#ikepri fanfic

[rjthirsty]

Clavis Exhibitionism

Words: 2.1k

Tags: College AU, Sound Exhibitionism, Female Reader - Insert, PIV Sex, Creampie, Kinktober2024

“Perhaps we should be indulging in each other somewhere else.” Clavis offered as you snuck into his dorm room again.

Your very affectionate, very passionate, and very horny boyfriend somehow scored the room at the end of the hall, next to a fire exit that he'd let you in through, and the two of you had been making the most of it. To say you were fucking like rabbits was not far off. Every time you visited him you both ended up with your clothes stripped off, and utterly exhausted and pleasantly sore afterwards. Clavis had stamina for days. And you'd never been so taken care of before. 

“Wait, somewhere else? Why?” You went through the normal routine of removing your shoes and dropping onto his bed.

“The shifty fellow next door has made it clear he is aware of our activities.” Clavis shot a disapproving look at the wall he shared with his neighbor. 

That was quite the sentence. A multitude of emotions and thoughts simultaneously sprouted causing your jaw to drop and eyes to go wide as you turned to also look at the wall Clavis was frowning at. Your eyes darted back to Clavis and a surprised chuckle bubbled out from you as you tried not to grin too big. “You mean he can hear us?” You asked, stage whispering because now you're a little self conscious about being too loud.

“Apparently.” Clavis frowned deeper.

You bit your bottom lip, fingers covering your mouth as you touched your fingertips just above the peak of your top lip. It was shocking and delicious and kind of exciting and oh so very wrong, but incredibly bold for him to have said anything. “He's not going to snitch, right?”

“Oh, no. I don't believe that's the case.” Clavis answered, his golden gaze finally coming back to you. 

“Did he say what he heard?” Once again you bit your bottom lip, a devilish smile threatening to take over. 

“You're surprisingly inquisitive about this. Are you interested in that sort of thing?”

You set your palms on the mattress and give a small shrug with a playful head tilt, allowing the grin you've been trying to hold down to finally freely form. “And what if I am?”

Clavis’ lips quirked up in a teasing smirk. “Is that so~?”

He swept across his small bedroom to kneel in front of you, his low bed putting the both of you at nearly the same height. His fingers ghosted along the back of your ankles, sliding up your calves with the pressure of his touch increasing as he moved up your legs. “And here I thought you were an innocent one.”

You can't help but chuckle at his musing on your innocence. You were anything but. “We've all got something that excites us.”

Clavis’ hands pushed up your thighs, crossing onto your shorts where he hooked his fingers in the waistband. Eager for what was to come, you leaned back on his bed, resting on your elbows so you could lift your ass as he pulled your shorts and underwear free at the same time. He spread your legs and edged closer so he could sit between them. His fingers gripped your thighs, he had always loved your legs.

“What about you, Clavis? Doesn't the thought turn you on?” You rocked your hips from side to side, gently rolling your sex in front of him teasingly. “To know that despite our best efforts to keep me quiet, he can still hear how you make me moan. How many times have you had to cover my mouth because I couldn't think to do it myself? How many sounds did I bite down? All so we wouldn't get caught.”

His cock was steadily growing more stiff the more you spoke, and you were becoming more wet. You liked when he shushed you. You liked the thrill of being caught while he was fucking you senseless, how he had to kiss anywhere else but your mouth because to let your voice out would be the end of the fun you two had.

Clavis’ lips warmed your inner thigh. His hands gently caressed your naked legs. When he spoke, you could feel his mouth on your skin. “When you put it like that, it's almost flattering.”

“Mmhmm.” Your teeth toyed with your bottom lip. He was being a tease tonight. “And he's over there, getting turned on by us. But now how about I get the chance to moan your name? Can you imagine how sweet it would be to hear your name on my lips. He'd know how good you make me feel. He'd hear how often you were buried deep inside me. How many times you'd make me cum.”

Clavis slowly kissed up your inner thigh as you spoke. His tongue touched before lips met your leg, creeping ever closer to your waiting cunt. An appreciative groan came from him as an answer to your fantasy put into words.

“Let's make him wish he were you. Let's be noisy for once. Just this time. Let's make him envious. He could never have the real thing because I'm yours and you're the only one that can fuck me so good. Ah–” You gasped as Clavis finally reached your pussy, drawing a long lick between your folds. He repeated those delicious licks, wetting your clit by swirling his tongue around it. “Haah… nghn, Clavis.”

He moaned and the reverberation of his voice buzzed your sensitive bud. His lips puckered around it and he sucked your clit into a kiss. Fuck, he was so good with his tongue. He flicked the tip, caressed with flat licks, and varied the pressure as he played with your pussy. You could feel yourself leaking as your wetness dripped down your perineum.

Quiet keening leaked out of you. You were allowing yourself to make your enjoyment known, but still didn't want to get too loud. One neighbor knowing was fine. The whole hallway was not. Shifting, you brought your hand above your head and knocked purposefully against the shared wall. Clavis huffed mid-lick, his chuckle feeling foreign but decadent as he hummed before he spoke. “What a naughty vixen you are.”

“Uhnn--Clavis,” you moaned, his tongue circling your entrance. You wanted the guy next door to hear you call your lover's name. Imagining him pressing his ear against the wall to be certain he heard your moans thrilled you in a way you'd never experienced before.

The build up when Clavis used his mouth was always wonderful, but if you really wanted to scream you needed his cock inside you. “Mmmmn, Clavis?” You threaded your fingers through his hair. “Fuck me? Please?”

Clavis lifted his head to look at you, his golden eyes smoldering with lust. “Already? Impatient today? Or is it that you can't bear to be empty of me?”

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth to wipe your fluids from his face and worked his belt and pants loose. You crawled around the bed, turning so you were in it properly instead of short-wise how the two of you started. Knees bent, feet planted on the mattress, fingers fondling your stiff clit and the bundle of nerves that ran under the skin there, you licked your lips in anticipation as Clavis positioned himself between your knees.

“Fill me up.” You whispered seductively as you spread your labia and legs wider for him to fit.

Clavis sank into you. You were so wet he didn't need any additional strokes to bury himself fully in your cunt. He filled you and you pulsated around his cock. “Oh fuck, oh God, haaahnngh– Clavis!”

Your voice must have sparked something in him, because he gave you no time to adjust, pumping into you right away. His cock pushed into your cunt, rubbing your walls that were still trying to manage his size while also flexing around him. Ah, he felt so good, so hard. You loved to feel him bare inside you. 

Clavis scooped up your ankles, one at a time, setting your knees on his shoulders, kissing the inside of your leg as he put each one into place. Your pussy squeezed him tighter with your legs pressed together rather than spread wide around his hips. He loved the way you felt, too. The way your folds slid against his dick, the way your inner walls fluttered around him and how you felt where his tip rubbed your insides.

A moan escaped you, low and drawn out as he adjusted to push you into a mating press. His cock going even deeper and nudging against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back. One of his hands grabbed your hip, as if to hold you in place as he pumped faster and pounded harder. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, leaving marks that wouldn’t bruise but would stay red for some time to come.

Instinctively, you went to cover your mouth, but remembering that you intended to put on a show for Clavis’ neighbor, you instead bit your knuckle as you let your squeaks and gasps pass through clenched teeth. Clavis was more enthusiastic than usual, his hips slapping against your ass, literally pounding the sounds out of your throat with every thrust, his weight rocking you and the bed.

Your fingers on your free hand dug into the comforter. You were close, the pressure in your belly growing tighter and tighter. Spreading your legs to drop them from Clavis’ shoulders, you opened your hips for him and felt him sink that last half-inch from nothing padding between your hips and his. His cock bottomed out, his pelvis completely flush with yours. Just a little longer and you’d be coming, you were so. Very. Close.

The noises you were making must have clued him in because after a few thrusts as deep as he could reach, Clavis ground his sex against yours, churning his cock inside you. The way his pubis mons rubbed against your clit while his dick rubbed you from the inside was exactly what you needed.

The stimulation sent the pressure bursting inside you. It snapped, cracking like a whip to the back of your skull. You might have been whimpering and keening before, but now you let out full blown moans that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. Every breath, every exhale had you loudly crying out as your cunt spasmed and clenched again and again while Clavis refused to relent, continuing to stimulate you and draw your orgasm out.

He rode through it, enjoying the way you squeezed and milked him. Dropping down to press kiss after kiss against your parted lips, he resumed rocking into you once you finally regained the ability to control your voice again. He hadn’t yet finished, and from the way he was stroking himself with your pussy, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Clavis always slowed down right before coming, like he needed to draw out the feeling of you on his cock.

“Mmmmmn. Haaaah.” You allowed yourself to make pleasurable sounds, feeling every part of his dick rubbing against your sensitive insides. Unintentionally, your cunt clenched, perhaps you liked to hear yourself too? You had never really considered it before. “Nnngh, Clavis.”

As his name passed your lips, Clavis bucked into you. Without pulling out, he thrust against you again, and then a third time, trying to bury himself deeper, his biological need to pour his seed as deep as he can taking over.

“Oh fuck–nnngh!” You couldn’t feel his seed spilling inside you, but the way his cock throbbed, and the way his hips connected with yours was telling enough. And damn! It felt so good to have him thrusting so deeply, unable to pull himself free of his instincts. Like your sexes were communicating, you couldn’t help as your pussy spasmed in response to his cock pulsating inside you. 

Clavis cuddled against you on top of you, and you brushed your fingers through his hair. It wouldn’t take him long to be ready to go again, his cock rarely ever got soft once it was hard. The both of you took your time to catch your breath, nuzzling in the warmth of each other and the heat you had generated. Your lips connected, and wet kisses were shared between the both of you. His tongue sought yours and you matched his enthusiasm.

Clavis’ hands began to wander over your body, groping all the places he hadn’t had a chance to, yet. Then an uncommon sound came from the wall shared with the neighboring room. A purposeful knock. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your jaw dropped and Clavis’ eyes went wide before you both erupted into laughter.

“What do you say we give him another round to listen to?” You giggled, fingers trailing over Clavis’ lower back.

“Only if you make those same sounds, again. You sang beautifully.” Clavis shifted, covering your mouth with his and coaxing a low moan out of your throat.

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

How the Rhodolite princes would react to their firstborn/newborn

Rating: PG-13 (?) Ikepri itself contains a lot of mature themes however, as such, mdni 🔞

Warnings: Brief mentions of (past) character death, grief, pregnancy/childbirth themes (no actual birth depicted), gn but implied afab, & the usual tragic Ikepri cannon.

A/N: Tried to write how they'd hold their kid and what they were feeling when meeting them. Spoiler warnings for the Rhodolite princes routes, tried not to bring up anything major though (Luke's is probably the most spoilery?). Tried to keep the princes' spouses GN, though implied afab bc newborns. (One very brief mention of Belle, but mc/reader is not Emma.) Might eventually make pt2 with the others..? Please read the warnings and proceed only if comfortable! :)

(Apologies for anything that seems ooc, I haven't written much in awhile and this is my first piece for Ikepri! I'm more used to fics rather than hcs, but I tried my best! o7)

JIN 🦅

There's so much Jin can't help but worry about. His past, his future, his country... and now he's got not one but two loved ones he would do anything for. The little bundle of joy in his arms reminds him of the times when his younger brothers were born, and how cute they used to be (well, some of them, anyway). The bleary, garnet eyes trying to look into his own have him wondering.. is this how he looked to his dear mother? There's so much he cherishes, and so much he fears, but he won't let the history of Belle repeat itself. He'd fight the entire palace if he had to, but for right now, he'll settle for tackling pesky burps and dirty diapers. Jin coos at his baby, baritone voice suddenly startling the poor thing, and he can't help but pout. The baby in his arms continues to fuss, feeling hungry.

Jin pulls something out of his breast pocket, looking over at his spouse. "So.. how much longer until they can have lollipops?"

CHEVALIER 🐅

Chevalier would likely be a bit awed upon holding his firstborn, much like the quiet way he takes in Emma's precence. Chevalier is known to be awkward with his affections, as he's far from practiced, but it's been shown on several occasions how he tries to gently pet an animal that dares to come close, or how he clumsily takes care of his love when they're feeling under the weather. He may look fine on the outside, but he's actually quite hesitant, trying to sort things out logistically at first, before sort of just settling for standing there and holding his newborn with both arms. He stares down at their gentle features, taking in every detail, making sure they're comfortable and warm in their sleep.

Looking over at his beloved in all their tired glory, in his very own Chevalier-approved affection he says, "You did well, Simpleton." While he only speaks four words aloud, his faint smile speaks the thousands he didn't quite know how to express.

CLAVIS 🐆

"Dearie me," Clavis says, holding his newborn, full of wide-eyed excitement. "They look so much like you, I can see the bunny ears already."

Being someone who values life so dearly, bringing a new one into this world, with the love of his life no less, is enough to send Clavis' heart soaring into the stratosphere. He just can't help but want to drown them in affection, but they're so small and fragile, and Clavis knows better than to risk scaring them now. He's so, so gentle with his child, unconditional love flowing off him in waves as they bond quietly (please don't get used to this, it will not last), and looks upon their splotchy tufts of lilac hair. The Lelouch genes live on through yet another generation, he smiles to himself. Clavis slowly comes over to stand by his love, placing a gentle kiss on their head.

"You're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband like me. But I'm even luckier to have you both in my life."

LEON 🦁

The happiest day in Leon's life. Second only to your wedding. Scratch that, the wedding is second.. he thinks. He's a bit frazzled from work, labor stress, and all the chaos, cut the guy some slack. No one is immune to this sweet lion's charisma, not even a newborn. They can't help but stare at his flowy hair and bright eyes, like a cartoon character come to life right before their eyes. Leon gently caresses their neck, very lightly pressing a kiss into their soft kiss to their temple. What kind of person will they grow up to be? Will they eat as much as he does? Will they fall asleep when they read too? There's a lot that runs through his mind, but ultimately, he is hopes for them to be healthy, and live happily. This child is going to be absolutely spoiled (within reason), and always have someone in their corner, rooting for them and ready to help learn from their wrongs. For now, he can worry about righting their posture instead. He tries to hold them like he read (how his partner read) in the parenting books, supporting their necks and all. It was really hard to stay awake during those, but the excitement of fatherhood helped him push through, and he's going to put it all into practice now.

"When do we start working on the second one?" (If not for the literal newborn currently in his hands, he'd be busy dodging several pillows.)

YVES 🐈

There's a lot of suppressed guilt for his mother's death in mind, and so many worries for his darling's health before, during, and after. He's a bit scared to hold his newborn, for fear of his clumsiness and "bad luck". With some assurance, he finally takes hold of them, and he could not physically be more careful with his firstborn. Clear eyes like the sky blink sleepily up at him, and Yves is fighting back tears solely for fear of them landing on the baby and somehow hurting them. The smile on his face could split his cheeks if it got any wider. The baby falls asleep in its father's arms, and he even tries breathing softer so he won't wake them. He's just trying his best, please reassure this sweet cat, he means well. (And he absolutely lost the battle against those blasted tears anyway.)

"Thank you for loving me, and for bringing our child into the world with us. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

LICHT 🐺

(Twins having twins cliché may seem redundant, I made 'em different for each brother, pinky promise.)

Licht was blessed with not one but two bundles of joy. Beautiful twin boys, who had what looked to be his vibrant silver hair and his beloved's eyes. He couldn't help the memories that surged, of happier times, and the worst of times. He knew all too well just how ruthless the court could be, but he had a chance to make things different this time. Licht seriously considered building that house he'd once mentioned, and moving you all somewhere much more peaceful. One twin in his arms, one with their other parent, he feels all thought subside when the one he's holding tries to grab at his sleeve. Licht's now-famous smile blooms across his lips much the way the sun's rays appear over daybreak; subtle, then all at once. He takes a gloveless hand, letting their tiny hand hold onto his finger as best they can, eyes gleaming from the sight before him. Licht looks over in wonder at his spouse, only to find them already watching with a tired, quiet smile.

"Things won't be easy but.. I know we can handle anything. I adore you. And I adore them."

NOKTO 🦊

(Twins for both may seem redundant, but I changed things up drastically ok, we got this.)

Nokto wasn't entirely surprised to have twins, but he had also hoped luck would be in their corner in avoiding similar fates. Two little girls, jewel-like eyes like his, and his beloved's hair color (or so it appears, though it's hard to tell for sure with so little peach fuzz). Nokto sits at the edge of the bed, holding one newborn in his arm, and reaching his other hand out for the one in his love's arms. Aside from the memories of his own upbringing, he's now having Typical Girl Dad thoughts about how to keep them safe and teach them how to stay away from cooties (boys), among other things. With a soft sigh, he gently burps his newborn after she's done feeding, rocking her slowly as she tries to chew on her father's lucious locks. Laughter bubbles past his lips at her cute antics, and Nokto feels the stress fade away, even if just a little. His heart is still getting used to receiving love and believing in it, but it's grown enough by now to love his 3 new favorite people in the world.

"If they like my hair this much now, just wait till they start to grow their own."

LUKE 🐻

Luke could not be more the picture of a teddy bear than with his newborn all swaddled up and snuggled in with their giant of a dad. He can't help but wonder if his sister is watching over them, laying next to his spouse on the bed, their newborn but a tiny dot among the two full-grown humans taking up most of the space. He promises to be there for his child the way he never really had anyone, and hopes to live more in the present now, the stakes feeling higher than ever before. A whole new life, created on purpose, gently resting in one arm and atop his broad chest, nestled comfortably and trying to suck on their thumb. Luke holds his spouse's hand with his free one, squeezing it gently, looking into their eyes with the intensity of his own emeralds.

"Look at 'em.. they're so small. Just like you," he jokes before letting out a big yawn, "But sleepy, just like me."

All rights for the characters and original intellectual property belong to Cybird. My writing belongs to myself, Maladaptivedaydreamsx, and shall not be reproduced elsewhere without permission. Ok to translate as a reblog to this post. Ok to reblog, no permission required (for those who like to be safe and ask first, all's good little homies) 💜

If you enjoyed these, I might try to make a pt2 with the other characters soon? Likes and reblogs appreciated, thank you kindly for reading! If you have any hc's of your own, please feel free to respond with them, I'd love to hear what you all think! 😊❤️ (If you'd like to be put on a tag list for any future works, please reply, though it will be a general list for writings as I'm getting back into things slowly atm,, 🙏🏻)

Also, to the lovely person who sent this in likely about 2 years ago (after I'd stopped writing on here bc life happens) ... if you're still somewhere in the fandom and end up seeing this post, thank you for your patience, and for sending something in. I'm finally trying to combat the writer's block again! 🙌🏻

[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 

[aquagirl1978]

Fanfiction

Be Still, My Queen (NSFW)

Tempting the Beast (NSFW)

Making the Morning Worthwhile (NSFW)

Marking You as Mine (NSFW)

Adorably Awkward

Want A Bite?

A Hundred Thousand Roses (NSFW)

My Queen

A Crown for Your King (NSFW)

The Tiger Cares

The Glasses Stay On (NSFW)

Pas de Deux

The King's Command

Just a Dream

Just Another Day

Crash Into Me (NSFW)

A Rare Treat

Torment (NSFW)

Stay

Season of Change

The Queen's Command

What a Difference a Year Makes

Kiss From a Rose

She is Mine

Twist of Fate

Read to Me

Happily Ever After

The Morning After (NSFW)

More Than Words

Take My Breath Away (NSFW)

My Yellow Rose

It Was You

No Regrets

Finally (NSFW)

Chasing Fireflies

In Your Eyes

His Human Heart

Fall on Me

A New Day

Sugar and Spice

The Exchange

Run Away With Me

Family

The Little Things

Drabbles

five more minutes

not yet

grief

bathing

fever

scars & souvenirs

white day

marks

Chats

A Trip to Wonderland (IkeRev x IkePri)

The One Where Belle Invites the Suitors to a Picnic (Licht, Gilbert, Sariel, Clavis, Chevalier, Jin)

Headcanons

What kind of undies do the princes wear? (Act 1 Suitors)

Women's Lingerie - Do they wear it and what would they wear? (ALL)

Suitors react when MC gifts them a plushie of their crest animal - Part 1 (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke)

Suitors React to a Sick MC - Part 1 (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke, Sariel)

Jealous Princes - Part 1 (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke, Rio)

Suitors Reaction to Finding a Toy in Your Room (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke, Rio, Gilbert)

Children's Books (Chevalier, Clavis)

Dream Wedding (Chevalier, Gilbert)

Grocery Shopping (Chevalier, Gilbert)

MC Reacts to Fight with Suitor (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke)

Kisses (Gilbert, Keith, Silvio)

Suitors as Vampires Biting MC for the First Time (Chevalier, Gilbert, Keith, Silvio)

Suitors React to Finding Out Belle is Pregnant (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Jin, LIcht, Sariel)

Chevalier Michel with a Lovey Dovey MC

Taking Suitor's Gloves Off (Gilbert, Rio, Chevalier)

How the Suitors React to an Unexperienced Belle (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Jin)

Suitors Reactions to an MC Who Gets Lost Easily (Yves, Nokto, Chevalier, Clavis)

Suitors Reactions to Attending a Baseball Game (Chevalier's Faction)

Suitors React to an MC with an Eating Disorder/Body Dysmorphia (Leon, Chevalier, Clavis)

Chevalier with a Pregnant MC

Halloween with the Princes (Chevalier, Clavis, Nokto, Luke)

Suitors Reactions to a Ticklish MC (Chevalier, Yves, Licht)

[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."

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[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.

[candied-boys]

Yayyyyyyy I finally finished my entry for my creative challenge 🫠 see if you can guess which song inspired it 😂

Luke Randolph x Reader

Country AU. Very dialogue heavy. No warnings, just pure fluff! (Except for smoking weed and drinking because it's set at a bonfire party)

“Rumour has it he's another brother.”

Gossip. The lifeblood of a small town. Especially in the flickering shadows of a rowdy bonfire.

“No way! You can't be serious,” the volume of your friend's incredulity coming off more like a whisper for the raucous surrounding you on all sides.

You look past the shoulder of another girl standing in your circle as she sneers, “Jeez that old man sure got around, eh.”

Attempting an even pitch you chip in, “So he's not just a new farmhand?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” your best friend jibes, elbowing you in the ribs.

“Huh?”

You've been caught red handed.

Another friend pipes up, “You haven't taken your eyes off him all night.”

“What?! That's not true,” you deny with zero conviction.

“You're totally into him,” the same friend teases again.

“She is. She has a thing for gingers,” your bestie confirms to the group.

“Shut up!!! I do not!”

You absolutely do.

“Especially when they have green eyes,” she finishes with a wink at you.

“Oh well, he's perfect then!” the one who started the conversation snickers.

Burying your face in your hands you squeak like a mouse, “Shut up shut up shut up!”

“Go talk to him,” one urges.

“I can't!”

“You can,” another says dispassionately.

“No, I'll look like an idiot!”

“No, you won't. Just be normal,” one who clearly doesn't know you well chimes in.

“I don't know how to be normal!!!”

Your best friend laughs heartily at this, confirming your perception of reality, before offering, “Just introduce yourself and ask him where he's from.”

“Like what, just walk up and talk to them?! Jin doesn't even know my name! He's not even a friend of a friend!!”

“Oh, Jin is real sweet, he won't let it get awkward,” a girl stood across from you dismisses with a wave of her hand.

“Well, it'll be awkward AF if he hits on me!”

A fourth friend shrugs and reassures, “It's true he'll jump anything that moves, but he's not that dense. He'll know you're not after him.”

“No no no,” you shake your head rapidly. “Then that would mean that both of them will know who I'm after!!”

“Isn't that the point?”

“Just go over there and ask red to dance.”

It's clear from their bored looks and dry tone that some of the girls are getting tired of your shenanigans.

“I can't do that! I'll die of embarrassment!” you inform them in another pathetic attempt to get them to leave you alone.

“Yes you can! You're plenty cute and no one else has asked him, so he has no reason to say no!”

Tensing at the feeling of hands on your shoulders you ask, “What's that got to do with anything??!”

“Enough already. Just go talk to him!”

Another pair of hands have grabbed you by the wrist.

“Akh!!! You guys, no!!!”

Before you can turn and run, your bestie has betrayed you with the sweetest smile. “Here, just take a couple of cold ones with you and you'll be fine!”

You squeak as your only free arm is stuffed with icy bottles and you're given a rough but effective shove towards the tailgate of a jacked up Chevy.

Immediately you know there's no escape when that crimson gaze catches you in its talons.

“Hi Jin… I, uh, brought fresh beer? In case yours is getting warm, maybe, or something…”

The distant sound of your friends giggling behind you rings clear in your ears as you attempt and fail miserably to swallow your embarrassment.

“Well that's mighty nice of you, sweetheart. I just polished mine off.”

You notice he sets his bottle behind him, but the clink against the truck bed sounds more like a thud than the tinkle of empty glass, and you try not to visibly cringe at the idea that he probably pities you.

“There's one for your friend too,” you manage to say and hold out both bottles.

“Oh, this here's my baby brother! He's not from ‘round these parts so you've probably never met. Luke, look sharp,” Jin says and knocks the beer against his brother's shoulder to get his attention.

“Hmm? Oh, thanks.”

Mellow, not too deep, with a bit of a drawl. Even his voice is handsome. Yeah, you're done for.

“Luke, say hi,” Jin instructs as he introduces you two. To your surprise it turns out he does know your name.

“Uh… hey?” the redhead half-waves, then pops the cap off the bottle with practiced ease.

Hi…” you breathe and fidget with your hair. “So, uh, where you from?”

“Couple hours north of here. Small town nobody's really heard of,” he shrugs and takes a swig.

You definitely don't stare at the way the glass presses to his lips.

“Oh, smaller than here?”

“Yeah, like no high school kinda small.”

“I see,” is all you manage to reply while your brain short circuits watching smoke curl out of his pretty mouth when he takes a hit of the vape being passed around.

“Dab?” his soft tenor pulls you back to the present.

“What is it?” you query at the stick held in your direction between long slender fingers.

“Honey oil, I guess? Dunno. Good stuff though,” he shrugs simply.

You wonder momentarily if it's the marijuana that's makes his eyelids look so heavy and those emeralds shimmer like dew caught in soft moss or if he always wears such a sensual look without realizing it.

“Ah, can't today. I'm DD for my friends.”

He hums, a mix of appraisal and acceptance in his voice, before taking another draw and passing it along to his brother. The way Luke turns away a little and blows the vapour over his shoulder strikes you as both kind of thoughtful and unreasonably attractive.

“So that's why you didn't bring a beer for yourself,” Jin fills the awkward silence.

“Yeah,” you answer and instantly hate the way you still can't think of anything clever to say or even anything normal to ask to keep up conversation.

“Are you always the designated driver with your friends, or do you let yourself have a little fun now and then?” Jin queries and passes the vape along to whoever is standing nearest.

“We take turns, so I had my fun at the last bush party.”

“I don't think Luke here's ever been to a real bonfire, have you?”

“Don't think a coupla guys gettin’ drunk and high in the woods counts as a party, so no. Nothin’ as big as this anyways.”

“How do you like it?” you manage to squeak and mentally pat yourself on the back.

He shrugs again. “It's fine. Music’s good at least.”

Trying to keep your voice even you ask, “Care to dance?”

“Thanks, but I'll pass.”

It's your turn to shrug as if you don't mind and aren't screaming internally about how dumb you are and how awful your friends are for making you face your fears and how you can't even drink away the sting of rejection tonight.

“Uh, well, I think I hear my friend calling me,” you lie and give into the overwhelming need to run away and die of embarrassment. “It was nice to meet you, Luke. Jin, see you later.”

They wave casually, Jin wearing a bright grin as he raises his bottle to you in a half-goodbye half-thanks.

Just before you get out of earshot you hear “Ow! The hell was that for?” from Luke and turn to see him rubbing his arm, but you can't make out what they say after that.

“I don't remember raising you to leave a lady hanging like that, Luke.”

“I don't remember you raisin’ me. Period.”

“That's entirely besides the point. She worked up all that courage to come over here and chat you up, and you just went and shut her down! What am I gonna do with you?”

“What’re ya talkin’ about?”

“She wanted to dance with you. That's why she came over here in the first place.”

“What?!! I thought she was just bein’ polite. I don't even know her! Why would she wanna dance with a total stranger like me?”

“Geez Louise, Luke. You can't tell me with looks like yours you've never been hit on before. Did you not notice her watching you all night, her friends egging her on, literally pushing her over here to talk to you, or even how nervous she was standing here?”

“No… well… yeah… she did seem kinda skittish, but I mean I don't even know how to dance and it looks like a pain in the ass…”

“So you're gonna make a fool out of her because you don't wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Woah, what?! I didn't mean nothin’ by it! She's real cute and all, I just…” Luke trails off, running a hand through his rusty locks.

“Go tell her that, not me.”

A brief glance, a silent query, a bashful sigh.

“Go on. Get gone,” Jin urges, reaching over to tousle the shaggy mop of red hair.

“Ahk! Cut it out!” head-shy and pouting at the blatant affection Luke jumps off the truck and runs off into the crowd, leaving Jin behind smiling into the last sip of his beer.

The cold metal of the coke against the embarrassed flush of your skin draws out a long breath — one dripping both with relief and regret like the uncomfortable condensation that trickles down your neck.

Ear-splittingly loud music, boisterous laughs and drunk shrieks, the crackle of half-a-dozen pallets burning; it all fades into the background as your inner voice finds every word in your vocabulary to insult your intelligence.

“So this is where ya ran off to,” a languid voice breaks through the cacophony of your mind.

“HOLY SHIT! You scared me!!” you squeal like a piglet as you whip around and simultaneously drop your makeshift ice-pack on the ground.

There he stands, all lean muscle and six-foot too many inches to guess, lazily leaning against the same tree you've been hiding behind for five minutes now.

“Sorry,” he answers softly while he bends to pick up the can at his feet. Before handing it back to you he dusts the pine needles and grime off with the hem of his oversized purple t-shirt.

Taking the unopened drink back timidly you manage a thank-you but mostly just stare at how pretty his hands are until he shoves them in his jeans’ pockets.

“So uh… I never danced before. That's why I passed on yer offer.”

Lifting your gaze from fidgeting with the pull-tab, you catch him glancing to the side at nothing and a nervous hand running through the back of his long hair.

“Oh, that's okay! No need to apologize! I can't really dance anyway. I was just trying to be polite and all. Y'know, new kid in town, thought you might be bored, maybe like some company. But I'm sorry for bothering you! I didn't mean to interrupt like that and make things awkward.”

Why is the only time you can string more than three words together when you're hell-bent on apologizing for existing?!

“Y’ didn't,” he says plainly, returning his hand to a pocket.

“I didn't what?” you ask like a deer in the headlights. You don't even know what you just finished word-vommiting two seconds ago.

“Y’ didn't make it awkward. I did…”

“Oh, uh…” you stammer, as if the conversation needed more awkwardness.

“I ain't keen on dancin’, but maybe we could go for a walk instead? The moon's real bright tonight.”

You can't tell which, but when you meet his gentle gaze, you're certain either all the blood has drained from your face or you are completely flushed. Still, you manage an overly enthusiastic nod and a broken “sure.”

“There's a lake just over those hills if you wanna see it. Sometimes there's fireflies,” he offers with a gentle voice that has you leaning in closer.

Just to hear him better. That's all.

You fall in step behind him, praying you'll work up the courage and the brains to say something — anything really.

“I didn't know the property had a lake,” you finally offer as the ruckus of the party begins to fade into the distance.

“Where d’ya think we water the animals when we put ‘em out to pasture?” he replies with a chuckle before coming to a sudden stop and turning around. “Speakin’ of which, we're bein’ followed,”

You whip around the moment you catch sight of his furrowed brow. “Shit, we're not being stalked by wolves are we?!”

Behind you his cheerful laugh makes you flush both with humiliation at your apparently stupid question and with something equally as uncomfortable but not as unpleasant.

Heading a few paces back towards where you came from Luke continues, “Naw, but they wouldn't hurt us anyway. They like me. It's just Babybell. C'mere girl. Y’ come all the way out here lookin’ fer me?”

Under the warmth of the harvest moon you make out a ruddy brown creature with a coat of shaggy hair reminiscent of a certain strapping redhead now knelt on the ground.

“Oh! A highland calf!! She's so cute!!” you chirp in delight at the realization and trot over to the pair.

“Isn't she? I helped with the birth a few months back so she follows me around a lot,” Luke explains, her cheeks cradled in his palms as he scratches her chin. “But where's yer mama, pretty girl?”

“Can I pet her?” you ask, all giddy and bouncing on your toes.

“Course! Just a sec,” he answers and literally scoops up the calf in his arms so her fluffy face is level with yours.

“Omg isn't she heavy?!” you ask in complete shock but still reach out to pet her soft, wet nose.

“Not really. She's only, like, 200 pounds,” he replies, nuzzling his face against her fluffy head.

“TWO HUNDRED POUNDS?! And you can just CARRY HER AROUND?!!” you shriek and gape up at him as he stands there grinning with a kind of childish pride.

But your squawking is cut short when suddenly you're shoved from behind — gently — yet with enough force to nearly knock you into Luke.

“There y’are, Milk. Figured ya couldn't be too far behind,” he calls affectionately over your shoulder.

Turning around, you're greeted with a snort by the 1,000 pound shaggy, brown beauty that is Milk. Even with only the moonlight you can see she has the prettiest big eyes under her long bangs.

“Wait, she's not a dairy cow. Why is she called Milk?” you ask while ruffling the mess of hair on her head.

“Mmm, cuz her coat’s the colour of chocolate milk,” Luke shrugs and sets down Babybell, but not before giving the calf a big kiss on her cheek. “I just name ‘em whatever comes to mind. Most of ‘em didn't have names ‘til I got here. They're raised for meat afterall.”

“Wait, so then is Babybell named after those little round cheeses wrapped in red wax??”

“Naw," he chuckles and joins you in petting Milk. "There's a bell in the barn she likes to make ring and she's a baby so."

“Super cute,” you can't help but giggle with him. “So she just follows you around?”

“Yeah, most animals tend to do that though. They all seem to like me. Even the wolves.”

“Were you being serious earlier?!”

Distracted by the headbutting demands for attention from the little calf Luke hums, “Mm? Oh yeah. You'll see when we get to the lake.”

“Not wolves, I hope?!” you shiver at the thought.

Luke only laughs before standing up to head off once more, but he pauses to glance over his shoulder and reach out a hand.

“The hill has a lot of lose rocks and hidden grooves. Don't want ya sprainin’ yer ankle or nothin’.”

Hesitant yet eager, you place your palm in his and walk beside him — feeling as meek as the gentle giants trailing behind you and oddly at ease all of a sudden.

“So, uh, do you know a lot about animals?” you find yourself asking while he helps you avoid a patch of treacherous gravel.

“Enough, I guess. I worked on a farm before comin’ down here. How ‘bout you? Ya like animals?”

“Yeah, I love them! I went to university to study ornithology - I mean —”

But he cuts you off, “So ya like birds, eh?”

“Wow! Not many people actually know what that means...”

“I didn't go to college but that don't mean I don't read nothin’,” he quips and flashes you a cheeky grin before asking, “So, what brought ya back here then?”

“Well, I missed the small town life, and I figured I could help with conservation efforts out here by working with the local farms to set up critter friendly agricultural practices.”

“But they don't pay ya for that, do they?”

“Nah. Well not in cash, but in vegetables and what not.”

“So where d’ya work then? Watch yer step,” he mutters and takes both hands as you jump over a hole after him.

“Just at the coffee shop in town. What about you? I guess you help out on the ranch here now?”

“Not if I can avoid it. I spend most of my time playin’ hookie — nappin’ in the hay loft, watchin' the cattle graze, or fishin’ by the lake.”

“Wait, but you said you worked on a farm before. Did they let you get away with that back there too?” you query up at him as you reach the top of the hill.

There's a look in his eyes you can't discern as he answers back down at you, “Aw hell naw. That was damn hard work. But even if I don't do nothin’ down here they can't kick me off the property or cut me outta the will, so why would I?”

“Huh.” Frowning, it takes you a minute to get your head around his statement before you dare to ask, “Is there really nothing else you wanna do with your time here?”

“Guess I'll find out,” he replies, the impish curl of his lips belies the weight you feel in his gaze. “But c'mon. We're almost there!”

Hand still clasped in his, he leads you through the underbrush and out the other side of the sparse woods to the lake. Just as promised, fireflies linger along the shoreline as if waiting to greet you.

“Critters really do like you, eh?” you comment as Luke leads you closer without any concern for scaring them away. Instead you find yourself surrounded by even more of their delicate twinkling.

“Told ya,” he smiles down at you.

In awe you hardly notice the minutes pass until you hear the gentle hum of a familiar tune.

“Lazy yellow moon comin' up tonight shinin' through the trees,” he sings under his breath.

Without thinking you whisper back, “Crickets are singin' and lightning bugs are floatin' on the breeze. Oh! It fits perfectly!”

“Right?” he chuckles back.

“Too bad we didn't bring a fishing rod,” you lament with a giggle.

“Well, I guess that leaves lyin’ on our backs and countin’ the stars or jumpin’ in the lake.”

“I think there's one more option,” you answer but don't dare meet the querying tilt of his head. “Fallin’ in love in the middle of the night.”

Immediately you slap both your hands over your mouth in horror. You can't believe you just said that! Could you be any cheesier!?!

Panic in your pitch and embarrassment flushing your body with heat you splutter, “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”

“Wait what?!?!” is all he manages before you've kicked off your shoes, thrown your top and shorts on the ground, and made a beeline for the end of the dock.

Praying the lake will swallow you whole, you canon ball right in. Tragically it does not. And you don't even have time to run away before Luke catches you by the waist and hoists you up on his hip in the water.

Finally eye level with that leafy green gaze you lose the will to squirm and fight — all thoughts and words dissolving under his attention, probably melting out your ears too.

“Black lace, eh? Were ya expecting somethin' tonight?” he whispers with a teasing lilt and raised brows.

Words caught in your throat, you stare at him open-mouthed before squeaking in defense, “No! It's the only bra I own and I only bought it because it's really comfy!!”

“Mmm? And this,” he questions and traces the band of your thong around the waistline towards the back.

“My shorts are super short today because they're all ripped at the edges and I didn't want anybody seeing anything! That's all!!”

He laughs, obviously satisfied by your flustered reaction, “Well that's good cuz I'm not really a one-night-stand kinda guy, so I'd have to disappoint ya.”

“Oh, that's nice! I mean, uhhh cool? No, I mean, omg just kill me now,” you groan and plaster your hands over your face.

“Hey, now. I can't see the cute shy look on yer face when you do that,” he teases.

“THAT'S WHY I'M HIDING!!!” you garble out from beneath your palms.

A contemplative hum is the last thing you hear before he sinks under the water, holding you there until you smack him to let you up to for air. But before you can even catch your breath, his lips are pressed to yours.

[missaengg]

Dirty Little Sleazebag

Day 15 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Ikemen Prince | Silvio Ricci x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, degradation/praise kink, dominant Emma, submissive Silvio, cunnilingus, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, tiny bit of fluff if you squint Prompts: Degradation/Praise Kink | “Beg me to be gentle.” A/N: Yay! Finally wrote one for Silvio!! ao3 link here.

“...Hah?!”

Silvio stared at you as if you had grown two heads, eyes wide in disbelief. You licked your lips, tentatively staring back. 

You wondered briefly if perhaps you had gone a little too far. You simply wanted a bit of payback for the way he relentlessly teased you the week before, bringing you to the edge of rapture without letting you taste it over and over again until you were writhing in his hands, begging for him to finish.

But the bewildered fury on his face was just too delicious to stop.

“I said, lick it, you rude, arrogant, sleazebag.”

You raised your knee higher from where you were kneeling above Silvio, your foot propped up on the pillow under him, the other knee kneeling by his head.

Silvio’s face contorted into an ugly scowl. “Lady, ya got some nerve tellin’ me what to do while insultin’ me.”

“I will do as I please.” You lowered yourself further in his face so that your cunt was all he could see. “Now, lick my fucking pussy like the good little slut you are.”

Silvio growled, incensed by your words, but he complied, pulling your lacy underwear to the side, sliding that sinful tongue of his up your slit. You shivered delightfully. He never could resist you, not when you were on display, wet, hot, and bothered for him.

“You like being told what to do, don’t you? You like tasting me with that dirty little mouth of yours?” you taunted him, relishing how every word out of your mouth riled him into an angry frenzy.

Silvio explored you like a man possessed. His tongue ran up and down your folds, his teeth nibbling on your tender skin. You bit back your moans, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how good his mouth felt. Not yet at least.

“That’s right, worship me with that filthy tongue.”

Silvio growled, roughly jerking your hips closer to his mouth causing your upright knee to buckle until you were practically sitting on his face.

“That’s a good boy,” you purred.

Silvio’s tongue darted along your entrance, flicking the entrance, teasing, but not entering. You frowned. He was trying to take control, but you weren’t going to let him. Not today.

“Fuck me with your tongue.”

Silvio clicked his tongue, his irate grumble audible even with his mouth full of your cunt. You dropped until you were smothering him, holding yourself there until you could hear him sputter before releasing.

“Ya tryin’ to kill me?!”

“I said, fuck me with your tongue.”

“I don’t have to listen to ya.”

You couldn’t see Silvio’s face from under you, but you knew him well enough to know he was glaring at you, a furious blush blooming across his cheeks.

“Is that so?” You pulled yourself up, swinging away from his eager mouth.

You grinned wickedly when Silvio groaned, the loss of your sweet cunt too much for him to bear. He desperately reached for your hips, which you held mockingly just out of reach.

Silvio let out a feral yowl, reminding you of a frustrated baby kitten. “Lady, will ya just come back here?”

“Not if you’re going to be a bad boy.”

You stifled the depraved giggle bubbling up your throat. Silvio’s face was scrunched together like a toddler throwing a tantrum, his need to taste you battling ferociously with his indignant displeasure. It was clear he didn’t know what to do when you flipped the script on him, when you were the one making the demands instead of needy pleas.

“Not a lick of charm,” he growled. “Lady–” You wagged your finger cutting him off. “Are you going to fuck me with your tongue?”

“...Yes,” Silvio conceded resignedly.

“Good boy.” You settled back over his waiting mouth. “Go on.”

Silvio didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled you towards him, diving his tongue into you eagerly as far as he could reach. You blissfully sighed. His tongue dragged along the sweet spot inside you that caused your legs to shake and your knees to buckle, and it took almost everything you had to remember to stay propped up on your knees so you didn’t smother him.

The strangled groans coming from Silvio pleased you.

“Fucking me so well with that dirty tongue… ngh… so eager for my sweet cunt,” you grunted, ripples of electricity buzzing through your belly. He was gulping rapidly, swallowing your arousal pooling into his mouth. The obscene noises coming from Silvio, the delicious tingles running up your spine tightened in your belly bolstering you to continue uttering the words tumbling from your mouth. “You like that, do you? Make your master cum… hah… you nasty arrogant boywhore.”

Silvio doubled his efforts, flicking your sweet spot repeatedly with his wet, writhing tongue. You threw your head back. The jolts were coming quickly, building into a tight feverish coil. You trembled, your muscles pulling taut, preparing for the snap of release.

“Faster,” you moaned, the sound coming from deep within your chest. “My filthy… little… whore.”

Silvio sucked hard and emitting a tantalizing, feral growl, nipped your clit, sending you over the edge. The coil snapped, and with a strangled cry, you let go, feeling the spasms of your ecstasy raining down your tense, roiling body. His tongue lapped the sweet, sticky juices spilling from your cunt, greedily catching every last drop.

Breathing heavily, you pushed yourself down along his torso until you straddled his waist.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, futilely wiping the copious traces of you from his mouth with your thumb only managing to smear it even further against his lips. 

You gazed down at Silvio. His normally arrogant blue eyes were glazed over, unfocused and drunk off your pussy. You suppressed the urge to giggle and stroke his cheek. He looked so adorable lying there on the bed beneath you, flushed bright red, chest rapidly rising and falling. 

But you weren’t quite done with him yet.

“Sit up, back against the headboard.”

Silvio obeyed without a word, shifting into a sitting position with his back against the head of the bed. He reached for your waist, but you grabbed his wrists, stopping him before he could place his hands on you. Shaking your head, you positioned yourself over his lap, hovering with enough room so that his tip barely brushed your slit. His brows furrowed, the scowl returning between his eyes, irritated that he couldn’t pull you into his arms.

“Wha–” “Beg me to be gentle.”

“...Hah?”

You melted internally, hiding it under the dominating facade you projected. There was just something so darn cute about how frustratingly bewildered he looked when he uttered that expression, with his wide eyes and wrinkled brow. You could never get sick of it.

“Beg me to be gentle, you naughty boy.”

Silvio’s eyes narrowed, his mouth falling open. “Why–”

You didn’t let him finish. You rose, and without warning, slammed down heavily on his dick, until he was fully buried and your pelvis collided with his.

Silvio yelped, uttering a string of profanities. You would’ve smiled at his reaction, but you were too busy trying to hide your own wince, forgetting how much he could stretch you out if you took him too quickly.

“Woman–” “Beg me to be gentle.”

Silvio stared into your eyes, his brows still clenched together. “No,” he stubbornly snapped. “Would ya–”

You clicked your tongue. “Naughty, disobedient baby.” You pushed yourself off his lap until only his tip remained inside of you and then slammed down again, the sound of your bodies crashing together filling the bedroom.

Silvio choked, his eyes bugging out of his head. “Tch… Woman, you’re crazy,” he sputtered, stunned.

You darkly glowered at Silvio. You thought you’d gotten him to acquiesce, but if this was how he wanted to play, then so be it, you’d play. 

“Talking back to your master, forgetting your place. Can’t have that, can we?” you clucked mockingly. You grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of his head, roughly jerking his head back. “Your sole purpose in life is pleasing me, have you forgotten that?”

Silvio sharply exhaled, glaring at you with a frightening intensity. You glared back. You were certain that hiding under his furious indignant rage was a deranged thrill, you could see it smoldering beneath his glare. Silvio was much bigger and stronger than you. He could easily flip you onto your back and hold you down if he truly wanted to stop.

You dropped your voice to a menacing whisper. “Now, be a good little dog, and beg your master to be gentle.”

The two of you stared at one another, neither party willing to accede. It was a battle of wills, and you weren’t going to be the one to break.

“Be gentle,” Silvio lowly growled.

You smugly smirked. “You didn’t say please.”

“Be gentle… please,” Silvio mumbled.

“I couldn’t hear you.” “Be gentle with me please,” Silvio spat out.

“That’s my good dog. Let me reward you.” You kissed him, deep and demanding, claiming his lips in victory. “You’re going to take me, and you’re going to take me well, aren’t you?” “...Yes,” Silvio answered begrudgingly.

You clenched, rocking your hips against him, smirking at his sharp exhale. Placing your hands on the headboard on each side of Silvio’s head, you picked up the pace, viciously driving your hips into him.

“Do you want me to make you cum? Do you want my cunt to make you feel good?”

“...Yes.”

“Beg me to make you cum.” “Please…” Silvio licked his lips. “Please make me cum.”

Grinning wickedly, you rode him, elated at how his eyes fluttered closed, at the sweet guttural groans he uttered. Silvio reached for your waist again, but you swatted his hands away.

“No touching unless I tell you.” Silvio grumbled in protest, but you felt satisfied when you saw his fingers curl into the sheets instead, tightly clutching the fabric, rutting against you as best he could without leverage, matching your rhythm.

Your own hands gripped the headboard so tight your knuckles turned white. Silvio filled you so completely, you could feel him sliding along your sensitive flesh, your clit brushing against his pelvis with every gyration of your hips, spine-tingling waves of pleasure rolling through your heated body. You gasped, your breaths shallow and erratic. You were losing control, the facade of your dominance slipping, Silvio’s utterances of pleasure only adding to the intensity of the crashing waves.

“Cum– cum for me.” You squeezed your eyes shut, holding onto the last shreds of your resolve, knowing that if you came undone too quickly, he would win.

You felt Silvio tense beneath you. He was close, he was so close, you could feel it.

“Show me how– how much you love my sweet cunt, you– you– rude, flamboyant– asshole.”

With a strangled, guttural growl, Silvio unraveled, twitching as he spilled into you, arching his back and calling your name. You crashed your mouth to his, desperately seeking his lips, on the verge of your own unraveling.

Silvio wrapped his arms around you, burying his hands in your hair, burying his tongue in your mouth.

You burst, dissolving into a puddle of ecstasy, coming undone in crashing waves. 

Kissing Silvio gently, you pulled back just enough to look down into the eyes of the man who drove you insane. You sweetly smiled, brushing back his hair, all pretense of your revenge gone with your release.

“Enjoy that much?” you gently teased, trailing kisses from his forehead, down his nose, and to his lopsided grin.

“Woman, what in god’s name just happened?” Silvio nuzzled into your neck, placing a small peck to where he could feel your heartbeat.

You hummed, playing with the hair on the back of his head. “Just a bit of revenge, dearest.”

“Don’t ever do that again.” You chuckled. “Why? Cause you enjoyed it too much?” “Tch…” Silvio blushed, hiding his furiously red face into your shoulder. “I don’t think my heart can handle it.”

You burst into twinkling laughter, shaking in his arms. “We’ll see.”

“...Bitch...”

But you knew he didn’t mean it.

[yonaaaahowell]

Baguette

Keith Howell x Reader

Tags: NSFW, MDNI, BLOWJOB, DIRTY TALKING

Words: 1, 119

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

One night, you were quite intoxicated and somehow recalled that you were entrusted with delivering certain elixirs to Keith. Despite your inebriated state, you hastened to his chambers and knocked on the door.

*Knock* You knocked once and received no response.

*Knock knock* After knocking a second time with even greater urgency, the door still remained unanswered.

You knocked repeatedly on the prince chambers door throughout the night in a state of drunkenness, growing increasingly impatient as no one answered despite your best efforts.

Suddenly, the door to his chamber swung open with a creak, revealing yourself face to face with Keith's partially undressed form.

The prince was clad only in a small towel that barely covered his lower region, his dark olive ruffled hair still damp from a recent bath or shower.

Keith's golden eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected intrusion, clearly having forgotten his state of undress in the moment.

"What...what are you doing here so late at night?" he asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and a hint of wariness.

In his confusion, Keith failed to fully process your inebriated ramblings, not quite registering the nature of the "concoctions" and "reports" you mentioned. For now, he simply stood before you, towel clenched in one hand, hair still mussed and damp - a picture of unexpected disruption.

Meanwhile, you surmised that Keith wasn't fully comprehending your intentions, so you took the unusual step of entering his private chambers to personally deliver the bag of concoctions and reports yourself.

However, in your intoxicated state, you stumbled forward and accidentally yanked on Keith's towel, causing the fabric to slip away and reveal his manhood in all its glory.

Upon laying eyes on the prince's erect and substantial member, most women would have been shocked, intrigued, or even embarrassed.

But thanks to your extreme inebriation, you simply giggled and whispered, "Baguette..." seemingly perceiving Keith's genitals as a large, mysterious loaf of bread.

Your stomach growled in response, distracting you from the bizarre scene before your eyes.

Then all of a sudden, the mischievous alter-ego within Keith emerged, a sly, wicked smile twisting his gentle features as he caught sight of you entranced gaze lingering on his exposed member.

"Like what you see, hmm?" he teased in a low, deep tone that was a far cry from his usual gentle demeanor.

Keith's alter-ego, driven by the thrill of teasing someone he found endearing, had no intention of covering himself like his gentle counterpart would have. Instead, he reveled in the unexpected opportunity to explore the boundaries of their encounter.

"Normally, HE will be the type to cover himself in a situation like this," Wicked Keith admitted, glancing down at his erect member with a chuckle.

"But your drunken state is too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. So, you can touch my 'baguette' or even take my baguette for a spin, if you desire." Keith purred, his golden eyes glinting with wicked amusement at his own tease.

As your entranced state allowed you to act on Keith's suggestive words and deeds without hesitation, you tentatively reached out to touch his manhood.

Your fingers explored the thick shaft in a daze before your lips descended to lick the tip. You took a small nibble, at which point Keith groaned and chuckled, offering gentle guidance.

"No biting, my doe," he teased. "Round that little mouth of yours around my shaft and suck it gently..."

He watched with a knowing smirk as realization slowly dawned on your drunken mind that what you held in your hand was not, in fact, a baguette.

When you attempted to pull away, Keith placed a firm hand on the back of your head, guiding you back down to his waiting member.

"You won't miss this chance, do you?" he asked with a sly, seductive whisper, his golden eyes glinting with mischief as he encouraged you to re-kiss the tip of his cock.

Wanting this moment too, you kissed the tip of Keith's member before obediently wrapping your lips around the thick shaft, sucking gently as requested.

Keith's grin widened as pleasurable sensations began to spread through his body, his cock pulsating inside your small, pretty mouth. Seizing a handful of your hair, Keith gently guided you in the rhythm he knew would bring him great pleasure.

"Faster, my doe...suck me harder," Keith groaned, his pleasure growing.

However, you were struggling to accommodate Keith's massive size, nearly choking as your throat burned from the intense depth he was pushing for.

Keith's grip on your hair tightened slightly as he leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your ear.

"Relax your throat, allow my cock to slide down smoothly...don't tense up," he whispered, his voice laced with sensual instruction. "Breathe through your nose...take it slow and steady, my lovely doe."

With patient guidance and your best efforts, Keith was eventually able to slide his entire impressive length down your throat, eliciting a pleasured groan of approval from the prince.

---

As you continued sucking in rhythm, you even began vibrating your lips against Keith's shaft, sending pleasurable waves through the prince's body.

"Take me more..." Keith groaned, his hips starting to thrust roughly in time with your movements as his arousal grew. He could feel his climax approaching, ready to erupt within the eager mouth before him.

His wicked mind was ecstatic at the thought of making you drink his release, determined to have you swallow every last drop.

As he reached his peak, Keith's member pulsed and throbbed, flooding your mouth with his hot, thick seed. To ensure you swallowed every ounce, Keith gripped your head firmly, preventing you from pulling away as he continued pumping cum into your eager mouth.

"This is what happens when you visit me during the night, no matter the reason," Keith purred, savoring the moment of decadent release with his drunken, unsuspecting companion.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

The next morning, you found yourself at a local bakery, a freshly baked baguette filled with milky cheese catching your eye.

Your thoughts instantly drifted back to the previous night's bizarre events, still unsure what to make of Keith's massive manhood that you had sucked on under the mistaken belief it was a baguette.

The lewd scene played out in your mind once more. As you stood there lost in thought, a warm breath suddenly tickled your ear.

"If you want another 'baguette' of mine, why don't you visit me again later tonight?" Keith whispered, his voice unmistakable.

Your blush deepened as you suddenly felt Keith's teeth gently nip at your earlobe, a teasing gesture that left you flushed and staring longingly at the innocent bakery baguette.

It seemed your drunken misadventures with the prince were far from over.

[scorchieart]

Doodles and Dust

Genre: Slice of Life

Characters: Jin Grandet, Sariel Noir

Wordcount: 700

Prompts: In the shadows, Make it...

A/N: My gift for the 2024 Ikemen Exchange over on @flash-exchange for @pathogenic. Despite them having one of my favorite friendships in the game, I don't often write these two together. So I'm very happy I got to work on this for ya, Ollie!

“Cinnamon sticks, old man— You scared the sugarcubes outta me,” Jin heaved, clutching the door with one hand and his chest with the other. It always was a shock running into him unscheduled. Doubly so in a dark attic.

Sariel did not look up from the trunk he rifled through. “If you are looking for your magazines, Prince Yves disposed of them last week,” he said.

“Magazines?” scoffed Jin. “You misunderstand. I am here for the same noble reason as yourself.” 

“How fortuitous that we both elected to use our lunch breaks productively today.” Sariel lifted his head and cobwebs swayed off his hair giving his face a ghoulish glow. “I have this area covered. Please start by searching there.” He pointed to a corner where stacks of dusty bookshelves leaned against one another in ominous invitation.

Jin groaned, masking it with a blazing grin. “You’re looking for a magazine, right?” 

The entirety of Sariel’s annoyance flashed with a single eyebrow twitch. “A notebook. Red. With my handwriting.”

“Embarrassing diary entries from your youth, eh?”

“An accelerated course is necessary to bring Belle up to speed with Rhodolite’s governance,” Sariel explained soberly. “I thought it prudent to reference study plans I developed from Prince Leon’s early tutoring days. Why reinvent the wheel?”

It was just a joke. Jin raised his arms in surrender and waddled over to the shelves, each so full to bursting, grabbing one book might topple the entire configuration.

Where to begin? 

Behind looked most stable. Plus he could hide there and snooze. Hey, this was supposed to be break time.

Jin scooted into the shadows, but something already occupied his napping spot. Carefully, carefully, he pulled out a large, ornate frame.  From first glance it looked like a typical painting of the palace grounds—lush rosebushes clearly recognizable to any Rhodolitian visitor—with seven tiny figures scattered across. Boys. But closer inspection revealed more; the boys were not in fact original subjects of the painting but crudely pasted on, torn edges revealing glimpses of different origins. On top of it all, notable blots of ink were scribbled over the scene, as though someone had once left behind harsh criticisms of the work.

“No way!” Jin exclaimed, “I thought I lost this ages ago!”

“And I thought those pieces were pilfered ages ago,” Sariel called as he joined him.

“You never asked. I never told,” Jin said, studying the collage. Long ago, this attic was his preferred place to practice quill-usage in solitude. He reverently glided his fingers over the markings. A pair of dark gloves covered the twins’ interlocked hands. A wide smile cut across Chevalier’s stoic face. Tears welling in Clavis’s eyes replaced with glittering stars. Even Sariel’s fury melted at the doodles.

To a child, the attic is an escape to worlds beyond imagination. To an adult, it is a prison of memory.

“Someone’s missing,” Sariel commented.

“Well, Luke wasn’t around yet.”

“Yes. But I meant His Majesty.”

Jin inhaled. “He wouldn’t have fit. They don’t make portraits that small for kings,” he said.

“But you left a sizable gap in the middle there.”

“As if I’d remember my muse from that long ago?”

“As well as you remembered to discard your drafts, it seems.” Sariel approached the frame and plucked a loose paper sticking out from the corner. Jin reflexively snatched it from his hands.

“Oh my. Embarrassing doodles from your youth?” Sariel asked with glee.

“Yves just missed a page,” Jin said, stuffing it into his pocket. Sariel decided not to comment on how Jin accidentally revealed his lie. Nor how he spotted the unmistakable drawing of a dark-haired boy with glasses on that paper.

“Goodness, how time flies!” Sariel announced. “I can always create a new study plan—Prince Luke requires one regardless. And speaking of recreating things for Prince Luke…” he mused, one hand stroking his chin. “It would be short notice, but I don’t believe the royal painter would mind. And gathering the princes would be beneficial for Belle to interrogate you all at once.”

The attic was indeed a place to unearth memories. Sometimes it worked well to inspire new ones, too.

Jin beamed. “Fine, but you’re standing next to me. Got it?”

Ever helpful, Rio volunteered to organize the entire event. He swiftly located and invited the royal painter from the farthest edge of the kingdom, booked and gathered the princes in the ballroom (resolving any and all inter-factional scheduling and squabbling conflicts that arose), and gallantly escorted Belle to the venue all with such efficiency, the princes invited him to join in for the painting. Neither Jin nor Sariel protested when he perched himself between them bearing the biggest smile of the bunch.

And that’s my headcanon for the story behind the 1st anniversary group portrait :)

[solomons-poison]

Unpredictability

Chevalier Michel x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: OK I had to do just a little bit more with the Chev thoughts of having a daughter, connected to my headcanon post here, so just have this little slice of life thing. Papa Chevalier has a very special place in my heart ❤️

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: fem reader, reader is the mother of Chev's daughter and queen of Rhodolite; just some sweet fluff mostly in Chevalier's perspective; Chev is likely OOC for a bit lol; not proofread~

: ̗̀➛ Word count: 2193

Chevalier had a knack for predictions. His perception had always been extraordinary, able to pick up the smallest of clues from his environment and the people around him to know what would happen next. It aided him in his development as a prince, working with his brothers to keep the kingdom running smoothly as his father’s health declined, and it helped him now that he was the king of that same kingdom. He was a monster on the battlefield, strategically taking down enemies with the ease of a beast, and was equally a monster in the courts, always knowing what information was needed where and who to deal with.

When it came to you, however, you were his blind spot.

No amount of strategy and foresight could have prepared him for the way your fates intertwined, or the way you captured his very heart in the palm of your hand. A younger Chevalier would have scoffed at such a notion, that he had the human emotion to even fall in love to begin with when he was most aptly labeled as the "Brutal Beast" by every possible noble in the court. But of course all it took was the wisdom and pure heart of Belle to look deep inside and find the truth. Looking back on the events leading up to the discovery of these feelings, once he met you, he realized it couldn't have gone any other way.

You managed to surprise him at every turn, with your unending love, your wisdom, your thoughtfulness and devotion. That's what made you fit to be his queen, someone that helped him bring out and connect with his human side. The day he married you was something he never could have dreamed of in a hundred years, and even much less so, the tiny babbling bundle you delivered into your lives a year later.

Now he watched as his tiny daughter, three years old and full of toddler mischief, ran through the rose gardens of the palace at alarming speed, eager to see you again after being separated during a diplomatic trip– and she wasn’t the only one that was eager. He could just make out the top of her head, her hair color the exact same as yours and bouncing along as she moved.

That was something he was thankful for, the way his daughter resembled you in so many ways. Her hair color, the shape of her face, even her personality and stubbornness was coming to resemble you too, and he had no doubt the similarities would continue as she grew older. She was also attached to books the same, though honestly he was just as much at fault for that as his queen. However, the one thing that differed was that she had inherited his eyes, a strong clear blue that somehow looked right into your soul.

The little princess was beginning to learn how to use those ice blue eyes to her advantage, much to his amusement. When something didn't go her way, she'd glare at whoever was responsible in no dissimilar way to his own until they cracked from the pressure. It was no end of stress to Sariel or his brothers, realizing there was a little Chev 2.0 in the making. She'd even turned that icy gaze onto him, too, managing to surprise him.

Anyone that looked at her knew immediately whose daughter it was, and something about that sentiment, creating this tiny human so clearly made up of his traits and yours together, warmed him up inside.

Getting lost in his reverie, he quickly lost sight of his small child and hastened his pace. The full bushes made it difficult to keep his eye on her, even with his keen eye and sense of danger, so outside excursions were often accompanied by extra help such as the servants or even Lucien on rare occasion. Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary today as you were the one waiting at the end of their journey through the garden, and the thick foliage made the path clear, leading up to a gazebo.

Just as the image of your face came to mind, he could hear a loud exclamation from up ahead, and turned a corner in time to watch his daughter run into your waiting arms.

“Mama!”

You couldn’t help but grunt from the force with which you were tackled, but your arms wrapped around your daughter as she gripped you tightly.

“Hi, my love! I've missed you,” you said, pulling back to kiss the top of her head. You noticed the missing presence of your husband, glancing around before looking back at your child. “I’m so happy to see you again. Where’s your papa at, can you tell me?”

“Papa is slow,” your daughter mumbled, the excitement of seeing you lost already as she caught sight of the butterflies flitting about from bloom to bloom behind you.

Her wording made you giggle against your better judgment. Your husband could be described as many things, but you were certain the word “slow” was not one of them. But almost as if summoned, his platinum blond head came into view over the bountiful rose bushes, and it was as if all was suddenly right with the world— even if he did have a slight frown on his face.

“Little rabbit, I’ve told you not to run ahead in the gardens,” he sighed, entering the gazebo and patting his daughter’s head roughly. Instantly, her attention turned back to him, two pairs of ocean blue eyes meeting briefly before she looked away.

“‘M sorry, papa, I won’t do it again,” she replied, reaching out to hug his leg, gripping the fabric of his pants with tiny hands. Anyone else that saw this scene would expect the King to be cold and unfeeling in response, but instead he sighed, patting her hair awkwardly without a word.

You watched all this quietly, unable to fight the smile that made its way onto your face. The method of his comforting reminded you much of the early days of your relationship in which he did the same, unsure how to touch you or perhaps even afraid to hurt you. Chevalier may have been called the Brutal Beast for his actions, but he was really more of a beast for the way he was unused to loving human touch.

Over time, he’d eventually grown better and more confident with touching you, a way to express his unending love for you that he couldn’t express with his serious and less-than-romantic words. But it all seemed to revert the moment your daughter was born.

You remembered the very first time he had held her. All his brothers and the palace physician had waited with bated breath, and it was clear in Chevalier’s expression that he had his own reservations about what he was about to do. How could hands used for killing, hands used for exterminating the threats to the kingdom and defending the borders, possibly be suitable for holding that of his small, innocent child? The moment his daughter was placed in his arms, his discomfort was extremely clear –to you, at least– arms frozen stiff in an attempt to be gentle to the tiny creature he'd been entrusted with. But it was this same discomfort and worried reaction that showed you just how much he actually cared about her, and about you, too.

The memory brought a smile to your face, which was met by a strong, familiar poke to the forehead.

“Do not let your head get caught in the clouds, Rabbit,” Chevalier said. His voice was chastising, but the smirk gracing his lips was soft, sweet, making your heart thump.

Chevalier caught sight of one of his brothers out of the corner of his eye, a familiar flop of lilac hair waiting just beyond an ivy-covered arch by the gazebo. It reminded him how, as his daughter grew and came to differentiate his brothers, an unfortunate attachment had grown to a particular somebody. Much to his dismay, his daughter seemed to like her uncle Clavis the most, often shouting his name and using her stubby legs to seek him out when she could, and the feeling was mutual with the resident troublemaker. And Clavis delighted in this fact, often rubbing that in his older brother’s face and using it as an excuse to irritate him at every turn.

But today, Chevalier would use it to his advantage if it meant having you to himself, at least for a little bit. He knelt down to eye level with his child, peering into her familiar ice blue eyes.

“Little rabbit, I want to speak to your mother,” he said. He turned in the direction of his brother, pointing to direct his daughter’s attention in the same direction as well. “Why don’t you go see your uncle Clavis? He’s waiting for you in the gardens.”

His daughter’s eyes widened to a comical size, filled with excitement. Her head whipped around to search, despite Chevalier’s finger pointing the way, but thankfully, Clavis was accompanied by his trusty attendant, Cyran, who popped his head out at the perfect time to catch her attention. His shock of red hair made him look like a human rose, against the background of the gardens.

A shrill shriek filled the air, causing you and Chevalier to wince simultaneously. “Unca Cwavis and Cyan!” Your daughter was still having trouble pronouncing her L’s and R’s, but the men didn't mind. Chevalier watched as his daughter shot forward, “Cyan” quickly bowing to Chevalier in greeting before catching the girl in his arms. As he watched the two leave, he felt an arm slip through his and turned to look at you.

“I’ve missed you too, King Chevalier. I’m so glad to see you look okay,” you said, your relief evident in your smile. “How was everything during the visit? Did everything go alright?”

Chevalier huffed at your questions. “Would I have returned so soon if things did not go well?”

Your face scrunched up for a moment, but you were used to Chevalier’s sass.

“I know, but I’m still allowed to worry about you,” you said, leading Chevalier over to a bench in the gazebo. “The people of Rhodolite know now what a kind King you are, but I can’t say the same about people in other countries. And I know you’re capable of handling many things, but I still don’t want you to get hurt. I’ll always wish for your safety and good health, can’t I wish that for my own husband?”

Chevalier took a moment to look at your face, eyes following the curve of your eyebrows and lips, the shape of your nose and jaw, all features he had long since memorized. Finally, he simply snorted, reaching a hand up to poke your forehead again as a smile made its way onto his lips.

“That is awfully sentimental, and also unnecessary,” he said. “I am not so weak as to be felled so easily. I will always return to my Rabbit in the end, so long as you wish to wait for me.”

Now who’s being sentimental? You didn’t dare say that to his face, although the caution was unnecessary, given the way he was always able to read your thoughts based on your expressions alone. His smile turned teasing, clearly knowing what you were thinking, but he didn’t comment further on it.

“Now, I believe you’re forgetting something,” he said expectantly.

He watched as your head tilted in confusion. The gears were clearly turning in your head to determine what he was waiting for, but it only took a moment for understanding to dawn on your face, your lips curving up into a warm smile.

“Welcome home, Chevalier,” you said, stretching up to place a soft kiss to his cheek.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he returned the kiss to your lips, the taste of home filling his senses. He didn’t speak further, but he didn’t have to. Every ounce of his love was put into his kisses, and you gladly accepted it all.

Neither of you could have ever predicted being here, Chevalier least of all. His life had become a fairy tale on par with the romance books he enjoyed reading but never totally understood. No amount of strict noble education, military strategy, or the annoying words of a certain foolish brother could have told him that a future like this was possible. But as he held you close under cover of the gazebo, happy to finally have you in his arms once again, he realized he was okay with that. You came into his life in a whirlwind of drama and intrigue, turning his expectations around and introducing him to so many unfamiliar things and feelings, like fatherhood, yearning, and love. It wore on him, at times, not being able to see where his future was heading thanks to all the new things he was experiencing by your side. However, so long as it was with you, Chevalier supposed he was okay with a little bit of unpredictability.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[rjthirsty]

Gilbert Predator/Prey

Words: 2,600

Tags: Biting, Female Reader, Possessive Behavior, PIV sex, Smut, Kinktober2024, creampie

A/N: @moonstruckmelancholic requested a Predator/Prey with Gilbert, with a quote prompt that is in also in the fic as part of my 100 followers event. I hope I did it justice.

Prince Gilbert never took his eye off you.

He watched as you made your way through the social circles in the ballroom. Chatting with other men. Laughing at their jokes. The way they touched your shoulder, your arm, your lower back. You never reciprocated, but they were touching you and you were not theirs.

He watched as you danced with nearly every Rhodolite prince. The way they all doted on you. The way they held hands with you. The way you smiled when they leaned close to speak privately to you. You were gorgeous in the way you moved about the room, but you were being led by someone else. Someone who you didn’t belong to.

He watched as you glanced around the room, feeling someone’s gaze on you. Your eyes found his. You’d quickly avert your gaze. No one was supposed to know the two of you were close. So close. And with a renewed attempt, you’d continue to be part of the merrymaking ignoring the way he watched your every move.

When you excused yourself, Prince Gilbert was waiting outside the restroom, the hallway deserted save for you two. Your heart thumped a warning. His cane thumped the wall, preventing you from moving past him. He stepped close - so close - to mutter in your ear. “The next hand that touches my pretty little rabbit will be broken.”

The threat causes you to tremble. Or was it the way his breath gusted against your ear? Was it from excitement or fear? The tiny thrill you got from his promise of violence was not something you wanted to admit or look too closely at.

His gloved fingers trail from the nape of your neck down your spine to the swell of your ass. Your lips part in a silent sigh of longing, hoping there would be more, but his cane lowers from in front of you and you knew he was dismissing you. Letting you go for now.

You press your lips back together and take a breath to calm your rapidly beating heart. Knowing you've been released from between the black tiger's claws. He was toying with you. Showing you how easy it was to corner you and set your heart racing.

Returning to the party, your thoughts were preoccupied. Thoughts of him. Thoughts of what he does to you– with you. His threat repeating each time someone spoke to you, suddenly more conscious of who reached for you and moving out of their way.

No one touches you but him.

You look for him among the crowd. Surely he's watching. He's always watching. But from where you can't tell. You can't find his hungry eye or sharp grin. Perhaps it's a ploy to get you to let your guard down. Perhaps he's nearer than you think and as soon as an accidental touch reaches you he'll make himself known with violence and power.

Perhaps it's time to retire to prevent such a thing.

As soon as you cross the threshold to your room you can feel it. He's there. The air hums, vibrating inside you, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end. Slowly, cautiously, deliberately, you close the door, turning the lock into place.

You've trapped yourself with him. You turned your back to him. You're showing him how much you trust by putting your neck between his jaws and hoping he doesn't crush the life out of you.

Like the monster he is, he coalesces out of the shadows. You can't see him, eyes pinned to the door just like he pins you there. His body behind you, pressed against you. His hands trace your curves. His voice sweetly purrs, heated breath on your neck. “You've pleased me, Little Rabbit. Coming to see me right away.”

The familiar feel of luxurious leather slides under your jaw as his gloved fingers trace to your chin and over your throat to come to a rest on your pulse. You already know by the way your chest is pounding that he’ll be pleased with how it’ll flutter under his fingers. This time you know it isn’t fear. This time you know it’s excitement and the thrill of what is to come. Will he be rough? Will he be kind? How will he conquer you tonight?

His free hand makes quick work of the laces holding your dress together. Much too quick. In a matter of seconds, your fancy gown is nothing more than a splendid pool of color encircling your feet.

Your heart beats harder. Beats faster. His lips touch the curve of your neck and you can feel him smiling. He's pleased. Then his teeth sink into flesh and the pain that accompanies his love sears a mark into your skin.

You cover your mouth to prevent the cry that threatens to spill from you. Fingers press tight to lips pursed and teeth clenched. Gilbert relents on your shoulder, his tongue soothing the burn that he inflicted upon you. His cooler temperature helps ease the pain. His tongue velvety soft as he laps at the angry mark.

Your fingers fall from your lips and a sigh floats out of you. Gil's fingers fall from your throat, drifting over your clavicle to the swell of your breasts. Pushed into two lovely mounds by your corset, his leather-clad digits draw across each pillowy tit, promising a gentleness Gilbert is not known for.

The sudden tugging of the ties on your corset is a drastic contrast to the light touch you had just been granted. Almost violently, Gilbert removes the shell that covered your chest. He discards it out of your sight, but you can hear the stiff fabric hit the floor.

Then he is gone from your proximity. He moves with precision and grace. You watch as he circles the room, pulling off accessories and gloves and shirts and nearly disrobing fully, his dark red eye landing on you expectantly. His gaze could pin you to the spot or pull you to him like a glowing lure, and right now you feel the call of his command leading you to step out of your shoes and drop the last garment covering your sex as you move to in front of him.

“Show me.” The way his lips pull back from his teeth to reveal his deadly maw in such a beautiful smile hastens the wetness growing between your legs. 

Obediently, you crawl onto the bed. Rising to your knees, facing him, legs spread for balance, you keep your eyes locked on him, watching him like he watches you. Hungry. Needy. But unlike him, so obedient and desperate.

Your lips part and your tongue makes an appearance as you lick two of your fingers, drawing them into your mouth to thoroughly wet them. Reaching between your legs, you slide your wet digits between your labia where your body lacks lubricant, pushing against the sides of your clit and giving it a cheeky little rub before you move to where you need no additional moisture. Your entrance is already slick. Slipping your fingers in up to the first knuckle, your cunt mourns the loss of your own touch as you lift your sticky arousal to fulfill Gilbert's order.

A thin thread strings between your fingers as you spread them, displaying how wet he makes you. He is pleased, once again. Practically salivating at the thought of devouring you.

The distance between you shrinks. His hand takes hold of your wrist. His tongue runs the length of your wet fingers, bringing them into his mouth for him to savor your taste. It's sinful, the way he sucks on them. One cleaned fully, he pops it out of his mouth, sucking the last of you off the other. Then his teeth take hold and it takes everything in you to not pull away.

Almost apologetically, Gil sucks your finger again, his tongue swirling around it as the tip toys with the indents he just made in your skin. His lips are soft. Dragging your finger from his mouth, he lets you linger - the only time you will be granted your own actions. And linger you do. Brushing his bottom lip that holds such softness in sweet kisses but hides the sharp sting of his bite.

His teeth catch your finger again, biting for only a second before his tongue laps at the blooming mark and his mouth moves to the next spot. Like a lover kissing his way to your mouth, Gilbert travels up your arm with bites more painful than nips and soothing licks that barely ease the ache of his teeth.

You rush to meet his mouth. Tongues caressing and tasting each other. The bed dips from his weight. His cool fingers roughly push between your folds. You gasp as he hooks them inside you, searching for that rougher patch not far inside your entrance. He swallows your moan. He steals your breath. He is relentless.

Gilbert descends on you. Without the need to guide you, he overpowers you. You bend beneath him. Shrink and fold and crawl and submit until you're on your back and he's above you. Your mouths barely separate and his fingers in your cunt continue to press and rub and curl offering a kindness for everything he's taking from you.

His thumb tucks next to your clit, pushing back the hood to strum your sensitive bud. It firms up immediately and he swirls it around with the pad of his thumb, pressing into the nerves below the surface. His fingers inside you continuing to coax a climax from you.

His mouth leaves yours. You're gasping for breath. Muffled moans no longer muted, now allowed to sound freely. A sharp hiss between your teeth when he closes you between his teeth. Your neck. Your shoulder. Your breast. His painful proclamations of adoration are scattered over your body. But wherever his teeth go, his tongue follows and the pleasure from his sucks, licks, and kisses are enough to forgive his sharp fangs.

You reach your peak and tip over the edge. Thighs squeezing together. Cunt clenching but his two fingers are not enough to feel full from. Your walls flutter and search for something more. It could have been so much more if he had just fucked you first. But Gilbert was a man that didn't freely give. He knew he'd have you craving him if he provided an inch for every mile you needed.

His fingers glisten as he licks your arousal from them. You're more than just obedient now. You're addicted. He is all of your thoughts. He is your heart. You breathe for him and him alone. And you would gladly let him have you any way he wants.

“Roll over my little rabbit.”

On hand and knees, you can feel him moving behind you. Removing his last article of clothing. Knees setting on the outside of your legs. He can't help but run a finger over your wet slit. He seems to love the way you taste as much as you love him tasting you. Fingers and thumbs grip your hips and he directs you into more of a tilt, bringing your ass higher and your pussy closer to him. Palms brush your lower back, pushing your hips further in a tilt and guiding you to your elbows.

His cock slides along your wet folds teasingly. “Beg me to be gentle.”

“Please…” You whimper, leaning towards him in an attempt to get him to slip inside you.

“Little Rabbit~.” He prompts, the tip of his dick slowly pushing into your entrance but stopping only just inside.

You lean towards him again but his hand holds the two of you from coming together. “Hnmph.” You pout. “Please, Gil…”

“Please, what?” As a reward, he pushes another inch inside you.

“Please, Gil, please. Please fuck me. Please! I want to feel you inside me, please! I need you inside me. Ah–!”

What was taking too long suddenly came too fast. Gilbert's cock shoved inside you with no regard for lubing himself. It entered easily at first, but his length eventually used up the slickness at your hole becoming rough and dragging the last few inches. His hand clamps on your hip, holding you from pulling away from him. His other hand sits flat on your lower back, keeping you angled how he had arranged you. 

“That's not right, now is it?” Without giving you the chance to accommodate or adjust, he starts pounding into you. The discomfort is hardly noticeable with the way your walls quiver finally being stimulated. It's mind numbing. It's hard to think. It just feels so good.

“Haah! Ah! Hnnah!” You can't even get a word out as his force and pace smacks the moans from your throat. It's so good. So good.

“Such a pervert.” He says the words adoringly. There is no shame or disgust, just delight. “Ahaha-ah.” Skin slaps. Your whole body rocks with each thrust. “Little Rabbit- hnnh- wants it rough.”

“Uh-huhn. Uhn. Ahnh.” You shove your face into the mattress, hands under your shoulders to keep you from putting too much pressure on your neck. Tipping your tailbone up, you try to offer more of your pussy to him. He’d go deeper if you moved closer. Feeling his cock hammering into you is exactly the sort of thing you need right now.

His fingers dig in harder on your hip. He's enjoying this. Your ass blushes from the impact of his hips. If your pussy was easier to see, it would be a lovely shade of pink as well. But the view Gilbert gets to witness is brief but erotic - his cock pistoning into you, disappearing down to his black bush.

Your legs begin to tremble. You can feel the next orgasm tensing within you. Your back naturally tries to straighten as your muscles begin to flex, but Gil's hand holds you down, tipped in that delicious angle. Fingers curl into the blankets. Moans become more strangled and desperate.

“Haahh, you feel so good.” Gilbert groans.

Just like that the tension snaps and sends you into body shaking convulsions. Gil slows down, rocking into you. Nuzzling deep and slow. Your cunt clinches him and he drags you down his length. His flat palm on your lower back presses harder, fingertips flexing into you. Your climax washes up your spine to the base of your skull and that wonderful weightlessness drowns your thoughts.

Gilbert strokes himself through your orgasm. Gentle words praising you. Filthy words complimenting you. Each sound he makes draws your spasms out longer and longer until you don't think you can keep it up. Coming this hard - this long - it was too much. It was exhausting but so so good. It was mind-numbing but sent sensations sizzling in every part of you.

“Haahng. Hngh. Aah. Ngh” Gil moans when he comes. His cock throbs so deep in your cunt. Shivers shake you, dancing from erogenous zones to fingertips and toes. He finally stops moving. Stops stimulating your swollen cunt. You are granted time to catch your breath and your sanity. Gilbert panting above you. You gasping below him.

When he pulls out, you can feel the mess between your legs. He slowly helps you move out of your contortions. Stiff joints from too much pressure in a position for too long. But he's there to ease your weight and move your limbs. You lie there sprawled on the bed, Gilbert clinging to you for warmth. But also a protective need to claim you as only his. Curling around his treasure like a greedy dragon clutching his most valuable possession.

He truly needn't worry. You were his from the moment he caught you in his dark red eye. You delight in placing yourself within his claws and between his teeth. Even when he digs into you, and pain burns where he rends, he'll lick your wounds and fill you with his need. He is yours as much as you are his. 

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

The Littlest Lelouch

Characters: Clavis Lelouch, unnamed wife, OC (baby), brief cameos

Rating: pg13 (?)

Genre: Saccharine fluff, dash of angst, humor (sfw)

WC: 1,296

Warnings: Mentions of battle/blood/death (none happen on-screen), mentions of pregnancy and birth (none graphic), afab oc/insert and female pronouns, (are babies a tw?), humor of the aerin variety, not proofread, potential minor Clavis route spoilers?

Request?: Yes (currently open? also yes. pls see pinned first!)

Summary: As it would happen, having to work with the bloody beast means often having to pick up after said beast, or even indulge in the sins of war. Unfortunately for Rhodolite palace’s resident mischief maker, the call of his duty could not have come at a worse time.

A/N: Apologies if it is a bit OOC or would benefit from better pacing, I haven't read Clavis' route in a bit and he's a little tricky to nail at times without me getting cliché. (Sorry this one isn't gender neutral, for the folks familiar with my general fluff.) I worked to the best of my current ability, as the request was a bit vague. Feel free to stop by and request again sometime, nonnie!

          Clavis’ wife was due soon, expecting their first child amidst the frills and flowers that come with Spring. And excited they were to welcome the newest member of the Lelouch gang when Clavis suddenly receives summons for a round table meeting. It isn’t until much later that he returns, brows furrowing as he walks through the doors to the couple’s shared room at the palace.

         “Dearie me,” Clavis starts, running a singular gloved hand through his lilac locks, boring holes into the wall as he figured out how to best break this to his very pregnant wife. No amount of trying to haggle with the court would get him out of this, much as he tried. Hesitantly, Clavis’ wife pipes up, wanting to console her husband who seems he may fray at the seams any moment.

         “What’s wrong, Clavis? Cat got your tongue?” She jokes, waddling over best as she can, causing Clavis to fret and meet her halfway. He is far too overprotective sometimes, she feels, but understands he is that way out of sheer love for her.

         “Council was held today.” Clavis starts, receiving an acknowledging hum from his wife. At his uncharacteristic pause, she nods, gently trying to urge him to continue his train of thought. “I will have to be away for a while,” and in true Clavis fashion, he tries to soften the blow the best way he knows how.

         “Oh, but don’t you both go missing me too much. I know just how to console my lovely, dearest wife-”

         “Clavis.” If he insists on acting fine, then she will shoulder it for them both and allow him to save face.. this time. “I’ll miss you too, darling. Please come home safe.” With eyes that look like he is trying his best to hold back tears, Clavis dons his most convincing smile, gently pulling his wife in as closely as he comfortably can by her waist.

         “I knew you couldn’t resist your handsome husband,” he murmurs, pressing a loving kiss to her lips, fitting every apology known to man in the sincere way Clavis cherishes her so. Pulling away, he rests his head atop hers, cursing his fate and drasted brother for nearly ruining yet another special occasion in his life.

…

         As the fateful day comes, Clavis parts from his beautiful wife, reassuring her he will be fine just as much as she does him. Riding off atop his royal steed, he waves farewell without looking back, steeling himself and all of his best inventions to end this damn thing as early as physically possible. In his plan, he hopes to lure out the enemies and confuse them with his myriad of (smoke) bombs, so that he and Chevalier may be able to finish with time to spare.

         “If I miss my child’s birth, this time I really will kill you,” Clavis threatens. At this, Chevalier simply scoffs and rides away. Cyran shakes his head, a mundane ordeal when it comes to these two.

         As fate would have it, back at the castle, just a few days after the second and third prince had set out to quell skirmishes along the borders, his wife goes into labor. It would seem the third prince’s child was not a very patient one, wishing to meet everyone as quickly as possible. Panic spreads, the early arrival of the baby having the maids rush to get everything together shortly after her water breaks. Though her husband is not present in body, he is present with her in spirit, and in all of the reading they had done together to better prepare themselves for their little one’s arrival.

         After many painful hours, a cry is heard, and thus the third prince of Rhodolite and his wife welcome a tiny baby Lelouch into the world. Hardly visible for how light a color it is, there are the smallest tufts of the signature lilac stands upon her head, and piercing eyes of gold. Having already decided upon possible names beforehand, his wife holds baby Felicia (a tribute to Clavis’ late mother Leticia) in her arms, exhausted but moved to tears over the life they created, together.

         It isn’t until two full days later, that Clavis returns home. The congratulations he receives upon his arrival is both the best and worst of news, for he is grateful they are both alive and well, but terribly distraught to have missed the birth of his first child (and being unable to support his wife as she always does him). He quickly stops by the baths, not wanting to greet them with blood still on his person.

         Gingerly, Clavis makes his way to where he finds both of his Lelouch girls, heart caught in his throat at the sight. Upon his arrival, their daughter is waving her hands around, trying to grab at her mother while she rocks her gently and sings. The gentle smile on her face brings back bittersweet memories, and an ache for a loved one he will never see again. He knows how loved their child will be, even in the most cursed depths of the royal court, and vows to never allow a hair on their heads harm, lest their enemies summon the nightmare that is Lelouchian fury above them. (Assuming they can read the warning letter.)

         “Welcome home, Clavis.” Having spotted him out of the corner of her eye, Clavis’ wife brandishes her grin his way, the glow apparent from what he could only describe as “the light of a thousand- no, a million- no, a hundred million suns!”

          “And say hi to your daddy, Felicia,” she coos, patting the baby’s back gently as she sits up further in bed. “But please don’t learn from his example.” Clavis theatrically slaps a hand over his chest, looking exasperated, as if he hasn’t the faintest clue what she could be referring to.

         “What better example would she have to learn from, aside from my most lovely wife?” Clavis sits at the edge of the bed by her side, leaning in to place a kiss to her forehead, lingering at her scent. “Would you rather she learn from one of my brothers?” At her grimace, he laughs, husky and warm and everything deliciously Clavis.

         “I was hoping Sariel could tutor her the way he did me,” she jokes, enjoying the look Clavis shoots her. “I’m kidding, love. Honestly.” He is still grimacing when she stifles her laugh. “Would you like to hold her?”

         Nothing in the world could have prepared Clavis for the reaction of finally getting to hold his beautiful, delicate baby girl in his arms… only to have her immediately begin wailing. Clavis tries everything he can to get her to stop crying, but she is only finally comforted by the feel and smell of mom, who she has become most acquainted with in her two shorts days on this Earth. A true connoisseur knows how to relish in the saltiest of tears, but these in particular left a sting in his heart. But no matter, he won over his wife’s heart, and he’ll win over his daughter’s affections. Clavis understands the appeal of being in his wife’s arms, he must admit, only slightly jealous of all her attention not being on him now.

         And if there’s anything that made Clavis happier than his wedding and the birth of his child, it’s that his little girl would prove to show her affections with signature Lelouch pitfalls. Clavis-patented, Yves-tested, Felicia-approved.

[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”

[aquagirl1978]

I think now I just may take you up on that offer after the week I have had! (If it still stands)

How would Chevalier act with a s/o who has had a challenging couple of weeks, im talking it’s just one bad thing after the other and she’s left burnt out and in need of some real tlc and comfort!!

- med anon 🚑

I am so sorry this took me so long - summer has not been easy on me. I tried something a bit different, a mix of headcanons and a short drabble. I hope you've had a relaxing and calm summer, and good luck with the new school year.

It's the little things he does that truly show just how much he cares.

He doesn't need to hear the words come out of your mouth; your emotions are written all over your face.

He knows how dedicated you are to being the absolute best that you can be, and he is in awe of the person you have become.

But he also knows that you are stubborn to a fault, and that you would rather work yourself to the point of exhaustion than admit you need a break.

Leaving it in his hands to gauge when you need the quiet affection that only he can provide to you.

Chevalier pushed open the door to the bedroom and found you sitting up in bed, a book opened on your lap. He could tell had just gotten into bed - your hair was still pinned up. But you took the time to change into one of his plain shirts.

Chevalier smirked; as adorable as you looked wearing his clothes, he preferred it when you weren't wearing anything to bed.

He closed the door with a soft click and you didn't look up. As he approached the bed, the closer he got, the more aware he became of the frustration etched on your face. Your lids were heavy as you appeared to re-read the same page over and over again.

You were clearly exhausted to the point of being overtired. And yet, you were forcing yourself to stay awake - for him.

My fool, he thought to himself. His lips formed in a slight frown, he extended his hand and gently flicked your forehead with his finger.

"Ow!" you yelped, rubbing your forehead. Looking up, you found a rather stern looking Chevalier staring back at you.

"Had I wanted you to stay up late waiting for me, I would have kept you in my office," he said with a wicked smirk.

"I stopped by Sariel's office before coming here..." you replied quietly.

Chevalier closed his eyes and sighed loudly before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Instinctively, you moved over, making room for him to sit next to you. He pulled you onto his lap, and with his thumb, tilted your face to meet his. At this close distance, it was easy to see the dark circles under your eyes, the result of numerous restless nights.

"I appreciate your efforts and your dedication to your duties." He spoke softly as he cupped your cheek in his palm, his touch warm and comforting. "But not at the expense of your well-being."

Clumsily, he pulled you into his arms, holding your head close to his heart. He began to unpin your hair, his long fingers weaving through your loose locks. When he was finished, he lay in the bed, your face nuzzled against his chest.

"I know this week was hard for you, but you can hold your head that you got through it." He placed a reverent kiss upon your forehead, while stroking your hair with his hand. "Next week will be easier."

He felt your breathing slow and knew you were close to sleep. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, promising a late morning spent together tomorrow.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome

@kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira

@crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings

@wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381

@maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia

@ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja @sh0jun

@ikesenwritings @justpeachyteastea    @kalims-pessimist-bestie @writingwhimsey @shadowylakes  

@ikeprinces-stuff @kookie-my-little-sunshine @candiedcoffeedrops @adreaminthesea

[xxsycamore]

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝟔𝟗

↬ 📜 The Belle Covenant, Clause 69: "A just king ought to give his country as much as he takes. Belle is to oversee his equal sharing, for he must learn to treat his country the way he treats a lover." Emma initiates 69 with each prince. You know, for political reasons.

Leon x Emma; Chevalier x Emma; Yves x Emma; Nokto x Emma; Licht x Emma; Jin x Emma; Clavis x Emma; Luke x Emma • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: 69 (Sex Position); Oral Sex; Rough Oral Sex; Cunnilingus; Bathroom Sex; Gentle Sex; Rough Sex; Deepthroating; Blow Jobs; Face-Sitting; Multiple Orgasms; Vaginal Fingering; Vaginal Sex • wordcount: 2,241 • masterlist

a/n: Welcome to my personal kinktober challenge, Visions of Temptation 2022 - that's right, last year's one. You can find the new one, Visions of Temptation 2023, here. DAY 1: ORAL SEX | SIXTY-NINE

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

The Belle Covenant, Clause 69:

"A just king ought to give his country as much as he takes. Belle is to oversee his equal sharing, for he must learn to treat his country the way he treats a lover."

"Now, Prince Leon, let's see if you're more of a taker or a giver…"

Propped up on his elbows on the bed, Leon had just told Emma he's hers to play with. He's so casual as ever, always there for her, ready to give a shoulder where she needs it. From how well they clicked it was bound to happen sooner or later, ending up in the same bed. Seeing Emma turn around and straddle his torso, Leon is pretty sure she's taking him for a ride.

Until she gets all comfortable with his cock in her mouth, retaining this position.

Now, Leon is not the one to idly sit and be pleased by someone without returning the gesture. It just doesn't sit right with him, when all it takes is a swift maneuver and Emma's leaking pussy would be right in front of his face and ready to be ravished.

The vigor with which Leon swirls his skilled tongue inside her depths can only be rivaled by the way hers wraps around the girth of his cock, tracing the delicious vein that protrudes on its side. She switches for teasing the slit of his tip, and Leon groans; the pleasure ricocheting right back to her core in the form of a sultry vibration.

"Suck it harder. Damn it, Emma, just like that… I'm going to cum, Emma. Cum with me."

They're locked in this loop of giving and taking all the way until their mutual peak hits. Hard.

Leon surely is a master of this trade, in addition to guiding her and praising her. She hums in bliss and takes a mental note of his skills, for future reference.

Chevalier is a tough nut to crack. First, he needs a good reason to cooperate regarding any of the clauses in the list. Why would he care? Second, he needs a good reason to comply specifically with the absurdish idea that Emma poses about 'testing his justness'. So she gets a little creative and a little mischievous, and gives him the necessary push.

In a little game of (big) cat and mouse, Emma jumps from the sofa to the bed before Chevalier can put his claws on her. Backed against the headboard of the bed, she has nowhere to escape, but the book that started it all remains in a secure hold against her chest.

"I'll give you your precious book back if you give me something in return. Or does the mighty future king of Rhodolite not see it fit to give in order to take?"

"The 'mighty future king of Rhodolite' doesn't fancy anyone touching his property with their dirty little hands," He looms in closer, caging Emma's body with his own, knowingly intimidating her, "And he has nothing to negotiate with thieves."

The book is snatched from her hands without much fight, and Emma sinks further down the headboard in defeat. The wise thing to do would be to retreat and rethink her strategy - and definitely not to try and seduce an angry Chevalier by letting out an accidental whine while she's still trapped sprawled beneath him in his lair.

Chevalier remains there, only raising an eyebrow - he shouldn't be too surprised by her open provocations at this point, but it's like he senses something genuine in her supposed act.

"You're hopeless, simpleton."

A sequence of Emma's half-spoken questions and puzzled sounds is merely background noise to the rapidly changing pace of events, as the big cat in front of her lies down and turns on his back. It's not exactly the equivalent of it trustingly showing its belly for rubs.

Emma's slightly trembling legs are gotten a secure hold of, as Chevalier drags her closer and on top of him - almost trying to be gentle but failing - until she's practically straddling his face.

Her pulse quickens rapidly as if she's been granted a throne she is unworthy of.

Just for tonight, she shuts her eyes and accepts the empowering pleasure it entails.

Sucking on her aroused nub until she sees stars, he almost makes her forget the idea behind this ordeal, until she has to remind herself about working for his pleasure too. Chevalier almost doesn't let her - at first, she thinks it's an additional dragging on of things for him, a bother. Once he lets her play with his intimidatingly big cock, though, it proves to be something different. The prideful second prince catches up with her heightened arousal shockingly quickly. His ministrations become sloppier. Such an exchange of pleasure, Emma concludes, is unfamiliar to him. He masks it very well - because by the time she reaches her own orgasm, it feels euphoric. He gave her a lot, and he took a lot, too.

Yves is almost too pretty right now. Emma laments not having him eat her out in a pose where she can watch his pretty face, his perfect features pressed into her cunt, his cute little nose squished against her clit.

His cupid's bow kissing her glistering, swollen pussy lips.

Yves maneuvers his frame swiftly over her body, just-bathed porcelain skin smelling of expensive oils and silky-to-the-touch caresses ghosting over Emma's equally cared-for body, as they shared intimacies in the bath beforehand. 

Their exchange of pleasure is harmonic; voices joining together in a melody as they moan, aromas entangling in the air and delicate sensations as they roll in the clean, luxurious bedsheets. Yves softly guides Emma's body sideways before laying down the opposite way, muscles relaxing all over, safe for the ones of their sexes which are maddeningly pulsing in a chase towards a mutual peak.

Yves' love would trick you with tasting rigid demand coated with egoism; then reminiscent of a dessert with soft-crème heart, upon a bolder bite you'll discover what having your senses spoiled really feels like.

From someone with a mouth as big as Nokto's, Emma expects nothing but a big performance to come. She's in for a little more than she bargained for, she finds out as soon as her world turns upside down.

Looking at Emma now, Nokto connects the dots rather quickly as to why she's suddenly feeling coquettish like that - lounging on his couch whenever he's around is one thing, but getting so comfy that she's basically dangling her legs over the backrest, her best bedroom eyes following Nokto upside-down… He wonders if his antics are rubbing off her, or if she's giving him a taste of his own medicine. Hands folded casually on her belly, she finally poses the question that's been hanging heavily in the air, while Nokto dresses himself for another night out. It's now or never.

Emma is suddenly the fox's appetizer when he leans down and buries his face between her legs, the hem of her dress conveniently ridden up on her waist as if to clear his way. 

She's never before given a blowjob upside-down but she likes a challenge. Nokto's crouch is right there in front of her face, so she makes quick work of his belt that he hasn't even fastened all the way earlier during his preparations for going out. It works out surprisingly well, a quick and explosively pleasurable deal sealed with a gush of fluid on their tongues.

Nokto works swiftly when there is gain for him, and surprisingly plays fair, too.

Like the carnivore he is deep inside, Licht loves taking his pray to his den. His room is mostly veiled in darkness and Emma's eyes are not well-adjusted to it by the time Licht begins ravishing her, but there is no fear in her heart. His tonguing on her heated core is calculated and it's nothing greater than what her body can take - and it comes naturally to her to want to give him something in return.

They're in no hurry, taking turns pleasuring each other, usually one being breathless and halting ministrations because of those of the other party. Emma feels shy being so vocal with a partner that only occasionally grunts every now and then. His giving is silent but evident and abundant, and she feels like putty in his strong hands. Licht takes long sweeps of his tongue on her sex, dragging her whole body back and forth with the impact, not caring that the bobbing of Emma's head turns sloppier. Once he releases his pent-up desire whole in her mouth, he tells her to spit if she wants - and feels his blood rushing forth hotly when she doesn't. In the much-appreciated post-sex cuddles session afterward, Emma catches a glimpse of a smile and dozes off contently.

Everything Emma learned about Jin's sex life, she learned against her will. Though it would be a lie if she said she wasn't once curious whether the rumors were true.

Her observations so far are that as many women the first prince has taken to bed, he is in the habit of behaving like he hasn't been with one in ages. Paying attention to every naked millimeter of her skin, Jin's hands never stop roaming, pleasuring, loving. He also eats her out as if he hasn't put food in his mouth for decades, she notices - a deep masculine grunt leaving his throat at the first taste of her hot juices on his tongue. He is a big boy who doesn't mind getting dirty, and that might be the best thing about him, as much as Emma refuses to admit. His technique is worked to perfection - the youthfully needy opening act serving just to trick her. It's funny how she attempted to blow him first and then turn it into a hot sixty-nine from there, when in reality he was the one to initiate that. Jin always struck her as the person who likes to sit back in his seat, one hand propping up his chin, one on her head, as he's been serviced. But he is a giver, a damn good giver.

Emma doesn't know why she had expectations of Clavis doing this straightforwardly and fairly, when he's already a well-known menace outside the bedroom. Being naked and open for his cruel teasings, for the touch of those wicked fingers that aim to irritate and to never satisfy, it drives her crazy. Clavis demands to be the one touching her and not the other way around - after all, there are so many ways to play with a bunny like Emma, why limit themselves to some boring position? Clavis has Emma climaxing twice on his fingers before he finally allows her to return some of the pleasure, guiding his flushed tip past her thoroughly kissed and swollen lips. She then understands - for all Clavis is worth, he's prone to becoming an absolute mess once pleasured. The little delicious gasp falling from his beautiful curved lips soon turns into a hearty moan, laced with desperateness and lust as he pushes Emma's head to urge her to take more of his cock inside her tight, warm throat. His little plan of turning her into a pliant, overstimulated pile of limbs is unsuccessful when he possesses a voice so erotic it sees her hunger awaking once again, head full of thoughts about riding him until sunrise. In addition, Clavis seems to enjoy the rougher manner of Emma seating her dripping cunt directly on his face, leaving him almost no room to breathe. Maybe riling her up was all in favor of receiving her harsh command of "Shut up already and pleasure me properly!"

The chances of coming with the upper hand when bargaining with Clavis are low, but the headaches are always worth it in the end.

Luke should have been the gentle giant who lets Emma catch a breather even in moments of burning lust. That's how she always imagined him to be with a lover - barely-there touches exchanged between relaxed sighs, lying down in some secluded napping spot that would once again serve its true purpose once every last drop of pleasure is squeezed out of their bodies.

Well. While it does sound good enough to Emma, she wouldn't trade her current position for anything in the world.

Adrenaline rushing all through her body, Emma's heart is about to leap out of her chest with the sheer lasciviousness of how Luke has her right now.

Someone as tall and strong as him, she should've prepared herself to be putty in his hands. To be folded in positions she couldn't paint with her imagination… or, like right now, to be picked up with her ass up and held in the air as Luke shamelessly devours her cunt.

With pleasure rendering her silly, she can't possibly hold back from attempting to suck his cock while in this position, even if its massiveness in its full erect glory intimidated her at first. For the timid, vanilla experience she expected, fucking like animals is the last thing she saw coming from Luke - and she suddenly finds himself at his mercy as he has complete control over her body.

The aftercare is more reminiscent of her initial thoughts, and coming down from her high never felt better. Once you awaken the slumbering monster inside the youngest prince of Rhodolite, you're in for more than you bargained for.

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