#fanfic ikeprince

[omkookie]

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Smut, rut, PIV, oral, handjobs and nipple sucking, Rio wants to breed

Bunny!Rio whose rut starts at the beginning of the month.  Despite his aching cock, and heavy sack, he's ready to give you some sloppy head in the morning and pretend that he’s still completely fine. He doesn't want anything in return! 

He's so whipped for you, he's going to kiss your feet and worship the ground that you walk on. You so kindly let him suck on your pretty clit, so it's the least he can do for you! 

His brain short circuits when you pull him towards you, and tell him to fuck you. He's not sure he heard you right, so he asks you to repeat yourself. When you pin him down on the bed and rip his shirt open, his pupils dilate and his self control snaps. 

He grabs onto your hips and grinds his aching cock up against you, allowing you to unbuckle his belt. 

You let him fuck you until he loses count of how many times he's ejaculated. After he cums in you again, he topples over on the bed. His cock is still hard and leaking cum, and his fluffy tail twitches from time to time. He lies there, tired, but still horny and turned on. He wants to fill you with more of his cum! He can see his cum ooze out of your pretty pussy and drip down your pretty thighs, but he wants more! He needs to breed you, to make sure that you're pregnant. 

The two of you can have plenty of cute little bunnies! And he'll stay at home to raise them all, like the good little house bunny that he is. 

“One more…” he pants, pushing himself up on his elbows, “One more time please” he begs, his cheeks flushed in a deep hue of red. He lies back down against your chest, and his hand reaches up to cup your right breast, meanwhile while his mouth latches onto your left nipple. He sucks your breast gently, his tongue rolling your nipple. 

“Does my pretty bunny need to cum again?” You ask him, your hand reaching down to stroke his needy cock. “Please” Rio whines, letting go of your nipple to let out a needy cry. Ge goes back to suckling on your nipple as you jerk him. 

“Is my pretty boy going to cum?” You kiss his forehead, making him melt against you. “Mmmhm” he hums, letting go of your nipple to bite his lip. 

“I'm so close…. Please” His fluffy ears twitch, and his thighs tremble. Your bunny boy was getting closer to cumming again, and he held onto you for dear life. 

“I wanna cum inside you…” he whines, “I need to fill you up…with so much little bunnies” 

Your grip on his cock tightens as he continues to mindlessly ramble, “Please…oh… I need to get you pregnant. We're gonna..” he pants needily, “We're gonna have so many cute baby bunnies”

You'll let him cum in you, right? ;3 

[judenostopwaitkeepgoing]

IkéPrince's Favorite Kinks 😈

18+ | MDNI! | IkéPrinces x Fem!Reader

CW: Some kinks are not for everyone! Mentions of (consensual!) power imbalances, bodily harm/violence, Dom/Sub dynamics, humiliation/taking advantage, mentions of cutting/blood, some slight CNC (somnophilia), (consensual) controlling behavior, mentions of fingering, p-in-v sex, and more!

AN: These are just my opinions on which kinks the princes/other Rhodolite court members would be into! Some of them are a little more on the extreme side of things! Haha! This post is for all you fellow freaks out there! Enjoy!!

Jin Grandet – Sensation Play / Sensory Deprivation (blindfolding)

Jin is a slut, it’s true, but he doesn’t strike me as the kinkiest guy in Rhodolite. However! He likes to spice things up now and again! I feel like he would get a kick out of being lightly tickled with a feather as foreplay—even better if it was happening while he was blindfolded. Anything to draw out the anticipation and tension for this guy who usually doesn’t have to work that hard at getting someone into bed with him lol. Also, imagine lightly tracing a finger or a butter knife or a feather or literally anything over those shoulder and chest muscles....? And he might even let out a little low-toned nervous chuckle...?? Yeesh. 😮‍💨

Chevalier Michel – Overstimulation/Edging

Chev loves to have the power! He loves to make you squirm! He thinks it’s hot but also it genuinely amuses him! Lol. What a monster this guy would be. He’s written in his route/canonically as having awkward, fumbling movements when it comes to romance/intimacy, but I’m sorry, I do not buy it! Sorry to you, Ikéwriters! You’re wrong! This dude is so confident it is almost scary! He would be so commanding in bed!! For real!! Like, he is perfect at everything and has read so many romance novels...??? Like he would be lethal??? Imagine him fingering you so deftly that you are about to come, and then he extracts himself from you so suddenly that your heart almost falls out of your chest, but you look up and he’s just smirking at you??? King Chev needs to unwind too okay!!

Clasvis LeLouch – Bondage

Another member of the Rhodolitian Sluts Committee! However, Clavis is a “gentleman.” He “respects” you or whatever. Haha, I actually don’t think he would be that kinky, but I do think that he knows his way around some rope lmao. He’s always setting traps! He’s bound to set a trap for you in your bedroom one of these days. And that trap would be designed in a way that some rope would happen to pull you up by your wrists, leaving you helpless and writhing like a little worm on a hook for him. What is he supposed to do? Not toy with your body and tease you until you come?? He’s so considerate though! Always just thinking about your pleasure... What’s the problem?? 😇

Leon Dompteur – Breeding Kink

Okay, don’t come for me, but I genuinely think that Leon is the least kinky of all of the princes. He’s so noble and so egalitarian that I can’t really picture him getting into sexy stuff that requires power exchanges or pain or too much tension even. There’s a world of kink beyond those things, of course, but he just reads like a sweet vanilla boyfriend to me! But! I can see him getting particularly excited by the idea of putting his babies inside you haha. He would come inside you one time and then not be able to stop thinking about the possibility of you getting pregnant—imagining your belly swelling up, your glow as you carry his child... he’d get all embarrassed by how much the idea turns him on! He’d sheepishly bring it up at first, but before long he’d be whispering in his husky daddy voice about how he’s going to fill you up with his seed. Teehee!

Yves Kloss – Food Play

I mean, chef Yves feeding you his delicious treats? Or eating off of your naked body? Treating you like his personal little buffet? Yves would be so sensual with this. He would get off on watching you eat, loving the facial expressions that you make while you savor something that he made just for you. He’d also be into eating off of you—whipped cream play comes to mind! He’d hand-make some deliciously sweet and fluffy cream, first putting it somewhere cute and innocent like on your nose and licking it off, and you guys would tease each other until he gets all flustered and frustrated and decides to put it on your nipples and your bare stomach and your fingers and... everywhere! He'll show you who can make who flustered!! hehe cutie Yves. 🤭

Nokto Klein – Exhibitionism

Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got another huge slut over here! Ugh, I love Nokto haha. He’s such a problem lmao. He wants the whole world to know that you are his and his alone. He also wants the whole world to know how hot and sexy you are! He’d take any opportunity to fuck you in semi-public. Or at least make out with you. He knows how to get you so distracted with his tongue, his hands, his murmurs in your ear... He’d be fingering you in the palace gardens or in a back corner of a ballroom before you even knew what hit you. He’d be all like “Look at her body, look how beautiful she is, haha but don’t ever touch or I will kill you! While smiling! Teehee!”

Licht Klein – Pain/Blood Play

(This kink is not for everyone! Proceed with caution! Also PLEASE be careful if you try this IRL!) Licht gives me masochist vibes. I can see him lying in bed with you, both of your naked bodies softly touching, you lightly running your fingers over his muscular arms, until he cautiously broaches the idea of you using a knife/small razor blade to make small cuts on him or a needle to pierce his ears or skin... You would hesitate at first, but after he reassures you and you see just how flushed and excited he gets from being at your mercy like that, you’d realize that it’s something he gets off on and enjoys. You guys would talk about it a lot to make sure that you’re going about it in a safe way! Part of the appeal for him is you treating his wounds afterward! He would only trust you with this activity.

Luke Randolph – Somnophilia

(All of this is consensual!) Luke loves to nap, and I feel like napping together would be a staple in your relationship. He loves nothing more than slowly fluttering his eyes open to see you lying next to him, still asleep. You look so beautiful and delectable, and since you guys have agreed that it’s okay—you even have a system in place, where you put on a certain bracelet or ribbon that signals your consent before you go to sleep (if you’re not wearing it, he won’t do anything)—he’d slowly slide his hand between your legs, trailing soft, wet kisses along your neck and collarbone while you’re still sleeping, gradually beginning to stroke your clit... the sensation of you getting wet while you only start to stir awake makes him hard as a rock, and before long you’d both be up and at ‘em lol.

Sariel Noir – BDSM / Impact Play

The Devil of the King’s Court!!! Oooohooohoohoo. Sariel, Sariel, Sariel... Hahaha, I can’t with this man. He definitely has a secret torture dungeon somewhere in the castle, filled with all kinds of beautifully designed whips and paddles and chains. You’d be his little plaything, no question haha. Sariel is for the masochist girlies lol. He would find excuses to “punish” you all the time, and honestly you would do the same—he would be so excited at the sight of your pretty skin getting redder and redder as he spanks you or whips you. He’d reward you for good behavior by making you come over and over again and being very sweet with his aftercare. Ugh, kinky king!

Rio Ortiz – Getting Fem Dommed / Puppy play

Biggest! Sub! In! Rhodolite! Haha. Rio is canonically referred to as the MC’s “pet” or “mutt” or “dog” across multiple main story lines lmao. And he would be such a good boy! Imagine his eager little face as you boss him around. He wants nothing more than to please you. You could be a mean mistress or a kind mistress, it doesn’t even matter! He’s at your beck and call no matter what. He’s your personal little bitch now, so use him! He likes it! Buy him a collar and leash and everything. He’ll do literally anything for his beloved mistress. Ugh, it would be equally fun to yell at him or reward him for his good behavior. Rio is the ultimate puppy material!

Gilbert von Obsidian – Total Power Exchange

(This kink is not for everyone! Don’t forget that Gilbert is pretty much a dictator! Proceed with caution! This is a consensual activity! Don’t put up with this shit IRL unless it’s thoroughly agreed upon!) Gilbert would love to control every single aspect of your life haha. He likes to see the anxious look on your face when you need something but know that you have to ask for his permission. Like, you even have to ask for his permission to go to the bathroom or eat food. He likes having all of your needs at his mercy. It makes him so horny for you. Of course, you have to ask for his permission on what to wear, who you can talk to even... Your entire life belongs to him, just like he likes it. Occasionally, you would do something without his permission and he would have to punish you!

Keith Howell – Wax Play

My thinking here is that wax play would appeal to both “Keiths.” Dark Keith would like it for the danger/tension and Kind Keith would like it for the softness/sensualness of it after the wax dries. They would go about it in different ways. Dark Keith would hold you down and pour hot wax over your most sensitive areas, making you yelp. Kind Keith would slowly drip wax along the less intense erogenous zones, like your collarbones or feet, then sweetly peel it off of your naked body. The temperature play aspect of it would be really exciting for him, and he’d love to praise your beautiful soft skin after it’s been dipped in wax.

Silvio Ricci – Getting FinDommed

This kind of breaks from MC’s canonical attitude toward Silvio and his wealth, but this is what is in my heart lol. Silvio likes a brat! He’s a tyrant and has a difficult personality, but he actually likes it when someone doesn’t back down from him. He’s so used to getting whatever he wants, the idea of being at the mercy of his little bratty baby's whims and needs would be so thrilling to him. Literally he’s your wallet now. He’s the richest man in Benitoite! Take advantage of him! He doesn’t get a choice. He's there to buy you new clothes, new shoes, as many treats as you want, a new house even! He’s got the money, babe! And that money is YOURS now. Not his. Muahahaha. 😈

[xxsycamore]

❝ 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ❞

╰┈➤ 💜 Clavis seduces Emma in a bunny suit so she can finally pop his cherry.

Clavis Lelouch x Emma • rating: E (MDNI) • tags:Bunny Suits; Bunny Ears; bunny tail; that one Clavis card; Virginity; Virginity Kink; Making Out; Sloppy Makeouts; Dom!Emma; sub!Clavis; Femdom; Neck Kissing; Biting; Groping; Premature Ejaculation; Coming Untouched; Coming In Pants • wordcount: 1,495 • masterlist

"Welcome home, Emma. I've been waiting for you."

The wave of shock that washes over Emma's being brings forth an unmistakable familiar and dangerous warmth that traverses from her cheeks straight down to her nethers. It doesn't leave her time to breathe, to think, yet the words still manage their way out.

"Clavis, what are you wearing?"

Hand still on the doorknob, Emma's eyes are cast down low, at the figure kneeling on the floor. Clavis' tall, slender form is clad in a tight suit, squeezing his flesh in all the right places. Clavis lowers his head as if desperate to rub himself all over her legs, showing the joy of a domesticated animal welcoming his owner home, and in the act, a pair of long faux ears brush past Emma's frame. From the position he's taking on the floor, she can see the star of the outfit - an obscene protrusion on his rear, white and fluffy. A bunny tail.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm your little bunny in heat. I'm beginning you to finally, finally take me."

Emma's blood runs hot, fingers curling inwards until she can feel her own nails dig into the inside of her palm. It emphasizes their positions on the spot. She has claws, and Clavis is soft, pliant, vulnerable, practically begging. She can do whatever she wishes with him.

His methods of seduction are an incitement to riot, as she barely needs stimulus to desire him. Yet Clavis puts on so much effort for her. He moves his body alluringly in a way he's never done for anyone; he gazes at her in a way he's never gazed at anyone. The littlest things about him are enough, all those things he doesn't even suspect are erotic, so how is she to endure the current situation?

"On the bed, Clavis."

The man on his knees smirks as he obediently bows, turning around to comply with her wish. Emma's eyes follow his rump. Of course they do. He gives her so much to look at.

She'll have to give that tail a little squeeze later.

Emma follows him to the bed and climbs up, signaling for Clavis to come closer. He sits on the place between her legs, leaning slightly backward as he props himself up with a hand, chest puffed out. Ready for her next move.

Emma reaches two greedy hands to grasp his waist, and she pulls him in closer, letting his scent engulf her completely. Has he always had such a perfect waist? It's not tiny enough for her hands to properly enwrap it, but rather just enough to desperately try to tighten her hands enough to fit more.

"Kiss me, Clavis. You know how to do this much, right?"

Way better than a virgin does, she refrains from adding, for the sake of her own composure. They've made out before, but never took the next step. The amount of heated kisses they'd shared had been enough to see Clavis become bold and risqué in his need for more, often kissing her breathless. The bulge in his pants has always been alluring but it's never been quite the time or the place. Partly because Clavis has a penchant for being at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

His lips are now planted against her own, and he already begins with his game. No time for lovey-dovey kisses, even if they're to his liking as well. His tongue slips between Emma's parted lips, making his way in, provoking her. It turns her rasped breaths into moans, and she doesn't mind it even this early on. If she's being vocal, he'll start being vocal too. For the time being, she lets him lead the kiss. It's almost like he shows what he wants to be done to him in return, she thinks. Although he's a gentleman through and through. His demonstration simply can't be as true to his desires.

He withdraws, and keeps his mouth open, tongue poking out. Emma doesn't wait for the thin thread of saliva between them to break; as long as he took a breath he should be fine for continuing where they left. It's like they never stopped the kiss that way.

She takes it easy on him when she takes the lead, dragging her tongue on his plump lower lip as if asking for entrance. It humiliates him a little, as if they're still not past this stage, as if he needs that - but strangely it's only lust he feels as a response. He answers properly to the gesture, obediently parting his lips to be penetrated, and Emma slips her tongue in.

"Nngn…"

Emma takes notes of all the little things that push Clavis' buttons; like curving her tongue to caress the underside of his tongue, or withdrawing to scare him with a too-early end of the kiss. She wants to learn more and more about how he wants to be kissed, touched, loved.

"Haah… haha.. You can get more handy than that, Emma."

He needn't say more. Emma's hands move from where they've held Clavis' waist, leaving unmistakable warmth behind as their imprints, and they travel up his back. Emma traverses it with hands alone from one side to the other, measuring him up, taking note of the hard places of him just like the soft ones, following the curves of his shoulders, the dips of the junction between them and his neck. It's an endearing gesture, until she cards her fingers through the short purple hair on the back of his head, upwards, taking both of his sleek black bunny ears in her grasp.

He doesn't feel the tug in the way an actual appendix would, of course, but his groan is sincere, and the action successfully makes him tilt his head back to reveal his slender neck.

Emma leaches on it, her glistening lips wetting his neck as she sinks her teeth into the column of his neck. He's so weak to neck kisses, she can practically feel him get hard where they're pressed body to body.

Leaving only one hand on his head, she lets the other one get playful and travel back down. The moment she's past the leather of his belt, Clavis' body rocks forward, and his rear lifts off the bed. He's on his knees now, between Emma's parted legs, arms snaking around her shoulders for support as she keeps kissing and nibbling at his neck.

With his behind now in full reach, Emma gets bolder, squeezing and groping his rump, the back of his thighs, and finally his fluffy white tail. It makes a little wicked smile bloom on her face. She lacks all of those adorable assets, yet Clavis sees her as his little bunny. She understands now, both the endearment and the lust behind it. Though it's a little scary that they've both become like that - with carnivores and prey it's quite linear. They devour until they're sated. With rabbits, well, Emma knows what people say about rabbits.

Clavis moans now, open and vulgar, and each vocalization of his arousal makes his Adam's apple move where Emma can feel it under her lips. It makes her see hot-white behind her eyelids that fell closed amidst it all. She wants to be locked in that tango forever; to see how Clavis gets worse and worse, until they finally cross that line, to take and take from each other until there's nothing they haven't done to the other.

"Ahh-- Nghh!" Clavis' head trashes, and it makes Emma's sucking at his skin a little difficult as her lips begin to miss their target. She makes him stay in place again, nails biting on the fabric of his suit, pressing him closer to her. His moans become hopeless now, and she feels proud of herself, just a tad curious which part made him like this. Clavis riots in his flesh restraints again, though he can easily remove himself from her grasp with his strength alone. She lets him have his breath, letting go and catching a glimpse of his face that she began to miss.

He's a mess, cheeks flushed red, hair disheveled, and faux ears askew and flopping to the side. Although he pants heavily, he finds it in himself to smirk. It's a rather mischievous one; not the kind to signal achievement of his goal but rather that he's done something forbidden.

"Nnnh…You handled your bunny a little too rough and he creamed his pants."

Eyes widening, Emma feels a fresh wave of arousal wash over her as the words sink in. She's stunned, a little guilty, a little curious… but as her gaze shamelessly shifts to his trousers to see a little wet spot on the front of his still-tented crouch, she's sure she's never seen anything more erotic in her life. She wets her lips to speak up.

"Looks like my little bunny in heat will stay a virgin for a little longer."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @g-kleran   @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @princess-pray-a @aceuuuuu @claviscollections Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[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.

[violettduchess]

A/N: An entry for my super neglected but not forgotten Afterglow series.

Chevalier x Reader

WC: 500

The starlight behind your eyelids begins to fade. Breathing in deeply, you feel the way your wild pulse slows, the red frenzy of passion dissolving into the blushing pink of contentment. You become aware of the soft pillow behind your head, the weight of the blankets that he is now carefully pulling over your naked body to keep the chill away. The back of his knuckles brush your hips and you marvel at how just a few heartbeats ago, those strong hands were holding you there, gripping you like a lifeline. 

The only light in the room is the soft silver glow of the full moon. Not enough for him to be sure by sight alone. He reaches for you, pulls you close against him, the motion almost awkward in its haste. His hand slowly begins wandering the lines of your body, making sure not to disturb the blankets. It takes you a moment to understand what he is doing. His touch is cool and calculated, a sharp contrast to the sparkling paths of heat his fingers had not long ago been blazing across your skin.

“I’m fine,” you finally say, your hand resting on his chest, your head tilted upward to look at him in the pale moonlight. “Really.” Your voice is gentle but assured. He did not hurt you in his eagerness or the ferocity of his need. 

You’re not a fragile blossom easily torn apart by a storm. You can stand in the hurricane of his desire and meet it, head on. With a smile.

Chevalier’s hand stops on your lower back and remains there, his palm pressed against your skin. There is something shockingly intimate about being touched just there. And something so casually possessive in the gesture as well. Another hand may touch you here above your clothing, perhaps while dancing, perhaps while helping you navigate your way. But no other hand but his will ever touch here beneath it.

“Sleep.” His voice is low and quiet. The word may be a command but when he speaks to you, it feels round, soft, gentle. A tone that you and only you can bring out of him, a certain warmth that creeps into his language. A warmth born of the steady fire that you have kindled in his heart, twin flames of his affection and love for you and all that you are to him.

You sigh, a sound that reminds him of the flutter of a nightingale’s wings, and then lay your head against his strong shoulder. His scent surrounds you, crisp and comforting all at once. 

This is peace. This is home. This is all you will ever need.

It’s only when you’re standing on the ocean’s edge of slumber, about to plunge under the waves of dreaming that you feel him shift. A moment later, your forehead is anointed with a kiss, off-center and quick, but a kiss all the same.

He is at peace. He is home. You are all he will ever need.

When sleep pulls you under, you’re smiling.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @aria-chikage @tele86 @writingwhimsey

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[ikeprinces-stuff]

Event : Leon Dompteur sequel route release

Host : @aquagirl1978

Characters : Leon x Reader

Words : 1414

A/N : My first entry to the event, a day early before the start time, pls don't mind me, Aqua ✨❤️🤣 the one who'll get deeper to what inside the story is the smartest fella!

Day 1 - “Love : Who/what does Leon love? what does love mean to him?”

Love can take on numerous interpretations, shaped by individual perspectives and experiences. For some, love serves as a coping mechanism, while others might use it as a justification for actions that stray far from its essence. Conversely, many view love as a beacon, a source of joy, and a guiding force in life. The unique love discovered by the King of Beasts was particularly exceptional; it prompted him to reconnect with a part of himself that he believed he had eradicated long ago, unaware that this hidden self had been quietly residing within his lonely heart.

This newfound love acted as a catalyst for his journey towards authenticity, allowing him to emerge as his true self rather than merely playing a role cast by others. After nearly succumbing to the depths of his solitude and despair, he found solace in the presence of someone who shone like a warm ray of sunshine, nurturing him back to life and helping him rediscover the essence of who he truly was.

“Nothing will change the man I know, you will always be you.” Even after all this time, the words still resonate in his mind like the enchanting sound of bells—melodic and timeless. He finds himself replaying them over and over, especially when he’s with you, the one who spoke those cherished words. They linger in his thoughts, a beautiful reminder of that moment, evoking feelings he never tires of reliving.

"‘As she departed from the barren place she once called home, she resolved to embark on a journey through the kingdoms, in search of the truth... answers... about her own identity. Throughout her life, people have regarded her as charming, resolute, and adept at winning hearts with her personality and deeds, almost effortlessly.’" You read the passage attentively, your place nestled in your king's embrace on the bed, as if sharing a bedtime story. "You know, Leon?" you called out, catching his attention, which shifted towards you with evident curiosity. "This heroine reminds me of someone. She has a way of captivating people instantly, with an irresistible charm." You shot a teasing glance at Leon, prompting him to chuckle. "I wonder who that could be?" he replied playfully, already aware of your intentions. As he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you closer, his actions spoke louder than words, reinforcing your point.

“Do you really think she’s like me?” Leon asked, his strong arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace, transferring warmth from your skin to your very heart. You let out a soft sigh, allowing yourself to lower your defenses in his presence. “Maybe not exactly,” you replied, sensing the intrigue reflected in Leon’s eyes. Earlier, you had drawn a parallel between him and the heroine of the story, but now it seemed you had shifted your stance. “What do you mean by that?” Leon inquired, curiosity evident in his voice and a playful smile dancing on his lips.

“Well, this heroine, despite her intelligence, beauty, and indomitable spirit… spent her life in solitude. She overcame challenges and fought against the odds, yet she did it all on her own. Though many admired her, she never let anyone in, never truly lowered her guard. She was surrounded by admirers, but her only true companion was her instrument—her intuition and her instinct for survival.”

Leon was taken aback by your in-depth character analysis, recognizing its precision, poignancy, and underlying sadness. Even though the character was fictional, he felt a sense of connection. Despite being constantly surrounded by supporters and admirers, he too often felt the grip of loneliness. In a way, he and that heroine were linked by their shared struggle with solitude.

“Maybe it’s just that she hasn’t discovered what could liberate her from her loneliness yet,” he mused, his voice tinged with a softness that hinted at deeper thoughts. Glancing at him, you noticed his gaze was fixed not on the pages before you but somewhere far away, filled with a mixture of sadness and affection.

“She’s lost, you know,” Leon continued, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. “Without any hints of her past, she learned to build walls, never trusting anyone. She was a shadow of herself, unable to open her heart.” As he spoke, you caught a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, as if he were recollecting an intimate part of his own life. Your hand instinctively reached out to his cheek, caressing it tenderly. To your surprise, Leon leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as he reveled in the comfort you offered.

“You and this heroine are quite different, though,” you chimed in with a playful smile, watching him react with a mischievous glint in his now-opened eyes. “You’ve been quite the wordsmith lately, haven’t you?” You laughed lightly, before continuing, “While I can see why you might see similarities, let’s be real here. You said she couldn’t find a way out of her loneliness, but that’s not true for you.” There was a pause, a bridge of unspoken connections stretching between the two of you. “She couldn’t be herself with anyone. But you… you found me. You never had to hide who you are from me.”

Leon fell silent, and you could feel the warmth of your emotions swirling in the air. “When I fell in love with you, it wasn’t just affection; it was a desire to share this life, to ensure you’d never be alone. You’ve always told me that our love lets you be yourself, that with me, you can embrace the real you.” You felt a sense of resolution settle around you, as if the darkness that once surrounded Leon was slowly lifting, replaced by the bright light of acceptance and connection.

Leon locked his amber gaze onto you, an irresistible glint of mischief in his eyes as he snatched the book from your hands and slammed it shut, plopping it down on the bedside table. “Hey! I wasn’t done with that yet—Oooff!” The air rushed from your lungs as he nestled his head against your chest, arms wrapping around you tight. “Leon…?” You could hardly process it as he purred like a contented cat, radiating warmth and affection that made your heart flutter. “You’ve got this uncanny knack for making me fall head over heels every single time,” he murmured, grinning up at you.

Your surprise quickly melted into adoration. “Well, I hope that heroine finds something to chase away her loneliness,” Leon said, as your fingers gently gliding through his hair. “Someone who makes her feel free to be herself, you know?” Leon nodded thoughtfully. “Basically, she needs to find love, right?” you added, and he totally agreed. “I always knew you cared for everyone, but I didn’t think you’d extend all that compassion to fictional characters too,” you teased, a grin creeping onto your face.

“Hey, I just can’t stand the thought of anyone going through what I did,” he shrugged, still clinging to you like you were his security blanket. “If that heroine figures it out, it’ll mean she learns that being herself is all about love. And thanks to you, I know just what that feels like.” He looked at you, eyes glimmering with hope, and you couldn’t resist giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Really, all I did was fall for you. I’m not some great sage or anything,” you laughed lightly, but his expression was mock-serious. “Oh please, drop the modesty! Even if it’s true, I’m giving you all the credit anyway,” he shot back, settling on top of you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

With barely a moment to catch your breath, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, fingers intertwining in a dance that felt like pure magic. Just as you were about to get lost in the moment, reality hit you like a ton of bricks. “Ugh, what if I forget where I left off in the book? This is totally your fault!” You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Leon chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t sweat it! You won’t forget a single detail of tonight—especially when I keep reminding you how much I love you,” he grinned, capturing your lips again as you both dove into a world that was just the two of you, wrapped up in an endless loop of love and laughter.

Fin ✨❤️

Taglist : @violettduchess @the-bird-and-the-flute @lorei-writes @chirp-a-chirp @solacedeer @judesmoonbeauty @drachonia @wistfulwanderingone @candiedcoffeedrops @scummy-writes @rjthirsty @reborn-elven @candied-boys @leonscape @citrusmornings

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[le-chat-sofi]

Nokto: C'mon, MC can't be good at everything! Clavis: Yeah, who knows, she might be a terrible kisser- Yves: NO, MC is good at that too. Nokto:(ᵔ.ᵔ) Licht passing by:(O.O) Clavis:(¬‿¬ ) Yves:(＃＞＜) MC: My poor boy...

[wistfulwanderingone]

(Clavis Point-of-View)

Meeting in the Moonlight

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Clavis Lelouch, Cassandra (OC); Clavis X OC story AU

Tags: SLOW BURN, fluff, romance, Meet Cute, Humor, Intrigue

Summary: Clavis seeks a moment of distraction on a darkened balcony when he encounters a young noblewoman. Drawn in by her unexpected boldness, he finds himself curiously entangled in a captivating encounter that hints at something deeper—a game he suddenly finds himself eager to play.

Word Count: ~3700

Timeline: 4 years after Bloodstained Rose Day, 6 years before the "Belle" year.

A/N: Introducing my new OC paired with Clavis Lelouch, Cassandra, who has been carefully crafted for him specifically. (More details at the end of the post).

You can read Cassandra's Point of View here!

@dododrawsstuff @aide-falls You will hopefully enjoy this!

Meeting in the Moonlight (Clavis)

Clavis leaned against the balcony's stone railing, the cool night air brushing against his skin as he surveyed the quiet garden below. The palace—his playground—was a stage where he played the role of the troublesome prince with a devil-may-care smile.

But tonight, even his usual mischief couldn’t dull the sharp edges of his hidden pain. The familiar surroundings, once alive with his antics, now felt distant and cold, as if the very stones sensed the hollow ache he kept buried beneath his smirk. When darkness like this seeped in, his thoughts drifted to the places he least wanted to go. His jaw clenched, the pressure building as memories tightened their grip on his heart, making his breaths come shallow and strained.

He usually smothered the sharp edges of his own hidden pain, worthlessness, and self-hate beneath layers of humor and cunning. But tonight, the palace seemed to echo his emptiness, the silence amplifying the hollow ache he fought to conceal. Some nights, like this one, the darkness seeped in, filling the cracks in his carefully constructed facade. The thrill of his usual pranks and mischief couldn't chase away the shadows, leaving his thoughts to spiral back to the dark places they always did when amusement no longer held them at bay.

His expression hardened as he fought the memories creeping in, each one tightening around his heart until he almost forgot to breathe. And without those distractions, his thoughts wandered, inevitably circling back to the dark places they always did when the diversion of amusement faded. He grimaced, his jaw tightening subtly, as thoughts and memories seeped into his mind, snaking their way down until they coiled around his heart, squeezing it tightly until he almost forgot to breathe.

He pushed away from the railing, forcing a smirk onto his lips, a desperate attempt to reclaim the familiar mask. But tonight, it felt brittle, like glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch. He despised the feeling of vulnerability, the unwelcome reminder that beneath the charm and wit, he was just a waste of space haunted by the ghosts of his past, a mediocre fool who couldn’t entirely escape the shadow of the monster he was destined to serve his entire life, or the memory of his mother’s tragic end.

The creak of the door to the room broke his dark reverie, and he slipped into the shadows, needing time to reconstruct his facade. There was the soft click of the door closing and then a swift rustle of fabric and movement toward the balcony. 

He pushed away from the railing, forcing a smirk onto his lip just as the creak of the door to the room broke his dark reverie, He recognized her—a young woman he’d seen around the palace a few times with Yves and Licht. She was a beauty, that much was clear, but there was something else about her that caught his eye. She wasn’t like the other courtiers, who flaunted themselves openly. No, she was more...restrained, carrying herself with a quiet grace that suggested there was more to her than met the eye.

Tonight, she crept toward his balcony like a thief in the night, her eyes darting back to the door with quick, uncertain glances. That alone was intriguing enough to warrant his attention. But then she stepped outside and closed the curtains behind her, clearly trying to hide. From whom? The corner of his mouth lifted, a faint spark of curiosity ignited—nothing more than a passing interest, really, but enough that he wanted to have a little fun and distract himself. This was just the escape he needed.

She wasn’t smiling, but there was a hint of it lingering in the soft curve of her peony-pink lips.  A single flower tucked into her brown hair added a touch of whimsy to her otherwise poised appearance. 

But it was her eyes that truly caught his attention. They were striking, almost luminous in the moonlight, a vibrant green, like emeralds catching the light. There was a spark in them too, a hint of a fire that wasn’t quite quenched despite her current predicament.  Intriguing, especially since she was clearly trying to stay hidden, her breath held as if even the air might give her away.

He let her have a moment, watching as she pressed herself against the wall, her eyes closed, her expression softening as she took a deep breath as if seeking refuge. But Clavis couldn’t resist the urge to stir things up for long. He stepped forward moving silently until he was close enough to see the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

Leaning in, he let his voice drop to a husky whisper. "Are we playing hide-and-seek?”  he murmured against her ear. “Or are you here for a more intimate rendezvous?"

The effect was immediate. She gasped, spinning around in a startled panic, her wide eyes locking onto his with shock. She stumbled backward, nearly losing her balance before catching herself against the railing. Clavis couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him as she struggled to regain her dignity. The delightful reaction was exactly the kind of amusement that made his little games worth playing. "I apologize for startling you,” he said, keeping his tone light and carefree, his demeanor disarming, as if trying to ease her into a false sense of comfort. “I was only teasing. Are you alright, young lady?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, her hands smoothing the silky pink fabric of her skirt, as if that simple gesture could restore her lost composure. There was a musical lilt to her voice, something sweet and entirely feminine. “I was just hiding from…” She trailed off, her gaze squinting into the darkness, the dim light playing in his favor. “What I mean is I didn’t want someone to see me.” Her voice carried a slight edge, uncertainty lacing her words, as if she wasn’t sure she could trust him. And how could he blame her? She shouldn’t trust him.

He raised an eyebrow, though she couldn’t see it. "May I ask who? I'll need a name if I’m to be a gentleman and defend your honor.”

Her gaze flickered to his, lips parting as if words teetered on the edge of being spoken, before she pressed them together again, the silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. Most nobles were quick to offer up polite lies or excuses, but she seemed different—more honest or perhaps just more flustered.

She turned elegantly, casting a glance back toward the curtains, as if ensuring their privacy. “I’m hiding from that big creep, Jin.” 

A low chuckle escaped Clavis's lips before he could stop it. Her straightforwardness was a refreshing surprise. "You know he's a prince, right?" he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to poke a bit of fun at the situation.

"Just because he's a prince doesn't mean he isn't a huge creep!" she retorted, the honesty in her voice paired with a spark of defiance that immediately caught his attention.

"Be that as it may, he's still a prince." Clavis found himself stepping closer, though he didn’t entirely know why.  Perhaps it was the way she stood her ground, unflinching, or the boldness with which she dismissed Jin, ignoring the usual decorum. Whatever it was, it piqued his interest, if only a little. 

As Clavis moved closer, he noticed how she tensed, her posture stiffening as she became aware of his approach. Yet, despite her apparent unease, she didn’t retreat. What held his gaze was the way the dim light from the distant lanterns gently outlined her form. The soft curve of her shoulders, the way her hair framed her face, and the slight tremor in her fingers as she tucked a stray lock behind her ear—all hinted at someone caught between fear and interest.

Their eyes met, his searching hers for a brief moment, trying to decipher the thoughts hidden behind those large, expressive green eyes—glowing faintly in the half-light. They seemed to search his own, filled with uncertainty and something else he couldn’t quite place. There was a depth to them, a quiet intensity that drew him in,making him linger just a heartbeat longer than he intended.

As he took in those details, he felt a flicker of something unexpected—a faint, almost imperceptible connection, like the first move in a game that had yet to begin.

Clavis watched her closely, noting the way her expression softened into a smile before she spoke again. The corners of her lips curved up, a small but genuine smile that seemed to brush away the tension in her features. Given the situation, it was a surprising response—a smile as if she had dismissed her fears.  That fleeting glimpse of her lighter side was charming him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. 

“Well, if the crown's crooked, I'll call it like I see it,” she said, her smile widening as she delivered the bold, humorous statement.

Another chuckle slipped from his lips, deep and velvety. Her candidness was unexpected and disarmingly endearing. Most people, especially someone he’d never met, would have kept such thoughts to themselves. The palace was filled with individuals too concerned with decorum and appearances, always watching their words for fear of who might overhear. Yet, there she stood, words spilling forth with a daring edge, unaware of the risk or the man who listened. Her smile and boldness slipped past his defenses, and for a fleeting moment, he found himself drawn to the enigma she presented, a spark of admiration igniting within him.

"Unfortunately, there are laws against speaking about princes with that kind of language," he teased, wanting to play with her to see what kind of reaction this little enigma might regale him with.

"I'm pretty sure 'creep' isn't on that list," she retorted, eyebrows raised in a challenge, daring him to prove her wrong.

"But...are you certain?" Clavis asked, his tone shifting to one of mock seriousness. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her eyes, her earlier confidence wavering.

"Well, no, but..." Her voice faltered as she peered into the shadows, her smile fading and the unease returning as quickly as it had disappeared. "Are you a guard? Are you going to report me? Or...hand me over to Prince Jin?"

“Now, that would be amusing," he replied, his chuckle low and smooth, its sound rippling through the night air. "And if there's one thing I'm all about, it's finding every bit of amusement life has to offer."

He saw the shift in her stance, the way her muscles tensed as she instinctively stepped back, clearly preparing to flee. Clavis acted instinctively, his hand reaching out to stop her. He wasn’t ready to end their game. His fingers closed around her arm, a firm yet gentle hold. Even through the layers of fabric, he felt the warmth of her skin, and how she froze at his touch, her breath catching sharply.

As he stepped closer, into the faint light of the moon, he watched her reaction closely. Her free hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in recognition as the moonlight caught the royal crest on his uniform—a subtle yet unmistakable symbol of his status. Clavis knew the effect it would have—he had seen it many times before. But there was something particularly satisfying in her reaction, her bright green eyes growing even larger in shock.

Yet, there was a subtle difference in her response—a shiver that ran through her, barely noticeable, but enough to catch his attention. He noting the way she stared up at him, utterly captivated.

He knew the effect he had on people—his charm, his looks—but there was something especially gratifying about seeing it work on her. The way she seemed both entranced and overwhelmed made him want to draw the moment out, to see just how far he could push before she broke the spell herself.

With a smirk spreading across his face, Clavis withdrew his hand and decided to make his next move. "Third Prince, Clavis Lelouch, at your service. The most charming of all the princes," he announced with a dramatic bow, his voice dripping with waggish arrogance. The way his words landed was obvious—the flush that colored her cheeks and the way her eyes darted away, flustered and unsure.

"You're... a prince?" 

Her stammered response was everything he had expected—and more.  The blush on her cheeks deepened as she struggled to steady herself under the weight of his gaze. It was almost endearing, watching her try to maintain some semblance of composure, even as she felt herself unraveling in his presence. He may not be the brutal beast, but there was a certain danger in him, and she sensed it.

"I...I didn't mean to offend...I mean, I didn't know..." she continued, each word growing heavier, her vulnerability laid bare in her wide eyes. She seemed exposed as if her insecurities were laid bare under his gaze. Despite her discomfort, she didn’t try to run away again, despite her obvious discomfort. Instead, she lingered, as if something beyond her understanding drew her closer.

Clavis waved off her concerns with an impish grin, relishing the way she hung on his every word. "Oh, don't fret, dearie," he said, his tone light and teasing. "You've added quite a delightful twist to my evening. It's not every day one encounters such refreshingly candid commentary on royalty."

She blinked, processing his words, her expression a mix of confusion and relief. "You mean... you're not going to report me or hand me over to Prince Jin?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Clavis chuckled. "Report you? Hand you over to Jin? What would be the fun of that?" he replied, stepping closer again. "No, I'd much prefer to keep this enchanting encounter our little secret." He placed a gloved finger seductively over his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t you?”

He noticed the way her eyes flicked to his lips, the brief shift in her expression betraying her thoughts. The faintest flush crept into her cheeks as she bit down on her lower lip, an attempt to mask her reaction. Watching her wrestle with unfamiliar emotions was a quiet thrill—the hesitant glances, the nervous fidgeting of her fingers, and the slight tremor in her voice all revealed her inexperience in this kind of game, making it all the more entertaining.

His grin widened and he leaned casually against the balcony railing, his posture relaxed, signaling her to step closer with a confidence he knew was hard to resist. With a playful tilt of his head, he asked, "So, tell me, what exactly did Jin do to earn the title of 'creep' from you?"

He saw the hesitation in her eyes, the sudden self-consciousness that overtook her as she glanced away, her gaze lingering on the moonlit garden below. It was almost as if she was searching for a way to collect herself before answering. "He's just...he makes me feel uncomfortable. I try to avoid him whenever I can," she admitted, her voice soft, almost as if confiding in the night itself.

"I see." Clavis’s expression turned thoughtful, though the playful glint remained in his eyes. “And it would appear you have a talent for discovering intriguing hiding spots. Perhaps you might consider inviting me to join your little escapade next time." As he spoke, he reached out, his fingers curling around her hand, gently drawing her closer.

As he pulled her closer, the tension in her body was palpable, her breath catching with the narrowing distance between them. A gentle warmth radiated from her, carrying a delicate fragrance that mingled with the night air—light, sweet, and almost intoxicating, like summer peaches entwined with the soft elegance of magnolias and a whisper of white tea. The scent suited her perfectly, though he quickly pushed the thought aside.

Her hand in his felt small and delicate, yet there was a quiet strength in the way she held onto him, as if anchoring herself in the uncertainty of the moment. He caught a flicker of something in her eyes—a tension, perhaps, or a spark of something deeper—though its true nature eluded him.

He felt her pulse quickened, heard her breath hitching slightly. He knew she was tempted, despite the logical part of her mind screaming at her to refuse. Clavis didn’t need to know her thoughts to recognize the signs—he had seen them often enough before.

"I... I don't think that's a good idea," she stammered, her cheeks flushing with a deep, fiery blush.

Clavis raised an eyebrow, enjoying the sight of her flustered state. There was something irresistibly charming about the way she fumbled for words, caught between desire and decorum. "Oh? And why not?" he pressed, his tone teasing but with just enough allure to keep her on edge.

"Because... because you're a prince, and I'm just... me," she replied, her voice wavering as she searched for the right words.

Clavis couldn’t suppress the amused smirk that tugged at his lips. She was right, of course—he was a prince, and that fact alone should have been enough to keep a proper distance between them. But propriety had never interested him, not now, not ever. There was something about her—something unique, a refreshing departure from the usual noblewomen—that stirred his curiosity. It made him eager to push the boundaries, to see just how far he could take things before she recoiled.

Clavis's smile softened, the edges of his usual mischief giving way to something a bit more genuine. For a moment, despite himself all he wanted to do was reassure and encourage her. "Titles are just fancy hats, 'Just-Me.' It's the head and heart beneath that count," he said, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity.

Cassandra’s lips curved into a smile, seemingly bewitched by some of his whimsical words—a smile that lit up her features in a way that intrigued him. There was something almost enchanting about the way she responded to his teasing. A gentle warmth unfurled within him, a rare sensation, as if he had briefly glimpsed something warm and beautiful beneath the surface of the dark, murky waters of his soul.

"Thank you, Prince Clavis," she said softly, her bright green eyes glowing as they met his. There was a dreamy quality to her voice, as if she were reluctant to break the spell. "I should probably go now."

"As you wish." Clavis straightened, adopting a more formal posture, though the gleam of mischief still danced in his eyes. He still held her hand, the connection between them not yet severed. "But before you depart, it seems you neglected to give me your name."

He noticed the blush returning to her cheeks, a clear sign of her ongoing fluster. The sight struck him as endearing—rarely did he encounter someone so genuinely affected by his presence, untouched by the court’s jaded games.

"Cassandra Bellerose.” Her voice had a gentle, airy quality, each word slipping out like a quiet, secret tune.

Clavis’s smile deepened as he considered her name. “Ah, Shining Beautiful Rose. How befitting.” The words rolled off his tongue with a smoothness that only years of princely training could produce. He lowered his gaze to their joined hands. He lowered his gaze to their joined hands, pressing a deliberate, lingering kiss there—long enough to send a shiver down her spine, a reaction he didn’t miss.

As he raised his eyes, he held her gaze with deliberate intensity, savoring the subtle shift in her expression. He knew the effect he was having on her, and he savored it, allowing the moment to linger just a little longer. After all, it was all just a game—fleeting and temporary, like everything else.

She responded with a graceful curtsy, her movements almost dreamlike, clearly affected by their exchange. As he released her hand, a faint tingle lingered in his fingers—a sensation that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

But he kept his smile in place despite the sensation. “Until we meet again, Lady Cassandra, and we most assuredly shall,” he murmured, his voice low, as if sharing a secret meant only for her.

Clavis stepped back, pulling the curtains aside with a smooth, practiced motion, his eyes never leaving her. As she passed, the soft whisper of silk brushed against her, but what lingered longer was the delicate scent she left behind—a blend of sweetness and florals—that teased his senses before fading away.

As the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance, Clavis lingered on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against his skin. Cassandra remained in his thoughts. She was different, no doubt, and the way she responded to him was unlike the usual reactions he elicited. There was a rawness to her vulnerability, an innocence that suggested something deeper—something simmering beneath the surface that made him wonder what lay hidden there—a mystery he found both intriguing and irresistible to unravel.

But even as these thoughts crossed his mind, a familiar resolve settled in his chest. Clavis knew better than to let his guard down. Intrigue was a dangerous thing, a double-edged sword that could cut deep if wielded carelessly. He had seen too many people crumble when faced with the tests he inevitably set before them. Tests designed to reveal their true nature and the flaws they worked so hard to hide. And to prove that they never truly loved him at all. It was a game he had played countless times, and one in which he always emerged victorious.

And yet, a small, barely noticeable part of him wished things could be different. That perhaps this time, she wouldn’t disappoint him like the others. But such thoughts were nothing more than fleeting foolishness—fragments of hope he had long since learned to dismiss. Experience had taught him not to indulge in such delusions, not to let his heart get ensnared in emotions that only ever led to disappointment.

No matter how charming or genuine she seemed tonight, he couldn’t afford to let himself be lulled into a false sense of comfort. He would have to test her, just as he tested everyone who crossed his path. And she would fail. They always did. And when she did, he would walk away, as he always had, with nothing more than a faint sense of regret and the satisfaction of knowing he had protected himself from the pain of attachment.

---

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first taste of Clavis and Cassandra's story. I have most of it planned out and lots written. It is a slow-burn, angsty romance, be warned. I will post a main landing page for their stories next!

Pairing Summary: Cassandra never expected her first encounter with Clavis to awaken a longing for freedom and adventure she’s always kept hidden. As their worlds collide, she finds herself irresistibly drawn to his untamed spirit, a force that promises to shatter the chains of her carefully controlled life. For Clavis, what begins as a playful curiosity soon turns into something far more serious as he finds himself captivated by the one person who sees beyond his mischievous facade. As their story unfolds, two hearts grapple with the freedom they both crave—yet fear to embrace.

[chirp-a-chirp]

Seeker

Fandom: Ikemen Prince; Characters: Leon Dompteur, Clavis Leouch, Carla (OC); Leon X OC story; Tags; fluff, angst, feels, a few spoilers/oblique references from Leon and Clavis routes, references to death and slavery; Word Count: ~1750

Synopsis: Leon seeks to talk to someone very important in his love’s life. Clavis hides his pain the only way he knows how. Also, introducing (in passing) an OC paired with Leon Dompteur who works for Clavis—Carla!

Folks who might(?) appreciate this fic: @candied-boys @katriniac @leonscape @x-daedalus-x @reborn-elven @ae-yeongmi @ikeprinces-stuff

…

“So, you’re abandoning my seeker? Not very heroic of you!”

Leon resisted rolling his eyes at Clavis’s dramatics and the unofficial title given to Carla. As Clavis’s assistant, Carla’s main job was to seek things. Some items were simply those Clavis couldn’t be bothered to find himself—test tubes, compounds for explosions, Sariel-sized nets. A job with no end given Clavis’s antics. But Carla also found things of substance—missing children from Bloodstained Rose day, reunited with their parents; jobs for former Obsidian citizens crossing into Rhodolite; surpluses of food for the Leochian orphanage.

Carla was a seeker. A seeker of adventure. Of ingenuity. Of hope. This vibrancy was among the many things that attracted Leon to Carla. And it was that vibrant hope that made Leon want to do things right with her.

“It’s necessary.” Leon looked up at Clavis as he prepared for his journey.

“But you still need to pitch woo to Carla!”

“I don’t wanna hear you say anything about pitching after the lake incident.”

“But I saved the diplomat from drowning!”

“After pitching him in the lake in the first place.”

“Irrelevant!” Clavis cackled, unrepentant. “But more relevant, you’re deserting my seeker!”

“No. I’m leaving to talk with the most important person in her life.” Leon wrapped his cloak about his shoulders.

“Ah, so me!”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Her father.”

Clavis inhaled loudly. He hid the rush of pain flooding his chest with a sharp bark of laughter. “Asking for dear old dad’s permission to court his daughter? How quaint!”

Leon stepped closer to Clavis, challenging the third prince’s mockery, seeing the truth behind the mask. “Not exactly. I want to tell him how I feel. The influence he’s had on Carla, the joy she brings. That though he last saw her in tears, she’ll live with a smile on her face. If she’ll let me.”

Clavis was silent for several seconds. “You’ll find it to be a very one-sided conversation.”

“I know. But still.”

Clavis’s gaze faltered at the resolute expression on Leon’s face. Clavis turned his head to avoid his stare and whispered, his mask briefly slipping.

“Tell her father I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm?”

Clavis whipped his head back to Leon, plastering a smile on. “I mean, tell him I say hi! You should thank me for distracting Carla while you go gallivanting without her!”

Leon huffed and began to leave. He turned around, hand lingering on the door knob. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

Clavis’s eyes rose in shock, the reflexive quip snuffed from his lips by the serious look in Leon’s gaze.

“Mr. Demandeur made his own choices. He chose a dangerous path—however noble. He made the choice to live that life—not Carla, not you.” Leon opened the door. “The consequences of that life are his and his alone.”

…

A lone rider trekked deep in the woods. The underbrush was thick with small saplings, broken branches, and rocks littering the forest floor. A horse stopped underneath a clump of mature trees; light filtered through the tree canopies, highlighting a meticulously cared for gravestone.

Richard Demandeur

Loving Father and Husband; Restorer of Freedom

The gravestone was the only thing not covered in moss, leaves, or other forest debris. Though the gravestone was several miles from Leouch, the reverence in which it was kept pristine showed the value the man had in life. A few conversations with the townsfolk of Leouch informed Leon that when Carla was not in town, Clavis paid for others to keep the grave clean.

Leon dismounted from the horse in silence, gathering his thoughts. The horse dropped his head, picking up on the solemnity of the moment. Three white roses were placed neatly on the ground by the stone marker.

“Hi. I’m Leon.” Leon knelt on the ground, lightly touching one of the rose petals. “I had hoped to meet you in person one day. Carla speaks of you so vividly, I didn’t know you were gone until recently.”

As a commander of soldiers, Leon was familiar with death. It was always in the back of every soldier’s mind—the notion that one day, you may never come back. That ensuring others security and safety meant risking your own. But he was trained for that life—as were the men that served under him.

Richard was not.

At an age where many considered slowing down, Richard sped up his life’s impact. In the last 5 years of his life, Richard and Carla had helped more than 100 people escape to Rhodolite—people seeking freedom, freedom from starvation, a slaver’s whip, Obsidian darkness. What he lacked in physical strength he made up in sheer determination and ingenuity (along with some well-placed Clavis traps) in secreting these people away from lives of despair. That bravery and idealism was matched in his daughter Carla, who joined him on his escape missions, and who worked afterwards to ensure these people were successfully integrated into Leouch into new jobs. Bakers, tutors, craftsmen, and their families were living their best lives thanks to a father-daughter duo who gave them that chance. It was an idealism steeped in practicality that especially earned from Leon his respect. And admiration.

“Carla misses you. She always will. I hope to be someone to help ease that pain of hers.” The forest was eerily silent—not even the wind stirred. It was as if the trees and all the woodland creatures around them were focused solely on listening to Leon. He continued.

“I’m another prince in your daughter’s life. No, not like Clavis.” Leon could hear Carla’s laughter as he recalled her stories of Clavis and Mr. Demandeur. Richard had been a willing tester of Clavis’s inventions—the smoke bomb, the tickling fingers that made a soldier drop their weapon, the invisible shadow that made one able to blend seamlessly into the night. The testing typically resulted in disaster—tar stuck for days in his hair, skin turning shades of purple and gold (“Can’t you at least pick colors that look better on me!” Richard would lament to Clavis and Carla’s delight)—but the moment the testing proved positive, Richard was the first to sing Clavis’ praise—and mobilize another rescue mission with Carla with those inventions. The Leouch inventions were integral to the rescue missions, and had a 100% success rate.

Until Richard’s last mission.

“I admire people like you.” Leon sat on the ground and peered at the gravestone as if it were a person conversing with him. “People like you give hope to those without it. To people like me.” Leon clinched his hands as he recalled his childhood—his true childhood, a legacy that never left him, the days that weighted on him like a stone attached to his back.

Leon ran fingers through his hair, shaking away the tendrils of bleaknesses that gnawed at him. “You see—I’m a prince, but I wasn’t born one. I was a slave—like some of those you rescued.”

Little by little, Leon spoke. Of hands raw from work; of a back aching from unhealed whip marks and stones hauled from quarries; of a belly so empty he ate moss to quell its rumbling. He had only told one other person these things—Carla.

“I used to think life would always be that way.” A series of unending days steeped in drudgery. “But then, I was given a second chance. A chance to change my life—by taking on someone else’s.”

Leon closed his eyes, picking up one the white roses. He slowly opened them before going on. “You see—I thought I had to earn that chance. And that the only way to do that was to become king. To become Leon Dompteur. To dedicate my entire life towards the kingdom that took me in for a single coin.”

“That is, until I met Carla.”

Leon paused, his thoughts drifting towards the woman he loved. His heart squeezed tenderly at the image of her in his mind—her skirt twirling as she danced with him, the way her eyes sparkled as she talked with townspeople, the mischief in her voice at modifying another Clavis trap. Her stories. Stories of freedom. Stories that made Leon feel alive again.

“Your daughter is wonderful. I know, I’m not telling you something you’re unaware of.” Leon laughed. “She’s vibrant, brave, caring, passionate about everything. And everyone.” Leon’s lips quirked wryly. “Well, not everyone I hope.” The horse whinnied suddenly as a large branch fell to the ground; Leon’s shoulders jolted at the sound.

“Hey, there’s no need for THAT.” Leon placed the rose on top of the gravestone, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “I said hope.” Leon tapped his knee with his fingers before continuing.

“With Carla, I remember who I am. She reminds me there are different ways to dedicate your life with meaning.” Seeking life in the everyday—tavern dinners, town dances, talking with shop keepers—and the extraordinary—daring rescues and escapes, free from royal confines and restrictions—was profound.

“With Carla, I’m Leon. Just Leon. And she’s taught me dedication can be to a kingdom and to a person.” The man Leon was when he was with Carla was the most genuine version of himself—a man of unwavering passion, love, and commitment. And it was something he didn’t want to lose.

The feelings that threatened to spill from Leon’s lips were so overwhelming it was nearly impossible to distill them into words. He settled for simplicity. Words tumbled quickly, flowing with a winding warmth.

“I love your daughter. So, so much. If she’ll let me, I’ll always be there for her. And carry on your mission alongside her. I hope you approve.”

The air stirred gently, leaves twirling and landing on Leon’s hair and shoulders. Sunlight flickered from the treetops, lighting the grave and Leon. Leon’s eyes widened before he smiled gently.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Leon got up and nodded at the grave. His lips lifted slightly. “Thanks Dad.”

Another branch fell on the ground nearby, scattering a flurry of leaves everywhere. “OK, geez! I guess I haven’t earned the right to call you that yet!” Leon’s voice cut the revenant air with a laugh. “How about Richard?”

A strong breeze picked up. A few branches swayed perilously overhead. “Mr. Demandeur?” The wind slowed down.

“Mr. Demandeur. Got it.” Leon mounted his horse. “I’ll bring Carla with me next time.” Leon glanced upwards at the trees. “And Clavis.” The wind died completely. A beam of light streamed down on Leon and the horse.

“Good. Clavis misses you too.” Leon rode away, parting with one final statement.

“We’ll make you proud sir. All three of us.”

[the12thnightproject]

@venulus

venulus asked:

Dear advisors, I hope this letter finds you well. I'm writing because I need your help. There's this wicked leopard who's stolen my heart and now I can't stop sighing, and dreaming, and swooning, and mooning over him. I'm lovesick and only he has the cure. He's a menace! The problem is I have no idea how to conquer his heart. Please help me! 🥺 Lots of love, the poor little lost puppy. 💜

Dear P.L.L.P.,

Angel, my apologies for the delay, as I needed to confer with one of my information sources.

[Hand raised - Moderatelyawesomesource]

[“Awesome sauce?” - Mai]

[“Would that taste good on pickled plums?” - GOOD OF WAR]

… who informed me that contrary to conventional wisdom, a leopard is not a female tiger (which would involve a different conversation altogether). My source assures me that although your leopard has a somewhat unconventional sense of humor, he is also a gentleman. As such, your leopard more than likely does not know he has stolen your heart.

Why would I make this assumption? A gentleman does not take advantage of another persons’ feelings for him. Therefore, were he aware of your feelings, he would either (a) tell you he feels the same way, or (b) gently and kindly explain that he is flattered (as of course any person would be flattered to be given your heart) but does not return that affection. If he is aware and has not done either of these things, he is not a gentleman after all.

Proceeding on the supposition that your leopard does not know how you feel and you at the same time do not know how he feels, what we have here are two sides that are equally matched when it comes to reconnaissance and information. Now, if you do not have access to a personal system of informants (and truly, Angel, I would advise you to perhaps create your own network, as my source states that your political situation is rather perilous), I suggest testing your gentleman.

[In battle.. YES. - GOOD OF WAR]

[No! - MAI]

[No…. But… Mai… theoretically, what do you think would be the outcome of a sparring match between Lord Kenshin and Chevalier Michel? - Moderatelyawesomesecretotomefan]

[Mai.exe has experienced a fatal system error.]

[Sasuke, are you implying I could lose? Do you remember what getting fired means? ~GOOD OF WAR]

While the battle tests suggested by my colleagues might indeed help you discover your leopard’s ability to protect you, this is not the type of test I was suggesting. Your leopard is mischievous, a man who is said to prize amusement above all else. Therefore, your tests should be designed to be amusing. Challenge him to a series of non-lethal games, use all of your intelligence and allure to turn the tables on him. Confuse him. Keep him off balance to the point that he is the one who is sighing and swooning.

Because I promise you this, Angel, one thing that entices most gentlemen, in fact almost every man, is the prospect of winning a woman who can keep up with every challenge, who -

[Why can’t she just tell him how she feels? - Yuki.]

[Because this method is more amusing, which is what the target prizes. - Tiger of Kai]

[I will never understand women. - Yuki]

[Yuki, in this case, it is about understanding men. - Tiger of Kai]

Angel, amuse, outthink, and confound your leopard and he will be yours… if after all that effort, you still believe him worthy. And if not, and you happen to find your way into my world, I would be more than happy to make you sigh and swoon and ensure that all your dreams are very, very sweet.

Best of Luck,

Tiger of Kai

This is not all that Art of Love has to offer. Check out @lorei-writes for the God GOOD of War’s answer to your question.

Note: text from Kenshin provided by @lorei-writes

[omkookie]

♡ Waking him up ♡

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Smut, somnophilia, oral. / Old draft. Not proofread 🩷

You watch him sleep, his face peaceful while he’s in slumber. His chest rises and falls rhythmically. You approach the bed and sit beside him, making the mattress dip under your weight. You wave your hand lightly before his face, and listen for any changes in his steady breathing.

He's indeed asleep.

He’s wearing a simple white shirt with gray boxers, and you peel the covers off of him further, revealing the rest of his body. He doesn’t react to you pulling his covers off even as the chill night air hits his skin. he remains sleeping peacefully.

He’s still lost in dreamland, even as your hand runs up his legs, and your fingers make their way into his boxers’ waistband. You tug them down his legs, and stare at his cock. You stroke it gently, hearing his breath hitch before it evens out again.

You rub his cock, focusing on his frenulum before you stroke him, resorting to stroking his cock gently, at a steady pace.

He shudders, his hips somewhat shaking as you continue to stroke him.

The room is dim, with barely any light seeping in through the gaps of the curtains, which are covering the moonlit windows, and as he opens his eyes groggily, he barely makes out your figure. He only feels you stroking his cock.

“Mhmm…” He moans quietly, closing his eyes again in content.

You peer at his sleepy face, Then lean down to press a sweet kiss against his lips. “I love you” He whispers, his voice sounding raspy, and making you smile as you look down at him.

He looked so cute. Tired, sleepy and defenseless… Allowing himself to be vulnerable before you. Your heart swells with affection for him all over again whenever you look at him like this.

He reaches down, wrapping his hand around your as you stroke him, and you tighten your grip around him. “I fell asleep…again” His voice comes out hoarse, “You did, But, I’m glad you’re taking rest.” You tell him, your second hand coming down to massage his balls.

“Mm…I didn’t want to fall asleep though..”

You give him a second kiss, and he opens his eyes to sleepily look at you, a tired smile forming on his face.

“Go faster”

You do as he says, and he lets out a pleased sigh.

“Fuck…” He whispers.

You lean down and tease his cock with your tongue, giving it little kitten licks while looking up at your lover to cheekily smile at him.

“Okay…” He chuckles, a small laugh rumbling through his chest. “You’re eager to finish me off.. When did you even start stroking me?”

“A short bit ago.” You answer before you take him into your mouth, and his hips tremble when he feels your lips wrap around his cock. “Oh…”

“Mhm.” You bob your head, making sure to drag your tongue along his shaft the way he likes you to, and you watch as a blush coats his cheeks, his face looking flustered even in the darkness.

“I’m going to cum…” He lets you know, His palm resting on your head to pet you, and you continue your ministrations on his cock, until his hips eventually buck into your mouth and he spills his cum on your tongue. A low moan escapes him, and you swallow his cum, making sure to continue giving his cock little licks, as well as a few strokes after he finishes.

“Fuck, that’s enough… I’m too sensitive.”

He tells you, making you finally stop and let his cock go.

He pulls you towards him by your hand, and you lean down to press your lips against his for a kiss.

“I love you”

[xxsycamore]

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

► "Do what you want with them sexy, but just so you know, no chance you can make me come just from that, alright?" "Can I do anything?" "Anything. They're all yours."

Jin Grandet x GN!Reader • rating: E (mdni) • tags: Breast Play; Suspenders; Rough Body Play; Muscles; Body Worship (Boob Woship); Groping; Nipple Licking; Nipple Play; Biting; Kissing; Pet Names; Established Relationship; Massage; Massage Oil; Overstimulation; Coming Untouched • wordcount: 2,404 • masterlist

a/n: This is it. A whole fic dedicated to showing Jin's boobs some love. And making him come by that. Enjoy. And Happy Birthday to Jin <3 (03/05)

"Do what you want with them sexy, but just so you know, no chance you can make me come just from that, alright?"

You eye Jin from head to toe; standing tall in all his big man beauty in that damn tight dress shirt with suspenders hanging for their dear lives clipped to his trousers. The sound of the key turning into the keyhole is listed among your favorite sex sounds, and when Jin does it, accompanied by this playful warning, all you hear is a challenge being posed for you. Biting your lower lip, you beckon him further inside the room.

"Can I do anything?"

"Anything. They're all yours."

You reach out and slide your index finger under the thin strap of his right suspender, pulling back as much as its elasticity allows. Then you release.

"Ow!"

The stretchy material reverts back to its original position, the slapping noise reaching to your ears seemingly before your eyes fixate the movement. But the spectacle ineluctably happens. Jin's tit jiggles from the impact, leaving you to imagine if it's only the slap that is at fault, or he flexed his chest muscles in response. You reach out for his left suspender this time, pulling it back just like the other.

"Starting off aggressively, aren't we?"

You look at his strawberry gaze just for a second, and it's almost begging you to be gentle with him, like a maiden's on her wedding night. But you know your lover better than that.

"You don't love it?"

"…I do—Ow-ow-ow!"

You don't wait until the words make it wholly out of his mouth until you punish him for asking for it so openly. This time the strike forces his remaining oxygen out of his lungs, making him inhale sharply once the damage is dealt. You observe the way his chest rises with the air intake, inflating like a balloon. The lower part of his suspenders withdraws from his taut stomach because of the curve that his tits make. Like two large mountains rising from the ground after a sizable tectonic collision. You want to be the cataclysm that rocks the ample mass of Jin's body.

It's not that fun when Jin knows what to expect… but after the third and fourth time, you start to notice even more cute things about him. The way he awkwardly balls his hands into fists and relaxes them, the expressions adorning his face… your head is all busy with the image of his man boobs released from the confines of not only the suspenders but the shirt too. Was the impact rough enough to leave marks? Is his skin flushed red on two glorious red stripes? There is no reason why you should hold back from finding out the answer.

"Ahh I thought you were going to slap them against my chest again…we're getting naked already?"

"YOU'RE getting naked."

Letting the thin straps fall to his sides instead of unclipping them, you start undoing the buttons on Jin's shirt. You nearly send them flying to all corners of the room, but the quality of the shirt handles your impatience somehow, saving Jin the shame of having to exit your room afterwards with torn apart shirt… though if you know him, he'd wear it like a trophy.

"Hey Jin…"

"Mm?"

You step back, admiring him in his full nude beauty from the waist up. He smiles at you in a typical "like what you see?" way, something that he's surely mastered…but maybe when it comes to some other part of his body. Sadly, your harsh treatment earlier didn't leave its mark on his skin. But you don't waste time moping about it.

"Do you think you can…make them juggle for me? Like, by flexing and relaxing your chest muscles? Pretty please?"

You observe the way his expression changes from smug to perplexed, but you truly have no evil back thoughts this time. You genuinely want him to do this for you.

"Uhh. Sure. Let me try."

Jin settles his hands on his hips, concentrating his strength on the task. He gets the hang of it quickly, the self-satisfactory smile returning to his lips.

Hypnotized, you watch as his pectoral muscles perform their lustful dance. Up and down, up and down, like two pendulums set at different frequencies. He finishes it off by raising his hands over his head, making different groups of muscles protrude before your thirsty gaze. He flexes his biceps as well, just for you.

"Can I touch?"

"Of course. That's why we're here."

You nod, reaching out to caress his bicep… but of course that's not your final destination. Just to make him happy you squeeze a little on his well-trained arm, but in the next second you're already trailing your fingers to his beautiful pecs.

"Mm.. So hard."

"Yeah? You like them?'

"I do." You answer in full honesty, fingernails scraping lightly across the broad terrain. "Relax them for me… I want to try squishing them too."

"As you wish, hot stuff."

Scoffing at the petname, you're already marveling at the difference. You can't decide if you like them more this way. You take handfuls of your boyfriend's tits, not hesitating for a second as you shove your face in the valley in the middle.

"Hah…" Jin is genuinely entertained by your enthusiasm, standing still and letting you have your fun. Initially, you're just letting your plush lips linger across his flesh, but you can't keep them at bay for too long - they're too eager to love him. Kisses rain across Jin's chest, tiny and tickling at first, as evident by your lover's quiet chuckles. Then you start being not so nice…

"Ouch. Teeth already?"

He surely didn't expect the attack on his nipple to come so fast, but you just wanted to tease him a little by pulling it with your teeth. You kiss it better, silently apologizing, as you move on to the other side, licking a stripe across his pec. Your tongue just so happens to arrive at the edge of his nub… and you suckle it a little, playfully as ever. You throw Jin a gaze that is full of question - is he comfortable with this, how much would he let you do? And the reply you get, communicated through gazing all the same, is making you smirk against his chest. He looks quite flushed, but also, quite aroused. Eyes half-lidded and darkened by lust, lips parting to allow more fuel for his well-at-work lungs… yes - now you notice - his heart really did skip a beat. You're quite close to it to hear, after all.

You hold one breast in your hand, big enough to fill your whole palm - and you put your lips around his nipple, grazing it with your teeth. You tease him a little before directly sucking on it, but it's rewarded by a moan.

Alternating between breasts, you toy like that for him for a bit. It's only when he stops minding the volume of his groans that you let go, cupping his face in your hands to give him a nice surprise kiss. He melts into it, eagerly giving you permission to kiss him breathless, but you're modest unlike how you french-kissed his boobs just now. Just because you need him in his right mind for a little longer.

"I'll need you to sit down for this next one."

Jin whistles, seemingly back to his normal self.

"I'm not that sensitive of a guy, you know."

You sigh and palm the tent in his pants, as if to remind him that you're not blind to the reality of how big of an effect all of this has been having on him. He's not particularly shy about his obvious erection, but refuses to address it either way.

"I know, I know. But please sit down for me, you haven't seen what I'm talking about yet. Handsome."

Jin smirks at how you called him, already obeying. He casually plops down on the armchair nearby, long legs stretched out and spread, as if making room for you. True, you'll take his kind offer and nestle yourself right inbetween. Just after you retrieve an item that you were looking forward to introducing into this lovely adults' play.

"What is this?"

"Rose oil. Haven't you seen these vials before?"

Jin snorts, feeling it useless to state the obvious. "What's that for?"

"For them." You pop off the lid, nodding at the direction of his chest. Before Jin can sigh, or laugh, or give you a look of disbelief, you tip-toe your way behind the armchair, missing his reaction.

"The idea has actually crossed my mind before."

"For your breasts?"

"No, silly." Jin breathes out, gazing forward and not making much effort to turn and meet your gaze when it's only going to get in your way. He patiently waits for you to apply the rose-scented oily liquid on his skin, preparing himself for the initial tingle of coldness. But you're more thoughtful than that. Collecting some in the palm of your hand, you discard the vial and rub your other palm against it, letting it soak around evenly. The rubbing of your hands creates warmth that you're eager to share with Jin. So that’s what you do.

"Oh, that's actually very pleasant."

"Mmhm."

Resting his head against the backrest, Jin allows his eyelids to fall closed, enjoying the way the sensation grows tenfold when he goes. It's easy to slip in a trance cast by your warm, skillful hands as they traverse across his toned chest. It's your voice that makes him snap out of it.

"Jin. Open your pants for me."

Puzzled, Jin blinks into consciousness, hands a little clumsy as they hurry to comply with your soft order. He's always ready to show himself in his full wanton, no hesitation about the way his cocks springs free in all its glory, diamond hard and happy to see you. Neglecting it makes you almost sad, but you choose the bigger entertainment while the power is still in your hands.

Jin hisses when the edge of your fingernail gets caught on his nipple. He's visibly surprised by the added sensitivity, the twitch of his cock giving him away.

"What was that? You like it?"

"Mm? Well. It feels good actually."

"Uh-huh…" You nod even though he can't see you, giving him more of the sensation. You trail a path with your finger, right across his areola, lightly brushing against his hardened nub. The rising and falling of his chest nearly comes in the way of your teasing, but you're concentrated. When your finger returns in the opposite direction, it runs directly over his nipple.

"Ohh…"

Jin's moans are music to your ears. With a wide smile, you breathe in and continue to toy with him. Adding the ministrations of your other hand to the mix, you start getting bolder, directly stimulating his nipples. It's slow and delicate at first. Then you circle around them, progressively adding more pressure to the point of pleasure.

"Hn- hey, I think we should-"

"Shh. Jin. Relax."

Groaning and chuckling nervously, Jin fixes the position of his legs, clearly bubbling with built-up arousal. His cock is painfully hard and leaking on his abdomen, the pearly drops already having pooled on it and connected with his shaft by a thin string of precome.

It feels too good to tell you to stop now, Jin knows this and you do him a favor by not letting him cut this short. This is the most important part now. You concentrate, wetting your lips that have dried by your own heavy breaths, without you noticing… you want to savour this moment to the fullest.

It's almost like you're hugging him in that position, you think. He's reclining so comfortably, and even though you've been leaning over him for a while now, you feel like you can spend an eternity keeping that position. He's nice and relaxed, though his long legs twitch lightly as if he's worked up. You know it's going to get even worse (better) from now on, as you tease his nipples again. But it's not the usual teasing now. Your index fingers curl ever so slightly under his nipples, and your thumbs come to rest on the upper side. You pinch, and twist. Lightly.

"Oh!"

Jin exclaims and it grows into a moan, his massive body lifting slightly from the chair. You don't want to give him time for rest now, or you'll risk the shock getting out of his system. You roll his nipples between your fingers, following the movement of his broad chest as he pulses, twists, and jerks.

"I'm-"

Before Jin can mutter a coherent warning, the overwhelming pleasure of you giving direct and continuous stimulation to his nipples, sensitivity heightened by the massaging oil, shoots through his veins all the way down to his cock. It feels too good - to not be denied of your touch until he can overindulge in it - and the coil in his belly snaps, much to his own surprise, leaving him to gasp and moan as he feels himself coming. Untouched.

The spurts leaving his cock are not as plentiful as when hours are spent coaxing them out, but they're vigorous enough to reach up to his torso. And even a little further than that.

You smile at the dirty display, trying to burn the sight into your memory. This and, the fact that you successfully proved him wrong about what he said in the beginning. Oh Jin.

"Well that was… that was something."

"It was, wasn't it?" You giggle close to his ear, mocking him for trying to sound cool as if he didn't just come from having his tits played with… You bite his ear playfully, using the chance of him being too stunned to act upon your tease.

Jin is not yet fully recovered from the mind-blowing climax he had when he finds your pretty face sandwiched inbetween his boobs. You're not here to play this time, you simply clean him off the semen that sticks to his skin. Once you show off your tongue, white with his come, he curses and pulls you in until you're practically on top of him, losing your balance but landing safely in his embrace.

"Hey Jin? That was very hot. I think I get your love for boobs now."

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[ikeromantic]

Trouble with a Capital C

A Cyran and Clavis story. Couldn't help myself. There might even be more of these . . . Approx. 3000 words.

This was a disaster. Cyran ran a hand over his face and sighed. The only way out was forward. With one last, deep breath, he straightened his back and held his chin high. Then he walked out to the garden.

The Belle sat at a table all by herself. There was food, of a sort, plated. Purple soup, a spiky looking pastry with a dark green filling, a possible tray of sandwiches - if the coarse, grey stuff around the blue filling was some sort of bread, anyway. Typical of a Clavis breakfast feast. Emma looked completely lost as she glanced from her empty plate to the offered dishes. 

“My Lady?” Cyran announced himself so as not to surprise her. 

She still startled a little as she turned to face him. “Oh! You’re Clavis’ soldier, right?”

“Yes, my Lady. Cyran, if you like.” He smiled.

“Then please, call me Emma.” She grinned back at him. “Did you come with a message from Clavis?”

“Er,” the prince hadn’t sent him with a message. Just an order to look after his ‘plaything’ until he finished with Chevalier. But that wouldn’t do. Not when the girl was wearing that expectant look. And Clavis HAD said something about leaving her on her own being ungentlemanly. “Yes, he apologizes for missing your breakfast together and ah,” Cyran paused, “would you like to grab something that’s actually edible?”

“Clavis said that?”

Cyran chuckled, “Well not the last part, no. That was all me. But, would you? I don’t mind.”

Emma nodded after a moment. “If it’s no bother?”

“Not a bit.” He took her hand as she stood. Up close he could not help but notice how lovely she was. Her smile was vibrant, her eyes kind. It made him feel quite suddenly protective of her. The palace crushed people with sweet natures, and that was without help from the noble beasts. If this girl was supposed to be the Belle, she would be shattered by the end of Beauty’s Time. And that would be a shame.

“Hm? You’re frowning, Cyran.” She squeezed his hand gently. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh! No, no, I was just thinking, would you rather dine in the great hall or the kitchen? The hall is fancier but kind of empty now that the king is dead. The kitchen is a little chaotic, but it’s a good kind of chaos.”

“I think the kitchen is fine. I’m not exactly interested in fancy.” 

“Kitchen it is.” He smiled back, tucking away his concerns. What happened to the Belle was really none of his business. He had enough trouble keeping Clavis in line. Or, well, out of the fire anyway. No one kept the prince in line. 

Thankfully, the cooks had leftovers for them, and after just a little wheedling and bribery, Cyran got them fresh bread, hot soup, and bowls of berries and cream. He brought the dishes over to a corner prep table along with hot tea. 

The Belle looked it over with a wide smile. “This looks amazing. I haven’t had a real breakfast since I got here.”

“Ah, sorry about that. You know you can always tell Prince Clavis no, right? You don’t have to go to his breakfasts.” 

She nodded. “I know. It’s just, he goes through so much trouble to cook all that food. And he’s bringing the other princes over so I can speak to them. I’d just feel terrible if I let all that effort go to waste.”

Cyran pursed his lips. “You realize he is aware of that and will use it to continue toying with you, right?”

“I know.” She sighed. Then she perked up. “I noticed you have a slight accent. It’s lovely but . . . I don’t recognize it. Where are you from?”

This was a question Cyran was quite used to by now, but one he hated all the same. Despite his years in Rhodolite, he’d never quite shed his mother-tongue. “I was born in Obsidian.”

Her eyes widened. “Really! What was it like there?”

“Very different from here,” he chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t have any interesting stories from that time in my life. Sorry.” 

Emma nodded, her lips turning down at the corners. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just haven’t met many people from there. Or, well, any really.”

Cyran shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I’m curious about you. What did you do before becoming Belle?”

For the rest of breakfast they chatted about books and the capital city, favorite foods, and music. It was the most relaxed fun Cyran could remember having since entering the Prince’s service. Emma was easy to talk to and she had a beautiful laugh. She wore her heart on her sleeve too. Every emotion flitted across her face like a banner for him. It was no wonder Clavis liked teasing her so much. 

“If you haven’t gone to the Solstice markets you really should,” the Belle was saying, “they always have the - the -” She stopped, her eyebrows going up. “Cyran, what time is it?”

“Hm, probably almost lunch. We’ve been here a bit.” He grinned. “Time flies when you’re having fun, hm?”

Emma paled. “Oh no. I was supposed to meet Sariel this morning to review the history of Rhodolite’s Belles. He is going to kill me.” She stood. “I am so sorry but I have to go. This was really nice though. We should do it again sometime.” 

“We should.” Cyran stood too. “I’ll walk you to Lord Noir’s office.” 

“Thanks.” She smoothed her dress and patted her hair. “I can’t believe I lost track of time like that.”

“I’m sure it won’t matter,” he reassured her as he led her back into the hall. There was no way they’d make it to Sariel’s office without Clavis intervening, so her fears of repercussions for being late were misplaced. 

She glanced at him. “No? Sariel seems pretty strict about these things to me.”

“Ah, yeah. He is. But it’s still technically morning, right?” He couldn’t tell her what he knew about his lord’s plans. Clavis wouldn’t appreciate it. And besides, Cyran wasn’t sure exactly how or when Clavis would intervene - he only knew that he would. 

“Hm. If you say-”

“There she is. And it’s nearly noon.” Sariel’s dry, sharp voice came from behind them. 

Emma froze in her tracks like a frightened rabbit. She turned to face the minister. “I - I was just on my way. To see you.” She cleared her throat. “It’s still technically morning.”

Sariel’s brow rose. He might have had some cutting response to that, but whatever it might have been was lost to Clavis’ sudden appearance. He came from one of the open doorways, head held high, eyes bright, and that cursed smile stretching his mouth wide.

“Emma! I am so sorry I had to leave our special romantic breakfast early! There was something I had to see too, but I’ve just finished and I knew you must be missing me. So here I am, the most handsome and gentlemanly prince in all Rhodolite.” Clavis took her hand and pressed his lips to it, then pulled her close against him.

Cyran held back a laugh as Sariel’s face flushed with anger. His master was always needling the minister. 

The Belle glanced between them, surprised and unsure how to react. “Prince Clavis? Can you ah - let go? This is a little too close.”

“Don’t be shy, beloved. I know you’ve wanted to be held in my strong arms. I’m happy to grant your wish.” He gave her a little squeeze.

“Enough. Unhand the Belle at once, hellcat. She has important lessons today.” Sariel’s voice stayed calm, though his eyes were daggers.

Emma nodded, trying to extricate herself from the Prince’s arms. “He’s right. I really do need to go study.”

“What’s that, my love? You want me to rescue you from a boring afternoon with the devil?” He gazed at her face, his golden eyes shining. “Your wish is my command.” 

Cyran knew what was about to happen. He stepped back, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth. 

Sariel took a step forward just as Clavis tossed a small glass vial to the floor. Smoke plumed up, thick and purple. The minister began to cough and then laugh. “H-hellcat!”

Clavis didn’t bother to answer. He was already out the window and on the narrow balcony. He leapt gracefully from there to the stairs and then ran down, cradling the Belle to his chest. 

Cyran followed, though he simply ran to the door and then down the steps. No need for theatrics, afterall. He wasn’t the prince. He caught up to them on the path to the stables, where, unsurprisingly, a carriage awaited. Clavis never did half-measures.

“Where exactly are you kidnapping me to?” Emma sounded a little put-out. Maybe more than a little. 

“A gentleman never kidnaps. I am simply escorting you, my dear besotted lady. No reason to pout. I promise I won’t leave your side for a second.”

“What if I really really want you to?” She glared at him. 

Clavis patted her hand. “Nothing could tear me away.”

“I’m sorry, Emma. He’s always like this. If you really need to go back, I can take you.” Cyran made the offer, earning him an annoyed look from the prince.

She took a breath, considering. “No. It’s fine, I guess. Sariel will still have those books when I get back from wherever we’re going. Do you know, Cyran?”

“What’s this? My little love-bunny and my favorite soldier on a first name basis?” Clavis nudged her chin so that she faced him again. “You can ask me anything and I’ll answer.”

“Sure I can,” she laughed suddenly, “but I think I’ll stick with asking Cyran if I want a real answer.”

Clavis’ smile slipped for a heartbeat before he pushed it back into place. “I thought you might like a little shopping trip.”

Emma nodded after a moment. “Well, I don’t mind a trip to town. But you could have said something ahead of time. Now Sariel is angry with me and Rio will be beside himself by the time we get back.”

“To be honest with you, my lady, the prince probably only just decided that was where we’re going. I’ll send word back to the palace once we stop.” Cyran shook his head ruefully.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She gave him a grateful look. 

The carriage let the three of them off at the central square. The city markets were here, along with several fine shops and taverns. Cyran hurried off to find a messenger to send back to the palace. He didn’t like leaving Emma alone with Clavis - not because the prince couldn’t protect her - just that Clavis drew trouble like honey drew flies. 

He found a guardsman in no time and gave him the message to relay. Then he fished in his pocket for whatever Clavis had slipped there when they got into the carriage. A note for their special drop location. Interesting. He hadn’t expected the prince to have anything to send out so soon. 

Cyran made the drop behind the shoemaker’s booth, wiggling loose an old brick and placing it back upside down. Nothing would look out of place unless you knew what to look for. Hopefully good enough to keep Chevalier and Jin out of the prince’s business. Sariel too. 

He always felt a little paranoid as he walked away from the drop, as if he had a sign on him pointing to his crimes. But he smiled and whistled as he walked, pretending he had not a care in the world. Pretending like he hadn’t just left a note that could end in a hanging if the wrong person touched it. 

Apparently, he should have hurried a bit faster. When he caught up to Clavis and Emma, they were arguing at a clothing stand. It was a little ready-made tailor shop with styles out on a rack for customers to try. Whatever they picked, the design would then be made to size and delivered.

“I’m not wearing that, Clavis!” 

“What’s that? You said it’s so perfect you don’t need to try it on? I agree! Let’s have the tailor take your measures.”

Emma stomped her foot. “I said no! Why won’t you listen to me? No, no, no!”

The item in question was a short skirt with a slit in the thigh. It didn’t look like the kind of outfit Emma would ever wear. She seemed to prefer demure, cute outfits to seductive, mature ones. And this skirt was . . . well, it would look cute on her, Cyran had to agree, but if she didn’t like it - he cleared his throat. 

“Ah! There you are Cyran. Tell our Belle how perfect this is for her. Don’t you think she’d look delicious in this?”

Emma threw him a pleading glance, one that begged him to say the absolute opposite. 

Cyran felt firmly wedged between two terrible choices. Annoy his boss or piss off the beautiful girl. 

“I have to agree with you, sir. The skirt would look amazing on her. I’m sure your brothers and the other nobles at court would not be able to look away. Especially if we paired it with -” he skimmed the rack for a revealing top and pulled it out, “-this in a matching tone.”

Emma’s face flushed, clearly imagining herself in the tiny garment. 

Clavis was clearly imagining the same. His eyes brightened for just a moment, then he slid the skirt back onto the rack. “If the lady doesn’t like it, I, as a gentleman, cannot ask her to wear it.” He sighed, his disappointment completely hidden by his bright smile.

Cyran wondered if Emma could see past it. Sometimes, she seemed to have a sense of his real feelings and other times, completely unaware. For Cyran, it was easy to read between the lines. He’d been around the prince long enough to know how to distinguish the slightest tells from his public mask.

The Belle let out a breath and reached out to squeeze Cyran’s hand. “Thanks,” she mouthed silently.

“If you don’t want any clothes, then let’s shop for something else. What can I, the man you love, buy you today?” Clavis studied her face but didn’t give her time to answer. “Ah books! Yes. There is a book stand near the grocery I get my supplies from. Let’s go.”

And just like that, he was leading her away, his arm looped with hers. 

“You aren’t the man I love,” she grumbled as he tugged her along. “I barely know you. And as far as I can tell, you’re the opposite.”

“I know. You never could have imagined being so lucky as to catch my eye. If you don’t love me yet, I know you will fall in love soon. You won’t be able to stand against my charms.” Clavis laughed. 

Cyran followed quietly, watching. He hoped Emma held onto her heart. She wasn’t the first woman to attract the prince’s interest. None of them lasted long though, and there were always tears. He didn’t want that for her. 

At the bookshop, Clavis bought her several of the tomes she asked for, but slipped in a book of ribald plays hidden in a history folio. That would be a surprise for the Belle for sure. Nothing like expecting a dry history text and getting dick jokes instead. 

After that, they headed to a tavern for drinks and dinner. Or, that was the plan. As they passed through one of the narrow streets, three men approached them. They looked less like back-alley toughs and more like mercenaries. Perhaps some paid merchant guards, off duty now, and looking to have some ‘fun.’ Sadly for them, Clavis also liked to have fun.

“What a pretty set,” one of the men said. “A sweet little girl, her soft little man, and a fancy little escort.” 

“Just like I like ‘em,” the fellow beside him laughed. 

The third man grinned. “Why don’t you two hand over those bags? We’ll take your jewelry and any money too.”

Cyran stepped in front of them. “I think you all should be on your way. This is more trouble than you want. Trust me.”

“No, no Cyran. This is just fine.” Clavis smiled and pushed past him. “You want my money? I’ll happily hand it over.” He tossed a pouch into the air.

The third man caught it and immediately wished he hadn’t. A fine, purple, sparkling dust erupted from the bag, coating the man’s face, chest, and hands. “What? This isn’t money!”

“My mistake,” Clavis chuckled. “It must be one of these other bags. Hm.” He rummaged in his pockets.

“Enough asking nicely,” the first man growled. He and the second man surged forward. 

Cyran knocked one to the side with his sheath while Clavis tripped the other. The two men stumbled but one caught himself. He turned and pulled a wicked looking dagger from his coat. “Think you’re cute? Funny?”

“I do, actually.” Clavis grinned. 

The man ran at him. Cyran would have intervened, but he was making sure the one that fell stayed down. Unfortunately, both he and the prince forgot about the glittering purple merc. While they were busy with the other men, he slipped around and grabbed the Belle.

Emma let out a surprised shout as he grabbed her hair and pulled her to him. Then he pressed a blade to her throat. 

“Enough of this. Let my boys up.” The third merc’s voice was low and angry. 

“Of course.” Clavis held up his hands and stepped back. 

Cyran let go of his opponent with a snort of disgust. 

“Good. Now hold still. Georg, get their jewelry. Check their pockets.” 

“Don’t,” Emma told him. Her voice sounded surprisingly calm. “It will really be better for all of us if you just let them go.”

The purple-faced bandit laughed. “Willing to sacrifice yourself for them, eh? Don’t worry. We won’t hurt them much. Or you, as long as they behave.”

Cyran winced. That word. It wasn’t going to end well for these bandit-mercs anyway, but now? Well, these guys deserved it. Holding a woman hostage was a coward’s tactic.

“I always behave,” Clavis grinned. “I am a refined gentleman.” 

He held out his hands. Then dropped a vial to the ground. It burst, leaving a thin, foul-smelling haze in the air. 

Cyran quickly covered his nose and mouth. 

The bandits collapsed. Georg, the one closest to Clavis, dropped first. The one Cyran was nearest fell next. The purple faced merc was the last to succumb. As he went down, the soldier darted forward to grab Emma.

He snagged her just in time, cradling her in his arms. She was unconscious as well, but breathing steadily. 

“Good catch,” Clavis called. He reached into his pocket to pull out another small pouch. With a careful gesture, he sprinkled the contents onto the men.

Cyran adjusted his grip on Emma. “Want me to report them to the guards?”

“No. I don’t think they’ll bother anyone else for awhile.” He tucked the pouch away. “Anyway, let’s get the Belle back to the palace. She isn’t going to feel very well when she wakes up.”

“Alright.” Cyran eyed the three unconscious men. “Itching powder?”

“A gentleman never tells.” 

The soldier chuckled. “So it is. Well, I hope they suffer.” He aimed a kick at one before following Clavis out of the alley. 

[ikeprinces-stuff]

Vernard : Beauty is the beauty of your soul, your kindness, actions and morals towards people, even if people sometimes don't deserve to receive this beauty of yours.

Romarin *looking at Vernard* : yeah... what he said.

(she's not sure what beauty is)

Answer in the voice of your OC...

[Name]! What is beauty?

Check pinned post for event details.

[ikeprinces-stuff]

Event: Falling For Fall Hosted by: @violettduchess & @lorei-writes Prompt: Gossamer (fluff)

WC: 694

TW : insomnia Previous prompt: Rain. Foraging. Moon. Gold Characters: Nokto Klein & Prince OC [Vernard Mürrisch] A/N: This was hard for me to write since it took me a long time to understand the meaning of the word 'gossamer' 😅

🕸️[𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬]🍂

The carriage rolled through the moonlit streets, the crisp autumn air seeping in through the slightly ajar window. Leaves, the color of burnt umber and crimson, danced in the faint glow of the streetlamps, their fragile forms like gossamer caught in a gentle breeze. Inside, Vernard, his moonlight-white hair framing a face etched with quiet weariness, leaned back against the plush cushions, a subtle sigh escaping his lips. Nokto, ever the picture of effortless charm, sat beside him, his silver hair gleaming under the dim light, his crimson eyes alight with a mischievous glint.

"My, my, Vernard," Nokto drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice. "It seems the ladies were quite taken with your quiet demeanor tonight. Almost as if they were trying to… whisk you away."

Vernard, never one for elaborate social interactions, simply dismissed the remark with a faint, "Nonsense." His jade eyes, usually sharp and watchful, held a hint of fatigue.

"Oh, come now," Nokto chuckled, sensing the other's desire to end the conversation. "Surely, you don't believe me when I say that your presence was quite the spectacle tonight."

Vernard, recognizing the subtle change in Nokto's tone, knew his brother was trying to gauge his mental state. He sighed again, a deeper sound this time. "I excused myself early. You didn't need to follow me back."

Nokto's teasing facade faded slightly. "I was simply tired of the festivities, so I decided to return." He paused, a hint of sweetness lacing his voice. "Though, one must wonder why such a diligent guardian chose to leave so early. Rest is crucial, especially before unexpected surprises might unfold…"

Vernard's lips tightened, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "One rests when one dies, Nokto. A guardian's duty knows no respite, no matter how tempting slumber may be. Eyes must remain open, even when the body yearns to close them."

Nokto's gaze softened, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Oh, Vernard. There's no need to encrypt your insomnia in such dramatic fashion. We both know that sleep doesn't come easily for you."

Vernard flinched, a subtle twitch of his right ear, his only giveaway of discomfort. He quickly scratched it, pretending not to have heard Nokto.

The silence that followed was filled with unspoken words, the rustling of the carriage and the whisper of autumn leaves. It was a silent understanding between the two princes, a bond of shared experiences, and perhaps, a touch of unspoken sympathy on Nokto's part.

Nokto continued, the teasing tone returning, though with a gentler touch. "You know, the palace residents are starting to miss your ever-present… organization. Leon, Jin, Yves, Licht… even Sariel."

Vernard's lips curved into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "I want them to get used to it. It's one of the reasons I find myself accompanying you and the rest to these… arduous endeavours."

Nokto chuckled, a warmth in his voice. "You say that every time you leave the palace for days on end, yet they refuse to let you truly disappear from their sight. They'll never quite understand your desire for distance."

Vernard leaned forward, his gaze distant, as if looking past the carriage windows toward an undefined horizon. "I will manage, Nokto. One day, the name 'Vernard Mürrisch' will be nothing but a forgotten echo. It's my ambition."

Nokto's smile faded slightly. He knew Vernard meant every word, the desire for anonymity, for escape from the suffocating palace life. But he only let out a light laugh, choosing to brush the comment aside, hiding his understanding and a flicker of concern for the other. He looked at Vernard, mirroring Licht's understanding way of seeing the world, a sympathy that only few could see.

The carriage finally pulled up to the palace gates, the sprawling stone structure a looming silhouette against the star-studded sky. The autumn air, now a tangible presence, seemed to hold its breath as the two brothers exited the carriage, and walked towards the palace, each carrying their own burdens and secrets.

The gossamer threads of their complicated relationship, like the fragile autumn leaves, danced in the uncertain breeze, a testament to the delicate and intricate tapestry of their intertwined lives.

Fin ❤️✨

[le-chat-sofi]

Jin: I know you snuck out last night, Luke!! Leon whispering near Luke: Play dumb... Luke:... Who's Luke? Leon: Not that dumb (눈_눈) Jin: (≧▽≦)