#prince simon au

[prince-simon]

teeny tiny update on the state of ch17 of prince simon on this fine yr day

apparently s3 catapulted me right back into my joy for young royals and therefore i have written a whole 1k today which isn't a whole lot in the grand scheme of things (the impossibility of 30k chapters that thatgayprince thinks is normal) but!!! it's something!!! and i'm proud of myself and excited!!!

[toffeelemon]

It’s been 62 days since I last touched you. Since I’ve seen your smile, and had your blue eyes look at me in adoration. It’s been 62 days, and all I can think about is how I’m half a person without you.

There are days that I curse ever having met you. Felt your touch burn my skin, your fingers press promises into my skin. Maybe my life would be easier if I didn’t have you in it. But what kind of life would that be? My heart is yours, and your heart is mine.

Sometimes, I wonder if anyone has ever experienced this kind of love. I wonder, am I really so special that I get to have this and no one else? It can’t be true. I don’t feel like our love is brand new. There must have been lovers, soulmates, before us, experiencing what we get to have. And it’s giving me comfort to imagine there will be many more like us to come. Our kind of love is the kind of love that makes this rotten world worth living in.

Our love is the purpose of this life.

I’m awaiting your return to me with bated breath, my love. I’m awaiting your gentle touch, your skin against mine. I am awaiting you.

Vincent, to Eugen, from Chapter 5 of I Don’t Feel Like Our Love is Brand New (aka the Prince Simon AU) by @prince-simon

[cloudywilmon]

Fresh off his breakup with Nils and the release of the tape, Wille is determined to be the model prince, to play the role that's expected of him. Simon might throw a wrench in that plan.

Chapter 2 out now!

[omaremioo]

happy 2nd birthday to the story that got under my skin (literally) 🩵

thank you @prince-simon , hrh crown prince simon, omar & yr simon!! nothing but love to y'all <33

[sky-neverending]

@ all my Young Royals fans: I present the beginning of my Prince Simon AU bc i stan Prince Simon of Spain. this is a drabble i wrote that i’m turning into a full fic

Wille cleared his throat as the limousine pulled up to the castle, pushing his shoulders back and plastering a smile on his face.

He prepared himself for the arrival of the Queen of Spain and her children, heart racing as he thought about messing up royal affairs.

But then the door opened, and a boy came rolling out onto the gravel. He had curly hair, and big brown eyes that locked with Willes' own. A blush spread across both their faces.

A woman looked down at the boy. “Simon.” She hissed, but there was a smile on her face.

Simon.

[8-0mph]

Ice loser party

and drawovers.

[cammy-mcspammy]

More au images bc why not

[squidinu]

Wood and Fire [oc bullshit]

[loren91]

So I saw some talk about Mermaid Wilmon a little while ago and it reminded me of a thought I’ve had many times before, Wille and Ariel are so similar 😂

Prince/princess with a bad relationship to their parent who’s also the monarch. They’re unhappy with the current circumstances and dreaming about a different life. They fall in love with someone who is considered “wrong” for them. There’s a lot of pressure on them but they rebel against it to pursue love.

And now I’ve used this as an excuse to Disneyfy Wilmon. And also I’ve always liked drawing mermaids so I’m happy 😁✨

For @youngroyals-events yr week. “Fantasy AU”

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH10

Daddy waits for you to come back from your adventures with Mommy, and he's not happy... but neither is Mommy. Can you help reconcile the two?

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Explicit language. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Dom/sub undertones. Pet names. Aftercare talk with Daddy. Hurt/Comfort. Jealousy? Fluff. Is kissing considered smut? (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 4.6k 🔷️ READ ON AO3 🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6 7–8–9–10–11

A/N: RECAP: Reader (we call her Pumpkin) is in her 20s, has hair and female genitalia, suffers from depression and anxiety, and has agreed to become the little girl/submissive to a couple she's supposed to call Mommy and Daddy, who are in their early/late thirties. (I now have Pinterest boards - if you'd like some visuals/moodboards to your reading! This one made by a lovely reader, and this one that I made. Enjoy!)Daddy POV incoming, by the way!

Chapter 9 🔷️ Chapter 10 🔷️ Chapter 11

Noah paced the living room, stealing glances at his watch more often than he cared to admit. He felt antsy. Isabella wasn't back yet, but his biggest concern centered around you. He'd known she would take you on another Girls' Day Out, but if he'd known she would take you to that little cafe of hers, he would have whisked you away again. (Maybe calling her driver hadn't been the best idea, sometimes ignorance is bliss, but he was too worried to not ask around where you were.)

Isabella's collection of pets had always irked him, how she kept pulling in more and more girls for her nasty little schemes, even convincing some of his former subs to join the ranks, it felt a little bit like betrayal. But maybe he just didn't like it because he was never allowed inside. Female-only. What a waste. He understood the wish for safety and to be amongst themselves, but it all felt a little excessive. His worst fear now was that she had lured you in as well.

You were supposed to be their little girl, not another pawn to entertain the bored housewife from next door. He hoped she didn't make you do anything you didn't want. You'd only been with them for what, three days now? It must already be so overwhelming for you, partly because of him as well, but to see behind Isabella's friendly facade so quickly might be too much for you.

He'd been surprised how quickly she had adjusted to being nice and caring, a side of her he hadn't seen often, but she'd grown into her role of Mommy so fast, it had been quite impressive. Now she only had to stick to it, a trait she wasn't particularly known for. The woman could switch faces faster than he could blink sometimes. A strange talent, one you hopefully would never get to experience, at least not anytime soon.

If it were up to him, then he'd keep you in your room, hold you in his arms, spend hours, days, weeks in bed with you, and pamper the hell out of you. You wouldn't have to leave the house, unless you wanted to, and he wouldn't subject you to tiring shopping trips or beautification marathons or anything else unsettling to you. He just wanted to cuddle. And fuck. And cuddle some more. To make you feel better, to ease your worries. And because he couldn't get enough of you.

He was just rounding the kitchen island for the umpteenth time when he heard the click of the lock. You're back! Quickly crossing the kitchen, he entered the foyer the moment Isabella pulled you into the house after her, behind her the driver laden with large bags. She met Noah's gaze, fighting an eye-roll he was sure, while he forced himself to wait by the stairs, giving you space, waiting for you to come to him.

But you didn't come. You stood a little awkwardly next to Isabella, chewing on your lip, your cheeks flushed, your eyes flickering over to him, but then focusing on the floor beneath your feet. He frowned and waited, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched your Mommy instruct the driver to bring the bags upstairs, before she looked at you, caressed your blooming cheek and nodded. And only then would you walk towards him, your head bowed, looking at him from under your lashes.

He relaxed, smiling softly as you approached. “Hello, Daddy,” you whispered, timidly looking up at him.

His arms were around you in no time. “Hey pumpkin, I've missed you,” he cooed into your ear as he lifted you up, hugging you tightly. You squirmed in his hold, before he shifted you, one arm under your rear, your pelvis pressing into his hip, legs falling open, your arms slowly finding the courage to snake around his shoulders. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, finally warming up to him again. Whatever Isabella had put you through, it clearly influenced how easy it had been for you to be around him. He sighed, kissing the top of your head.

He held you close, feeling your soft breaths against his skin, when your Mommy chimed in once more. “Three days, Noah,” she told him, staring at him as she started ascending the stairs.

A noise of confirmation left his throat. His eyes searched your bare arms until he saw the band-aid on the right one. Too bad. But he'd already waited three days, he could wait three more until he could finally sink his cock into your tight little cunt, filling you up like he promised you he would, without having to worry about getting you pregnant.

“Did it hurt, pumpkin?” he asked quietly as he carried you into the kitchen, gently setting you down on the counter before he looked down at you with a smile.

You gave him a shrug, but couldn't meet his eyes. “It was okay,” you mumbled.

He carefully rubbed his palm over your arm, feeling the slight bump of the implant under your skin. “My brave girl,” he whispered, leaning down a little. “It'll be all worth it, trust me.” Your lips twitched, even more so when he wrapped his hands around your waist and teased his thumbs against your ribs, coaxing a little giggle out of you as he tickled you.

“Daddy!” you shriek-laughed, squirming against him.

He let go of you and grabbed your face, bending down to capture your parted lips for a quick but intense kiss, the short taste of you not enough to sate his own urges, but a nice preview of what was to come.

“So, what did you and Mommy do today, hm?” he asked nonchalantly, leaning back up, his hands caressing your warm face.

“After the doctor, we had lunch,” you started, pursing your lips as you tried to remember, your cheeks flooding with warmth as you did. “And then we... uh... we went to... Lady Noir.” He raised his eyebrows at that. “And Mommy bought some... things... and then we... we went to... a cafe...”

Keeping it vague, hm? Did she tell you to do so or was it your choice to stay away from the details? Were you too embarrassed to admit you went to a sex shop and a kinky pet cafe? Probably. He wanted to learn more, but he didn't want to push you either. In the end, it didn't matter, you were back now, back in his arms, and tomorrow was his turn again.

“Sounds fun,” he said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Was it fun?”

You looked up at him, face heating up even more under the gentle rubbing of his thumbs. A slow nod into his hands told him you at least enjoyed yourself a bit, but you did seem a little hesitant about it. Understandable. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for an innocent girl to be dragged into a sex shop and meeting the intimidating owner, and getting to see a bunch of masked and collared girls afterwards.

“Remember, pumpkin, if you ever feel uncomfortable, you have to tell us, okay? You're allowed to say no.” You're not a pet, he wanted to add, but kept it to himself.

You nodded, holding his gaze. “I know, Daddy,” you whispered, giving him a shy smile. He bent down again and pressed his forehead to yours, watching you. Then he felt your fingers brushing against his belt.

“Are you hungry, little one?” he whispered, smirking at you. When you averted your eyes, your cheeks scorching under his hands, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours, gently, soft, slow, until it was you who mirrored his motions and took the initiative.

Your hands moved around his waist, holding on, pulling him slightly closer. He felt how you spread your legs and nudged him between them, your feet hooking around the backs of his legs, while your tongue teased at the seam of his lips. He granted you access, one of his hands sliding around your head to hold you in place as the other moved down your side and rubbed along your thigh.

Noah was tongue-deep in your mouth when he paused, the hand on your leg pushed under the hem of your dress, noticing something that made him lean back and look down. You squirmed a little, your hands finding his wrist, but he still managed to pull your dress up to expose your bare cunt.

“Where are your panties, pumpkin?” he breathed against your trembling lips.

You swallowed, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He watched you and waited for a reply. “I... I... uh, must have forgotten them...” He raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, straightening up to tower over you. “I lost them?” you tried again, but he only narrowed his eyes. “I... uh... A girl took them!” you finally blurted out in a strained breath, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

“A girl took them?” he repeated quietly.

“In the cafe,” you croaked, still not meeting his gaze, highly embarrassed.

“Hmm,” he made, leaning his arms on either side of your hips, bending over you. “What did Mommy do? What did she tell the girls there to do to you?” he then whispered, brushing his nose against yours so you'd look at him. When you did, you blinked quickly, your eyes glistening.

You parted your lips, a little gasp escaping you, before you pressed your mouth shut again, looking away.

“Look at me, baby,” he said quietly. You did, instantly, sending a shiver down his spine. “You can tell me what she did. Or did she tell you to lie? I really don't like liars, pumpkin. I think we should be honest with each other...”

He saw and heard how you swallowed thickly, your lashes fluttering. “Please don't be mad at Mommy,” you then said barely audible. “I don't want you to fight.”

“Oh baby girl,” he sighed and leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he turned away from you, his other hand resting next to your thigh. “I won't be mad, but I need to know if she did something that you didn't like, that made you uncomfortable. She can't do that. That's not how this works!” Slowly he looked back at you. “We're supposed to make you feel better...”

Your hands found his side, small fingers digging into his hip, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “You do, you do make me feel better, you and Mommy. In your own ways...”

“What did she do, pumpkin?” he asked again, taking a step back, settling between your legs, one hand raised to rub the back of his finger along your cheek.

“She... she asked a girl to... to...” you started, but then shook your head, letting out a frustrated grunt as you looked away. “I can't say it... but... it was okay, Daddy, I didn't not like it, you know? It was different, but it was... good...”

He stared at you, clenching his jaw. “What else?” he asked curtly, his voice a little too sharp. He noticed the flinch but couldn't help his cold demeanor.

“She... she made me... uh... carry a... a... you know...”

“A what?”

“V-vib-vibra...”

“A vibrator?” he helped you out. You nodded, staring at your hands on his waist. “She made you wear a vibrator in public?”

You swallowed, biting your lip. He sighed, fighting the storm raging inside him. Isabella had always been impatient, but this was going too far. She had the right ideas, introducing you to these things, but it was all too fast. You went from being miserable and alone and sexually inexperienced to having a random girl eat your cunt in a public place, wearing a vibe, and whatever else she subjected you to.

He could tell you were loyal to her, and that was a good thing, but she couldn't manipulate you like that. You were taken advantage of, and it wasn't right. He paused, thinking back to how he'd taken advantage of your vulnerable state as well. He hadn't been very patient either, now that he thought about it. Whatever happened in the shower hadn't been planned like that, but it happened, just like the handjob after, the cuddles/dry humping at night. Had he manipulated you too?

But it had been him, your Daddy, who was allowed to do these things to you. While Mommy used foul tricks, letting others work for her, using toys, dragging you to sex shops and kink cafes, subjecting your innocent mind to all those kinds of depravities. What came next? Trying to spank your worries out of you, showing you the full delights of BDSM? He wouldn't let that happen, not anytime soon anyway. Some day, sure, but you had just started your journey into their world, leaving your old one behind. You needed more time.

He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, before he stepped in and threw his arms around you, hugging you close to his chest. You let out a surprised little squeak, but quickly mirrored the embrace.

“Daddy?” you whispered softly.

“Hm?” he hummed, not wanting to let go.

“It's okay, Daddy,” you said, your hands rubbing over his broad back. “I'm okay.”

He inhaled deeply, filling his nostrils with your sweet scent, calming down slowly. “Of course you are, pumpkin,” he rasped back. “My brave little girl.”

He held you for another moment, before he slowly leaned back, his hands on your arms, a gentle pressure as he looked down at you. You blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, but eyes attentive and warm.

“Listen, baby, there's nothing wrong with vibrators or having your pussy eaten – yeah, I figured that's what happened,” he added when you flinched and looked away. “I know Mommy's favorite places, I know how her beautifully dirty mind works. I was just worried she'd overwhelmed you with all that. It's going way too fast, don't you think?”

“Maybe a little,” you whispered, biting your lip. He moved a hand to your chin, making you look up at him.

“We'll take it slower from here on out, okay?” he said softly. “Cuddles on the couch, cuddles in bed, whatever happens happens, but no more visits to sex shops or letting random people pleasure you! That's mine and Mommy's job, and nobody else's.”

You watched him closely, a shy smile grazing your lips. His fingers curled around your head as he leaned closer, pulling you against him to claim your mouth. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed into him before he slipped his tongue between your lips, meeting yours, your hands grabbing at his waist as you kissed him back.

He quickly lost track of time as he sank into your sweet taste and scent and feel, his head spinning when he eventually leaned back, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Your arms snaked around his neck, holding him there, your fingers gingerly slipping into his hair. If he looked past the ups and downs, this was exactly what he had wanted. To find comfort in your embrace, to find peace in your innocence.

His arms were tight around your body as he lifted you up, settling you back on his hip. Like a child, his baby, his beautiful baby girl. He moved his hands to hold onto your rear, looking down at you as you met his gaze with big eyes, a shy little smile grazing your swollen lips, your cheeks flushed. He could get lost in you, just looking at you, feeling you, hearing your soft breaths. You were intoxicating.

“Daddy?” you broke the spell, one of your hands rubbing over his cheek, the scratch of his beard loud in his ears.

He blinked his eyes into focus. “Yes, pumpkin?”

“Can we... visit Mommy?” you then asked, biting your lip. “She's all alone upstairs...”

Tilting his head, he shifted you on his hip. “She's probably fine, changing into something more comfortable or taking a shower. Do you want to join her?”

“I...” You looked away, blushing a little more. “That's not...” You exhaled loudly through your nose before you looked back at him. “It's just... I feel a little bad... when I'm... with you, you know? I don't want her to feel left out...”

He frowned. “You think she feels left out? What makes you say that?”

“I mean... like... when I went shopping with her, and to have my... uh... well, when she made me... hm... presentable again? I mean, when I came home after that I went straight to you, completely ignoring her. That's... that's not fair, isn't it?”

Watching you as you stumbled over your words, he felt his jaw clenching. “That's why you hesitated today? To come to me?” he said quietly.

You nodded, averting your gaze. “Sorry, Daddy... I... I don't know how to... well... I want to please both of you... because you're both so good to me... but I don't know how...”

“Shh, it's alright,” he whispered, pulling you closer against him, one arm under your rear, the other holding the back of your head. “Do not stress about that, baby girl. We are all still trying to get the hang of this. We'll find our rhythm, we'll do things together, you and me, you and Mommy, and Mommy, you and me. It's new to us too, you know, to share a pretty girl like you?”

You snuggled into him, your arms tight around his neck, your soft breaths ghosting his skin. “She's not jealous?” you muttered barely audible.

He couldn't help the laugh ripping from his throat. “Oh pumpkin, your Mommy is a very passionate person, she is full of emotions, she may be a little jealous, but she will have to learn to deal with it. It was her idea after all, you know, to get a little girl, to share you with me. We're all in this together. You too have to learn to share us, it may not always be in equal parts, but we'll deal with it, it'll be okay. You will be okay when I spend special time with Mommy, right, baby?”

You leaned your head back, looking at him with a frown. “Special time?”

He smirked. “When I fuck her, pumpkin,” he said, savoring the flinch crashing through your small body. “You are the center of our attention, but before you came to us, we were people with needs too. If that makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell us. We can keep to ourselves, but you can also always join us if you like. Actually, I insist on including you one day, when you're ready.”

Watching the heat wandering into your face was a tad bit too amusing to him. You squirmed a little, licking your lips, unable to meet his eyes.

“Let's ask Mommy what she thinks about that, hm?” he mused quietly, brushing his lips against your temple as he shifted you in his arm, holding you tighter.

“Okay, Daddy,” you whispered, leaning against him as he carried you back into the foyer and up the stairs.

Before they became business partners, Noah and Isabella had been lovers, or rather special friends with benefits, using each other to get off and find peace in the other's body, a foolproof way to ease any kind of tension. Though they soon noticed that they weren't made for a conventional relationship, they still decided to move in together, find a nice house at the edge of town, make it their own.

They both owned it equally, both had their own rooms in opposite wings of the house. They shared the kitchen, living room and one bedroom, previously used for when they needed more than a quick fuck in either of their beds. Somehow that bedroom had turned into their own private 'red room' (despite being decorated in neutral grays and blues), with closets filled with various toys and other accessories he couldn't wait to introduce you to as well. But all in good time.

Your room sat on the other side of the hallway, opposite their shared bedroom, and they had agreed to sleep in your bed as often as you wanted them to. As he carried you along the hallway, he realized they hadn't even given you the grand tour yet, there were more rooms you hadn't seen before, a library, a play room with pool table and dart board, an indoor pool and a gym, the garden with another pool and a hot tub, some other rooms they could turn into anything you liked. So much to discover.

For now he brought you all the way to the left where Isabella's suite was: a bedroom, large ensuite bathroom, even larger walk-in closet, an office, a hobby room, even a little kitchenette. His part of the house looked similar, only he had an additional treadmill facing the garden instead of the lavish creative outlets she had. While his side had muted colors, masculine and minimalist, hers was bright with golden accents and marble, lots of whites and soft yellows and bright oranges, the occasional beige, terracotta floors instead of dark woods. Full of flowers and big plants. It looked airy and inviting, a hint of Latin flair, warm and welcoming.

He rapped his free hand against her door and listened, while you stiffened in his hold. Looking at you, he met your gaze and understood, slowly letting you down. You gave him a soft smile and grabbed his other hand, waiting patiently beside him, so small and cute in your pink sundress. He knocked again, no response.

“Isabella?” he called, waited. There was a shuffle behind the door, and when it opened, Isabella's gaze was dark and tight when she met his.

“What do you –” she started, anger in her voice, but then her eyes flicked to your form beside him, and her features softened instantly. “Cariño?”

“We wanted to visit you, Mommy,” you whispered a little timidly, squeezing Noah's hand.

He squeezed back, then released it, moving his to rest on your back as he gave you a little nudge.

“I was about to take a shower,” Isabella said softly, focusing on you. “Do you want to join me?”

He watched the heat rise in your face again, smiling softly. “I think our little girl wants to do something with the both of us, babe,” he mused carefully.

She looked at him, the tension growing around her eyes. He knew she was about to find excuses, shut him out again, probably still mad at him for not telling her about the unplanned hiking adventure/overnight stay in the woods. He didn't wait for her to find her words, instead he took a step past you and grabbed her waist, pulling her against him. Isabella squirmed, but Noah was stronger, and before she could do anything else, he leaned down to smack his lips to hers, silencing her with a hungry kiss.

He was rougher with her than he was with you, but that was what Isabella needed, someone to ground her, hold her tightly, squeeze the frustrations out of her. Usually he'd tie her up and spank her until she cried, then fucked the rest of her pent-up emotions right out of her, finally releasing all the stress accumulated behind her pretty eyes, but for now he opted for a simple kiss, and it seemed to be enough. Her arms snaked around his waist, a firm embrace, bone crushing if she'd be any stronger, but he could handle it.

“I'm sorry about this morning,” he breathed against her lips as they parted to draw breaths.

She stared at him, her eyelashes fluttering. “Time management and communication, Noah, so important,” she sighed, smirking at him.

“I know. Let's work on that, okay? Together?”

“Okay,” she replied, leaning up to press her full lips to his once more.

They both loosened their arms around each other at the same time, then slowly leaned away and looked towards you, and he felt a little sting to his heart when he saw your expression. A mixture of confusion, happiness and maybe also that jealousy he warned you about earlier.

He extended his arm to you and you quickly grabbed his hand, letting your mixed emotions behind as you were pulled between Noah and Isabella, who both hugged you tightly, their lips finding your warm cheeks. It was a strange embrace, a tangle of limbs, awkward angles, but filled with little laughs and squeaks and chuckles. It felt good.

“Come on then,” Isabella whispered, snuggling against you while Noah kissed the top of your head, “I think we all really need that shower now. Good thing I have such a large one...”

“And an even bigger heart,” he cooed, grinning at her. She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled back all the same.

Together, the three of you walked (stumbled) through her door into the suite, heading straight to the large bathroom. Noah held your right hand, Isabella your left, and you walked between them without fussing, following along, submitting so beautifully. Inside the vast tiled room, he stopped for a moment and looked down at you.

“And you're okay with sharing a shower with Mommy and Daddy, pumpkin?” he asked quietly. You tilted your head up and nodded, smiling at him. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” you murmured, your entire face flushed. “I... I wanna do more with... both of you...” you added even quieter, earning you a tight hug from Isabella and a warm smile from him.

“We too, mi amor, we'll start with kisses,” she said softly, pressing her lips to your cheek before grabbing Noah's neck to pull him down and kiss his jaw as well. “And hugs and cuddles and warm showers...” She inhaled deeply, her arms around your body and half of Noah's. “And eventually, hmm, maybe even tonight? We'll share a bed... and all the fun things you do in one, hm?”

She nuzzled your neck, tickling a giggle out of you, while he stood and watched his girls, his hands on both your and Isabella's back, a fuzzy warmth settling low in his stomach.

It had been a while since he'd felt this content. Never in his busy life would he have thought he'd be the domestic type, never thought about having his own kids, or building a family. It hadn't been on the agenda, didn't fit him. But now, with you, he was able to pick the best aspects of a traditional family life and make it his own, your own, their own.

You were old enough to be your own person, but in this unconventional relationship, he could still treat you like the kid he might have never wanted but now knew he needed. He needed you, his little girl, to ground him, to ease the tension, to settle down. Feel your small hands on him, your soft lips against his (around his cock), your little body under his, on top of his, beside his. You close to him, whenever he could.

That was your role, and he knew you felt the same, needed the contact as well, the reassurance, the warmth, the special attention, and he'd do anything to give it to you, however you needed it. All the time. Alone or with Isabella, who probably thought the exact same, his horny little mistress. What a lucky man he was, a little girl in one arm, a gorgeous woman in the other.

Oh he couldn't fucking wait to take this whole thing further.

Chapter 9 🔷️ Chapter 10 🔷️ Chapter 11

End notes: Daddy had his solo chapters (and took you hiking), Mommy had her solo chapters (and deeply disturbed you with her kinky side), and now all of them are in the same room, finally!!! Cue bi-panic! Or something like that... in the next chapter! :3

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: Showertime with Mommy and Daddy and you!

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

[sevs-corner]

Smth smth tf 141 as dragon princes and they’re looking for a harem to satiate their curse but instead fall in love with human you, found during one of their conquest as they finally take over the human kingdom and you as their last and sole heir

Alas, they’re corrupt, hearts blackened ever so slowly from a curse left uncured since birth. One that has been thru timelines and only ever once undone by an unnamed and banished forefather-- forgotten and erased by time for shame for what they did.

But once they chanced on the opportunity to hold you in their arms, they felt like they could breath easier— heart lighter of the chains that bind it

Though not all is well on your end, from the distasteful looks of the other people in their harem to the mistreatment of the servants onto you, you’re left spiting the very men who caused your people’s downfall

Your compassion holds you still of ill will, but the burn of watching your home crumble lingers and overthrows those empathetic emotions

So you’re avoidant, doing everything possible to get enough funds and escape the castle

Yet the dragons are insistent, loving the chase even, as they revel in the feeling of catching you and entrapping you in their chambers once more

Its a nightmarish cycle until the darkness no longer lingers above the land of the princes

Mind and hearts now clear of any curse— and they are free.

Except you aren't.

You’re still trapped.

But now that they’re more willing- you use this to your advantage, lure them into a false sense of security, doing anything of their whims just to get them to trust you

After awhile, you do get that opportunity, but are now held back by the memories you shared with them, goal now blurry as do the lines from that define them as good or bad in your tale.

They are bad! You convince yourself.

But that wasn’t truly them— they were cursed. The other voice in your speaks.

Pushed onto a life they had no control over, just. Like. You. It continues to debate.

And this one moment of hesitation ruins everything.

Plans foiled and back to step 1 you went.

A/N: blurbies from all the manhwa inspired stuff i read before kjdsfkjdlkf (masterlist of my other stuff 'cause i swear i have proper format brainrot on other stuff there)

[prince-simon]

Let’s spread some love for WIP’s!!

Add a line of your current WIP and tag someone else to do the same 🖋️

@hergrandplan and @toffeelemon both tagged me so thank you for that!!!

i'm gonna share a snippet from prince simon ch 17 (yes. i'm still working on it. i'm not abandoning it no matter how long it'll take me!)

i'm excited to dive back into that universe!

“Mmh,” Wilhelm gave a small nod, smushing his lips against Simon’s sternum. “We should get kittens too.” “And object them to Gatorade?” Simon snorted. His eyebrows were raised dubiously when Wilhelm looked up at him with an eyeroll.  Wilhelm shook his head. “Leave your feud with Gato out of this,” he admonished good-naturedly, pinching and then tickling Simon’s sides until he was squirming away from him. Wilhelm laughed along with Simon, not letting up, as he tried to hoist Simon over his shoulder in an attempt to throw him in the pool. Simon didn’t give up his fight though and they play-wrestled until Wilhelm lost his footing and they both tumbled over the edge. For a moment, Wilhelm prayed that their vacation didn’t end in split skulls before he was submerged in water. He came back up coughing and spluttering, Simon not faring much better. The cousins were cackling in the background, unperturbed by their struggle.

read on ao3 here

idk who to tag but if you wanna do this pls share!!!

[toffeelemon]

I don’t feel like our love is brand new. There must have been lovers, soulmates, before us, experiencing what we get to have. And it’s giving me comfort to imagine there will be many more like us to come. Our kind of love is the kind of love that makes this rotten world worth living in.

prince simon in madrid

a pilgrimage along the world that @prince-simon created 🥹

Simon’s neighbourhood, Chueca

“It’s actually the Queer Neighbourhood of Madrid, and coincidentally also where I live.” He lowered his voice as if to tell a secret, “It’s actually not a coincidence at all.” (chapter 2)

Casa de Campo (view from the Royal Palace lol oop)

Wilhelm didn’t even recognise himself. He didn’t think he’d ever looked that happy. And Simon… his eyes were closed and his curls were a mess and Wilhelm had never seen anyone more beautiful. (chapter 3)

El Retiro

Simon looked at Wilhelm much too adoringly for a statement this goofy. “The ducks are gay!” He yelled at Santiago and Paula, “Just so you know!” (chapter 9)

Palacio de Cristal

“Here’s a funny thought - bear with me, okay? But just imagine. Flowers. Everywhere, like on the ceiling, up the walls. Fairy lights scattered all through it. It would be so gorgeous as a- uh, like. For a wedding…” Realising where his train of thought had gotten him, Wilhelm fell quiet, looking at Simon with wide eyes. (chapter 9)

El Palacio Real de Madrid (more specifically the Throne Room lmfao)

Simon traced his fingers over the bruises on Wilhelm’s neck and in the opening of his dress shirt, humming contentedly. Wilhelm followed the movement in the mirror, and marvelled at how good they looked together, how well they fit together and how much Simon belonged right here – on the throne, with Wilhelm. He deserved the world and so much more. (chapter 12)

Museo Nacional del Prado

Around them, the other visitors kept moving, admiring the art on the walls, and for the moment Wilhelm felt infinite, imagining himself a painting, looked at and analysed hundreds of years from now. El Abrazo de los Príncipes.

Lo Spasimo, Raphael, 1515-1517

“Are we allowed to kiss in front of Jesus on his way to crucifixion or is that tasteless? Because I really want to kiss you right now, Simon.”

Las Meninas, Diego Velázquez, 1656

“He made me look at Velázquez in the painting and how he was looking back at the viewer, at me. I still remember the exact tone of his voice, how he was so certain when he told me that I had every right to be where I am. That I am the subject of this painting, the king being painted. All those tyrants, King Felipe and Emmanuel and all those that came in between, they are trapped in that mirror forever while I am here, alive, we’re here. Velázquez is looking at two queer princes, ready to paint us.” (chapter 13)

Casa Alberto

“So, tell me more about this special part of Madrileñan history.” He was slightly teasing but mostly actually curious. 

Simon seemed all too eager to answer that question, and it hit Wilhelm how genuine Simon’s care for his city — his country — and its people was. It made him a little sad to know that a lot of people didn’t get to see that because they only focused on Simon being too gay or too Latino, or even just too carefree and enjoying life because he was young, to be their future king.

bonus content:

Iglesia de San Antonio de los Alemanes (where Simon goes to church)

“I think I need to go somewhere.”

“Oh?” Wilhelm said softly, “Right now?”

Simon hesitated before he nodded. “I need to- get some clarity? Or - I hope that I’ll get it there?” He whispered, voice shaky.

“Do you want to tell me where you’re going?”

“To- uh, to pray? I mean- to church? I don’t know if I’ll pray…” Simon’s voice was shaky, uncertainty shining in his eyes when he dared to look up at Wilhelm. (chapter 11)

[cloudywilmon]

Tell me what you need (You look so free)

Chapter 2 of my Prince Simon au coming tomorrow!

Sneak Peek:

Wille pulled out his phone, clearing his text notifications and trying to push down the guilt at the unread messages. He opened Instagram, planning to aimlessly scroll, but he quickly found himself on Simon’s profile. Wille compared it to his own official Instagram account, barely used and carefully curated, Simon’s seemed so much more authentic - he wondered how much agency Simon had over it. It was strange looking at it after what had happened, seeing pictures of Simon’s curls now knowing what they felt like under his fingers, remembering the feeling of their lips pressed together. Above all, he remembered the way Simon had laughed, and how genuine he’d been. It was the first time Wille had felt truly understood in a long time, a connection between them he couldn’t quite place. He felt his eyes tear up at the thought that maybe Simon had felt similarly, his words from that night echoing in Wille’s mind, Is it so hard to believe I might enjoy your company?

What went through Simon’s mind when he woke up that morning to find himself alone in his bed? Did he feel relieved that there was no awkward morning after, or was he disappointed? Wille knew he couldn’t afford to think that way, that he couldn’t let himself get tangled up in thoughts of Simon lest he never stopped. Still, he couldn’t help the guilt he felt at not even saying goodbye, even if it would’ve been too hard. He imagined if he’d been in Simon’s position, the way he would have spiralled afterwards, wondering what he’d done wrong. 

Simon had been nothing but kind to him, Wille could have at least given him the common decency of an explanation. It felt too late to now, but with a steely breath he told himself he could at least try, Simon deserved that much. Before he could second guess himself he hit the follow button, half surprised his PR team hadn’t followed Simon already. It wasn’t ideal to message him on Instagram, Wille was sure palace staff had access to Simon’s account the same way they did to Wille’s, but it was the only option he could think of - at least for the moment. 

Part of him wanted to continually refresh his account until he got a response, but he knew there was no guarantee Simon would see it right away anyways. He forced himself to put down his phone, heart racing at what Simon might do, what he might think when he saw Wille had followed him. He turned to his back, staring up at the ceiling and focusing on his breathing, trying to get his mind to a somewhat restful state. It felt fruitless, thoughts racing through his head, one triggering another like dominos that didn’t stop falling. His eyes felt heavy, and it wasn’t until the weight of keeping them open was too much to bear that they drooped shut and he finally fell asleep.

Wille woke up to darkness, and he realised it must’ve still been early, no sign of daylight through the curtains. He felt groggy, but he rolled over to grab his phone and check the time. It was only just past four in the morning, and he was about to put down his phone to try and get more sleep when a notification caught his eye. Suddenly, he was feeling wide awake. There, in clear bold text, PrincipeDeAsturias started following you.

[merakilii]

Utterly Yours

Knight Simon Riley // Masterlist

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

words: 2.2k

tags: AFAB reader who is also a princess. Knight Simon Riley. emotional constipation. he thinks you deserve better than him. A strong man kneeling before you. and would kill for you.

The feast was a quiet affair, the grand dining hall filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the occasional murmur of conversation. The long table, usually laden with the laughter and chatter of visiting nobles and dignitaries, felt hollow tonight. The suitors had been dismissed, their pride bruised and their hopes dashed. And so, it was just the three of you: your father at the head of the table, you to his right, and Simon across from you, his presence a silent, brooding force.

The meal was lavish, as always, with roasted pheasant, glazed vegetables, and warm bread served with honeyed butter, but you barely tasted it. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, your mind replaying the image of Simon in the ring. He had been breathtaking. And yet, as you sat there, picking at your food, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were drowning in your own thoughts, in the weight of everything you couldn’t say.

Simon was quiet, as he always was, his eyes fixed on his plate, his expression unreadable. Your father tried to fill the silence with light conversation, his voice warm and steady, but even he seemed to sense the tension between you and Simon. The air was thick with it, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You set your fork down with a soft clink, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I need some air,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Your father nodded, a hum escaping him as he watched you with knitted brows.

You stood, your chair scraping against the stone floor, and made your way to the gardens. The night air was cool against your skin, the moon casting a pale silver light over the castle grounds. The gardens were quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant chirping of crickets. You walked aimlessly, your thoughts a tangled mess, your heart heavy.

And then you bumped into him.

His figure tall and imposing, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. You hadn’t heard him approach, but then again, you never did.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, your arms crossing over your chest as if to shield yourself from his gaze. “Nothing,” you said, your voice tight.

Simon stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t lie to me,” he countered. “I can see it in your eyes. Something’s bothering you.”

You looked away, your jaw tightening. “You act like you know everything,” you said, your voice rising slightly. “Like you know what’s best for me. But I have a say in that too, Simon. Or do you think I need you to make all my decisions for me?”

Simon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “That’s not what I think.”

“Then what do you think?” you shot back, your frustration boiling over. “Because all I see is a man who hides behind a mask, who acts like he knows everything about me but won’t tell me a damn thing about himself. Don't think I did not realise these trials are your doing." The silence stretched between you, thick as fog, as your words hung in the air like a blade waiting to fall. Simon did not flinch, did not retreat. He only stared, his eyes dark, fathomless.

"Who are you, Simon? Who hides behind that mask like a coward?”

Then, he reached up and pulled down his scarf.

It laid slack around his neck, his face fully revealed, the scars no longer half-hidden. They carved across his cheek and jaw like the echoes of old wounds, the remnants of battles fought in the name of a crown that was never his to wear, of wars waged not for glory but because he had no choice. The world had tried to ruin him, to break him into something less than a man. But Simon did not break. He did not yield. He had stitched himself back together with iron and duty, had taken every shattered piece and reforged it into something lethal, written in ruin.

And still, he said nothing.

But you felt it. The shift in the air, ancient and aching pressing against you, curling into the spaces between your ribs. He was telling you, in the only way he knew how.

That he was no prince, no noble suitor with pretty words and hollow vows. That he was not meant for silk-lined halls and courtly graces, for whispered sonnets in moonlit gardens.

No, Simon was something else entirely.

A blade, sharpened and tempered in war. A creature born of steel and blood, of palls that clung to his heels like a curse. He was not gentle, would never be gentle. And if the world sought to take you from him, if fate itself dared to pull you from his grasp, he would tear it apart with his bare hands.

He would kill for you. Not out of duty. Not for honour. But because he was yours, as much as the night was to the moon, as much as the sea was to the tide.

His fingers twitched at his side as if resisting the urge to reach for you. His breathing was slow, measured, but his hands curled into fists, knuckles pale with restraint. You could see it now, the truth of him, the thing that lurked beneath the armour and duty and silence.

A wraith. A shadow. Your shadow.

“I am not a good man,” Simon said finally, his voice low, rasping, a thing raw and frayed at the edges.

You did not speak. You let him continue.

“I have never been noble. Never been righteous. I do not fight for honour, or glory, or anything so clean.” He exhaled sharply, as if the significance of his own words was something he despised. “You ask who I am?” His eyes found yours, dark and burning, and the answer was there, in the wreckage of him. “I am selfish. greedy. I would take you for myself if the world would let me. If you would let me.”

The confession burned through the air between you, a wildfire set to consume.

His hands clenched at his sides, his body taut with restraint, with the awful, unbearable need to close the distance between you. His fingers twitched. His breath was uneven. “I would tear the flesh from anyone who dared harm you. I would kill in cold blood if it meant keeping you safe. If it meant keeping you mine.”

Mine.

He turned his head slightly, just enough that the moonlight traced the sharp lines of his face. He was waiting, as if expecting disgust, as if bracing for rejection.

You did not give him either.

You stepped forward and reached for him. Your fingers skimmed over the rough ridge of a scar, tracing the jagged path it carved down his jaw. His breath hitched, sharp and barely there, that small touch was more than he had ever allowed himself to want.

You wondered how long he had waited. How long he had stood in the dark corners of your world, silent and unseen, wanting, but never daring to take.

And then he moved.

Not to pull away. Not to flinch from your touch. But to drop to one knee.

His head bowed, his broad shoulders folding inward, his entire body sinking down before you as though gravity itself had given way. It was not submission, not in the way the knights of the court would kneel before their king.

This was devotion.

A knight kneeling at the altar, swearing himself not to god, nor country, nor crown, but to you.

Your breath was shallow, unsteady, as you reached for the blade at your waist. The weight of it was familiar, solid in your grip, a symbol of the power that rested in your hands alone. You lifted it, the metal catching the pale glow of the moon, and pressed the flat of the blade to his bowed head.

Simon did not move.

He would have stayed like this forever, knelt in the quiet sanctuary of the garden, in the cathedral of ivy and crumbling stone, if you had asked him to. If it meant being yours.

And as the night stretched on, as the stars burned above you, you realized with startling, terrifying certainty—

He already was.

You held your blade to his head, the cold steel pressing against his hair, and Simon remained kneeling, utterly still, as though he had been carved from the stone beneath him. He had given himself over to you completely, the same way knights swore fealty before kings, the same way the devout knelt in prayer before silent gods.

Except you were no king.

And Simon had never been a knight.

Your hand trembled slightly on the hilt, but not from fear. No, this was something else. Something darker. Something that stirred in the deepest parts of you.

This was no mere oath.

He had never been noble, had never sought the path of righteous men. But for you?

For you, he would be a sword.

A ghost.

A terror.

His eyes lifted slowly, dark as a storm, as fathomless as the abyss that had carved him into the man before you. He did not ask for permission. Did not beg for acceptance. Simon was not that kind of man. But he let you look at him, let you see him, all of him, without the mask, without the silence, without the barriers he had built over a lifetime of bloodshed and war.

The blade in your hand felt heavier than it should have.

You could end it here. You could cut him down, sever whatever bound him to you before it consumed you both. A part of you knew that would be the wiser choice. That taking him as yours, keeping him at your side, would not lead to salvation.

But you did not want salvation.

You lowered the blade from his head, drawing the sharp edge down until the tip rested just beneath his chin. You lifted it slightly, forcing him to tilt his head back, forcing him to meet your gaze fully.

“You would have killed him.” Your voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Prince Florian...Cedric...any other suitor.”

Simon didn’t flinch, didn’t deny it.

“I would have,” he said, his voice steady. “If you had asked it of me.”

The certainty in his words sent something sharp and electric down your spine.

If you had asked it of him.

Not because they had deserved it. Not because it would have served some greater purpose. But simply because it was you who would have spoken the words.

“And if I asked you to leave?” you murmured, tilting the blade just slightly, watching the way his breath hitched as the steel traced the line of his throat.

Simon’s lips parted slightly, his jaw tightening beneath the press of metal. For the first time, there was hesitation in his eyes. Not because he feared you, never that. But because leaving? That, above all else, was the one thing he could not do.

“If that is what you wish.” The words came hoarse, almost forced from him. A lie, because Simon did not know how to live without you. He never had.

You should have let him go.

But you didn’t.

You stepped closer instead, until the warmth of his body was just a breath away, until you could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, could hear the quiet restraint in every breath he took. Your grip on the blade tightened.

“I do not want a noble man at my side.” The words were slower this time. You wanted him to feel them, to understand them fully. “I do not want a man bound by duty, by chivalry or law.”

The wind stirred through the garden, rustling the plants curling over the stone walls, whispering secrets that only the night could hear.

“I want you.”

The admission tasted like sin, dark and aching on your tongue, and the moment it left your lips, you saw the change in him.

The sharp inhale, the way his hands clenched against his thighs, the way his eyes darkened with something that went beyond want, beyond devotion.

You lifted the blade from his throat.

And then, with slow, deliberate finality, you turned the hilt and offered it to him.

His fingers brushed yours as he took it. And then, in one swift movement, he reversed the grip and pressed the blade flat to his own heart.

A vow.

His voice, when it came, was lower than a whisper, rough as the edge of a well-worn dagger.

“I am yours.”

It settled deep in your marrow, you knew that he would never leave. That no force in this world or the next could sever what bound him to you.

And he would follow you into the dark without hesitation.

[sky-neverending]

ok so here’s my take on Simon as royalty

we all know that our boy is probably against being anything related to the royal family. BUT. BUT BUT BUT!!!

If Simon had been born as royalty? He would fucking SLAY. like my god he would be the best prince anyone could ever ask for. he would fight for his rights and be himself. he would change the country for the better.

which is why i absolutely LOVE Prince Simon AUs. bc in that specific circumstance, Simon would be a great prince. In canon? I personally don’t think he would be for it. maybe he would? but i doubt it.

anyway that’s my Young Royals ramble for the day. or not. i might have more. who knows???