PLEASE elaborate on the version of knight!vi where reader is asking her to show her how “the matters of the bedroom work” PLEASE. you would genuinely have my soul i beg
also adore your fics have the best day!!!
hnnnnghhhh okay okay okay okay i am def gonna write more in the knight!vi universe but like --
+18, mdni, vi-shaped and also very historically inaccurate
knight!vi who gets assigned to be your personal protection by your father, the king, bc he doesn't trust any of the other knights, who are all "young men of a certain elk", and he doesn't think to consider the fact that you might not be interested at all in young men at all, regardless of their "elk".
vi though -- you've always had your eye on her, the way her body is so sculpted, the way that she can keep up with any of the "young men" in question, in the mess hall, drinking and laughing and making dirty jokes. and sure, she tries to be respectful, but you see the way she watches you too, her eyes lingering on the bend of your corseted waist just a beat too long to be totally innocent, the way her eyes go wide when you catch her, the way her cheeks flush and she tries to look like she wasn't just staring every time you meet her gaze.
knight!vi who could swear that you'll be the death of her, with the way you court trouble, and its nearly all she can do to keep you from being discovered by the king, pleading with you when you try to sneak out for the nth time that month, her fingers clasped around your wrist, trying not to think about how soft your skin feels compared to hers.
"oh come now, vi... it's not like i'm doing anything bad..." you say, and the way your voice drags over the word "bad" makes her want to jump into a pit of venomous snakes -- it'd be less perilous than the traitorous thundering of her heart, or the way her stomach clenches at the sensual sweep of your lashes as you bat your lids at her.
"princess," she says, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice, "you know the king --"
"what my father --" you say, raising your voice slightly as you flounce back to your mirror and resume brushing out your hair, "doesn't know won't hurt him," you finish, resolutely setting down your gem-encrusted brush. it's a beautiful thing, glittering in the flickering candle-light. vi's eyes linger on it, wondering how many families it could feed for the winter if it were sold at market.
she swallows around a soft sigh.
you shoot her a triumphant little grin, knowing you've won.
"so -- are you coming, or not?"
knight!vi who starts to relax around you after a while, who tells herself that it's harmless, the charming banter, the careless little quips, the way you lean into her touch for comfort -- she tells herself that she's just upholding her sacred oath -- she is duty bound to protect you, to do well by you, and to keep your best interests at heart. and isn't that what she's doing? and if that includes offering you a hand to hold when you need it, a shoulder to cry on when you're frustrated with your father's growing impatience for you to marry then --
so be it.
knight!vi who overhears you one night, your pitched whimpers and bitten-off moans almost unmistakable (because she'd be lying if she hadn't found herself imagining what you must sound like); she moves as if in slow motion, her limbs shifting without much thought from her -- she watches herself almost from outside of herself as she pushes into your chambers and finds you -- your skin glistening in the dim candle-light, one of your hand fisted in the silken sheets of your bed, the other shoved between your thighs, your hips rocking down --
"princess --?" her voice comes out hoarse, and you gasp, scrambling back up the bed, eyes wide, but the moment you see her, you swallow, letting out a tiny whine.
"v-vi --"
vi nearly crumples, her knees going weak (what she wouldn't do to hear you moan her name like that again, and again, to be the one kissing it from your lips, to work you open over her fingers till her name is the only one you can remember --)
"oh -- fuck -- apologies, princess -- i -- i didn't mean --" she tries to spin around, her cheeks burning as she realizes what she's doing, what she'd walked in on.
you clear your throat delicately; there's a soft shuffling of sheets.
"i -- well, there's no use being coy about it now, i suppose..." you say, your voice flippant, though vi can hear the subtle shake beneath your words. she squeezes her eyes shut once and takes a breath.
"no, princess -- it was inappropriate of me to -- interrupt --" she turns and drops to one knee, her head lowered.
"oh stop it --" you huff, and you sound so petulant that she looks up, only to find you sitting up, your hair a mermaid tangle falling over your shoulders, your skin glistening in the dim half-light. you look nothing short of ethereal.
"princess..."
you bite your lips, looking suddenly bashful, glancing at her before your eyes fall back onto your lap. you start to pick at an invisible loose thread in your silken sheets.
"i -- i thought that since... my father's so dead set on marrying me off... i might as well --" you swallow, waving a flippant hand, though the way your voice trembles leaves vi soft and breathless.
"might as well..." she repeats, letting her voice trail off as she takes a hesitant step forward. you make a face, cheeks burnished beneath the flickering candlelight.
"no one talks to you about this --" you wave your hand again, casting about for the right word, but finding none, you shrug, "stuff."
vi lets out an incredulous laugh, though she manages to pass it off as a cough as you shoot her a half-hearted glare.
"none of your tutors ever..." vi asks.
you roll your eyes, "you really think my royal tutors are going to teach me about the what happens in the marriage chambers?" you slump back into your fortress of pillows, "i know less about sex than the common milkmaid."
vi sighs, carefully perching on the edge of your bed. a part of her is thankful that she'd chosen to forego her heavy armor in favor of a lighter leather tunic. she props her elbows on her knees, legs spread, and tries to think.
"i'm sure it's not as bad as you --"
"how on earth am i to pleasure a -- a man if i can't even pleasure m-myself?" you sound pained, exasperated. vi purses her lips, heat crawling up the back of her neck as a truly terrible idea slithers into her mind. it coils her gut and tangles at her heartstrings. it makes her mouth water and her throat squeeze.
"well --" she says, her words halting, "i don't know much about men..." she keeps her voice as steady as she can, her gaze fixed on a middling point, her entire body angled away from you as if she could will this idea away even as the words tease passed her traitorous lips --
"but i do know a few things about pleasuring women."
knight!vi who no longer wonders if you'll be the end of her because now she knows -- now she knows how you look, your body arched over your silken linens, how you sound when you gasp in pleasure, how your lashes flutter seconds before you come undone around her fingers, your breath heaving from your chest, your eyes unfocused, glazed over with want as your fingers search her out.
"there... easy, princess..." vi soothes as you soften into the tangle of pillows and rucked up sheets.
you let out a breathy little laugh, blowing a strand of hair from your face. you look radiant, spring-kissed and flower-strewn and vi has fought against warriors three times her size but somehow, it's still the hardest thing she's ever done, pulling away from you --
"well," you say, pushing up onto your elbows and cocking your head at her, your doe-eyes dark and wide, "i think that does it."
vi frowns, watching you. you offer her a corner of your bedsheets to wipe her fingers, she stares for a whole three seconds before she realizes what you're doing and hastily shakes her head. you flash her a lopsided little grin before dropping it.
"that does... what, exactly?" she's almost afraid to ask, and under any other circumstance, she might've been stripped of her rank for speaking so informally to you, but given that it isn't under any other circumstance (and she's still got your juices dripping down her wrist) --
"i shall tell my father that i no longer wish to be wed."
"what?" vi gapes.
you tug down your nightgown with neat, prim little movements, tucking your feet underneath you as if your thighs hadn't been wrapped around her forearm just minutes ago.
"you've proven to me something that i've suspected for a long while but --" you sigh, reaching for your water glass. vi makes a short, abortive movement towards it before thinking the better of it and keeping still. you take a small, contemplative sip of water, "well, it's not exactly orthodox, but there's no use lying to papa about it."
vi frowns, her heartbeat quickening in her chest as she blinks at you.
"which is...?" she hedges.
you stare at her, almost expectant as you flutter your fingers through the air.
"that i could never be satisfied by a man, because... i simply don't seem inclined towards them that way."
vi licks at her suddenly very dry lips.
"highness, i'm not certain that's how political marriages work."
you roll your eyes, "oh highness, now, am i?"
vi flushes, her eyes downcast.
you scoff, "no, i'm perfectly well aware of how political marriages work, my most loyal knight," you tick your tongue over her title and she almost winces, but she glances up to find you grinning, that self-same lopsided little thing, sharp as daggers, sharp as the first thin crescent of a waxing moon.
"but. i refuse to be married to someone a don't love, and seeing as i could never love a man, i'm afraid the only answer is for me to never be wed."
again, vi frowns. "but... the throne --"
"will come to me when my father dies."
"no woman's ever ruled without anyone by her side before."
your grin stretches and stretches, and for the first time in a long while, vi remembers that you are most definitely your father's daughter.
"i never said i'd be alone."
vi gulps, "then... who'll you have?"
you flick a strand of hair from your bare, light-kissed shoulder.
# blurb, pairing: vampire knight!vi x queen's sister!reader. eighteen+, fingering (r!recieving), oral, inference to the ideology saints and sinners, dub-con if you squint.
# raynote. this is purely just based off vibes and a feeling. i really like this concept though so might fuck more in depth with it later.
a friendly reminder, my blog + content isn’t for minor consumption.
violet vanderson, the knight in shining crimson blood. an unbearable cross she bears, the crown she’s never been born for heavy on her head. through the entire century sir violet has lived, there have been many faces, but none as beautiful as face of the golden goddess.
on the first fortnight since sir violet reached the kingdom of piltover, you graced the palace of your presence. a sister of the queen, a widow. every lady in the court couldn’t help but discuss how tragic your harsh reality has become. beautiful, young, dressed in gold everywhere you went—but completely alone.
where the gossip rang true in the status of your marriage, it spun incorrectly when it came to you being isolated in your grief. the mourning however feigned, would be kept in secrecy with your dying breath.
for sir violet vanderson kept your chambers guarded at night and you kept her body warm and her craving for bloodlust full.
with every passing day your sister, the queen of piltover, beckoned you to consider to be remarried. you didn’t crave another lifeless husband, one you had to play dress up for. there would never be joy. nor would you ever enjoy the simplicity of a life where you played a role, fulfilled your sense of duty, but inside the traitorous desires of your soul would ache.
violet quelled your need with the sharp edges of her fangs. blood-thirst coursed through her limbs with each feeding but couldn’t quite reach her fill. violet become more insatiable than the last.
the shine of the moonlight, her knees pressed into your sheets finely tucked into your bed, she made due as you gave her an offering.
“i never get tired of filling you, princess.” at the injunction of your thigh and bone, she injects her venom, her curious nectar making it’s way in your weak bloodstream.
each and every night when you despised yourself for being weak for sir violet—you reminded yourself of this feeling. the blood you lost replaced by the venom she intentionally places in your body.
when you asked, she spoken of the liquid being gold and with a human body like yours, you are apparently no match to it.
despite your family’s best efforts to break it, you’re strong-willed, opinionated, and at best too stubborn for most to handle.
but this golden venom?
you are no match for it.
“you’re playing dirty, again.” you cursed out the witch-knight. she feeds on you, injects you with her magic, and makes you feel unspeakable things. “get on with it, witch. please yourself and me as you may, but my promises will last longer than a fortnight. this will be the last time.”
“darling, you always say it will be the last yet you beckon for me to guard your door every night only to drag me into your silk sheets, my face shoved beneath your gown—”
“quite the mouth, violet.”
“would you like a reminder? you’re taking my fingers splendidly but whose to say you wouldn’t revel in the refreshment of my tongue?” violet whispers, her voice low and her chin dripping with your blood. “don’t you remember? i had to stuff you with your delicates. you’re quiet difficult to shut up, princess.
when you wish to be quick about her scorned tongue, she curls inside you, her teeth scrapping against your thigh knowing it will do nothing but set you off. violet grins as your naked form bathed in the stars, breast gleaming with her spit, the rise of your chest stuck in a stutter—you’ll give her everything she requires for the evening.
“darling, you don’t need it all, do you? my fingers are enough now that you can feel me coursing through your veins.” violet kisses along your body. the marking of your blood on her lips causes your entire body to shiver. “they call me a witch, the fallen angel who sings for the devil, and let’s not forget—the chosen sinner. between you and me princess, i’m fond of them all. truly, my darling, if i’m everything they say i am, how can someone so royal and defined by the highest of saints enjoy the company of the fallen? how can you let the sinner fuck the saint out of you, princess?”
you allow yourself to look in her crimson gaze, and it all comes crumbling in an instant. violet pushes you through the best of it, before her mouth cleans up every drop as you cry out for more. violet suckles on your breast as you clench around her steady hand, making matters worse for wear.
“sir violet, never stop. make me feel—” violet doesn’t let you speak the words as she slithers down your body. with fate on the sinner’s time, she circles her sweet tongue along your coveted lips, slipping inside until your properly fucking yourself against her.
sir violet vanderson seals your own fate with tricky words once again. a spell being cast, but you’ve found yourself quite endeared by the haze of her relentless magic.
“don’t be mistaken again, princess. i may be a witch but you don’t belong to the kingdom. you’d be wise to remember the blood in your veins belongs in the back of my throat, on the meat of my tongue, and my venom through your veins.”
you moan for her, but you don’t tell her to stop, violet’s name is the only one you call.
“remember when they bring some lord for you, a prince, a king even. whoever your sister chooses, i will gleefully paint the palace walls with their blood. my sweet princess, you are everything and nothing will stop me from making you mine, forever.”
No ceremony, much less crowd. Just a pale stretch of packed earth and cold air biting at your skin. You’d summoned Vi without explanation—only a gesture toward the courtyard and a single order:
“Bring your sword.”
She arrived on time. Not early, not late. No armor that day—just leathers, worn but cared for, and that same silent composure that seemed to irritate every advisor you had. Vi gave a small bow, eyes narrowed as they flicked to the blades waiting on the rack.
“You planning to kill me this early in your reign?” she asked with a certain wariness in her voice.
“If I were, I wouldn’t do it myself,” you said, picking a blade and testing its weight. “This is something else.”
“A test,” she said flatly.
You met her eyes over your shoulder. “A truth.”
That earned you the smallest twitch at the corner of Vi's mouth.
You both moved without speaking, choosing opposite ends of the ring. The guards you trusted most stood at a respectful distance, uncertain if this was punishment or entertainment. You gave them no explanation. They didn’t need one.
You drew your sword.
So did she.
The first clash was brutal. No warm-up or warnings. Just the screech of steel and the jolt of impact in your wrists. Vi met your blow, parried cleanly, and pivoted—blades sliding apart with a hiss as she came at you again, low and fast.
You’d fought before. In skirmishes, in training halls, in staged battles where everyone remembered you were a monarch first and a combatant second.
Vi didn’t treat you like a monarch. She treated you like an opponent.
She fought like she didn’t care who you were.
And it thrilled you.
Every movement was efficient, made to disable, not flatter. The edge of her boot caught your knee and you staggered, teeth bared. Not from pain, from the rush.
She was fast. But more than that—precise, better than you’d hoped.
You struck again. She slipped the blow, countered with a feint that would’ve split your ribs if you’d been half a second slower. Her sword kissed your shoulder—a graze that allowed a crimson thread to slide down your white linen shirt.
A grimace between surprise and slight bewilderment appeared on your face for a few seconds, but that gesture contained a growing smirk behind it.
Vi noticed and that earned you a flash of raw interest in her eyes before she lunged again.
The guards snapped to attention at the unexpected fight. At the sight of your wound—small, yet disturbingly vivid—they sharpened their instincts as if a blade were placed at their own throats. One thought echoed in all their minds, relentless and stunned: How is the nameless knight still alive?
Vi pressed.
Your blades locked again. Faces close now, breathing the very same air. You could see the focus etched into her brow, the sweat on her temple sliding down her neck, the way her grip didn’t shake. Her eyes burned with a fierce, restrained intent—strength and fury caged just beneath the surface. You frowned.
“You’re holding back,” you growled.
“Wouldn’t want to dent the crown.” Vi responded, keeping her gaze intensely fixed on yours, unmoving.
You leaned in, your voice low and certain. “You’re not here to protect me right now. Fight me.”
And just like that, she gave it.
The spar became violent, a subtle beauty surrounded it. A brutal conversation spoken in steel. She struck at your wrist, tested your footwork, hunted for openings with the patience of an adept. You gave her your full weight, your full speed, hammering into her guard.
Vi didn’t flinch, or at least she was clever enough not to.
You drove her toward the courtyard wall. Metal sang as it slammed into the wall, very close to Vi's head. Her breath hitched—but a grin just crept across her face. You pinned her, sword moving towards her chest, your heart pounding hard enough to drown out thought.
“That all you’ve got?” she rasped.
You paused for a few seconds, then you took a step back and lowered your sword—breathless. Your gaze lingered, puzzled by the faint pull of something that could almost be mistaken for delight.
“Tell me,” you said, voice quiet and sharp eyes, “how many kings have you tried to knock on their ass?”
Vi let out a short, breathy laugh that sounded genuine. She wiped her blade on her sleeve without meeting your eyes. “Just the one who asked for it.”
You arched a brow. “Is that what I did?”
“You dragged me out here at sunrise with no armor and no explanation.” She said, finally raising her eyes to look at you. “I figured you wanted honesty.”
You sheathed your sword, still studying her. “I wanted to see your skills firsthand.”
“And?” she asked, tilting her head. There was a glint in her eye now—dangerous, amused.
You gave a slow, sharp smile. “Exactly what I need.”
Vi slid her sword into its scabbard, nodding to herself. “Someone who's not afraid to bite.”
“That's what I hope.”
She huffed something close to a laugh. You caught it. Real and unexpected. You looked at her, truly looked, and saw what no title could give: someone who didn’t flinch, didn’t flatter, and didn’t pretend.
“You’re not just a sword,” you said in a low voice and with a thoughtful gesture.
“No,” she said quietly. “And you’re not just a crown.”
The silence after felt earned. Not awkward. Not soft. Just… solid.
“Good,” you said, looking away. “Because I don’t need a servant at my side. I need someone who can throw me to the ground when I deserve it—and help me up when I don’t want to.”
She nodded once, something fierce behind her eyes. “Then you chose right.”
You stepped closer and reached out a hand towards her. “I always do.”
Vi studied your hand for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. Then she smirked and took it. “We’ll see.”
Knight!Vi who sends Princess!reader letters every day while she’s away at war with little pressed flowers, and reader sends her back snippets of her hair ribbons sprayed with her perfume and folded kerchiefs with her lipstick stain pressed into them. It’s so sickly sweet Vi almost forgets about the increasingly bloodier battles she faces each day, if it means coming home to another love letter from you…
Can’t imagine how excited you’d both be when she finally comes home 👀
the best part is that when she does come home, her armor rusted dark with dried blood, you're waiting for her by the palace gates, and you're thinner than she remembers, but then again, it has been -- months? years? she can't remember -- too long, she knows. she knows.
and there are precautions she should take, rules she should follow, but she doesn't, and you don't -- bc you're flinging yourself at her, tears in your eyes, and she's spinning you around in her arms but she's still terrified that something of her armor will catch on your delicate dress, or that she'll hold on just a bit too tight or --
"my god -- what happened to your hair?" you ask, reaching up to finger at the haphazard strands.
vi laughs, the sound tired and older but still the same vi, still yours.
"apologies princess, not to your liking?"
you press your lips, sniffling as you swat at her chest plate. she drops down to one knee as the rest of the cavalry rides up behind her. your flag is tattered and stained but it's still standing.
"no," you shake your head, taking her face in your hands and tilting it up to meet her athena-bright gaze -- "you know i'd always like it better short," you say, reaching up to card your fingers through the choppy strands.
vi nods, pressing her cheek into your palm.
"you have," she agrees. you bend down to kiss her forehead, ignoring her small noise of protest as you pull away. you run a gentle thumb along her skin before she pushes back up again. behind her, the rest of your soldiers are waiting, a polite ten paces back.
you consider, briefly, stepping away, to attend to your duties as the crown princess. but then vi is biting her lips (they're so chapped, you'll have to apply honey-balm to them later), and your resolve crumbles. you reach out for her hand, tug her behind you as you wave at your imperial advisor.
"i'll take the briefing from vi in my chambers -- tell the soldiers there will be a feast tonight. till then, i'm not to be disturbed. understood?"
your advisor sighing and nodding, stepping forward to take over as you and vi slip away from the gates. there will be time for politicking later -- but, you think as vi hoists you up into her arms the second the pair of you are out of sight, right now, you must reward your loyal knight for all her years of service.
Whether you’re a princess or a maid or whoever you are she’d be stunningggjejdjdjs
She’d protect you with her life istg. Can’t get enough of this woman. And when she’s all sweaty from training??
Or coming back from a battle and seeing you after not seeing you for a while???
I’m gonna collapse🫣
oof oof just thinking about knight!vi laughing and joking with the rest of the young knights, but turning into a blushing puddle the second she meets your eyes in the mess hall (all the men around her start whooping and wolf-whistling until she snaps at them to quit it because it's rude to act like that in front of the crown princess), looking back at you with a shy little smile and a lopsided shrug. you, cocking your head with a tiny wink, going back to listening to your father drone on about foreign politics.
knight!vi coming back from battle, victorious, her armor and chainmail stained dark with blood, the color already oxidizing to an ominous brown-black. there are streaks of something on her face, smeared across her cheek, something dark enough for your question whether it's blood or dirt -- her tearing off her helmet and nearly stumbling as she swings off her horse, her chest heaving.
you're struggling out from behind a row of guards twice the size that you are, relieved tears in your eyes when she finally drops down on one knee in front of you, one of her fists pressed to her chest in the customary salute --
"i'm back," she says, her voice a little hoarse, her words a little breathless, "just like i promised, princess," she adds, glancing up with a particular light in her eyes.
it takes everything in you not to kiss her right then.
instead, you straighten your spine and flatten your shoulders, your voice only shaking ever so slightly as you raise it above the sound of the whistling wind --
"good, and you must remember, you're always to come back to me."
omg how fun...for your time drabbles, how aboutttttt vi + 11:59pm
writing/warmup game <3
vi; 11:59pm --
"princess --"
"vi... just one more dance --"
"you know i can't --
"yes you can -- it's my ball and i get to choose --"
"but no one else knows it's me, princess, and your guard's supposed to switch soon --"
you purse your lips, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. vi shoots you a lopsided grin from beneath her feathered mask, her skin set up brilliantly against the dark plum red of her elaborate suit.
it was a risky gamble, but you're both young and besotted enough to pull it off -- a woman-knight, dressed in a prince's garb, a masquerade ball to search for your perfect suitor.
you sigh and lean in to brush your lips against her cheek.
"find me later," you whisper, fingers digging into the velvet-laden muscle of her forearm before pulling away. you're satisfied to see the color seeping into the high of vi's cheeks, the patches barely visible beneath her elaborate mask.
she bites her lips and you have to fight down the urge to lean in and bite them for her.
"you know i will, princess."
you flash her a devious smile; behind you, lounging on his gold-gilded throne, the king watches with falcon's eyes as you and vi spin apart and back together again, the music's decrescendo finally bringing everyone to a standstill.
vi leans in as everyone around you starts to clap.
"wait for me."
your breath hitches in your chest as vi leans down to press a kiss to your knuckles. you dip into a demure curtsey, lifting your head only to shoot her a wink.
omg Knight!Vi is my newest obsession!! imagine her winning a joust and carrying your favor (handkerchief or ribbon) w her for luck and protection. or crowning you the queen of love and beauty (game of thrones reference iykyk). or both of you sneaking out of the castle in disguises to see the city at night.
-🍋🟩
there's that one post about like braiding ur ribbon into ur knight's hair so they can carry it with them for good luck in a joust and then later tugging on it when u give them a victory fuck u__u <3 /sighs/ truly... the epitome of romance, right there.
no but highkey i do think that knight!vi would absolutely love the way your scent carries on your handkerchief, and in the beginning, idk if you even realize how much she treasures it when you first give it to her -- you have so many, and it's not a huge thing, but she's never felt fabric so soft, and it's got the royal crest hand-stitched onto it (a bit crooked; it was one of your first, so no one can really blame you) but she keeps it close, tucked into her breast pocket, beneath her armor plate so every time she presses her fist to her chest, she can feel it there.
knight!vi rain…..knight fucking vi has a chokehold over me, especially your version of it. obsessed.
ray no its so bad like she's got ALL TEN FINGERS wrapped around my throat alksdxjfosaidhgasd u__u i love a good medieval au and thinking of vi (bc shes so PAINFULLY loyal and good) IS JUST HURTING ME
