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#ikemen fanfic
aquagirl1978 · 1 day
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To Love a Sinner - William Rex x Reader (Ikemen Villains)
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A/N: Happy Birthday, William! My first entry for An Invitation to Crown, hosted by @judejazza
Pairing: William Rex x Reader
Prompt: linked fingers
Word Count: 1006
Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; established relationship; reader is afab; piv; fingering; reader is referred to as "good girl"
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A sin is nothing more than a sin.
It was very easy to love William. Yes, he was a sinner, and you accepted that, but he was so much more than just that. He was kind and compassionate to a fault, and he helped you find your true voice. With each sin he committed, you found yourself falling deeper in love with him, falling deeper into the darkness that was his world.
“What do you want for your birthday, Will?” you asked as you gazed up at a pair of adoring eyes. 
“I want what I want every day.” His eyes narrowed, and his smile widened, sending heat rushing through your body. Your cheeks already warm, you looked away; one look at his beautiful face, and you’d be lured into his wicked ways.
“Oh, please don't be shy, my dear sweet robin.” He pressed his palm gently against your cheek; your face tilted towards him as you leaned into his touch, your lips quivering as they searched for his. 
He dipped his face to yours, soft lips barely brushed against yours in what dared to be a kiss, his whispered words warm on your skin.
“Tell me what you want.”
Words escaped you as you let out a shuddering sigh. The look of pure, unbridled lust in Will’s eyes as he gazed down upon you was almost too much to bear.
“What do you desire?” he asked again. His body was gracefully poised over yours, close enough to feel his heat radiating through his clothes. His hand curled around yours, threading his fingers through yours.
“Kiss me,” you requested breathlessly, knowing this would only be the beginning of a night of sinful pleasure.
The tender expression that washed over his face told you precisely how happy he was to hear you express your wishes. He pressed his smile against yours, happily granting your desire. As your eyes drifted closed, the sweet scent of roses filled your lungs and Will deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.
Your hands moved on their own accord; your fingers, finding the buttons on his shirt, began to clumsily unbutton them, one by one. Will let out a sound, deep and beautiful, once you undid enough buttons to slide his shirt down his shoulder.
Your hand, now on his bare skin, continued to push his shirt away, exposing his back. Breathing him in, savoring the sweet taste of strawberries still lingering on his tongue, you pressed your palm against his flesh, pulling him closer to you. 
Crimson nails crawled up your thigh, pushing the silky material of your skirt out of his way, his fingers pressing into your sensitive skin. A pleased grin graced his handsome face as his hand traveled up your leg until he found your most sensitive spot. You dug your nails into his back, your hands sliding across the wide expanse of fair skin, not caring if you left any marks, gasping when he slid a finger inside you.
He broke the kiss, gently pulling away from you. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his blood-red eyes mesmerizing as his thumb stroked your clit, this single touch making you forget everything but him. 
“I want you, Will.” Your voice was soft as you whispered words only for his ears. “I want all of you.”
“Then that is what you shall have.” He shifted his body, his face still close to yours, your legs spreading for him. He slid two fingers inside, slowly stretching you, enjoying the lewd sounds he elicited from your lips. 
You let out a small whimper when he removed his hand, your body immediately craving his. He quickly removed his belt and undid his pants, freeing his erection.
“Don’t take your eyes off of me,” he said as he guided his tip inside you. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your moans as he pushed inside, slowly stretching your walls. 
“Good girl,” he whispered, his grin wicked as he held your hand in his, bracing himself as he began to rock his body against yours. A maelstrom of emotions brewed in your belly as you allowed yourself to freely indulge in this sinful pleasure. Will filled you with a pleasure so great it could only be good, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. A reminder that he liked to see your adorable face, and you liked to see his. Sliding his hand down your thigh, he guided your leg around his waist, allowing him to penetrate you deeper, your lustful moans melodious to his ear.
“Close your eyes and come for me,” he whispered into your ear, his hand sliding between your legs. Once he found your sensitive spot, his long fingers teased you, coaxing your soft, sweet sounds until you came undone in his hands. “Good girl, just like that,” he praised; you squeezed his hand as your trembling body succumbed to the pleasure he provided, his body soon joining yours in a state of absolute bliss.
You held his head close to your chest, your heart still beating wildly while night's embrace calmed you both. 
“Did you have a good birthday?” you asked quietly, your fingers combing his messy hair. He looked up at you, his crimson gaze tender as he looked at you with adoration. 
“Yes.” He flicked his eyes up to meet yours, his thumb traced light circles on the inside of your wrist, your hands still clasped together. “Maybe my best yet.”
One look at the radiant smile he flashed you, and you knew he had carved this moment on his heart.
“I love you, Will.” You squeezed his hand, not ready to let go. Not today, not any day. 
He pulled your joined hands to his lips and brushed a chaste kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, too,” he whispered back.
One day, the sinner would have to pay for his sins. But that day wasn’t today. And until that day came, you were going to love your sinner until his very last breath.
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Tagging: @starlitmanor-network @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee
@kookie-my-little-sunshine @pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381
@judejazza @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia
@ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings
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violettduchess · 4 months
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A/N: This year, as I deal with a far more limited amount of free time, I want to focus on writing things that really spark something for me. These headcanons, which I started almost 6 months ago, recently came roaring back into my imagination and I decided to go for it.
This is imagining how these suitors would react to their small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night.
Leon, Sariel, Jin, Keith and Gilbert
WC: 2.2 k
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The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.
The hall is empty.
Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.
One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.
Leon
He is awake the moment the door opens. A light sleeper, he never fails to hear when his daughter enters your bedroom, no matter how quietly she tries to. Even now, he pushes himself up, running a hand through his cacophony of dark hair, watching his offspring step as quietly as possible as she makes her way towards the bed. She’s so concentrated on not making noise that she doesn’t notice he’s already up and watching her until she arrives at the foot of the bed.
“Papa!” Her gasp is half surprise, half disappointment when she realizes he has, as always, heard her. Leon laughs softly, the sound still rough with sleep as he motions for her to come over to his side of the bed. 
“I was trying to be extra, extra quiet.” He offers her his hand and she takes it, climbing into the bed and then into the circle of his arms where he cuddles her close. “You were, peanut. You were very quiet but your father has very, very good ears. Especially at night.” 
Perhaps someday she’ll learn why. How good hearing and light sleeping could mean the difference between life and death in the slave pens. But not tonight. Tonight she snuggles into his embrace, clutching her brown bear with his black and red cape to her chest. 
“Shall I bring you back to your bed?” He brushes several dark locks of hair that have escaped her braid away from her plump cheek, his golden eyes warm with affection. His daughter stifles a yawn. “Can I stay here tonight, with you and Mama?” 
How can he say no? “Of course.” He shifts her, tucking her in close against his side where she curls up like a kitten, warm and content. Leon sighs, his heart fuller than he ever imagined it could be, before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.
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Sariel
He looks up from the paperwork on his lap when the bedroom door slowly opens. One glance at the clock on his nightstand and he knows exactly who dares enter his room, unannounced, in the middle of the night.
His son, hair dark as onyx, eyes as bright as violets, peeks around the door to see his father sitting up in bed, reading by the soft light of an oil lamp. 
“I see you, little one.” The child gives up stealth and hurries into his parents’ room, climbing up the foot of the bed and crawling his way across the velvety covers up to Sariel, careful not to jostle you while you are sleeping. He settles in next to his father, peering at the sheaf of papers still in his hands. “Why are you still up, Papa? It’s so late.”
Sariel glances down at his son, his lips curved in a soft shadow of a smile. “You know what? You are correct. It is very late.” He carefully removes his glasses, placing them in a safe spot on his nightstand and then sets the missives and letters and parchments beside them. He extends his arms and his son happily accepts the silent invitation, burrowing into his father’s embrace, clutching his soft, stuffed snake with the onyx eyes close to his little chest. “We’ll go to sleep together, ok Papa?”
Sariel reaches out, extinguishing the warm light and then shifts, dipping his head to press a kiss to his son’s midnight hair. “A sound plan, son.” He closes his eyes, contentment flowing through him like the soft waves of the ocean. “A very sound plan.”
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Jin
He freezes, lifting his head from your neck, his large hand going still on the sensitive skin of your hip. As involved as he may be with you, he has excellent hearing and the opening of the door is as loud in its whisper as a gust of howling wind. He feels the soft huff of air against his cheek as you reign in your galloping heart. Things were just getting good.... With a groan, a mixture of disappointment and the dying embers of desire, he sits up as you adjust your nightgown and tilts his head at the small outline in the doorway.
“Yes, Princess? What is it?”
“I heard a noise. In my wardrobe. I think there’s a monster in there.” Her voice is small, almost tentative as it floats through the darkened bedroom. Jin pushes back his covers, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He reaches back, squeezing your hand, a gesture that says I’ve got this, before getting up and walking toward his daughter. "Alright little lady, let's go investigate." She slips her small hand in his, clutching her stuffed baby eagle close as they make their way back to her bedroom.
Stepping inside, she pulls her hand away from his and points to the white and lavender closet. “In there, Papa.” Her garnet-colored eyes are wide as Jin clears his throat, fixing a scowl on his face as he faces the wooden doors.
“Listen up. This is Prince Jin speaking and any and all monsters hiding in this wardrobe better leave RIGHT now or else you’ll have to answer to me!”
“Yeah!”, she adds helpfully, eyes narrowing as she glares at the wardrobe, a mirror image of her father.
Jin reaches forward and flings open one door, then the other. Inside are all her dresses and coats. Her shoes all lined up neatly along the bottom. A few stockings peek out of small drawers and her wooden training sword and shield with Jin's crest lean against the side, askew. Jin searches through the clothing, stands on his toes to check the top shelves. He makes a show of it, incredibly thorough and yet serious. Then he turns around to face his daughter. “Looks like any monsters are long gone. And they won’t be coming back.”
A smile like the dawn breaks over her face and she rushes towards him. He leans down and catches her in his arms, holding her tightly against his broad chest. “Thank you, Papa. No monster would ever be stupid enough to come back now!” 
Jin carries her back to her white four-poster bed, grinning as he lays her down amongst her fluffy pillows and pulls the soft covers up to her chest. “Nope, not when they know they have to deal with me.” He glances over his shoulder at the wardrobe. “But how about tomorrow, we go to the knights training grounds and you bring your sword and shield. We can work on your swordsmanship so any monster knows to be just as afraid of you too.”
She grins, nodding eagerly. “Good idea!”
Her enthusiasm has him returning her grin and he leans down, running a large hand over the soft chestnut of her hair. “Alright then. Get some sleep so you’re ready for tomorrow.” She snuggles down into the warmth of her blankets, stifling a yawn even as she rolls over. “I love you, Papa.” He swallows for a moment at the lump of emotion that suddenly swells his throat. “I love you too. Princess. So much.”
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Keith
Little feet whisper across dark green carpeting, continuing their journey to his side of the bed. “Papa,” she whispers, tugging on his covers, her stuffed deer dangling from her grip on its antlers. Keith inhales, his handsome face frowning in his sleep as her voice cuts through the fog of dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up yet. However, his daughter is nothing but insistent. She pats his upper arm, clearing her throat and speaking again, this time louder. “Papa. Wake up.”
His golden eyes open slowly and he blinks as he returns to the here and now. The sight of her, with her ashen blond hair and your intelligent eyes, has him sitting up in bed, the last misty tendrils of dreaming vanishing like fog in the sunlight.
“Yes, darling? What’s wrong? Is everything ok?” 
She glances to your empty side of the bed. “I miss Mama.” Those words send his heart spinning, leaving a trail of ache inside his chest as he nods slowly. “I do too. But you remember how she had to go back to Rhodolite. I promise, she’ll be home again soon. Just a few more days.” He reaches for her hand, his thumb running soothingly over her knuckles, marveling at the tininess of her fingers, the softness of her skin. She speaks again, her voice compressed by sadness. “I still miss her.”
He sighs as she hangs her small head, curls covering her face. Then he has an idea. Slowly he gets out of bed and leads her by the hand across the room to the heavy glass doors of the balcony off of the bedroom, his favorite place in the palace to stargaze. Keeping a secure hold of her hand, he slides open one heavy glass door and then walks with her to the large brass telescope. “Take a look in there,” he murmurs, kneeling as he adjusts the eyepiece for her. He wraps one arm around her middle, holding her close. “Can you see it?”
She leans forward slightly. “It’s blurry.” Carefully he adjusts the focuser until he hears her breath catch. “Oh it’s so pretty!” She stares through the telescope in wonder at the bright star, brilliant in its silvery-blue light. 
“That,” he says softly, almost dreamlike, “is your mother’s favorite star.” Gently he pulls her away from the telescope and points upwards. “You can see it without the telescope just there, see the three stars just in a row?” She nods emphatically. “It’s the one all the way to the right.” He pauses, resting his chin tenderly on her small shoulder. “When you miss Mama at night, like you do now, you can look up at the sky and find her favorite star. It may make you feel better.”
She turns around and wraps her arms around Keith’s neck, hugging him with all her might. “Thank you, Papa.” He hugs her close, this walking embodiment of his heart, and smiles.
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Gilbert
He is already sitting up when his daughter approaches the bed, her stuffed tiger tucked under her arm. He heard the opening of the door and knew who it was immediately. No one else would ever dare to enter his bedroom in the middle of the night without fearing for their life.
“It’s past midnight, Mäuschen. Why are you wandering through the shadows?” His voice is a gentle that only you and those very close to Gilbert have ever heard. A genuine softness like the blanket of dusk as it falls over the land, the protective moon whispering as it cradles a favorite star. His daughter sighs, pushing away a stray lock of dark hair. “I’m hungry.”
He laughs quietly, his chin tilting down as he regards her. He speaks quietly, not wanting to wake you. You need rest after all, so close to the birth of your second child. He gets up, slipping on his black silk robe and then holds out his hand. She takes hold of it, wrapping her cool little fingers tightly around him and then pauses. “Wait a moment, Papa.” Turning back to the bed, she carefully places her stuffed tiger next to you where you sleep. “Watch out for Mama,” she orders sternly and doesn’t notice the bright gleam in Gilbert’s eyes as he smiles at her protective gesture. She turns, grabbing his hand and nods. “Ok Papa, fertig.” Ready.
He leads her out of the bedroom and a short walk down the hall to his office. Once inside, he walks over to his massive wooden desk, made of the finest dark walnut, and leans forward, turning on the desk lamp. He settles into his chair, into the crimson velvet cushioned seat and motions for her to join him. The Obsidian princess climbs into his lap, eyes bright as she looks at him expectantly. “Shh…this is our secret,” he murmurs, tapping his finger on the end of her nose. She grins slowly and nods. “Versprochen, Papa.” I promise. One arm holds her close as he leans down and opens a bottom drawer. Inside is a small round tin which he takes out and sets on his desk, next to the missives and parchments waiting for him come morning light.
“Go ahead,” he says encouragingly and she leans forward, carefully working the lid off with chubby fingers and then he feels her straighten up in excitement when its contents are revealed. She reaches in and pulls out a hearty oatmeal and raisin biscuit. The cookie is nearly at her lips when she pauses, thoughtfully. Shifting in his lap, she turns to face him and then holds it up. “Do you want a bite, Papa?” Her generosity has him smiling, a warmth like no other brightening his heart as he pretends to consider. “You don’t mind sharing?” She shakes her head, several loose, dark curls framing a face that is the youthful echo of yours. He leans forward and bites off a tiny corner, then leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Mama makes the best biscuits.” 
She bites into the same cookie with much less restraint and then smiles, chewing happily. “Mm hm.” She leans back against his chest and he wraps his arms around her as she continues munching. “Just this one and then it's back to bed with you, little mouse.” She nods, mouth too full to answer and focus far too lost in the pleasure of her treat to respond verbally. Gilbert sighs, turning to rest his cheek against the top of her head. He is utterly and completely at peace.
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Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381
For Leon content: @leonscape
For Gilbert and Leon: @ozalysss
For Keith: @drewadoodle-dandy
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xxsycamore · 3 months
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❝ 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ❞
╰┈➤ ❤ You're overstimulated, and Napoleon is being a bully.
Napoleon Bonaparte/f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Overstimulation; Multiple Orgasms; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Teasing; Embarrassment; Crying; Dacryphilia; Dirty Talk; Begging; rough but also soft sex; Aftercare • wordcount: 2,048 • masterlist
a/n: I've been wanting to have a napo smut titled Crybaby for SO LONG NOW. Ever since that one event came out where he kept calling MC that. Knowing him, I think he might be into this...
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"Napoleon… you're staring…"
Chest still rising and falling in labored breaths, you try to get the attention of the man seated between your legs, as he yet still fails to snap out of the trance on his own.
You know you can do this faster if you close your legs and devoid him of the view that so seems to interest him. But you don't -  on the excuse of the tiredness in your limbs.
The load of cum he'd put deep inside you just moments ago has now began to gush out and Napoleon's clear jade eyes, still clouded by lust, proudly follow the white rivulet down the curve of your slightly raised legs.
"I am."
He's shameless and blunt, knowing fairly well the effect it has on you. The embarrassment you're trying to evoke in him ricochets right back at you, as he makes you self-aware of the fact that you feel a certain way about him staring. At least enough to point it out.
Napoleon chuckles, easily making the tension dissipate as he leans down to place a peck against your pursed lips. He notices you trying to prop up on your elbows and is quick to gently push you back down.
"I'll take care of everything, just rest."
Still pouting because he's unfairly knightly as if he wasn't being a big tease just a second ago, you sink deeper into the soft embrace of the duvet, losing the inner fight too soon and letting yourself be pampered. Your eyes are closed by the time he returns, but you feel his presence as he climbs on the bed again.
You can't help the small shiver running down your lower half as your senses register a damp cloth grazing along your skin. The coolness it brings is not unwelcome on your overheated areas, and Napoleon is so gentle with you. He made a mess, it's only rightful for him to clean up after himself, after all.
You mewl as Napoleon's fingers brush past your clit. The added friction from the cloth makes his touch foreign and exciting to your sex, and you try not to fall too deep into the feeling because that's hardly the point. Even if the rational part of your brain understands that this is not Napoleon toying with you, the psychological part has other ideas.
But so does the man above you, encouraged by your lascivious sounds. He smirks and places his thumb right above the bundle of nerves at the apex of your folds, and drags his finger down slowly.
The moment the very edge of his fingertip comes in contact with your sweet spot, shockwaves strike through your core like lightning, making your lower half rise from the bed.
"Ahh!"
The smirk stays on Napoleon's face as he pretends to carry on with his task of cleaning you. His thumb grazes past your clit once more and you jump again, letting out a prolonged whimper.
He must be enjoying your reactions a little too much. While the sight of you writhing in pleasure entertains him every time he finds you underneath him, this time it's so much easier to pry them out, when you're overstimulated like that.
He knows better than to mess with you when you're spent and too sensitive, having earned his fair share of weak slaps against the arms or across his face for such indulgences.
Except, this time your protest never comes.
In the back of his head, he tells himself he's being way too cruel to you, but then he's reminded of your words. You're the one telling him time and time again not to hold back and to love you with all of his heart's intensity; and in the bedroom you're only more encouraging.
He flicks your clit with his finger once again, and your legs instinctively close against his arm.
And when you're being like that, he only falls harder for you.
The cloth is quickly discarded and forgotten as Napoleon makes himself more comfortable between your legs, like a big cat leisurely playing with its food until it's had enough. You peek from between half-closed eyelids, finding the sight of Napoleon's forearm sandwiched between your tightly shut legs. The muscles on it flexing because of the movement of his fingers where you can't see them; the vein running down the side of it becoming more prominent.
The sounds spilling from your lips are characteristic of the moments where he's fucking you so hard you forget to care about being too lewd; yet now he's doing so little and you're sounding so pathetic. Naturally, the back of your hand comes over your agape mouth in an ill-fated attempt to regain some of your decency. You subconsciously bite into the knuckles of it.
Napoleon eyes you with calculation among other things. He needs to be careful for the signs of you being too caught in it all to judge when it's too much, never taking the trust you put in him for granted.
He loves the way you squeeze his hand, even if it soon becomes numbing. He stokes your clit a little more to his best extent, the sensation now doing the opposite to you and making you part your legs wide, releasing him at last.
That only gives him an opening to attack, resuming his slow, firm strokes that make shockwaves run through you.
"Awww, you got wet again."
Your breath hitches, being caught by surprise despite how obvious it is that your body is bound to get aroused again under his ministrations. You watch in embarrassment as Napoleon cooes and gathers some of the lubrication you secreted and rotates his fingers in the air to show you the web-thin thread between them. With how well he cleaned you just awhile ago, your arousal now becomes only more prominent somehow.
When his thumb returns to your clit, it's slicked and the movement becomes more fluid, leaving you with no room to catch your breath between strokes. You let out more needy sounds as overstimulation and fresh arousal clash inside you.
"You're hurting yourself… Let's put that hand away."
Blinking in confusion, you need a moment to understand exactly what he means. As Napoleon gently guides your hand away from your mouth, you see the teeth marks you left on it. Napoleon's own hand follows your own until it falls safely to the side of your head, and he returns his gaze to yours.
There are physiological tears at the corners of your eyes.
Napoleon lets out a short and sharp laughing noise.
"Crybaby."
You toss your head to the side, only making the shiny dewdrops caught on your eyelashes more obvious to the man above you. Your lips are pursed in a permanent pout.
The warmth of Napoleon's hand on yours leaves you only to keep your left leg spread wide, as he quickens the pace of rubbing your clit. He strokes the overstimulation out of you, as your body gradually becomes more pliant and welcoming to his touch in a familiar old anticipation.
But for what it's worth, the slightly raw feeling at your core nudges those tears into finally spilling past your eyes.
Napoleon cooes at you again, leaning down until you feel his breath fanning over your cheek. He kisses your hot skin, his lips catching the tears. You wonder if your tears from pleasure arouse him.
"Crybaby."
He's such a bully.
Despite the obscene circumstances, he seems to find you nothing short of adorable, with the way he peppers you with kisses.
"My poor crybaby darling. What am I gonna do with you?"
The growing arousal makes you greedy and demanding, as you toss again, but this time in a provoking fashion. No, letting your body's language speak for you is not enough anymore, you need to spell it out for him.
"I feel so… empty…"
The momentary halt of his fingers gives him away, even if he pretends not to hear you. Your legs move frantically, switching between closing and opening in desperation. As horny as you are, your body will need more than that to be pushed over the edge. You have no choice but to try again.
"Napoleoooon… put it in… I need your cock again…please…?"
The small curve of that last word that emphasizes your begging does things to him, you know fairly well. He stares you down.
"How are you so sure that I can go again? Or have you been actually just trying to seduce me all this time?"
For a moment your eyes widen, finding reason in his question. Just because you're burning from the inside doesn't mean that Napoleon is also ready to-
The sensation of something hard rubbing against your inner thigh startles you.
Soothing is not the right word to describe this discovery, as Napoleon barely gives you time to rearrange your thoughts before he positions himself over you properly, guiding his swollen cockhead in.
Believing that your little midday love session was truly ending awhile ago, Napoleon had put on his trousers, even if leaving the belt to fasten only after he takes care of you. Now with the change of plans, he cares little about discarding his pants again, as fucking you on the spot is more important.
As a result, the buckle of his belt repeatedly clashes against the bed, the metal prong making a clinking sound that joins with the noises of copulation. Napoleon fucks you into the mattress, knowing he can go as fast and as wild as he wishes, neither of you bound to last long anyway.
The last traces of tears escape from the corners of your eyes that have watered one last time with the intrusion of his cock. Despite the sensitivity of your walls, your core remembers Napoleon's shape so well, greedily sucking him in as soon as he builds up a steady pace.
Your arms and legs lock around him, as if afraid that all of this is just another one of his tricks.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard— fill you to the brim—"
You all but scream against his chest as you can only receive his rapid pounding and wait for him to fulfill his promise. Your walls clamp down around him, desperately dragging him together with you in the pit of pleasure as you feel your orgasm approaching dangerously fast.
The noises of skin on skin fill your ears along with Napoleon's occasional swearing, cracking the composure of his otherwise not too filthy mouth. He slams his hips onto yours sloppily, losing all demure, and finally erupts inside you.
Reaching your peak together with him, you see stars behind your eyelids as Napoleon's cum paints your insides spurt by spurt. For a second among the euphoria you wonder if you feel so full because some of his cum from earlier was still trapped inside you.
The vice-tight grip of your arms around him turns into something softer, more reminiscent of an embrace. So does the hold Napoleon's strong hands have on your waist. As he settles you back down on the mattress from where you soared unnoticeably, your body tight as a string, you gradually begin to relax once more, melting together with him to a content pile of limbs.
Napoleon rains kisses on your face, from your forehead to the curve of your lip to your slightly damp cheeks.
"Now, what if I wanted to watch my cum leak down your thighs again?"
You can't believe him. Rolling over as if to avert your gaze in disdain, you turn your back to him.
He opens his mouth to bite back, preparing something along the lines of not deserving the cold treatment after how good he loved you, but he pauses. On wobbly legs, you arch your back and tuck your knees beneath you.
The sight is all but scandalous as Napoleon's load runs down your leg.
With forehead pressed against the bed, you let out a faux sigh, seeing how lost for words he seems to be.
"Just try not to get aroused again, Napoleon. Please."
Caressing the curve of your thigh up to your ass, Napoleon lets out a wry laugh, even if there's no actual bite to it.
"Look who's talking."
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Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @my-day6 @princess-pray-a Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!
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ikesimpleton · 2 months
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Confused Chevalier is great Chevalier
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etheries1015 · 5 months
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"Oh?" Sariel said amusingly to the cold blonde prince, "I figured you two would get along nicely, seein as (y/n) is the author of one of your favorite books." Chevalier paused, eyes widening slightly in shock before going reverting back to normal cold stare.
"Oh!" You chirped up, "you've read my books? which one is your favorite?" You chuckled excitingly, not getting much of a reaction out of the brutal beast.
"I was not aware you were an author," Chev said, looking at you, "Be that is it may; You do not seem to conduct yourself the way you write." You scrunched your nose together and pursed your lips.
"Ouch," You chuckled, "What a backhanded compliment, thank you."
"Huh?" Luke chimed in with a tilted head, "But when looking into your background your name wasn't anywhere linked to any sort of author," He pointed out, a smile of admiration playing on his features. You shrugged before teasingly responding, "Haven't you heard of a pen name?" Raising an impressed eyebrow, Noktos lips curled up in a sly smile. "Oh? You'll have to tell me what it is, so I can read it myself, I would love to see what our precious Belle can do. Do you have a copy with you?"
Clavis roared out in laughter, pulling a very familiar book from behind his back, handing it over to Nokto. Where had he gotten that? Nobody knows, and never will, I suppose.
"I had already known of your writing endeavors!" He boasted, "Yours truly even took a read. Although, I fear your story lacks a very distinct amount of fun..."
Silvio, who was also listening in, decided to take the liberty of snatching the book out of Noktos hand, asking what only any businessman would ask.
"So...how much of a profit have ya made off of your books?" He studied it dubiously in hand, feeling the grooves of the spine and quality of the pages, "You must be pretty well off if it's considered the 'brutal beasts' favorites." With a haughty smile, he naturally threw in, "If I like it enough, I might even invest in it, if you'll make a deal with me, I'll be sure all of Benetoite knows your name, lady." Sighing slightly you gave him a side glance before rolling your eyes.
"I make enough to be content. what matters is that others enjoy my writing, not how much I make off of it." You replied bluntly. Silvio only scoffed before keith also gave his two cents, holding out his hand for Silvio to hand him your book. With a startled look, his eyes lit up in excitement.
"I've read this book! you wrote it? I'm a huge fan of all of your works, the way you write is so mesmerizing it's difficult to put it down! Would you mind uh- ah..." He stopped himself with a blush tainting his cheeks, "I'm sorry! You must not like being bombarded with all of my questions. I-" You interrupted Keith with a hearty chuckle.
"Don't worry Keith, let's have tea and sweets sometime and you can ask me all you want." You threw a side glance at Chevalier, "You're welcome to join as well, Prince Chevalier." He glanced up from his paperwork in hand only for a mere second, enough for you to understand he heard what you had suggested.
"Ah-" Keith started as Gilberts hand snaked from behind and snatched the book out of his hand, flipping the book to it's back to read the synopsis. He looked up at you with his piercing red eye, his smile unwavering as he tucked the hardcover under his arm.
"A noblewoman writing a book in an alias," He hummed, "I believe any other would like their name to be well known, to bring up their family name and increase the likelihood of their popularity," You froze in place and glanced around the room for an awkward moment, trying to think of some excuse to tell the Obsidianite prince. After a moment of silence, he let out a low giggle, turning on his heel and heading out the door.
"I'm only teasing, little rabbit. Thank you for the book, I sincerely hope you do not disappoint. After all, if he (chev) likes it, surely it must have its merits. I will find you when I'm done, I want to join in on your little tea party to discuss my thoughts as well." You sucked in your breath as he left the room, your pursed lips coming apart with a 'pop!'.
"Well," You chuckled nervously, grabbing the drink Silvio had graced you with and lifting it in the air before downing the contents, "Here's to hoping he likes the book!"
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maries-gallery · 6 months
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Day ?? of @kissmetwicekissmedeadly 's visions of temptation event! And my first contribution to kinktober <3
PROMPT: NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR,
genre: fluff (if you squint), nsfw, mdni
warnings: dirty talk, variation of doggy style, dacryphilia, praise kink, penetrative sex, female bodied reader
wordcount: 1k
mdni banner by the lovely @/saradika
For more content like this, check the masterlist
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You’re a tease. A terrible one at that, who should have known better than to play with your husband’s nerves. 
Honestly Chevalier doesn’t know what you were thinking, showing up to his office in nothing but a light nightdress, the thin fabric giving him a sinful outline of your pert nipples and the short hem giving him a sweet taste of your bare core. 
Surely you must have known what you were doing, because there was no way you’d be as naive as to play with fire and hope not to get burned. Because whilst most people thought Chevalier made of ice, around you he breathed nothing but passionate flames and inspired nothing but fire. 
“What do you think you are doing?” He asks, the hints of a smirk on his lips as he gazes at you. 
“Me? Nothing. I’m simply here to wish you good night.” You say with a grin that has his heart swelling, your eyes glinting with mischievous intent. You know exactly what you are doing, naughty simpleton that you are. 
He watches you slipping out of his office, your scent still embracing his senses and beguiling him to your side. Amusement dances in his eyes, clear blue shadowed by flaming desire. 
You wouldn’t be able to complain about this one. And if you did, he’d be proud to remind you of how you brought this upon yourself. 
You’re on the bed, ass up in the air and chest flat against the mattress as Chevalier pounds into you from behind. A hot tear pearls down your cheek as his merciless thrusts push you forward, his hand clamped on your mouth to muffle your pathetic moans and cries of his name. 
He’s rough, knocking the air out of your lungs with every slam of his hips against yours, eager to see just how long you can last without screaming his name. 
You always try so hard to keep quiet for your son whose bedroom lies just beside yours, biting your lower lip to repress any moan that threatens to spill out of you. 
And as much as Chevalier adores how caring you are for your child, he loves how it only takes his cock drilling inside of you for you to break and sing for him, any thought thrown out of the window as your cries pierce through the silence of the night. 
He leans over you, firm chest against your back as his hot breath fans over the heated skin of your nape. Merciless as he pushes his cock deeper inside of you, stretching you out for him and carving his love inside of you. 
He smirks as you whimper in his embrace. 
“Tu aimes ça, n'est-ce pas ? Devoir rester silencieuse pour ne pas le réveiller alors que je te baise.” (You like it, don't you? Having to keep quiet for our son when I fuck you?) He whispers in your ear, as he ruts his hips against yours, enjoying how it only takes him the right angle and his cock nudging at your sweetest spot for your eyes to cross. 
You can only nod, silenced by his hand and lost to the warmth coiling in your stomach. Thoughts blur and sentences jumble in your head. You flutter around him as the meaning of his words dawn on you. His pants and the slap of his balls against your clit the only thing you can hear through the daze of your pleasure. 
“Tu me prends si bien.” (You take me so well) He groans, on the verge of tumbling down his release. And your desire pools inside of you at the sinful edge to his voice, for Chevalier never groans or grunts, never betrays any sign of vulnerability, apart from when he’s buried deep between your folds and about to give him the fruits of his release. 
But he can’t have that, because Chevalier insists on you coming first, for the sole purpose of watching you lose control as your limbs quiver with the flashes of your release. 
His arm snakes around your waist, fingers trailing down your stomach and flicking over your clit. Electricity jolts through your veins as his thumb dances on your bud, sparks of white flying in your vision as you climb up the ropes of pleasure. 
“Tu vas jouir pour moi, n’est-ce pas ?” (You're going to cum for me, right?) He questions and you have half a mind to nod again, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he sheathes himself all the way inside of you. “Answer me.” 
He knows it takes all your strength for you to formulate a coherent answer and keep your voice even. He doesn’t care, he likes to taste the pleasure stuttering on your tongue. 
“Ye-Yes! Mmhm- so close!” You cry in a wanton moan, “Don-Don’t stop!” 
Oh, he has no intention in stopping, not when you’re so close and your walls flutter around him. Instead his fingers tease at your sensitive clit some more, in pace with his thrusts. 
“Bonne- Ngh- fille.” (Good girl) His words trail down your skin and send a shiver up your spine just as you reach your high. Your jaw falling in a silent cry of his name as dots of hot white pleasure crowd your vision. 
His arms tighten around you, holding you up against him as your pleasure ripples through you, a grunt rumbling through his chest as your walls clamp down on his cock and coax his own orgasm out of him.
His hips stutter with one final thrust, sheathing his cock deep between your folds and painting your insides white with his release. Pulling out just in time for a cry from your three year old to ring through the house. 
With a soft smile he gets out of bed and leans over, placing a tender kiss to your brow as he buttons up his shirt and puts on his underwear. 
“I’ll take care of him. You rest and go to sleep.” 
With that he steps out of your room and into the bedroom of your son. And after a few seconds the crying stops, instead replaced by the gentle voice of your husband as he sings your child back to sleep. 
taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @xbalayage @candied-boys @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @veervers @ikemen-writer @ikesimpleton @ikesimp100 @kalims-pessimist-bestie
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spoopy-fish-writes · 7 months
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| I love you, I love you, I love you
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Suitor(s): Ray
TW: Crying, mention of periods, mention of being sick
Genre: Comfort
Notes: AFAB MC || Didn’t know how badly I needed this until I was writing it writing for Ikerev is genuinely going to be what gets me out of my slump just watch || Does anyone even play Ikerev anymore. Am I speaking into a void
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“Can I kiss you? Please?" You were barely a centimetre away from Ray, your eyes looking into his with the warmth that you always did, loving, cherishing, adoring. And yet that clashed with an equally prominent biting cold that seemed to flinch back from your expression when he tried to look too close that he couldn't quite place as your eyebrows pinched together in a way that made you look so fragile in that one moment.
He wasn't sure how it had got to this point, your hand on his chest while you leaned towards him, your other resting on the sofa to help you keep balance.
But he couldn't say no to you. Not that he would want to and certainly not now when you seemed so desperate for his affection.
So a "Yes" fell from his lips, sure and barely above a whisper.
You wasted only a second, a pause as your eyes flitted from his eyes down to his lips and then back up to his eyes as if checking for further confirmation.
He didn't make an attempt to initiate this kiss this time. Not when you looked as though you were ready to shatter at the slightest touch, so he waited for you to lean in, your lips barely a light press against his - tentative.
He can feel the shaky breath that leaves you against his lips when you pull away and his eyes meet yours - almost an invitation, though it's not hard to take it as such when his pupils are blown wide and he looks at you so gently - as your hands slowly move up to cup his face, half tangled in his hair so that you could pull him towards you again.
It's slow and still soft as you kiss him once, twice, three times, handling him with so much care that he isn't sure whether you thought he would break or yourself if you decided to be any rougher with him.
Either way, your hands trembled as they moved slightly against his cheek, mindlessly tracing his features from his lashes which dipped low when he closed his eyes - a mercy really, as you feared that he would have seen the way that your chest rose and fell so shakily and brows furrowed had he had them open - to his brow and down to his cheek, so gently rubbing over light burns and scars which had almost completely faded.
"Love.." comes the mumble against your lips and you feel Ray softly pull away, his expression one of concern that makes you want to shy away from him as one of his hands reaches up to your face to brush under your eye, brushing away a stray tear you hadn't paid any mind to.
"Love, what's wrong?" The gentle sound of his voice makes you want to cry even more; you felt too vulnerable, too weak to be able to handle such gentleness.
You lent into his palm and closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the feeling of his warm hand and focusing on it to calm you down before you spoke.
"Just..." What was wrong?
"I- I don't really know. I feel upset but I don't know why and it's been messing with me for a few days between being sick, being on my period, being...generally annoyed.
I don't know. It all just sucks. I just... wanted to be close to you right now. It helps.” Your voice cracks as ramble ends off on a heavy sigh which evened out your previously agitated breathing. You slumped into his chest, burying your face in his neck before deciding against it and bending to hide your face in his chest, prompting a fond huff of amusement from the king of spades which you ignored as you continued to speak. "You're warm, and it's nice. Like sunshine."
"I need to stay closer to people who feel like sunshine," you continued mumbling. "It's nicer around you. I don't feel so mellow or upset. Like I’ve gone outside after a long week being sick."
Ray hums as if in agreement, arms moving to wrap around your waist. He makes a contemplative noise and you look up slightly while green eyes meet yours.
His lips tilt up into a gentle crescent as his eyes soften and you have to look away again, even if he does chuckle at the way that you bury your face in his chest again. His lips press to the top of your head and you can feel the movement of them as he speaks.
“Then you should stay as close to me as possible. If not for yourself, I should stay closer to people who feel like sunshine too, even when there are a few clouds around them.”
You huff a weak but genuine laugh against his chest and shake your head slightly. “You're corny and embarrassing.”
"I recall you starting this."
"Irrelevant."
He laughs again and it’s so hard to hold onto your annoyance and upset when you hear it because it really is like a soothing balm to your wounds when he laughs so genuinely and you can feel the vibrations of his chest. He holds you that little bit tighter and you relax almost immediately, tears no longer having any use when you’re in his embrace.
“I love you. I feel like I don’t tell you enough.”
One of his hands moves to cradle your head and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Telling me everyday isn’t enough?”
Your voice is a little croaky and your sore throat makes an appearance as you speak. “I don’t think it’ll be enough until I’ve told you enough to make up for every day I didn’t know you. I would have loved you all of those days as well if I’d found you sooner, I think.”
“That’s a lot of days.”
“It is, but I think I can manage. I love being around you and you always make me feel better. I love that you’re so free all of the time and you always make me feel like I can be too. I just love you. I guess. All of you.”
Again, his arms tighten and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too. I hope I can always make you feel better. Make you feel like you can be better.”
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Do not repost or claim, only reblog 💜
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revasserium · 8 months
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congratulations 2K followers may I request Victor from ikevil?Theme 17.number the stars.Thank you,have a nice day💕
number the stars
victor; 1,347 words; fluff, mostly -- kinda weird but victor is also kinda weird so i hope you don't mind nonny -- and thanks so much for sending something in!!!
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“count the stars with me,” he says one night, his hair dark as the shade of a broken promise, his smile just as sweet. you purse your lips, looking up from the typewriter at your desk.
“i’m… sorry?” you ask, quirking your head as you lean back in your chair, wondering if you’d heard correctly.
victor’s smile is moon-sliver and cyanide, and you find yourself drawn inexplicably to it, like a comet towards the sun.
“come,” he says, offering you a hand, standing by your door, looking for all the world as if he were inviting you for tea. but you know better than that now — don’t you? you wonder.
you get up anyway, telling yourself that you’d been wanting to stretch your legs anyways and the gardens should be beautiful at this hour.
“it’s — it’s a full moon tonight,” you say, tilting your head back to admire the scattered light of the milky way, streaked across the sky. beside you, victor hums in agreement. you feel his eyes on you before you see him, the dull simmer and heat of his gaze as it grazes over your skin, soft as fingertips, strong as sin.
“how many do you think there are?” he asks, casually, turning when you catch him staring, unabashed even as your own cheeks flush with heat.
“what, the stars?” you ask, casting your eyes back up.
“yes.”
you purse your lips, unable to keep your curiosity from bubbling over.
“why?”
victor’s body shakes with his blue-bell laughter, “why not wonder such things?”
you resist the urge to roll your eyes. but of course — has victor ever really needed a reason? or a rhyme, for that matter?
“i don’t know… billions… more than billions, probably,” you say, thinking back to the various headlines you’d seen splashed across the front pages of the papers — scientific discovery this, neighboring galaxies that. you let out a soft sigh as victor turns his head back towards you.
“mm… strange, isn’t it? that we’re all so terribly insignificant and yet… here we are… struggling against our own insignificance every hour of every day…” he flicks a silken strand of hair from his shoulders, leading you towards the tiny pagoda where you’d all shared afternoon tea.
“strange? i… i don’t think so,” you sit down next to him, pressing your palms to the cool of the bench beneath you, “i mean… all the stars up there…” you wave your hand at the vast expanse of night sky, “they’re all just… burning themselves up, aren’t they? isn’t that… a struggle against insignificance too? isn’t that… it’s own kind of curse?”
victor opens his mouth, and then he blinks, pauses. no sound comes from him for a solid ten seconds before his entire body spills into a fit of near-silent laughter. you watch him, caught between confusion and bewilderment, wondering if you’d said something truly strange before he shakes his head and presses a large, warm palm to the top of your head.
“yes — yes that they are… just burning themselves up… all for us to call them beautiful — terrible, isn’t it? i can’t think of anything worse in the world than being a star…” he’s still chuckling when he finishes, pulling his hand away from your head to smile at you, a darkness twinkling behind his eyes that you’ve never quite had the courage to question.
“you’re making fun of me,” you say, narrowing your eyes and making to pull away, but victor shakes his head and pulls you back, humming happily as you topple easily into his chest.
“not in the slightest! i just… i just love the way you think, that’s all.”
you can’t help the shiver that chases its way down your spine at the softness of his words, at the closeness of his voice, brushing by your ear like a summer breeze. you swallow hard as his arm comes almost naturally to rest around your waist, and when you look up, it’s once again to find him watching you. you press your lips into a line and try not to stare at the beauty mark on his bottom lip but —
“ah… if you keep looking at me like that…” victor grins as he leans down, a finger tipping your chin up towards him, his voice thick with honey, warm as poison, “i can’t promise… i’ll be able to keep being such a gentleman…”
you lick your lips, watch as his eyes flicker down to track the movement. your breath flutters in your chest, hummingbird quick.
“i — i thought you asked me out here to c-count the stars…”
victor grins, “certainly i did… and i am… see? they’re right here…” he leans in, so close you’re almost nose to nose, so close you almost go cross-eyed to keep him in focus.
“right here… i think i can see the entire sky in your eyes…”
a tiny whine works it’s way out of your throat and victor tuts, shaking his head.
“i’ve been waiting to use that line for quite some time but…” he makes to pull away, only for you to pull him back with your fingers fisting in the thick silk and velvet of his clothes.
your throat feels dry, but you swallow passed the desert blooming at the base of your tongue as your search his face for a sign — any sign —
“h-how many are there?” you ask, your voice softer than you remember.
victor’s eyebrows twitch, “how many… what?” but the curve of his lips tells you another story.
“how many stars did you count?”
fire licks its way up your stomach into your chest as you feel his fingers tighten around your waist.
“i… i’ll admit that i’ve lost count — i’ve been distracted, you see —” victor’s grin tilts like a planet on it’s axis, and you feel your world shift along with it, degree by degree. like this, you can almost taste the weight of his words, the sound of his breathing, the liquid of his smile — like this, you want to sink your fingers into the fine gossamer of his hair and tug —
he is kissing you before you realize, severing your thoughts with the silver scissor precision of his mouth and you’re left untethered, clutching at him with the tips of your fingers, feeling him pulling you close, close, closer — a thick moan winds its way from his throat and you lean in further, push your mouth to his to take it in, to take it all in —
“please…”
his voice is shaking when he pulls away, his lips the perfect shade of treason.
you don’t feel your own trembling until he pulls you closer, buries his face in the crook of your neck and breathes.
“gods…” he says, wrapping both arms around you, his voice a wreck of barely contained emotions, of barely restrained desires, “by all the stars…”
you find yourself smiling as you let yourself be held, let yourself sink into the tremor and shake of this thing — held between the negative space of your bodies — whatever it is, at least you know it’s precious. at least you know it’s the most sacred kind of burning.
“all of them?” you ask, in what you hope is a light, playful kind of voice, even as victor lets you pull away, to reach up to brush a few fallen strands of hair from his face with your fingers, “we don’t even know how many there are.”
victor’s smile is indulgent and full of surrender.
“no… we don’t,” he reaches up to trail his fingers through your hair, thumbing at the ends as he shakes his head, “but… i think with you… i’d like to try.”
“try… what?”
“why… counting all the stars of the sky, of course.”
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requests are open! <3
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koladelight · 8 months
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Like the sea - Silvio x MC (Ikemen Prince)
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Title: Like the sea
Pairing: Silvio x MC (named Emma in this)
Tags: Fluff, drama, angst. No smut. Suitable for minors.
Summary: The first time Silvio is away for a longer time after they settled in Benitoite. Silvio's POV.
Let me know if you want more Silvio, Clavis, Chevalier or Gilbert fics.
It had been far too long since Silvio had seen Emma. He had been away from the palace for three weeks while Emma stayed behind. Life aboard the ship kept him largely busy, but the upcoming storm had worried him. He knew Emma was idiotic enough to spend the entire day frantic over him once she would learn about the bad weather approaching the ship. Spending the day with the ship rocking back and forth on the waves and getting soaked from the rain wasn't anything unusual for Silvio, but this was the first time he had ever been away from home for so long with someone actually missing him while waiting for his return. The feeling often left him speechless. Never before had he wished to reach his homeland as quickly as he found himself wanting to now.
The storm arrived with slight change in the air at first. Everything was eerily quiet, quite fitting for the phrase ''calm before the storm''. Silvio had never hoped for easy sailing or the winds to be kind as such things rarely came to pass on these waters. The skies were turning grey ever so slowly and the sails fluttered with the gusts of air trembling around the creaking structures of their land on sea. It didn't take long for the rain to start pouring down and the entire crew was sliding on the slippery deck within minutes. Silvio felt his muscles working far over their normal capacity and his senses were entirely maxed out as he rode the beast that was the anger of the turbulent seas.
Before Emma, sea had been his only love and mistress worth mentioning. As the blue haired man clung to the wooden railings, splinters digging into his hands, he considered the possibility that sea was the reason he had fallen for Emma in the first place. The sea was free and fiery despite it's element, and such was Emma. Hard to predict and sometimes whimsical, the waters did as they wanted. Silvio's gaze had been drawn to Emma from the start as if he was gazing at the coast after a month long journey. It invited the eye to see, rather than just look. And he had really seen her. If he were to die because of unnatural causes, Silvio had always imagined the sea eventually taking him. The cradle of water, eternal grave in the ocean, would have been a fitting end for a sailor like himself. But now he hoped that if such misfortune were to appear in his future, he could die to protect his lover. He would gladly bare his heart for Emma, to let her be the ward of his body and soul.
When the ship finally reached the shore, the whole crew safe but spent, Silvio could hardly drag his feet to the carriage. First light of dawn had pierced the sky, but the golden light of lanterns still glimmered around him. Silvio could hardly wait for the comforting blanket that was Emma's love. Nothing would ever feel more like returning home than her tiny body wrapping around him as she welcomed him back to the safety net of her warmth. What a sensation of heart it was to be returning to something so sweet.
The door let out a slight grinding noise when Silvio entered the bedroom he shared with Emma. It was no surprise to him to see her awake on the bed, absent-mindedly reading a novel. Her soft gaze moved to inspect her lover's face immediately. Couple of frustrated tears formed in the corners of her eyes and the morning light made them sparkle. Silvio flashed her a cocky grin, as if to say ''see, I told you I would be home safe''. In a couple of long steps, he was right beside her. Still not quite used to being held, Silvio let out an alarmed yelp when Emma drew his face to her chest and wrapped her arms around his cold shoulders. There are different types of hugs. Some are gentle with plenty of room to breathe and some are strong ones that are meant to show how much you'll never want to part. This one was of the latter quality. Silvio felt Emma around him as if she was trying to melt the very core of her soul into him, to be one with him forever.
''I hate you,'' she whispered, but pressed a firm kiss in his hair. Red blush the shade of roses and pink champagne stained Silvio's ears and face, slowly warming his neck as well. Gently he pried himself free from her hold and answered, ''I ain't buyin' that.''
One cocky smile after he pressed a passionate kiss on her lips as he cradled her tear stained cheeks. The faintest colour of rose never left his features.
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yonaaaahowell · 7 months
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HI EVERYONE!! THIS IS MY FIRST NSFW WRITING HERE! I DO APPRECIATE A HONEST REVIEW AND OPINION SO I CAN CONTINUE WRITING.. I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE IT~
Warnings: NSFW, MASTURBATION, DARK & WILD FANTASY
Minors do not interact 🔞🔞🔞
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Keith Howell is reading at the library, secretly glancing at you as you grab some books from the shelf. He saw how your dress hugs your hourglass figure and his mind starts to drift into some wild fantasies he didn't know his capable of imagining.
The more he fantasized, the harder it became to ignore the growing bulge between his legs. With a groan of frustration, Keith stood up from his chair and began pacing restlessly around the room. It wasn't until several minutes later that he finally managed to regain control over himself enough to sit back down once more.
"Are you okay, Prince Keith?" You asked in a soft and sweet voice which send shivers in him in a pleasurable way. You are concerned upon seeing him pacing back and forth around his seat.
"I-I'm fine.. Just a little hot, I guess," He answered.
"Oh? O-okay," You replied then continue doing your tasks once more.
As he settled into his seat, Keith found himself staring at you once more as you organize more books at the library. His mind continued to wander along paths both dark and dangerous. Despite knowing better than to act on these impulses, he couldn't seem to stop himself from imagining all the ways in which he might claim you for himself – forcing you onto your knees before him, feeling your lips wrap around his cock as you sucked hungrily at its length; pushing you roughly against the nearest wall and taking you hard and fast despite your protests; even binding you tightly to his bed while he plundered your body repeatedly until neither the two of you could stand any more.
Without warning, another image flashed into his mind – you lying naked beneath him as he took you hard and fast against the nearest available surface. The thought sent waves of heat coursing through his body, causing him to groan aloud involuntarily.
Ignoring the concerned looks from you, Keith rose shakily to his feet and hurried out of the library. Once safely back in the privacy of his own chambers, he stripped quickly before climbing onto the large four-poster bed that dominated the center of the room.
Burying his face in the pillow, Keith bit down hard on his lower lip as he began to stroke himself slowly at first before picking up speed until he was pounding furiously against the mattress. It wasn't long before he felt the familiar tightening in his stomach as his orgasm approached, and with a loud cry of pleasure, he came hard all over the sheets. Hot waves of pleasure coursed through his body as he arched his back and cried out loudly, spilling thick ropes of cum across the mattress beside him.
Keith lies on his bed, his breathing ragged and sweat covers his body. Despite of his recent release, he felt his manly cock throbbing once more as images of you flashes on his mind.
"It will be a long night," Keith mutters to himself as he reached out once more to his length and thrusts it against his fist.
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chirp-a-chirp · 2 months
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Ikemen Vampire: Revolve
Isaac Newton • Isaac x MC (Mitsuki) • Tags: Fluff; wearing significant other’s clothes; teaching; star gazing • Word Count: ~1850 • Triggers: None • Rating: PG (one tiny PG-13 scene for our beloved wolf in sheep’s clothing) • Brief appearances by Napoleon and Arthur
Description: A meaningful exchange of gifts for Isaac and his love. For @fang-and-feather in the My Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange (thanks again @ikemenlibrary for hosting 🥰)! Quotes from Isaac’s route are in bold text.
Fluff Rating: *Carefully measures a teaspoon of sugar, promptly discards it and dumps entire bowl of sugar into mouth
Revolve: To move in a circular or curving orbit around a central point.
Alternate description: To think about or center on with singular focus.
The children were more rambunctious than usual this week. Several small hands clung to Isaac’s clothes as he knelt, drawing in the dirt. A stick made circular paths around a yellow ball with colored marbles in each dirt trail—a crude but effective solar system appearing before everyone’s eyes. A nagging feeling at the back of Isaac’s head told him the lesson should have been over long ago, but he was too engrossed to truly notice.
Isaac’s hands moved dramatically as he launched into the lecture, calculations running in his head. “And so you see, the Earth ROTATES on its axis but REVOLVES around the sun—“
“What’s THAT?” A blonde boy poked at Isaac’s neck, gesturing at two redden marks dotting his skin.
Isaac hastily fixed his shirt collar, a fierce blush creeping past his ears. His mind instantly recalled the evening with Mitsuki that caused those marks, and the soft sweet voice that accompanied it. His hand gravitated towards his pants pocket at the thought of Mitsuki, and the gift he planned to give her nestled within it. He wasn’t sure how to properly express what he felt for her—it was too encompassing, too vast to be explained with words. But the gift was a start.
The blonde boy continued to poke Isaac’s neck, pulling him from his musings. “I-it’s a rash William!” Isaac prayed the fib would deter the boy’s probing.
“There’s a mark on the other side of his neck too!” William’s younger brother pulled back Isaac’s collar, revealing a third blossoming mark. “Is it contagious?”
“No! Could you politely NOT do that?” Isaac adjusted his tie and shirt so all of his neck was covered. He pressed his hand to his temple and gestured to the yellow ball, desperate to get back to the lecture. “The sun here is—“
“I hope Miss Mitsuki doesn’t catch that rash.” A doe-eyed girl stared at Issac. “Professor, will Miss Mitsuki be alright?”
“I hope so Nicole,” another girl chirped. “Professor Isaac’s life revolves around her.”
“That’s not the revolving we’re talking about here!” Nicole tittered.
“Napoleon!” Isaac’s blush reached peak intensity. Instinctively, he curled into a ball while crouching over his feet. His eyes lowered to the ground that he wished would open up and swallow him whole. Not that he was embarrassed about his relationship with Mitsuki. On the contrary, what Isaac had with her was everything he’d wanted but thought was out of reach—warmth, acceptance, understanding. He just wished particular aspects of that warmth weren’t so noticeable to others.
“Sometimes you have to fight your own battles.” Napoleon lowered his wooden sword, signaling to his students that the lesson was temporarily suspended. He walked over to Isaac and ruffled his hair. “However, I see the enemy has you greatly outnumbered.”
Isaac groaned as the children laughed. He unfurled his body and was about to resume his lecture until he looked at his watch and jumped up. “It’s way past time. I have to go!” Isaac made his excuses and left quickly, promising to pick up the lesson next week.
As Isaac trotted away, William sought Napoleon. “Did we do a good job?”
“You did wonderfully, mon petit soldat!” Napoleon beamed at William and the other children. “You all did. Professor Isaac doesn’t suspect a thing. You kept him here an extra 30 minutes. That should give Mitsuki enough time.”
“Is Professor Isaac ok?” Nicole worried her lip. “His neck looked awfully—“
“Mitsuki will take care of him.” The corner of Napoleon’s mouth quirked. “Rest assured.”
Isaac raced back to the Mansion. As he made his way past the front door and towards his room, he thanked his lucky stars he encountered no one to bother him.
“Newt old boy!”
Never mind. Arthur strolled by Isaac, his tongue wagging. Arthur’s eyes trained on Isaac’s furtive movements—Isaac didn’t bother to hide his desire to leave as he continued walking.
“You’re not the only one who’s eager! I just passed by your room. Our Mitsuki awaits with anticipation.”
“Not OUR. That’s enough from you.” Irritated, Isaac brushed past Arthur.
“Yes, yes, you should make haste. She’s quite in a precarious position. All for your sake, old chap.” Arthur’s eyes sparkled.
There were endless possibilities to what Arthur could mean. Isaac tugged a lock of hair and moved faster, not bothering to reply back.
“Oh, you’ll appreciate it Newt.” Arthur’s chuckled quietly as he watched Isaac hurry down the hall.
When Isaac finally made his way to his room, the first thing he noticed was the partially open door. He opened it fully before closing it quietly behind him. What he saw next made his mouth drop in complete surprise.
In the center of the room was Mitsuki, standing on an A-frame ladder. Her eyes concentrated intently as she took a paint brush and pressed the brush’s tip repeatedly on the ceiling. Though she clearly dipped the brush in a nearby paint-can, no visible paint appeared on the ceiling.
She wore one of Isaac’s old shirts he thought he’d thrown out—a sort of makeshift paint smock. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and the top two buttons were undone, unveiling a trail of love marks from her neck towards her chest. The shirttails barely covered her hips and upper thighs.
“There! It’s finished!” Mitsuki clapped her hands in satisfaction. Her joy was so apparent that it made Isaac want to bask in it for as long as possible. Mitsuki began to make her way down the ladder when she suddenly slipped.
“Waaaaah!”
Mitsuki closed her eyes and braced for impact. Instead, she found herself in the arms of her very anxious lover. Isaac stumbled awkwardly and tumbled with her on the bed. The ladder and paint-can somehow remained upright.
“What in God’s name were you doing?!” Isaac’s voice was breathless as his hands roamed Mitsuki’s body, checking for injuries. Both laid on the bed on their sides in a heap of tangled limbs. Arthur’s previous comments echoed in his brain. “And wearing JUST this with the door open!”
“I was finishing your gift.” Mitsuki pouted, mildly embarrassed. “The door was PARTIALLY open due to paint fumes. I only needed 5 minutes more to surprise you completely.”
“I’m ALREADY surprised! Why must you always risk yourself?” Having found no obvious injuries, Isaac pulled Mitsuki towards him, huffing against her shoulder.
“I always seem to worry you.” Mitsuki carded her fingers through his hair to soothe his nerves. “It’s not my intent, I promise.”
Isaac pulled back slightly, his eyes roaming up and down her body. “Why are you wearing this?” There were plenty of paint smocks available that Vincent could have easily provided.
“It’s yours.” Mitsuki looked at Isaac with heat. “I wanted to feel you. It even smells of spring and black tea like you do.” Mitsuki curled a finger under the collar of the shirt Isaac wore and loosened his tie. With a smile, Mitsuki added. “Although, I much prefer you in the flesh.”
Isaac’s heart leapt at her words. “You, you really are so—“ The remainder of his words were forgotten as her lips pressed against his, a rush of warmth and pleasure flooding them both. Isaac’s mouth quickly poured everything into these kisses, open and eager. Mitsuki’s moans electrified him, her mewls driving him to seek more. He groaned against her lips as she hooked his hip with one of her legs to pull him closer. Mitsuki’s hand began to traverse down his chest towards the waistband of his pants when she noticed a bulge…not where she expected it.
“Isaac?” Mitsuki gasped in surprise—both at Isaac’s fingers as they crept up her thighs and at her discovery. “Is there something in your pocket?”
Pink dusted Isaac’s cheeks. A muffled groan left his lips at Mitsuki’s knowing chuckle. He lifted her wandering hand and laughed softly.
“If you want to be reminded of me, perhaps you should wear this instead.” Fishing inside his pocket, Isaac placed a watch on Mitsuki’s left wrist.
The watch’s band was leather, a dark brown reminding Mitsuki of the bark of cherry blossom trees. The clock face was pure white, with a series of three raised white dots in the middle that looked similar to the buttons of Mitsuki’s everyday blouse. The hour and minute hands were the same tint as Isaac’s eyes. Isaac nuzzled his cheek against her palm before kissing it gently.
“You are the first Mitsuki—first I’ve ever laughed with, first I’ve felt at peace with, first I’ve felt possessive of. My life revolves around you. I cannot imagine a life without your presence. So please—share what time you have with me.”
Mitsuki interlaced her fingers with his, kissing each in turn. “I told you once before and I’ll say it again. My time? You can have all of it.”
Isaac buried his face in the crook of her neck, overwhelmed by her response. A shuttering sigh escaped his lips as he left a trail of kisses across her neck and shoulders.
“Wait, wait! Before we continue, let me show you my gift. Keep lying down, but look at the ceiling.” Mitsuki got up from the bed; Isaac reached out towards her, missing her touch. “Don’t worry, I’m staying in this room. Just…please close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”
Isaac complied, quietly baffled but very curious. He heard window curtains moving and lights being adjusted. The bed sheets crumpled around him as he felt Mitsuki lay next to him.
“OK, open them.”
Upon opening his eyes, Isaac was stunned. The room was now encased in mostly shadow, but the ceiling was littered with tons of bright illuminated dots. In the darkened room, the ceiling appeared to be an inky black sky, surrounded by the heavens.
Mitsuki turned to Isaac. Though the room was dark, she could see Isaac’s outline and features up close. “With your recent university position, helping Napoleon with his students, and your own independent research, we haven’t had time to stargaze like we used to.”
“So,” Mitsuki tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I decided to bring the stars to us.”
Isaac stared at the ceiling in wonder. “How did you do this?”
“Leonardo created the paint. It looks nearly invisible in the daylight. But in the dark, you see this.”
“I can’t believe you—“ Mitsuki placed a finger on his lips.
“You’re Isaac. And you’re worth it.”
Her words sunk in, enveloping him in a winding warmth. He repositioned his body, his forehead resting on hers. “One thing about stars—however pretty, they remain far away. But you—you’re always here.”
Mitsuki squeezed Isaac’s hand, hearing his unspoken words. “You aren’t alone. Not anymore. I’m here to watch clouds, stars, constellations—anything that brings you joy.”
With a soft, boyish smirk, Isaac cupped her face before leaning closer. “Then let me watch you instead.”
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aquagirl1978 · 19 days
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it's not easy to forget your love is a biter; the marks left on your flesh are a daily reminder.
by day, you hide the evidence best you can. dresses with high collars and covered shoulders are worn frequently; even if not always your preferred style, you tell yourself a queen must dress modestly. 
don't think this goes unnoticed by the king. the bully that he is torments you when alone in his private library. while seated in his lap reading, he grabs your wrist; bringing it to his lips, he smiles, pleased he has found a new place to leave a mark on unblemished flesh.
at night, you rid yourself of your clothing, your marks freely exposed to your love. he covers your body roughly with his hands, his fingers finding each and every mark he has left as a present onto your skin, his mind recalling the nights he left each mark he traces with his fingertip. 
when he finds a faded mark, he replaces it with a fresh one, the pleasure of his biting kisses upon your skin unreal. he later laps his mark, soothing your now sensitive skin. this is all just another way he expresses his love for you, another reminder that you belong to him.
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violettduchess · 10 months
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A/N: Better late than never! Not a request, just my imagining what these lovely suitors would be like with an infant that wakes up crying 💜
CW: babies, breastfeeding
Suitors x female reader
WC: 2045
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A cry rings out through a peaceful summer night at the palace.
It is small, but powerful.
And very, very insistent. 
Leon
A light sleeper by nature, he gets up, murmuring for you to try and keep sleeping when he notices you stirring too. "I'll see what I can do for the little peanut." He crosses the room to the white bassinet with its pale pink ruffles, a gift from Uncle Yves. Inside his infant daughter is fussing. Tiny fists are clenching and unclenching as her small head turns fitfully left and right.
“Ah, c’mere sweetheart,” he says, voice still rough with sleep as he lifts her gently, laying her against his bare shoulder. One large hand rubs her back as he walks the length of the room, her tiny cheek warm as a spot of sunshine against his shoulder.
“I can take her–” you start to say as you push yourself upright in the bed, but he shakes his head, holding up a finger.
“I think we’ve got this handled, love. Take a look.” He walks over to your side of the bed, his hand still gently stroking the baby’s back. Her tiny head with its halo of black hair rests against him and is still. Not able to see her face, he turns sideways, giving you the sweetest view of your handsome, bare-chested husband holding your daughter close, her small face now relaxed again in sleep. Her father’s warmth was enough to solve whatever problem had woken her and she's drifted back off to the soft, hazy world of baby dreams.
You smile, feeling the way your heart expands, a paradox: never has it been so full of love and yet so very, very light.
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Clavis
He wakes up immediately at his son’s first cry and is out of bed before the sound can even penetrate your deep sleep. He knows how often you get up, how often you are the only one who can satisfy your son’s voracious demands for food but Clavis has told himself that the little tyrant's demands that don't require milk, he will take care of himself. You, his dearest of dears, need as much sleep as you can get.
He bends down over the baby’s cradle, brushing back the boy’s angel-soft hair, the same twilight shade as his. “So noisy at such a late hour. My my. This won’t do.” Carefully he scoops up his son, adjusting his pajamas and then his hand freezes. 
“Oh dear. I think I see why you’re so upset, little Lelouch.” The baby continues to whimper, little cries that, although Clavis knows they are harmless, still feel like they are stabbing right into the center of his tender heart. He never wants to hear his child in distress.
Reaching up, he turns the small knob on the lamp above the dresser where you have all of the baby’s changing things neatly laid out. His son squeaks out little sounds of agitation. “I’ve got you, don't worry. Papa's got you, always and--my goodness, how does such a tiny body produce this much liquid?” He talks, his words soft and almost sing-song as he changes his son’s pajamas and diaper with practiced hands. The baby, now removed of his damp clothing, stops whimpering, instead blinking up at his father with wide golden eyes.
“There has got to be a better solution to this than soaking all those linen diapers,” he mutters as he carefully slides chubby legs into fresh little stockings. “I bet I could invent something that might absorb all your perfectly healthy but still oh so stinky messes much better.” The baby kicks his legs and waves his arms, as if cheering in agreement and Clavis laughs softly, lifting his son back into his arms. “You agree with Papa? You think I can do that? Of course you do.” 
He walks back to the cradle, turning his head to place a gentle kiss to the apple of his son’s plump cheek. He could hold him in his arms forever, never tiring of that infant smell, that the feel of his warm little body so trusting and sweet against him. 
He pauses in front of the cradle. “Hmm….I know. Let’s go on a little nocturnal journey down the hall while talking through some chemicals and their rates of absorption. I bet you’ll be a perfectly delightful assistant.”
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Jin
Both you and Jin yawn, sleepily rubbing at your eyes as your daughter’s cries fill the bedroom. One glance at the time and he sighs, reaching over to tenderly touch your cheek with the back of his hand. “She’s on time, our little one,” he murmurs in his deep voice even as you are pushing yourself up with one hand and already unbuttoning your nightgown with the other.
He gets up, walking over to the crib where the infant is crying, her shock of brownish hair standing up in every direction. “Mommy’s already getting ready for you, princess,” he says as he reaches down and lifts her. She’s so small in his large hands. He walks back to bed, murmuring soft little shushing noises, and then carefully hands her over to you. You help her find the right position and then sigh when she begins to nurse, her cries immediately quieted. Glancing up, you find Jin sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you both with a curiously thoughtful expression.
“What is it?” 
He watches you a moment, then shakes his head, a sheepish grin on his handsome face. “It’s just….I’ve always liked that particular body part.” You snort, running your fingers over your baby’s fine chestnut hair. “That’s an understatement.” He chuckles, shrugging before continuing his thought. “Yeah well…it’s just…I think….now that I see ‘em being used to feed our little girl….I think….I think I actually like them MORE now.”
You can’t help it. You start giggling, a burst of yellow happiness that colors the gray exhaustion of new parenthood. “God, I love you.” You crook a finger at him and he matches your smile as he climbs back into bed and leans close to you. You place a kiss on his chiseled cheekbone, warm and affectionate. A sigh born of tender happiness is his answer, along with the words, “I love you too.”
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Silvio
“Stay in bed. I’ll go.” He’s up, striding across the bedroom to the bassinet before you can even finish rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Aye, piccolino, sono qui.” He reaches down, running a hand over the restless infant's back. But no soothing words or pets seem to be enough. He lifts the baby carefully, still in that new stage of fatherhood where a baby feels like the most fragile thing in the world.
You watch your two pale-haired men, frowning slightly as the littlest one continues to fuss. "He can't be hungry again, can he?" You have just finished feeding him until he fell into a milk-drunk state of blissful sleep, his body heavy and warm, not thirty minutes ago. He had been sleeping so soundly that hope for more than an hour of sleep at one time had risen in your heart.
Silvio lays the baby against his shoulder. His hands are bare, with only his simple gold wedding band left on his elegant fingers. Every other piece of jewelry has been removed for the sake of his child. Necklaces would get in the way of his son sleeping on his bare chest. Earrings might hinder his ability to press his cheek against his fine, moonlight-spun hair. 
"Ain't no baby in the world that could eat again after all that milk." He inclines his head towards his son. "Listen to you, cucciolo. All that growling." He rubs his small back in soothing circles. And then the most extraordinary thing happens: the tiny prince lets out the most raucous of burps. The kind that sends a quake through his little body.
"Dio mio," his father mutters, blue eyes wide as he looks down at his son. You grin through your sleepiness. "Here I thought only his grumbling was like his father." 
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Gilbert
His daughter's cry shatters the night's peace in an instant. Both you and Gilbert wake up immediately, but he's quicker than you, throwing back the covers and crossing the room to the cradle carved from darkest walnut. 
He spots the problem immediately. At some point during the night she had kicked her blanket to the end of her cradle where it lies bunched up and useless. Her socks are nowhere to be seen, a display of her magician-like talent for making them disappear. He reaches down and sure enough, her tiny feet are like ice blocks.
"Always the same thing with you, oder Mäuschen? What have socks ever done to you?” He lifts her from her cradle, tucking her securely into the crook of his arm as he makes his way over to the dresser that has been designated hers. You reach across the bed, turning on the lamp that sits on his nightstand and he glances at you over his shoulder, eyes bright with appreciation. “Thank you, Häschen.” Now he can see better, his fingers trailing over the tiny rolled up socks and tights. When the baby makes a small cooing sound, he stops. “These?” He pulls out a pair of soft black tights embroidered with mini red roses. “Ahh a good choice.”
He hums as he walks over to the changing table, the sound soft and soothing, the gentle rush of a river through the night. As he carefully changes her diaper and then works her plump little legs into the tights, humming gives way to him singing. "Der Mond ist aufgegangen…"
She is curious, all thoughts of crying gone, watchful crimson eyes blinking as she keeps her gaze on the source of the calming sound. “Fertig,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the soles of her now covered feet. "All done." Then he lifts her, carrying her not to her cradle but back to the bed. He slides in, leaning back against the support of the many bed pillows, settling in. Her eyes are already closing as she snuggles in close against his chest.
You watch them both with a smile as tender as the moon’s joy in the stars.
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Chevalier
The man who took an army to wake up is on his feet in an instant. He is silent as he crosses the room, leaning down to check on his crying daughter, her pale head of blond hair gleaming silver in the moonlight. He carefully lifts her from the bassinet, marveling in the back of his mind at how very small she is.
He glances back to the bed where you are still deeply asleep. “Your mother is exhausted from all your demands.” He wouldn’t usually condone speaking to a baby as they are incapable of understanding but he’s found that she calms down when she hears his voice. Even now her whimpering stops, her tiny cheek resting on the soft linen of his shirt. She’s gone very still, as if truly listening to his words. “You’ve eaten twenty minutes ago. We can eliminate hunger. Your bottom is….” He pats it gently, checking. “...perfectly dry. The room is neither too hot nor too cold.” He wraps his hands around her feet. She’s still wearing her white socks trimmed with yellow lace. “Your feet are adequately covered.” He tips his head back to look down at her. Her perfect, tiny fingers are curled into his shirt and her body feels heavy, drowsy with sleep. 
She attempts to turn her head, burying her face in his shoulder and he reaches up, helping her, running his strong fingers over her downy hair when she has found a position that is comfortable. Chevalier walks over to the white wooden rocking chair you have positioned by the window and lowers himself into it.
“You simply wanted to be held, didn’t you?” A heavy, stuttering sigh leaves her small body, almost as if in answer to her father’s line of questioning. He cups her head with his hand, tilting his face down to place a soft kiss on her hair. “I’ll comply, little one.” He settles into the chair and begins rocking gently back and forth, father and daughter, bathed in loving, silvery moonlight.
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Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart
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xxsycamore · 17 days
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❝ 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ❞
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╰┈➤ 💜 Clavis seduces Emma in a bunny suit so she can finally pop his cherry.
Clavis Lelouch x Emma • rating: E (MDNI) • tags:Bunny Suits; Bunny Ears; bunny tail; that one Clavis card; Virginity; Virginity Kink; Making Out; Sloppy Makeouts; Dom!Emma; sub!Clavis; Femdom; Neck Kissing; Biting; Groping; Premature Ejaculation; Coming Untouched; Coming In Pants • wordcount: 1,495 • masterlist
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"Welcome home, Emma. I've been waiting for you."
The wave of shock that washes over Emma's being brings forth an unmistakable familiar and dangerous warmth that traverses from her cheeks straight down to her nethers. It doesn't leave her time to breathe, to think, yet the words still manage their way out.
"Clavis, what are you wearing?"
Hand still on the doorknob, Emma's eyes are cast down low, at the figure kneeling on the floor. Clavis' tall, slender form is clad in a tight suit, squeezing his flesh in all the right places. Clavis lowers his head as if desperate to rub himself all over her legs, showing the joy of a domesticated animal welcoming his owner home, and in the act, a pair of long faux ears brush past Emma's frame. From the position he's taking on the floor, she can see the star of the outfit - an obscene protrusion on his rear, white and fluffy. A bunny tail.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm your little bunny in heat. I'm beginning you to finally, finally take me."
Emma's blood runs hot, fingers curling inwards until she can feel her own nails dig into the inside of her palm. It emphasizes their positions on the spot. She has claws, and Clavis is soft, pliant, vulnerable, practically begging. She can do whatever she wishes with him.
His methods of seduction are an incitement to riot, as she barely needs stimulus to desire him. Yet Clavis puts on so much effort for her. He moves his body alluringly in a way he's never done for anyone; he gazes at her in a way he's never gazed at anyone. The littlest things about him are enough, all those things he doesn't even suspect are erotic, so how is she to endure the current situation?
"On the bed, Clavis."
The man on his knees smirks as he obediently bows, turning around to comply with her wish. Emma's eyes follow his rump. Of course they do. He gives her so much to look at.
She'll have to give that tail a little squeeze later.
Emma follows him to the bed and climbs up, signaling for Clavis to come closer. He sits on the place between her legs, leaning slightly backward as he props himself up with a hand, chest puffed out. Ready for her next move.
Emma reaches two greedy hands to grasp his waist, and she pulls him in closer, letting his scent engulf her completely. Has he always had such a perfect waist? It's not tiny enough for her hands to properly enwrap it, but rather just enough to desperately try to tighten her hands enough to fit more.
"Kiss me, Clavis. You know how to do this much, right?"
Way better than a virgin does, she refrains from adding, for the sake of her own composure. They've made out before, but never took the next step. The amount of heated kisses they'd shared had been enough to see Clavis become bold and risqué in his need for more, often kissing her breathless. The bulge in his pants has always been alluring but it's never been quite the time or the place. Partly because Clavis has a penchant for being at the wrong time, in the wrong place.
His lips are now planted against her own, and he already begins with his game. No time for lovey-dovey kisses, even if they're to his liking as well. His tongue slips between Emma's parted lips, making his way in, provoking her. It turns her rasped breaths into moans, and she doesn't mind it even this early on. If she's being vocal, he'll start being vocal too. For the time being, she lets him lead the kiss. It's almost like he shows what he wants to be done to him in return, she thinks. Although he's a gentleman through and through. His demonstration simply can't be as true to his desires.
He withdraws, and keeps his mouth open, tongue poking out. Emma doesn't wait for the thin thread of saliva between them to break; as long as he took a breath he should be fine for continuing where they left. It's like they never stopped the kiss that way.
She takes it easy on him when she takes the lead, dragging her tongue on his plump lower lip as if asking for entrance. It humiliates him a little, as if they're still not past this stage, as if he needs that - but strangely it's only lust he feels as a response. He answers properly to the gesture, obediently parting his lips to be penetrated, and Emma slips her tongue in.
"Nngn…"
Emma takes notes of all the little things that push Clavis' buttons; like curving her tongue to caress the underside of his tongue, or withdrawing to scare him with a too-early end of the kiss. She wants to learn more and more about how he wants to be kissed, touched, loved.
"Haah… haha.. You can get more handy than that, Emma."
He needn't say more. Emma's hands move from where they've held Clavis' waist, leaving unmistakable warmth behind as their imprints, and they travel up his back. Emma traverses it with hands alone from one side to the other, measuring him up, taking note of the hard places of him just like the soft ones, following the curves of his shoulders, the dips of the junction between them and his neck. It's an endearing gesture, until she cards her fingers through the short purple hair on the back of his head, upwards, taking both of his sleek black bunny ears in her grasp.
He doesn't feel the tug in the way an actual appendix would, of course, but his groan is sincere, and the action successfully makes him tilt his head back to reveal his slender neck.
Emma leaches on it, her glistening lips wetting his neck as she sinks her teeth into the column of his neck. He's so weak to neck kisses, she can practically feel him get hard where they're pressed body to body.
Leaving only one hand on his head, she lets the other one get playful and travel back down. The moment she's past the leather of his belt, Clavis' body rocks forward, and his rear lifts off the bed. He's on his knees now, between Emma's parted legs, arms snaking around her shoulders for support as she keeps kissing and nibbling at his neck.
With his behind now in full reach, Emma gets bolder, squeezing and groping his rump, the back of his thighs, and finally his fluffy white tail. It makes a little wicked smile bloom on her face. She lacks all of those adorable assets, yet Clavis sees her as his little bunny. She understands now, both the endearment and the lust behind it. Though it's a little scary that they've both become like that - with carnivores and prey it's quite linear. They devour until they're sated. With rabbits, well, Emma knows what people say about rabbits.
Clavis moans now, open and vulgar, and each vocalization of his arousal makes his Adam's apple move where Emma can feel it under her lips. It makes her see hot-white behind her eyelids that fell closed amidst it all. She wants to be locked in that tango forever; to see how Clavis gets worse and worse, until they finally cross that line, to take and take from each other until there's nothing they haven't done to the other.
"Ahh-- Nghh!" Clavis' head trashes, and it makes Emma's sucking at his skin a little difficult as her lips begin to miss their target. She makes him stay in place again, nails biting on the fabric of his suit, pressing him closer to her. His moans become hopeless now, and she feels proud of herself, just a tad curious which part made him like this. Clavis riots in his flesh restraints again, though he can easily remove himself from her grasp with his strength alone. She lets him have his breath, letting go and catching a glimpse of his face that she began to miss.
He's a mess, cheeks flushed red, hair disheveled, and faux ears askew and flopping to the side. Although he pants heavily, he finds it in himself to smirk. It's a rather mischievous one; not the kind to signal achievement of his goal but rather that he's done something forbidden.
"Nnnh…You handled your bunny a little too rough and he creamed his pants."
Eyes widening, Emma feels a fresh wave of arousal wash over her as the words sink in. She's stunned, a little guilty, a little curious… but as her gaze shamelessly shifts to his trousers to see a little wet spot on the front of his still-tented crouch, she's sure she's never seen anything more erotic in her life. She wets her lips to speak up.
"Looks like my little bunny in heat will stay a virgin for a little longer."
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ikesimpleton · 6 days
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Two of my favorite group dialogues of all time all in one chapter of an event. Who is biggest man baby, Clavis or Rio?
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xbalayage · 7 months
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Last Night
Silvio/Reader Angst WC: 1,107 A/N: From the perspective that Silvio didn't change from the initial way we were introduced to him as but still fell for the charm he held anyways. It's tame while he's sober but during nights of drinking when things are supposed to be fun, he's drank way too much and it comes out with a force. Inspired by a song I listened too - pretty sure anyone could potentially guess what song it is.
[ - - . - - - . - - - . - - ]
Frivolous parties were what this kingdom was known for; constant music, extravagant sights, the liveliness was unparalleled to any other kingdom in comparison. But when they swam in untold fortunes and had a flourishing economy of frequent trade, why wouldn't they? Last night was no different - they'd spend it together under the glittering lights of a balcony, indulging in the finest wines and liqueur but food went untouched as she stared blankly off into the distance, no longer even listening to the words coming from his mouth. He was feeling it a bit more than her and that was saying something for once.
Incredibly insensitive and rude comments escaped past in his drunken haze all while wrapped around his smug smile, not even realizing the damage he'd be creating. She told him time and time again, yet she kept her rage to herself, focusing on the dazzling glow of lights with her hand cupping to support her chin. Radiant eyes refused to look his way. Now wasn't the time to stem out in that kind of talk, but she couldn't help the underlying resentment that whispered past her lips. "--I wish you were somebody I never met."
He heard it, of course he did. But, surely, she didn't mean that. Just like tonight's affairs, it was just the alcohol talking. She loved him. It was just one mistake he'd apologize for and wouldn't do again.
Right?
Just earlier that night when the mood was right, they both had their cheeks flushed with the passion they shared as she gripped the sea of sheets to their bed, crying out his name that he drank up like the sweetest song he's ever heard. Settled in what felt like miles of robes, she sat in his lap, fingers curved into his hair as they gaze lovingly into each others eyes. No one would know the wiser that they'd ever fight. Splitting a drink shared between kiss bruised lips, promising futures they'd hope to keep and sharing secrets of life that'd been left unspoken.
How did it come to this?
Their regular banter now turned into a verbal sword fight of who's right or wrong, positioning their sharpened words into the most vulnerable spots to hurt. He yells over her, she yells over him - neither of them were listening. The verbal warfare leaves a lasting scar forever etched into her mind, while he simply forgets like it never happened; like the wine wasn't laced with poison and shifted their tongues into pitchforks of hate. She couldn't bare another night like tonight.
Tonight was no different from other nights - she just refused to indulge in a fruitless endeavor after fighting. He's completely hammered and not listening to reason, or paying attention to those nasty comments he keeps spewing. Rio was right, and she should've listened sooner but that damn heart of hers always tried to see it through. 'Just let him go. He'll grow a pair and see how much of an asshole he's been once you finally leave him' his words rang fresh in her mind, trying to blink away the tears by the thought of the truth.
Silence beat in her ears for a few moments before her gaze turned back to him, curious to know why everything all at once seemed to stop. Like time had frozen in the moment to give her a reprieve to run. Her eyes met a passed out figure, snoring as he laid lazily in his chair. The urge to punch him square in the jaw but kiss his stupid face at the same time was too strong - she had to shake her head and stand, heading inside to pack her most treasured things.
Finally, she had enough. This would be the last night she would endure this. But she couldn't leave, not like this. Scrambling to find a pen and paper, her letter stated words intertwined with both love and sorrow; when their love was great, it was great - but when it was bad, it was like inhaling water with a ball and chain strapped around the ankle, pulling her down to the depths of her death. She undone the collar around her neck that she both hated and adored for multiple reasons, looking over once more at his slumped body on the balcony before resting the item with the note on the bed covers.
And almost as if he'd been listening in, Rio was at the door once she opened it, staring deep into her tear stained eyes that ran past her cheeks. His eyes gazed down at her luggage in hand before reaching her face again. No words were spoken, just a simple nob and Rio knew. He knew it was finally time. Her eyes turned once more for the last time at the man she loved the most, her heart ached - but she had to put a mental foot down; she couldn't change a man that didn't want to change. Or didn't know how to, even with her gentle guidance.
With her resolve strong, she slammed the door as she left, her resentment staying to linger in the absent room. He was too out of it, a simple action like that wouldn't have awoken him. She left, to never return.
Morning broke as he woke up, his body sore and mind swirling with no recollection of the previous night. He found himself on the floor, chair sprawled off to the side, empty wine bottle littered the floor. He lifted his head to find the food untouched on the table. His first thought was her, but he couldn't find her anywhere even when calling her name. As he got up slowly, he scratched at his head and groaned. Finally able to stand on his feet, he noticed a note and her collar placed on the bedding.
He read the note with a heavy heart; had he gone too far last night? What had he done? What had he said for her to have to write a note, leave behind the present he got her and vacate all her belongings as well, to leave in the middle of the night? For her to finally leave him. He gritted his teeth and held the note close to his chest, his other hand thumbing the beautiful collar that glittered in the sunlight. His eyebrows furrowed as hurt ridden eyes stare at the rising sun longingly.
Something told him that this wasn't the end of them, he held onto the hope that she'd forgive him. That she would come back to his side. This couldn't be. There's no way... that this was their last night.
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