, winking those scarlet eyes

"Mind ya own damn business foxface" Silvio snapped "my fiance's health is none of ya concern"

"I'm just being polite jangles, you might want to try it sometime" the exasperation in Nokto's voice paired with the eye roll was almost comical, if Emma wasn't trying not to give into the temptation to ride the jangler audience be damned.

Silvio met it with a scoff as he proceeded to lean forward and ring the bell on his desk to summon Rio or Carlo, a deep resonant sound filling the office and another movement making his cock press her sweet spot. Rio strolled in but before he could even speak Silvio barked at him to get more tea, she didn't hear exactly what Rio said in response but the words 'tyrannical' and 'jackass' seemed to be involved. The last thing she needed was Silvio and Rio breaking into another fight. Last week she was forced to squirt a plant mister at them to get the pair to snap out of it.

By the time a new set of tea was presented she had taken to clenching around him in an unpredictable rhythm, she made him stutter mid sentence much to her pride. If she was suffering so was he. Only, Silvio took the opportunity when everyone was distracted by tea to give her a subtle thrust that made her nearly drop her tea cup. Emma was almost delirious with lust at this point as Silvio and Nokto debated back and fourth over trading terms. They couldn't seem to come to a conclusion until Nokto suggested something so stupid she wanted to slap him. A future queen of Benitoite could slap the 7ht prince of Rhodolite right? Surely that would be allowed.

"How about we settle this with a round of chess?" he suggested Silvio grinned devilishly as Emma looked back at him "why don't ya just give me what I want foxface, or do you get off on loosing"

"Remember who taught who" Nokto scoffed as he reached over to Silvio's bell. Emma finally hit breaking point. She slammed her tea cup down, breaking both the cup and saucer this time making everyone freeze, even Silvio seemed slightly shocked

"Deciding trade policy over a GAME!?! This is ridiculous! You two need a time out. RIO" Emma had been working on being more commanding as fitting her future role, today she finally managed it by bringing this tomfoolery to a close due to the sheer annoyance stemming from her frustration. Rio hopped into the room practically wagging his tail at Emma's call, she instructed him to take Nokto for a tour of the new rose gardens she'd been overseeing. Nokto to his credit read the room and gracefully exited with a polite bow. She could feel Silvio beginning to giggle at her sudden forthrightness

"Lady-" Silvio was cut off as Emma grabbed the arm rests and lifted herself, pulling herself off his cock until only the tip remains and using every ounce of her strength to slam down hard, making the chair shake beneath them and Silvio moan. The movement and sensation of his cock stroking her walls making her burn up instantly at the feeling. Silvio finally shut up, reduced to panting seeming as overwhelmed as she was. She began repeating the process, riding the tyrant as hard as she could

"I cannot believe you" she panted as she slammed down again "you" she panted as she lifted herself again "ARROGANT" slam "BEJEWELLED" slam "BULLY" the word morphing into a strangled moan as her final slam into his lap sent her over the edge and making her whole body tremble. The marble of the desk was a welcome source of coolness on her forehead as she slumped forward after her climax. Her cunt was still fluttering and legs shaky but she pulled herself up as soon as she could manage because she was done with Silvio's nonsense.

Except she didn't get very far when Silvio grabbed her and the world shifted, suddenly feeling the cool marble of his desk against her back. The contents of the desk having been swept onto the floor, piles of notes for the trade deal fluttering to the in the air.

He kissed her breathless, pinning her to the desk, his warmth, the feeling of his solid and muscular body caging her down and making her desire build again. When he broke the kiss, his ocean eyes were molten with desire which contrasted with the blush spreading from his ears. Without warning she felt the fabric of her dress tear, the decorations pining off in all directions while he grabbed his letter opening dagger to cut her corset the slip off. The cool air now caressing her naked body, Silvio's eyes savouring the sight, licking his lips like a hungry beast.

"After that, you ain't goin' nowhere" he growled as he descended on her again. The ridiculous desk scraping slightly on the floor, the bell beginning to sound as he started ravishing her in earnest.

*-*-*

Carlo heard the bell sounding insistently, he knew Silvio was impatient but this was ridiculous. As he reached for the door knob his ears picked up the squeak of a table moving and muffled moans from behind the door. Carlo knew better than to interrupt that but he was worried if the marble slab could withstand Silvio, the thought of trying to source another one made his head start to throb.

#ikemen prince #ikepri smut #silvio being an awkward mess is the best #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #poor carlo really does not get paid enough to put up with Silvio #ricci brothers being the ricci brothers #ikepri emma #silvio x emma #nokto klein #silvio ricci being a jealous lil shit #kinktober 2024

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violettduchess · 1 year ago

Note

My favorite writer taking requests! I have to ask for Carlo and kiss 8 - dying to see what you come up with!

A/N: Here you go, anon! This took some time but I hope you enjoy it! 💜

Carlo x f! Reader

Word Count: 3106

Today:

How did I get here?

You stare at yourself in the floor-length mirror, taking in the fitted, shimmering green skirt that is supposed to represent a mermaid’s tale, the filmy pale pink and yellow of the material wrapped around your midsection and chest. Your bare shoulders and upper arms have been dusted with pearlescent white powder, your hair held out of your face by small hair pins in the shape of seashells. You look every inch the siren, foreign and mystical and not at all like yourself.

Behind you, you hear footsteps across the wooden platform, soft muttering in the language of Benitoite and you turn to see Carlo, Prince Silvio’s aide, followed by the twittering costume designer as he approaches to get a look at himself in the mirror. Gone is the solemn man in the plain clothing that skirted the border of being shabby but saved itself through quality of material. His ebony curls have been freshly washed and brushed away from his angular face, his dark blue eyes, the color of the sea at midnight, lined with black kohl. His usual fitted shirt has been replaced by a swashbuckler’s billowy tunic, wide open to reveal a surprising amount of well-muscled chest. Carlo used to work down at the docks before Prince Silvio found him, recognized the flame of intelligence that burned in those dark eyes and plucked him out of one life stained with hardship and into another one of research and service. Fitted black trousers hug shockingly well-formed legs, the calves of which are also covered by knee-high black leather boots. A sword hangs loosely about his hips, drawing far more attention to that area than it should.

He looks up from fussing with the scabbard, seeing you and he stops walking, nearly causing the costume designer to crash into him. With a few chirps she flits from here to there, making minute adjustments now that he is finally standing still, not noticing the way your gazes have locked with one another, the way his throat works as he swallows, trying to fight the sudden dryness. You have stolen his capacity to breathe, to think. How, how will he ever even remember his lines when he has to see you.....looking like that?

You turn away, hand pressed against the thunder of your heartbeat.

How did I get here?

Yesterday:

In your role as Rhodolite diplomat, King Leon has sent you to many places. You had proven yourself during your time as Belle and he valued your judgment in many matters. He had been especially impressed with the way you had won over his brothers, each and every one of them coming to, if not exactly like you, at the very least respect you. There was no one else he would have been happier to see take on a representative role, your intelligence and kindness and charm qualities befitting an exemplary ambassador.

You had chosen the gift for the Benitoite royals with care: a first-edition copy of a play by one of Rhodolite’s most famous writers, a tragic love story between a sailor and a mermaid who fell madly in love with one another but whose families were locked in a centuries-long feud that would ultimately lead the sailor to drown in the arms of his lover rather than be apart from her. Leon had chosen this gift as the story is set in what is now Benitoite and hoped it would please the royals.

And it had. Perhaps too much. Silvio, mercurial as he is, had decided he wanted to not just read the play, but actually watch it be performed. When he had been informed that the national thespian troupe was on tour, traveling throughout the Ruby kingdom, he had turned those sharp ocean eyes onto you.

“I’m sure the ambassador is willin’ ta do just about anythin’ to please us. Ain’t that right?”

Alarm bells began tinkling in the back of your mind but you found yourself sitting up straighter at the table, head tilting to one side as you regarded the haughty prince. A smile, much calmer than you felt, touched your lips.

“Of course Prince Silvio.”

He leaned back in his plush chair, necklaces jangling softly as he crossed his arms. Something about the expression on his face made those alarm bells begin chiming even louder.

“Then I say you do it. You can be the mermaid princess and uh....” His gaze scanned the room and landed on the man standing by the doorway, half in a shadow, quietly reading from a small, black leather-bound book. “Carlo!” The man looked up, startled.

“Yes, your Highness?”

Silvio smiled broadly. “You will play the lovestruck sailor.” He nodded once, pleased with himself. “Arrange for costumes, music, and all that shit. I wanna see the play tomorrow.”

Carlo blinked as he looked around the room, his expression one of bewilderment. The leap from whatever he had been reading to his new reality seemed to have clogged the mechanisms of his brain as he comprehended what had just happened.

“Go on.” Silvio waved a jangly hand carelessly in your direction. “Go meet your lover.”

His gaze jumped from Silvio to you and the question he was asking himself was written plain as day on his face:

How did I get here?

Several hours later you found yourself in the library, which normally would have thrilled you to no end. Except instead of foraging for new literary treasures, you stared at the gift you had brought like it was to blame, while Carlo stared at you, looking a bit like an owl that had been awoken far too early from its slumber and wasn’t quite sure if it was night or day.

Silence filled the room, snaking its way around bookshelves and wrapping you both up in its tendrils, leaving you awkwardly stiff and unable to form words. You had introduced yourselves, fumbling over each other’s sentences, words clumsily knocking into each other, and then you had placed the book on the desk with a loud thump.

Since then, there was no sound.

Finally you cleared your throat. “Staring at it isn’t going to help us. It seems Prince Silvio really is expecting us to….perform this.”

Your voice cut the strings that the room’s silence had been holding him hostage with and he sank into the chair across from you, a frown on his surprisingly handsome face.

“I would try and speak to him but I fear if he knew how much neither of us wanted to do this, he would dig his heels in even more and perhaps invite outsiders to witness our….production.”

You found yourself regarding him a moment as he ran a hand through his dark curls. “You really know him well.” Silvio Ricci was not a man that let people close to him. Clearly Carlo was one of the exceptions.

A smile, ephemeral as quicksilver, touched his lips. “Si. He is truly….exceptional in many ways.”

You sensed how there was more underlying his words, an entire iceberg under that small sentiment that poked out from the ocean of his experience with Silvio. But now was not the time….you tore your gaze away from him, clearing your throat as you placed your hands on either side of the book.

“I can edit this…write out the lines of the most important scenes. That way we don’t have to worry about the entire play.”

He nodded, encouraged by your brilliant idea. “Excellent thinking, Signora.”

You glanced at him. “You can use my name.” You added a warm smile, lifting one shoulder with a shrug. “After all, we’re going to be scene partners, aren’t we?”

You didn’t expect the flustered way he ran a hand through his dark curls, a faint dusting of warmth falling across his slanted cheekbones.

“If…if you insist.”

Tilting your head, you searched for and caught his gaze, your warm smile still in place. “I do.”

He nodded, rising from his seat to walk over to a desk across the room, kneeling to open a drawer. That smile was fogging his brain and he needed a moment away from its radiant light. You weren’t aware of the effect you were having on him. You were suddenly far more aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders as he crouched, rifling through that drawer and the narrow taper of his waist as he rose back up to full height. Quickly you forced your attention back to the play, opening up to the list of characters, blinking against the swift barrel roll your blood was doing inside your veins. A moment later, Carlo returned, setting several sheets of blank paper and a fountain pen of marbled blue and silver next to you.

“You can write out our lines here?”

“Yes, perfect. Thank you.” And you got to work, forcing yourself to focus on the familiar play rather than the man who was smiling so openly it made you literally ache to touch his cheek, close to that smile.

Another hour had passed. Outside the sky was readying itself for the night, painting itself in the most striking orange and pink. You were writing madly, lost in your work as you read over the famous play, picking out the most important scenes and transcribing key lines that would keep the story intact but trim away any extras. Carlo peeked over the top of his notebook, his mind distracted from nautical calculations and oceanography notes by…..you. You, lost in the play, mouthing certain lines as you copied them out diligently. And in beautiful handwriting, no less. Especially when compared to his own chicken scratch. You, so focused, trimming the play like a master butcher, carving out the heart of the story from within the many words. He understands that kind of concentration, that singular mindset as you navigate work like a skiff on the water. That was what he told himself anyway, that he was interested in watching you work and not in the way the evening light, spilling in through the library windows, blanketed you in its softness, catching highlights in your hair, the rose of your lips, the brightness of your eyes.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the sound of the fountain pen dropping to the wooden table startled him, his dark sapphire eyes blinking rapidly as he brought his gaze quickly back down to the notebook he had been happy to ignore.

“There.”

You slumped back in your chair, shaking out your hand, a grin on your lips. You actually did it and the pride in your accomplishment hung on the curve of your smile. Standing just as suddenly as you let the pen fall, you shoved back your chair and walked around the table to set yourself down next to Carlo. “Let me show you.”

His notebook disappeared into his pocket and he leaned in to where you began explaining the play and the scenes you chose. You spoke quickly, excitedly, as if making up for all the previous silence.

“This scene is where they meet, the handsome, adventurous sailor and the innocent mermaid…..” You went on to explain their instant connection, the fascination they have with one another. But their relationship is dangerous, forbidden by their differences, and when the sailor tries to tell the mermaid they shouldn’t see each other anymore, she responds with a desperate kiss, one of the most romantic, most famous kisses in any drama throughout the lands.

When you got to this part, he noticed the way you paused, lifting your gaze to meet his and suddenly you were both imagining the same thing: kissing the other person.

Your gaze dropped to his lips, tracing their shape. He has such a beautiful mouth….He found himself wondering if your lips would feel as soft as they looked. The moment stretched out, the only sounds in the room the knocking of your heart against your breastbone, the audible inhale and shaky exhale of Carlo’s breath.

And then the doors to the library swung open, scattering the moment like sand in a violent breeze.

“There ya are. I’ve been lookin’ all over for you.” Silvio sauntered in, shaking his head, golden earrings swinging with the movement. “You’re still my aide, ya know, Carlo. I ain’t got all night to wait while you two practice your little show.” He stopped walking, taking in the blush spreading across your cheeks and the way Carlo had immediately shoved his chair away from yours. Blue eyes snapped from you to him like taunt sails in the wind and then a slow, wicked smile claimed the prince’s handsome face.

“Looks like I'm interrupted somethin’.”

You sprang to your feet, dipping into a quick curtsy.

“Prince Silvio. We were just going over the edits to the play I made.”

Silvio cocked his head, moonlight-colored hair falling to one side as he continued to grin. “Yeah I saw.” He paused, considering his next words. “Well I hate to break up ya’ little rehearsal or whatever but I need my man here.”

Carlo nodded, brushing down the front of his shirt. “Of course, your Highness.” He turned to you, not meeting your gaze as he pointed to the papers on the table. “May I borrow these in preparation for tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you answered, the words coming out a touch too fast, stumbling on each other’s heels. “I remember which lines I transcribed. I can study them from the original.”

Amusement has Silvio’s eyes gleaming like coins in the sunlight. The sardonic curve of his mouth told you both how much he was looking forward to whatever happened tomorrow. He turned on his heel, jewelry jangling and snapped his fingers as he strode out of the library, but whether the motion was a signal for Carlo to hurry up or simply a sign of his glee at the situation he had forced you into was unclear.

Carlo started after him, holding the papers you painstakingly wrote carefully to his chest. Suddenly he stopped mid-step, turning to look your way one last time. Your eyes locked and then he gave you a quick bow.

“Until tomorrow.” He glanced up quickly, and then in a softer tone, added your name to the thought. The sound of it coming from his lips, rounded by that accent, sent a flare of warmth from your stomach up through your face. Every nerve in your body felt incandescent and alive. You managed to incline your head in return, hoping he didn’t notice the flush you knew was rolling across your skin.

When the library door closed behind him, you found your legs too shaky to support your weight and you sank back down into the wooden chair, drawing in several deep breaths.

How did I get here, you wondered, hand pressed against your midsection as if calming the tornado of butterflies that had taken residence within.

And what am I going to do?

Today:

Carlo is a marvel. Never would you have expected the quiet, seemingly shy attendant to step out from behind the red velvet curtains and become the witty, bold sailor who enchants the mermaid princess. He strides across the stage, a new man, shoulders wide as if challenging the world to even try and burden them. Sometimes, as he delivers his lines, you recognize shades of Silvio in the lilt of his voice, the swagger in his movements. Carlo mirrors the Benitoite prince as he brazenly proclaims his love for you, swearing to fight the seven seas themselves if it means he is allowed to be yours. He makes it easy, so very easy, to slip into your role as the lovestruck siren, completely taken by this man, wondering if she could risk everything to be with him.

You’ve arrived at the turning point of the play, the moment when the mermaid princess has had enough of denying her feelings and makes the decision to follow her heart. How does she do this? By interrupting a passionate rant, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and yanking him towards her, stopping the flow of words with a kiss.

Carlo is pacing, his lines flying from his lips, memorized with the same perfection he uses to calculate wind rates and ship speeds. His hands, glinting with golden rings under the bright stage lighting, are as active as his mouth, punctuating his words with gestures, emphasizing his embattled state of being in love and never wanting to wonder what could have been.

And then it feels like a dream, like you really are swimming underwater as you cross the stage to where he is standing, roughly gathering the soft white cloth of his tunic in both hands. You pull him to you, leaning up to press your lips against his.

The ocean roars in your ears the moment they touch. The stage, the gathered audience of royals and nobles, the cavernous ballroom where the performance is taking place, the dazzling stage lights. All of it is swept away, like the sea raking its fingernails over the shore and pulling sand along with it. All you know now is the shape of his mouth as it fits against yours, the feel of his arms as they wrap around you and pull you tightly against the safeguard of his body. It is both electrifyingly new and astonishingly familiar, as if your body already knows something your mind doesn't. His lips part and he seeks entrance to your mouth, brazen as the wind when it plucks at a ship’s sails, snapping them to and fro. There is no resistance. You yield, softening in his arms, relinquishing your hold on his shirt to run your hands down his sides, around his body, palms pressing possessively against the small of his back. You are sinking, down, down, into the taste of his mouth, the heat of his embrace. Still waters run not only deep but hot, full of unexpected fervor and heart-stirring excitement.

You have no idea how long you kissed, the time it takes a wave to caress the shore once, twice, fifty times. What you do know is when you finally break apart, the audience is motionless, breathless, hanging on the edge of their seats, and in Carlo’s midnight gaze you see truth, burning like the fire of a thousand stars.

In the front row, arms loosely crossed, Silvio Ricci smiles slowly. Knowingly. His instincts had been right and he practically glows with the satisfaction of it all. Benitoite will likely be seeing much more of the Rhodolite ambassador. Che bello.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri carlo #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #1k first kiss celebration #violettwrites

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