#ikeprince x reader

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

An old Captain's Song

Silvio Ricci x reader

Navi.

Warnings: pirate!silvio, siren!reader

Autumn Festival 2024

Wordcount: 500+

The water was an impenetrable dark blue where he looked upon the waves. Foam brushed against the once royal blue wood of the ship. Now, the colour was chipped and weathered from many a journey. It was lonely on deck, still he stood proud, his hair fluttering in the wind. Slowly, he stretched out his hand toward the ocean, unflinching as his frostbitten fingers complained.

This night was calmer than any night before. All he could remember was excitement. A little boy jumping on board a leaving ship, a young man – Captain for the first time – stealing a ship of the crown. And yet, in this solitude his heart beat fast.

He had first met her in a dream; saw her tugging him away from eternal light, felt her gentle touch and her sharp nails.

The songs she had sung him still rang in his heart.

She had brought him ashore and followed him since.

There was a ripple in the waves. He fixed his posture and the ocean bore him her angelic complexion. Shakily, he exhaled. She was far more beautiful than any dream could render her.

Droplets flew like crystals as she shook herself dry. Then, she met his nervous gaze and her eyes pierced him right through his chest. Her smile was stunning.

“Silvio,” she called out in that lovely sing-song of her voice. “You look so pretty.”

He blushed and hoped she did not see it in the dark. But her eyes were sharp and the amused twinkle in her eyes told him as much.

“You look heavenly.” He stumbled forward when his ears caught her giggle.

“Heavenly? Do pirates know that word?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “I do.”

At that, her gaze softened. “You look better,” she swam forward. “But thin. Are you still not eating well?”

“´ve lost my appetite.”

“Oh,” confused, she laid her head to the side. Just the way Old Lady used to when he was young. He closed his eyes, willing the image of his old Dalmatian from his mind. Those times were long gone.

“But don't worry yer pretty little head, yeah? I'll eat well soon enough.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

He chuckled. He knew she enjoyed this game, though he was unsure if that childlike entertainment made her believe that he was not in on it as well.

He longed to know the taste of her salt-tanged lips.

“How is your crew?”

“Ah, ´m sending them off soon. They're old enough to deal with ´t all by themselves.”

“But you love them.” Her tone was surprised.

“Aye. But with that growing tension… I don't know if I really wanna continue, you know sweetheart?”

“So, where will you go?” Bubbles followed the sentence and he watched her retreat further into the sea. He grinned. Sweet thing was pouting.

“Thought I'd settle down on that island you brought me to that time we met. Gotta stay with my girl, don´t I?”

At that, she almost flung herself out of the water.

“Really?”

“Course,” He leaned over the railing. “After all, you're my woman, aren't you?”

She nodded, shy.

“Yeah you are.” His eyes were lidded as he rested his arms on the railing. “Wanna sing me a song, sweet thing?”

A bright smile spread across her lips and that alone made all the years of pain and hardship in his life worth it.

[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 

[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.

[whatever-fanfics]

Imagine the princes as uncles

~~~

Ikemen prince

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

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

~~~~~

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

~~~

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

~~~

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

~~~~~

[violettduchess]

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

Chevalier x Reader

WC: 500

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When sleep pulls you under, you’re smiling.

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

@silver-dahlia @wendolrea @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody

@whatever-fanfics @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating

@portrait-ninja @sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381

@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

[articdelilah]

Hellooo I love the teen mc concept so I'm wondering if you could do it also with Leon's faction? Thank youu

✮ A Little Trouble ✮

Platonic!Ikemen Princes x Teen!Reader

Hi Anon!! Thank you so much for requesting💞 Your wish is my command! Sorry for the wait!! (I know nothing about Leon so I’m sorry if he’s OOC)

Domestic Affairs Faction

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Leon tried to argue with Sariel about his choice. This girl has school and friends and life to live! It would be horrid to put such a hard task on such young shoulders. Sariel of course did not wield with Leon’s request of changing the Belle.

By her side from day 1. He showed how the factions work and what they do, their aim and motives.

After the very hard first day with Leon, they go into town to get ice cream! Or steak. Whichever one Belle is feeling after such a day.

Leon is consistently looking out for her, making sure Chevalier doesn’t say anything too honest or hurtful. If he tries, he’ll be shut down by Leon almost immediately with furrowed brows.

Very protective but not in an overbearing way. Definitely not as subtle as the other Princes. When Belle asks to let her dual with him, he thinks about it but decides against it. He promised her that once she reads all the books Sariel assigned, then he’ll dual her fair and square. Motivation!

Belle liked to observe the man work. She sat with him, asking him questions about the different subjects and affairs that are happening in Rhodolite. She asked about Obsidian but Leon tried to avoid the topic.

Obsidian wasn’t a big threat currently and perhaps it’d be better if Sariel told her? No that would be the worst case scenario.

Leon explains Obsidian’s land, why they want to invade and their current status of threat. Belle said she’d ask Chevalier about it as well, but Leon only made a sour face.

A sudden clang of two silvery swords frightened the birds which were resting in the nearby oak tree; the birds of brown feathers sore into the clear sky as a result. The air wasn’t thick with bloodlust or hatred however instead filled with adrenaline and determination. Belle had begged Leon for them to dual for as long as she could remember, doing everything in her power to get him to agree. Sparks flew in all directions as the two continued their dual, brows creased on the young Belle’s face making Leon smile. He was so proud of her, being able to read all those books in a couple of days sure is an accomplishment. In the midst of thought, Leon was abruptly pulled away from his thoughts as a cool sharp point nudged his neck. His eyes widened as he realised he let his guard down. Despite this he couldn’t help but laugh at the distaste on Belle face “Stop going easy on me! Come on! Fight me for real!”.

“I’m trying”

Jin laughed with Clavis when he met Belle. He simply loved her already!

For the first week of Belle’s stay, he always made sure she had flowers and a few lollipops in her bedroom. Everyone needs snacks right! The flowers were simply never the same colour however. On Monday the roses were red, Tuesday they were pink.

His great hand coming down to ruffle her hair and laugh when she told Jin about her worries. After all, how can you be worried with Jin by your side? If there was anything Jin could help with, you bet he did help.

Is studying alone hard? No worries. Jin is right there to help! Want a break? Jin’ll take her to town for some food!

Belle had been working hard and Jin knew that. He wanted to take some of weight off her shoulders by making her life at the palace a little easier by doing small gestures like bringing her the heavy leather bound books Sariel assigned Belle to read back to her room.

Once Jin came back to find the new Belle alone in the drawing room. He peaked his head in and noticed that she wasn’t reading any heavy leather bound book but rather staring intensely at a fashion magazine for teen nobility.

He knocked on the door to get her attention, asking the girl what she was looking at. Belle watched him next to her as she hesitantly showed him the dress she had been looking at. Her gaze averting to the rug on the floor. Jin agreeing it would look lovely on her.

Lollipops and summer nights on the balcony>>> Late night walks around the town + the palace are very common.

He introduces Belle to his favourite tavern and shows her the nightlife of Rhodolite (without the bad stuff ofc)!

Jin usually brings her to make fun of the drunks with him, dine and chat loudly about anything that really came to mind.

The 1st Prince of Rhodlite leaned on the pastel pink wall of the newest clothing store, waiting for the new Belle to finish getting changing. The whole place was filled with dresses and suits for young nobility, making it the biggest trend in the higher classes. The clothes were imported from Jade and Benodite. Jin had popped a lollipop in his mouth a few moments prior as he hummed a little song under his breath. Belle let out a little squeak in the changing room, making Jin smirk and hurry her out of the rather large stall. Her hand slowly peaked in the corner of the fabric of the curtain, pulling slowly on it to reveal herself in the same dress she was looking at in the magazine. Belle gave the 1st Prince the largest smile and spun and twirled; The dress was light green and white, adorn with lace and pearls. This particular dress was exported from Jade and it reached her knees with a large bow at the back. “Stunning Belle! But not quite finished yet” He wagged a finger and the [H/C] haired girl skipped over. Jin’s hand held a green bow that matched the dress with pearls, his fingers brushing her hair behind her ear before playing the bow in place.

“Thank you Jin! You’re the best!”

Yves was speechless at the news of Belle being a teenager. After all, being Belle is such a big responsibility! Can a teenager really handle it?

Yves takes on the new Belle under his wing, giving her a little [F/C] diary to write her notes in. She cannot forget anything of course.

Is afraid to let her out of his sight for longer than 2 hours.

He was so surprised how Belle treated him, especially that a lot of people were taught young about his bloodline. Belle however was still kind and caring despite everything she had heard in town. Yves asked her about this one day, the girl spoke that “Unless I’ve met the person, I would never claim they are evil just because of the blood that flows through their veins”

Yves has very strict with Belle, but he always made it up to her by baking her cookies or cake. Tea parties are also quite common, BUT ONLY TO TEACH BELLE TABLE MANNERS no other reason

Make overs with Yves are simply a must! Yves teaches Belle how to do her hair in complex hairstyles, the basics of colour meaning and styles of clothes worn on different occasions. Fashion is just as important as politics in the noble world after all!

Eventually Belle asked Yves if he would show her how to bake and Yves couldn’t hold the prideful smile that lit his face, he of course agreed! It was only because it was his duty as Prince however 👀

The palace was cold, silence and darkness submerging every corner it could greedily claim as its own. Despite the harsh snow outside, the kitchen was filled with warm light and cheery laughter of a Prince and a young girl. The fire crackled as the two sat on plush pillows, giggling as they engulfed in quiet chitchat. On the wooden floor lay plates of chewy cookies and sweet colourful macaroons. Belle held a plate with peach pie, struggling to hold it still as she fell into a fit of giggles once more. “That’s not even that funny!” Yves tried to pout but failed miserably as seeing Belle smiling so hard made his heart swell with pride. Sure Clavis’ prank with the cardboard cat was definitely not fun to experience, but maybe perhaps it was worth falling into Clavis’ potholes just to hear Belle’s laughter.

He was distant. Just like Chevie, he found the thing ridiculous and shook his head disapprovingly when told.

With the help of Yves and Sariel however, Belle got a chance to spend more and more time with Licht.

He tried to be rude, but Belle never took it to heart. Perhaps she knew from the start how kind he actually was. Either way, Belle being persistent was both a blessing yet curse.

Soon she became his companion. She was obviously worried about him which gave Licht motivation to be better. He never wanted her to worry about him.

Despite this Licht usually keeps his distance from her, making sure she is safe from afar.

Licht showed Belle how to ride a horse, knowing full well that Belle did something wrong to spend that extra minute with him.

Licht is always willing to sing to Belle after she had a rough day or a nightmare. He’ll stroke her hair and sing that same song his mother did, the Prince’s sweet voice lulling the girl into a sweet dream.

One day, Licht had invited Belle to visit him at the stables. She put on her best outfit before meeting him, but she was taken by surprise when Licht said this isn’t a riding lesson.

Not even the cold breeze of approaching autumn could make Licht’s heart less warm as he observed the girl near him. In her hands a basket filled with all types of flowers: coneflowers, dahlias and cosmos. Yellows, pinks and whites brought life to the brown weaved basket. Licht sat amongst the grass letting the cool air fill his lungs, his horse a couple of metres away grazing at the greenery. Belle plopped down next to him, smiling a smile that was brighter than the sun. “Close your eyes.” Licht smiled softly at the girl. She giggled when she closed her eyes, waiting patiently. Carefully picking the flowers with the longest stems, Licht’s fingers braiding the flowers over each other. He did this for a minute before placing the flower crown on the now impatient Belle who was starting to complain. Her eyes shot open and her hands began to delicately inspect the flowers which adorned her soft hair. Her eyes squinted with cheerfulness. Licht’s silent moment of his own happiness becoming brighter as the girl pounced on the once lonely wolf. The 6th Prince held her close, swearing that he will protect his sister. After all, they say that blood is thicker then water of the womb.

If you like my work, feel free to request!! Thank you for reading and Goodbye my Doves🕊️🌙

[yandere-romanticaa]

moonlight.

yandere! Gilbert von Obsidian x fem! reader.

Pure as the snow, bright like a star, in his eyes and heart that was the eternal imagine the dark prince had carved out for you. Every breath you took, every step you made, every single thing that came out of your mouth always had a meaning, a purpose, no matter how insignificant it may be in the grand scheme of things. Once you made your mind you became less and less human and more a force of nature, something that needed to be endured because nothing could stand in your way.

Not even Gilbert himself.

❝ Take me with you. ❞ you pleaded, voice just barely there, the only clue of anything being uttered in the dark of the night was the tiny puff of air due to the ice and cold.

❝ I won't love anyone like I love you, I promise. I want to be with you, to stay with you. Please, don't turn your back to me. ❞

Gilbert stood frozen in his place, face devoid of his usual smile but only for a split second - every single mistake he made, every life he took, he had no regrets because every single one had lead him to you. You were going to be his ultimate, his reason to live and how could he possibly deny you when you had made your intentions oh so clear?

Without a word, Gilbert outstretched his hand, gloved fingers intertwining with your own as he pulled you closer to him, his one red eye shinning with pride and power. He took you away into the moonlight, your footsteps the last visible trace that anyone would ever see of you in a long, long time.

🕊️TAGS: @latolover

I was in a soft mood, I just wanted to write something sweet for him. Please accept my humble offering! <3 Apologies if I made him too OOC though.

[what-the-dark-has-foretold]

Days like This

Gilbert von Obsidian x fem!reader

Navi.

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

Autumn Festival 2024

Wordcount: ~900

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Far too soon he retracted his hand.

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

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

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

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

Cold days should always be spend like this.

[princess-pray-a]

Silvi💎 M🥘dboard

╔. ■ .═. ■ .═════════════

✥ɓεαรƭ ωɦσ ωαร αℓωαყร ƭɦเ૨รƭყ,✥

✥gσт ѕαтιαтє∂ ву уσυя ρυяє тяυє ℓσνє✥

═════════. ■ .═. ■ .╝

taglist: @queengiuliettafirstlady

want more content ??

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[livinglovingtrainwreck]

Whoever made Rio. have the saddest goddamn arc in Silvio's route. I just wanna talk.

[clavissionary-position]

ɪ ᴋ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ɴ ᴘ ʀ ɪ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ CHEVALIER × READER 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐄𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 fluff 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 129 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦 / 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 slight suggestive content ( m d n i )

Chevalier's laugh. Short. Sweet, even if others might not say so.

You trace his Adam's apple with a finger joint. The dancing curtains take your gaze. His down-turned lashes steal it back. You close in, tilt your head and rest it against his jaw, but your fingertip stays. A circle, a circle. And a light press.

Chevalier hasn't turned to the next page in his book in a while. You can imagine him looking at you. You can imagine him not looking at you. But the silence stays sunny. Your bodies packed together make a lopsided heart-shape.

His jaw shifts under your face. The swell of skin over sculpted bone moves in a direction away from his lips. His Adam's apple dips.

You giggle. Chevalier turns the page.

--- 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 - credit to xxsycamore for inspiring the drabble-length format

[omkookie]

"Don't worry. It's just me."

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Smut, Yandere!Rio, NONCON, somnophilia, choking, unprotected sex. Fem!MC

Yandere Rio is so twisted that he no longer acts like Rio. He’s lost in the madness of his obsession, and his crazed mind can’t reason or differentiate right from wrong anymore...🩷

....

Rio thinks it's too much. Your endless studying, and undying devotion as Belle. You work far too much, way too hard, and you don't even treat yourself. That's why, as your caring butler he takes it upon himself to take care of you and relieve you of your stress. You wake up with his hand clasped over your mouth and his cock inside of you.

Your worried eyes frantically try to focus on him through the darkness of your room, and you thrash around, trying to scratch and kick your assaulter until you finally hear a familiar voice speak. "Don't worry. It's just me~" Rio says under his breath, And your eyes water with stinging hot tears. You feel dreadfully weak because you realize that it’s him. He, your most trusted person was raping you. That breaks your heart far more than knowing someone else was doing it.

Rio hears your muffled cries and quiet sobs, yet he pretends not to. His hand moves to your neck, and he gives your throat a hard enough squeeze as a warning for you to be quiet. “I’m going to take my hand off of your mouth, okay?” He speaks, and your erratic breathing increases as he warns you not to scream. “Don’t scream.” He says sternly, making sure to tighten his grip on your throat to get his words through your head.

He takes his hand off of your mouth, and you let out a whimper as you ask him why.

Why is he doing this?

“Because I love you so much! I want to make love to you and take care of you. You’ve been working so hard.” He says, as his other hand moves toward your hip to hold you.

What happened to your Rio? This one couldn’t be him. He just couldn’t.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to cry.” He tells you. “You know, I’m veeery happy to be with you.” He chuckles at the end, and you feel your stomach twist in disgust.

“I love you so much.” He repeats those words like they're a mantra.

He uses your body as he pleases, eventually tiring you out enough for you to stop resisting. You’re helpless, You can’t get him off of you, and he won’t be letting you go any time soon. His hips slam into yours harder now, making you jerk in surprise. You know he’s close, and he knows you’re tired. “You’re already sleepy?” he asks, and you nod, even if he can’t see it in the dark.

“Just give me a moment… I’m almost done.” He whispers, and you wait tiredly. Wait for him to finish filling you with his cum as if you were some toy. After what feels like forever, He finally does. A fresh stream of tears runs over the dried ones on your cheeks, and Rio snuggles against you, pressing you firmly against his body.

"I love you, Goodnight.” He kisses your shoulder, and you remain quiet.

You lie there, trapped in his arms and unable to get as much as a wink of sleep after what has happened. You feel dirty, sinful, disgusting. You want to take a shower and scrub your skin, hoping you can get him off of you, wash him away and wash off all of the guilt and shame that you feel.

You can’t sleep that night. You can’t get up and clean yourself, You can’t move an arm without his grip on you tightening. He’s not sleeping, and as his hand wraps around your neck to hold you in place, It slowly sinks in to you that you’ll never be able to sleep normally again.

[woah-woah]

Im considering writing a (VERY ANGSTY) fanfiction inspired by Princess Margaret, featuring Clavis Lelouch. Clavis, deeply infatuated with MC, proposes. However, Chevalier, as both the monarch and religious head-of-state, cannot condone Clavis's marriage to someone previously divorced. Chevalier cites an old statute. This law bars any Prince from marrying a divorcee, and Chevalier is unwilling to make exceptions. The only way that Clavis can marry the MC is to renounce his royal status, a sacrifice he is unwilling to make.

[articdelilah]

Hello! I really loved the Ikemen Prince x Teen!Reader concept. Could you please make a Gilbert, Keith and Silvio version of this? Thank you <3

✮ A Little Trouble ✮

Hi Anon!! Of course I can!! I’m been waiting for a Keith request so Thank you!! Sorry for the wait as I’ve had quite a busy few days and no ideas but I hope you enjoy 💞 I only wrote about kind!Keith🕊️

Foreign Princes

Platonic!Ikemen Princes x Teen!Reader

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(Keith is so sexy oml) At the Goodwill gala, Keith was very confused at the fact such young nobility was attending. He didn’t immediately have any suspicions however.

Nevertheless, he struck conversation with Belle. Asking her how she’s enjoying the gala and where she was from. Both parties enjoyed their conversation, talking about books they enjoy and such.

Belle had asked Keith if he’s interested in the study of plants to which he smiled and said yes. The girl expressed how she always wanted to travel to Jade and learn about plants in their top schools, but simply never had the chance too as she had to stay here to help her family.

Keith only shook his head and told the girl he would teach her everything he knew. And not to give up hope of course!!

Keith decided to stay a couple of days because of Belles interest in plants and herbs, wanting to teach her more about them. They made plans practically everyday, usually spent in the gardens, talking about all types of useful plants.

Keith made it sound all so simple and was a great teacher. He was patient and answered all questioned the girl had (even silly ones) (because my husband is perfect duh)

Another activity that would bring the two closer is doing each other’s hair. Keith braiding Belle’s hair and Belle putting small charms and flowers in his.

Keith found out Belle was well Belle from Silvio and he wasn’t surprised. However he told Silvio he wouldn’t use that information against Rhodolite, after all why would a King’s death be held above their heads? They were grieving (they are totally so sad) and he didn’t want to add to that.

Dill absolutely loves Belle! The bird is always trying to get the girls attention which embarrasses Keith extremely.

Tall trees towered over the greenery of the lush forest. For many days now Keith has been teaching Belle about herbs and flowers therefore she really wanted to repay him. Belle had taken Keith out for a walk in her favourite forest when the girl felt herself suddenly being drawn to a patch of small white flowers. Belle crouched down in front of them, brow raised at the flowers she’s so used to seeing. She never payed them much attention before but the Prince had shown her how important every plant was, even the ones you usually think nothing of. “What are these?” She asked, too busy inspecting the plant to look up at Keith who held a gentle smile on his lips. Her fingers stretched out to hold one of the tiny flowers. Twirling it for a little before she saw grey haired man again in the corner of her eye. He too had crouched beside her, observing the flower with his gentle gaze before giving her an answer. “Feverfews. They are good for-“ “Giving a few fevers?” The girl giggled at her pun and Keith couldn’t help but chuckle along with the horrible thing.

Silvio didn’t want be around snotty chil-Wow this girl knows a lot about trade and economy

Silvio knew Belle was being taught about such things at the castle but he couldn’t help be impressed at how actually knowledgable she was. She knew a lot about Benitoite and how important they were as well as not undermining the importance of Jade and Rhodolite, Silvio liked that.

That was the reason Silvio chose the engage in conversation with the young girl.

Silvio can have anything he wants, but Belle had taught him how true feelings could not be bought with money. She was patient and not pushy, though a bit bratty at times of course.

Silvio and Belle really like picking on each other. Poking fun of one another whatever chance they got, laughing cruelly at the other. Obviously in good fun!

Silvio already had his suspicions on the girl being Belle so when the news broke, he really wasn’t surprised.

Belle was in town with Silvio, sitting inside a small tea shop as the words “I always wanted to visit a Benitoitian beach” blurted out. She hadn’t even realised what she fully said when Silvio asked her to focus on her food.

This does however give him the rich prick an idea; he speaks to Sariel about it. Sariel thought it through, but the diplomacy of the country came first then his moral rights from wrongs so he agreed. He wanted to send Guards but Silvio simply paid them to not follow, and they were kind enough to take the money and shut up.

Belle was shocked at the news of being taken for a trip however she simply thought it was in Rhodolite. The girl didn’t know what was in store for her!

“You get back here girl!” Silvio snapped as the girl started to run away from him. He was lying on the light blue towel, trying to soak in the warm sun when the girl decided to bring a bucket of icy cold ocean water, pouring it on the Prince’s face before quickly retreating. Silvio’s eyes sprung open and her laughter filled the afternoon air. He wasted no time to stand quickly and sprinted right after her. The bright sun smiling down at the two; Belle however didn’t get very far, mainly because of how hot the sand was. She had tried to run to the cool salty water but it was ultimately useless as Silvio had already caught up with her. His large hand covered in rings of pure gold and gems worth millions came down to ruffle her soft hair, his other arm bringing her into a (gentle) chokehold. Silvio wasn’t exactly mad, his face held a pleased grin as the girl laughed and tried to wiggle out of his grasp. He couldn’t get it out of his head how he’ll have to travel back to Rhodolite to leave her.

Gilbert already knew Belle was Belle.

Let’s be honest! He has spies all over and the fact that Rhodolite had chosen such a young girl interested him deeply.

He struck conversation right away with his calm smile. It creeps Belle out at first, he IS Gilbert from Obsidian after all.

Gilbert decides to stay in Rhodolite and he started to appear everywhere the girl was. In the kitchens, the library and the gardens!!

Overtime, his smile was Belle’s favourite features about him.

As she grew closer with the Prince, Belle and Gilbert both kind of rubbed onto each other. Belle unconsciously started to speak a little like him.

Late night walks with Gilbert in the gardens aren’t uncommon but Sariel was definitely not happy about it. Sariel knew what Gilbert was capable of doing, Belle did too, so he warned her day and day out.

Belle however was determined to impress and such, so she didn’t listen to Sariel (sorry Sariel). Gilbert was very pleased at this, not like Sariel trying to stop him would ACTUALLY stop him

Belle was practicing her dancing alone in the dead of night. The girl unaware of the beast which lurked within the shadows of the palace. His cane hit the door, letting a thud echo through the empty ballroom

He laughed and offered his hand.

It was cold and dark in the now abandoned ballroom. There were no stars in the sky, the moon hidden behind clouds as if scared of the beast that had sneaked on Belle. Instead of mauling the rabbit, he offered her a dance. He couldn’t just stand as the girl tried to waltz alone. Gilbert’s hands rested on the girl’s, guiding her through each step of the dance. The empty room was large and illuminated by a singular white candle; its flame dancing along with them. It flickered and rocked, trying to match their steps. One glide to another, each motion carefully guided by the black tiger. He talked through each move and even with Gilbert, the dance was still hard. “This is so difficult!” The [H/C] girl sighed defeated. She knew this wasn’t the only dance she had to know, but she was tired and Belle could see the crack of dawn outside the stained panes of the big windows. She always muddled the steps, timing or direction. “The Waltz is the easiest dance of the many you’ll have to learn.” The Prince of Obsidian laughed at Belle’s increased sour expression. Her nose wrinkling simply at the thought of learning another dance. The two spent hours within the cold room, their shoes clinking and echoing bouncing off the walls. Let’s just say Gilbert wasn’t pleased when he had to leave Belle behind.

If you like my work, please feel free to request!! Anyways Goodbye Doves! Til next time🕊️🌙

Can you tell I really like Keith?

[yandere-romanticaa]

700+ notes on an Ikemen Prince piece? I should get back into the story pronto LOL

❝ I don't remember telling you to leave. ❞

As usual his voice cut sharp, almost like a sword which was swung high up in the air, threatening to end the life of the users enemy. Who knows how long had passed since you stepped foot into the castle library and had managed to lose yourself amongst the endless sea of books that were scattered across the table, many of which happened to be sappy love stories. Chevalier had oh so kindly requested that you recommend him anything you fancy regardless whether or not you'd think he'd like it. You had just barely registered his presence when he first entered the room and had thought that he left ages ago. You read and read, the sky turning warm and orange, soft hues bathing you in their gentle glory, beckoning you to rest, just close your eyes for a little bit.

Darkness has fallen and the scent of sweet roses invaded your senses like never before. Warmth from another radiated close by, their firm shoulder pressed tightly against your own as you cracked a single eye open to see just who was keeping you warm.

That was how you found yourself in this predicament.

Eyes like ice, skin like snow, Chevalier sure was a sight to behold even if the sheer brute strength he was displaying sourly contradicted his oddly ethereal beauty. A large, gloved hand held your wrist tightly, deep blue eyes peering into your own, challenging you to move.

❝ I am well aware that I am being a nuisance, Your Highness. Therefore, I think it would be best if I just left. ❞

He said nothing, his face showed no emotion whatsoever much to your displeasure. A part of you wondered if he could hear just how hard your heart was racing, fear creeping up on the back of your neck. Without a word he merely lifted your arm up, brought it to his lips and pressed a tiny peck on the pulse point, almost as if he was trying to claim something valuable that could be easily turned to ashes.

You stared at him in awe and confusion, mind filled to the brim with millions upon millions of questions.

His Highness had made sure to show just how much he did not like your company on a day to day basis - petty insults which could even be called mean on occasion would casually be thrown at you, he would constantly pester you on how to do your duties and would "fix" everything for you. From how to properly cut vegetables to how to walk amongst the other snobby aristocrats, Chevalier somehow always managed to make you feel lesser than.

Why, oh why, was he suddenly displaying this odd token of affection?

He smirked, his lips were still pressed against your soft skin. You could feel his teeth gently grazing against the soft flesh, the threat of him biting you suddenly creeped up on you. He... He wouldn't really do that?!

That was what you wanted to believe.

❝ You're so easy to read, as per usual. ❞ - said Chevalier, his tone laced with the slightest hint of wicked amusement. For a split second he almost looked like the devil's incarnate. He was a person to fear, a man you should not trust and he made sure to hammer in that point to you.

... what sort of sick pleasure did he find in teasing you?

By some miracle you had managed to free yourself from his grip but chances are it was Chevalier himself that set you free.

You really wouldn't have been able to escape otherwise.

In a flash you had turned your back away from him and made a beeline towards the large door. Adrenaline pumped in your veins, becking you to just make a run for it, don't look back, don't even bother with the twisted prince but your curiosity won out in the end.

Just before you could exist you decided to turn your head ever so slightly, just to make sure that he wasn't following you.

Whoever said that satisfaction brought the cat back as a liar, you thought fearfully to yourself.

Chevalier merely made himself more comfortable on the now half empty loveseat, legs crossed and one arm placed on his cheeks as he stared at you, his eyes cold and calculated.

Part of you wished he would react like a normal man and just run straight towards you but he was not a normal man.

Chevalier Michel could be easily considered winter incarnate and if you stayed in that room a moment longer who knew what would happen.

With strength you didn't know you possessed, you closed the large oak door shut, the loud echo disturbing the eerie silence of the palace. Letting out a tired sigh you looked out the window only to be met with a moonless sky and a million stars. A single tear escaped you, helplessness filling your entire being.

Just how long was the merciless beat going to torment you?

And just when were you going to see just how much he adored you, even if he didn't know how to express it?