#Ikemen prince x reader

[yandere-romanticaa]

The soft scent of fresh roses lingered in the vast room as several candles grew more dim by the second, their overly sweet scent overwhelming your senses as the Obsidian prince made himself comfortable on the plush, velvet chair. He poised himself as a gentleman, a delicate smile on his pretty, pale lips as he crossed his legs and weaved his fingers together, the fabric of his dark, leather gloves shining ever so gently underneath the flickering candlelight.

For a brief second, he looked beautiful. Ethereal even.

His military uniform which he wore daily gave him a regal air, as is fitting for a prince, the fine fabric hugging his body in all the right places as his cape scrunched up ever so lightly on the side of his makeshift throne. He tapped the floor with his boot, the pattern consistent and ear piercing due to the suffocating silence you were surrounded with.

No one in their right mind would go near the man. He was a beast, a creature of the night ready to pounce onto any unsuspecting victim, rip into their flesh with his sharp claws and fangs - perhaps even blow their brains out with the gun he fancied. You could already picture him reaching out to his weapon, his movements lazy but determined as he held you at gunpoint, his finger not even twitching one bit on the trigger. Like lightning, the sound of the bullet would roar across the room as it would come into contact with your head, crimson blood splattering all over the perfect white walls. Your body would lay lifeless on the ground, blood oozing all over, the color matching with the red roses he so fancied to have whenever you were together, the splatters almost looking like the delicate petals themselves.

With the sound of an airy chuckle you broke out of your trance and accidentally looked Gilbert in the eye, the gleaming ruby shining brightly at you, challenging you to make a move.

Do you stay? Do you flee?

That was the true terror of Gilbert von Obsidian. However, what made him so awful was precisely what drew you in the first place.

Upon first meeting him in the palace gardens, you could not help but to blush fiercely with how delicate he was, how he so carefully placed a single red rose in your hair. Everyone around you gave plenty of warnings, telling cautionary tales as if he were some storybook monster rather than a man of flesh and blood.

But oh by the heavens, it was horrible how charmed you were by him. He was odd but kind, cruel but somehow merciful at the same time, a contraction manifested in a single man.

Perhaps he was some sort of devil because why else would you be so utterly enchanted by him? Why else would you keep on enduring his madness, this agony of not knowing his next move?

Deep down, you knew that you might just be a little crazy as well. Maybe even more so than the prince. That did not matter though, it was not worth pondering on about.

Right there and then, all you wanted was for Gilbert to steal you away and wrap you in his embrace, his lips on your own, scorching your soul down to the core.

You were his the moment he put that bloody rose in your hair. It just took you a little time to realize that as well.

[onceonafullmoon]

Ikepri Yandere chart (least to most dangerous)

(These are just my interpretations on the 8 princes ofc, and I’ll def do another hc collection for the other suitors if y’all want!! The princes in the color lists below aren't in any particular order, so you can rearrange them in your head) Warnings: implied kidnapping, violence (towards reader and other people), murder, noncon elements and manipulation

Green- not a threat Orange- you’re on thin ice Red- pretty dangerous Pink- you’re screwed

Yves

The most sane prince of the bunch arguably, so he’s also the least likely to become a yandere and the least dangerous one.

He’s too soft and sensitive to manipulate, and he doesn’t have too many connections in Rhodolite due to his Obsidian heritage. The only thing he really has going for him is talent with the sword… which isn’t all that great.

But while Yves doesn’t have that many talents, he’s a hard worker and he’ll definitely do his best to keep you by his side, no matter what.

Honestly, it’s more like dealing with a really annoying pushy guy who can’t take no for an answer than anything really scary, but there’s always the underlying fear that he might snap on you whenever you’re alone.

Nokto

Nokto is pretty unstable and sensitive despite the front he puts up, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.

Nokto has plenty of connections, so not only are you at risk of being hunted down by a rich benefactor’s mercenaries, any attempt of escape to another country be thwarted by his foreign allies

But don’t let his sly nature fool you, Nokto is deep down just a brat who wants to be held. And despite his manipulative nature, he’s hesitant to use those tactics on you because he truly does want you to love him back.

He’ll definitely try to come onto you a few times, but the likelihood of him forcing himself on you is practically non-existent, and he’s too squeamish to hurt you.

That’s being said, you’re still trapped with him for a lifetime, and you might just end up giving in.

Jin

With his aversion to love and the fear of becoming like his father, Jin becoming a yandere isn’t too likely… but sometimes fixation on not being something leads to being like it.

Jin’s a pretty physically tough guy and he’s well enough like by the people, so he’s got a few connections, but the most terrifying thing about him is the way he can get you to let down your guard.

He always uses whatever you’ve confided to him in secret against you by gently nudging you to go along with his ideas… after all, you trust him, don’t you? And if that doesn’t work, blackmail is definitely on the table.

Jin isn’t too scary, but he’s a bit… much at times, just a bit forceful when manhandling you. But he’ll never force you himself on you, swearing to himself that he’s at least better than his father in that sense.

Clavis

Oh sweet Clavis… despite his mischievous demeanor he really is just a pure hearted guy… that being said his desperate need to be loved can twist him.

Clavis has skills with the sword, shady business partners, and most terrifying of all, a very inventive and brilliant mind though he often underestimates himself.

I mean, (spoilers) he literally keeps an entire colony of people a secret from all the other princes (save Chevalier), how hard can it be to hide away one more person?

Not to mention, while he’ll never hurt you or force you to do anything you don’t want to do, he’s not above doing anything to put you in a more… vulnerable state.

You’re just going to have to pray he doesn’t figure out how to concoct a love “potion” for your own sake.

Leon

You might be surprised by his ranking here, but Leon despite the fact that he might not be very likely to be a yandere, is *very* dangerous.

Not only is he a talented swordsman, he has something that most of the other princes don’t have, a social life.

Okay, jokes aside, Leon is so likable and well respected that even if you do escape, hardly anyone will believe you, or if they do, they won’t even bother to care.

Leon isn’t completely deranged though, he’ll still allow you to push back and fight against him, but he has his limits too you know? Just don’t push too far, he’s not above roughing you up just a bit.

Chevalier

Yeah, you probably expected that he’d be pretty high up, huh? Well while he’s unlikely to fall in love, when he falls, he falls hard.

Chevalier might not have connections, but who needs connections when everyone is afraid of your sharp mind and skill with the sword? Not that escape from him is very likely anyway with his smarts.

The thing about Chevalier though, is despite his demeanor, he’s against unnecessary violence, so any worry about him attacking you in anyway is entirely unnecessary.

That being said, you’re not sure if the about the people you care about are in the same boat, and he knows that, so he uses that fear to keep you in check.

But he’s a genius after all, he’s sure he can make you fall for him eventually, it’s only a matter of time.

Licht

I bet you didn’t expect the babiest of baby boys to be so high up, but make no mistake, a man with nothing to live for has nothing to lose… except you, and he’ll do anything to keep you with him.

Licht is rumored to be one of the top swordsmen along with Leon and Chevalier, and while he doesn’t have any connections himself, Nokto is pretty willing to go along with whatever his twin brother wants.

But the thing that makes him so scary is the fact that he’s completely obsessed with you, he worships you, don’t you know?

Unlike the other princes before on this list, he has no qualms killing people if it’ll keep you with him. And he’s so obsessed he might force himself onto you if he thinks it’ll keep you around.

Be gentle with him. Not for him, but for you.

Luke

I mean, isn’t he basically already a yandere from what we’ve seen on his route? Platonically or romantically, if you catch this man’s attention, he’s going batshit insane for you.

It’s true that he’s the prince with the least resources having only known of his royalty for a few months, but he’s also the prince most willing to risk everything because of it.

After all, what care does he have for this kingdom? He only needs you, and he’ll do whatever he needs to keep you with him.

It also doesn’t help you that he has (spoilers) connections with the literal prince of Obsidian. If he needs to he can just grab you and cross the border.

And he’s honestly not above breaking a few of your bones if it means keeping you with him, though he might not force himself on you… hopefully. Just try not to set him off, he’s like a firework ready to explode at any minute.

[riveranova]

I've been speedrunning some of Gilberts route to catch up and...

I think this sums it up pretty good so far.

Thank you Gil, you really know how to calm a girl down 😭

[redactedbimbo]

Ok this is actually so sweet...

Also went back playing ikemen prince lol

[etheries1015]

Dom!Sariel x needy!reader

18+ Minors DNI

for my IRL best friend who is #1 Sariel fan, hope you liked this bestie I love you

General warnings: Fem pronouns, AFAB reader, reader is more forward than MC in-game.

TW: Aphrodisiac, Face fucking, whipping, spanking, Dacryphilia, hair pulling, almost being caught

After not meeting expectations for a recent exam given by the Minister himself and your lover, you were surprised to see instead of his typical chastising, Sariel sits you down with a cup of tea. Unbeknownst to you, the true punishment lie at the bottom of the teacup... where he snuck a particularly strong aphrodisiac.

"What is the name of the 4th king of Rhodolite, and what is he known for?" A seductive voice inquired, looking down at your naked body stomach down and back arched upon the very desk you had failed your exam on. Your wrists were bound together and your legs spread by the force of Sariels strong arms, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his cock. With your cheeks flushed red and beads of sweat covering your trembling body, it was obvious to any on-looker that you were not focused on the words coming out of his mouth.

"I- urgh-" You whined, "Don't know- fuck..." You let out a high-pitched moan as you tried to move your ass in an attempt to deepen his length inside of you, a desperate attempt to fill the emptiness that was itching for the comfort of your lover. Sariel 'tsked' and hummed in disappointment, completely removing himself from the warmth between your legs leaving you complaining about his absence. You attempted to move your head to flash him a needy stare, however, he pushed your head back down to the wood with a look of condensation.

"Uh-uh-uh..." Sariel sang, "I did not give you permission to move." You heard the familiar crack of a whip with a stinging left upon your ass that you had become tolerant to. That didn't make it sting any less, though. You yelped in surprise, going to scoot away from the black-haired devil before his hands wrapped around the outside of your thighs and roughly pulled you back with his hands. Without saying a word, he whipped you once more with a choked-out sob and moan leaving your body confused between the line of pleasure and pain. He frequented the use of his whip, but with the added sensitivity of the drink he had given you left your body in such a state of desire and sensitivity that it was particularly a strange sensation. The way the stinging left you wetter with every snap of his whip despite the pain it was supposed to bring, the hairs on your body standing on edge with great anticipation of every new mark he left upon your skin.

"This aphrodisiac is far more effective than I gave Prince Keith credit for..." Sariel smiled with satisfaction, using a gloved hand to spread the lips of your entrance and watch as your glistening slick substance dripped from your twitching hole. "If I hadn't known better, I would have mistaken you for a bitch in heat," instead of entering his fingers into you as you had hoped he would, instead you heard footsteps back and you turned your head in an attempt to peek at what he was doing. It was obvious he was teasing you, not giving you the fullness you desired, and completely disregarding your begs and whines. He could tell you were becoming more and more agitated every time he would touch you without gratifying you fully, the annoyance showing in your defiant glare.

Sariel folded his arms and looked down at you with a smirk and eyes of mischief, taking his whip out once more and caressing the handle of it.

"Since that question was so hard, I'll give you another chance. But I caution you to think through it wisely," he hummed, using the popper of the whip to glide gently as a warning against your sore bottom.

"This is- ugh," You huffed, "This is dumb! I'm sorry I got the exam wrong, but this is just cruel," You whined, your arms and knees throbbing from holding your body up, "Please Sariel, please fuck me, It burns, I need something in me..." You whined. Raising an eyebrow, Sariel bit his bottom lip at such a needy and desperate display. It wasn't often you were as vocal with your needs, the filth that was drawing out of your typically collected lips caused him to harden almost in an instant.

"If I simply gave into what you want," He held back his urge to ravish you right then and there, adjusting himself where he stood in front of your face, "Then that would defeat the entire purpose of your punishment. You failed your exam, and now you must pay the price for it...I'm disappointed in you, you know?" He pointed out, grabbing your hair and pulling your head towards his throbbing cock.

"Let us make a compromise, then. If you do well in this task, then I will give you what you want. Does that sound fair?" Without so much as a complaint coming out and only eager to receive what you were craving, you were almost too eager to open your mouth and take in his length. He chuckled at such a pathetically needy display, groaning as the warmth of your mouth engulfed him as far as you could go.

"I know you can do better than that," Sariel let out a groan from the back of his throat, gently wiping the tears that pricked the side of your eyes as you attempted to take him further. He used his thumb to rub your cheek with the affection of a man you wouldn't have guessed had tricked you into drinking an aphrodisiac, such small gestures leaving your legs like jelly and your stomach riddled with butterflies.

That kindness was short-lived, and you now realize was sweetness disguised as an early apology for what was yet to come. Pursing his lips and sweat beading his forehead, Sariel seemed to have reached his breaking point as he used both of his hands to grab the back of your head, forcing it down on his cock. He began to fuck your throat with reckless abandon, the sounds of wetness and gagging filling the air and tears streaming down your eyes. Watching you become an entire mess with your makeup smearing and your mixed liquids wetting your lips and cheeks, Sariel came almost embarrassingly fast. He let out a deep and uncharacteristically loud moan as he pulled out of your mouth, releasing himself over your face. You coughed aggressively and didn't have a moment to chastise your lover before he was already pulling out a handkerchief and rubbing your face apologetically.

"You did well," He said with honey coating his voice, "would you like your reward now? Or shall we stop here? I understand I was a bit-"

"Please!" You were quick to answer, "I've been asking you this whole time, please, fill me up! I need you," You whined. Sariel raised an almost surprised eyebrow before chuckling at your neediness and planting a chaste kiss on your lips, throwing the dirtied handkerchief to the side and moving to the other side of the table where your ass remained arched for him, showing off your dripping cunt enticing him to plunge inside. He pulled the top half of your body off of the desk, where your feet were now touching the ground. This made it much easier to have access to you as he pleased, lining up the tip of his cock to your entrance. Rubbing circles around your hole and spreading around your slick, he thrust forward gliding his cock on the outside of your lips to lubricate himself with your sticky substance, another needy complaint coming from you.

"Stop teasing me already and-" Your squabbling was interrupted as fast as it started, Sariel pushing himself all at once deep inside of your drenched pussy. You let out a moan and a shiver of relief, feeling full just as your body had craved. The pleasure was short-lived, for soon after beginning your moans were muffled by a hand shooting over your mouth and his hips stopped his movements against yours. You were about to protest before he whispered in your ear to be silent as footsteps sounded outside the door.

"Nobody was scheduled to be around my office this time...how annoying," Sariel grumbled. You would have put more thought into that statement if you weren't so distracted by his hips slowly and intimately grinding into you, hand still over your mouth.

"I suppose that means you'll just have to be cautious in your volume. If you make a single sound louder than permitted, we will get caught. Do you understand?" Giving him a weak nod simply to appease him, he kissed your head with a "Good girl" prior to his hips picking up in speed. His threats had little meaning as the low voices and tapping feet outside of the room faded down the hallway without even a glance to the door where such sinful acts were taking place, and you were almost certain you were now in the clear. Especially with the way the dark-haired man snapped his hips against yours, it was obvious it was empty words with little regard. He was acting as if he had been the one to drink the aphrodisiac, ironically the man who had done the planning to make you needy was acting as a wild animal drunk on the way your walls clenched down on his cock.

"It seems," He grunted, "perhaps the properties of the aphrodisiac make you much warmer inside...hah..." The slapping of skin filled the room, yet the fear of someone walking in was the least of your worries. He skillfully removed the ties around your wrists before pulling your arms back, lifting the top of your body roughly ravishing you as if he were a man starved of touch for days on end. You were in no better of shape, despite the throbbing of your knees and the film of sweat covering your exhausted body, your mind was blank with nothing but pleasure electrifying from where your lover took his place between your thighs.

tilting his head back and pulling you by your hips against his as he moaned with pursed lips, closing his eyes while his cock twitched inside your walls while your legs trembled with release. High-pitched moans elicited your lips as ropes of cum painted your swollen insides white, Sariel pulling out to watch your body practically collapsed to the ground. He swiftly caught you in his arms, smiling gently and planting a kiss of affection upon your forehead. You panted and looked up at your lover with lidded eyes fluttering shut, Sariel stroking your hair apologetically.

"You did well," He hummed with love honeying his voice, "Shall we clean you up now, my dear? And I believe a true reward is in store for your wonderful performance..."

You really did get the princess treatment afterward. After getting your clothes on he cleans up the mess left behind by your...endeavors, Sariel helped you back to your room where he bathed you and pampered your body with medicine and love. About two hours later with the effects fully worn off, you were lying in bed resting in his arms, talking about the effects of the aphrodisiac and how exactly it made you feel. You complained about the way he teased you when you felt so needy and at the mercy of his touch, the way that your body ached to have him inside of you yet his endless teasing leaving you feeling...well, words that you were not even able to properly convey.

You huffed, noticing the way he seemed to not fully grasp the extreme in which you had just gone through. Frustrated at his lack of understanding, you twisted a proposal to him.

"Next time, You're drinking that fucking potion."

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

Yearning and Learning

aka 100 ways he shows his love for you: Silvio Ricci

Rating: 18+? (Very brief and non-descript spice ments.)

WC: ~4.7k

Pairing: Silvio Ricci x gn!Reader fiancé(e)

*(There are allusions to his main storyline, & potentially Belle, but feel free to imagine otherwise, or react differently from Emma in past situations. Rearrange hc's at your leisure!)

Warnings: General mentions/spoilers for Silvio's route and event routes (mostly vague), brief and non-descript mentions of spice and aftercare, one mention of future children (no pregnancy ment), one passing mention of alcohol (it's Silvio & Benetoite so uh). Mostly "spoilery" references are of events that take place after the main storyline.

A/N: Please lmk if I missed anything, I wrote this in one go in the middle of the night bc I was in my feels for this man, I am down bad horrendous, truly. I adore his character/arc sm. I am also apparently unable to write anything under 2k, noted.

MDNI with my blog, especially anything specifically labeled as such. Insta-blocked if so.

Silvio always shuddered at your touch, but these days it's lessened. After officially becoming engaged, as long as it wasn't unexpected, he found himself less inclined to pretend he didn't enjoy it. That he didn't fawn internally over every one of your smiles, laughs, hugs, kisses, sighs, and I love yous. He's already let slip multiple times how cute he finds you, how much he respects you and cares for you, and how cute he finds you. Silvio still blushes every time, and shows his affections in awkward and tsun ways at times too; but his actions have always spoken louder, or rather yelled, compared to his words.

Taking on extra work just to finish ahead of time to take you on a date, or travel, or just spend time together. Doting on you when you're sick, tired, stressed, or generally unwell somehow. Carried you everywhere when you sprained an ankle. Called off and rescheduled work to take care of you when you had a fever. Would love you if you were a worm rabbit. Learned to lean into simpler tastes, learned to trust you; something so foreign to the man who believed he didn't even have any friends.

Silvio learned to have a little faith in humanity again after meeting you, after hurting you in his fear and spite, after apologizing and making up for it to win you over again, and still feeling like shit every day for it, wondering why you'd ever "settle" for him. He looks in the mirror some days, noticing how happy he looks, and pauses. Had he ever smiled like that before? Who was this man standing before him?

Makes love to you, explores with you, always focuses on your pleasure, as long as it takes for you to warm up, to feel good, or to make your way from start to finish. For someone with so much experience, but such distaste for others and their ways, he's surprisingly skilled in the ways of doing so, you think. Someone who didn't care as much as he said he did wouldn't have even bothered to pay attention.

He's always respected your consent, boundaries, and stamina, even if he's left hanging. You two didn't even get physical yet for awhile, and not just because work was insanely busy. It was partly due to Silvio giving you space at first, but also because he wanted to give everything time to sink in, to experience and appreciate your love for each other and all you've overcome so far.

Both in and out of bed, he pampers you and treats you like the royalty you'll soon be. Washes your hair, always takes care of you after any physical intimacy, bubble baths, massages, brings you flowers and things he'll think you like, or caves when you ask him for a favor, ridiculous as it may be, just to see you smile at him, knowing that he's the only one who makes you do so that way.

The thought of marriage still feels surreal to him, but he knows he wouldn't want to experience this with anyone else. To have something so fulfilling, so selfless and honest, in ways that have made him hope for the future. He's soon to be king, and you, his royal spouse. More thoughts come unbidden, ones he'd much rather put off, still too much to work through.

Would he be a good parent? Would you? Would he turn out like his father? His mother? Could he truly hold them and love them unconditionally? Or would he get stressed and drink again, trying to hide from his responsibilities? The very thought of doing so goes against his caring nature, repulsing him immediately. A strong sign that even if it's a bit of tough love, he'd still love and protect them the same way he does you.

Every night, when not out at sea, he returns home to you, to your shared room, falling asleep with you in his arms, hearts beating together as you drift off. Sometimes he'll fall asleep first, or wake up first, and wholly take in the sight of you. He might even muse aloud again, and if you're lucky, you might be awake to hear it.

He'd do anything to redo how he was when you'd both met. There's still a lifetime ahead together to make things right, to redeem himself for his past. But deep down, it's himself he has to convince, because you already know how selfless and loving he can be, even with those he's had a complicated past with. Little by little, he's begun to heal, to grow, to be less dependent on the ways he used to escape his reality. He's more present than ever now, and grateful for it.

Silvio swears he's going to go mad from how you consume his every thought. The cliché of wanting to wake up beside you, spend his day working to see you again, to hold you while the land of dreams beckons. He hates how easily you make him blush, fawn, react, and feel. But most importantly, Silvio's a big fat liar. Because he's never hated how much he cares about you, not even a little bit.

[pochipop]

＃IKEMEN PRINCE !! ♡ — THE WAY HE LIES (YVES X READER).

#. synopsis! — yves frequents your family owned bakery in the city, and he's such a pretty liar .

#. characters! — yves .

#. warnings! — very slight angst .

#. word count! — 1.6k .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — is this really the content anyone wants from me? probably not! but hello ikeseries fandom, i've come to join the tumblr ranks !

There he sits again in one of the worn-out wooden chairs of your family’s bakery, —his hair glistening like little strings of golden sunlight in the dying evening rays. Many moons ago, you’d have been nervous to approach him, smoothing your apron down, dusting flour off yourself haphazardly before making your way over to take his order, minding your posture like a single slump in his presence would have set the world ablaze. These days, you know better. . . Yves may look much too sophisticated to let yourself be true around, but underneath that perfectly polished appearance, there’s a young man much like yourself.

A young man who is also painfully uncertain of it all, who yearns for a place to belong.

With two servings of strawberry mousse in either hand, you place one before him, letting the little ceramic dish clink against the table. His clear, powder blue eyes draw to your face, and he bites back a smile, forcing that same neutral arrogance to remain even as you take a seat across from him.

“Back again, I see,” you grin a bit, shoveling a spoonful of the creamy dessert into your mouth, letting it melt on your tongue.

He hums in acknowledgement, taking his own spoon between his fingers to gracefully scoop an appropriate sized bite from the top.

“I had some business to attend to in town,” he replies evenly, pausing to taste the mousse, and then to swallow it down. “I’m sure I missed dinner at the castle and was feeling pekish on the journey back.”

You know he’s lying, but you don’t ask why. You never ask why he’s often so dishonest; both with himself and others. . . It’s easier to assume that Yves has his reasons and to leave it at that.

“I trust everything went well enough then?” You inquire.

His eyebrow raises in confusion, and you’re quick to clarify: “With the business you mentioned having in town, that is.”

If you hadn’t been sure he was lying before, you certainly were after seeing his face drop for a moment as he realized he’d slipped up in his charade.

“Oh, —yes,” he answers, giving a quick, unconvincing nod. “All’s well, thank you. And I assume business today went smoothly as well?”

“As smoothly as it can go, I suppose,” you laugh, —and ah. . . There’s that funny feeling again, the one Yves has been having in his chest as of late.

The kind that mimics a dastardly mixture of palpitations and the fluttering of insect wings.

He’d really like to fix this. There’s gotta be a way to pass this over, let these feelings pass him by, —because this can’t, won’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t ever work, and he knows it. You live in a world so completely different to his own; one that isn’t tainted by royal politics and all the gossip of bordering kingdoms that always lingers around the corners, threatening to swallow him whole. There’s no place for love when it comes to people like him. Not when any compassion you could ever show him would only prove to marr your reputation. It’s why he never picks the seat by the largest window anymore, why he only comes here when the shop is about to close, and why he’s never allowed himself to sit with you without telling a lie.

So yeah. . . Maybe it is for the best that you never ask why he isn’t as honest as he could be when it comes to you. Or to anyone else. 

“You seem a little down today,” you comment. “Is everything really okay?”

It’s just the way his frown seems deeper, and the way his brows seem so set in their furrow. He never looks outwardly happy as far as you’ve ever see of him, but usually there’s little flecks of joy that swim through his eyes, whether it’s over the sweets, or the peacefulness of the establishment, or over the way you smile at him so reassuringly, as if flashing one at him for just a second should be enough to soothe his deepest hurts.

His expression drops for a moment, like he’s surprised you were paying enough attention to notice the smaller details of his sour mood. Yves does his best to wear his heart beneath his sleeve, keep it hidden away, but you. . . He fears you see him for exactly who he is, and the thought of it terrifies him. Nobody should have to see that.

“Everything’s fine,” he nods after a few moments of silence. “The mousse is quite good today. Did you make it yourself?”

You fear the compliment is little more than a distraction, a way to change the topic without having to dwell on the previous one. But that’s okay.

“Mhm,” you nod. “Just a few hours ago, actually. We’ve been tweaking the recipe a bit as of late, and I think this might be the best one so far.”

“I agree. The sweetness is balanced with the slightly tart flavor of the fresh strawberries on top, and the texture is so decadent and creamy,” he answers, words emphasized by the spoonful he ushers into his mouth much less elegantly than before.

Something about it makes you smile. Sure, he’s a liar, but his eyes are so honest, and you can always tell what he really wants to say when you read between the lines. You imagine it must be hard to be a prince in such a small kingdom. . . To have so many eyes on you at all times, to be judged both at your strongest and weakest points. The riches of it all must be nice, and that’s all well and good, —but there’s so obviously a price to pay for living under that kind of scrutiny. You can’t help but wonder if Yves ever stops to let it all wash over him, or if he goes about each day pretending to be alright for everyone else’s sake.

At the very least, you hope he feels comfortable being himself here, with you. 

“I’m glad you think so.”

Silence falls between you for a bit. The sound of horse drawn carriages padding over the gravel outside and the soft clinks of your spoons against the little ceramic bowls echo in a playful chorus.

You’re happy he stopped by today.

“There’s some leftover honey cake, if you’d like to take it back with you,” you note. “I know you took a slice to go the first time you came in, and you mentioned your brother was a fan of the flavor.”

He blinks, lips parting slightly, as if he just can’t believe you cared enough to remember an interaction from so long ago. It makes him wonder what else you’d be able to recall about him, and he looks down at the strawberry mousse sitting on the table (though it’s mostly eaten by now.)

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he answers, voice softer than before.

Yves tacks on a quiet ‘thank you,’ to which you offer him another smile. He wishes he could see that everyday, feel the way it lights him up from the inside. . . But that’s a fool’s game to play, and Yves is no court jester. He’s a prince, —a cowardly one, and he’s not the kind of man you deserve. He’s not the kind of man anyone should truly care for.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you answer. “You’ve been very generous to myself and my family’s bakery. . . Really, it’s the least I can do. I’m afraid I’m not sure how else to repay the kindness.”

Perish the thought, honestly. He’d do anything just to see you every now and again, to reach out and remind himself that not everyone in this kingdom thinks him to be some kind of humanized betrayal. You look at him with such kindness in your eyes, and it’s a welcome change from the harsh, judgemental stares he often receives on his way anywhere at all. At least with you, he feels content; like there’s no shackles keeping him glued to a place of constant scrutiny.

You see him as he is, —and you ignore everything he isn’t. And he loves you for it.

You pack up two slices of the honey cake, thinking maybe if he really hadn’t eaten that much today, he’d be able to enjoy it at some point or another. As you hand the little box over, you don’t bother to insist he keep his coins in his pocket. He’s already fumbling around in his pockets for payment likely double that of the actual price.

“We’ll have macarons on sale this weekend, if you’d be interested in stopping by,” you smile, handing him the box of honey cake slices. “I can save you some.”

Even if he didn’t want them, (which he most certainly did), he would have accepted your offer anyway. If it means he has a valid excuse to come see you for a bit, then count Yves in without question.

“I’d like that,” he answers, his fingers brushing oh so gently against your own as he takes the box from your hands. 

You swore you could see the faintest smile pull at his lips, but it was gone before you could be certain of it.

The time comes once again for him to leave, and you watch him go with a newfound longing. From the window of the bakery, you watch as his lean frame eventually turns the closest corner, and he disappears for the time being. . . He’ll be back soon enough, you’re sure, but a part of you always hates to see him go.

Maybe one day he won’t have to, but for now, you resign yourself to closing shop, the thought of him dancing around in your head.

[judenostopwaitkeepgoing]

MASTERLIST 😈

*MDNI!*

A/N: I only write the EN-released characters! So no Vogel HCs for IkeVil and no Tanzanite/Acroite/Kogyoku HCs for IkePri! Sorry! I'll write these characters eventually, I promise! I will also add IkeSen and IkeVamp content eventually! Thank you for reading in the meantime! 🫶

Ikemen Villains:

Crown's Favorite Kinks! 😈

Your Villain as a CEO 👔

Your Villain Buys You Lingerie 🌸

Your Villain... On a Leash!? 🐶

Your Villain Against a Wall 🫠

Your Villain to the Rescue 🪽

Telling Your Villain That You're Expecting 👶

Ikemen Prince:

IkePrince's Favorite Kinks! 😈

[what-the-dark-has-foretold]

Days like This

Gilbert von Obsidian x fem!reader

Navi.

Warnings: smut, mdni, Gilbert bites (not that that's a surprise), implied spy (and/or maid)!reader

Autumn Festival 2024

Wordcount: ~900

Desperate shivers followed each touch; his fingers like ice – cold and unforgiving. The gentle brush disconcerting – too gentle. Too kind. You could feel his gaze on you, forcing your throat and heart to constrict painfully. He was too observant.

A gasp could not be suppressed when the tips of his fingers trailed down your collarbone and towards your chest. Your skin was covered in goosebumps. Finally, his soft hum pierced your hazy mind.

“It suits you.” As he said that, he traced the chain of your necklace, only stopping when he reached the Obsidian stone laying between your breasts. Deliberately ignoring how your breath came out shallow, he picked up the pendant to look at it up close. “What an honour this must be for you.”

Although you knew him well enough to pick up on the hidden sarcasm, behind it, you were sure, you could sense a trace of fondness. It took you a lot of strength to meet his gaze. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he said nothing, waiting for your response.

“It is,” you smiled at him. “I treasure every present you give me.”

His chuckle was sardonic, still, you felt his fingers linger, as if trying to feel your heartbeat. There was something flickering in his eyes for but a moment, still you caught it.

Only you knew that he was desperate himself. Only you knew how much he truly longed for a loving touch. How much he didn´t just want to take, but also be given readily. A decision was made in a split second:

“Come here.” He followed your call as if he had waited for it, followed you as you laid back on his bed, rested his head on your chest. He coughed, but neither of you mentioned it. The colder days would be hard on him. Your fingers carded through his hair and ran down his back. His body relaxed under your gentle caresses.

Like this, he did not seem so threatening anymore. He all but sought out your touch, voice cracking in a suppressed whine whenever you seemed to pull away. Then, his lips would find their way to your throat, mouthing at the sensitive skin. Soon, he would start to bite. His hold on you would tighten.

He was a conqueror once more, and you were but a simple retainer. His most prized possession, his most trusted agent.

Ice cold fingers brushed over exposed skin, untying the laces of your dress to render even more of your body utterly his. Teeth followed his fingers everywhere, your skin soon blooming with stinging red marks. He would only be satisfied, when all of you was evidently his.

The mattress dipped under his movement. He heaved himself up, eyes blazing at the sight of you shy – averting your gaze – with your dress partially undone.

“You look lascivious,” he rasped, darkened eyes roaming your writhing figure.

“Gilbert.” You're pleading eyes met his. He sighed, though a little grin played on his lips.

“Oh, come on,” he hummed. Gently, he brushed a stray strand of your hair back, then leaned down to finally capture your lips in a searing kiss. He couldn't help the groan that escaped him at your taste, and he gripped your hips so tight you were sure he would leave even more marks.

Spit connected you when he pulled away. His breath was hot on your face – a stark contrast to his ice-cold touch.

A single heavy look from him was enough for you to pull off your dress completely.

His fingers dipped between your legs, tracing the tip of your clit, then delving deeper and pressing into you. He watched as your back arched and your mouth opened in a silent cry of pleasure, glad that you were unable to see the furious blush spreading over his cheeks.

Far too soon he retracted his hand.

You were not giving much reprieve before the blunt tip of his cock tapped heavy on your entrance. Gilbert caught your lips when he sunk into you. Groaning against your mouth. His strokes were steady – slow but deep and resolute – making your body jolt every time he plunged into you.

His arms buckled at times, but you did not comment on it, instead let your hand trail down his body. He rested his chin on your shoulder, face hiding in the curve of your neck as he sped up. Under his rhythmic thrusts you played with your clit, keening from all the stimulation.

Carefully, you turned your head. His breath had become heavy, his groans lower, his pace hungrier. The way his eyebrows drew together in a frown told you all you needed to know. Sharp nails dragged up his shoulders and to his neck until you finally reached his cheeks. Gently, you pulled him up. He continued pounding into you while you held his face gingerly. Your moans grew louder and he leaned down to press one last searing kiss to your lips before finally stuffing you with his cum.

This was the only time he lost control, hips stuttering against you in erratic thrusts. You came when you felt him twitch inside of you. Moments later you were crushed by his weight. You laughed, but played with his hair, pretending not to notice the content smile pressed against your skin.

Cold days should always be spend like this.

[janumun]

Obsidian Retribution (IkePri Gilbert von Obsidian - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ 🌶️ Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian/Reader Words: ~4k

Tags: developing/denial of feelings, church desecration/sex, vaginal fingering, minor violence, spoilers for Gilbert’s route (chapter 9), re-telling of canon events, angst 

Summary: What happens when you throw yourself into harm’s way in a bid to protect Gilbert at one of Clavis’ covert anti-monarchy meetings? Unconsciously stirring out the whetted fangs of the Conqueror Beast. 

And you witness, once more, just how scathingly cruel his desire for monopoly over your body truly is.

A/N: I’m currently in the midst of Gilbert’s route but he’s been such a flowing inspiration and need that I had to write this indulgent piece for him, for myself and the five other Gil fans out there who would cry with me LOL.  

Characterization might not be accurate to end route Gil, as I’m at the beginning of his route still, so this is written with my understanding of an early Gilbert. ILOVETHISMANSOMUCH. 

The lethal sweep of the blade engulfs your vision entirely, the noble’s hand poised right above his shoulder — a strike you know you cannot avoid. Your life, as if you view it through the distant barrier of a panorama, right before it’s extinguished.  

The sole knowledge that you do not regret your actions one bit, your one solace, eyes drifting shut, that one moment of death stretching slow and long.  

A glacial whisper, of knelling death curls into your ears, “I do not recall allowing you permission to die by another’s hand,” His only pre-emptive warning, just before Gilbert grips a harsh hand about your neck and hurls you backwards— 

“Belle!” Into Luke’s body as he catches you against himself right before you careen straight into the ground. 

A whimpered groan breaks into the air right after; your whirling head, catching its bearings just enough to catch sight of Gilbert standing above the writhing figure of your would-be assailant, bunched at the ground. The sharp end of the perpetrator’s blade — now within Gilbert’s hand — he brings up in a vicious arc, surely in murderous intent. 

“Prince Gilbert, don’t!” Your voice breaks in terror into the air, before the knife is able to find home within its pitiful target.  

His hand, fortunately, halts just before it slits through the noble’s carotid, the latter long having fainted in mind-numbing fear, unable to bear the single-focused brutality of the conqueror beast.  

Gilbert raises his face as if operated via a puppeteer's strings, cut before it could fulfil its performance. Garnet gaze, sweeping slow, before it finds its next victim, within you. Your breath frosts within your lungs, incapable of function, the vicious weight of his terrifying visage subjecting you to his splintering displeasure, despite the cruel smile that remains even now, firm in place. “What is it, little rabbit? Are you begging me to kill you instead?”  

“Prince Gilbert!” You hear Luke entreat, as if from afar.  

A volatile shiver cascades down your spine at the look he’s giving you, thinly veiled revulsion and rage within that sole scarlet eye.  

Gilbert takes a step toward you; your breaths coming in short, staccato bursts and yet you’re unable to turn away from the hungering violence within that gaze. Scurrying thoughts unable to comprehend why exactly he seemed so incensed at you.  

“Come now, out with it. I know you wish to say something to me.” Gilbert offers you an encouraging smile, even as the murderous intent radiating from him with each step he takes forward, threatens to smother you entirely.  

You know what he wishes to hear in that moment, of no mind to hear your own thoughts on the matter. An apology, for your actions, reckless, they may have been, but you do not hold an ounce of regret for trying to protect the man that continues to disconcert your heart; sink his dark trellises deeper into your soul. 

“Prince Gilbert, I—”  

The stifling pressure in the room, cut through only upon Clavis’ interruption, just as he steps into the room to offer a jaunty congratulations to Gilbert for providing an entertaining show.  

The weight of his gaze flees entirely from you, your body — you did not realize you’d held steadfast by sheer force of will — collapses back against Luke’s comforting presence, just as he hauls you up and into his arms, to carry you back. 

“Aren’t you a lucky one?” Gilbert’s cheery voice drifts, discomfiting against your retreating back. 

“Prince Gilb—” 

 “Take care you don’t let me catch sight of you again, or I might just kill you.” Your heart thrums in confounding pain at his words, the clear line he carves in between the two of you in that moment.  

Your mouth unable to form sufficient words to try and catch his attention just as Gilbert turns away from you entirely, the soft flitter of his cape as he does, the last sight you capture of him, as Luke carries you away from the scene. 

 

The longcase clock at the end of hallway has long struck midnight. You continue to pace, restless, about the corridor. Eyes cemented upon the window, affording you a clear view of the castle gates as you stake your agitated wait for Gilbert’s return.  

Luke and you had returned a few hours back, to the castle in a private carriage. You’d run into Rio as soon as you’d alighted, almost immediately after, being carted in between the two men as they’d fussed you straight into the infirmary. The good part of the hour after, spent in making sure you were truly unhurt save for the minor scrap at your arms.  

It was only multiple reassurances later and holding Rio back from charging deep into the night after Gilbert, did you escape from the fretful affections of your friends and out, to await Gilbert’s return.  

His expression returns to your mind’s eye in vivid detail; the way that cold, scarlet gaze had zoned in on you, the shuttered intensity of violent rage underneath. It was as if you’d been looking upon a stranger.  

Now that you’d had a few quiet moments to compose yourself away from the fright of your earlier situation, bone-deep remorse was beginning to settle within, at having displeased Gilbert the way you did. A forced companionship he may have forged in between you two, but the startling glimpses of his kindness that lurked beneath the serrated edge of his cool blades, had your heart shred asunder between fear, rationale and genuine care. You couldn’t deny it, not after tonight. You had, perhaps, grown to care for Prince Gilbert, far more than was ever appropriate. 

The soft whinnying of horses disturbing the quiet of the night outside drags you out of your reverie just in time to catch sight of Gilbert’s figure descending the carriage.  

You begin your rush towards the main entrance, but instead of making his way into the castle, Gilbert’s steps veered off towards a path leading to what seemed to be, the back of the castle.  

You fly down the winding staircase and into the foyer, heart battering against your chest. Pulling open the great doors to the entrance before you dart after his retreating figure that is a mere speck in the distance, now.  

You do not want to lose sight of him. You must see Gilbert tonight and make him listen to what you have to say. Despite your fears, you do not wish to abandon Gilbert with the notion that you did not care. Even beneath the carving of a beast, he was just a human too. A man who’d come so close to bordering a rapidly diminishing line in between friend and foe.  

Up ahead, Gilbert ducks past belting cobblestone, headed in the direction of what seems to be the structure of an old church. You frown, thoughts wrought with questions you know you’d get no easy answers for.  

The tapering sweep of his cape disappears just past the great, carved wooden doors of the church, and you too follow, on tentative, urgent steps, slipping through the entrance and into the church.  

It sits empty, save for the dark figure of the man standing motionless, close to the pulpit.  

“I didn’t think you were foolish enough to come chasing after me even after I warned you not to.” Gilbert’s voice drifts eerie in its calm, down the long hallway, even as you trudge closer on careful steps. “Tell me, is it that pure kindness of yours which feels for every living being, or an empty head that has dragged you this far into the beast’s den?”  

Gilbert’s words are scathing, deliberately cruel, meant to burn. You have not heard him utilize that tone of voice with you in so long. 

“Well then,” he prods; voice, sweet poison. “Are you going to answer me or shall I make you answer me?” 

You drift further into the church on uneasy steps, the great doors behind sway shut behind you in a creak of finality, as if knelling of an ill-fated decision. Against all wise sense, however — your heart insists you do — you tread towards the man who stands waiting, at the end of the long, carpeted hallway.

A poised form; his head at an easy cant, a crinkled garnet eye fixated upon your foolish movements — you do not miss the incessant, muted tap of gloved digits across the flared bulb of his cane, an uncharacteristic agitation to his visage, you’re not used to witnessing on Gilbert. He stands, all obsidian, against the backdrop of watered twilight that filters in shafts past great, ornate windows on either sides of the quiet hallway — as though he is a devil awaiting the willing scurry of a sacrifice right into its willing maw.  

You grit your teeth against the frightening intimidation he’s settled deep into your bones, a festering cloak he’s had thrown over in between you, warning you to stop prying deeper into his affairs. “I want to speak to you, Prince Gilbert.”  

“Oh? What if I do not wish to listen, little rabbit?”  

“Then, I insist you hear me out.” The cutting streak of his blade is so swift, you only but feel the soft stir of your hair about your face before your breath frosts within your windpipe at the deadly edge of the sword he holds against the careful swallow of your throat.  

“You really do wish to die by my hand tonight. What an utterly insipid way to cut my fun short, Belle.” 

You force yourself to hold your ground, even as the first tremors of fear crumple across your limbs. “I don’t want you to kill me.” Compelling courage to rise in the face of his raw vitriolic anger, you wish to parse the reason for his distress. “I only want to know why you are so angry with me.”  

A serrated smile tugs across his mouth. “Do you ask because you really do not know?” 

“I don’t. And I don’t think I did anything to warrant your unjust ire either.” 

“Unjust...” he murmurs. “You would’ve realized it if you took but a single moment to think.” 

Your mind takes his words and works about them in a million different ways. “I realize my actions were reckless...” 

“That is a good start.” the sardonic amusement of his voice does not reach his eyes.  

“But I do not regret my actions, Prince Gilbert. I...” you swallow around words that are sudden lead within your throat. “I do not think I could bear to see you get hurt.”  

The admission uttered on soft, firm words; stews dense within the space in between you both. Gilbert's lone scarlet gaze, watches you, motionless as the terse silence stretches taut into several excruciating moments.  

Before he gathers his blade back into its secreted scabbard once more, beneath the cloak at his waist — your breath escaping you on a rush of relieved air, you did not even know how tensed you’d held your body, until its released from the grip of Gilbert’s dread, with the withdrawal of his blade. The Obsidianite prince turns on his heel, the flourish of his great, dark cape behind, as he moves to seat himself in the first pew. He does not look back at you as he instructs, “Come.”  

And you follow, without a word of complaint uttered; know that you tread in dangerous waters. A single, wrong move, and you’d miss your window of opportunity with Gilbert entirely. His emotions would be shuttered off to you, once and for all, were you to lose your nerve now and flee from him. Despite how part of your heart still tremored within his presence, how you still couldn’t help doubt each single edge of his kindness so deeply steeped within his malice; hope still sprouted within you regardless. Willing to gamble upon the Gilbert you often times caught glimpse of; one who’s consideration did not come attached with its poisonous strings.  

You shift on anxious steps once you’re in front of him, Gilbert’s gaze, mildly muted of its ire when he fixes it upon you. “Your impulsive actions could’ve cost you dearly tonight.” He begins.  

“Impulsive, yes... but even if I had stopped to think, Prince Gilbert, I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t afford to see me hurt, yes, I heard that silly part the first time you spoke it, little rabbit.” he reiterates.  

You clam up on yourself. 

“You could’ve died. Did you stop to think how much the mere thought of your demise irked me?” He angles the head of his cane, to tap against your hip, gesturing you closer.  

And just as you steal close within arm’s length, Gilbert’s gloved digits are curving about your arm in a vice, hauling you down to topple onto his lap. His murmur’s a warm caress against the shell of your ear. “I would’ve hated it if you’d died.”  

Your mind careens into a rash halt of all thoughts, blanking entirely at the quiet certitude of those words. 

“...What?”  

“Foolish, isn’t it?” His smile is wide, undisturbed across his face. Just as transient as the surface of a pond, subject to be disturbed by the slightest of ripples. “Even when I despise you so, Belle, I cannot let you go.” 

“Prince Gilbert...” 

Your mind cannot parse the meaning of his words. If this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d have understood him to mean he did not wish for his prey to be ‘impaired’ by another. Gilbert had told you so, on several occasions and in no less than explicit terms.  

However, now as you look upon Gilbert; emotions naked, unlike you’ve ever seen before. Jagged enough they could cut you through if you dared try wade in deeper. Into the insinuation barely concealed behind that sole garnet gaze.  

The arch of his cane steers a slow caress over the shirt at your chest, before it dents into a stop right above your heart. Gilbert presses in, insisting the polished head against the give of your left breast — your heart seeming to catch at the hook of it with how it seizes at the motion. “This right here could’ve stopped,” he mulls, almost clinically. The insouciant inflection of his voice disarming at the last careful barriers and inhibitions, thrown up in protection of your heart. “I am human too, you know, mere flesh and bone. I cannot be there to protect you each time that heart of yours decides it wishes to do good to all, regardless of their status as man or beast.”  

“Prince Gil—” Your voice fractures into a pained gasp, just as he seizes the fingers you reach out for him, sinking a sharp bite around a vulnerable digit. You clench back further signs of weakness with the slow, aching sweep of his tongue against your captured fingers; the teeth that worry at tender skin, pinching another warning at your approach. And reach out, again, with your other palm. Succeeding in curving your fingers about his cool cheek in a tentative touch up the line of it. Thumbing gentle right beneath the cusp of a surprised gaze, singular scarlet disarmed by the tender action. Before it crinkles in mild resignation, half rebuke, “You truly are a fool.”  

Gilbert tucks his face against your cradling palm, further allowing you slack, to temper at the beast that has — for the moment — lowered its great head to you. That is all the victory you need from him at the moment, for him to pay heed to you for the words you wish to communicate. “I’m sorry.”  

The apology rings piercing in the quiet space, Gilbert’s gaze unrelenting in the long stretch of time that seems to trudge slow in between you both, the longer he lets those two words stew.  

Pink tongue darting out a nervous path to slick moisture at long dry lips, “I’m sorry for not thinking my actions through and for not treasuring myself more in the moment. I realize that upset you greatly and I apologize for that, Prince Gilbert.”  

He remains silent throughout your confession uttered, red gaze, and a gloved hand, tracing a deliberate path across your chest, right above your heart. You know he can feel the moment it thrums faster, beneath his welcome touch — why, why do you not hate Gilbert touching you? — gliding its exploration across the space. “Will you promise not to do what you have today, again?”  

The thought of uttering a cosy lie, flitters through your mind for a split moment of relapsed judgement. Before fizzling in on itself; you know well how Gilbert despises untruths spoken, no matter how small. Would know, were you to try offer false placations. And so, you opt for the bitter truth — one you too, realize with a jolt of realization, “I... cannot promise you that.”  

His eye rolls up to meet yours, the sharp edge to it, you swallow against, as if he has a phantom blade pressed to your throat once more. “For as much as I deeply regret the trouble I’ve caused you, I know I’d hate it even more were something to happen to you.” 

“Those are dangerous fantasies to harbour for a prince of your enemy nation.” A muted smile graces his features; a dark gloved thumb he brings to trace at your lower lip, delicately disengaging it from the worrying bite of your teeth. As if he, too, hadn’t confessed so, in less clearer words, not too long before. A dangerous game you two play; you don’t wish to disentangle the throttling wad of your emotions tonight.  

“Well, that’s too bad then, I guess, because those are my true feelings, Prince Gilbert.” You stare back, resolute.  

His smile quivers in mild amusement. “I know.”  

“And I’m willing to do anything to show my sincerity, if it gets you to accept my heartfelt apology.” 

That garnet gaze shutters, taking on a hard edge at your words; the burbling shadows of darkness that catch just beneath that smiling veneer before it vanishes entirely. “You’re playing a treacherous game here, little rabbit, one that will unfortunately end in futility, no matter how hard you try.” His smile grows wider, until you’re seeing the flash of teeth in it. “Nothing you do or say can ever change the positions you and I stand in. So, tell me once more.” A firm arm curls about your waist, heaving you flush against the cold, clothed expanse of Gilbert’s chest, a stifled gasp leaving you at the motion. “You’re not silly enough to not understand the true implications of your offer, are you?”  

Your next breath quivers out of you. “...I am not.” Your fingers snag awkwardly at the regal collar of his mantle, sinking into the soft fur lining the edges. “I wholeheartedly wish to make amends.” And you pitch your head forwards, the tentative kiss you touch against Gilbert’s cold lips has you shuddering in his embrace. “I can’t promise you what you want but I can convey my honest remor—”  

His hand slinks into the catch of your hair, hauling you back towards him in a kiss of cool desire, mouth moving against yours in a manner, it leaves you flushed and breathless by the time Gilbert parts from you on a wet, sultry sound. A hand he cups about your jaw, thumb denting at your chin in measured strokes. You tip your mouth, catching the edge of his glove in between your teeth to tug, slow. Deliberate. Curving your hands about his, in aid, before you wrest the glove off his hand entirely. Moving to discard it behind, at your feet.  

Gilbert’s bared hand moves to curve about the flare of your hip; a patient squeeze he applies to the flesh beneath. His other hand he extends in silent instruction for you to de-glove before you comply without question. You tremble above him in need, his simmering gaze more than making up for the cold you feel permeating through the thin cloth of your dress. “Go on,” he encourages. “You’re going to work for it, aren’t you?”  

Your breath heaves with the slow rise of your chest, hand stealing past the stiff collar of his cape to settle your fingers at the side of his neck, tracing hesitant pads down the line of it. “You’re so cold.”  

His lashes sweep shut over his eye at your touch, canting his head further into the warmth of your palm; a figure he paints so lovely, you know this empyrean visage is what you’d always envisioned within your mind’s eye when you used to read about kings and princes within your happy fairytales, long before in a time that seems so far into the past now. “You should warm me, then. Show me you’re capable of it.” 

Sinking a vexed bite into your lip — adamant on proving yourself right — you hoist your knee awkwardly onto the narrow seat. Gilbert’s hands immediately flit to curve their supports against your behind and lift, just as your other knee too, settles by his thigh, effectively straddling him. Your breaths stopper momentarily within your throat with the expectant lift of his gaze, palms squeezing softly against your pliant flesh. Your hands fly towards the flow of your dress before you slip the material up against your thighs, deliberately exposing your bare skin to his gaze.  

Gilbert's eye flashes; molten steel bleeding into the gaze, before one of his hands steal past the edge of your still rising dress and in between your legs to glance a searing touch in between your drenched folds, right above your underwear. You gasp at the euphoric sensation, hips lurching against his hand on instinct, trying to capture it deeper into you.  

He indulges you — perhaps he feels particularly merciful in that one moment of whimsy — the pad of his forefinger re-tracing its path in between your folds. Before his thumb tucks aside the edge of your underwear, to slide index and middle in a slow, torturous path across the bare flesh from hood to base. Teasing the cool tips of them just into your entrance. Your body flares in mortified need to feel your wetness gush onto his fingers at that mere testing touch.  

His eye rolls up to meet yours, the smile that lingers at his lips, immensely pleased. “You’re very warm here.” Propelling his fingers, slow, up into your clenching walls. “It’s almost as if you’re running a fever, little rabbit.” You moan against him, with each deliberate thrust, the pads of his digits finding your weakest spot frighteningly quick, to scrape repetitive, at the soft flesh. “Do you think I’d be just as hot were I to settle deep into your place here?”  

Your hips judder against his fingers at those words, grazing the heel of his palm against the neglected bead at your apex, sending fire soaring through your body at that split moment of contact. Your soft, soughing sound of need breaks into the air, body gyrating down against that searing point of contact, in rhythm with the leisured thrust of his fingers into your spasming walls.  

Before Gilbert, cruelly, siphons the heat from you entirely at the cusp of release, fingers pried out of you to drift up against his mouth. He sweeps his tongue against his drenched digits, copious arousal dripping past his wrist to soak into the pristine cloth at his thigh. “Sweet thing,” he hums, just as you flush further underneath his piercing touch.  

And before you can manoeuvre your weak limbs for much else — mind so hazed in its lust addled state, you’re not sure what’s happening — Gilbert’s free hand is stealing about the curve of your spine. Pressing you down against the firm, hard strength of exposed flesh; the smooth head of him bumping about your nub to have you keening into the touch. Spine arching the rest of the way forwards without the coaxing of his hand, so he slips just past your entrance; fingers spasming into his shoulders at the stretch. You rock against that pleasurable almost burn for several, excruciating moments, in and out — surface thrusts — head falling back against your shoulders.  

Gilbert throws his hand about your body, fingers splaying just beneath the wings of your shoulder-blades, hauling your coasting body to hold firm, against his. “Don’t lose yourself now, little rabbit. You have yet to satisfactorily apologize.” Tempting your body down into his lap until he’s propelled, at last, into your drenched walls, a rapid sigh issued from Gilbert’s lips at the sensation.  

Your body quickly warming his into yours — the shape and stretch of him has you nearly faint with desire. “I’m sorry,” you croon on your first roll upon him. “I-I’m so sorry.” Grinding him up into your walls as deeply as you are able, the unyielding strength of him so numbing within your body. Even inside you, connected this intimately, Gilbert von Obsidian must have his own way with you.  

And you’ve let him do so, for so long; at his beck and call, thrown to his tender mercies. And yet, your mind had gone and coddled unfathomable emotions for him within its bosom. He'd gotten past your defences, just as he’d promised; crawling tendrils underneath your skin, into your frenzied beating heart, deep into your mind, until he occupied every thought along with each waking breath of yours. And your tiny victory lay in the knowledge that perhaps, you too had chipped a small chunk past that obsidian armour and carved a shallow wound at his skin, of your name.  

“I’m sorry for angering you, Gilbert.” You weep upon his length, hips driving fast towards a swift approaching release. 

“You are, aren’t you?” He breathes, hands catching at your waist to aid your movements upon him. “I’ll forgive you. And I’ll forgive you for neglecting to speak my proper title too, Belle, since I’m the one who has ruined you.” His smile is almost sweet, pleasant upon his face as he looks up at you — you drink that saccharine poison down almost fervidly. “You’re allowed to be remiss this once, because we are friends.”  

He’s driving, hard, into you — powerful enough the pew beneath you creaks with the propulsions — at an angle that has him brushing hot against your swollen nub in blinding strokes, just at the cusp of release, threatening to overflow. “So, call me Gil instead, when we are alone. I shall permit it, for you. Say it now.” 

Your body breaks, spasming into a release so violent, your entire body shudders above him. “Gil.” You sob out loud, your arms he coaxes about the strength of his shoulders. Fingers you sink into the soft fur of his mantle to ground yourself, just as Gilbert’s warmth follows soon after into your quivering walls. “I-I’m sorry, Gil.” 

A breathless, flushed grin, Gilbert von Obsidian buries against your mouth before he speaks. “Apology accepted, little rabbit.” 

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here.

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter.

[dreamofjoys]

IKEMEN PRINCE — Chevalier Michel Self Aware AU (Yandere version)

— C/W: Self aware themes, YANDERE, might be OOC, masturbation (male), kidnapping

— A/N: My wild brain is acting up again

MDNI. 18+ only. The following content contains YANDERE. HATE COMMENTS WILL BE DELETED AND BLOCKED! You have been warned

Chevalier has been wanting to pounce on you the moment he first laid his eyes on you

There was something about you that just makes him so attached to you

Was it because you were never scared of him at all?

Even though he may appear as just a fictional character to you, he is amused at how you treat him like a real person and love him as if he is actually your real lover (he is very happy about this)

His love obsession with you grew as the day passes

Sooner or later, the whole app is just about him

You cant access other character's route or interactions. The only person that you can interact with is him

However, this man has some.... pent up frustrations

His cock has always been throbbing in need whenever he sees you log in to the app as usual

It's painful for him to be limited in what he can do in this app. He wants nothing more than to touch you and fuck you on his bed

To ease this frustration, he starts to jerk himself off to your voice - aka whenever you logged in to the app

While you ramble about your day to him, this man is fisting his angry cock behind the screen and cumming on himself to the sound of your voice

He may appear calm and collected on the screen, but behind that facade, this man wants nothing more than to break the barrier that separates the both of you and take you back to his world

Perhaps it’s time for him to come up with a plan to bring you over to his side, permanently

It had all happened too quick

You were sleeping in on a normal weekend when you wake up to an unfamiliar surrounding

Why is there suddenly a big shelves of books in "your room" and why is your bed suddenly so soft?!

You blinked profusely and pinched your cheek, wondering if this is all a fever dream

But no matter how hard you try to deny it, your surroundings doesn't change at all. The stinging pain on your cheek is a clear reminder that whatever situation that you are in right now is reality

Just as you were about to start panicking, a cold voice interrupts you

"Are you done hurting yourself?"

You whipped your head to the source of the voice and found a handsome blonde man with eyes as blue as the frozen sea staring at you

He shuts the book in his hand and walk over to you while maintaining

It was then you realised how familiar this room looks like and how this man looks like a certain character...

The man took your chin between his thumb and index finger before lifting your head up and maneuvering it to get a better look at your face

With the way he was handling you, it felt like he was almost inspecting you like a tool

When he was done, his lips curls up into a devilish smirk

"Finally, you are mine."

[cherryxblossxms]

🔞 Thinking about Rio and how "just the tip" would fail utterly and completely and how he'd completely lose his mind to it.

Rio wants to make you happy, that's always his goal, and he'd rather die than ever disappoint you. And when you mention you want to try leading in bed, want to try teasing him, maybe edging him, for as long as possible to make up for all the times he's made your brain melt, he's quick to accept. But nothing challenges his strength of will more than just the tip, not when he's watching your body sway above him and he feels the tight, wet heat of your body on the tip of his cock.

Quite honestly, he feels like he's losing his mind, even when little time has passed. He's just always so eager for your touch, to love you and kiss you and fuck you the way you deserve, so holding back is far from ideal. That's mostly what leads to him unraveling you so often and so well, the desire to fill your thoughts with pleasure, perhaps with thoughts of him, to make you happier than you could possibly handle. So now, it's embarrassingly quick how soon he's crumbling beneath you, begging for you to let him fuck you, to sink down on him entirely.

What started out as soft whimpers and breathy moans easily devolves into begging and pleading. It doesn't help that you built the anticipation sky-high to start with, not with the way you licked and stroked his shaft, squeezed his heavy balls just how he liked it, and then spent the next several minutes grinding against him. In that position, all it would take is the right angle of his hips at the right moment and he could slide right into you. But that'd be going against your wishes, so instead he endured. And endured some more.

And now, as you swirl your hips, bounce just a little bit to where he can feel your body engulf another inch of his length, it's impossible for him to keep his mind straight anymore. The begging has turned into nearly incoherent babbles by this point, most of the words you can make out are just "please" and "more", and he looks ready to cry at any moment. And really, he just might, if you decide to finally show him mercy.

There's also the possibility that, despite his desire to keep you happy and obey your rules, he may also break the "just the tip" rule. He can't help it, he knows you deserve more, that he can make you feel so incredibly good if you just let him. And the ache in his balls is crying out to fill you up, sink you down on his cock so he can give you every last drop and then some. The second you give him the green light, he's pulling you down, almost blacking out from relief as he's finally sunken in to the hilt. He's surely spending the rest of the evening, going into the night, as deep inside you as he can be.

Rio loves to make you happy, and it's so important to him that he never disappoints you. But even he has his limits, and when you're giving him that little taste of heaven, can you blame him for being a little selfish and wanting more?

[archetype-earth]

Rio, who gently smiles in silent understanding.

Ocean-colored eyes wash over your tired form, curled up and bundled under the safety of soft blankets. He doesn't say anything. He simply hugs you, pressing a kiss to your exposed forehead.

If you want one, he'll gladly bring you a drink or food. He's already working his hands all over your body, massaging tense muscles that need a moment to relax. His lips are soft as they press on your eyelids, feather-light.

Anyone or anything is kept away. Stress, distractions, work, other people... He guards your peace, like the loyal guard dog he is.

[riveranova]

(A/N): Aaand the second part! <3

IkePri's Sleeping positions! x GN! Reader - Part 2

Warnings:

Characters: Chevalier, Luke, Yves, Jin, Licht, Leon, Ikemen Prince

Word Count: 335

Chevalier Michel

Sleeping schedule worse than Jin's haircut

He's a hugger, 100%

No matter if it's a pillow or a poor, little rabbit

Doesn't sleep much, usually a really light sleeper

We know that he doesn't like to wake up early (slay)

So get ready to get squished to death by him

Luke Randolph

Sleeps everywhere, anytime

Sometimes you wonder if they way he's sleeping ever hurt him

Snores. Snores really loud. You'd think there was a construction side in the garden but suprise! it's just Luke

Head back, arms crossed, legs spread

Ffs, he's taking up the ENTIRE bench

Sleeps like a rock but open a jar of honey and he's awake and ready for duty! (eating the honey)

Yves Kloss

I will not elaborate further.

Jin Grandet

Similar to Luke, but less.. messy?

Manspreads like his life depends on it, too

But doesn't sleep around the palace (he does but that's a different thing-)

Takes up the entire bed, face first into the pillows

Honestly, he looks like he just fell into bed and went ''fuck it, this is how I sleep today''

On top of his covers, sometimes uses them when it's cold or he has uhm... 'guests' over

Licht Klein

Sleeps like a sick victorian child

Completely still in the middle of the bed, covers halfway up his chest and hands folded on top of them

Quiet, not a single sound can be heard, not even breathing

Doesn't turn around, ever

Just sleeps like that, still, unmoving

When you sleep in the same bed, you'll have to curve around him

Leon Dompteur

''I don't have any space, Leon.''

''Me neither.''

Camera cuts to the entire bed

You lay at the edge of your side, almost falling off while Leon hugs you from behind, the entire bed behind him is empty

Will not move, no matter what

Steals blankets just to throw them to the ground

Hugs you like a baby koala, so you don't even need those blankets :)

[whatever-fanfics]

Imagine the princes as uncles

~~~

Ikemen prince

Suitors: Rio Ortiz, Silvio Ricci, Yves Kloss, Licht Klein, Nokto Klein

Tw: contains children, bullying, harassment, verbal harassment,

~~~~~

Imagine Rio and MC's little boy running from other kids in the palace as they see their uncle King Silvio. Silvio talking with other ministers has his back to the scene, being so engrossed in what the ministers are saying he doesn't notice his little nephew until he crashes right into his legs, almost losing his balance. His annoyed face softens ever so slightly, only visible to himself as he sees his nephews crying face, blonde hair slightly covering his reddened eyes, sniffling as he hugs the little stuffed bunny, made for him by his grandmother. A quiet "oi" fell from his lips as the young boy rubbed his face into the crease of his knee. Sighing in fake exasperation he lifted the young boy into his arms, quietly griping as he took out his handkerchief to wipe the boys sniffling nose. Resting him on his hip his eyes took notice of the three young boys, as he raised an eyebrow they flinched and cowered back. Immediately understanding the situation he spoke lowly "what?" Not at all surprised as the boys turned and ran scared by the man in front of them. The ministers could only watch in silence as their king turned back around, seemingly unbothered by his nephew hiding himself in the kings shirt. "You were saying" Silvio continued.

~~~

Or, Licht looking at the door of the kitchen, the light of the hallway cut off by the small shadow by the door. Sighing as his young niece made her way from the door to him, in her tiny nightgown. Not sparing her uncle one glance as she made her way straight to the cupcakes on the counter. Specially made by her father and mother earlier that day, try as she might she couldn't reach the cupcakes. Looking at her uncle for the first time that night she pouted at him and reached her hands up, with a sigh he put the rest of his cupcake in his mouth and lifted the young girl. "You shouldn't be up so late" he gently chided, as he set her down on the counter. She surprised him as she didn't let go immediately, he hugged her back and waited for her to let go. After she did Licht took notice of her barren feet, sighing he put his fur over her. Together the two sat in silence eating their cupcakes until each had their fill. Afterwards, Licht quietly carried his niece back to her room as she dozed off on his shoulder.

~~~

Or maybe, during a ball Nokto sighs as he downs the rest of his liquor and leads the noble woman out of the ballroom. Her giggles falling on deaf ears as he comes to a stop, her giggling ceased as she laid eyes on the scene in front of them. "Should we alert a guard?" She whispered, as she looked the young princess of age 14, trying to mold herself into the wall behind her as a young, most likely, inebriated nobleman pressured her. "Get my twin" she didn't like the way his voice lowered an octave. Nonetheless, she scurried off back to the ballroom in order to fetch the princess' father. Nokto wasted not a single second before walking towards the pair. Nokto's eyes darkened as he heard the young nobleman speak as he walked closer, though the pair had yet to notice him. "Just say yes while I'm being nice" the young nobleman paused and put his arm on the wall next to her head, half caging her in. "Honestly, I'm the best yer gonna get in yer situation. I mean come! on!" he learned in a little close to her. "You're not even a fully blooded noble, your mom is a Commoner and yer a twin to boot" he snickered before feeling a pressure on his shoulder. Not before feeling his weight shift, stabilizing himself as he looked at who had shoved him. Retort dying in his throat as he came face to face with the seventh prince. His legs gave out beneath him as he wondered if this was what a rat felt like when faced with a fox. Nokto's anger only quelled as he felt his niece squeeze his midsection, small sniffles escaping her. Nokto breathed through his nose, calming himself down, losing his temper now would only scare her further. They didn't have to stay silent for long as they heard multiple footsteps hastily heading their way. Nokto didn't have to turn around to know they belonged to his twin and his family. Nokto didn't realize it but he was holding onto her just as tight, only letting go as she wriggled herself out and threw herself into the arms of her mother. The young nobleman was ready to sprout tears as he stared up at Nokto, Licht, along with the young princess' older twin brother. Luckily you had been able to diffuse the situation enough for the guards to escort the young nobleman put of the palace. As Nokto was about to take his leave he felt someone tug his coat from behind, turning around he was surprised to see his young niece's reddened eyes and sniffling nose. Before he could ask she hugged him tightly once more, staying like that for what seemed for hours. The rest of the family looked on in silence as Nokto comforted his niece.

~~~~~

[etheries1015]

Hiii! I saw you write for Ikemen Prince, and I really like your writing, so I wanted to ask u a bit of self-indulgent headcanon 👉👈

I wanted to ask some headcanons for Chevalier and Silvio with a fem!s/o (or also gender neutral is fine❤️) who is insecure about having small boobies/a flat chest? If you're uncomfortable with it it's fine! And ty for reading this, have a nice day and drink plenty of water!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

This is probably my first ikemen prince request! YIPPEEEEE <3 heuheuehu.

Fem! MC who is insecure about their small breasts </3

Featuring: Chevalier and Silvio!

general warnings: Afab reader + fem pronouns, mildly suggestive, slight spoilers of Silvios route.

Chev

Chevalier could tell by the way you requested your dresses with more ruffles and outfits that hid your chest that something was amiss. It wasn't the first time he realized you had this insecurity, the way you would stare off in the distance at a group of noble women with envy and sadness glinting in your eyes as you took note of their curves, your hands absentmindedly fiddling at the ruffles the top of your dress. This went on for a week, the stares, the off-hand mindless comments about your undergarments, the mannerisms you had at night in your gowns, and the insistence of ones that accentuated the right places (he over heard you speaking to the tailor he had assigned you for.)

He thought this was normal womanly behavior, for every woman seems to find jealousy in others for reasons seemingly ridiculous in his eyes. Always being a man of action Instead of speaking words of affirmation, Chev would do things such as reject certain clothing you wanted to wear to balls and suggest something else that actually seemed to show off your flat-chested outline, or lay out outfits he had chosen rather than allowing you the freedom of that choice. He did not know that the problems were rooted deeper than that until you brought it into the bedroom.

Things were becoming heated when you insisted that you not face him during intimacy, and began covering your chest shyly as he undressed you with typical eagerness for the nights passion. finding himself becoming rather annoyed at your sudden shyness, Chev found himself grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, moving his eyes right above yours to tower over you.

"I thought I had made it clear," He stated in his usual monotone voice, "That you have no need to be insecure about something as frivolous as your chest." He grunted. Your eyes widened in surprise at his comment and turned your head shyly, your hands struggling to break free from his strong grasp with the automatic response to cover up what you have been trying so desperately to hide. You should have known he would have easily caught onto you.

"I can't help it, King Chevalier," You replied with sadness in your voice, "It's just something you wouldn't understand. Having breasts like this just...feels debilitating as a woman," You felt yourself choke up, Chevalier's eyes squinting ever so slightly as his lips began to lower themselves to your buds.

"You do not need to worry about such drivel," He said, planting a soft kiss against your small mounds before taking a gentle bite, smiling at your eager mewl.

"The size of your chest does not determine your worth," he said with his mouth pressed against your sensitive skin, hands snaking down to your thighs and in between, "Such silliness does not matter. As far as I am aware, one's breast size does not factor in what makes you a woman. You have many more qualities that I would see classify you as such, much more than something like your bosom." He riddled your skin with kisses and teased your breasts with love and attention, bathing you in rare verbal praise to match the marks he left upon your body. Chevalier was certain to prove to you in his actions over and over again that you were his queen, his prized possession, and the most beautiful being he ever had the pleasure of spending the rest of his life with.

Silvio

Unlike Chevalier, Silvio was a bit more clueless on things such as comparing yourself to other women. He thought he had made it clear to you that his eyes were set upon nobody else but you, for you were the shiniest treasure he ever laid eyes upon. He never actually noticed the jealousy in your eyes at passing women in the halls and simply assumed when your gaze lingered on another woman at balls it was perhaps in interest to their dresses. He didn't notice the way you would ask him to start providing your clothing with a baggier style, thinking to himself perhaps it was a trend you caught onto. Never being a fan of getting to know other women, he seemed to be rather clueless in the comparisons and habits they may make out of insecurity.

He had, however, noticed your silence and lack of enthusiasm whenever you undressed, the way your optimism as of late had dwindled, and how your smile did not seem as vibrant as before. This happened in your shared bedroom with the king, preparing for your nightly bath that became routine with your lover. He noticed the way you stared into the mirror with a look of sadness glinting in your eyes, your arms moving up to cover your chest and sighing.

He was quick to move behind you, snaking arms around your waist and moving his head to kiss you gently against your neck. You tried to give him your normal enthusiastic smile with very little success, groaning in frustration at your low energy.

"What's gotten into ya?" He asked with worry thick in his tone, "Why're ya covering up like that? Let me see you," He purred, turning your body and tilting your chin to reach his gaze. You pursed your lips and gave into your resolve of leaving him out of it, blurting out your honest thoughts to your lover.

"Aren't you...y'know... embarrassed to be with someone with not many..um.." You glanced down at your chest before looking back up at him, "Assets?" Silvio's eyes widened in shock at your sudden inquiry, grunting in annoyance as he lifted you up with great strength and sat you on the counter of the bathroom.

"Hah? What are you on about?" He sneered, furrowing his eyebrows and holding your body close to his, "Ain't nothing wrong with being a bit flat chested- if that's what you're talking about." You looked away with a blush upon your cheeks.

"So you admit that I have small boobs?" You were half teasing your lover, knowing the best way to talk to him seemed to be with playful banter. He raised his eyebrows at this accusation, although his gaze remained sweet and calm seeing through your rouse.

"Well, yeah you ain't gotta lot there. But none of that matters to me, and it shouldn't matter to you."

"I feel like it makes me less of a woman," You pouted, "There's a lot of other women who-" He cut you off with a rough kiss against your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth and moving his hands to cup your breasts. He began to massage it gently, a hum of satisfaction deep in his throat. Silvio pulled away with an arrogant smile at your pout, trailing kisses from your jawline down to the breasts you claimed you detested.

"You better stop all that talk. You should know by now that you are more a woman than any of those plastic noble women will ever be," He placed kisses around your now sensitive mounds, "Now, next time just come out with it and tell me instead of bein' all sulky, alright? I don't care how long it takes or how many times I gotta do it, I'll convince ya time and time again how you're my queen."