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.
This is coming from inspiration from this post and how he probably gets hard when you snap at him. He's realizing too late that your sassy attitude has become a little too endearing, and he's desperately trying to pay attention but his dick has other ideas. He's ashamed of it, but when you inevitably notice the monster in his pants trying to break free, he only gets more turned on when you snap about that too.
Of course, he's the type to start yelling when you start yelling, and at some point, you're both starting to forget what the original argument was about. Then suddenly you're in bed together and now your clothes are being tossed haphazardly and you can't seem to keep your hands off each other and--
It ends with you both trying to catch your breath, covered in sweat, freshly relieved of all that energy and pleasantly exhausted.
Silvio gets very soft afterwards, making sure you feel better and apologizing if he did something wrong... and apologizing for getting hard when you were angry (and that it will probably happen again). Despite letting his dick lead him sometimes, he does in fact prioritize your comfort and feelings and never wants to leave things unresolved with you. That being said, this certainly made him acknowledge a possible new kink...
Arrogance and Rejection | Silvio Ricci x Princess! (Y/n) - IkemenPrince
silvio x reader .
angst / fluff one-shot (2103 words) .
The first time Silvio had touched her, it had been a mistake.
Or at least, (Y/N) had told herself that.
It had started with taunts and stolen glances, with him sneaking into the palace, always confident he could do as he pleased. She should have hated him, that arrogant, flashy, insufferable man. He barged into her chambers uninvited, smirked like the world was his, and demanded attention like a spoiled prince. But beneath the arrogance, beneath the sharp words and his maddening smirk, was something she could never quite resist.
The heat between them had been reckless, secret, thrilling. He kissed her like he owned her, whispered things that made her shiver, and she let him—over and over again. Until, one day, he was just… gone.
No letters. No warnings. Nothing.
(Y/N) had waited. At first, she had convinced herself he’d return when it suited him. But the weeks became months. The months became years. And she had been forced to accept the truth.
Silvio hadn’t just left. He had abandoned her.
So, she had buried him in the past, moved forward, and agreed to an engagement that would secure Rhodalite’s future.
The banquet hall shimmered under the golden glow of the chandeliers. Nobles waltzed across the polished floors, their laughter blending with the soft melody of the musicians. It was a perfect evening.
Or it should have been. From her seat beside her fiancé, (Y/N) felt a shift in the air. A presence. A familiar one.
She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. She could recognize that face, that talk, that smell, and that dumb smirk stretched across his face.
Silvio.
Her grip tightened around her glass as she dared to look.
There he was—arrogant, flashy, and unbothered as ever. His grayish-cyan hair, streaked with blue, was slightly tousled, his coat hanging just loosely enough to seem effortless. His blue eyes, filled with nothing but smug amusement, scanned the room like he owned it.
He hadn't changed.
But she had.
Still, that didn’t stop the sudden rush of anger from rising in her throat as she watched him move, perfectly at ease. Like he had never disappeared.
And then, as if the universe wanted to push her patience further—his gaze locked onto hers.
She should have looked away.
Instead, he grinned.
Bastard.
She schooled her expression, refusing to let him see the flicker of emotions he didn’t deserve. Not after everything. But when he winked at her.
Oh, she wanted to slap that grin right off his face.
Instead, she smiled. A soft, polite smile, perfectly fit for a princess. Then she turned away, lifting her chin and ignoring him.
Let him watch.
Let him think she was unbothered.
Because she wouldn’t let Silvio Ricci back into her life like he still had any claim on her.
But of course, that wasn’t his style, he never took ‘no’ for an answer.
The violins soared, weaving a melody of elegance and longing as the dancers twirled in perfect harmony. (Y/N) barely heard the music.
She was dancing with Leon, her fiancé, his hands steady as they guided her across the floor. He was everything a future king should be—graceful, composed, reliable. The kind of man she should feel safe with. But her mind wasn’t on Leon.
It was on the man watching them.
Silvio stood at the edge of the ballroom, leaning against a marble pillar, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t even pretending to be subtle—his sharp blue gaze followed her every move, like a hunter waiting for the right moment to strike.
Her grip on Leon’s shoulder tightened, trying to ignore him.
“You’re tense,” Leon murmured.
(Y/N) forced a smile. “Just thinking.”
“If this is about Silvio staring at you,” he said, twirling her effortlessly, “I can have him removed.”
Her steps faltered—just barely, but enough for Silvio to notice and grow a smirk on his face.
Damn him.
“No need,” she said, voice carefully measured. “He’s nothing.”
Leon nodded, ever the gentleman, trusting her words without question. He didn’t know the truth. Didn’t know that the man watching them was the biggest mistake she had ever made.
And just as she thought the dance would end without an incident, a shadow stepped into their path.
Leon barely had time to react before Silvio cut between them, smoothly extending a hand toward her.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.
Leon stiffened. “We were in the middle of a dance.”
Silvio tilted his head. “And now you’re not.” His eyes never left hers. “Well, princess?”
(Y/N) knew this game. If she refused, he’d make a scene. He always got what he wanted—if not by charm, then by sheer stubbornness. And worse than that…
He knew she wouldn’t back down.
Leon exhaled, stepping back like a true nobleman. “As my fiancée wishes.”
(Y/N) turned to Silvio, her expression unreadable. “One dance.”
His smirk widened. “That’s all I need.”
Then, before she could rethink her decision, he pulled her into him—closer than necessary. Their bodies aligned in a way that felt far too familiar.
The air crackled.
(Y/N) wanted to ignore it, the way his hand pressed against her waist, the way his breath ghosted against her cheek as they moved. But it was impossible.
The memories of the stolen nights, the whispered promises, all came rushing back, unbidden and unwelcome.
Silvio chuckled. “Didn’t think you’d actually say yes.” “I didn’t,” she said, voice cold. “You took what you wanted, as usual.”
His grip on her tightened, just slightly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is.”
His smirk faltered.
Good.
“I should have slapped you,” she muttered under her breath, just for him to hear.
He grinned. “Still can. Not gonna stop me from wanting you.”
She inhaled sharply, stepping on his foot—hard.
Silvio hissed but barely missed a beat. Instead, his smirk returned, sharper this time. “Heh. You really are mad, huh?”
(Y/N) met his gaze, unflinching. “You left me.”
The words struck deeper than she intended, but she refused to look away.
For the first time that night, Silvio didn’t have a comeback.
(Y/N) exhaled. “You don’t get to come back and act like nothing happened.”
Silvio’s grip on her waist tightened just a little. Not in possession—in frustration.
“Maybe I don’t,” he muttered. “But I ain’t gonna stand here and watch you marry someone else.”
(Y/N)’s breath hitched.
The song was ending.
She should have let go.
But he didn’t.
And the way he looked at her then, serious, desperate, something else beneath the arrogance, made her heart stutter.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
His fingers lingered, just for a second.
Then, reluctantly, he did.
(Y/N) turned away first. Because if she didn’t—she wouldn’t have left at all.
Silvio stood there, watching her go, jaw tight, fists clenched.
And for once in his life…He didn’t have things his way.
─── ─── ─── ─── ─ ⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ ─ ─── ─── ─── ───
The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of roses. Too many roses.
Silvio hated them—always had. He used to grumble about the cloying perfume they left on her, about the way the petals scattered across her skirts when she spent too long in this damn garden.
Yet here he was.
Standing among the flowers he swore he couldn’t stand.
Waiting for her.
The princess always came here when she wanted to be alone. She still does, doesn’t she?
And sure enough—there she was.
(Y/N) sat on the stone bench at the heart of the garden, the silver moonlight casting a soft glow over her. She was running her fingers over the petals of a deep red rose, her expression unreadable.
For a moment, Silvio just watched.
How many nights had he snuck into this very garden to find her? How many times had he kissed her here, pressed her against the vines, whispered things against her skin that made her shiver?
Too many.
He exhaled sharply. Enough thinking.
Stepping forward, he deliberately rustled the leaves beneath his boots. No sneaking this time.
(Y/N) stilled. She knew it was him before she even turned.
Her fingers tightened around the rose stem, but her voice was steady. “I should have guessed you’d come here.”
Silvio smirked. “Miss me, princess?” Her jaw clenched, and he had the nerve to chuckle.
But then, she stood—slow, graceful, with all the dignity of a woman who refused to be played with.
“Say whatever you came to say, Silvio,” she said, crossing her arms. “Then leave.”
Leave.
He had done that once.
And that’s why he was here now.
His smirk faltered as he ran a hand through his messy cyan hair. “Tch. Look, I ain’t good at this kind of thing, alright?”
(Y/N) arched a brow. “Apologizing?”
He huffed. “Yeah. That.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then—“I’m sorry.”
Two words. Simple. But they weren’t easy for him.
(Y/N) blinked, like she hadn’t expected to actually hear them.
She tilted her head, searching his face, as if looking for a trick. “You don’t apologize, Silvio.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking away. “Yeah, well. First time for everything.”
Her fingers grazed the petals of the rose again, as if contemplating whether she should accept it—or throw it in his face.
“I waited for you,” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “You just left. Disappeared. Like I didn’t—like we didn’t mean anything.”
Silvio’s chest tightened.
“I had to,” he muttered. “Didn’t have a choice.”
(Y/N) scoffed. “You always have a choice.”
He snapped his gaze to hers then—frustrated, desperate. “You think I wanted to leave?!”
(Y/N) stiffened.
His voice had never sounded like that before.
Silvio exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Damn it, princess, you don’t get it. I—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.
(Y/N) waited.
He sucked in a breath. “Look. I ain’t makin’ excuses. I should’ve told you. Should’ve come back sooner. But I’m here now.”
(Y/N) stared at him, searching his face for lies, for that cocky mask he always wore.
But this time… she didn’t see it.
Just him.
Raw. Frustrated. Regretful.
Her fingers loosened around the rose.
“…Why now?”
Silvio let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Because I’m an idiot. And because I heard you’re gettin’ married.”
(Y/N) exhaled through her nose, her heart twisting. “It’s already decided, Silvio.”
He stepped closer.
Too close.
She could smell the salt of the sea lingering on him, the faint hint of the cologne he always wore.
“So change it,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched.
Change it.
Silvio reached out slowly, like he knew she could still pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, just barely.
A choice.
For her to take.
(Y/N)’s heart pounded.
She should say no. She should walk away.
But for the first time in years, she saw something in Silvio’s eyes that had never been there before.
Fear.
Not of losing a prize, not of losing a game. But of losing her.
The night wind carried the scent of roses between them.
“…Come with me,” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
(Y/N) swallowed, her throat tight.
And then, she did the one thing she shouldn’t have done.
She stepped forward.
Silvio’s breath caught.
And then she kissed him.
It was nothing like their kisses from the past, nothing like the reckless, stolen touches, the whispered promises they never meant to keep. This kiss was furious.
It was punishment for the years of silence. Punishment for the ache he had left in her chest. She gripped his coat, pulling him down with the force of her anger, of her longing, of everything she had buried away.
Silvio groaned, one hand sliding around her waist as he kissed her back with equal intensity.
He had missed this. More than he wanted to admit.
Her fingers curled into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, and he shivered. But then—she pulled away.
Silvio stared, breathless.
(Y/N) was breathing hard, her lips swollen, her expression unreadable.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, she shook her head.
“…You don’t get to do this,” she whispered.
His stomach dropped.
She stepped back, leaving nothing but the scent of roses between them.
And this time she was the one who walked away. Silvio stood there, watching her disappear into the night, his fingers curling into fists.
She hadn’t said yes.
But she hadn’t said no, either.
And that meant the game wasn’t over.
Not yet.
─── ─── ─── ─── ─ ⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ ─ ─── ─── ─── ───
I guess we all love silvio acting like the pup he is.
Tw: Contains children, traumatic past (light mention),
~~~
When you were pregnant with your first child you believed Silvio would be ecstatic. And he was, immediately you were surrounded by caretakers. The best of the best, not only including doctors and midwives, but also the best guards, and guard dogs Rio. He knew you would want to prepare for your baby as soon as possible, so he made all the arrangements of having the room next to you shared one cleared. And cleaned, he didn't want you touching dirt and dust, you're his queen for fucks sake. His pregnant queen. He learned not to underestimate you, pregnant or not, when you two chose out the furniture for the babies room and you asked him to help you rearrange it to your liking. He told you he would do it after his meeting and came back to you pushing a dresser from one end of the room to the other. Why couldn't you wait, he just-you know what never mind! It took him a while but he eventually was able to be on the same page as you. Soon enough when your second baby came around, you knew Silvio would have some reservations on them. He didn't say anything, of course, but he never heeded to not with you. Even as you saw the twisted nerves of his stomach evident on his face along with his knitted eyebrows as your now 5 year old son approached. Wriggling himself down from his uncles arms, to cautiously walking over to the bassinet next to your bed. You all watched, Silvio held his gaze in bated breath. As harsh memories flooded his mind. They swarmed harsh glares and harsher words, misunderstandings and miscommunication. As much as he was content with how he and his brother's relationship was at present. He doesn't want that for his children. He gets startled as his five year old son jumps back in surprise from his brother's newborn cries. Extending his arm to make sure he didn't fall, which the young boy didn't notice as he quickly made his way back over once the cries died down. You all leaned down and looked tentatively as he turned back around, eyes full of stars and wonder, as he whispered, "can I keep him?"
The water was an impenetrable dark blue where he looked upon the waves. Foam brushed against the once royal blue wood of the ship. Now, the colour was chipped and weathered from many a journey. It was lonely on deck, still he stood proud, his hair fluttering in the wind. Slowly, he stretched out his hand toward the ocean, unflinching as his frostbitten fingers complained.
This night was calmer than any night before. All he could remember was excitement. A little boy jumping on board a leaving ship, a young man – Captain for the first time – stealing a ship of the crown. And yet, in this solitude his heart beat fast.
He had first met her in a dream; saw her tugging him away from eternal light, felt her gentle touch and her sharp nails.
The songs she had sung him still rang in his heart.
She had brought him ashore and followed him since.
There was a ripple in the waves. He fixed his posture and the ocean bore him her angelic complexion. Shakily, he exhaled. She was far more beautiful than any dream could render her.
Droplets flew like crystals as she shook herself dry. Then, she met his nervous gaze and her eyes pierced him right through his chest. Her smile was stunning.
“Silvio,” she called out in that lovely sing-song of her voice. “You look so pretty.”
He blushed and hoped she did not see it in the dark. But her eyes were sharp and the amused twinkle in her eyes told him as much.
“You look heavenly.” He stumbled forward when his ears caught her giggle.
“Heavenly? Do pirates know that word?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “I do.”
At that, her gaze softened. “You look better,” she swam forward. “But thin. Are you still not eating well?”
“´ve lost my appetite.”
“Oh,” confused, she laid her head to the side. Just the way Old Lady used to when he was young. He closed his eyes, willing the image of his old Dalmatian from his mind. Those times were long gone.
“But don't worry yer pretty little head, yeah? I'll eat well soon enough.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
He chuckled. He knew she enjoyed this game, though he was unsure if that childlike entertainment made her believe that he was not in on it as well.
He longed to know the taste of her salt-tanged lips.
“How is your crew?”
“Ah, ´m sending them off soon. They're old enough to deal with ´t all by themselves.”
“But you love them.” Her tone was surprised.
“Aye. But with that growing tension… I don't know if I really wanna continue, you know sweetheart?”
“So, where will you go?” Bubbles followed the sentence and he watched her retreat further into the sea. He grinned. Sweet thing was pouting.
“Thought I'd settle down on that island you brought me to that time we met. Gotta stay with my girl, don´t I?”
At that, she almost flung herself out of the water.
“Really?”
“Course,” He leaned over the railing. “After all, you're my woman, aren't you?”
She nodded, shy.
“Yeah you are.” His eyes were lidded as he rested his arms on the railing. “Wanna sing me a song, sweet thing?”
A bright smile spread across her lips and that alone made all the years of pain and hardship in his life worth it.
I keep thinking of Silvio with his first kid, I feel like he'd end up with either all boys or at least majority boys. But generally thinking how soft he becomes for multiple reasons.
His family life was shit, one parent that manipulated him and the other that openly hated him. No luck with his siblings either, for multiple reasons. He grew up expecting people to only ever want something, specifically money, from him, and it skewed his view on relationships and family so much.
But now, now he has you.
Someone who was so ridiculously honest and and kind-hearted and sassy and stubborn that he had no choice but to fall in love with you. Someone that didn't just want him for his fortune or for special favors, but saw through his difficult sides and defensive nature and need to solve all things with money and accepted him anyway (even if it involved some fighting and arguments along the way).
He never could have predicted having a loving family, someone that treats him like an actual human being and not just a get-rich-quick scheme personified, being willing to touch someone with vulnerability and opening his heart to them. Honestly, part of him expected his work might kill him one day; before you, it probably would have been a blessing to die on the seas with his crew, away from the troubles of his kingdom and the hatred of his family. That, or maybe his thirst would finally consume him, the expensive wines he invested in finally taking him in the end.
It was a selfish thought, because he cared for his kingdom and worked hard to make it strong, that was his responsibility as prince. But sometimes, if he let himself think too long on it, it became too much for him. As much as he spouted that money was all that mattered, his heart still felt differently, and it was killing him inside. But meeting you saved him, in more ways than one.
Bringing you home to Benitoite, introducing you to the nation and the king and queen, getting married, it was all so unreal and like a fantasy. Sometimes Silvio was convinced he was just dreaming a drunken dream, and he'd have to slap himself or pinch himself to make sure it was reality. You did your best to assure him you really were there with him, your love and your warmth was real, but you couldn't blame him for how he felt knowing just a fraction of what he'd been through.
That dream-like feeling continued even as you eventually told him you were expecting, as he watched over the months as your belly grew and felt the small kicks of life. Of course he was happy, but he was terrified, too. Terrified that the only good thing in his life would be ripped away, like so much else, that someone or something would take the last bit of light from him and he'd go back to the half-alive existence he had before. He focused his anxieties into protecting you, staying by your side and holding you close. But sometimes the only things keeping him sane were your touches and your reassurances, reminding him you were always with him, that not even the strongest forces of nature could take you away from him. And he'd melt into your kiss, engraving the feel of your lips and your warmth into his heart so he'd never forget.
Things only stopped feeling like a dream when, after hours of labor and frantic pacing, he was finally holding his son, the newest prince of Benitoite and newest addition to the royal family. Just holding that wrapped, wriggling bundle in his arms, sharp wails of tiny lungs piercing his eardrums, finally cinched it all together. He wasn't adrift anymore, he wasn't ready to die with his boat or from excess drink. He had you, your unwavering love and resilience and wit, and this new life that you'd gifted him, that you'd made together. And he'd be damned if anything was going to take that away from him.
Having a family is foreign to him, a loving partner and a child that seeks him out (he will always think of the first time he heard "da da" and thought his heart would explode). Sometimes many times he worries that he'll do something to fuck it up, that he might act like his father or that you'll come to your senses and leave him for someone better. It takes a lot for him to unlearn these feelings, to work past these anxieties, because he wants to be the best he can be for you and his growing family. But he gets there, trusting in you and in himself that you two have got this, that it'll take more than an army to separate you from the people he cares about.
On occasion, he still thinks about if this is an elaborate dream, although the thought is more one in passing than a legitimate worry these days. But if this is a dream, it's one he never wants to wake up from.
no requests for #10?? a travesty!! can i get #10 with silvio? thanks!
A/N: Here you go anon!
@ikemen-writer you asked for #12 with Silvio so I combined your request with anon's here to get a soft and unsure + gentle, then deeper kiss with the Prince
Silvio x female Reader
WC: 2546
You’ve been to grand balls before. A ball in the Rhodolite palace is a glittering confection of gold and white, walls dripping with roses, guests dripping with jewels. But here in Benitoite, you are surrounded by smooth marbled floors of gray and white, silver chandeliers holding elegant taper candles, and guests in clothing made of expensive silks, thinner than the heavier satins and velvet of Rhodolite fashion. Your own gown is a diaphanous confection of pale pink shot through with glistening silver. A bejeweled red rose pin rests above your heart, a gift from King Leon and a sign of your new status as ambassador. Stepping through the double doors of the ballroom, your heart skips a beat as it takes in the sea of people already drinking from crystal flutes, tinkling with laughter and spinning across the dance floor, skirts floating in the air with every twirl. It is an impressive sight. And it is an overwhelming sight.
Every single doubt you’ve had about coming here, about taking on the responsibility Leon entrusted you with, about your own capability to handle what this job entails suddenly comes crashing down on you. Your lungs freeze within your chest, ambient sounds grow louder and mesh together, the lively language of Benitoite now stabbing your ears. How could you believe a simple woman like you, a bookstore clerk with no diplomatic experience, could take on the responsibility of handling diplomacy. Yes, you managed well with the Rhodolite princes but here, you are a fish out of water, at a disadvantage with the customs, the language, the folk, no matter how many books you’ve read. When a nobleman comes over, greeting you in the local language, rapid fire and unintelligible, you feel ill. You manage a weak nod of your head before making your way to the edge of the crowd, pressing your back against the white walls, wanting nothing more to press yourself into the cool stone and disappear.
I’m failing Leon. I’m failing Rhodolite.
You catch sight of the open double doors that lead out to the gardens and the paths that take you further, down to the docks. With the music throbbing in your head you slink your way through the dazzling crowd until you feel the cool breeze of escape, of freedom.
Just a few minutes, you tell yourself as you step outside. You’ll step away for just a few minutes. Just to gather your bearings.
Your silver slippers take you away from the bright ballroom and the noise and with every step you feel yourself torn. The cool air, the night sky, they ease the tight band that has taken hold of your lungs, allowing you to breathe without feeling constricted. But every step away is a step further from your job, from what you swore to Leon you could do. Strengthen the ties with your allies. Convince the king and queen to sign the new treaty of protection. Convince Prince Silvio to come stay at the palace as a sign of good faith and friendship between your nations. All of these important, if one is to believe the reports coming out of Obsidian, the rumblings of a gathering army and an uptick in weapon shipments.
Before you know it, you’ve passed the gardens and find your feet traveling over wooden boards. You’ve reached the palace docks. The larger royal vessels are all at home in Benitoite’s vast harbor. Here you find only the smaller vessels for the royal family's private use. You stop, taking in the sight of a small, streamlined sailboat on your left, bobbing in the calm, dark water. How would it feel to just…sail away from it all? Nothing but dark sea below and a sky full of stars above, leaving you floating somewhere in the eternity in between.
“This ain’t the ballroom.”
You gasp, turning at the sound of Silvio’s voice. He’s at the dock’s edge, watching you, hands on his hips, dressed in a suit of navy blue and glittering gold and cloud-white. With a confidence you don’t really have, you square your shoulders and smooth down the front of your gown. What did Clavis once tell you? Confidence is ninety-nine percent illusion and only one percent actual mettle. You can muster up one percent.
“I needed some air.”
“All the way out here?” He walks closer, the gold of his adorning jewelry jangling audibly in the light evening breeze.
He stops when he is standing in front of you and you turn away from him, not wanting him to guess your other secret, the other reason you are unsure you will be able to fulfill all of Leon’s expectations. Because somewhere along the way of arriving in Benitoite, of meeting the royals and nobles, and spending time with Silvio during city tours and accompanying him to royal engagements, you have fallen head over heels in love. Suddenly and unexpectedly and maybe even unfortunately. But you are drawn to the prince like a moth to a flame. Yes, he is frustrating and temperamental and materialistic and snotty and far too handsome for his own good. But he is also intelligent and funny and honest and thoughtful and you , against all odds and all reason, have fallen hard.
He can’t know. It would be terrible for so many reasons. So you keep your gaze on the sailboat, breathing in slowly to calm your skittish heart.
You feel his gaze on you, the silence at his unanswered questions curling around both of you until Silvio snaps it, stopping it before it can choke you.
“C’mon.” And then his hand is wrapped around yours and he’s pulling you towards the boat. You stop when the tips of your slippers kiss the edge of the dock, looking at the gap of dark water between it and the boat. Silvio releases your hand and with a graceful leap, lands on the boat’s deck with the agility of a skilled sailor. He disappears a moment, only to return with a wooden board which he slides forward until it is resting on the dock, then places one midnight-colored boot on the end and holds out his hand.
“C’mon. You got this.”
It’s only a few steps but the black water looks ominous, lapping at the sides of the boat like it wants to come aboard too. Silvio makes an impatient motion with his hand, his gaze searching yours in the silvery wash of moonlight.
“I said you got this, woman. Now come here.”
And you do. You lift your skirts and one step after the other make your way across the plank until you feel the secure clasp of his fingers around your wrist. He pulls you towards him and for a moment, you are pressed against his tall body, breathing in the scent of the sea and something else.. something exotic and alluring, salt and spice.
He releases you as if stung, turning sharply and busying himself with pulling the board back onto the boat. Your wrist is imprinted with the feel of his strong fingers and a part of you aches at the loss of his touch.
He motions for you to follow him as he makes his way to the bow of the ship.
“Oh…..” It’s more a sigh than a word as you look forward, across the open expanse of sea that the sailboat faces, seemingly ready at any moment to push off from the dock and go bravely forth across that endless stretch of gently rolling water. The argent moonlight twinkles across the water’s surface, more breathtaking than any jewel in the ballroom. Your fingers wrap around the steel railing as you lean forward, feeling the way the fetters of insecurity and worry and anxiety snap.
“Knew this would work.”
Silvio is watching you, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smile on his attractive face. He steps a bit closer, gesturing towards the water. “I never found a problem the sea couldn’t fix.”
Something akin to shame dims the newfound light in your eyes, drops your gaze to the deck.
“I didn’t know it was that obvious…..” Your voice feels small, especially out here.
He shrugs his shoulder. “You left that ballroom…..not quite like a bat outta hell, but definitely like someone who didn’t wanna fucking be there.”
That gets a small, mirthless laugh out of you. “Truer words…..” You sigh now, turning back to the water. “I’ve had a wonderful time here. You and your family have been the most generous hosts but…..I don’t know if I am made for this. Benitoite is our ally but what happens when I have to travel to Jade or another foreign country that isn’t so friendly? I don’t know if I can handle the pressure.”
Silvio joins you now at the railing. You feel the soft material of his jacket against your bare arm and swallow at the contact, telling your heart to rein itself in. It’s only silk. (Silk that’s touching his skin, your heart whispers in reply. Silk that’s warm from his body…..)
He doesn’t speak and you can hear the faint music from the ballroom floating through the air. After a few moments of quieted melody accompanied by the sounds of the gently lapping water, he breaks the silence.
“The way I see it, either way you’re right.”
You glance at him. “How so?”
“You tell yourself, you can’t, then you can’t. You tell yourself you can, then you can.”
“If only it were that simple.”
“It is. And besides,” he says as he shifts his stance, turning to face you. “I ain’t seen anythin’ yet that convinces me you can’t do whatever you damn well want to.”
Something warm and fizzy corkscrews its way through you at his words, your stomach turning in excited, dizzying circles.
“You really think that about me?”
He looks away so quickly his pale hair whips across his forehead and cheeks.
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he mutters, suddenly finding the railing incredibly interesting and worth examining.
You tell yourself you can, then you can….
His words echo through your mind, buoyed by the music and the moonlight and the water and Silvio’s flustered expression. You reach up, touching his shoulder, curling your hand into the soft material of his jacket.
“Silvio.”
He is forced to look at you and that’s when you rise up onto your toes and, without giving yourself even a second to hesitate, kiss him. It’s a soft press of your lips against his and once you’ve done it, your nerves alight with uncertainty. He isn’t moving. His lips are stiff and unyielding, his hands remain at his sides. Part of you wants to pull away and run, leap off the boat and dash across the docks and back into the sheltered darkness of the gardens, away from what may very well be your biggest misstep ever.
But there is another part of you, one that is louder, one that fights the desire to run. It’s the one that remembers his raucous laughter at your jokes, the way his gaze lingers on your face when you smile, the feel of his strong hand whenever it takes yours. That part of your heart knows that you are not alone in what you are feeling and it is what guides your hand up to cup his face and move your lips, pressing another soft kiss to his. You kiss him slowly, holding his face delicately in your palm, coaxing him to please, come out from behind that wall he’s hiding himself behind and join you. It feels like an eternity before you feel him respond, his lips becoming pliant against your kisses. His cheek feels warm to the touch and if you could see him, you would notice the sweep of color across it, pink as coral. His hands rise, holding onto your waist, grounding himself.
He’s kissed people before. Of course he has. But this….this isn’t satisfying some carnal need or urge to indulge. This kiss has strings that are gently tying themselves around his heart. This is emotions and feelings and all those things Silvio keeps locked up, a pirate’s treasure buried deep inside. But you have stumbled your way to his hiding place, your smile the breeze that blows the sand off the treasure chest, your touch the key clicking into place. And now this kiss is lifting the lid, exposing his secrets. He should be terrified. But somehow…..
He shifts, pulling you closer, his hand sliding around to press against your back. You hold onto the nape of his neck, stretching upwards to meet the movement of his mouth. He’s so much gentler than you expected, leaving space amid lingering kisses to appreciate the way your lips fit together, to feel the swell of your lower lip between his. Your breath is sweet and warm against him as you turn your head, trying a different angle. He adjusts expertly, a sailor used to reading the wind and making instinctual calculations of which way to steer.
You break apart only to rest your forehead against his, eyes closed as you revel in the feel of his strong embrace, the faint music from the ballroom drifting along the air, the melody over the thunderous beating of your heart. If you could freeze time and live in this moment, you would. It feels newborn and fragile but oh so beautiful, a protostar bound for the heavens to take its place as a diamond in the sky. The hand on the back of his neck shifts to stroke his silvery hair, marveling that it really does feel as silky as it looks.
He huffs out a breath. Dio, what is happening to him?
“Silvio….”
He’s not ready for words. Not ready to vocalize what all this means. Instead of answering, he leans down and kisses you again, holding your lips captive with his. You don’t protest. Each passing second has you melting slowly into his arms. He feels your softness, the warmth of your body through your gown, and it ignites something inside of him, a flare rising up into the darkest of skies. His fingers slide down your back, back across your waist and then down to the curve of your hips where he takes hold, pulling you hard against him. You’re not startled, you don’t stiffen in his arms the way he thought you might. Yet again you surprise him, not shy in the face of your own desire but welcoming it. You wrap your arms around his neck and your lips part, opening for him like a moonflower on a silver-bright night.
The storm that hits him at the taste of your mouth sends his heart reeling. It careens overboard, sinking deeper and deeper with every taste of your lips, every sweep of your tongue against his. The surface grows darker and darker, further and further away, no matter how often he gasps for air. There is no escape. He cannot fight the sea of desire you have unleashed upon him. He lifts you, strong hands gripping you, your arms and legs wrapping around him like the sweetest of chains, cementing his fate .
His heart is already so entangled, there is no hope of ever being free again.
okay okay okay so SO SO FLUFFY SILVIO IDEAS i have a lot it was very hard to select one so i kinda combined a few ideas into a general THIS KINDA THING
UHM BUT BUT
how about something suuuuper soft with some dancing and cuddles and and and just something so sweet and fluffy like a big ball of candy floss... maybe mc gets a lil drunk so she's freer with her feelings and gets VERY SOFT AND SAPPY ON HIM
ahhhhhhhh (/▽＼*)｡o○♡
ahh i feel like a hyper lil puppy GJOEGOHREGHJO heehehehheehheheeheheheh
Here you go love! Fluffy Silvio just for you 😊😊😊 I hope you like it!!
Silvio POV x Reader
Fluff
WC~ 1k
Ahh, damn it. I knew I shoulda been keeping a closer eye on you. I swear I leave you alone for one second and you’re so drunk I can hear your laugh from across the room.
Sweeping my gaze through the crowd, I finally see you, surrounded by some of the noblewomen you’ve befriended since coming with me to Benitoite. Your cheeks are so pink and the smile on your face so genuinely happy I have to fight back the jealousy that starts clawing its way out.
You turn your face and meet my eyes and somehow your expression seems to light up even more. I don’t even try to hide the satisfied smirk that comes to my face, knowing I make you so much happier than anyone else feels amazing.
We meet up in the middle of the room and you’re nearly bouncing with excitement.
“My wonderful Prince, love of my life, guardian of my heart!” You exclaim, grabbing my hand and holding it to your heart.
I jerk my hand away, blushing furiously. As I struggle to calm myself I feel you clutching my arm and pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
“Ack! don’t do that. You’re gonna get lipstick all over my clothes.” I grumble. I’m not really that upset and you’re completely unbothered as you start twirling around, dress flaring from your hips.
“Can we dance? Please?” You plead, looking up at me with those damned gorgeous eyes. I can’t say no to you under normal circumstances, but when you’re like this I just want to keep that child-like joy on your face. You’re too fuckin’ cute for your own good.
“Yeah, we can dance.”
I barely have a chance to react as you throw yourself into my arms, giggling happily. You reach up tugging my shoulders down and press a kiss to my lips.
Ah, shit… Everyone can see us! I try to pull back gently but your grip is ridiculous tonight and you keep working your lips against mine, letting you tongue dart out here and there, knowing how flustered it makes me. My face is getting hot, really hot, I gotta put a stop to this. I end up grabbing your wrists, freeing myself from the onslaught and pulling you behind me.
I ain’t riskin’ you pulling that kind of stunt again. I march us right back to my room and don’t release you until the door is closed behind me.
Turning to face you, my heart drops. You’re sat on the floor, looking so dejected and upset and… damn it.
“Why’re you so sad looking? You’re the one who attacked me in front of all those people.” I huff, trying to figure out why you’d be reacting this way.
“But you said we could dance.”
Your voice is quiet, but I can still tell you were letting yourself get choked up over the disappointment.
Letting out a sigh, I drop to my knees beside you. You start to turn toward me but end up hitting me in the face with your hair as you whip your head the other way. You’re mad now, great…
“Can you at least look at me when I’m tryin’ to make ya feel better?” I mumble, reaching out, gently cupping your cheek with my hand and putting just enough pressure to get you to finally look my way.
I nearly burst out laughing as I catch sight of your grumpy expression, but I just barely manage to keep it in. You’d be so mad if I started laughing, but you’re so goddamn adorable I can’t stop the smile that springs to my lips.
“That’s better. I wanted to tell ya that just because we ain’t at the party anymore doesn’t mean we can’t still dance. If we go out on the balcony, you can still hear the music and everything.” I offer, but you still don’t seem entirely convinced so I add, “This way I don’t have to stop ya kissin’ or touchin’ me or whatever…”
Then I see your face morph into a victorious smirk.
“Haha, I’ve got permission now!” You cheer, jumping up and throwing your arms around me.
“Gahh! You little shit! Were you playin’ me this whole time?!”
“Like a fiddle,” you snicker into my ear, peppering my face with kisses.
You wanna play that game? Count me in. I sweep my arm under your legs, rising to my feet and carrying you out onto the balcony.
“I meant you don’t have to stop while we’re dancing. So, you only have permission while we’re dancin’, got it?” I state, setting you down and fixing you with a challenging stare.
The playful look on your face remains as you once again launch yourself at me, locking your arms around my neck.
“Dance with me, Silvio.”
I place my hands on your waist, yours on my arms. In no time we’re swaying in time to the distant music, my forehead pressed against yours. Everything seems to fall away as you rise to your toes and press the sweetest kiss to my lips.
Your eyes are filled with so much love as you pull back it’s almost dizzying. Never before has anyone shown me even a fraction of the love you’ve given me, and you just keep showing me more.
“I love you so much, Silvio. You make me feel so special, so important. I see you and my day becomes so much better just having you there. I can’t believe how incredibly lucky I am that you love me. You mean the world to me.
Affection swells in my chest to the point it almost hurts. When did you end up getting me this wrapped around your finger? I pull you close, burying my face in your hair, breathing in your comforting scent. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier in my life. I feel your arms come around my back, hugging me, and I feel like my heart may explode.
“You’re my world.”
The whisper leaves my lips involuntarily, surprising me almost as much as it surprises you. You lift your head to look up at me, eyes brimming with tears.
My eyes widen and I look away, willing my face to remain free of the heat that I know is dusting my cheeks.
Without a word, you press yourself against my chest, hugging me even tighter.
