Hi all! Welcome to my art blog. Mostly fanart with the occasional OC.
✨This blog is 18+ only. Minors will be blocked.✨
I’ve posted a lot of ikemen fanart and plan to continue to do so. Just gonna slowly start adding in other fandoms and more original art. Feel free to shoot me a request some time!
Currently working on a masterlist, but tags to check out:
Thank you @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies for organizing this lovely event ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡
My giftee is Tia - @missgirlicous, so here's a little drawing of your OC - Sanya. I took very personally what you said about possible AU where Sanya is with both Seth and Alice XD. So, here they are, enjoying a date in the park. I hope you like it (￣▽￣*)ゞ
Characters: Sanya Lambert x Seth Hyde x Alice
Trope: Slice of life - A date in the park
(once again I'm reminded I could use a good scanner 🙈)
Here is my gift for dear @shonenkun309! I hope you enjoy my gift for you about Vernard! I went after a fluffy one shot with Vernard and reader.
This event was hosted by @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies
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𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓣
Ship: Vernard x reader
Themes: Fluffy, pre-relationship, he is slowly falling in love
Warnings: None
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The night has fallen upon Rhodolite, as its residents were sleeping. Well, maybe not all..
You were turning around in your bed, not even being able to find the most comfortable position to sleep in. You have been trying to sleep now for three hours, but nothing has worked out for you.
You don't know what the cause is, but just lying in bed is boring. So, you decided to take a walk through the castle, hoping a reading session in the library will tire you out enough. The bright moon is shining through the windows, wrapping you halfway in its light.
You soon reached the library, but you were surprised to see the door being slightly open. In the middle of the room, there sat a man in his late twenties at a table. The light on his table was on -not very bright though- and he was reading a book.
His emerald green eyes were gazing down onto the book he was reading. This man was so focused on reading, it felt like he was tuning out the world around him.
You immediately recognized him. It was Vernard. You were confused though, because why was he here? Couldn't he sleep either? Or does he just enjoy reading at night?
A surge of hesitation filled your body. Should you call out to him? Should you ask what he is doing here? Maybe he wants his own peace right now?
But without realizing it, you did. You called out to him. “Vernard?” Due to time of the day, your voice was automatically quiet. But it was loud enough for him to hear you.
Vernard looked up from his book and his gaze wandered to you, who was still standing at the door. He seemed surprised… Probably because he didn't expect someone to walk into the library.
“Shouldn't you be in bed?" He asked, his gaze wandering back to the book in his hands.
“I could say the same to you." You replied, approaching him to where he was sitting.
“But to answer your question, I couldn't sleep well… So I decided to go to the library to read a book.” You replied to him, trying to see what he was reading. “And you are here why, Vernard?"
“I just simply like reading at night.” Was all he said, before returning back to his book.
His short and dry sentences made you think he wants to be alone. Maybe it is better if you leave. “I’m sorry.. If you want, I can leave.” You stood up and were about to leave, but his next words surprised you.
“No… You can stay. I don't mind…” His words have surprised you. He actually wants you to stay? Is he just being kind? No.. He sounds sincere...
You stayed seated onto your chair. And so, around three minutes have already passed…
The atmosphere was a bit awkward. Neither of you two were speaking. He was focused on his book, while you were staring down onto your hands.
You finally decided to break the silence.
“The moon is very beautiful, right? It seems nice reading a book, while the moon shines through the windows.” You commented, looking at the windows with a smile. The moon was shining onto Vernard, lightning his hair with its enchanting light up.
Vernard looked again up from his book at her. “It is nice…” He added in a short sentence.
“... You also like books. Why not get one too?”
You thought that this is a good idea, afrer all, it is the same reason why you even walked to the library. Mayhaps you forgot about the book, since Vernard distracted you. You left your seat and went to the shelves, to take one of your preferred books.
You sat back down next to him, opening your book and starting to read.
The silence between you two was more comfortable this time. It wasn't like any of you were trying to force a conversation or forcing yourself to be quiet. You two were simply enjoying reading in silence.
You were so invested in your book, you didn't even notice Vernard sometimes looking up from his book to look at you. He also saw how the moon lightened onto your beautiful hair. He saw how focused your eyes were on the book in your hands.
Vernard couldn't explain it… But something about you was enchanting for him. You just… Looked so beautiful in that very much moment… And it wasn't just because of the moon. No, very deep down, he knew it wasn't just because of the moon.
After Vernard finished yet another chapter, he closed the book and stood up. “I’m going back to my room.” He announced, turning to the door.
“Oh, I’m going with you! I finally feel tired.." You yawned and repeated the same movements as him.
“Let me accompany you to your room.” Vernard suggested, walking out of the library with you. You two weren't talking much, but it wasn't awkward again. It was the nice silence from before again.
Vernard saw your tired expression. When he was sure you wouldn't notice it, he had a slight smile on his face as he admired your adorable expression. It wasn't clear, whether Vernard was already accepting the fact he was falling in love with you. But perhaps one day, he will admit it.
Thank you @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies for hosting the gift exchange! I love seeing everyone’s work and I’m always for gifting art and writing to others :33
My giftee this time is @evil-quartett !! The moment I saw “caught in the rain” as your S-tier trope I know that’s what I’d like to go for. I love a good taking-shelter-from-the-rain-and-laughing-at-how-silly-they-look moment, and I want to lean more into Lacrimă’s sweeter and more teasing side! I hope you like it 💖💖
The library was supposed to be empty at this hour.
That was precisely why you had chosen it.
The candles had burned low by the time you slipped inside, pulling the heavy oak door shut behind you with both hands so it would not make a sound. The smell of old paper and woodsmoke wrapped around you immediately — familiar, almost kind — and for a moment you simply stood there in the dim amber light, pressing your back against the door and breathing. Just breathing. Trying to remember how.
It had been a small thing, in the grand scheme of a royal court where small things were weaponized into art. A duchess, her smile too sweet and her words too precise, leaning close during supper to murmur exactly the right observation about exactly the right wound. *You don't belong here, do you? It must be exhausting, pretending otherwise.* And then she had laughed — a light, pretty laugh — and turned away, as though she had said nothing at all.
You had smiled. You had kept eating. You had excused yourself at the first polite opportunity, walked calmly down three corridors, and then the calm had run out entirely.
You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth now, eyes burning. You're being ridiculous, you told yourself firmly, the way you had been telling yourself for the past twenty minutes, and it was working about as well as it had been working for the past twenty minutes.
The library blurred softly at the edges.
"If you are going to weep, at least do it somewhere that doesn't echo."
You spun around.
Chevalier sat in the high-backed chair nearest the far window — your eyes had simply slid over him in the dark — a book open across one knee, his pale gaze lifting from the page with the mild irritation of someone whose evening had been interrupted. He looked as immaculate as ever. Platinum hair. Sharp jaw. The particular expression he wore when he was cataloguing you, which was most of the time.
"I — " Your voice came out wrong. You stopped. Tried again. "I didn't know you were here."
"Evidently." He turned a page. "You made quite an entrance for someone attempting to be invisible."
"I'll go." You were already reaching for the door handle. Your throat ached with the effort of keeping your voice level. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude on your —"
"I didn't tell you to leave."
You paused.
Chevalier had not looked up from his book. The firelight caught the edge of his profile, the downward cast of his pale lashes, the faint tension in his jaw that you had only learned to read after months of careful study. He turned another page, deliberate and unhurried, and said nothing further.
Which was, you had come to understand, his way of saying stay.
You let go of the door handle.
The silence stretched between you, not uncomfortably — or at least, not in the way silence usually was. You crossed to the window seat on the opposite side of the room, tucking yourself into the corner of it, pulling your knees up slightly and staring out at the dark garden below. The moon was high and cold. The tears that had been threatening to spill simply sat behind your eyes like unwanted guests who had nowhere else to go.
Several minutes passed.
"Who was it."
It wasn't a question, precisely. His voice was even, almost disinterested, the way it always was when he was paying the most attention.
You glanced at him. He still had not looked up from the book.
"It doesn't matter," you said quietly.
"That is not an answer."
"Chevalier —"
"You came into my library at half past ten with red eyes and the particular expression of someone who has been told something they didn't know how to refute." He finally turned to look at you then, and the steadiness of his gaze was almost unbearable. "So. Who was it."
You looked back at the window. The garden. The cold, indifferent moon.
"The Duchess of Varell," you admitted, after a moment. "She said —" You stopped. The words felt embarrassing to repeat out loud, here, in front of him. "It was nothing important. She's right, anyway. It's nothing I hadn't already thought myself."
A pause.
"What did she say."
"That I don't belong here." You laughed quietly, and it came out slightly broken at the edges. "Hardly an original observation. I know that. I *know* that, I just —" You pressed your fingers to your mouth briefly. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. Which is absurd. I don't even particularly like the court."
The fire crackled. Somewhere in the walls, the old palace settled with a low groan.
Then there was the soft sound of a book being closed.
You looked up, startled. Chevalier had set it aside on the arm of the chair — carefully, with the kind of precision he applied to everything — and was watching you with an expression you didn't immediately have a name for. Not soft. It was never soft, with him. But there was something in the set of his mouth, in the quality of his attention, that was different from the usual cold appraisal.
"Come here," he said.
You stared at him.
"Chevalier, I'm fine —"
"You are visibly not fine, and you have been sitting across the room being not fine for the better part of ten minutes." He held your gaze with the particular kind of calm that brooked no argument. "I won't repeat myself."
Slowly, you uncurled from the window seat.
You crossed the room and stood before him, feeling somewhat ridiculous, and he reached out without ceremony and took your wrist, pulling you down until you were sitting on the footstool in front of his chair, close enough that his knee nearly touched yours. He studied your face the way he studied everything — thoroughly, without sentiment, missing nothing.
"She is a duchess," he said, at last. "She has spent thirty years learning to locate the precise fault line in a person and apply pressure to it in company. The fact that she succeeded tells me nothing about you and everything about her investment in keeping you diminished."
You blinked. "That's — that's not —"
"You are also catastrophically poor at distinguishing between a statement designed to wound and a statement that is true." He said it flatly, without cruelty. "They are not the same thing. Conflating them is a habit you should correct."
"So you think she's wrong," you said slowly.
Chevalier's eyes moved over your face — unhurried, precise. "I think," he said, "that belonging is a question of utility and competence, and you have demonstrated both. Repeatedly. To anyone with the capacity to observe it." A faint pause. "The duchess is not, from what I have seen, a particularly observant woman."
Something loosened in your chest. Just a little. Just enough.
"That's almost a compliment," you said.
"It is an accurate assessment. Don't romanticize it."
A surprised laugh escaped you — a real one, slightly watery at the edges, but real. Chevalier's expression didn't change exactly, but something shifted in his eyes, something almost imperceptibly warmer, gone before you could be certain you had seen it.
"You're terrible at this," you told him softly.
"I am not attempting to be anything," he said. "I am telling you the truth. The two of you are not equivalent. Stop treating her words as though they carry any authority over what you are."
The tears that had been waiting all evening finally made up their minds. You felt one slip down your cheek before you could catch it, and you turned your face away, embarrassed, pressing your fingers to your eyes.
"Sorry," you murmured. "Sorry, I'm not —"
"Stop apologizing." His voice was lower now. Not softer, exactly, but lower. More deliberate.
You felt his hand — cool, dry, unhesitant — come to rest at the back of your head, a careful weight, and then with the same measured precision with which he did everything, he drew you forward until your forehead rested against his knee. He didn't say anything. He simply rested his hand against your hair, and let you.
You breathed.
The fire burned low and golden beside you. The library smelled of old pages and candle smoke and something underneath it that was simply, irreducibly *him.* The tears came quietly, without drama, and he did not comment on them or try to stop them or offer you hollow words about how everything would be all right. He simply stayed exactly where he was, his hand a steady and unmoving anchor, and let the silence do the work that words were never quite built for.
After a while — you couldn't have said how long — you exhaled slowly, and sat back, and found that the unbearable weight behind your ribs had diminished to something manageable.
Chevalier looked down at you. His expression was still composed, still unreadable in the way that had once intimidated you and now, after all this time, simply felt like his particular version of peace.
"Better," he said. Not asked.
"Better," you agreed quietly.
He retrieved his book from the arm of the chair. Opened it to where he had left off, as precisely as though no time had passed at all. But he didn't move back — he stayed exactly as he was, close, your shoulder nearly against his leg, and the hand that had been in your hair settled instead at your shoulder. Light. Present.
"You may stay," he said, to the page. "If you intend to be quiet about it."
You leaned your head back against the arm of the chair. Looked up at the candle-shadowed ceiling.
"I'm always quiet," you said.
"You are, in fact, almost never quiet." He turned a page. "But I find that I don't particularly object to it."
You smiled — small, tired, genuine — and closed your eyes.
The fire crackled. The palace settled around you. And Chevalier read on in silence, his hand never leaving your shoulder, steady as everything he refused to say out loud.
Yves and @kaizoku-musume's Aurelia, the kingdom's most professional yearners ♡
This piece is my submission for the Top Tier! Gift Exchange, hosted by @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies.
I had an absolute blast with it and it was positively delightful to get to participate (and hang out with everyone on discord too).
Let's do this again sometime, hmmm?
Here we are! The gift exchange hosted by @lorei-writes and @pond-lilies is here! And we can finally reveal our gifts! :3
My giftee is @crimsonchili ! I just saw the Secret Relationship trope in your S-tier and I ran with it xd Especially since I love how it would fit between Nokto and Mavis. A little handholding even at a public party, even if invested in different conversations, they would still know the other is near. I hope you like it, Chili!! ^^
Gilbert/MC & MC/Chevalier
Words: 3833
Tags: Contains Gilbert Main Route Spoilers, PIV Sex, Cucking, Breeding, Creampie, Unnamed Female MC, PoV 3rd Person Omni
A/N: We're cucking Gilbert and using Chevalier to do it!
It started with a letter. Correspondence between the Emperor of Obsidian and the King of Rhodolite. Nothing so strange since the countries had begun to make tenuous peace with each other after the succession of the throne in Rhodolite. King Chevalier had always aimed to create stronger foreign bonds, and Obsidian was the largest threat to their small kingdom. It was reasonable, and even impressive, that he had negotiated a peace treaty, and even a no-conflict clause with Obsidian within days of his ascension. But this matter was of a different vein than political. That is what made it unique. Dubious. Dangerous.
First came the letter. One speaking of friendship. Speaking of ties that were never forgotten though obfuscated over the years. A connection that was created so effortlessly and torn apart so violently that the two had proclaimed each other enemy. But fate has a strange way of tying loose ends together and weaving old wounds closed, and it started with a letter from the Emperor to the King about the Empress of Obsidian.
One letter led to another. Then three more. A rapport had to be built. Trust had to be verified. All parties had to pen their own words in codes that talked around the subject due to the sensitive nature. For Chevalier and Gilbert, this was a common task in their communications, but for the Empress it was a level of secrecy she was still getting used to. Gilbert had coached her through it with a frozen smile and an air of discontent. He hated the idea of his love– his wife corresponding with another man. But if things were to be set into motion, she had to prove her willingness with her own words; Chevalier wouldn't accept anything else.
Her message was brief, but truthful. A strange request. But she had always been a strange woman. Unique. That was why she was chosen as Belle many years ago before the Obsidian prince had stolen her away. That was why Chevalier had a fondness for her that defied reasonable explanation. That was why he now pondered on the matter with the seriousness it deserved rather than dismissing the idea outright as any reasonable King would.
Preparations were made. An inspection of Obsidian facilities was long overdue. King Chevalier, himself, would be treated by the Supreme Emperor to improve the diplomatic ties of their two counties. A political excursion by all appearances; no one suspected the personal affair concealed within.
It was several months before the journey was made. It was several days for the caravan to move from one capitol to the other. It was several hours of official recognition and welcoming events, and even more to coordinate proper scheduling of visits and envoys to various locations in Obsidian. Meetings were planned. Invitations extended. Parties confirmed. Appearances maintained.
Eventually, the day came to an end and a late dinner was shared between the Imperial hosts and their royal guest. A casual matter bereft of attendants or other personnel; only the most trusted individuals in the most restricted section of the castle. Emperor von Obsidian’s private wing.
There was no need for polite conversation. No pretenses to uphold. Titles were discarded and with them the heavy verbiage that often constricted more delicate matters. Here they could speak freely, plainly, though there was little to speak about as most of the details had already been established.
A child. She wants a child.
Despite the intimate occasion– or possibly in spite of it, a tension built as their meal concluded. Gilbert heaved a dramatic sigh, his single red eye cutting from Chevalier to land adoringly on his wife. “This won't do at all.”
“It's fine, Gil,” she assured him, reaching out to cup his jaw in her hand. The Conqueror Beast was placated so easily with so little effort on her part.
“You are free to remove yourself from the situation.” Chevalier plainly offered. Gilbert's presence wasn't uncomfortable to him, but the growing oppressive atmosphere was originating from the man currently being soothed.
“What was that? I'm free to remove your head from your body?” Gil smiled gleefully. A turn of his head to level his sharp gaze on Chev was all he managed before she moved into Gilbert's space, pressing her body into him. Her lips twitched next to his ear and the tension in the air eased. “Hehe, you’re lucky the little rabbit is so considerate.”
Chevalier did his best to hold back his exasperated sigh, Gilbert had long been temperamental and often times they had clashed with weapons along with words before they both became leaders of their countries. This was not new behavior. “I am indebted to her.”
“Shall we get started?” She glanced downward, then at Chev, indicating it was him she wanted an answer from rather than Gilbert. Though it wasn’t lost on Chevalier the way Gil’s arm coiled around her waist tighter, or how his polite smile grew dangerous as if he were holding back the murderous beast he was if only for his wife’s presence.
Chev dipped his chin in a nod. She unraveled Gilbert from her form in a way that said this was a common practice for her, her hand sliding into his before she led Gil out into the empty hallway with Chevalier quietly following behind them.
Her pace was unhurried, but determined. There was no sign of hesitance in her movements.
It was fascinating to witness how she had such control over the situation. Over both Gilbert and himself. There was a point when initial correspondence began that he believed she was being pushed into it, much like when she was first given to the Obsidian prince, but it was clear that she had made the decision on her own. Chev had always found her conviction admirable. He wasn’t surprised that Gil had also taken so fondly to her.
She paused only briefly at the door to the bedroom suite for Gilbert to open it for her, leaving it for Chevalier to close behind him. Surprisingly, it was a lived in room. Chev had expected to be occupying an unused chamber for their activities, but this room had all the furnishings to indicate someone spent much time here. Bookshelves flanked either side of a bed that was set near the middle of the room, their shelves orderly filled with countless tomes he couldn’t identify from the distance. It reminded him of his own quarters back in Rhodolite.
With an inward grimace and a slight pursing of his lips, he glanced around the rest of the large room realizing that they were in Gilbert’s bedroom and not hers. Ultimately, it didn’t matter what the location would be, he understood what sort of act they were about to engage in, but there was something unspoken about committing such an act in the bed of another man. Especially a man like Gilbert. An Emperor of a kingdom. A nation of steel and stone. Of war. With a penchant for conquering neighbors on a whim.
Chev’s mild annoyance was short-lived as it occurred to him this was the most logical location to prevent potential rumors of what was to be the truth of things. If they had fornicated in her room, or another place, it would be believable, but in the Emperor’s own bed? His own bed with him in attendance? No one would dare suggest such a thing. It no longer mattered who the offspring resembled. Gilbert ensured the security of her and her child’s future before it was even questioned.
The couple had moved next to the bed. The room dimly lit and decorated in black gave the shadows extending from them endless form. Rolling from creases in their black clothing to the floor and stretching into the darkness of the room to join Chevalier in watching the two orchestrating their dance.
It was a dance not just of the shadows, but of the lovers. They swayed together, hands roaming each other’s bodies as their mouths met again and again. Piece by piece, Gilbert undressed her, dropping taffeta and lace to pool as solid shapes against the rippling reflection of candlelight on the dark stone floor. Layer by layer, she was stripped bare. The only shadows she cast were hers alone and no longer the drapings of the colors of her country and decorations of her title she had wed into.
Somehow she was more radiant now than before and Chev felt an unfamiliar stirring inside him.
Chevalier’s fingers worked his own accessories free as he discarded his cape, mantle, and coat. Gilbert’s fingers worked her soft breasts, groping and fondling to bring forth a rosy hue. Gilbert took her nipple into his mouth as Chev took his belts from his own hips. Chevalier’s shirt buttons quietly popped open in quick succession as Gil popped her tit from between his lips. Her sultry sigh pulled Chevalier closer, a needy sound that so perfectly encapsulated desire and the inability to find words to explain it.
Gilbert’s eye slid to Chev as he approached and narrowed dangerously. His fingers jealously dug deeper into her curves bringing another pleasurable moan from her. Her hand caressed his jaw, bringing his focus back to her. Guiding his mouth back to hers. What was likely meant to be a lover’s kiss had Gil biting her lower lip, his own eye sinking closed as his teeth sank into her. She gasped and groaned and Gilbert swallowed the rest of her protests as they sloppily ravaged each other’s mouths.
It was a show of possessiveness. Gil was making it clear who she was even if she was about to have another man inside her, and hopefully carry a child wholly unrelated to him. Chev understood the message. It was an understanding he had come to before anything had been planned. No matter what was about to happen, she was Obsidian.
Desperately, she clutched at Gilbert’s coat, her knees went weak and she only remained standing because of the way he held her to him. Effortlessly, he guided her to the bed, setting her upon it with reverence. Reluctantly, they parted, eyes glued to each other making silent promises until Gilbert was several steps away from the bed, then they both turned expectant gazes on Chevalier.
He stripped the last of his clothing off and stepped his knees onto the bed, moving with her as she turned and settled on her back. Pillows propped her head up, letting her lidded eyes land easily on Chev moving between her legs. Her pupils were blown wide with lust. A soft sheen from Gilbert’s saliva reflected off her puffy bottom lip.
His eyes slid lower. Sloping down her breasts. Peaking at her erect nipples. Dipping into the valley of her navel and over the plump curves of her stomach to come to her pubic mound carpeted with hair. She shifted slowly under his intense gaze, spreading her knees to turn her hips outwards, giving him room to maneuver to her sex.
Her cunt parted slightly and Chev slipped a finger between her folds to check her arousal, toying with her entrance as he rubbed her lubricant along her slit. She shuddered at his touch, closing her eyes and lifting her chin as a breath was pulled between her lips. With his other hand, Chev stroked himself, his cock already thickening at the prospect that lay before him.
He could hear Gilbert moving to his left. A glance in that direction revealed the Obsidian Emperor cloaked in shadows, reclining authoritatively in a high backed chair. It seemed he planned to not only be present, but to spectate the act. His single red eye gleamed in the candlelight, and noting Chevalier looking in his direction had a predatory smile stretch across his pale face.
Chev’s eyes returned to the beauty below him. He dipped his finger into her core to the second knuckle and slicked it along her protruding nub, switching to rubbing her clit with his thumb in slow circles. Her hips tilted towards him. Her fingers twisting in the bedding. Her eyes remained closed, but an appreciative moan drifted out of her.
Pre-cum dribbled from his dick. With a hooked finger, he smeared the lube over the tip of his cock and lowered himself between her thighs to line himself up with her entrance. He felt her legs open wider against his hips and her cunt lift to meet his cock as he slotted himself into her hole. It took only a small push to get the head of his dick inside her, but her arousal wasn’t immense and after a few inches he was met with resistance.
Little thrusts helped him squeeze more of his length into her, pulling her lubricant out with each small withdrawal before he slid further in with the extra wetness. He could feel her clenching already, further causing the process to be drawn out and more difficult and he paused as he considered how to alleviate her discomfort. After a moment’s thought, he moved from her clit to firmly grab one of her breasts, groping her with his whole hand. Chev leaned in and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking on the stiff teat while toying with it with his tongue.
Her body reacted immediately. Her inner walls bore down on him for a brief moment before her tunnel relaxed and lubricated her more. She moaned, as well, just as she had when Gilbert had played with her body. The sudden realization occurred to him that she was more anxious about their copulating than any of them, despite her obvious determination to take part. Chevalier wished for a moment that he had put more thought into how to make the experience less stressful for her.
He switched from one breast to the other, squeezing and sucking as he continued to push into her. He could feel the difference in her sex, how wet she had become with him showing attention to a different part of her body. His pelvis landed flush to hers, nestled there for a moment before he ground it against her which had her squeezing him in a different fashion than before.
After a few churns of his cock in her cunt, rubbing his pelvis against her clit, Chev slowly pulled his length out almost fully before gliding back in. He didn’t want to start too quickly, unsure of how she was used to being handled. He had never considered before how she and Gilbert had sex. He had no reason to consider it before. Now, however, he regretted overlooking such a matter.
His mouth left her nipple, tonguing and kissing the cleft between her breasts. Teeth grazed along clavicle. Nips trailed up her neck. All the while he slowly worked his cock in her inner walls. He could feel when he hit some place she enjoyed with the way her cunt throbbed, or the way her breathing would hitch, often letting a small moan escape her. His hands roamed her body much like his mouth did. Grabbing and squeezing to find the spots she would react to.
She turned her head away from him when he moved closer to her face, letting him continue his soft nibbles to the underside of her jaw and up to her ear. She bunched the blankets in her fists, trying her damnedest not to dig her nails into Chevalier. The way he fucked her was foreign but not unskilled. And even though she understood this was what it was going to take to conceive, she could tell with every fiber of her being that it wasn’t Gil thrusting into her.
Unfortunately, that stirred up some confusing feelings as well. Chevalier was clearly not just searching for his own release with the way he was fondling her and lavishing her with his mouth. His touch sent her body buzzing in the unusual way she wasn’t used to being handled. Whereas Gil knew every part of her, Chev was learning, and putting effort into it. He could have just achieved his own orgasm and been done with it, but it seemed he wasn’t content with that.
He adjusted his knees on the bed which changed the angle he penetrated her and her body flexed under him. Her hips rocked and her shoulders pulled back. Her moans were sudden and gasping. Her fingers splayed before grabbing tightly into the blankets again. Her cunt clamped down, using his cock to stimulate something deep inside her with every plunging thrust.
Not only did she seem to like it, but Chev did too. The way she had become more active. The way her pussy grabbed him, stroking his shaft. Even her gasping moans were novel and exciting. He wondered what it would be like for her to climax with him buried inside her. What would she sound like? What would she feel like milking him as she came?
Chevalier roughly grabbed her hip, holding her in place as he fucked her into the bed. He kneed her legs wider, causing her to lift them into the air for comfort’s sake. “Oh– Fuck! Hngh—” She cried, the change in the angle once again hitting deeper than before. In this position he felt larger with the way her hips were tilted making her clench him tighter naturally. Grabbing her ankles, he brought her legs together in front of him then rested her calves on his shoulders squishing her under him, allowing him to bring more of his weight down on her as he began hammering into her.
Their sexes wetly slapped. Her core trembled. His cock throbbed foretelling his imminent orgasm, the pressure in his groin swelling. Her sounds came out in short, strangled gasps as she teetered on the edge of her own climax. Chev knew he should slow his pace if he wanted her to come, but his instinctual yearning to feel euphoric release clouded his judgment. Her cunt was wonderfully wet and warm and so snug around his pistoning cock.
A thought briefly occurred to him, and on a whim he decided to follow it through. He rolled his shoulders, shrugging her legs off of them and dropped nearly on top of her, her breasts pressing into his chest with each quick inhale she took. For the first time since they began, her eyes opened, surprised at his sudden repositioning. Her heated gaze focused on him for less than a second in the time it took her to understand what was happening, and then his mouth crashed into hers and her eyes fluttered shut again.
Their lips worked open and closed, and she moaned into him. Their tongues rubbed in a rhythm separate from the way their genitals rubbed together. Then she was pulling away, or at least trying to as Chev continued to plunge into her. Her moans became uncontrollable. Her back arched and her inner walls spasmed. Chev’s pumping stuttered. He drove his cock as deep as he could, smashing their sexes together as he unloaded inside her, unable to ride out her orgasm that rolled longer than his own. His ass flexed as he tried to push deeper still, her cunt gripping and tugging as they both throbbed for their own pleasure.
He panted on top of her, holding himself up to give her room to breathe without his weight pressing down on her. Except for their labored breathing, the two of them laid there in silence. Chev watched her as she once again refused to open her eyes. It was interesting how much that changed their dynamic. Was it to protect herself, or was it consideration for him, he wondered.
His eyes drifted down to her parted lips. She licked them absently, then pressed them together, humming contentedly. He considered kissing her again. She seemed to enjoy both when he and Gilbert had done it. He was certain that was what had pushed her into her own orgasm. Chev shifted, lowering himself to bring their mouths together again.
“If you are finished, you may leave.” Gilbert’s voice rang out, halting Chevalier mere inches from her lips.
He huffed a single sardonic laugh at the timing, knowing it was purposeful. His breath tickled her face and she slowly opened her eyes to look up at Chev so very close to her. For a moment they stared at each other, then her lips parted as if she meant to say something but Gilbert broke the silence once again.
“Do take care not to spill when you go.” There was a rustling from Gil’s direction, a tell that he had risen from his spectating seat.
Chevalier pushed himself up and, as directed, was careful not to spill his seed as he withdrew his softening cock. She squeezed her legs together immediately after, intent on keeping his cum inside of her. This would all be for nothing if they let the result go to waste.
It didn’t take Chev long to redress, and soon he was out of their immediate vicinity, leaving the room with the door closed behind him. Gilbert had waited (im)patiently. He stood near the bed, positioned between his wife and Chevalier, watching the donor the other man his… friend to ensure no lingering glances were cast her way.
Gilbert had an awful jealousy streak, but his love for his wife and her happiness would always prevail over the darkness inside him.
She wanted a child.
Chevalier was the safest choice to make that happen. He wouldn’t get involved. He wouldn’t contest parentage. He would do his deed and be done with it, never speaking of it again. Logically, Gil knew that, but…
Gil turned to his wife. She had rolled onto her side, quietly watching Gil stand protectively nearby. Her eyes were on him and only him, and the restless beast in his heart quieted down. She would have been in the right to scold him, but she said nothing. She understood him and his jealousy. She understood his emotions better than him, sometimes. And she accepted every part of him. Even the unbecoming parts. Even the filthy parts.
He inwardly sighed at himself, continuing to wear his polite smile despite the fact that she could see right through it.
“Come to bed?” She reached a hand out towards him in invitation. When he didn’t move, silently sulking in the way that he often did, she added, “You know I love only you, Gil.”
“He wouldn’t have walked out of here if the case were anything else.”
“I know.”
“I could have him dispatched tonight while he sleeps.”
“I know,” she said, suppressing her smile.
“Perhaps I’ll invade Rhodolite while he’s a guest here.” The threat was toothless. He certainly could, without a doubt, make the call to do such a thing, but he wasn’t interested in conquering Rhodolite. The only thing he loved in that country was already his, waiting for him to come to bed.
Tag List: @bakersgrief, @specters0rd, @rkmaru, @oh-my-otome, @william-rex, @scummy-writes
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Ending A/N: I have another cucking fic with Gilbert lined up. Okay, so, here's the story. I tend to write the subject and act of my fics as the title for my WIPs. Usually I remember what sparked the idea and I can go to town on it when I'm ready. However... My ADHD is getting really bad lately and I found about six months ago I had titled something "Cucking." That was it. Just "Cucking."
Surely, I had some idea in mind, but I couldn't recall it for the life of me. I mentioned this to Scum a few times, perplexed that every time I looked at it I was drawing a blank, so she said, "Gilbert." And I said, "YEEEESSSSSSS!" Of course I said yes.
If you guys have read Jude Jazza's main story or event story, u guys should have know Theodore kun. I haven't seen anyone draw him so this is him in my imagining, might helping you guys visualize him🫶 ( this is my rough sketch color of him)
