#ikepri silvio x oc

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Against the Tide - Twenty-Two

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character of Color) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Previous Chapter: Twenty-One

Chapter Masterlist

Summary:

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know,” Thalia replies, nodding her head sagely. “Go off with him, I mean. If you really love him, there must be something really good about him.”

“Thank you, Tati,” Olivia smiles. “And you’re right. There is something really good about him - there are lots of good things about him.”

Thalia looks at her sister with interest. “Livvy, is he really a pirate? That kind of pirate?”

“Who can say?” She smirks at her sister. “I know that he sometimes acquires rare goods from foreign countries. I hear he’s a fairly successful merchant.”

Read on AO3

“Oh,” Thalia exclaims, looking at Olivia’s ring. “I haven’t seen you wear that in a long time… I thought you might have gotten rid of it.”

Olivia laughs. “I may not wear jewelry often, but I never get rid of any of it.” She thinks then of the little wooden chest full of jewelry upstairs in her old bedroom at her parents’ manor. “Though there are some pieces I probably will never wear again,” she adds softly. 

“What made you decide to wear that one again, after all this time?”

She looks down at the ring. It is a very pretty ring, made of seaglass in a bluish-green color. For a time many years ago, she had taken to wearing it on her index finger, but it was always a little too snug there. Today, she wears it on her ring finger. 

It fits perfectly there. 

“It just felt right,” she says simply, with a smile.

Thalia looks at her a little sadly. “I can’t believe you’re leaving for a whole year.”

“I am,” Olivia agrees, “but I won’t be far, and I’ll be back for your wedding. I promise.” 

“Mama says you’re not coming back to Clario even after the year is up.”

Surprised, Olivia stares at her younger sister. “She told you that?”

Thalia nods. “She says you’re going to go off to sea with… the Captain.” Thalia whispers the last bit, looking furtively around as if afraid someone will hear her. It almost makes Olivia laugh. 

“She would say that, wouldn’t she,” Olivia murmurs. She sighs. “I don’t know what will happen in a year, Tati.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know,” Thalia replies, nodding her head sagely. “Go off with him, I mean. If you really love him, there must be something really good about him.”

“Thank you, Tati,” Olivia smiles. “And you’re right. There is something really good about him - there are lots of good things about him.” 

Thalia looks at her sister with interest. “Livvy, is he really a pirate? That kind of pirate?”

“Who can say?” She smirks at her sister. “I know that he sometimes acquires rare goods from foreign countries. I hear he’s a fairly successful merchant.”

This makes her younger sister laugh. “Oh Livvy, I’m glad to see you haven’t changed at all. I’m really going to miss having you close.”

Olivia gathers her in a tight hug. “You’re welcome to come visit Vora anytime,” she tells her. “And like I said, I’ll be back for your wedding in a few months. Try not to let Mama drive you crazy with the planning in the meantime.” 

“She’s already starting to.” Thalia rolls her eyes. “I think she’s planning the wedding she always wanted for you… and even though it’s not a political marriage, she’s still making a really big affair of it.”

Olivia clicks her tongue sympathetically. “Now I feel even worse for leaving you alone with her at a time like this.”

“It’s ok,” her sister smiles. “I’ve got Papa on my side to keep her from getting too out of control. And I want to hear all about your adventures in your letters, alright?”

“I’ll write to you often,” Olivia promises. “Long, boring letters filled with every little detail about where I am and what I’m doing. You’ll get sick of me before long.”

“That will never happen.” 

--

“I see you’ve been filling Tati’s head with all sorts of fables,” Olivia remarks dryly. 

“Fables?” Mirelle looks curiously back at her. “What do you mean?”

“She said you told her that I was planning to go off to sea with the Captain.” 

“Well, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t planned anything beyond what I need to do for the year that I’ll be helping Vora reestablish their government.” Olivia laughs. “What brings you here anyway? I thought you said you’d never come to my… how did you put it?” She taps a finger against her chin. “My filthy little hovel… I think that’s the way you described it.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know what it looked like at the time,” Mirelle protests. “And you can’t imagine the picture my mind conjured up when you told me you’d be living in a room down at the docks.”

Olivia raises both eyebrows questioningly, a wry smile pulling at her mouth. “And now?” 

“Now what?”

“What do you think of it, now that you’ve seen it?” She’s expecting criticism and braces herself for it. 

“It suits you,” Mirelle says after a moment, taking her daughter completely by surprise. “Has… he been here?”

Olivia can’t help but to laugh at the way her mother has phrased it - Mirelle is looking furtively around as though someone will hear her, not unlike the way Thalia looked when she made mention of ‘the Captain.’ “Of course he’s been here,” Olivia answers reasonably, as she folds clothes and sets them aside in piles to be packed. “He doesn’t always sleep on his ship, you know.”

Her mother tries not to look scandalized. “And he’s going with you to Vora.”

“He’s taking me to Vora,” Olivia corrects her. 

“Couldn’t you just go with Prince Silvio on his vessel?” 

Olivia sighs. “You know very well why I can’t.”

“But---”

“Mama,” she interrupts, trying not to sigh again. “It’s my last night here… I don’t want to fight.”

Her mother is quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to fight, either,” she confesses. “And you may not believe me when I tell you this, but… I am proud of you.”

“Why?” Olivia snorts. “Aren’t I a colossal disappointment? I’m not doing any of the things you wanted me to do.”

“You’re not,” her mother agrees. “But you’re doing the things you want to, and that’s why I’m proud of you.”

Her words leave Olivia speechless. She’s still struggling to find the words to say when there’s a knock at her door. “Come in,” she calls.

“Olivia!” The word comes out as a hiss. “You don’t just invite people into your home without first checking to see who’s at the door!”

“I know who’s at the door,” she laughs, as the knob begins to turn. 

“Oh,” Grimmjow says, standing in the doorway. “Didn’t know ya had company. I can come back later---”

“Stay,” Olivia says, motioning him in. “My mother isn’t company - she’s my mother.”

“It’s nice to know what you really think of me.” Mirelle stands. “It’s quite alright,” she goes on, her words addressed to Grimmjow. “I was leaving soon anyway. The carriage is waiting for me out on the road.”

“I’ll walk ya,” he offers. 

Her mouth is set to refuse him, but one glance at Olivia and she reconsiders. “If you’d be so kind,” she says gracefully. 

Olivia reaches out, pulling her mother into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For what you said.”

“I meant it,” her mother tells her sincerely. “And whatever… whatever you decide to do once you’ve finished your time in Vora, make sure it’s what you really want to do.”

“I will,” Olivia smiles. “I promise.”

--

“There’s my carriage.” Mirelle turns to face him. “I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

“Me?” Grimmjow chuckles. “Ain’t sure what I could do for ya, but whatever it is, I’ll try.”

“Take care of her, please,” Olivia’s mother requests, her voice soft. “Olivia is many things, but she’s never been foolish. If she loves you… if she trusts you, I know it’s because you’ve done something to earn her love and her trust. So please,” she goes on, “take care of her, even when she isn’t taking care of herself. Especially when she isn’t taking care of herself.”

Her words seem to surprise him. He recovers quickly however, flashing Mirelle a charming grin that makes her think she’s getting a little glimpse of what Olivia sees in him. “I give my word, M’Lady,” he offers. “Me, I might be a lotta things ya don’t agree with, but I can tell ya I’m a man of my word. I’ll look after her.”

“Thank you,” Mirelle replies, her smile relieved. 

Grimmjow waits until she’s safely in the carriage before he turns away. 

--

Olivia is waiting when he gets back. In just the quarter of an hour or so that he’s been gone, she’s managed to get all of the piles of folded clothes packed away and her bags set by the door. 

“All ready to go, I see,” he observes with a smile. 

“Mmhm,” she agrees. “Did my mother give you an earful?” 

“Nah.” Grimmjow chuckles, reaching out and pulling her by the waist until she’s flush against him. “She told me to take care of ya.” 

“She did?”

“Yeah.” He wraps his arms around her. “Told me that if you love me and trust me, I musta done somethin’ to earn it.” He leans back, tilting her chin up with his hand so he can look into her eyes. “Did I do somethin’ to earn it, Sae?”

Olivia looks back at him, her eyes lit up with amusement. “You mean to tell me you’ve been going along all this time without knowing?” 

She expects him to laugh too, to make some clever joke about it. Instead, his eyes are serious and searching, and it makes her realize that he legitimately wants to know. “Come here,” she says softly, taking his hand in hers and leading him over to sit next to her on the bed. Even when they’re settled there, sitting side by side, Olivia doesn’t let go of his hand. She links her fingers with his, raising her left hand to his eye line so he can see the ring there. “Do you remember this?”

Grimmjow squints. “I bought ya that.”

“You did,” she agrees with a smile. “It was one of the very first things you brought me back from Vora.” She looks down at the ring. “Why did you buy it?”

He considers her question but not for long, and it makes Olivia think the answer is something he’s already thought about. “You seemed so happy whenever I would bring shit from Vora for ya,” he starts. “I just liked seein’ that little smile on your face… the way your eyes would light up when ya got excited.” He chuckles. “You’re always pretty Sae, but ya look prettiest when you’re happy.”

She can feel them - the little butterflies that haven’t left her stomach since she’s embraced what she feels for this man. “That,” she says quietly. “Since I met you, you’ve been trying to make me happy. Even when I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing, you were only trying to make sure I was always smiling. That I always felt my best.

“Sometimes that meant bringing me beautiful things from Vora,” she goes on. “Little pieces of home, things that reminded me of the place I loved and missed so much. Sometimes it meant teasing me in a way that would make me forget whatever was troubling me in favor of a laugh. It often meant sharing a drink with me, or letting me cry on your shoulder - sometimes both at the same time.” She pauses, remembering something specific.

“I woulda kicked his ass if you’d needed me to,” he interjects quietly, and it’s then that she knows he’s thinking of it, too. 

“I know,” Olivia laughs, even though there are tears in the corners of her eyes. “But what happened back then wasn’t his fault, and I loved that you respected that fact enough to let it be.” She turns to face him, bringing his hand up to her lips and pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles. “I love you, Grimmjow. I love everything about you… even the parts of you that you think I wouldn’t.” She reaches up with both hands, cupping his face and bringing him close for a kiss. 

One kiss turns into two, two turns into three, and it isn’t long before they’ve shed the thin layers of fabric separating their skin. As she always does when he’s fully sheathed inside of her, Olivia marvels at how good he feels. 

Grimmjow holds her close, his hands tightly gripping her hips as she moves on top of him. He is hard-pressed to take his eyes off of her even to blink. 

It makes her feel like a goddess. 

Afterward she rests her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the way his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. “I’m always happy when I’m with you, no matter what we’re doing or where we are,” she tells him, her voice solemn and hushed. “I trust you with my life, and I…” She trails off, her gaze dropping once more to the ring on her finger. “I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of that life with you. Wherever that takes us.”

“Even though you deserve better?” 

She stares up at him. “What I deserve,” she starts, her gaze never leaving his, “is a man who loves me the way that I am and who is happy with me. Are you saying you’re not that man?”

It makes him laugh, the intensity of her stare. “You are one fuckin’ scary woman when you wanna be.”

“But am I wrong?”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “I want ya, Sae, more than ya know. And if you’ll have me, I’ll stay with ya until I get old and ugly.”

“I can’t ever see you being old or ugly,” she laughs. “And even if you are, I’ll still want to be with you.” 

“Might live to regret that,” he warns her, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief as he shifts in bed to hover above her. 

“Somehow,” she giggles breathlessly, “I doubt that will ever happen.”

A/N: Here we are, at the end of this little tale. If you've made it this far, thank you for being patient with me (especially while I worked up the nerve to finish and post this last chapter). I had so much fun writing this fic this time around, because I let the characters tell me how the story should go.

Fear not - this isn't the end of Grimmjow and Olivia's adventures. There will be more of them to come, hopefully in the not-so-distant future. I have ideas for them, and I hope you'll stick around to see those ideas come to fruition.

Thank you for all the likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs - I appreciate each and every one of them.

Val 💙

Previous Chapter: Twenty-One

Chapter Masterlist

Tag list: @chrissie2003 @kryptoniteforsale @pamakali

[tenmasumeragis]

Officially married 15.8.2024 💍

Commissioned an art for their recent marriage!

Art © dskfnsjds @ twitter (seriously please check them out)

[violettduchess]

A/N: I was a wee bit annoyed yesterday at the anon that seemed to be lamenting writers "suddenly" having OCs. So I wrote a short fic with mine because a) IT'S FUN and b) I felt like it. OCs are awesome and we should celebrate the creativity they represent!

My OC Leyla Quinn x Silvio, established relationship

One shot: Silvio and his fiancée on a rainy night in Rhodolite

WC: 1k

The ornate door to one of the royal suites inside the elegant Rhodolite palace swings open, bringing with it the scent of orange blossoms that always precedes Silvio’s fiancée. Leyla herself follows a moment later, shaking the rainwater out of her hair and kicking the door shut behind her. She had already removed her muddy boots before setting foot back inside the grand palace, walking barefoot through the palace and back to the suite, much to the servants' astonishment. Most people would not have been that thoughtful.

“God damn, who knew you’d get rain like this so far away from the sea?” Water drops fall from her like tiny pearls, littering the rich carpet with little dark spots.

The newspaper Silvio has been attempting to read is thrown aside as he shoots to his feet, annoyance written in every line of his face.

“Where the hell have you been?” His tone is sharp with displeasure, loud with irritation. It would have sent many others a step backwards in surprise, flinching with unease.

Leyla doesn’t even look away from wringing out her long, dark hair.

“Down, boy. Watch who you’re barking at.” She straightens up, but doesn’t stop moving, unbuttoning the front of her damp navy blue overcoat with quick, practiced fingers.

“Woman, you said you would be back before dark and that was an hour ago.” He’s watching her with narrowed eyes as she peels off her coat, then turns, walking into the bathroom, but not before revealing a quick glimpse of a white blouse now covered in tantalizing, transparent patches.

He breathes out, collecting his thoughts. Don't get distracted, Silvio. She had him fucking worried. He's pissed. She's gotta know that he was sitting here, watching the storm through the windows, wondering if she was ok. So yeah, stay focused. Focused.

When she returns, she’s hung all of her wet clothing over the rim of the large porcelain bathtub and is now wrapped in a fluffy white oversized bathrobe with a charming red Rhodolitian rose embroidered above her heart. Her hair is still damp with rainwater, a curtain of dark waves that smells like springtime and daydreams, spilling over her shoulders and down her back. 

His breath catches in his chest. She's so damn beautiful.

“I lost track of the hour as I was visiting Oliver in his lab and he was telling me about his latest-”

Fuck staying focused.

“Don’t care.”

Silvio crosses the room in just two long strides, wrapping an arm around Leyla’s waist and pulls her to him, overcome with the desperate need to feel her against him. He ducks his head, closing his eyes as he breathes in deeply, orange blossoms and rainwater, desire and love.

Feeling the way his strong hands hold her close brings a smile to her face. With Silvio, it never feels like he’s trapped her. It’s possessiveness, yes, but never a cage. It’s protection and want. It’s security and comfort. It’s a promise to never let go.

His mouth eagerly travels the line of her neck, brushing aside her hair for better access. Hunger spreads like wildfire through her veins but his kisses also carry something else, something more delicate, something vulnerable and silken within their heated depths.

Leyla grins slowly. “Missed me that much, did you?” 

His “Shuddup” is muffled as he kisses his way up towards her mouth and she starts to laugh. Even now, after all they have been through together, he still gets flustered, reluctant to reveal that tender part of him that she knows is there, the one that belongs to her and only her. 

“Aw, pup, were you pining for me? Counting down the minutes until I returned, each one an eternity as you ached with–Ahh!”

Her teasing is cut off as he swiftly hoists her up and over his shoulder, turning and stalking towards the canopied bed with its red and gold bed covers and gold satin pillows.

“That’s enough out of you, wench,” he grunts as he tosses her down, the sound of her delighted laugh filling the room and warming him more than any fire ever could.

He wraps his long fingers around her wrists, pinning them up by her head. She looks up at him, sky-blue eyes flashing with something just as bright and brilliant as the lightning outside, the echo of her laughter lingering as a smile.

“Hey Silvio?”

He doesn’t know where to settle his gaze. Her hair is a pool of ebony waves around her, her luxurious robe has slipped off of one shoulder to reveal an enticing amount of skin, and there’s still that smile on those lips….

“Yeah?” The word is a rasp from the back of his throat.

“Guess who loves you.”

His cheeks flush and he looks away, his chest rising and falling with every quick breath he takes.

“Goddamnit, sea witch, why–”

“No really, can you guess anyone? Cause I certainly can’t. For a prince, you’re rather annoying and loud and–”

She’s cut off as he lowers his mouth to hers with a growl, stopping her teasing words. More laughter bubbles within her chest as she hooks one leg around his and kisses him back with all her might. She can get away with teasing him like this because they both know the truth: they were two souls adrift in an endless sea of doubt who, despite the odds, have found safe harbor in each other’s arms. The journey may have been long, but now that they have conquered the darkness and the hidden perils of a dark ocean of uncertainty, she knows their hearts are so entwined, there is no untangling them.

He releases her wrists, intending to make quick work of her robe when she catches his face in her hands, holding him still. Her thumbs lighty stroke over his cheekbone as she searches his gaze.

“Hey.” One little word, soft and sincere, perhaps odd to any outsider but to them, it carries a weight far beyond its three letters. It’s the softest part of her heart reaching out to him, saying hello love of my life. Hello.

And he’s lost in the light of her eyes, the dulcet sound of her voice, the velvet of her touch. 

“Hey,” he murmurs quietly in return. I hear you, the word answers. And I love you too.

She smiles and closes her eyes as he leans down, pressing his lips to hers. An unspoken promise renewed on this rainy, Rhodolite night.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey

@mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

@ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics

@justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating

@portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing

@nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

@keithsandwich @ikeprinces-stuff @bestbryn

[bluejay-writes]

Puppy Love Picnic

Fandom: Ikemen Prince Pairing: Silvio/Airin (OC) (You can also read this on AO3 if that's your jam!)

This is a gift for @airin-queenz for the My Ikemen Valentine Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary. I hope you like the story!!

Silvio had been planning the perfect picnic. Everyone knows that the perfect picnic starts with a prime location. Then, add a super soft blanket, good food, and delicious drinks.  He’d be set.  There was no way that Airin could get a better date anywhere. He’d bet on it.

The location was the hard part, but Silvio had gotten Emma to show him this hill that overlooked the entire town, her “secret place”, and she promised him she would stay away from there on Saturday.  She’d loaned him her favorite picnic blanket and basket, giving him a wink and telling him not to mess up his date with her best friend.

He’d even bribed that idiotic mutt to get Yves to make the food. The cat’s cooking was far better than anything he could get in town, and while there was nothing he could do directly to convince him to put together picnic foods and desserts, he knew that Rio was entirely capable of making it happen.

Drinks were something he didn’t need help with. He’d brought some of his favorite bottles with him from home, and he just knew that the sparkling white he’d been saving was perfect for this occasion.

Once he had everything settled, all he had to do was find the girl in question. But for some reason, every time he got anywhere near close to Airin, she ran off, or someone else needed his attention.  It was to the point where he was starting to lose his mind over it.  He hadn’t gotten to see her in days, and he was starting to think maybe he’d read her wrong, and she wasn’t interested in him.

Finally, he ran into her in the hallway, or well, she ran into him. His mind was elsewhere, and suddenly the Mad Dog of D’Avalos was pinning him to the wall. All 4’10” of her, but still she had him contained. He flinched and drew back from her before he realized who it was, and then relaxed all at once with a laugh.

“Spend your Saturday with me, Airin.” He said, just as she said,

“Your Saturday Night is mine, Silvio.”

They blinked at each other, and then laughed like idiots.

“Okay, two more steps. One more… and stop.”

“Silvio, what are we doing out here?”

Silvio chuckled and stood behind Airin with one hand protectively on her lower back before taking the blindfold off, the whole of the city arrayed before her in the afternoon sunlight. The soft sound of her gasp as she took in the view made all of the planning and the stress worth it.  The picnic itself was all a bonus after that, but it was still a bonus he’d worked hard on.

“Can’t a man just do a nice thing once in awhile?” He half-growled in irritation.

“No. He cannot.” Airin laughed, turning to look at the picnic spread out in front of her. “What is all of this?”

“Shut it, dog. It’s a picnic.” He answered, looking at her like she was an idiot as he settled himself on the blanket with a muffled jangle. “Come, sit. I have a particularly nice sparkling Moscato to drink.”

Airin settled herself on the picnic blanket and smirked at him, trailing a hand down his arm, causing him to startle and flush slightly.

“Do you want the wine or not?”

Airin held a hand out, and Silvio poured two glasses before handing her one and setting the bottle aside.  Next should have been offering her food, but Silvio found himself distracted by the satisfied smile she wore after taking a sip of the wine. At least he knew he’d done one thing right for this picnic. For her.

After a potentially awkward amount of staring, Silvio shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and offered her some of the food that Yves had made.  There were various kinds of finger sandwiches, various fruits and nuts, a small spreadable cheese with lovely crackers to spread it on, and even small meat pies.  For dessert he’d sent some honey-pistachio layered triangles that looked like a sticky mess that he couldn’t wait to lick off of her fingers, if she’d let him.

Over the course of their picnic they fed each other bites of food, sometimes laughing over a touch or a fumbled bite, but neither spoke much, until Airin met his eyes.

“Did you plan this yourself, Silvio?”

“I did.” He said, smirking. “Does it meet your expectations?”

“And then some. How did you get Yves to cook for you?”

“I called in a few favors.” 

“For this?”  Airin looked dubious, but was wearing that flirty smirk that he adored. Not that he was likely to admit that to her. Ever. Silvio pouted as he realized the wine was gone. That meant they were running out of time for conversation, and were going to have to pack everything up and head back. He hadn’t even managed to steal a kiss yet. Where were his priorities? 

“For you.” He clarified gruffly. “Wanted you to have something nice, instead of all the hell you’ve been going through with Eyepatch lately.”

Airin smiled in a way that lit up her face, and Silvio felt himself relax just a bit. Ah, right. That smile. That was the priority.

When they returned to the castle, Gilbert immediately arrived, sent a look to Airin that Silvio could in no way decipher, and then turned to Silvio himself.

“I need your help with something, jangler.” Gilbert said, before turning and walking off, assuming that he would follow, the tap-tap-tap of his cane infuriatingly regular.

Silvio winced and turned to Airin. “I know you claimed my attention this evening…”

“Go. We both know what a bother he can be if he doesn’t get his way.” Airin muttered. “Just… come by my room when you’re free?”  She reached out and tapped his nose, smirking at the way he startled from her touch, and then ran her finger down his neck to his shirt collar before turning on her heel. “Get going, lover boy. You know he’ll keep you longer out of spite if you dawdle.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Silvio no other choice than to follow where Gilbert led.  Great, just great. Now eyepatch is making me go back on my word with Airin, too.

A few hours later, interminably filled with Gilbert going over numbers and expectations about business situations that normally would have been interesting challenges for Silvio but were instead something he simply needed to get through in order to keep a promise, Gilbert stops talking and stares at him.

“Why are you so useless today?”

“You’re forcing me to break my word to Airin, eyepatch.”

“Oh, did she have something exciting planned?”

“Perhaps. She asked for my time, and I promised it to her.”

“Did you not spend all afternoon in her company?” Gilbert smirked knowingly.

“Yes. That was a favor she did for me, and I would like to return it and not be in her debt.”

“Ah. So she has something she wants you to teach Emma again, I presume.”

Silvio paused.  That was usually, in fact, what Airin had in mind when she asked for his time.  Something that Emma needed, or to help Emma understand how royals worked.  The two were very good friends, which made sense for the Belle of the Kingdom of Roses and the Rose Lady of Benitoite.

“Princess…” he sighed, mostly under his breath.  He’d hoped for some time alone just the two of them after the lovely picnic they’d had, but if she needed his help with something for Emma, he was still going to happily provide it.  Well, with his usual veneer of snark, anyway. Wouldn’t want the girls getting too comfortable after all.

“Are you done torturing me?” Silvio grumbled, looking over at Gilbert with irritation. “I should go see what Airin and Emma want.”

Without waiting for a response, he stood, and stalked out, heading for Airin’s quarters at the fastest pace his dignity would allow.

Silvio knocked on Airin’s door, startling slightly when he heard her call out instead of opening the door. “Silvio, is that you?”

“It’s me.” He said. “Answer the damn door.”

“It’s unlocked. Come in.”

He was going to have some choice words with this woman about leaving her door unlocked at this time of night, Silvio reasoned.

Of course, reason went right out the door when he saw what was waiting for him on the other side.  Airin, bedecked in lingerie that showed almost more than it hid, lay posed in perfection on top of her blankets like some kind of feast.

“It’s time for the second half of your picnic.”

[fang-and-feather]

Carina x Silvio's Children (Fantasy AU)

Silvio was thorn if he really wanted to have more than one child (he did want to, but was also afraid of how it would turn out). Unfortunately he didn't get time to decide as they had quadruplets:

Vicenzo, Raffaella, Marina and Vittor

Silvio was reluctant on allowing for the spellings of the last two names closer to what they would be in Carina's kingdom instead (and people often mistake these for nicknames and call the kids by the wrong names)

The kids are not identical, although a couple of them looks quite similar, and all of them have slight different powers and water forms

[nightghoul381]

Clavis is a good friend, but a bad influence

@ominousjangling this is inspired by your duckpack pic you sent me ^w^

Luci can't wait to test it out

(it's very rough but I made it in like an hour so enjoy XD)

[bjorkshire-pudding]

Against the Tide - Master List

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character of Color) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Summary:

Olivia is the only one of her parents' children old enough to remember when Vora was home. Her mother was only newly pregnant with Olivia's younger sister Thalia when the long war between Vora and the much-larger country of Clario came to an end. It wasn't a victory for Vora, merely a truce, and one which dictated that Vora cede its ruling power to the bigger country and its former Prime Minister and his family relocate to Clario.

It has been twenty years since she last saw the shores of her home, and she still misses it.

AN: AU wherein Silvio is still the Crown Prince, just not of Benitoite. The female love interest is a woman of color. Grimmjow is human. Please mind the tags and any warnings posted at the beginning of chapters, as they will tell you important things you need to know about the content within.

I'm finally getting around to finishing this rewrite, and I have to thank @batteryrose for bringing my OC, Olivia to life (you can find the amazing art he did here). Please go check out his other art!

Chapter One: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Two: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Three: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Four: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Five: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Six: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Seven: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Eight: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Nine: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Ten: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Eleven: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Twelve: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter Thirteen: Coming soon*

*Chapters will be updated here as they are posted. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic!

[littlekohai77]

Soo..... Yeah... I made another one.

Y'all remember that scene in chev's route where Emma was on a ladder and then fell and chev did nothing and just watched? Yeah, that's where this came from.

Oh and I made this also.

That's Nokto hugging her btw. They have a weird foxes flocking together type of relationship.

Not necessarily friends but more like, the person who carries Nokto back home.

And you can bet your ass that he just wrapped his greasy ass self around her like it's nobodies business all drunk and smelling like "midnight trysts" 🤮. You can't blame her for being annoyed.

[bakersgrief]

Masterlist

(Writing requests open. Rules here.)

My Writing

- Ikemen Prince

Rio Ortiz:

Cock ring and bondage (NSFW)

Wax play (NSFW) (Rio x Ciel) (Ciel is @floydsteeth 's oc)

Silvio Ricci:

Collaring Silvio (NSFW)

Reunion sex (NSFW)

Keith Howell:

Twins!Keith au pt 1 (original au by @ndoandou)

Twins!Keith au pt 2

Keith x Maeve (Maeve is @keithsandwich 's oc) (NSFW)

Teasing Keith (NSFW)

Emma:

Vibrator thoughts (NSFW)

Miscellaneous/multiple characters:

Ikepri x ikevamp crossover (hc)

Ikepri with a lesbian mc (hc pt 1)

Ikepri with a lesbian mc (hc pt 2)

Ikepri with a lesbian mc (hc pt 3)

-Ikemen Sengoku

Kenshin Uesugi:

Pegging Kenshin (NSFW)

Angst with a happy ending

Spanking (NSFW)

-Ikemen Villains

Kate:

Learning to type

- A3!

Juza Hyodo:

Bear Juza

Art

(Comissioned from others, I'm just listing it here to show it off! Links to original posts by the artists.)

Keith Howell:

Bunnyboy Keith (suggestive)

Body harness (suggestive)

Keith bulge (suggestive)

Emma:

Sleepy morning (nonsexual nudity)

Kenshin Uesugi:

Kenshin and his buns

Le Comte de Saint-Germain:

Long haired Comte

Julian Devorak:

Wedding charm

Miscellaneous:

Scylla and Anisa

[flash-exchange]

In a Flash vol.1

Masterlist of works created for In a Flash CC. Thank you for participating!

Status: Updating

June

One Thousand (And One) Kisses by @violettduchess (One Thousand (and One) Kinds of Kisses; IkePri; SFW; Canon x OC; Chevalier, Gilbert, Keith, Leon, Nokto, Rio, Sariel, Silvio, Yves; Writing; Multiple Entries)

[""Don't be afraid… If I have learned something from people around you it is that… 'Beloved' is your true name and it will be your name."] by @dicenete (One Thousand (and One) Kinds of Kisses; IkePri; SFW; Canon x OC; Licht; Art)

a source of comfort . . . by @stellari-s (Sparklers/Firecrackers; IkeVil; SFW; x Reader; Elbert; Writing)

A Taste of Bittersweet Memories by @venulus (Kabedon; IkePri; SFW; Canon x OC; Leon; Writing)

Taste of You by @lorei-writes (One Thousand (and One) Kinds of Kisses; IkeVil; Suggestive; Canon x OC; William; Writing)

July

Beyond Seeing by @scorchieart (Screenplay Challenge; IkePri; SFW; Gen Fic; Sariel, Clavis; Writing; Multiple Entries)

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Against the Tide - Nineteen

Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Original Female Character, Silvio Ricci x Original Female Character Characters: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach), Silvio Ricci (Ikemen Prince), Olivia DuBois (Original Female Character) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergent, Pirates and Princes, Slow Burn, Action/Adventure, Worldbuilding, Angst, Some Subtle Racism, Sexual Tension, Political Subplot

Previous Chapter: Eighteen | Next Chapter: Twenty

Chapter Masterlist

Summary:

Olivia inclines her head to the side. "You really believe that?" She asks, after a moment.

"Of course I do," Mirelle says, a little exasperated. "Why would I say it if I didn't?"

Olivia falls silent for a few seconds. Then, “So if I told you that there was someone I loved enough to want to be with, then… you would support that and encourage me to be with him?”

Read on AO3

“You’re back!” 

It’s the way Thalia greets her, along with a bone-crushing embrace. Olivia hugs her younger sister tightly, then leans back. “And you’re different,” she remarks, peering closely at Thalia. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

Thalia smiles up at her shyly. “I was going to write to you, but Mama said I should wait to tell you in person.”

“Oh?” Olivia raises an eyebrow curiously. “So you have some news for me?” 

Thalia ushers her over to the sofa in the sitting room. Once they’re seated, side-by-side but facing each other, she speaks. “Prince Alessio asked me to marry him.”

Shocked speechless for a moment, Olivia stares at her. “Well,” she says, when she’s regained the power of speech. “That’s certainly news.” She takes a deep breath. “What did you tell him?”

Her younger sister shakes her head. “I haven’t told him anything yet,” she confesses. “He said he wanted to talk to Prince Silvio about it too… But,” she goes on, her eyes falling on her hands in her lap, “I think I’m going to tell him yes.” 

Olivia absorbs this. “Is marrying him what you want?” She asks, her tone light and neutral. She doesn’t want Thalia to think she’s trying to influence her one way or another. 

There is no hesitation in her tone when Thalia answers. “It is.” 

“In that case,” Olivia smiles, still keeping her tone light, “I’m happy for you.”

--

“Welcome back,” her mother says, after they’ve embraced each other. She looks Olivia up and down. “You look the same, thankfully.”

Olivia laughs. “Were you expecting me to look differently?”

Her mother simply shrugs, and Olivia will never understand how Mirelle manages to make such a nonchalant gesture look elegant. She joins her mother on the bench in the garden. 

“Tati told me Prince Alessio asked her to marry him,” Olivia says after a moment. 

“He did.”

“I was sure Prince Silvio sent word ahead about the proposed changes to Vora’s government.”

“He did,” her mother says again, her eyes on the garden. 

Olivia fidgets. “So you know that if the King accepts the changes and sets things in motion, Vora will have its own government - its own ruling party. There won’t be a need for a political union between the two countries any longer.”

“I know that,” Mirelle says patiently. “But this would not be a political union.” 

Incredulously, Olivia stares at her mother. “It wouldn’t?” She shakes her head. “Then why on earth are they planning on getting married?”

Her question makes her mother laugh, but she can’t understand why. Finally, Mirelle turns to face her. “Because they love each other,” she states simply. “And if two people love each other and there are no obstacles in the path of their love, they should be able to be together.”

Olivia inclines her head to the side. “You really believe that?” She asks, after a moment.

“Of course I do,” Mirelle says, a little exasperated. “Why would I say it if I didn’t?”

Olivia falls silent for a few seconds. Then, “So if I told you that there was someone I loved enough to want to be with, then… you would support that and encourage me to be with him?”

Her mother looks curiously at her. “I thought you said Prince Silvio wouldn’t ask you again.” 

“I did say that,” Olivia agrees. “And he didn’t.”

The look of confusion on her mother’s face makes Olivia’s mouth twitch up with the urge to laugh. She fights it, waiting patiently for things to click in her mother’s thoughts. 

“Olivia, no,” Mirelle gasps, when the revelation has dawned on her. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Why can’t I?” 

“Because he’s a pirate, for god’s sake,” her mother replies. “That cannot be the kind of life you want for yourself.”

“He’s a merchant,” Olivia rebuts stubbornly. “Furthermore, he loves me and I love him. Didn’t you say less than five minutes ago that if two people love each other and there are no obstacles in their path, they should be able to be together?” She grins. “Or did I dream that up?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it,” Mirelle sighs. “You’re blatantly disregarding all the obstacles that would be in your path if you attached yourself to that man in a permanent way.”

“What obstacles?”

“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life at sea? Getting into god knows what, facing all kinds of danger and putting yourself in unnecessary harm?” Her mother narrows her eyes. “And how do you know he’ll be faithful to you?”

“I’ve seen proof of that last part with my own eyes,” Olivia murmurs, her face flushing warm. 

The look on her face doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother, and Mirelle frowns. “Whatever he’s told you - no, whatever you think he’s shown you - how do you know that isn’t just a temporary thing meant to lure you in? How do you know that once he knows you’re not going anywhere, he won’t go back on his word?”

“He isn’t that kind of man,” Olivia insists. She pauses, heaving a sigh. “Mama… whatever else he may be - and I’m not going to argue with you about what he is and isn’t - he’s never been a liar. He’s always been truthful with me in word and in deed, and I have every reason to believe he’ll continue to do so for as long as I’m in his life.”

Her mother is still frowning, brows tightly drawn together and her mouth turned down sourly. “Olivia… you can do so much better---”

“Isn’t that for me to say?” Olivia interrupts her gently. “Mama, I know the kind of life you’ve always wanted for me. I know how disappointed you were - and still are - that I didn’t marry Silvio. But that has never been the kind of life I’ve wanted, and forcing myself to live it would only make me miserable. You realize that, don’t you?”

Her mother refuses to answer her. Her eyes are back on the garden.

“Mama, please,” Olivia pleads with her. “Can I ask you to at least give him a chance? To meet him, see for yourself?”

“What could I possibly learn about him that would make me change my mind?”

She opens her mouth to answer her mother, but a voice behind them speaks first. “Tell me, Livvy-Love,” her father starts quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder and waiting until Olivia looks up at him to speak again. “Does this man love you?” 

“Yes,” she answers unhesitatingly. “He tells me that he does… but more than that, he shows me that he does.”

“Does he respect you?”

“He does,” she says. “He… I asked him not to change anything about who he was on account of me. But he’s changing anyway… he says he wants to be the kind of man I can be proud of.” 

“Hm,” her father hums thoughtfully as he processes her words. “And does he take care of you?”

The question makes her smile. “He came all the way to Vora for me,” she replies softly, the smile still on her face. “And when he thought I might be in danger, he ran himself ragged trying to get to me. He knows I can take care of myself in most instances, and he lets me do that… but when I need protecting, he’s always there.” 

Her mother rolls her eyes. “Antoine, you cannot seriously be thinking of entertaining this delusion.”

Antoine DuBois laughs. “Is it a delusion though?” He moves around to the front of the bench to join his wife and his daughter. “Love comes in many different forms, and not all of them are the ones you would pick for yourself - or that someone else would pick for you,” he adds. 

Olivia stares at him, her eyes questioning. 

“To answer your unspoken inquiry,” Antoine says, “I don’t wholly disagree with your mother. If the man you speak about is the one I’m thinking of, then I’ve heard some bad things about him. But,” he goes on, holding a hand up when Olivia opens her mouth to protest, “I know that you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. If you see something - or some things - good in him, I’d be smart to try and see it too.” 

Mirelle huffs indignantly. “Are my words just air now?”

Olivia turns to face her mother. “Just meet him, please… Can you do it as a favor to me?”

“And what if I still don’t like him, even after meeting him?” Her mother looks at her shrewdly. 

“Then I have to respect your opinion,” Olivia answers gently but firmly. “But I don’t have to agree with you.”

“Hmph,” her mother sniffs, rising to her feet. “You’re just as willful as ever.” She doesn’t wait for Olivia to respond before walking away.

--

Antoine and Olivia sit in silence for a long time after she’s left, both of their gazes trained on the garden that her father takes so much pride in caring for. It’s Antoine who finally breaks the silence. 

“Is it true what you said?”

Olivia laughs. “I said a lot of things, Papa.”

“The part about him changing,” he clarifies. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

She considers her words carefully before she answers. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking it means,” she starts slowly. “But he… he says I make him want to be an honest man.” It feels strange, revealing those words to her father. It feels like an admission of guilt - perhaps for vehemently clinging to her refrain that Grimmjow has always been an honest man. 

“I see.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Olivia sighs. “And I know he’s done some things that are… less than savory. I’m sorry for making you believe otherwise in the past.”

This time it’s her father who laughs. “Oh, Livvy-Love, I never believed that.”

 “Fair,” she mumbles. “I guess I wasn’t very convincing.”

“Well,” Antoine starts. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. Although in his case, he’s probably done things he’s proud of that the rest of us wouldn’t be proud of. Anyway,” he continues, “whatever the man’s profession, whatever his life choices, I need to know that he’ll never put you in danger. I need to know that he loves you more than he loves his own life.”

“Is that fair to ask of anyone?” Olivia shakes her head. “Would you ask that of me, were the tables turned and he was your son? Would you want me to be ready to die for him?” 

“I’m not saying he has to die for you,” Antoine reaches out, taking her hand in his. “I’m saying he needs to love you more than his own life. That encompasses a lot of things, Olivia. If the life he leads - which I assume he loves - is something that makes you unhappy or puts you in peril, he has to weigh that against it. 

“If he’s already changing for you,” Antoine goes on, “then I believe he does love you more than he loves his own life… or that he’s well on the way to it.”

Olivia chews over his words for a moment. “Does that mean you’re willing to meet him?”

Her father smiles, pressing a kiss to her hand before rising from the bench. “Why don’t you set something up?”

“You mean it?” She’s almost afraid to ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says. “Leave the task of convincing your mother to me.” 

--

“If I asked you to do something for me, would you do it?”

Grimmjow looks up from the open ledger he’s been working on. “Name it.”

Olivia crosses the threshold of his cabin and closes the door behind her. “I want you to meet my parents.” 

Surprised, he leans back in his chair to look at her. “Me?”

“You,” she confirms with a laugh. She takes the few steps necessary to close the distance between them. His arms meet her, reaching out and pulling her into his lap. 

“Sure that’s what ya want?” He tips her chin up so he can meet her eyes. “I know what your people think about me.”

“That’s because they don’t know you,” Olivia points out, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I want to give them the chance to change all their preconceived notions about you.”

“That so?” He dips his head, burying his face in the fabric of her shirt. 

“Mmhm,” she murmurs. She runs her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp the way she knows he likes. 

“Ain’t fair, askin’ me when ya doin’ that,” he groans. “I’m liable to say yes to anything.”

“I’m counting on it,” she laughs. “I told them that I love you,” she goes on. “And that… that you love me too.” She pauses. “Although I might have been making an assumption with that last bit,” she adds, a little sheepishly. 

This time he laughs, raising his head to look up at her again. “No assumptions made,” he smiles, before pressing his lips to her neck. “I love ya… and I’ll tell anybody who asks.”

His words make her heart tingle. “Now who’s not playing fair?” She murmurs, more bashfully than she’d like to admit. 

Grimmjow doesn’t answer. He’s too busy kissing all the bits of her that he can reach. He squeezes her hips with his hands, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on her skin through the fabric of her pants. 

“Grimm…” She tilts her head back, eyes closed. “If you keep that up, I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Who says we gotta stop?” His words are muffled, said into the skin right above her left breast. 

“You--- were… working,” she manages, her words stilted as he lifts one hand to cup that same breast in his hand, gently thumbing her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“I might believe that,” he chuckles, nudging her arms out of the way so he can lift her shirt over her head, “if ya had left the door open.”

Olivia doesn’t get a chance to answer; his mouth is on her now, his lips closing around one nipple as he gently swipes his thumb back and forth over the other. She reaches up, cupping his head in her hands to keep him close, and to tether herself to something. 

He keeps lavishing attention on her that way until Olivia starts to squirm in his lap. She’s wet, her skin so hot and flushed she feels like she’s sitting in the sun. “Grimm…” She calls his name again, tugging lightly on his hair. 

Grimmjow looks up at her, his blue eyes dark with desire. “Somethin’ ya want, Princess?” His words are playful, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“Yes,” she says bluntly. She wiggles her hips, grinding on his obvious erection and offering a satisfied smile at the sharp breath he draws between his teeth. 

“Tease,” he growls. His hands encircle her hips once more to keep her still. “Ya gonna come outta these, or am I gonna have to rip ‘em?” He asks, tapping a finger on the waistband of her pants. 

Without a word, she sheds what remains of her clothing, taking extra time to fold it neatly and place it on top of his desk. Grimmjow never takes his eyes off of her, even as he unlaces his own pants and frees himself from their confines. When she’s completely naked, he pulls her onto his lap again, her legs straddling his hips. 

“What if someone comes in?” Even as she whispers it she reaches for him, pumping him in her fist just twice.

“Like I said,” he grunts. “Door’s closed. My men know what that means.”

She puts one hand on his shoulder to anchor herself as she raises her hips, feeling his hands steady her. 

“Do ya need---” 

“No,” she cuts him off, knowing what he’s planning to ask her. She smiles down at him. “At least, I don’t think so.” She concentrates on lining him up just where she wants him. She sinks down onto him slowly, her muscles trembling ever so slightly from the effort of holding herself up, until her backside is resting on his thighs. 

“Fuck… just like that,” he groans. He reaches up, his palm against the back of her neck to bring her close. Olivia shudders as the angle of him inside of her changes with the movement, her nipples brushing against the rough fabric of his shirt. He brings her near enough for their lips to meet in a kiss. 

She braces her hands on his shoulders in preparation to move, but his other hand on her hip stops her. Quizzically, she breaks the kiss to look down at him. 

“Just stay like that for a little bit,” he tells her, that indolent grin she loves so much on his lips. “Be still and let me touch ya.”

She obliges him, watching him watch her as his hands roam over her naked skin. Slowly, almost reverently, he cups her breasts in his hands, lowering his gaze to watch his thumbs moving over her nipples again. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs. It makes her twitch around him. 

She’s briefly disappointed when one hand falls away from her left breast, but the trembling in her muscles begins anew as he begins tracing patterns along the sensitive skin of her belly. It takes her a minute to realize that the patterns are words - he’s writing his name on her skin. 

He’s watching her, and he can see the exact moment she realizes. “Mine,” he says, his voice low. 

“Yours,” she breathes, her heart fluttering. “All yours, and only yours.” 

Grimmjow doesn’t verbally respond, but she can tell he’s pleased. He continues his featherlight series of touches down her body, wherever his fingers take him - her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her swollen outer lips. She’s trying hard to be still, but she can’t help the way she’s been rocking into him ever so slightly. When he licks his thumb and passes the pad of it over her clit, back and forth, she starts to shake. She bites the inside of her wrist, but a whimper escapes her anyway. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he coos, his other hand gently stroking her back as she comes. “God as my witness Sae, I could die like this. You in my lap, all wet and tight and hot around me…” 

Olivia is still trying to catch her breath when she feels him brace his heels against the floor. “Hold on tight, baby,” he rasps in her ear, and she has just enough time to wrap her arms and legs around him before she finds her back flat against his desk and his hips pushing into hers. There is very little finesse to his fucking, and it makes Olivia realize just how much control he was exercising over his own pleasure to see to hers first. 

The thought elicits a new wave of wetness between her legs, even as she still feels her walls fluttering around him from the aftershocks of her climax. He fucks her through those tremors, his grunts low and and interspersed with praise about how good she feels and how much he loves it. It isn’t long before he’s crested the peak of his own pleasure, spilling into her with a long, satisfied groan. 

“So,” Olivia says after a moment, her chest rising and falling with the effort to pull oxygen, “was that a yes?”

“Bleedin’ hell, woman,” he pants around a grin. “I’ll do anything you want.” 

Previous Chapter: Eighteen | Next Chapter: Twenty

Tag List: @chrissie2003 @kryptoniteforsale @pamakali

[tenmasumeragis]

|| Silvio x OC, please skip if you are averse to it!

Very belated post for Silvio's birthday 🥲 happy birthday you jangly heartthrob 🫵

Art commissioned to _rzr11 at Twitter!

[violettduchess]

A/N: It's been a long haul but it's finally done! Thank you to @lorei-writes for all the encouragement and advice and for helping me take a step into an area of fanfic I never really considered exploring before!

OC Captain Leyla Quinn x Silvio Ricci

Their first meeting

WC: 4k

The sight of sunlight glistening off the waters of the bay never fails to bring Leyla a sense of calm. The brightness dancing along the wavering surface feels like it echoes through her bones, steadying and strengthening her, as real and solid as the wooden dock beneath her boots or the hand that suddenly clamps down on her shoulder.

What the….

With a sharp intake of air, she turns to find Kai, her trusted Quartermaster, has joined her on the pier. The sunlight winks off his bald head and the gold hoop in his ear. Leyla isn’t a short woman but next to Kai, anyone would feel small. He reminds her of the giant Oak trees found in the forests of his native Obsidian: tall, broad, imposing. He gestures with one muscular arm and the orange kraken tattooed from wrist to elbow undulates with the movement.

“Shipwright says repairs will be done by tomorrow.”

Siren’s Call, her ship, took some minor damage before reaching the Tourmaline port thanks to a particularly nasty storm that harrowed them on the last day of their journey. She knew the damage was minimal but keeping the ship in tip-top shape was one of Leyla’s biggest concerns. She had seen firsthand what could happen when a captain became lackadaisical with the care of their ship and when she had become Siren’s Call’s owner, she vowed to never be so complacent.

She shifts her sky-blue gaze over to where the ship is docked. Several figures can be seen scurrying around the deck. She recognizes several members of her crew and grins slowly when she notices Amani, her boatswain, is among them. 

“Amani's got a handle on things, I’m sure.” Fiery Amani from the mystical land of Tanzanite with her explosion of lilac curls and stormy gray eyes sometimes scares Leyla with how well she knows Siren’s Call, almost as if she and the ship share a mind and a soul. She wouldn’t let them get away with so much as an off-center nail.

Kai’s laughter greets her ears like a roll of jolly thunder. “She’s probably the reason they’re almost done, the little terror.”

“Captain Quinn!”

Leyla and Kai both turn at the same time to see a grizzled man with a thick white beard and skin like aged leather approaching, his arms held out wide in jubilant greeting.

“Rumford, you old pirate!” Leyla’s voice is warm with affection as she claps the old man on the back heartily. Kai’s large hand grips his arm in greeting, his smile also welcoming.

The older man’s green eyes twinkle like sea glass as he nods towards the docks. “Ship’s lookin’ good, Captain. I heard ‘bout your troubles with the storm but it seems Lady Luck still favors ya.”

Leyla throws the dark waves of her hair over her shoulder as she glances at her ship and then back to Rumford who is now leaning against one of the nearby wooden pillars.

“Ah, but that's less to do with luck and more to do with the skill of my crew.” Her voice swells with pride. Her crew is her family and it's obvious to anyone who speaks to her how fiercely she treasures them.

Rumford scratches at the edges of his worn blue bandana, shrugging one bony shoulder. “Fair enough, lass, fair enough. Lord knows ya got one of the best…” He pauses, eyes bright as he remembers something and he motions for her and Kai to come closer. “I do have a bit of interestin’ news for ya both.”

Kai can never resist gossip and immediately moves a step closer. Leyla, a bit more skeptical, crosses her arms slowly and grins. 

“Go on then, old timer.”

Rumford clears his throat. “The storm wasn’t the only thing makin’ waves around here." He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "The Red Queen herself was around these parts not several days ago.”

Leyla’s dark brows rise. “You don’t say.”

He nods sagely. “Aye. Ya see, a slave ship carryin’ cargo from the Peridot Islands was sunk not that far from here. One lone crew member survived and he was scared shitless. Claimed the ship moved silent as a ghost and the attack was so brutal it was over in a matter of seconds. All the captives disappeared. No other crew members survived.” Rumford’s voice is a loud, stage whisper. “Folks say that ship and her Captain are cursed but I say, they’re doin’ the angels work, takin’ out scum like that.” He punctuates his words by spitting on the dock. 

He rambles on for a few more minutes before excusing himself with a hiccup and a wave. Leyla watches him amble back towards the ramshackle wooden buildings that make up the portside town.

“I told you one had gotten away.” Her voice is low as she watches Rumford’s frame grow smaller with distance.

Kai crosses his burly arms. “It was dark. He wouldn’t have seen much. Besides.” He turns, mouth tilting in a grin. “That’s what we wear the fancy red scarves for.”

She snorts, biting back a laugh. Kai hated the red silk scarves they all wore on the bottom halves of their faces when they were on The Crimson Scorn. He knew they had to protect their identities. Some of the ships they had taken down belonged to powerful people, black market merchants or corrupt government officials who would love to find the Red Queen and her crew and send them to a watery grave.

“We should be hearing from Morganite in a few days then.” The small country of Morganite was where they had sent those they freed. A contact was waiting for them there and would help relocate all those who had originally been heading for the torment of slavery. 

Kai nods. “I’ll let you know the minute I do.” A seagull cuts a dark figure across the clear sky, its loud call directing their attention towards a ship in the distance, heading towards the port. Even from far away, every part of it screams wealth, from its many billowing white sails to the rich color of its wood.

Leyla squints and then shakes her head. Her disdain for the fancy ship radiates off her like heat waves and Kai laughs, patting his captain on the shoulder.

“C’mon. There’s a pint in The Loaded Cannon with your name on it.”

She watches the gaudy merchant ship for another moment, something uneasy fluttering in the pit of her stomach. A feeling that she can’t quite pinpoint. Like that ship is a harbinger of some kind. But of what....she doesn't know.

“Captain?” Kai is looking down at her with concern in his hazel eyes.

Leyla clears her throat, turning on the heel of her black boot.

“Let’s go. We got some celebrating to do.”

The Loaded Cannon isn’t much, but it has warm food, strong ale and good service which is more than one can say for many seaside taverns. As the sun sinks, painting the sky in dramatic pink and orange, Captain Leyla Quinn is squinting, one blue eye focused with blazing intensity on the crude chalk outline of a person against the far wall of the tavern. Those who are seated nearby or leaning against tables watch, slanted forward in anticipation but not daring to make a sound.

Right……there……

The small dagger leaves her hand, flying with a precision that belies the amount of drink she has consumed already. It strikes the wall right where the painted man’s heart would be with a loud thunk. The grizzled seafarers cheer, sloshing their ale as they raise their mugs in a toast. Leyla whoops with joy, throwing her arm up in celebration before reaching for her own tankard and taking a long, deep pull.

“And that’s how you do it, folks!” Her eyes shine as she sets down her mug, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and laughing at a joke one of the craggy patrons makes about never messing with Captain Quinn.

“You’re good."

A voice cuts through the crowd and she turns, her radiant exuberance slowly shifting from smile to frown as a stranger approaches. In the hush that falls over the tavern, she can hear the sound of his ornate clothing jangling before he even steps into the hazy orange light of the overhead lantern.

Even in the dim room his blue eyes gleam like molten sapphire.

“But I’m better.”

Heat swarms inside her veins, an immediate buzzing that has her straightening her shoulders, lifting her chin as he comes fully into view. He is staggeringly handsome with pale hair the color of moonlight and a face made to be sculpted in marble. His body is long and lean, lines that beg the eye to follow them. His lips are quirked in a smile painted in equal shades arrogance and confidence. A smile that has her suck in a breath and there it sticks, right in her chest, as she finds herself locked into that brilliant gaze.

She could drown in all that blue, sink into it like a wrecked ship into the hungry ocean, all without putting up a fight.

Attraction has unexpectedly roared like a beast unearthed, sinking its claws into her heart and stomach, driving heat across her skin.

But she is also very aware of her surroundings, of the many gazes jumping with bright interest between her and this tall stranger with golden jewelry that drinks in the ochre light.

Fighting the shocking tidal wave of sudden desire he has unleashed, she slips into a pose of casual interest, her head tilted as she regards him, hoping in the back of her mind that she has managed to look mildly intrigued.

“Aren’t we sure of ourselves,” she says loudly, lifting her mug of ale and taking a sip, grateful for the cool rush of liquid. Her eyes never leave the stranger and he seems amused, head cocked to one side, waiting to see what she’ll do.

She sets down her tankard, turning to face him fully. “You have a very loud bark, sea dog. And it’s my experience that dogs that yap the loudest are the least dangerous.”

A collective chuckle rolls through the patrons as they continue watching the exchange. It gives Leyla a boost of confidence as she winks at the sailor seated just to her right, a gesture of comradery and conspiracy. 

The stranger grins slowly, placing a hand on his hip.

“Brave enough to make a bet of it, lady?”

Leyla scoffs. “I don’t make bets with strangers.”

He takes a step closer, looking at her as if she is the only person in the whole tavern.

“We ain't strangers. We’ve been talkin’ for at least a minute.”

“You can take him!”, one of the men calls from the back and the patrons all nod, yelling their support, some banging their mugs on the scarred wooden tables.

Leyla glances around, bolstered by the sight of so many supportive grins, then turns back to the pale-haired man. Alright then. This may be a way to temper some of the heat tornadoing through her. Focus that energy on competition.

“What’s your bet?”

He reaches up, rubbing his chin as if in thought. She can’t help but notice his hands. What a paradox they seem to be. He has the calloused palms of a sailor but with long, elegant fingers bedecked in a variety of expensive rings.

“One throw. Whoever gets closest to the center of the heart, wins. When I win….” There’s a pause as he allows himself the liberty of drinking in the sight of her, from her knee-high black boots to the ends of her wavy ebon hair. “.....you kiss me.”

The patrons in the tavern roar, some with protective annoyance, others with astounded delight. There are an equal number of “Now wait a minutes” mixed in with “He’s got guts, I tell ya.”

That tornado she was hoping to temper rips through her at the thought.

Goddamn it.

Leyla holds up her hand to quiet the room, ignoring the wild hammering of her heart and keeping her breathing as even as possible. However confident this man is, she knows her own skill with a dagger.

“And when I win….” She pauses, imitating the way he looked at her a moment before, then smiles slowly. “I get that fancy sword of yours.”

His hand automatically comes up the sword at his hip, to touch the beautiful gold hilt inlaid with elegant azure gemstones. She’s struck a nerve, picking something that obviously holds value to him. Their gazes meet and lock, like the antlers of stags locked in combat.

“It’s a bet.” His voice is light, easygoing but she notices the way his hand is still possessively wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Ladies first.”

She reaches down, slipping her fingers into the inside of her boot and removes the dagger she has carried with her ever since her first journey across the sea. She has wielded it a thousand times, knows its heft, its dynamics, its length. She could throw it with her eyes bound and it would hit its mark.

The patrons hold their breath. Never has she experienced the tavern as quiet as it is now. She turns, facing the chalky outline of the man on the wooden wall.

The only sign of nervousness is the slight press of her lips, the thin line they form as she breathes in deeply.

Once.

Twice.

And then she throws. The dagger sails from her hand as sure and steady an arrow from Diana’s bow where it lands with a satisfying thunk right where the man’s heart would be. The tavern erupts into cheers and she feels a wave of pure relief wash over her as she steps aside, unable to keep from grinning. 

There’s no way–

He moves with the litheness of a predator, elegance and unbelievable speed blending together in the extension of his arm as his jeweled dagger flies towards the outline. There is another thunk, followed by the hollow thud of Leyla’s dagger as it is dislodged from the wall and falls in a dramatic swoon to the dusty floorboards. In its place, the silver and sapphire dagger gleams victorious.

The tavern erupts again, this time louder than before. It sounds like one loud roar as patrons jump up, some cheering, some in shock, some even clapping this stranger in his elegant clothing on the shoulder.

Well, fuck. 

He passes her, going to retrieve the daggers and she’s hit with the smell of sea salt and something else, something tangy and expensive. Her heart thunders in her chest as the crowd around her calls out teasing words and praise for them both.

The stranger flashes her a smile, all white teeth and triumph, as he holds out her dagger to her, hilt first.

“Told ya,” he says in a low, infuriatingly attractive whisper.

She takes the dagger from him with a loud exhale. She can’t help but notice the eager look on many of the patron’s faces. After all, she did agree to kiss him if she lost….

“Not here,” she snaps, turning on her boot heel and marching straight out of the tavern and into the cool night air. Losing has temporarily doused some of the heat his presence had ignited in her.

Maybe he won’t follow her. 

He follows her.

And she has to admit to herself….she’s not sorry.

When she reaches her destination, he barks out a laugh. She’s literally marched across the street, stopping on the wooden portico of the boarding house directly across from the tavern. The raucous sounds of the patrons within The Loaded Cannon are still audible as they float along on the cool sea breeze.

“Too good for a room in the tavern?” 

Now they are ostensibly alone, standing in the dim light of the single lantern hanging next to the wooden sign of the boarding house. She thought he was handsome before but now, up close and away from other people, his presence swallows everything else around her, as strong as the unyielding pull of the bright moon on the tide. Has she ever, ever been so immediately drawn to a person like this? 

“I like my privacy.” The word hangs in the air between them, sparkling like a gemstone, smooth as silk. 

He takes a step towards her and for the first time, she can see the effect she is having on him. His eyes are dark as the sea at midnight, his body radiating an electric tension as he draws closer to her.

So it's not just her. He feels it too.

“Ya lost, sea witch. Time to pay up.”

Something inside Leyla bursts. 

Like a sea anemone opening its explosively bright body to the current. 

Like cannon fire. 

Like lust.

She reaches out, grabbing him by the wrist, feeling the softness of his white silk tunic under her palm and pulls him to her, stretching up to press her mouth to his.

Oh……

……..oh…….

………………fuck.

He tastes sweet as rose liquor and twice as potent. She wraps her arms around him, immediately wanting to get closer, drinking him in like he might disappear at any second as something ferocious is let loose. Something wild that winds itself around them. Something blistering. Something that feels like vague danger and crystal-clear want. Those long fingers are curling themselves into her black hair, wearing it like his golden rings. He pulls slightly to shift her head, giving him a better position to plunder the heat of her mouth, to swallow every gasp she makes. And when she groans, he yanks her even closer, like he can’t take it, and she swears she can feel his heart banging like drumfire in his chest.

A loud whistling breaks through the feverish haze and she sees several sailors grinning as they exit the tavern, having spotted them wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Fuck,” she murmurs as the rowdy, ale-drunk group continues with playful catcalls and whistles. Drawing a deep breath, she tilts her head to meet his gaze straight on. “Let’s go to my room.” She starts to reach for his hand but then stops. “I mean….if you want to.” Maybe he doesn’t want to go any further. She shouldn’t assume–

He grins and the sight of it has her heart resume beating at breakneck speed.

“If ya think my answer is gonna be anything except ‘yes, immediately’--” He’s cut off by her yanking him through the doors of the boarding house, hand now held confidently and very firmly in hers.

She kisses not with lips and tongue, but with fire. 

Silvio didn’t see her when he walked into The Loaded Cannon. He heard her. A laugh that broke through the smoky din like a burst of sunlight through faded gray clouds. It immediately turned his head, diverting him from his mission to see what he could find out about the captain he would be meeting with tomorrow concerning his trip to Pyrite.

That laughter wound its way through the air, danced over the rumble of low voices, the drunken cheers, the mumbles until he found its source. She was standing, shoulders back, stance wide, wavy hair the color of a moonless midnight sky falling in waves past her shoulders, and a grin so cocky he felt his own lips curving upwards in response. She was jerking her thumb towards the wall where a dagger was embedded within the outline of a person, defying anyone to deny what skill a throw like that would take.

She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There wasn’t any physical feature that stood out as extraordinary. And yet here he was, unable to tear his gaze away from her. He watched as she lifted her tankard, turning in a way that he got a good look at the pale blue of her eyes, the cloudless sky at midday, and he noticed the small black beauty mark at the corner of her left eye. His fingers curled with the sudden, inexplicable urge to touch it.

“And that’s how you do it, folks!” Her voice surprised him. Deeper than he expected, huskier than he would have imagined. He wanted to hear more.

And then he was on his feet, walking towards her.

“You’re good……but I’m better.”

And those five words lead him to this moment, right now. To this woman who has invaded every one of his senses with lightning speed, her fingers brazenly roaming through his hair as she leaves a trail of kisses across his bare shoulder like droplets of lava. A tornado of hunger tears its way through his body, tangling his veins and burning up any thoughts other than how much he wants her, this blue-eyed siren who smells like orange blossoms and feels like heaven under his palms.

Her name…..it doesn’t matter. Who needs something so unimportant? His mouth has other things to do. Like an unspoken agreement, neither one of them has said a word since stumbling into her room. The seconds are for tasting as much of the other as they can, as quickly as they can. They fall in tandem onto the bed, never letting go. Two people drowning and grasping each other as they sink down into the storm of need. 

Has he ever been so lost, so completely immersed in another person like this? Has he ever felt so frantic from just a touch, a sigh?

And then she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist and there is room for nothing else in his mind. Just her. And he plans to enjoy every second he has, swimming in this tempestuous sea of lust and longing, until the dawn kisses the night and the sky turns pale with morning’s glow.

Leyla’s eyes open just as the last blush of peach is fading from the clouds and the sun continues its climb through the morning sky. Her body feels languid with the memory of the night, heavy with satisfaction. She stretches with a slow yawn, running a hand over the side of her neck and down the tender slope to her shoulder, an expanse of skin peppered with the rosy echoes of a stranger's passionate kisses. Her hips are marked by the strong grip of his nimble fingers. Ah, but it can't be just her. Oh, no. His body must carry the same evidence of their night together. She remembers well the feel of his muscular back under her fingernails, the softness of his earlobe between her teeth.

A shiver runs through her at the thought. One of the most memorable nights of her life and she doesn’t even know his name.

She turns towards the nightstand with the intention of checking the time on her pocket watch and freezes.

There, leaning against the wooden night table, is his sword. A parting gift. A thank you.

Her grin rivals the brightening sky.

“Had a good night, did you?” Kai glances at his captain as they head down the street towards the Merchant’s Guild, one of the better constructed and larger buildings in the entire town.

Leyla adjusts her fitted long coat. It is a deep royal blue and decorated with gold filigree, the one she always wears when she needs to make a strong impression. Her blouse is white and crisp and a black leather sword baldric is strapped across her body. And hanging at her side is the sword, its golden handle and sapphire stones winking cheerily in the sunlight.

“That is for me to know. And you to never ask about again.” But she knows he can read her like a seafarer can the stars. He notices the extra bounce in her step, the white silk scarf tied strategically around her neck, the small, secretive smile that hasn’t left her lips since he picked her up.

He laughs as they approach the building, the sound buoyant and warm.

“Alright, alright. Let’s focus on the task at hand then. Remind me who exactly set up this meeting?”

She pauses at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the wide, ornately carved double doors. 

“An emissary from Benitoite has been sniffing around different port towns. Some prince is looking for a crew who knows these waters. Apparently he’s been searching for a captain willing to take him through Blackwater Strait. He’s got cargo that needs to be delivered to Pyrite.”

Kai nods in recollection, now remembering the first time she told him this story. “I only know one captain who is crazy enough to do that.” 

They share a grin and Leyla adjusts the blue velvet tricorn hat on her head, fingers brushing against the elegant white feather it boasts. “Should be easy money.”

They walk in step with each other through the heavy double doors and are immediately met by a slender man with dark curls and glasses. He's dressed in the elegant clothing of a royal adjutant.

“Ahh Captain Quinn, right this way.” He glances at her and then up up up at Kai nervously before leading them down the hallway and through another set of doors that open into a large, airy meeting room.

Kai steps in confidently but for the second time that morning, Leyla freezes.

The man waiting by the window, the one dressed in ornate finery, absurdly trimmed with white and black fur. The one whose golden jewelry jangles as he turns to face them. The one with pale hair the color of moonlight and a face made to be sculpted in marble.

“Prince Silvio of Benitoite,” the aide says formally.

It can’t be……

He’s the prince?

“Captain Leyla Quinn, of the Siren’s Call.”

Silvio’s shocked expression is a mirror of her own.

She’s the captain?

The same word leaves both their lips, at the same time.

“Fuck.”

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey

@mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

@ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics

@justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating

@portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381

@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

Note: If you do not want to be tagged in OC fics, please DM me and let me know!

[xxsycamore]

❄️🎄 SWEET & SPICY WINTERTIME 🎄❄️ ► MASTERLIST

Here you can find all the works created for this challenge hosted by me! (Link to the challenge)

I’ll be updating this masterlist gradually as the challenge progresses! (If you’ve created a work in the duration of this challenge and before the deadline - January 20th - and you can’t find it here, don’t hesitate to let me know!) -> all works are explicit unless stated otherwise!

█ Touching under the blanket

(ikevil) A Little Game - Victor x Reader by @nightghoul381

(ikevamp) A Break to Warm Up - Leonardo x Reader by @fang-and-feather

█ Canceling plans to snuggle and fuck

(ikepri) It's Cold Outside - Leon x Reader by @nightghoul381

█ Cold skin, warm hands

(ikevil) Taste of Desire - Jude x Reader by @nightghoul381

█ The recipe says "Add a pinch of love"

(ikepri) Recipe of Love - Luke x Julie (OC) by @queengiuliettafirstlady

(ikepri) The Secret Ingredient - Nokto x Reader by @nightghoul381

(ikepri) A Pinch Of Love - Gilbert x Silvio x Reader by @scummy-writes

█ Hot cocoa tastes better when shared

(ikevil) Sharing Warmth - Ellis x Reader by @nightghoul381

█ Gift wrapping distractions

(ikerev) Giftwrap Mishap - Zero x Reader by @nightghoul381

(ikepri) Distractions - Gilbert x Emma by @eventinelysplayground

█ In front of the fireplace

(ikevamp) By Firelight - Theo x Reader by @nightghoul381

█ Long winter nights spent awake

(ikevamp) A Lovely Recipe - Jean x Julia (OC) by @queengiuliettafirstlady

(ikepri) Keep Me Warm - Jin x Reader by @nightghoul381

█ Quickies at the holiday party

(ikevamp) Charles x Pureblood Reader by @fang-and-feather

(ikevil) Heightened Needs - Liam x Reader by @nightghoul381

█ Naughty Christmas wish

(ikepri) His Christmas Wish - Clavis x Reader by @nightghoul381

[leonscape]

24 hour wip poll

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly honestly i have no idea what’s going on all of a sudden people were doing wip polls and now i have been tagged 😸

if you want to join, don’t be shy. we shall acknowledge our neglected wips together 🫶

Rules: make a 24-hr poll with the names of your WIPs and then for whichever wins, write one sentence for each vote it gets

(actually i think i’m just gonna finish the wip and then post it lol)

[kaizoku-musume]

Vanity

Entry #22 in @xxsycamore’s Visions of Temptation 2023 kinktober event. I have a brief summary of my OC here for anyone interested.

Fandom: Ikepri

Pairing: Silvio x OC (Rene)

Word Count: 2.2k

Prompts: Mirror sex | Striptease

Silvio held open the curtain in the closet doorway for him and Rene to pass through. After spending all day in formal clothes, they both were more than ready to change into something more comfortable. Silvio quickly lit the lamps-the light from the setting sun was barely peeking through the windows near the ceiling, and he wouldn’t let a second of darkness creep in.

“Remind me again why we decided to stay so late?” Silvio pretended he had no idea as he stripped off his coat. He gave Rene a heated one-over, admiring his lover in the dress Silvio had . . . heavily encouraged him to wear. It was a sexy, bright blue sequin member with a low plunging neckline, the bottom of the vee stopping just above his naval. “Oh, yeah.”

“You know I can just wear this dress whenever you want, right? We don’t have to wait until there’s some event or something,” Rene pointed out.

“It’s not the same,” Silvio said, sliding a hand down the exposed skin of Rene’s neck and chest. “I can’t show you off if it’s just us.”

Rene flushed, but there was something defiant in his expression that Silvio recognized. “Maybe not, but I can’t do this in front of them,” he pushed Silvio backward (a generous way of putting it, since Silvio was letting him), guiding him to sit in one of the lounge chairs. Silvio had a good idea what he was planning, which was always his downfall, because instead of climbing into his lap, Rene remained standing.

He tugged his hair free from its bun, shaking his head so pink tresses tumbled down his shoulders, running his hands through it for extra measure, watching Silvio the whole time. Oh. Silvio wouldn’t have expected this, but it made sense now that he thought about it. Freaky little bookworm liked being watched, and they’d been working on his confidence for a while now-it was about time he pulled something like this.

“Don’t touch unless I say so,” Rene warned when he set his foot on Silvio’s thigh.

Silvio, who was already reaching out to do just that, snapped in shock, “What?”

“Payback for the dress. Remember?” Oh, did he: Rene, panting and sweaty after a very thorough fucking until he agreed to wear they dress they both knew he actually wanted to wear, swearing to get back at Silvio. He hadn’t given much stock into it at the time, though.

“Seriously?” Silvio complained. How was he supposed to resist when Rene was right there? With his dress hiked up to his thigh, just begging Silvio to run his hand up underneath it.

“I can always get undressed the usual way,” Rene shrugged and made to move away.

“Fine!” Silvio acquiesced. It was frustrating, but there was no way he was passing this up. Grinning in triumph, Rene continued the show. He wrapped his hands around his thigh and dragged them down until he reached his high heel. He dug the heel ever so slightly into the inside of Silvio’s thigh as he undid the straps around his ankle. Silvio surprised himself by fighting the urge to press up into the sharp touch. That was an idea for later.

When Rene finished with the straps, he leaned up and said, “Take it off.” Silvio raised an eyebrow at the order, but he followed it without hesitation, one hand braced against the back of Rene’s leg while the other peeled off his heel at the same pace Rene led with. He stared at Rene as he pulled the shoe off, thumb rubbing small circles on the nylon of Rene’s pantyhose. Rene was bright red, and Silvio had half a mind to turn things around, but Rene feeling confident enough to do this in what used to be his least favourite room was too big a show of trust and confidence that Silvio simply couldn’t. Plus, he couldn’t deny he was enjoying this.

The shoe was dropped carelessly to the floor once it was freed, and with a teasing brush of Rene’s foot down the length of Silvio’s thigh, he swapped it with the other foot. He repeated the same process, giving Silvio plenty of opportunity to admire his fluidity and grace. He was particularly drawn to the arch of his back as he bent over, the peek of Rene’s skin he could see in the gaps of the dress.

Everything about Rene was beautiful to look at, though. The way his soft pink hair fell over his face, his nimble fingers working the tiny buckles on his heels, the way the dress accentuated his body, hugging his hips just right. It was enough to distract him from what Rene was doing-until the pointed tip of his heel crept a little too close to his dick. “Hey!”

“I know I’m pretty, but you should really be paying attention,” Rene sassed, all done with his shoe.

“Oh, I’m paying attention all right,” Silvio said, slowly removing the shoe, sneaking in a very brief tickle to the bottom of Rene’s foot. Rene wobbled a bit, lip bitten between his teeth to prevent a laugh from escaping. In retaliation, he lightly dug the sole of his foot into Silvio’s cock, which stirred even more from its half-hard state. It got that smug look back on Rene’s face, feeling Silvio’s cock twitch.

Rene straightened up, both feet planted on the floor. He rolled his shoulders, shrugging the top of his dress down so the fabric pooled at his elbows, exposing his chest. But instead of continuing to take his dress off, Rene sat on the armrest of the chair and swung his feet into Silvio’s lap. He dragged one foot up Silvio’s body, toes brushing against a nipple and tucking into his neck before stopping at his mouth. “Be a dear and help me take this off, will you?” Rene requested.

Silvio had this down pat. He gently closed his teeth on the tiny gap between the edge of his pantyhose and Rene’s toes and pulled. While he was doing this, Rene spread his legs wide and dipped his hand underneath the hem of his hose-untucking himself, most likely. When Silvio had tugged off a good length of the pantyhose, Rene swapped to the other foot, and Silvio dutifully worked on that as well.

He was hoping for the chance to help Rene undress more, but Rene stood back up with nothing more than a sing-song, “Thank you!” Silvio didn’t have long to be disappointed, because Rene slid a leg forward, letting it peek out past one of the long slits in his dress. He hooked his thumb in the hem of his hose and slowly pulled it down his leg. Not what Silvio would have done, but this was pleasing enough in its own way. “I’m not going to let you ruin another pair if I can help it,” Rene said, reading Silvio’s mind.

“Can you blame me? You know what your legs look like with them all torn,” Silvio could picture it right now. There was hardly a more debauched outfit for Rene, who always put effort into his outfits, to be in than the remnants of leggings or tights clinging to his legs despite being ripped full of holes. Something about the fact that Silvio could fuck him half-clothed with just a well-placed tear always got him going.

“Well, not this time,” Rene said with less resolve, catching Silvio’s heated gaze and looking tempted. He brought the condition down almost to his knee, shimmying in place with the motion, before switching and doing the same thing with the other leg. Silvio was confused when Rene stopped with the pantyhose only part way tugged down; he doubted Rene was intending for Silvio to fuck him like that (but wouldn’t that be fun? He’d have to get some lube to keep in this room from now on).

He was less confused when Rene plopped himself sideways in Silvio’s lap with a reminder to not touch. Rene leaned back against the armrest, bent one leg toward himself, and reached down to tug his pantyhose the rest of the way off. Suddenly, it was nigh impossible for Silvio to follow Rene’s request. His  leg was right there under Silvio’s nose, bare skin being revealed inch by inch, Rene’s ass wriggling in Silvio’s lap, grinding against his cock. 

“You fucking brat,” Silvio said through gritted teeth, hands clenched tight on the edges of the lounge chair. “You just wait until you’re done and I pay you back.”

Rene grinned, bright and fearless and full of joy. “Payback for payback? Very original.” When he was done with the first leg, pantyhose dangling like a lifeless snake, Rene hooked his leg around Silvio’s neck in an incredible display of flexibility as he went to release the other one. There was very little the dress was covering now, slipping off his lap, his cock and balls bulging out from his itty bitty panties he insisted on wearing with what he considered fancier clothes. That was about it for Silvio’s patience. Rene could slink out of his dress later-it was slutty enough for what Silvio had just planned.

The second the pantyhose flopped to the floor, Silvio ducked his head under Rene’s leg, gripped his waist, and swung him around so Rene’s back was against his chest. “Whoa, hey!” Rene exclaimed, but it wasn’t quite a protest. He likely knew this was coming after being such a little shit.

“You’ve had your fun, yeah?” Silvio angled them so they were facing a large mirror in the room. “Now it’s my turn.” He tugged Rene’s panties to the side and shifted the dress so his cock poked through one of the slits. Silvio spat on his hand to wet it and began to stroke Rene’s cock. “So just sit here and watch how easily I make you lose your mind.”

“Yeah,” Rene sighed, head tipped back to rest on Silvio’s shoulder while his eyes stayed glued to their reflection. Silvio was expecting at least a little bit of embarrassment on his part, but he should have known better, especially after his earlier display. In fact-

“You vain bitch, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Silvio accused, squeezing Rene’s cock the way he liked, one hand coming up to play with a nipple.

Rene hummed, indulgently sweet, “Guilty as charged.” Of course he has. Rene’s the weirdest mix of contradictions Silvio has ever met, but one constant about him that Silvio can always rely on is his assurance of how pretty he is. Of course he’d take the time to admire himself-he spends half his time in front of the mirror getting dressed, why not undressed as well? 

It wasn’t like Silvio could blame him. Rene was pretty to look at, and he was made for pleasure. Silvio hooked his chin over Rene’s shoulder and watched their reflections, gaze caught between his hands on Rene’s cock and nipple and Rene’s face. His cock was an inch or two smaller than average, thin and prone to dripping with precome. The tip of his dick was already wet, and Silvio spread it down his cock to smooth the glide of his strokes, fingers wrapping easily around the width of Rene’s length. The sight of that cute little cock fitting perfectly in Silvio’s fist, twitching with eagerness, slit pooling with drool, was only matched by Rene’s expression.

Face bright red, eyes half-lidded in pleasure, mouth parted around gasps and moans, Rene was a sight to behold. His eyes were glued to where Silvio was pumping his cock, hips pushing into each upstroke. His focus didn’t stop him from putting on a show elsewhere though: he spread his legs obscenely wide on Silvio’s lap, stomach rolling with his movements, back arched and chest pushed out enticingly. “You’re such a fucking slut,” Silvio said without any real heat.

“Uh-huh,” Rene breathed sultrily, playing it up as much as possible. He reached his arms behind him to wrap around Silvio’s neck, hands tangling in the strands at his nape.

“And the cheekiest brat I’ve ever met,” Silvio sharply pinched Rene’s nipple. Rene giggled after hissing in slight pain just to prove Silvio right. Silvio hid his smirk in Rene’s neck. What a bitch. What a sassy, sexy, silly boyfriend he had.

Silvio watched Rene and Rene watched himself as Silvio worked him over, unable to resist feeding into Rene’s vanity and pointing out how hot Rene was. A “nothing beats the way your cock weeps for me” here and “you look so good when I keep you on edge like this” there. Rene ate that shit up, started losing his composure as he became more and more desperate. Silvio drew it out as long as he was willing, but eventually he couldn’t hold back his own desire to watch Rene come in front of him.

And what a show it was. Silvio was able to hold Rene close and have a good view of his orgasm ripping through him, limbs shaking, hips gyrating as his cock spurted over his stomach and Silvio’s fist, mouth a perfect ‘o’ as he wailed his way through it. Silvio rarely got a full view of Rene coming apart like this, always too close for him to see everything. Next time-

“Next time we’re doing this, it’s when you’re fucking me,” Rene said, matching Silvio’s thoughts. Silvio laughed and pinched his cheek before pressing a kiss there. Rene yelped when Silvio rocked against him, the hard line of his cock grinding against his ass.

Next time would be right now, if they wanted.