I'm just imagining how Gilbert von Obsidian would admire the pretty engagement ring he put on your finger as you eat breakfast together.
He has you brought back to him to his kingdom, dressed in the finest midnight black silk, the scent of fresh roses still lingering on your flesh as he indulges in the softness of your neck. Sometimes he just allows his lips to linger, to tease you like the cruel man that he is.
Other times, his patience snaps like a twig and he just bites.
The bites are never gentle. They're rough and sharp, the bruise would stay there for weeks to come and don't you dare cover them up.
You would just upset him if you did that, and that is not something you want to do.
It gets harder and harder to focus on the food in front of you as Gilbert just keeps going at it, his red eye twinkling like a ruby, its sheer redness nearly blinding you with its intensity.
You are at an impasse - do you fight him? Your spirit is still intact and you have no desire to stay stuck in this gilded cage he set up for you. But you just think back to all the blood that was spilled because of you, how many people lost their lives because they helped you, none of which knew that you were engaged to the deranged beast prince of Obsidian.
Gilbert sinks his teeth into you once more and you are brought back down to reality.
There really was no fighting him anymore, was there?
You let out an accidental little yelp, much to Gilbert's pleasure. You feel him grin, his pearly whites tainted with your thick, scarlet blood, just how he liked it. He won, he knew this.
He was just happy that you finally were aware of that fact too.
He wouldn’t. He would find an online presence frivolous. He’s very invested in physical media, any memories worth anything to him are in the form of photographs that can be held.
I could possibly see him having a secret and very private account used to keep track of the princes from other kingdoms, but he would probably not frequently use it. Most of the pictures are from Belle’s insistence.
Silvio Ricci
His public account is basically one big money spread😭. He has curated a flashy and luxurious image for himself. Showing his travels, purchases and a “money talks” attitude. This account is mostly for networking since he has business from all around.
His private account is more personal. Lots of dates with Belle, less curated. I like to think he uses this account to bully Rio.
I put a picture of fricassee because I swear in one of the events Belle makes it for him and even though it’s so simple he loves it. I cannot for the life of me find the event now though. Does anyone remember it? I think Belle finds Silvio with nothing so he lives with her even after accumulating enough money to leave? Lmk I’m not crazy. Also let’s pretend the guy in the profile pic is older, I can’t find any other silvery blue haired guys.
Rio Ortiz
He’s spent most of his life following Belle, his account would revolve around them. He’s a d1 clinger and an acts of service final boss.
Luke Randolph
The greenest feed you’ve ever seen. I like to think he takes pics with his and Belle’s bears (they have matching ones) together and they take them everywhere. He’s also posting all his honey baking.
Summary: In which Silvio and I are self-proclaimed mortal enemies, and all our friends are tired of the underlying sexual tension neither of us ever seemed to notice.
Warnings: There were attempts at plot. First person pov as I felt the "you" might not resonate as well in this one maybe? (Loosely based on Emma/MC bc of the way they argue lol) // Smut: Slight femdom reader, switch!Silvio (a bit OOC bc of AU setting), oral (female receiving), a complete waste of drinks, getting locked in a room together, oh and uuhh an otphj.
A/N: Uni!AU because I wanted petty bickering and constant proximity for their silly rivalry. Consider this Silvio with all of the usual family issues, but a little less (sexual) experience — and a similar hyperfixation on "the one woman who bites back". Listen, I tried my best with Silvio's speech, but it's not as consistent as say Jude's (or possibly Motonari's).. Hopefully still flows alright though. 🙏
It had been the most wonderful of days. Emphasis on was.
Now free from another long week of uni tying me down, it was finally time to get some R&R over the weekend. The sun was shining—not blazing, for once—when I walked out of lecture hall and past Building H. A refreshing breeze sent a few loose strands of hair whipping about, subtly signalling of the changing of the seasons. Everything was almost like a scene out of a movie.. until he happened.
Navigating across campus to get to my car, I was itching to belt out some of my favorite songs as I drove home, briefly debating grabbing some food on the way. Who was I kidding? Of course I was gonna treat myself. But sparing just one glance at my phone due to an incoming message was all it had taken to wreak havoc. Thanks to the distraction, I'd managed to bump into someone, spilling the contents of the lukewarm drink in my other hand all over the innocent bystander.
Only it turned out this was no ordinary bystander. It just so happened that I had the misfortune of running into my self-proclaimed mortal enemy—quite literally, at that. The very same man who was now glaring and cursing at everything I stood for as the realization and implications finally sunk in. The mere acknowledgement of my existence seemed to antagonize his usually haughty sea blue gaze.
“Do ya ever look where you're goin'? Shit.. These clothes are ruined.” Silvio begins to complain, seething at the sticky iced substance seeping through his cashmere jumper and down onto tailored denim. He must assume that I never pay attention to where I'm going, seeing as I've always pretended to be very interested in whatever was on my phone when he was around. But little did he know that was just so I could try to avoid having to deal with him and his shitty attitude whenever Silvio would take notice of my nearby presence.
When I finally break from my trance and look up at him—having felt like all of this happened in slow-motion despite not even being a minute’s worth of time—I find myself caring a lot less than I would have if I'd just spilled coffee over… well, just about anyone else.
“Oops,” I ooze sarcasm, shooting him the most obvious of fake smiles, fully intending to just keep walking past him. Silvio quickly moves to grab my arm, exasperated by the cold shoulder he was given after something he didn’t even cause. This time, anyway. The sound of jewelry jangling is all too familiar, akin hearing war drums the moment it's within the vicinity.
Was there really any one solid reason I hated Silvio? I pondered. No.. it was hard to narrow it down to just one, actually. The way he always seemed to carry himself, especially around me, had never quite rubbed me the right way; let alone us not having gotten off on the right foot to begin with.
It had all started when I'd made the grave error of sitting next to him one god-awful Monday for a sociology lecture I'd been late to after having overslept. Silvio made sure it was absolute torture for me; relentlessly teasing everything from the pajama pants I'd forgotten to change out of to the night before’s smudged mascara still somewhat stuck to my cheeks.
But it was the little things about him, I think, that piss me off the most. How arrogant he was, how much of a know-it-all he was, and how he always seemed to be bragging about his money and status, flaunting it endlessly despite my scowls and disgust.
So as I come back to the moment, watching as Silvio prattles my ear off, it dawns on me that he's expecting an answer to a question I'd never even heard. The entirety of his monologue had sounded to me much the way a fish in a bowl would hear anything, truthfully. (And the mental imagine of his face on a fish's head, fins at his hips, is a priceless one indeed.)
“Come again?” Not bothering to hide my disdain, my eyes lazily flick from Silvio's ruined jumper to the crease in his brows. I secretly have to bite the inside of my cheek just to hide the laughter that once again threatens to spill past my lips at the reminder of his sorry state.
Silvio begins to repeat himself, but not before ocean blue eyes roll to high heavens, dramatically running a hand through his dual-toned hair and— Wait, since when had his hands looked that nice? The sunlight caught his eyes just right and— I mentally slapped myself to try and focus; something it was starting to feel like I was incapable of today.
“I asked ya," Silvio scoffs, "what you were gonna do to remedy the situation.” He arches a brow and crosses his arms expectantly, instantly regretting it and uncrossing his arms as his sweater sticks to his skin in all the wrong ways.
“Oh, that.. I was planning on remedying my mood by walking away from you entirely,” I chastise, mocking his sour attitude with a petulant huff.
As if he wasn’t already tired from a long day, running into me had apparently been the cherry on top; Silvio was about ready to tear me and my smart mouth a new one by this point. Getting on his bad side was a social death sentence for most—yet somehow, I have yet to experience the horrors other students still whisper about. No one's sure why, but it feels like everyone's waiting for the moment the other shoe finally drops.
“Look here, Lady.” His words quickly fall flat, his expression morphing as if it had burned his tongue to even call me anything less than offensive. “Listen to me, and listen damn well. I couldn’t give less of a shit what ya wanted; much less if ya rathered I drop dead right now, bitch. You fucked up and spilled your coffee on me." Silvio's hands shake slightly, but it goes unnoticed with all the words being thrown at my face in rapid suggestion.
"Get it together and fix the situation now, or I’ll fix you my damn myself. And trust me, it won’t be pretty,” Silvio spat, turning red in the face by the time he’s finished yelling at me in the near-desolate campus parking garage.
“I hate to break it to you, but the situation will never be pretty. Not as long as it somehow involves you, Silvio,” I snort, leaving him to stew in a puddle of blind rage and coffee stains.
It isn’t until about two weeks later that I even see Silvio again—but you can be sure that he hasn't forgotten about his revenge for even a minute since. The opportunity had all but fallen into his lap, and Silvio was never one to say no to a "good deal". Catching sight of me in his peripheral, my attention was glued to the notes spread before me, spending another day at the library studying for final exams. It was just his luck that I'd picked today of all days to wear a white top—one of the boldest fashion choices in a bustling campus. To Silvio, revenge was a dish best served old. But to me, karma was about to be a royal, bling-covered bitch—and I was about to find out its name took on the form of Silvio Ricci today.
Just as I'm turning the page to answer one of the final questions in my psychology course's study guide, I see someone trip out of the corner of my eye, noticing a second too late to dodge the oncoming downpour of an entire bottle of red Gatorade.
Once again in slow motion, I watch what looks and feels like a murder scene of both my hard work and innocent shirt. All the meanwhile Silvio has the audacity to smirk at me before acting the victim. As he gets up to go clean off his arm in the bathroom, I grab onto it and glare daggers into his thick skill. (Thirty-six of them, to be precise.) If looks could kill, Silvio would have already been at least halfway through his own funeral service by now.
“There somethin' that seems to be the matter, Lady?” He grins cheekily at my shivering form, lips upturning further victoriously when I can’t seem to find an answer fast enough for his liking. “Suits ya, bein' quiet for once. Hah, looks like ya got all wet for me, too.” Silvio’s gone before I can blink twice, satisfied with having been able to even the score.. for now.
And so the childish war between two grown adults began in full; with either of us attempting to trip one another, or steal a parking spot from the other, or just screw each other over at the campus cafeteria somehow. Both of our friend groups were honestly sick and tired of the way we would act when it came to the other, and had decided upon a revenge of their own. They'd begun preparing a mouse trap of sorts, meant to get us both two dispel the underlying tension that had allegedly gone unnoticed to everyone but the both of us. And by gods, did they pray it would work.
One of my closest friends had invited us over to a dorm she’d claimed was having a party, and after finals were over, I was more than happy to oblige. (Phase 1 complete.) Meanwhile, Silvio's friends had lied through their teeth, managing to convince him that they were bringing over a sampling of rare liquors for everyone to try. (Phase 2 complete.)
It wasn’t until I was forcibly shoved into the bathroom of said dorm upon arriving and heard the door lock from the outside that I'd noticed Silvio sitting against the sink, having already been locked inside before I arrived. He may not have been Einstein, but he was certainly no idiot; and now that he knew what his friends’ plan had been all along, he was absolutely furious.
“Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?! So what, this was their master plan? Lock us both in a room and hope we don’t kill each other?” Silvio runs a hand through his messy hair for the umpteenth time since being stuck in the small room, feeling as if his roots would be tugged out any minute now. Just what he needed to get his mind off another fight with his asshole of a father, of another week of busting his ass for results no one cared about—yet always expected of him.
“Or maybe they were hoping you’d confess your undying love for me already! Aww, how romantic..” I gasp theatrically, hands over my mouth and heart while I feign hope even at his deadpan expression in response. With a roll of my own eyes, I move to look around. “Did they at least leave us any food or drinks?” Taking in the bare-bones bathroom that feels more like a prison cell, I'm grateful to at least still have my phone with me, if nothing else.
“I’d sooner eat a whole cake in one sitting.” Silvio stands upright to each over and once again attempt to open the door somehow. I simply watch him struggle, taking a seat atop the sink and trying to lie to myself about totally not checking out his nice ass from here. Perhaps one could loathe someone’s entire being and yet still think that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t completely unattractive. (And other lies I'd tell myself as I absolutely did not imagine scratching up his broad shoulders. Nope, not even for a second...)
I hadn’t even realized I was busy daydreaming until Silvio had snapped me out of it. “The hell are you thinkin' about that you’re bitin' your lip like that for?” he muses, wondering why I'd seemingly been eerily calm instead of trying to bite his head off by now. “Ya must be real hungry or somethin' if you’re even more of a space case than normal.”
“Yeah, starving.” Lying seems to be all I can do today, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from losing my grip on the last thread of my sanity.
“You’re always welcome to eat my ass,” he retorts, grinning triumphantly as if he’d been dangling a treasure in front of me I couldn't have. Fine, then. It's not like I cared about his nice ass anyway.
“First of all, what ass? And second of all, fuck you.” I picked at my nails, starting to feel boredom hit. Not even our fighting felt like it had any of the usual fire to it when we were cramped in this dingy little broomcloset of a dorm washroom.
“Fuck me? Well, if that’s how you’d like to kill your time in here. But don't come cryin' when no one else ever comes close.” Silvio teases back, curious as to how far he could push the boundaries, wanting to finally see me break under pressure.
“The nerve– To think I would ever fuck you. In your dreams, Ricci!” I scoffed at the proposition, as if I hadn’t just been wondering what it would sound like when I'd make him moan my name and beg for more mere moments ago.
“In my dreams or yours, Lady? Is that why there are always bags under your eyes? Are all those wet dreams of me leavin' ya restless?” I felt my jaw drop at his shameless statements, racking my typically witty brain to come up with any sort of retort. But any conscious thought left my brain when Silvio leans in and purrs indecently at my ear. His rich, spicy scent envelops me just before the warmth he exudes presses against me, an arm snaking around my waist. “Why not make your dreams a reality then? I'll let ya.. just this once.”
I'm unsure of just how it happens or why I go for it—but before I know it, I've pulled Silvio in by the collar, sucking on his bottom lip, then dragging it with my teeth as I pull back. Interestingly enough, Silvio had gone stiff as a board, pink in the cheeks and looking anywhere but at me.
“The.. The fuck was that for?” he asks, incredulous, hoping to mask the tremor in his voice. "Now you've really gone and–"
“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” I murmur as I lean back into my seated position, almost falling deeper into the sink before his arms reflexively shoot out to catches me. Silvio's arms around my waist as he stands between my legs has me feeling some kind of way.. And belatedly, I realize it isn’t long before I've found myself devouring his lips in another kiss. Silvio shudders and lets out a stifled groan when my lips move down to kiss across the expanse of his throat, pausing to suck at his Adam's apple and making his hips buck in the process.
“You’re all talk, aren’t you?” My eyes sparkle at the realization, watching as Silvio freezes in fear of being caught. “You act tough, but you get flustered so easily.. Hah, bet you'd let me boss you around in bed– No, actually.. You're already getting off on this, aren't you?” The newfound confidence seemingly oozes out through my pores, a wicked grin playing upon my lips as my nails scratch lightly along his spine and over the thigh fabric of his silky top, forcing a shiver from him.
“So tell me, are you gonna be a good boy for me.. or am I gonna have to punish you like the little bitch who's always barking at me?” My words don't falter, eyes gleefully registering the way his mouth runs dry, swallowing hard.
“A-as if I would ever– Oi, watch your hands! Ngh..” Oh, this will be fun. I've only gotten to be the dominant party a handful of times to date, but I'd been craving the feeling and power that this kind of intimacy brings for awhile now. Let alone the fact that I'd just managed to get the Silvio Ricci—current bane of my existence—on his knees for me, in every sense.
I remain seated at the edge of the sink, having tugged my dress upwards just enough so that Silvio could properly eat me out. He wasn’t bad at all, I had to admit, but it wasn’t his tongue alone that had impressed me, no, it was his fingers. He had long, slender fingers that curved just right inside me, making me clutch at the edge of the sink until my knuckles paled. As I watched his free hand reach down to coax his length through his pants, I reached for his hair and pulled him away from my core, a shimmering string of my arousal still connecting us.
“Did I tell you you could touch yourself?” Silvio grunted and furrowed his brows, lightly glaring up at me as if it would be enough change my mind. He felt as if he was going insane from ignoring his throbbing length, desperate for some relief himself. “You’ll only get to come if you play nice and make me come first.. So if I catch you touching yourself again, you're gonna regret it,” I scold, clicking my tongue with a light tug at his hair.
Silvio's fingers ram into me with speed and force unparalleled, sucking at my clit and ravaging that spongy spot deep inside that has me seeing stars. He makes me come around two of his fingers, lightly nipping at my clit, and my hands can’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away entirely. I end up opting for the latter as it all becomes too much, breaking away from him to catch my breath as he pants from the intensity of his efforts.
“Should I be nice and let you have some fun now?” To which Silvio's hands grip my thighs a little tighter in his desperation, unconsciously letting out a small groan at just the thought of release, aching and weeping from the start.
I guide him to sit on the floor with his legs stretching out as best as the small space allows, straddling his lap and unbuckling his belt before tugging his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his throbbing shaft. I slowly take the thick length in my hand, just barely grazing at first and luring him into a false sense of security. Silvio closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind him, a string of profanities leaving his mouth as my own now sucks at his tip. My thumb runs down his sensitive shaft, deeming him more than hard enough by now after all my teasing.
“Ah ah, open your eyes, I want you to look at me,” I command all the while peeling his arms away from my hips, allowing them to settle on my lower thighs instead so he wouldn’t be able to control my movements. Weakly, Silvio opens his bleary eyes to look up at my face, wondering when the little devil in front of him suddenly became the angel on top of him, holding the key to a paradise of pleasure.
I grab his cock as my hips slowly sink downwards, running his length through my wet folds. Relishing in the whimper he unconsciously lets out before I completely lower myself onto him, I slide down until my thighs make full contact with the denim beneath my own. Short, jagged breaths escape past Silvio's lips, his vision blurring as his glassy eyes try to fathom the pleasure of my tight, wet heat encasing his needy cock.
“Fuck.. C'mon, do somethin', anythin', already,” Silvio mutters, worried about what might happen now if he disobeys, but too horny (and too Silvio) to stay quiet, let alone outright beg. Smirking at the state he's been reduced to, I shush him by teasingly slipping my tongue past his lips, beginning to ascend off his shaft before lowering back down again, repeating the process in a tortuously slow manner. I bask in every single one of Silvio's moans that are swallowed by the kiss, a few grunts of my own mixing in when my self control begins to slip.
Grinding against him every time I descend and meet the added friction of his pelvis against my clit, the uncomfortable feeling of rough denim and pointed zippers digging into my thighs doesn't even register. Chasing my second orgasm, I remind him that he can’t cum until I give him the ok, rubbing furiously at my clit until I'm seeing white and the coil in my belly snaps taut.
The world goes dark for a moment until I come to again, my ragged breaths fanning against the sensitive skin at his neck. My lips curl into a cheshire grin at the sight of Silvio's jaw tightening, fingers digging into my thighs as he struggles to hold back his release. After just having finished coming all over his cock, I pull off him and climb off his lap, leaving Silvio bewildered. He was more than likely wondering why I was tucking him away and zipping his jeans back up.
“The fuck? This wasn't part of the deal! I made ya come, so where's my–” Silvio growls, grabbing at the hem of my dress with a mixture of frustration and confusion, chest heaving and eyes wide with disbelief. But despite the hunger and his desire to claw at me, Silvio hesitated, unsure if he'd be left hanging for pushing too far.
Being this pent-up wasn't something Silvio Ricci ever had to deal with. As a matter of fact, he didn't feel like he was acting himself today at all. Silvio had never been in this position before, and he almost hates that he's enjoying it as much as he has, especially given who's the one holding the metaphorical leash. (Metaphorical for now, perhaps..)
Why the hell was he letting anyone put him through this level of humiliation? Perhaps all the in-family fighting and stress was getting to him, and not having to make decisions for once felt.. surprisingly more pleasant than he'd expected. Though he'd definitely like it a lot more if he actually got to finish..
“Sshh, it’s ok, you’ll get to cum. We’re just.. doing something different now.” Silvio's too wrapped up in finally being allowed to come that he thinks nothing of my devious grin, his brain practically mush at this point under the heavenly feeling of contact once again. I stroke his length over his jeans, placing open-mouthed kisses across his stomach as I wait for the exact moment to enact my revenge, a flawless victory. And I get my wish just a few short moments later when he’s coming hard and fast. A large, dark, wet spot forms across the front of his light blue jeans as I'd neglected to pull his briefs back up, allowing for all of it to seep right through.
While Silvio rides out the waves of his release, I stand up to fix myself up with the aid of the bathroom mirror, making sure I'm presentable when I reach over to jangle the doorknob. And sure enough, it finally gives way this time. Looking back at Silvio who still looks blissed out on the floor, I bend down to wish him farewell.
“Thanks for the orgasms, I guess.” The corners of his lips quirk in return, a surge of pride flowing through him, thinking he's won by making me admit he'd gotten me off; more than once, even. Until...
“Have fun rejoining everyone looking like.. that.” I let out a dark giggle, sadistic glee in my eyes that drink up the view one last time before walking out of the washroom and out of the dorm altogether.
Only once I was fully out of sight and Silvio had gotten over his post orgasmic bliss did the meaning of my words sink in… I'd gotten my revenge by leaving him with an even more questionable stain than coffee or Gatorade could ever leave, making it look like he’d just finished jerking off in the bathroom by himself.
Silvio attempts to quietly leave the restroom and flee his friends' dorm room, but is unsuccessful as he runs into all three roommates, eyes widening comically upon their collective laughter. It looked like this war was far from over, but perhaps a truce could be called in the form of the age old system of enemies with benefits?
Deep down, Silvio didn't exactly hate my guts.. but he did hate losing, he'd always been a sore loser—and a real petty one at that. The only thing more sore than Silvio after taking an L was going to be my body after a night of his own payback, he was sure of that. So why did the thought alone have him growing hard again? It was just spite, surely.. But no amount of alcohol that evening could get his mind off the way I'd looked, sounded, and felt earlier. Fuck... this was gonna be the longest night of his life.
clavis lelouch x reader || warnings: dubcon, dry humping
dry humping with clavis and telling him that it'll be fine if you do as long as your underwear is still on. him trying to hold back because he knows where he'll want it to go if he allows himself this much but you're already grinding against his lap and it feels so good. so he agrees.
what he didn't anticipate is for you to pull your panties to the side to "feel him better" and you're "not doing anything. it shouldn't make that big of a difference with your panties out of the way." and then his dick is catching on your hole every time you grind against him, his fingers digging into your hips to control himself with a shaky breath.
"my love, please." he's not entirely sure what he's asking for but the small smirk from you is enough to tell him how you took the small plead. especially after you slide his dick into you while he repeats "no, no, no" to himself but ultimately makes no moves to move you off. especially not after you're fully seated on him and moaned so sweetly in his ear about how good he feels
plot: it's a possible continuation of that chapter in Licht's route where he says that tonight is the last time you see each other. there are no spoilers for the route (except the part I've already described :)), so you can read it without any worries, i suppose
words ≈
tags: smut, hurt/comfort (or more like no comfort), p in v, any kisses, licht's kinda dom
a/n: i think licht's a bit ooc here but i tried to make him as natural as possible even within such a lewdy fic lol
*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆
You desperately tried to hold your tears back and bite down the sobs, sitting on the edge of your bed where Licht sat you down. You still couldn't believe it — the last night you see each other. As a single tear ran down your cheek you felt Licht’s palm on your head. He stroked your hair, trying to comfort you. And why should he be so kind even now, after he had told you that awful news. Your vision blurred more as you stared at your clenched fists, knowing you were unable to change his mind once he had decided. But suddenly his quiet voice just near your ear made you slowly look up at him.
“Ask me.” He said with the usual calm expression he always had.
“Ask what?”
“Ask whatever you want me to do. Tonight's the last time we see each other. You can ask me anything.”
You stared at him, seeking in his eyes what he could mean. His face was as calm and beautiful as ever, his dark gaze held yours. Something kindled within you like every time you met this penetrating gaze of his.
Did he really mean it? Could you really ask him anything?
Licht didn't turn his crimson eyes from you, he just kept waiting, and you knew it was the answer. He would really do anything for you, but only tonight. Perhaps, it was some kind of apology, maybe he felt a debt for leaving you after what you had promised to him.
You opened your mouth to speak but your voice was too small and not a sound came out. Licht tilted his head, leaning slightly forward to you to hear you better. He noticed your gaze drop to his lips and rise back to lock with his. Your lips began to move again, and you quietly, hesitatingly pronounced,
“Will you really do anything?”
“Mm.” He nodded.
His calmness was enough to make you resolve, so you closed the distance between you two, and your lips touched his. A kiss was light as a feather, and you quickly moved back.
Licht didn't move. Suddenly you realised how late it already was. The light of a single candle near the bed was slowly dying down, making the dark room sink even more in the night. This second something flickered in his red eyes, and for a moment you were scared it was too much, that he would reject you, that he would regret what he had told and would be only glad to leave you forever and right away. But then Licht leaned closer and you felt his warm lips against yours once again. It was a chaste but long kiss. It seemed the moment he felt you, he didn't want to leave. You felt him gently placing his palm on your waist, and he parted from you to end the kiss. Your palms found his face and you brought him to you again. Your fingers sank in his silver and soft as fur hair. The kiss became bolder, harder, and in no time his tongue intertwined with yours. You had no idea Licht could be so hungry and eager. That kiss hazed your mind completely. His strong arms closed around you, and you melt in his warmth. If the night could last forever, you’d wish for nothing but to stay just like this, in his embrace with his mouth against yours, never being apart.
The candle finally went out, immersing your bedroom in the almost pitch darkness. Only the moon glancing through the floating clouds time after time shone through the tulle.
Gradually Licht pulled away from you. His hands remained on your waist and your back, stroking your body, as if he tried to remember your every curve. His hot breath fanned over your face as he looked at you, his gaze was dark again but not like before. There was not only that abyss you felt he was falling in, but something different that was shimmering in your gaze as well now. For the first time his look was filled with an emotion, and it was sensuality. You always found yourself drowning in his eyes, so intense and seeming to know everything that was yet strange to you. It was both frightening and exciting how easily he could capture your attention, even when he himself had no idea about it, and was only desperately trying to push you away. You didn't know yet the reason why he was like that. You only knew you would follow him wherever he would be. And perhaps it would hurt both of you, you didn't care, not tonight when you witnessed the glimpse of forlorn hope within his hungry kisses.
“Please…” You whispered and your palm slid down his neck to the buttons of his shirt.
You saw hesitation in his face as he looked away. You knew what he probably thought: you two could not. And you knew it was once again out of his thoughtfulness. But this night was everything you had, and you wanted to take all from it, and to give Licht all you could. And you saw in his red eyes that he, deep inside, wanted it too.
“Please, just tonight.” Your palm slithered down his chest where you had already undid his shirt. Licht finally looked at you again, just in time to notice how you bit your lower lip, running your fingers over his toned and unusually hot skin. “Only tonight and I will never bother you again.” You whispered with that look which he hated the most.
None of you said it, but you both knew it was wrong. It would only hurt more the next day, but… Perhaps if you pretend there was no pain in the tomorrow, if you indulge your instincts, then maybe later the memories of the sweetness you were about to share could soothe the future hollowness in your hearts.
“You're indeed stubborn and greedy, aren't you? Want to take everything from what a night can give?” Licht softly smiled, the sight of it filled your chest with ache.
“Yes, you’re absolutely right about me.” You gave him a smile, “You can hate me for this.”
“Mm.” He closed his eyes for a second. “You’re making it too easy for me to hate you. I thought I couldn’t hate you more than I already did, but… You messed with my heart too much.” Licht pushed you down on the bed. The moonlight silvered his hair as though he had a halo. “And that’s why I hate you.”
His eyes of a wolf slowly travelled down and up your figure, as if engraving every detail of you in his memory, and then he leaned down to you. He captured your face in his palm, pressing his lips to yours. A deep, passionate kiss ignited the fire in your core. On their own chord your legs closed around his hips, bringing him closer, and you felt his hardness against your thigh as he unconsciously bucked his pelvis forward. Licht showered down your neck with loud kisses, he sucked on your skin though not firmly enough to leave a mark, as if afraid to leave any evidance of tonight. His palm cautiously slid under your nightgown, pushing the thin fabric aside, and his fingers touched your hardened nipples, twisting them stimulatingly yet tenderly. A sight escaped your lips as he replaced his fingers with his mouth and closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of your flesh on his tongue.
So far Licht still hadn't taken his clothes off and you struggled to push his flax shirt down his shoulders. You felt him tension suddenly and you stopped. You remembered that you’d already seen him shirtless, so that shouldn't be a problem now, right?
“If you want to, we can stay in clothes.”
“It’s not that.” He looked away when he met your gaze. “You just… I don't think you’re used to the sight of scars.”
“Well, it might be true, but… It's dark here actually and I really… want to see all of you. Accept all of you.” He found your gaze once again. Why should you look at him like that? With such longing as he was already hurting you. Perhaps he was, and he himself could feel the pain, too. But it was the pain of tomorrow and it should not exist within what you gave each other tonight. And besides the pain in your eyes Licht could also see fondness. And it hurt him even more.
“Why do you always say that?”
His shirt fell down and Licht appeared over you again. Your palms found their place on his chest right away and you stroked his skin down to his abs, stopped at his belt. All his torso was covered with the lines of old scars and seams, you could feel them under your fingertips.
“Because…” You bit your lip thinking over what you wanted to say, “Because I adore you”.
You looked up at him, waiting for his reaction. His gaze clouded again as he rose above you and he looked away with a frown.
“You have no idea what you're saying.”
Before he could continue, before he could fall even deeper into that black abyss of his past you sat up to silence him with a kiss. To your surprise he tightly embraced you, his tongue poked at your lips and then he showed it deeply into your mouth. Your hand slowly slid down to his abdomen and you touched him there. His sight was swallowed by your kiss. When you finally parted, both panting, you whispered to him,
“No matter what you did in the past, it won't change the things you did to me. For me.” You saw him astonished. “And for me you're the best one, Licht.”
Still being stricken with your confession, Licht let you bring him down to tower over you as you fell down on the sheets. Now when you lay beneath him with your chest exposed, with your eyes boring into his with a blend of longing and adoration, with your cheeks burning rose red from lust… Your kisses, your palms lingering on his body, made him feel more and more distinctly that beast inside of him, desiring to take you. And he tried to push that sinful need deeper inside of his heart, but your words, that plea in your eyes, it was more than he could bear. How he hated it. And hated you for making such a mess of him.
With a single thrust Licht was in you. You gasped at sudden pain but pleasure took over it at the instant, and you tightly embraced him. Your heated bodies pressed to one another as he moved smoothly and steadily, each thrust hit deeply into your core, sending waves of pleasure through you, making you shiver and cling to him even more. You closed your legs around him, your palms wandered over his broad sweaty back, nails slightly grazing his skin. Licht hardly could hold himself back, he positively forced himself into that slow pace to not hurt you. But each quiet moan escaping your lips made it harder and harder for him. He buried his face into the corner of your neck, murmured something, you couldn't help but be surprised at how low his voice became. His breath and lips were hot against your neck.
Just as Licht thrusted deeply, burying his whole shaft into you, he covered your mouth with his palm when you couldn't suppress a loud moan. He raised himself a little to meet your gaze. In the dim moonlight your tears shone in the corners of your eyes, making your eyelashes seem even thicker. You rolled your eyes back, he felt your pleading sights his palm. The sight of you was just too beautiful. He removed his hand to cover your mouth with a fierce kiss. Licht quickened his pace, letting more of his beastly desire take over. As you parted you threw your head back in pleasure, a whisper of his name escaped your lips. You felt his palm on your chin as he quietly ordered you to look at him and tilted your head down. You focused your gaze on the man in front of you. Licht was even more handsome than ever. His wet lips parted, dark crimson eyes staring into yours, eyebrows frowned, pearls of sweat sliding down his temples. You wondered how he could be so tender and so firm at the same time. And whether he had an experience or was it his natural gift. But you couldn't be distracted for long as Licht’s hand lowered to your belly and down to the place where you were connected. His fingers found your sensitive bud, all wet and swollen. A single touch was enough to make you feel like burning and in a few more gentle strokes you came.
* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *
In the morning, tossing lazily in your bed with your limbs sore, you woke up. The sun could barely shine through the rain clouds, tincturing your room into the pale grey of a rainy morning. You stared at the window for a while, afraid to turn and see whether he kept his word. You could still feel Licht’s warmth nearly, and you knew it was only a phantom of him. The images of what you two did last night filled your mind, and you felt the sweet ache in your belly like yesterday and a sting of pain in your heart. You really, really didn't want to face it.
“Licht…”
You finally turned.
Alone.
There were no traces of Licht. Just as he told you.
Obsidian Retribution (IkePri Gilbert von Obsidian - NSFW)
Rated: NSFW/18+ 🌶️
Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian/Reader
Words: ~4k
Tags: developing/denial of feelings, church desecration/sex, vaginal fingering, minor violence, spoilers for Gilbert’s route (chapter 9), re-telling of canon events, angst
Summary: What happens when you throw yourself into harm’s way in a bid to protect Gilbert at one of Clavis’ covert anti-monarchy meetings? Unconsciously stirring out the whetted fangs of the Conqueror Beast.
And you witness, once more, just how scathingly cruel his desire for monopoly over your body truly is.
A/N: I’m currently in the midst of Gilbert’s route but he’s been such a flowing inspiration and need that I had to write this indulgent piece for him, for myself and the five other Gil fans out there who would cry with me LOL.
Characterization might not be accurate to end route Gil, as I’m at the beginning of his route still, so this is written with my understanding of an early Gilbert. ILOVETHISMANSOMUCH.
The lethal sweep of the blade engulfs your vision entirely, the noble’s hand poised right above his shoulder — a strike you know you cannot avoid. Your life, as if you view it through the distant barrier of a panorama, right before it’s extinguished.
The sole knowledge that you do not regret your actions one bit, your one solace, eyes drifting shut, that one moment of death stretching slow and long.
A glacial whisper, of knelling death curls into your ears, “I do not recall allowing you permission to die by another’s hand,” His only pre-emptive warning, just before Gilbert grips a harsh hand about your neck and hurls you backwards—
“Belle!” Into Luke’s body as he catches you against himself right before you careen straight into the ground.
A whimpered groan breaks into the air right after; your whirling head, catching its bearings just enough to catch sight of Gilbert standing above the writhing figure of your would-be assailant, bunched at the ground. The sharp end of the perpetrator’s blade — now within Gilbert’s hand — he brings up in a vicious arc, surely in murderous intent.
“Prince Gilbert, don’t!” Your voice breaks in terror into the air, before the knife is able to find home within its pitiful target.
His hand, fortunately, halts just before it slits through the noble’s carotid, the latter long having fainted in mind-numbing fear, unable to bear the single-focused brutality of the conqueror beast.
Gilbert raises his face as if operated via a puppeteer's strings, cut before it could fulfil its performance. Garnet gaze, sweeping slow, before it finds its next victim, within you. Your breath frosts within your lungs, incapable of function, the vicious weight of his terrifying visage subjecting you to his splintering displeasure, despite the cruel smile that remains even now, firm in place. “What is it, little rabbit? Are you begging me to kill you instead?”
“Prince Gilbert!” You hear Luke entreat, as if from afar.
A volatile shiver cascades down your spine at the look he’s giving you, thinly veiled revulsion and rage within that sole scarlet eye.
Gilbert takes a step toward you; your breaths coming in short, staccato bursts and yet you’re unable to turn away from the hungering violence within that gaze. Scurrying thoughts unable to comprehend why exactly he seemed so incensed at you.
“Come now, out with it. I know you wish to say something to me.” Gilbert offers you an encouraging smile, even as the murderous intent radiating from him with each step he takes forward, threatens to smother you entirely.
You know what he wishes to hear in that moment, of no mind to hear your own thoughts on the matter. An apology, for your actions, reckless, they may have been, but you do not hold an ounce of regret for trying to protect the man that continues to disconcert your heart; sink his dark trellises deeper into your soul.
“Prince Gilbert, I—”
The stifling pressure in the room, cut through only upon Clavis’ interruption, just as he steps into the room to offer a jaunty congratulations to Gilbert for providing an entertaining show.
The weight of his gaze flees entirely from you, your body — you did not realize you’d held steadfast by sheer force of will — collapses back against Luke’s comforting presence, just as he hauls you up and into his arms, to carry you back.
“Aren’t you a lucky one?” Gilbert’s cheery voice drifts, discomfiting against your retreating back.
“Prince Gilb—”
“Take care you don’t let me catch sight of you again, or I might just kill you.” Your heart thrums in confounding pain at his words, the clear line he carves in between the two of you in that moment.
Your mouth unable to form sufficient words to try and catch his attention just as Gilbert turns away from you entirely, the soft flitter of his cape as he does, the last sight you capture of him, as Luke carries you away from the scene.
The longcase clock at the end of hallway has long struck midnight. You continue to pace, restless, about the corridor. Eyes cemented upon the window, affording you a clear view of the castle gates as you stake your agitated wait for Gilbert’s return.
Luke and you had returned a few hours back, to the castle in a private carriage. You’d run into Rio as soon as you’d alighted, almost immediately after, being carted in between the two men as they’d fussed you straight into the infirmary. The good part of the hour after, spent in making sure you were truly unhurt save for the minor scrap at your arms.
It was only multiple reassurances later and holding Rio back from charging deep into the night after Gilbert, did you escape from the fretful affections of your friends and out, to await Gilbert’s return.
His expression returns to your mind’s eye in vivid detail; the way that cold, scarlet gaze had zoned in on you, the shuttered intensity of violent rage underneath. It was as if you’d been looking upon a stranger.
Now that you’d had a few quiet moments to compose yourself away from the fright of your earlier situation, bone-deep remorse was beginning to settle within, at having displeased Gilbert the way you did. A forced companionship he may have forged in between you two, but the startling glimpses of his kindness that lurked beneath the serrated edge of his cool blades, had your heart shred asunder between fear, rationale and genuine care. You couldn’t deny it, not after tonight. You had, perhaps, grown to care for Prince Gilbert, far more than was ever appropriate.
The soft whinnying of horses disturbing the quiet of the night outside drags you out of your reverie just in time to catch sight of Gilbert’s figure descending the carriage.
You begin your rush towards the main entrance, but instead of making his way into the castle, Gilbert’s steps veered off towards a path leading to what seemed to be, the back of the castle.
You fly down the winding staircase and into the foyer, heart battering against your chest. Pulling open the great doors to the entrance before you dart after his retreating figure that is a mere speck in the distance, now.
You do not want to lose sight of him. You must see Gilbert tonight and make him listen to what you have to say. Despite your fears, you do not wish to abandon Gilbert with the notion that you did not care. Even beneath the carving of a beast, he was just a human too. A man who’d come so close to bordering a rapidly diminishing line in between friend and foe.
Up ahead, Gilbert ducks past belting cobblestone, headed in the direction of what seems to be the structure of an old church. You frown, thoughts wrought with questions you know you’d get no easy answers for.
The tapering sweep of his cape disappears just past the great, carved wooden doors of the church, and you too follow, on tentative, urgent steps, slipping through the entrance and into the church.
It sits empty, save for the dark figure of the man standing motionless, close to the pulpit.
“I didn’t think you were foolish enough to come chasing after me even after I warned you not to.” Gilbert’s voice drifts eerie in its calm, down the long hallway, even as you trudge closer on careful steps. “Tell me, is it that pure kindness of yours which feels for every living being, or an empty head that has dragged you this far into the beast’s den?”
Gilbert’s words are scathing, deliberately cruel, meant to burn. You have not heard him utilize that tone of voice with you in so long.
“Well then,” he prods; voice, sweet poison. “Are you going to answer me or shall I make you answer me?”
You drift further into the church on uneasy steps, the great doors behind sway shut behind you in a creak of finality, as if knelling of an ill-fated decision. Against all wise sense, however — your heart insists you do — you tread towards the man who stands waiting, at the end of the long, carpeted hallway.
A poised form; his head at an easy cant, a crinkled garnet eye fixated upon your foolish movements — you do not miss the incessant, muted tap of gloved digits across the flared bulb of his cane, an uncharacteristic agitation to his visage, you’re not used to witnessing on Gilbert. He stands, all obsidian, against the backdrop of watered twilight that filters in shafts past great, ornate windows on either sides of the quiet hallway — as though he is a devil awaiting the willing scurry of a sacrifice right into its willing maw.
You grit your teeth against the frightening intimidation he’s settled deep into your bones, a festering cloak he’s had thrown over in between you, warning you to stop prying deeper into his affairs. “I want to speak to you, Prince Gilbert.”
“Oh? What if I do not wish to listen, little rabbit?”
“Then, I insist you hear me out.” The cutting streak of his blade is so swift, you only but feel the soft stir of your hair about your face before your breath frosts within your windpipe at the deadly edge of the sword he holds against the careful swallow of your throat.
“You really do wish to die by my hand tonight. What an utterly insipid way to cut my fun short, Belle.”
You force yourself to hold your ground, even as the first tremors of fear crumple across your limbs. “I don’t want you to kill me.” Compelling courage to rise in the face of his raw vitriolic anger, you wish to parse the reason for his distress. “I only want to know why you are so angry with me.”
A serrated smile tugs across his mouth. “Do you ask because you really do not know?”
“I don’t. And I don’t think I did anything to warrant your unjust ire either.”
“Unjust...” he murmurs. “You would’ve realized it if you took but a single moment to think.”
Your mind takes his words and works about them in a million different ways. “I realize my actions were reckless...”
“That is a good start.” the sardonic amusement of his voice does not reach his eyes.
“But I do not regret my actions, Prince Gilbert. I...” you swallow around words that are sudden lead within your throat. “I do not think I could bear to see you get hurt.”
The admission uttered on soft, firm words; stews dense within the space in between you both. Gilbert's lone scarlet gaze, watches you, motionless as the terse silence stretches taut into several excruciating moments.
Before he gathers his blade back into its secreted scabbard once more, beneath the cloak at his waist — your breath escaping you on a rush of relieved air, you did not even know how tensed you’d held your body, until its released from the grip of Gilbert’s dread, with the withdrawal of his blade. The Obsidianite prince turns on his heel, the flourish of his great, dark cape behind, as he moves to seat himself in the first pew. He does not look back at you as he instructs, “Come.”
And you follow, without a word of complaint uttered; know that you tread in dangerous waters. A single, wrong move, and you’d miss your window of opportunity with Gilbert entirely. His emotions would be shuttered off to you, once and for all, were you to lose your nerve now and flee from him. Despite how part of your heart still tremored within his presence, how you still couldn’t help doubt each single edge of his kindness so deeply steeped within his malice; hope still sprouted within you regardless. Willing to gamble upon the Gilbert you often times caught glimpse of; one who’s consideration did not come attached with its poisonous strings.
You shift on anxious steps once you’re in front of him, Gilbert’s gaze, mildly muted of its ire when he fixes it upon you. “Your impulsive actions could’ve cost you dearly tonight.” He begins.
“Impulsive, yes... but even if I had stopped to think, Prince Gilbert, I couldn’t—”
“You couldn’t afford to see me hurt, yes, I heard that silly part the first time you spoke it, little rabbit.” he reiterates.
You clam up on yourself.
“You could’ve died. Did you stop to think how much the mere thought of your demise irked me?” He angles the head of his cane, to tap against your hip, gesturing you closer.
And just as you steal close within arm’s length, Gilbert’s gloved digits are curving about your arm in a vice, hauling you down to topple onto his lap. His murmur’s a warm caress against the shell of your ear. “I would’ve hated it if you’d died.”
Your mind careens into a rash halt of all thoughts, blanking entirely at the quiet certitude of those words.
“...What?”
“Foolish, isn’t it?” His smile is wide, undisturbed across his face. Just as transient as the surface of a pond, subject to be disturbed by the slightest of ripples. “Even when I despise you so, Belle, I cannot let you go.”
“Prince Gilbert...”
Your mind cannot parse the meaning of his words. If this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d have understood him to mean he did not wish for his prey to be ‘impaired’ by another. Gilbert had told you so, on several occasions and in no less than explicit terms.
However, now as you look upon Gilbert; emotions naked, unlike you’ve ever seen before. Jagged enough they could cut you through if you dared try wade in deeper. Into the insinuation barely concealed behind that sole garnet gaze.
The arch of his cane steers a slow caress over the shirt at your chest, before it dents into a stop right above your heart. Gilbert presses in, insisting the polished head against the give of your left breast — your heart seeming to catch at the hook of it with how it seizes at the motion. “This right here could’ve stopped,” he mulls, almost clinically. The insouciant inflection of his voice disarming at the last careful barriers and inhibitions, thrown up in protection of your heart. “I am human too, you know, mere flesh and bone. I cannot be there to protect you each time that heart of yours decides it wishes to do good to all, regardless of their status as man or beast.”
“Prince Gil—” Your voice fractures into a pained gasp, just as he seizes the fingers you reach out for him, sinking a sharp bite around a vulnerable digit. You clench back further signs of weakness with the slow, aching sweep of his tongue against your captured fingers; the teeth that worry at tender skin, pinching another warning at your approach. And reach out, again, with your other palm. Succeeding in curving your fingers about his cool cheek in a tentative touch up the line of it. Thumbing gentle right beneath the cusp of a surprised gaze, singular scarlet disarmed by the tender action. Before it crinkles in mild resignation, half rebuke, “You truly are a fool.”
Gilbert tucks his face against your cradling palm, further allowing you slack, to temper at the beast that has — for the moment — lowered its great head to you. That is all the victory you need from him at the moment, for him to pay heed to you for the words you wish to communicate. “I’m sorry.”
The apology rings piercing in the quiet space, Gilbert’s gaze unrelenting in the long stretch of time that seems to trudge slow in between you both, the longer he lets those two words stew.
Pink tongue darting out a nervous path to slick moisture at long dry lips, “I’m sorry for not thinking my actions through and for not treasuring myself more in the moment. I realize that upset you greatly and I apologize for that, Prince Gilbert.”
He remains silent throughout your confession uttered, red gaze, and a gloved hand, tracing a deliberate path across your chest, right above your heart. You know he can feel the moment it thrums faster, beneath his welcome touch — why, why do you not hate Gilbert touching you? — gliding its exploration across the space. “Will you promise not to do what you have today, again?”
The thought of uttering a cosy lie, flitters through your mind for a split moment of relapsed judgement. Before fizzling in on itself; you know well how Gilbert despises untruths spoken, no matter how small. Would know, were you to try offer false placations. And so, you opt for the bitter truth — one you too, realize with a jolt of realization, “I... cannot promise you that.”
His eye rolls up to meet yours, the sharp edge to it, you swallow against, as if he has a phantom blade pressed to your throat once more. “For as much as I deeply regret the trouble I’ve caused you, I know I’d hate it even more were something to happen to you.”
“Those are dangerous fantasies to harbour for a prince of your enemy nation.” A muted smile graces his features; a dark gloved thumb he brings to trace at your lower lip, delicately disengaging it from the worrying bite of your teeth. As if he, too, hadn’t confessed so, in less clearer words, not too long before. A dangerous game you two play; you don’t wish to disentangle the throttling wad of your emotions tonight.
“Well, that’s too bad then, I guess, because those are my true feelings, Prince Gilbert.” You stare back, resolute.
His smile quivers in mild amusement. “I know.”
“And I’m willing to do anything to show my sincerity, if it gets you to accept my heartfelt apology.”
That garnet gaze shutters, taking on a hard edge at your words; the burbling shadows of darkness that catch just beneath that smiling veneer before it vanishes entirely. “You’re playing a treacherous game here, little rabbit, one that will unfortunately end in futility, no matter how hard you try.” His smile grows wider, until you’re seeing the flash of teeth in it. “Nothing you do or say can ever change the positions you and I stand in. So, tell me once more.” A firm arm curls about your waist, heaving you flush against the cold, clothed expanse of Gilbert’s chest, a stifled gasp leaving you at the motion. “You’re not silly enough to not understand the true implications of your offer, are you?”
Your next breath quivers out of you. “...I am not.” Your fingers snag awkwardly at the regal collar of his mantle, sinking into the soft fur lining the edges. “I wholeheartedly wish to make amends.” And you pitch your head forwards, the tentative kiss you touch against Gilbert’s cold lips has you shuddering in his embrace. “I can’t promise you what you want but I can convey my honest remor—”
His hand slinks into the catch of your hair, hauling you back towards him in a kiss of cool desire, mouth moving against yours in a manner, it leaves you flushed and breathless by the time Gilbert parts from you on a wet, sultry sound. A hand he cups about your jaw, thumb denting at your chin in measured strokes. You tip your mouth, catching the edge of his glove in between your teeth to tug, slow. Deliberate. Curving your hands about his, in aid, before you wrest the glove off his hand entirely. Moving to discard it behind, at your feet.
Gilbert’s bared hand moves to curve about the flare of your hip; a patient squeeze he applies to the flesh beneath. His other hand he extends in silent instruction for you to de-glove before you comply without question. You tremble above him in need, his simmering gaze more than making up for the cold you feel permeating through the thin cloth of your dress. “Go on,” he encourages. “You’re going to work for it, aren’t you?”
Your breath heaves with the slow rise of your chest, hand stealing past the stiff collar of his cape to settle your fingers at the side of his neck, tracing hesitant pads down the line of it. “You’re so cold.”
His lashes sweep shut over his eye at your touch, canting his head further into the warmth of your palm; a figure he paints so lovely, you know this empyrean visage is what you’d always envisioned within your mind’s eye when you used to read about kings and princes within your happy fairytales, long before in a time that seems so far into the past now. “You should warm me, then. Show me you’re capable of it.”
Sinking a vexed bite into your lip — adamant on proving yourself right — you hoist your knee awkwardly onto the narrow seat. Gilbert’s hands immediately flit to curve their supports against your behind and lift, just as your other knee too, settles by his thigh, effectively straddling him. Your breaths stopper momentarily within your throat with the expectant lift of his gaze, palms squeezing softly against your pliant flesh. Your hands fly towards the flow of your dress before you slip the material up against your thighs, deliberately exposing your bare skin to his gaze.
Gilbert's eye flashes; molten steel bleeding into the gaze, before one of his hands steal past the edge of your still rising dress and in between your legs to glance a searing touch in between your drenched folds, right above your underwear. You gasp at the euphoric sensation, hips lurching against his hand on instinct, trying to capture it deeper into you.
He indulges you — perhaps he feels particularly merciful in that one moment of whimsy — the pad of his forefinger re-tracing its path in between your folds. Before his thumb tucks aside the edge of your underwear, to slide index and middle in a slow, torturous path across the bare flesh from hood to base. Teasing the cool tips of them just into your entrance. Your body flares in mortified need to feel your wetness gush onto his fingers at that mere testing touch.
His eye rolls up to meet yours, the smile that lingers at his lips, immensely pleased. “You’re very warm here.” Propelling his fingers, slow, up into your clenching walls. “It’s almost as if you’re running a fever, little rabbit.” You moan against him, with each deliberate thrust, the pads of his digits finding your weakest spot frighteningly quick, to scrape repetitive, at the soft flesh. “Do you think I’d be just as hot were I to settle deep into your place here?”
Your hips judder against his fingers at those words, grazing the heel of his palm against the neglected bead at your apex, sending fire soaring through your body at that split moment of contact. Your soft, soughing sound of need breaks into the air, body gyrating down against that searing point of contact, in rhythm with the leisured thrust of his fingers into your spasming walls.
Before Gilbert, cruelly, siphons the heat from you entirely at the cusp of release, fingers pried out of you to drift up against his mouth. He sweeps his tongue against his drenched digits, copious arousal dripping past his wrist to soak into the pristine cloth at his thigh. “Sweet thing,” he hums, just as you flush further underneath his piercing touch.
And before you can manoeuvre your weak limbs for much else — mind so hazed in its lust addled state, you’re not sure what’s happening — Gilbert’s free hand is stealing about the curve of your spine. Pressing you down against the firm, hard strength of exposed flesh; the smooth head of him bumping about your nub to have you keening into the touch. Spine arching the rest of the way forwards without the coaxing of his hand, so he slips just past your entrance; fingers spasming into his shoulders at the stretch. You rock against that pleasurable almost burn for several, excruciating moments, in and out — surface thrusts — head falling back against your shoulders.
Gilbert throws his hand about your body, fingers splaying just beneath the wings of your shoulder-blades, hauling your coasting body to hold firm, against his. “Don’t lose yourself now, little rabbit. You have yet to satisfactorily apologize.” Tempting your body down into his lap until he’s propelled, at last, into your drenched walls, a rapid sigh issued from Gilbert’s lips at the sensation.
Your body quickly warming his into yours — the shape and stretch of him has you nearly faint with desire. “I’m sorry,” you croon on your first roll upon him. “I-I’m so sorry.” Grinding him up into your walls as deeply as you are able, the unyielding strength of him so numbing within your body. Even inside you, connected this intimately, Gilbert von Obsidian must have his own way with you.
And you’ve let him do so, for so long; at his beck and call, thrown to his tender mercies. And yet, your mind had gone and coddled unfathomable emotions for him within its bosom. He'd gotten past your defences, just as he’d promised; crawling tendrils underneath your skin, into your frenzied beating heart, deep into your mind, until he occupied every thought along with each waking breath of yours. And your tiny victory lay in the knowledge that perhaps, you too had chipped a small chunk past that obsidian armour and carved a shallow wound at his skin, of your name.
“I’m sorry for angering you, Gilbert.” You weep upon his length, hips driving fast towards a swift approaching release.
“You are, aren’t you?” He breathes, hands catching at your waist to aid your movements upon him. “I’ll forgive you. And I’ll forgive you for neglecting to speak my proper title too, Belle, since I’m the one who has ruined you.” His smile is almost sweet, pleasant upon his face as he looks up at you — you drink that saccharine poison down almost fervidly. “You’re allowed to be remiss this once, because we are friends.”
He’s driving, hard, into you — powerful enough the pew beneath you creaks with the propulsions — at an angle that has him brushing hot against your swollen nub in blinding strokes, just at the cusp of release, threatening to overflow. “So, call me Gil instead, when we are alone. I shall permit it, for you. Say it now.”
Your body breaks, spasming into a release so violent, your entire body shudders above him. “Gil.” You sob out loud, your arms he coaxes about the strength of his shoulders. Fingers you sink into the soft fur of his mantle to ground yourself, just as Gilbert’s warmth follows soon after into your quivering walls. “I-I’m sorry, Gil.”
A breathless, flushed grin, Gilbert von Obsidian buries against your mouth before he speaks. “Apology accepted, little rabbit.”
End Notes: Thank you for reading!
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It's been so long since I've played the games and I've recently gotten back into Ikepri so I thought I might as well write something for the characters I like
Seeing as I've only done their routes these are the only characters I'm comfortable writing for (for now): Keith Howell, Rio Ortiz, Licht Klein, Sariel Noir, Luke Randolph, Silvio Ricci
I'm currently in the process of doing Gilbert's route (I'm near the beginning) so expect him at some point?
English is not my first language and reader is kept as neutral as possible. Also my requests are open!
My masterlist
Keith Howell
Depends entirely on how the injury happened and if it was caused by someone else is that someone still there.
So let's explore those why don't we.
Watching reader get injured (because of themselves) ? Won't worry as much. He saw how it happened so he knows how to care for the injury. Will most likely scold them a bit though.
Seeing reader injured because of themselves? Will ask more questions, a little more alarmed but still calm. Again scolding and caring for the wound.
Watching reader get hurt because of someone else? Oh now this is where is gets interesting. He's got that cold calculated anger you know? He knows lashing out makes situations worse so he's quiet. But he's got a nasty stare. Will have someone else take care of it while he tends to the wound.
Finding out reader got hurt because of someone? Now this is where is anger becomes a little more apparent. He's able to show his emotions a little more without worrying they'll impact the situation heavily so he'll probably be a little grumpier than usual while patching reader up.
Very gentle when it comes to actually tending to the wound. Knows what's best to use for each type of injury and won't hesitate to implement forced rest.
Rio Ortiz
Taking care of the injury before asking any questions.
Genuinely he's the type of person where the moment he sees reader injured everything is dropped and he's there to tend to the injury.
If it was an accident on reader's part that can be avoided by having them avoid doing something in the future, Rio will offer to do it for them from then on.
If it's something caused by someone else he'd quietly lose his shit and start plotting.
Licht Klein
If you thought he's quiet in general he's basically silent now.
Knows how to take care of a wound efficiently though it might hurt a little more than the previous two.
If it was an accident he won't draw attention to it. He knows reader is probably embarrassed enough as it is so he'd probably just sigh and mumble a quiet "be careful next time." Then pretend nothing happened.
If someone caused it he won't do anything about it outright but he'll keep an eye on the person just in case.
Sariel Noir
So so so much scolding. This man will patch reader up but will spend every minute of it telling them to be careful next time.
If it was an accident like them tripping over something or slipping he'd make sure the area in the castle gets 'baby proofed' not for the sake of avoiding another accident but more for the sake of embarrassing reader and reminding them of it anytime they pass by that spot.
If someone caused the injury he'd wouldn't do anything about it personally but he'd make sure it gets taken care of.
Luke Randolph
Very laid back about it. Will care for it casually while teasing but that's about it.
If it's an accident that he's witnessed he'd probably laugh about it before actually helping reader out.
If it's an accident but he didn't watch it he'll laugh at reader while patching them up.
If someone caused it that's when he starts being serious. If it was done by accident he'll just be a little annoyed but go on with his day, if it was done on purpose lord have mercy on whoever did it.
Silvio Ricci
Acts like he doesn't care (he does).
Will get someone else to care for reader while he watches to make sure they're actually being cared for properly.
If it was an accident he'll probably call reader a few names, nothing too mean but enough to make it clear he's 'annoyed' at how clumsy they are.
If someone caused it he'd instantly start paying people to hunt them down. He doesn't play when it comes to people he 'owns'.
