#Petticoat Punishment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanderenightmare · 11 months ago

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♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, dehumanization, dollification, patronization, condescension

♡ FEM reader

This is his playroom. It’s got puzzle-piece foam flooring and is filled to the brim with all sorts of different toys—including you. He’s got stuffed animals, pretty dolls, toy soldiers, Lego builds, and a gaming station with all types of fun—and parental safety restrictions, of course, no talking to strangers for you. Your controller is a pretty baby pink, and his a cool camo-green. But today, they’re left on the floor, untouched.

Because today, he only wants to play with you.

“You’re gonna be so pretty…” His voice is as grating as always—synthetically childish, making you grit your teeth. Sitting with you between his legs before the mirror, working diligently.

You look at the floor to avoid your reflection.

He’d gotten you a brand new baby-blue dress and painted you himself—done your eyelids up in matching clear skies, black lashes moth-like and fluttery, cheeks a rosy pink, and lips a sheer gloss extra plump and pretty—no need for tint—you bite them so cutely, they’re already his favorite color. Your hair’s done up in curls and ringlets, so bouncy and soft, beribboned with plentiful white bows.

“This color suits you so well. Makes you look like a cake-topper. Bite-sized. I could eat you right up.” He hums behind you, fiddling with the many intricacies, doing them up perfectly—no rush.

Looking up, the person staring back at you looks no different from a life-sized porcelain doll. Pristine, mint condition, fit to be put behind glass. In your frilly dress, petticoat and stockings. Just like Alice down the rabbit hole.

The only thing that betrays the illusion is the leather collar on your throat and the chain running from it to the middle of the floor. But no matter.

He’s got a giddy smile on his face— chest swelled with pride at his work. You’re his most prized possession. You really are! There isn’t a single toy in this room that can compete with you.

He’s not wearing anything special to match. Bedhead, undressed, still in his pajama pants. Why wouldn’t he be? This is his playroom, after all—his downtime—where he can be a boy with his toy. Though, calling him a boy isn’t exactly right—what with him being nearly in his thirties. Not to mention that he’s about two heads taller than you, with abs like an athlete, toned and chiseled and hard to the touch, hard enough to strain your wrists when he bears down on you. Oh, and that thing in his pants.

You bite your tongue and steal yourself. It would be easy to cry, but he only gets weirder about it then. So you stifle it, even though you look so stupid you want to act like an animal. Tear the dress to shreds and rub your makeup into a mess—scream, bite, spit on him. You’d done all that once before to no avail other than punishments that still keep you up at night. Once was enough. He didn’t play nice with you.

But then again, when does he ever?

“Hmm, think I’m done…” he announces after having dallied with the lace of your corset for a quarter-hour—it’s so tight you have to appreciate every breath. “Time to have some fun.”

He treats you no different from a doll either. Scooping you up into his arms like an inanimate object and carrying off to the princess bed—the one that looks like a girl’s birthday cake with a veil on top, and mountains of pillows all too soft.

He places you down on top of the duvet and it seems to swallow you like an ocean. He dives after, covering you like a fishnet. You take a final breath before he can drown, your hand on his chest, holding him at a distance.

“I was thinking, uhm…” you start, the words coming out odd, barely recognizable as your voice—only noticing now how long it had been since you’d spoken last. “I was…” you restart, but it’s still no easier. His eyes are large and unblinking, staring down at you as though he’s just as surprised as you are to found out you speak. “Hoping we could play… a little differently this time?”

He blinks at the request, having fallen completely still above you.

“Really? How?” The suddenness of his words make you flinch. You don’t know what you had expected—maybe a smile and something dismissive. It had been a while since he’d spoken directly to you like that—and not to himself in absentminded comments about you.

You recover some time, seeing him stare down at you all expectantly in wait. He follows when you guide him into sitting instead of looming over you, putting yourself in his lap—straddling him. “Mh, like this. Maybe?”

It’s a gamble. He’d never had you on top before, nor ever shown an interest in it. Setting aside the time you’d been sprawled on your belly over his thighs, his hand riddled in your hair and his other hand branding your ass with his very own toy company logo.

His expression is unreadable—perhaps a little confused if you were to take a guess.

“Oh!” he erupts with a smile you hope is the good sort. “You mean I play the toy and you the master?” He laughs brightly, falling on his back with a hand over his face, cackling through his fingers as though it were the most absurd proposal he’d ever heard.

But despite his obvious amusement, you still feel it—his toy poking into you from beneath.

He settles after a moment. “Alright then, why not?” Looking up at you—his hair a tousled mess splayed upon the bed, eyes as gleeful as the quirk on his lips. “Who knows… it could be fun.”

He props his arms behind his head, lounging comfortably.

“I did call you a cake-topper, after all,” he snickers. “I’ll lie perfectly still, like a good toy, while you play with me. Sound good?”

You can’t believe how open he was to it. Still a little apprehensive, you nod your head.

And then the game begins…

He doesn’t exactly stay true to his word. But you suppose that would be too much to ask. His head still rests pretty on the pillow with his eyes closed, smiling in satisfaction—for now, sated with your performance. Groaning in absentminded bliss, “You’re right. This is fun~”

But he hadn’t stayed perfectly still like he’d said. He’d reached out when you’d finally begun riding and now his arms keep you snug against his chest, fine-pressed sweaty skin against your frilly bust, more in a lock than a hug. It makes it kind of difficult to do what he wants, but you try your best—knees and toes planted in the mattress for stability as you jerk your hips on his lap. It’s awkward, but riding him like this is still better than the alternative, after all.

You keep your arms around the back of his neck, resting your face in the cradle it creates beneath his chin, panting lowly—eyes closed in focus away from the pain, brows tight with your tongue between your teeth, trying to maintain the rhythm despite the blossoming ache that’s started to spread from your hips down your thighs—another ill sting in the small of your back crawling up your spine. It’s hard staying bent over like this, and your movements are turning sluggish…

There’s a sigh from above you, pitchy and just awful. “Aww, is it really time already?” he whines—previous satisfaction dwindling—bordering on something else entirely now, the opposite and so much worse—boredom with a hint of disappointment—a spoiled child with a toy that’s run out of battery.

You shake your head, burying your face in his neck and tightening your grip, stealing yourself with newfound strength to maintain the tempo you had before while muffling out a desperate, “No, I can keep going—”

He lets out another sound, this time in thought. “Hmm...” It doesn’t give you much confidence—how lax a sound it is—as if he isn’t even close to being spent yet. “I don’t know… You’re so slow. I’m gonna get soft if this is all you got, y’know?”

He starts moving—sitting up. He takes his own hold on your hips, and you know what that means. And you can’t handle being played with, not when he damn near breaks you each and evert time.

“No, wait! I can keep going, please, just a little longer?” you insist, both palms pushed flat on his chest with your round eyes looking at him hopelessly in plead for a second chance—even though you know he isn’t one with the patience to give you one.

He stares blankly back, big-eyed in surprise at your outburst. Though still not convinced it would be worth humoring you. If he was being honest, he’d enjoyed it more than he thought he would but had now had his fill and wanted to take charge as usual and finish the job. However…

Oh, you’re being so uncharacteristically cute today—and that pathetic look of desperation on your face is truly something else…

He smiles deceptively softly, so brightly it reaches his eyes. He very nearly looks innocent like that, but you know him too well—so well that the sight of his lips curling gives you nothing but a churning stomach.

“Okay then, doll. You convinced me.”

Suppose it doesn’t hurt letting you have your way sometimes. You have been on very good behavior lately, after all. He ought to reward you.

“I’ll be your toy a little longer.” He murmurs with a lazy smirk, nose-kissing you—patronizing, as though he’s doing you a big favor.

It doesn’t grant you any peace, and neither does the way he keeps his hold on your hips, rubbing smooth circles into the fat leisurely, letting you know he wouldn't be removing them—it serves as some type of encouragement as you start moving again.

It’s easier now when you’re upright. Holding his shoulders, you can jump rather than buck—up and down, up and down, up and down—it’s simple enough. Or it was for a moment, at least, before he planted your hips down.

“Not like that,” he shakes his head softly. “Like this.” He moves you after his will, wanting you to grind instead—putting you back in square one.

Your movement staggers, and you mask a wince with a moan—fuck, your muscles are so sore, maintaining this movement is enough to make your loins scream, feeling all but set on fire.

With one hand keeping you seated, the other takes hold of your leash and pulls you in close, his lips on the dew of your rouge-dusted cheek—you feel the grin, and like prey threatened by a hunter’s teeth, you shiver in respect of it. “Come on, dolly, ride or die, faster,” he simpers, voice laced with mockery and amusement.

Your thighs are shaking now, tightened up in anguish, begging for a break—soon to take it without your permission. How much you can take reaches a point, and everything goes slack not a second too soon.

“And now you’re done,” he snickers hotly under his breath, planting a kiss on the side of your glossy lips while you exhaustedly and gingerly take your break with a feeling of defeat. He speaks low, and you dread every eerie lick of his words, “My turn to play.”

You want to protest, but you know it’s no use. He’d made up his mind now, and challenging it any further would only turn you into a nuisance—toys are supposed to enjoy being played with, after all—best take it with grace and shut up before he reminds you.

He flips the both of you around with ease, reclaiming his spot—on top. He loves you like this, splayed out beneath him like a puppet—just waiting to have all your strings pulled.

It was good while it lasted, you think—maybe if you get better, you can make him finish and not have to endure what comes next.

“Don’t pout, dolly—that was fun,” he kisses you lips as they start to tremble. “But you suit being my toy so much better.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo ♡ HQ – Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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literaryvein-reblogs · 10 months ago

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Some French Loans in Middle English

Loan Word - vocabulary borrowings

Borrow - to introduce a word (or some other linguistic feature) from one language or dialect into another

Administration authority, bailiff, baron, chamberlain, chancellor, constable, coroner, council, court, crown, duke, empire, exchequer, government, liberty, majesty, manor, mayor, messenger, minister, noble, palace, parliament, peasant, prince, realm, reign, revenue, royal, servant, sir, sovereign, squire, statute, tax, traitor, treason, treasurer, treaty, tyrant, vassal, warden

Law accuse, adultery, advocate, arrest, arson, assault, assize, attorney, bail, bar, blame, chattels, convict, crime, decree, depose, estate, evidence, executor, felon, fine, fraud, heir, indictment, inquest, jail, judge, jury, justice, larceny, legacy, libel, pardon, perjury, plaintiff, plea, prison, punishment, sue, summons, trespass, verdict, warrant

Religion abbey, anoint, baptism, cardinal, cathedral, chant, chaplain, charity, clergy, communion, confess, convent, creator, crucifix, divine, faith, friar, heresy, homily, immortality, incense, mercy, miracle, novice, ordain, parson, penance, prayer, prelate, priory, religion, repent, sacrament, sacrilege, saint, salvation, saviour, schism, sermon, solemn, temptation, theology, trinity, vicar, virgin, virtue

Military ambush, archer, army, barbican, battle, besiege, captain, combat, defend, enemy, garrison, guard, hauberk, lance, lieutenant, moat, navy, peace, portcullis, retreat, sergeant, siege, soldier, spy, vanquish

Food and drink appetite, bacon, beef, biscuit, clove, confection, cream, cruet, date, dinner, feast, fig, fruit, fry, grape, gravy, gruel, herb, jelly, lemon, lettuce, mackerel, mince, mustard, mutton, olive, orange, oyster, pigeon, plate, pork, poultry, raisin, repast, roast, salad, salmon, sardine, saucer, sausage, sole, spice, stew, sturgeon, sugar, supper, tart, taste, toast, treacle, tripe, veal, venison, vinegar

Fashion apparel, attire, boots, brooch, buckle, button, cape, chemise, cloak, collar, diamond, dress, embroidery, emerald, ermine, fashion, frock, fur, garment, garter, gown, jewel, lace, mitten, ornament, pearl, petticoat, pleat, robe, satin, taffeta, tassel, train, veil, wardrobe

part 1/2 ⚜ Source ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Notes & References

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mama-waterlily · 5 months ago

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gothic warlock who makes a pact with an archfey and is forced to wear pretty pink dresses and diapers to channel their power, at all hours of the day, even when not in use

getting a little visit and scolding from her patron if she ever tries to change out of them at camp, having her favorite black nightgown transformed into a pink onesie as punishment

her first scolding is a warning. she's threatened that if she ever tries to take her diapers off again, she has her pretty combat dress shortened to always have her padded bottom on display.

"your little traveling friends already see you in your pretty dresses, you wouldn't want them to know about the embarrassing little secret underneath, would you?~"

on her second offense, a petticoat is added to her outfit and her skirt is shortened. her pink, soggy bottom is always on display and her jeweled adornment on her head is replaced with a big pink bow. her magical braces are replaced with colorful pastel beaded bracelets

a third offense would be a personality adjustment. making her more giggly, bubbly, and far more prone to submitting to others when commanded. her party members whisper in confusion amongst themselves when they wake up to her smiling and giggling to herself as she plays with a butterfly floating around her.

on the fourth and final offense, she would belong to the feywild forever. being fully regressed, completely unaware of her life before. she spends the rest of her days being cooed at and played with by all sorts of fey creatures and looking at the pretty animals and plants that surround her in her new home 🖤

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kimmipettie · 5 months ago

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3/20/25 - 26billws/ 193 - Sometimes in the early days of petticoating boys have the urge to escape, simply because that's what's expected of them. Once they discover the delights and sensations of panties, petticoats and peignoirs, the desire to run quickly fades away.

Our classic Throwback Thursday debuted on Petticoat Punishment Art nearly 20 years ago, in late 2005. Thanks Christeen and Carole Jean.

#christeen #kimmicaption #carolejean

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marzipanandminutiae · 6 months ago

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Where can I find this Victorian forcefem?

Oh man, I haven't kept track of it over the years, I'm afraid. A lot of it follows the pattern of "when I was a young boy, my mother/nursemaid/Female Authority Figure made me dress up as a girl [as a punishment/because they liked girls better/Insert Flimsy Reasoning Here]. and now I secretly like wearing women's clothing while women dominate me tee hee!"

They called it petticoating, pinaforing, or petticoat punishment (some of which terms I think are still in use? but I'm not sure since that's not my scene for a multitude of reasons), and there's a Wikipedia page on it. They exclusively discuss full-length novels that mention it, but I'm sure I've seen write-in sections on the subject from the same magazines that published likely-fictional content on tightlacing, nipple piercing, spanking pretty housemaids, etc.

#ask #anon #n.s.f.w.#history #victorian

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pmamtraveller · 11 months ago

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THE EXECUTION OF LADY JANE GREY /1833/ by PAUL DELAROCHE

This painting is renowned for its poignant representation of the moments preceding the execution of Lady Jane Grey, a figure whose brief reign(just nine days in 1553) and tragic demise have cemented her place in English history

Lady Jane Grey is the focal point of the painting, shown blindfolded, vulnerable, and wearing a striking white petticoat against a dark background. This outfit emphasizes her purity and also distinguishes her from the rest of the characters in the artwork, directing the observer's attention specifically on her.

To the left, two women in waiting can be seen, overwhelmed with sorrow; one of them falls to the ground, unable to witness the event. Their anguish brings an additional emotional dimension to the artwork, emphasizing the sorrow of the scene.

The executioner, a calm yet formidable presence, lingers nearby, ready to execute the punishment. The fact that he is there serves as a stark reminder of the painting's dark theme. The muted background intentionally directs focus to the central figures, with a particular emphasis on Jane. Details such as the straw on the floor intended to soak up her blood.

#romanticism #paul delaroche #1800s art #19th century painting #19th century art

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katyawriteswhump · 7 months ago

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I do, I do, I do 💝

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 29 prompt, fairytale, and @whumpcember day 29 prompt, choked.

Rating: E; WC: 987 CW: sex, knotting, biting. Tags: Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, fluff and angst, sex, fairytale-ish setting, cracky tbh, happy ever after. Summary: Omega Princess, Steve, has been conducting an illicit affair with devilishly handsome woodsman, Eddie. When his mother, the queen, announces an unwanted marriage for him, he has nobody else to run to…

💝💝💝💝💝

Steve stumbled into the forest, with his corset laced so tightly it choked him. He’d not intended to flee in this stupid pink ballgown. However, his mother had announced that he was to be wed to Lord Breedemhard.

At midnight tonight.

He ran.

Now, fear and cold congealed his blood. Mud clogged his silken slippers. Worse, the horses and hounds of his royal mother’s search party drew nearer. He was beyond exhausted, barely able to breathe… and now he scented another kind of beast, barrelling toward him.

They pounced, body-slamming Steve into a patch of fortuitously springy-soft moss. A wild-haired, mahogany-eyed Alpha pinned his wrists, growling:

“What’s an edible Omega like you, doing in a forest like this?”

“I… I…” Steve trembled too hard to think. The Alpha licked Steve’s unbroken mating gland, then backed off, frowning.

“Baby, you’re scared. I know we didn’t arrange a tryst today, but I scented you and now I smell sadness. Don’t wanna play?”

Steve threw his arms around Eddie’s neck, told him everything: “I know our secret liaisons are a game for you, but I have n-nobody else.”

Eddie muttered under his breath. Steve, sniffling, braced for rejection. Then Eddie enfolded him tight, rocking soothingly. Steve cursed the corset more than ever, because he could barely feel Eddie’s kind caressing hands:

“I thought you were the one playing games with a lowlife woodsman, Princess.”

“Then I’m sorry! I know I can be a tease, even a bit of a bitch, but… I’m very much in love with you.”

“Seriously, you can’t mean—”

“I do, I do, I do!” Steve got right in Eddie’s baffled face, searching it desperately. “Tonight, I’ll have to say that to an Alpha thrice my age, after being punished for ruining my gown. Unless you’ll help?”

Not that Steve could hear his pursuers anymore. He wasn’t even that scared. Eddie’s comforting closeness overwhelmed his senses, as did Eddie’s words:

“I love you too.” He cupped Steve’s face and smiled, setting Steve’s heart flipping. “I didn’t dare hope. I ache when we’re apart… Mmmmf!”

With an un-Omega-like boldness, Steve initiated the kiss, which Eddie returned hungrily, plundering passionately to Steve’s depths. It was like being swept away over the rainbow… till Steve started seeing stars, and not in a good way.

Bloody corset! Can’t breathe!

Eddie broke the kiss. “What’s wrong? You’re safe now. They won’t find you.”

“Oh… um, crazily, it’s not mother.” Steve tugged his ballgown from his shoulders. “Omegas are supposed to have tiny waists and perfect deportment. This stupid corset suffocates me.”

Eddie nuzzled tenderly at Steve’s nape, while loosening the laces. As his breathing grew easier, Steve filled his lungs with Eddie’s potent Alpha musk. Finally, Eddie eased Steve out of the torturous whalebone cage and tossed it aside.

“Thank you!”

Steve whirled around so they could kiss again, and Eddie pressed him back into the moss. He’d never felt so loose and relaxed, so pliant and ready to play. Eddie’s nearness and kisses ignited a nectar-like glow inside him. The gush of slick from his cleft had him squirming with glee.

“Claim me now, Alpha!”

He anticipated a brush-off. To be fair, they should probably hide from his mother.

Instead, Eddie beamed wolfishly: “With pleasure, my Princess.”

Eddie unlaced his britches, and his Alpha cock sprung free, weeping in a fashion that made Steve rather proud. Meanwhile, that candied glow became a nigh-torturous ache of emptiness. Fortunately, Steve’s tattered petticoats hitched up easily, and Eddie inserted his steel-rod of an erection between Steve’s wet folds.

“You sure?” whispered Eddie. They’d only played games before, and Steve was a virgin.

He gaped, nodded. Eddie’s tongue breached Steve’s mouth for another kiss the same instant that cockhead split him.

“Good?” asked Eddie.

“Sublime.”

Eddie nudged deeper, stretching Steve’s oh-so-wet-and-ready tunnel impossibly wide—plowing slow and sweet, while Steve adjusted, any slight pain fading. Steve soon rocked his hips, silently pleading. Eddie let rip. Everything disintegrated beyond the feel of Eddie inside him, kindling hitherto unknown sensations of rapture that built and built. Even better, Eddie made love—his adoring gaze penetrated Steve’s soul. All Steve could do was bask in it, whispering, “l-love yoooou… ooooh!”

The wondrous friction gradually grew too much, bordering on torture again. When an unexpectedly high-tide of it burst, Steve cried out, clamping so hard around Eddie that Eddie howled too. His knot caught inside Steve, and he stopped moving, while his dick swelled even larger, pumping out molten heat.

“Sorry, Princess.”

“D-don’t you dare apologise for giving me what I’ve craved since we met.” Steve loved this stuffed feeling as much as anything. He still wanted more: “Bite me!”

Eddie’s fangs pierced Steve’s mating gland, and the sharp pain robbed his breath yet again. He saw stars again too. They were almost as beautiful as his mate, whom they only briefly eclipsed.

Eddie nested with Steve in the velvet moss, his knot buried deep. He kissed Steve’s sore neck and smothered him with love, while in the distance, the search party danced in fruitless circles.

“I ruined their ball.” Steve snickered. “Thank you for ruining me.”

“You’re more perfect than ever,” whispered Eddie. “No more games.”

“One thing confuses me, tho’. How did you know we’d not be found?”

Instinctually, he’d trusted his Alpha to keep him safe. It was still befuddling.

“Sweetheart, I might look like a devilishly handsome woodsman. I’m also a wizard on the lute and… a powerful mage. I cast a protection spell when you told me about your pursuers.”

“Oh.” Steve let that sink in, then returned to enjoying the fullness of Eddie’s knot, while purring more madly than he’d believed possible. “Thank you, Alpha.”

A few hours later, Steve’s mother was handed his corset—covered in fake blood that Eddie had conjured—and presumed he’d been ravaged by beasts.

Steve and Eddie, meanwhile, returned to a cosy cottage, raised six pups, and lived happily ever after.

💝💝💝💝💝

(yes, um... sorry. Again. Set very loosely in the same universe as this fic, which could be read as following on, although the tone is rather different.)

tags: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

#steddie holiday drabbles #whumpcember24 #steddieholidaydrabbles #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #fairytale au #steddie #omegaverse steddie #steddie omegaverse #top eddie munson #bottom steve harrington

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heiznx · 1 month ago

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𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

✦ ┊ he's your knight, how much does he know about you?

what to know ┊ this contains fantasized royalty au, woman mc, morally questioning, could be suggestive, platonic, or romantic, and it has mentions of heavy themes.

ㅤ

Xiao was not one to serve whomever just to have a roof over his head like there was nothing else he knew what to do, as if he had no will of his own.

His background from birth were anything but vivid; he barely remembers what it felt like when he was a child or if he ever felt like one, he doesn't even remember his parents, because if he forcibly looked back to the memories, all he remembered were picking up discarded, dull, and rusted weapons from near the old castle.

It was during war, people were in a panic and it was easier to steal, but he claimed to have morals and wouldn't eat unless it was given or bought—most of all, however, was the fact that old weapons were now being discarded.

To call it high quality would be a lie, because when he picked them up, they felt fake, in a sense they were more like decorations than a weapon to go to war to, and those weapons were made under the first born man of royalty.

The king was in his death bed when the first prince took over; the war was won with a lot of casualties and poor planning, at least according to what Xiao had been told about within the maids of the palace.

It was luck that the kingdom won the war.

A lot of people died because of those frail and useless weapons, even the creator, the first born, had lost his life because of it, which made the second born take over the affairs and receive backlash for being a woman.

They said it was also said that it was luck that the second born, supposedly a princess to be married off, became a queen, but that's where Xiao knew better to believe that it was luck.

Because before all that, he had talked to you.

"Is it not natural to be curious where the discarded weapons had been going?" you asked him back then with a confident tone despite the men you've brought with you were down the moment he rose his weapon. "Do I not deserve your thanks?"

Every guard but you, adorned in jewels and had to wear a gown with your waist and lungs compressed with a corset and the lower half of your body puffed by an enormous amount of crinoline and petticoats; you couldn't even bring a weapon with you in that amount of outfit.

The weapons that were discarded were because you stepped up when the first born left for war; the same spears and swords Xiao picked up and polished to sell for a living.

You've been changing weapons when the first born went to war, which was most likely why you found it odd in the first place that they're being resold or going in circles of the economy; then there he was, Xiao, the seller.

Xiao had sold the old, but polished weapons, and though the people assume he was a royal knight because of it—he was not, and he never uttered being one, so he was not punishable by law in any way.

But what he was punishable by being an assassin, that much you can dig into, and despite his morals, he can't do anything if he's being blackmailed so he needed the money to buy back drawings that no hands should have drawn or eyes to see.

He didn't plan on attacking anyone that didn't pose to be a threat first, and he most likely and certainly didn't plan on harming the benefactor that helped him earn; a face most familiar for being offered millions to kill.

"Be my sword, and you'll get the right to burn these," you said in confidence, showing your hand with a roll of papers with a ribbon with the crest of a duke.

He knew what complete confidence sounded like, and your tone didn't fit to it; your voice may be confident, but your stance was hesitant—you didn't want to do this to him.

Frankly, too, he could just steal those papers in your hands and get away with it. If only you could just confirm that they were the last copies of what the duke had a painter sketch.

Xiao was taking too long to reply because he wasn't threatened, and you also felt like this was not working because you were at clear disadvantage; your guards are down and you're defenseless.

In a few seconds of silence, you threw the scroll by his feet and said, "Take them, they're the last copies I could buy from anywhere."

The last thing Xiao had wanted was to be stuck with another noble and have his body shamed for all eternity, but what you've given him was mercy to him or perhaps you were asking him for mercy to let you go.

Still, your words sounded nice as he took the papers and he only ever opened them a little for confirmation before he burned them; his heart only ever feeling light after all the years of pent up anxiety and the gnawing guilt.

And so then, what now?

The princess, you, seemed to have much time in your hands, kneeling by the fire caused by flint; you've seen the drawings as well, and you looked like you were at your wits end, then again, you were a woman with a high status.

The king has a first born son and a second born daughter.

Everyone remembers the way your birthday was the same as your your brother despite the year gap, and everyone remembered that the first time you rode a barouche, you had shined more than your brother did.

You don't even try to get near him, poking the ashes with a stick to make sure every inch of it was taken; Xiao finds you dumb for being defenseless, but for a noble woman, you looked like you had nowhere to go.

"Take me," Xiao said, not knowing where he should go from there on knowing that there's nothing holding him by the neck.

There's a pause as you blink before you responded, "...I didn't coerce you, just so we're clear, and I will have your sins pardoned."

ㅤ

Xiao wouldn't claim that you gave him a new life or a new identity, but what you gave him that day was a choice of his own to live how he wants his life when he had breaks or when he's not on breaks.

What his task was to simply protect you, and he didn't have to stare at you on hours on end; you've allowed him to be anywhere as long as he protects you when danger comes, and fortunately, no one knew about him.

One of the things that Xiao finds quiet comfort in is the fact that your servants are well taken care of and that it's easy to distinguish which ones are close to you when the doors are closed, but what he finds most boggling is that you don't mind him around even when you dress.

You've grown desensitized about being watched getting dress, and for him, that speaks volumes, but he turns away from you.

"Have you eaten, Xiao?" you asked before you held your breath, holding on to the powder table as your maid pulled on the strings to further compress your skin.

"He has yet to," your maid responded in his stead as if he wasn't around with tinted ears.

"Have you asked if he's on strict eating regulation? He is a future knight, after all," you said, directing your words to your maid now as she takes the dress from the stand. "Perhaps allergies?"

"On the contrary, Your Royal Highness, he eats desserts."

"Is that so...? That's quite cute," you laughed as you stepped into the dress that your maid pulled up for you. "Xiao, make sure you eat more than desserts, they are the second dangerous food here to eat, more than the main meal."

"Be careful?" he questioned in his mind as your maid inserts the hooks in the eyes on the back of your dress.

It was only later during dinner time with the maids did they tell Xiao that the reason desserts are second dangerous to eat was because they were mostly the food that's poisoned, and the drinks were usually ranked first.

Not only did Xiao notice that you were heavily desensitized over the fact you could handle being watched when you bathe and dress, but you reacted the same to when being in the same room as him; he may be a special person since he's your personal (future) knight, but he hoped you were a little more wary at him since he's still human.

He saw a handful of times the way you wake up by yourself in cold sweat, whatever your dreams were seemed to be repetitive, and attempting to sleep again just repeats the dreams—he figured you keep trying to sleep again and again just so you could 'rest' for the next day.

The most painful thing to watch about you was everything.

Everything about you was so painful; he's not your guard so he can't interfere nor can he even show himself—he eats with the maids and sleeps in your room, for goodness sake.

You weren't being taken seriously, any opinions of yours being disregarded, but then considered if it came from a man's mouth; the weapons you stayed all night about developing with won't even by made by your name.

It's painfully so obvious what the men with you in the room were thinking and where their eyes linger with you; if they could marry you, your ideas are just as good as theirs.

No wonder you were at your wits' end, or that your rushed steps to your room felt faster because you were suffocating from endless unsolicited attention and words, and from the fact you're living a life you didn't choose.

"Your Royal Highness."

Xiao could only stand beside the door of your chambers as soon as you entered; you find yourself pausing—thinking that he was also a man but he had never crossed you even if you had nothing to hold him back.

There's no threat you could hold over him, but why was he much more tamed than them?

If there's one mental rule you placed in your mind with Xiao, it was that you would never touch him; you wouldn't dream of triggering anything you didn't—and you wouldn't crave for touch either, not you.

"I want water," you whispered, wondering if that's okay to ask of him, but he nodded and left through the window as you made your way to your desk.

It would be a scandal if people founded out that the princess' study and powder room was in the same room as her bedroom, because it shows how you're being perceived by the king.

Every bit of your skin felt itchy; a growing feeling that something was awfully wrong with you made its way, and it's a familiar feeling because you're getting choked up—you want to cry and remove yourself from your body.

Sometimes you feel like the world would be better if you just had a body of a man; if only you could even pretend to be one, and if only your features were not so feminine then maybe you could have a say on the table earlier.

"...Your Royal Highness, I've received intel," Xiao said as he walked in with a jug of water, glass, and a plate of a dessert stacked in his hands.

"Is it good?" you asked, your voice breaking because of your tears and you see him visibly wince, and you laughed after since he must be scared to try handling feelings out of his expertise.

"The... His Royal Highness... died in war."

You blinked; you trusted Xiao in his words and knew they held true, you can't help the feeling of happiness climbing in your system but that made you feel just as rotten for feeling so, it's your conscience.

Xiao places the water by the table with the dessert, and he reached on his pocket, hesitating to pull out his handkerchief because you obviously had better ones and he's keeping one for you—not that you'd know.

He puts his handkerchief down on the table with the water and you blinked again; you keep getting surprised but he's more surprised with your switch of moods.

The way he understands it is that you have no time to feel other things since there are other concerns, and there are opportunities for you, but he felt less tense when you grabbed his handkerchief for your tears as you felt motivated to write.

"I'm... ending everything in one swoop," you whispered as you grabbed your quill before you glanced at the dessert. "Is this your favorite, Xiao?"

Almond tofu was something you could eat when you felt like it as it wasn't too expensive as sugar was, and it was sweet in a sense; you could hit it with the spoon and watch it bounce all day if you could.

"Yes..."

ㅤ

Xiao put this upon himself; he figured you never directly or indirectly ever let it sunk into you to be the cause of the death of the person, but you got what you wanted, hell, you won't even let go of the papers that was your lifeline.

He offered to tend to you since you sent out the maids you were usually with for this one specific plan, and so they won't get involved as you felt numbed in all parts of your body.

It's over.

The night had just started, there's so much hours following on as he started first with kneeling before you outside the bed, removing the heels that made you stand on tiptoes until they blistered, until you found it hard to walk.

"It's over," he whispered to your distraught state before you covered your face, moving your elbows to your thighs as you leaned there.

You lied to your father by telling him the papers in your hands was to aid your brother in war, for him to sign to protect you, to grant you the title queen, and then that there will be no one to oppose to it—before you told him that your brother died, knowing servants didn't want to tell him because he won't be able to handle it.

Your father couldn't handle the news that his heart was blocked, preventing him from breathing, even until you left the room heartless while the servants fussed over the king.

Never had you felt your conscience clawing at you as much as you felt happy, because even so, you were cherished by your father, but only because your sex made you capable of being sold.

You choked on your tears and saliva as Xiao tenderly took your hair from your shoulder, trying to do it how your maid did—his fingers combing through your scalp as a hair stick was by his mouth; he made sure to keep your hair up.

"You... won't be able to breathe," he whispered quietly despite your sobs, referring to your corset that he wanted to remove for your betterment but couldn't risk making you uncomfortable. "Your Royal Highness, pardon me for this, please..."

He said it so quietly because he had to remove it if he wanted to act as your maid to change you out; he stayed with your maid to ensure he does it right, he starts with the clasps on your back.

You, heavily desensitized over it, didn't mind, much to his heartbreak; he felt little to no lust for you, not because your relationship was professional, but because he wouldn't dare want to make you feel like he was the same as those you had to sit with in the past.

Still, you know him, he's uncomfortable doing something he's not given permission of, so you nodded, and then you nodded until you start sobbing again; it's so hard to hold back now that you're feeling so relieved as you are utterly spent.

Xiao was awkward, but he was incredibly trustworthy; he did more than what you asked from him.

From your journey, he gave you information that you wouldn't have know earlier, he served you like he was a servant, he learns a lot of things to accommodate you, and he even goes his way out to protect the servants you cherish.

It was a 'no' for you to use your servants to do your bidding when it was obviously against the king; they have been too nice for you to involve them.

There's already little trust that you've given him when you met him, but now it's immense as you wrapped your arms around his neck when he attempted to carry your bare form to a bath, which you loved the most if it was hot water and when you could take your time.

He knows what you loved, and you only know so little about him—only his past that he tends to avoid talking about, perhaps it's not something he wishes to remember, or something he had forgotten about already.

You leaned your head back on the ceramic, tilting your head enough to look at him once you've seated on the bath; he's a man, but he hasn't tried anything even if you were bare on the water and defenseless, in fact, he's rolling up his sleeves.

"...Your Royal Highness, I'll take care of you," he said quietly, soothing your ears as you closes your eyes while he takes your hair from the side of your head. "If ever you fall asleep, leave it to me also."

As response to him, you nodded, he was so gentle, but what you can confirm was that he had always been watching over you—and his skills were learned by observing your maid; there's a bit of you that wanted to be wary, but then again, you should rest.

For tonight, you don't want to think and Xiao here was willing to do things for you, and he might even just tuck you in.

The rule you put for yourself when it comes to him was to never touch him, because you knew what he went through, but here he was, holding your arm up as he ran the cloth over it tenderly.

"I have knights... rather, an order," you whispered saying that you have people under the same group. "I think you'll fit well with them when you reach become a knight."

"That will take years..." he whispered though it's no complain and you opened your eyes to see him moving to your legs before your body.

"Don't be silly," you laughed, the water of the bath going along with you as you raised your leg for him not to have to reach for it under the water. "You're skipping the page and squire."

"Is that not against the law?"

"Laws could be bent," you said, both of you talking as if you weren't naked in the tub. "Just like my father, I caused it, but I wasn't the one to do it... I won't even show up on the autopsy."

Xiao stayed quiet as you go back to closing your eyes to relax in the bath; you will rest and you will relax, tomorrow will be another big day since you're the only remaining royal left—and you will submit your contract to the court to earn your place.

That night, you would say that you would rest, but you ended up writing your plans for the next day as Xiao took bits and bits of almond tofu on a spoon to put by your mouth to take.

It's his favorite, and maybe you liked it too since your maids said that there was a lot of them stocked after he first had you taste them days ago when your brother died.

Your legs swing on your back as you read through more papers. feeling much more comfortable ever than you were in your entire life, since your work was not in a rush, the only thing that was making you feel off was Xiao's actions.

"I never took you with me for this," you wanted to tell him since it was a wonder why he was so good at servicing you or why he wanted to do it in the first place when you haven't even give him a proper bed yet.

All he could occupy in your home was the couch on the foot of your bed, and so you started wondering if he ever planned on staying as a knight until he retires when he's old or if he was here until he couldn't get anything anymore even if he didn't seem to be like that.

ㅤ

There seems to be a shift in your relationship with Xiao after that night; he's more willing to touch you now that he's sure that you didn't mind and he seems to be doing the maids' duties than a knight since he was always willing to do your hair and dress you.

The maids noticed it more than you did because you have gotten used to it quickly, and with your new position, you were definitely happier though you had to pretend to be sad for the death of your only family.

"I'm going to have to push back your ceremony," you whispered as he brushed back your hair away from your face to tie it, knowing it was a sign of rebellion against the stereotypes and he was more than willing to help you with it. "I'll try compensating you."

"...I'd appreciate if you let me join the war," he spoke and the way you suddenly turned your head his way, surprised and even distraught ruined your hair completely.

Should you ask? Was it within your relationship?

Your eyebrows furrowed before you turn back to the mirror, choosing not to ask as Xiao gathered your hair again to tie it again; you brought your father six feet under ground and yet you associated your hard work as Xiao helping you to the point you think he's your luck?

There's a pit in your stomach that you tried to understand, but you could not stand having him away for too long, much less on a lengthy event such as war—it's not something you can just send him to.

"What made you think that?" your maid asked as she unbuttoned the buttons of your suit for the meeting later with other men. "Why war?"

"To contribute," Xiao whispered.

To earn his place, he wants to work for it.

You sighed, can't help but had your good mood be broken down by his words, and you can't hold him back because you wanted him to do what he felt like would be best for him.

He's here just to watch over you, but there's not much point to it now since you're going to be a queen, even if you need a knight more than ever, people couldn't point their swords at your legitimacy.

"I'll send a letter to the order to take you in," you said, frowning softly. "The coronation is set in three days, and let's have your ceremony there as well and you will set off before this week ends."

"Is that possible?" your maid asked.

"Take it as the first order from the queen," you laughed a little, drumming your finger on the armrest, a little conscious to be alone now. "Write to me, Xiao."

What made Xiao different from your maids was the fact he sees you vulnerable every single day, and it's not the usual vulnerable in which you're naked or that he bathes you, it's that he's seen your emotional turmoil and knew that your heart was not so strong.

He would be leaving for a lengthy period, and you don't know how long you could last knowing you can't quietly confide in someone; your problems and sins were not as heavy before as they are now.

"Yes, Your Royal Highness..."

ㅤ

The maids that were quite close to you couldn't understand how Xiao was not enamored as the people were with you, but then again, when he was officially knighted, he wore a uniform and with jewelry that made people question if he was a rich noble or a noble again from a neighboring country.

If they could ask Xiao, perhaps he'd a response for it, but he also looked like who wouldn't dare fathom such thoughts about you. It's quite a shame, they all thought.

It wasn't that he hated being approached, but he disliked small talks and close proximity, and there wasn't much to do other than watch you receive gifts while receiving messages; two or three being bold enough to confess their so-called undying feelings.

For sure, you killed those feelings with how loudly you laughed and sent them to jail for straight up disrespect, specifically on your coronation day; it's a sign that an unforgiving ruler was not sitting on the throne.

"They are all so heavy," he murmured, much to your amusement as you laughed whilst removing the ornaments on his collars and chest before then taking his hand to remove the bracelet.

He dressed himself so he would know how to remove them, and your maids only helped with the ornaments and jewelries.

You released his hand and placed the bracelet back on your table before you waved him off to get dressed in the bathroom while you handle your own appearance—but you only removed one earring when he was back to his casual clothing, and you hear the running water.

Perhaps he was used to dressing up in his clothing since it's repetitive, and the thought made you smile to yourself as you moved to remove your other earring in front of the mirror; Xiao is so cute.

What's heavier than his outfit was yours, because your entire hair was filled with clips and hanging jewelry, not only your hair but also your entire body.

Having gotten used to you as well, your hair was a simple puzzle, he knows which ornament to remove first and which clip to remove as not to disturb the other and tangle your hair—much to your amazement.

"You're leaving tomorrow, you should retire quickly for now," you said, removing the rings in your fingers and leaving them on the powder table with the rest of the things that he had removed. "It will not be so peaceful there..."

Some of the jewelries here were given as a gift before your coronation, and you scoffed when you first saw them after your maid finished delivering everything, because they had the money for jewelries but not when it comes to donation.

You've seen them all, and even memorized a few; it took your all to pretend not to see that Xiao had placed an out-of-the-place brooch by your table, pretending it was from your hair—of all places.

He's quite clumsy, you place your hand near your mouth to pretend to cough but you just wanted to smile a little; he's actually really cute for someone capable of taking down your men.

"Oh, and I had a spear custom made for you," you said, remembering that it was your gift for him being an official knight now even if he was going to leave as soon as possible. "Make sure to use it well so those noblemen will regret trying to make use of my ideas."

It's for him, and you didn't plan on saying it like that, in fact, you wanted to bid him goodbye or wish him safe for when he leaves tomorrow, but for some reason, it came out of your mouth like that.

You added, "And don't forget to write to me."

Silently, as you looked at his reflection in the mirror, you hoped he didn't take it the way it sounded like, because you didn't want him to feel like you were only using him for advertisment.

"I'll bring you victory, Your Royal Majesty."

"Just come back alive," you sighed, glancing at the brooch that was butterfly shaped. "The order too... tell them to come home soon."

To earn your favor, jewelries have been gifted to you, you've known which brand or hand some of them came from, and the butterfly-shaped brooch was simple—there's no scratches on it and it had quite the rough edges.

It warms your heart as you glanced at Xiao's hand as he moves to put another ornament down on the table from your neck, his hand had quite the scratches and rough skin, which made you sigh; he's so kind.

"Are they trustworthy?" Xiao asked, moving to now to hold your hair up with a hair stick and you nodded, smiling a little.

"I picked them up from the streets," you said, almost huffing a little in a little laugh. "They've been together since they were children, so I never tried to separate them, but they make the perfect group since they make up for each other's lacking."

Xiao suddenly thought about your age, you speak as though you were older than the order, which was a little confusing because you two looked like you were of the same age when you rode the barouche around the streets of the capital.

After a few hours when Xiao had to leave to war, you were wide awake, looking through the balcony since he had left in secret, only a few people knowing including the maids that were close to you; you couldn't go down in risk of getting caught.

The gift you gave him, however, was so bright in the dark that you wondered if you had overdone it, but he looked at you more times than you can count; you waved the brooch that he gave much to his embarrassment.

There is no doubt that he will get along with the order, because he had no choice, they were the safest order you can put him in without being bullied, and it was an order with two to three extroverts, worse was that the leader of the order itself was one of the extroverts.

Now, you had other things to do while Xiao was gone.

ㅤ

Having power felt good, you realized after the duke was sentenced to death after being guilty of embezzlement and treason; as long as you showed favor on the other side, the others too would follow just so they could please you.

It was so easy to do good and manage the kingdom; the only heavy thing was the war despite not being sent a letter from Xiao that the situation was dire—and you find Xiao's letters quite hilarious as well because his words all sounded so confused.

The Marshal Vritras, Bosacius, apparently had the time do draw on Xiao—well, currently going by the name Alatus'—face; they all seem to spoil him as well, seeing that he was the youngest to be in the order and the youngest of them in general.

Alatus also writes that you had a bad reputation, but the order doesn't believe them, which you already knew since you were the one to make them official, and you were transparent with them as they are with you.

When the order realized that Alatus was able to write to you, they also asked permission through him, and it gets funnier because they start telling you more stories about Alatus then they also send you requests when they need supplies for war.

But Bosacius, however, when his first letter arrived, he made fun of your penname that you hid behind of to avoid the people from knowing they're in direct contact with the queen; you started not replying to his letters right after but you read them in case for emergency.

Though they don't even sound like they're at war with how they're speaking.

Apparently Alatus holds you in high regard, according to Menogias, it was what brought him closer to the order, aside from the fact that Alatus was sent by you to them.

It wasn't a lie when Xiao said that he'd bring you victory, because he did; it was written in Xiao's letter—not that you can call it letter because his words fits in strips of papers.

You can't help but drown yourself in your comfortable bed to hear that they were going to be returning soon; the banquet has long been planned because you couldn't bear the thought of losing.

Moreover, everyone was alive and everything was going well in the kingdom; the nobles were replaced, the kingdom is thriving, orphanages are built, and majority of the people respect you.

You had never felt so blessed, but the temple hates you for the deaths you caused and that you minimalized their reputation and impact on the citizens as if they both can't co-exist on being nice to the world.

In your bliss and moving around in joy, you let your guard down and didn't even hear the clicking of your balcony doors that was swiped up; it was late when you realized it and your only defense was your chair.

ㅤ

There are a lot of knights displeased about the fact that the queen was not there to greet them after they have fought so long in war, but the order was able to pacify them because the queen could show up in the banquet held for them instead for their victory.

Xiao had nowhere to return; he had no house, just a home beside you, but he hadn't received a paper in return if he was allowed to go and there's no response on your side.

The ever so great leader Bosacius was willing to let him stay with the rest of the order in the knights' dorm or in Bonanus' house, considering she's a noble, and they all had to prepare for the banquet that will start at night and end before the sun rises.

It was only hours before the banquet did he receive a response from a pigeon and it was your handwriting alright, but it seemed rather odd; it was a shaky handwriting on your part.

Rather than responding to his question first, you gave him an order to tell Bosacius to pacify the knights' doubt about you not appearing and try to convince them that you would appear in the banquet, then only did you respond to Xiao saying that you've prepared his clothing.

Bosacius already did such, but Xiao still told him since he was also going to tell him and the rest of the order that he was leaving; the rest let him go and internally pardoned him for currently being unable to thank them since he can't seem to get it out of his mouth.

When Xiao arrived by the front of the palace, he can already see maids running around and from the windows while he snuck in through the balcony which was tied shut from inside, much to his surprise because you used to lock it but never tied it.

He sees you in bed, laying down, but it's covered by curtains and your maid only noticed him because of his dark clothing and spear so she allowed him in.

Yet there's so many blood.

"Is it Xiao?" you asked, sounding like your face was covered by the pillow and that it was as he pushed the curtains aside to see your on your chest and your back bare. "How are you so fast...?"

The maids have been discreetly trying to treat the large wound at your back without being obvious, so there's a lot of red cloth and just a bowl of water that's supposed to be for your face.

But you're so pale and your lips were already blue; he can't tell if it's because you've been untreated for a long time or because you lost a lot of blood since even your bed was heavily stained.

"How long has it been?" he asked, reaching for the bowl of water himself since your maids were not trained for such and your wound is open to the world for who knows how long.

"Since the letter arrived last night," you murmured, moving your hand to the pillow to brace yourself from the sharp pain and your voice sounded so hoarse like you've not been given water.

You've never involved your maids in your pain and now they didn't even know how to deal with it when a situation like this arrived; they could've been framed for your death had you not been holding onto sheer will.

What's most dangerous was probably the fact you've been awake since last night too, and now that you felt relief that Xiao was close, the relief is awakening the fatigue you've been pushing back—you suddenly want to rest for a long time.

Everything feels foggy, until the sharp pain on your back woke you up and you buried your face in your pillow again; it's so painful even if just a few sips of water enters it.

"Give me an hour," he whispered.

The way he said it was as if there's a lace of desperation in it, and his tone immediately earned a nod from you as you clench on the pillow; you need to stay awake for an hour.

At least an hour before he's sure that you are capable of waking up again in a later time, but he had no intentions of waking you up for the banquet; Bosacius would need to make up reasons.

He opened your drawers to look for where you hide your money, only having his heart clench to see that the butterfly brooch he left for you was placed on the center of many of your jewelries; he can't afford to be distracted.

Alatus grabs the pouch of coins and went for the balcony, even leaving his spear behind; he needs to get you the necessary things you need, but there's so much people around so he had to sneak around.

He paid for more than what it's worth to get past the lines, but he got back to you in half an hour. He can't catch a break, and people tried to swarm him with praises since his entire clothing was screaming that he was one of the knights that fought for you.

Was it odd that he was irritated?

You were still awake and the maids were on watch out and they covered your wound with wet cloth to avoid further infection; this must be the only time in your life did you feel like your body wants you to sleep.

Despite your knowledge, it doesn't extend all that much in medicines, just first aids so you don't know what Xiao plans on doing—the disinfectant he put around your wound was so painful that you cried in your pillow as your maids left to fetch drinkable water.

If there was a much gentler and tender option, Xiao was sure to choose it but disinfectants truly sting regardless of what brand it could be; you started sobbing on the pillow.

The reason you're left untreated was not because your maids are not capable of handling you, but because you knew it's not their expertise, you didn't want to end up crying in front of them, and you wanted the disinfecting and wrapping of the wound in all within just a few minutes.

You didn't want more pain than you were in.

This was a sign not to let the maids in, so when they arrived with the water, Xiao just took them by the door and whispered that they can talk downstairs later in the maids' dorms.

It's so much better to sleep it off, you don't understand why Xiao was keeping you awake while placing a gauze by your wound—you placed your hand on his arm when he tried to get you to sit up because that's not something you can handle.

Sitting up involves your skin folding because of the way you sit and that's painful for you and you shook your head at his way, feeling your throat blocked by the fear of more incoming pain.

He could only quietly guide you hand back to the pillow, offering just a light squeeze for you before he grabbed the bandages, opting to wrap it while you're laying down, but he'll have to move you around a little bit.

"Are you thirsty?"

You hummed weakly as a response as you nodded your head a little; it wasn't as painful as placing the disinfectant, most likely because Xiao just came from war and learning self-aid would be good as well as trying to aid your comrades.

Xiao doesn't know what you were thinking, planning to even try putting on a corset to present yourself later when you can barely handle being sat up; the clothes will just worsen your injury too.

He pours you a glass, his fingers reaching gently for your chin to lift it up a bit from the pillow so you could drink and your mouth opens unconsciously to take the water.

He tilts it so little but he's still clumsy at it, not that you had the time to think that it's funny or even a little cute since you were so exhausted, and drinking water just further proves to Xiao that you're perfectly capable of going to sleep now since you obviously had no respiratory problems.

There's so much to do while you were asleep, being in the group of Bosacius granted him power that he didn't plan on exploiting, but he needed their help and he needed that power to make sure the knights don't further see you badly due to your inability to be present at the banquet.

"You can sleep now," he whispered, taking the glass away and placing it on the table.

It's so peaceful for you now, and you consciously took his hand in yours just to give it a little squeeze before you took it back just as quickly. You murmured, "Welcome back."

It seemed like you had nothing more to say since you fell asleep fairly quickly with your head on the side so you could breathe, and he can't help but just sink at the side of your bed, finally being able to try and catch his own breath.

"Not you."

He also thought the same thing back when he first saw you; the real reason why he can never try to assassinate you despite being blackmailed was because you're his benefactor—and because he wanted to see the child he saw in the barouche shine so brightly again.

There's no way that your brother was protected by the order you made, because your own order knew that he was in the way of you and the power you were supposed to rightfully own; it was why he died in the first place.

You had no idea how capable they were of playing dumb, and also him; you didn't even check if your father actually died that day, you left when the physician went to check on him—he lived, and Xiao just suffocated him.

The reason the order and him got along so well were because they were all people saved by you, and now your kingdom vouches for you; there's no telling what will happen to the Temple now.

He breathes out before he gets up since he needs to tell Bosacius now about what happened, and what he information he can get just by looking at your room.

It's irking, because you stopped having nightmares when you became a queen, because you stopped waking up so suddenly that he was free to just watch you, but now you can't seem to sleep properly—like they resurfaced everything that was supposed to be six feet down like your father and brother.

The reason he's used to handling your hair was because of how intently he watched you; he was claimed so lucky by the order to tend to you, and he's not going anywhere else.

He combs his fingers through your hair to push it back a little before he pulls back slowly to use your bathroom; he's going to tell the order everything during the party and he's going to make sure you remained loved by the rest of the knights before the banquet ends.

hzn ┊ i wrote something abt riddle rosehearts first but it was so hard to write that i went for xiao first since i realized i spun the wheel on what idea goes first and xiao was first. i want to emphasize how your relationship dynamic with him is even if i'm unsure myself, and i'm not a writer who could describe things well so i need ya'll to have an imaginative mind for the both of us T-T

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact alatus #xiao #alatus #xiao x reader #alatus x reader

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rosemarytraitor · 5 months ago

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forcemasc Victorian governess introduces herself, then corrects you before you can reply by having you stand with your hands behind your back , showing your best posture, and tell your name. She raises an eyebrow when you say it. Very modern, she remarks. Now she leans in with the air of one coming to the heart of the matter and asks: exactly what was your last governess punishing you for? You’re confused. Your hands are unmarked, and your long dress (you’re so near to being out) would hide any other signs of a thrashing if they were there. You venture that you’re typically very well behaved.

Nonsense, she dismisses this; nonsense. No doubt you will be well behaved for her, yes, but surely you did something to earn such strict petticoat discipline.

You open your mouth, flushing scarlet, groping for words to explain this wondrous error (how did she miss that you were a young lady from the advertisement? Her interview with your guardians? Everything in the room?) but the governess is already opening her neat little carpet-bag. The protests die in your throat at the sight within. White linsey cloth. Brass buttons. A flat cap with a boyish raspberry-colored ribbon.

This will be more suitable for a young gentleman, she says. You are long past the age for breeching. It cannot be done too soon. She holds up the child’s sailor-suit and eyes it critically against you. She says you’re taller than she expected. The short pants will display your knees and thighs, but it can’t be helped for now.

she gestures to the dainty dressing-screen and says she’ll help you out of those silly skirts, though if you’re accustomed to stays, you may leave your corset on; many gentlemen do prefer them. Hurry, though, and get into the sailor-suit so there will be time for a walk after teatime. She has ordered roast beef for your tea; apparently, you have typically been served dainty cut-up fruits and ices, but your new governess will be putting a stop to that. She made it clear to Cook that your tea-tray must now be stocked with more satisfying fare. Young men have large appetites, and little boys need strengthening meals to grow.

#cnc agepl@y #forcemasc #governess

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kimmipettie · 1 month ago

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6/26/25 - 896 - Chris is becoming quite the savvy feminine promoter of the Chris doll line. Boys dreaming of being girls line up for blocks for the opportunity to purchase their very own bride doll and meet the amazing Chris. Will she soon be transitioning into a bride from a Miss?

Today's Throwback Thursday debuted on Petticoat Punishment Art back in 2015, one of the very last ones there. Andy Latex also featured this in his Christeen selections on 6/20/25.

#christeen #kimmicaption #carolejean

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pursuitseternal · 1 year ago

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“Unmask Me:” 🎭 NSFW Masquerade update for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader |E| 4.7K of revealing smut

🎨by @glorious-void 🌹

Summary: Music and masks, dancing and deception. It’s so easy to hide your identity beneath a mask, but for you, as Regent Consort while Lord Astarion is away on his travels, everyone knows you. Everyone wants to be with you, particularly your love and Lord. Once he returns and is unmasked, of course.

CW: Mistaken identities, jealous/aroused Astarion, Dom!Astarion, outdoor sex, playful punishment, spanking, oral sex female receiving, rough fucking and regal engagements afterwards.

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭🩸🎭

Regent Consort. That is your title, at least until your love’s return. You flounce your ebony skirts, that sultry hint of burgundy beneath a little nod to your beloved vampirism. You adjust the many layers of petticoat that fill out your gown. Alone in the ballroom, you pace by the window. Weeks of Astarion away, and he is due to return any hour now.

You know he will be hungry, he will desire you more than anything. He will be feral, wild. Untameable until he’s drunk his fill of your blood and fucked you enough. If he isn’t exhausted from his travels to the far East… alliances and silks from Cormyr and gems and… it was enough of a burden for him to shoulder. You have been left with enough to handle here in the City, his Right Hand to rule in his place, his Regent Consort on his throne. Your tasks have been ceaseless since he left so many tendays ago: Council meetings and trade deals to twist towards your benefit, not to mention cajoling Duke Wyll Ravengaurd enough—enough for him to remain oblivious to the fact that you and your love had far surpassed any authority he thought he held.

You smirk, gazing out into the night’s sparkling darkness. Of course you decided the best course of action was to stroke your old friend’s ego—and nothing touts a symbol of friendship and your own wealth and power like a good masquerade ball.

Of course, it just happened to fall on the same evening as Lord Astarion’s long-expected return. But your heart leaps in your chest, if it could beat faster, that is. Every detail has been carefully laid, and all with his secret knowledge. He approves of this wholeheartedly, those little flashes of his affection quaking down your bond as Master and Bride keeping him informed. You feel his love, his approval and his hunger. Your bond of heart, mind, and blood is enough only to coax his hasty return just a little faster.

His presence had long disappeared from your mind, leaving you without word, his journeys consuming enough of his power to claim his concentration. And so you wait, on baited breath, for his return. Soon, he had said. Tonight.

At long last, your guests arrive in your wide and sprawling drive, carriage after carriage emptying with elegantly clothed couples and painted faces. A parade of colors and paper and decadence. A night in honor of the Duke, a demonstration of the Vampire Ascendant’s immense affluence. The grandest host on the Sword Coast. The most powerful, handsome being in this whole realm.

Yes, you smile, releasing your folded arms to adjust your own demi-mask, Astarion will revel in the extravagance.

Once he finally fucking arrives, of course.

But you force a smile on your face as your guests parade into your presence, all fanfare and pomp and circumstance as befitting a ball for the Duke… as befitting a party hosted by the Vampire Ascendant and his Consort. Couples sweep into the grandeur, each pair, each guest more sumptuously dressed than the one before. You make your way to the head of the dais, your black Demi-mask in place, but you are certain your own scarlet eyes and your fang-toothed smile will surely make certain not a hand is laid on you.

No mistaken identity as to who you are tonight. You are Regent Consort, the Ascendant’s Lady. You are his.

And if your vampiric qualities aren’t enough to drive away would-be admirers, the decadent, gold and bejeweled crown on your head certainly will. A quaint little symbol of the power you tend in his absence. Your eyes scan mask after mask, even as you stand before his throne. Nodding greetings, formally and cordially welcoming guest after guest.

You scrutinize the most gallant looking, the most ostentatious of males. If he were to disguise himself, to play one of his little games with you… surely he would spare no expense on his costume. Even arriving from his travels… it dawns on you now, looking at this primped and preening man. You know why he has gone as silent as his empty grave on his end of your bond.

He’s planning something. A surprise, a seduction. Something that will surely set your slow, undead heart racing and make your folds drench down your thighs.

Once you unmask him of course. There would be… some clue. He wasn’t that clever, never one for details. He prefers to lure you in with honey-sweet words and a grind of his bulge somewhere on your body. Sensual, sweet thing that he is.

Your gaze has grown distant, your pleasant smile fixed on your painted lips. It’s only once the musicians strike up the music that you slowly return to your surroundings.

And it’s only once the drums begin pounding so loudly it shakes in your rib cage that you notice one male lingering at your feet. Richly brocaded damask, deeper crimson than what runs in one’s veins, his costume is breathtaking. Cut so perfectly around his waist and hips, drawing the eye towards that gusset between his thighs.

You quickly raise your gaze, realizing you are licking your lips as you scan this male’s body.

And you’re met with eyes that are so deep set in his golden Bautta mask, you can’t see the color. But you drink in that intensity. That gilded cover hides every sharp, pale feature, even covering his sly and sultry mouth. But all he needs are his eyes boring into you, already undressing you. It’s… delicious.

He would come in regal colors and damask, in a mask that’s inlaid and filigreed with real gold. That feathered cap on his head is a nice touch to hide his telltale silver tousles, as well. Slowly, this man turns towards you, and you can feel it, the way he is drawn to your power, eager to be your thrall.

He wants you, and you know it must be his plan, a master of stirring your body for him alone even in disguise. Feet treading up a stair or two in your direction, he gives an elegant bow, a swish of his scarlet, silken cape as he extends his gloved hand for yours.

Your feet follow him into the mass of people, the center of the dancing as couples begin to form in patterns and forms. Ready to dance.

He doesn’t need to say a word, only giving a deep, muffled laugh beneath that pointed mask as you sweep with your supernatural grace in his hold. A merry dance, one that weaves you around other couples at a clip, one that makes your own silken, gloved hand pass into the palm of every male on that dance floor. Spin after spin, pass after pass, and your flesh practically ignites with each time you cross with your golden-faced lover.

Your mouth salivates, and you wonder why he hasn’t whisked you away to your chambers.

As the music begins to slow, you feel a pinprick at the back of your neck, even as he… the man with the golden mask… your lover pulls you in one last spin. You see nothing in the crowd, but you feel… something. Something hot and sharp, eyes on you from somewhere in the masses.

Then again, all eyes are on you. You and your Lord do tend to turn every head in the room. And you do so as you pull him through the double glass doors and onto the open aired terrace.

Lit by only the moon and stars, you keep your hands on his arm and his waist, leading him as far as possible from the crowds. You don’t even know if the Duke has arrived, nor do you care. You need sating, need to indulge the tension that has flared between you two in that ancient way you always have.

He stops once you both reach the shadows, arms wrapped around your elegant dark dress, its gauze and crinolines dusky burgundy and black as you practically bleed into the shadows yourself. “My lady,” that voice whispers from behind the mask, muted and strange. A trick of his disguise.

“My lord,” you lilt back, taking a single finger to stroke the bare flesh of his neck where it peeks above the bright collar of his jacket. “I need something from you, ever so badly.”

“Then take it, my lady,” he tilts his head, baring more of his pale skin. Your eyes are wide, ravenous. You haven’t fed from living blood since his departure. For his was the only vintage you drank, the only kind that would fill you. Craning your head, standing on the balls of your toes, you lick your lips, barely restrained enough to take a little bit of time.

Your fangs finally bite, and warm, coppery essence fills your mouth… but only after a few swallows does it hit you.

Smack in the face.

Blood strange on the tongue.

And then you feel someone drawing closer behind you, soft footfalls that make your stomach flutter, your bond snapping taught. He’s here at last.

And this man beneath your mouth isn’t him…

“Darling, I’m hurt,” you hear Astarion’s voice, perfectly clear, breath brushing down your shoulders and back, “I thought we had something special…”

You round so quickly, spitting out the stranger's blood from your mouth in utter disgust.

He’s there.

Astarion.

You curse yourself. You should have known… how did you not? He was perfect in his disguise, he was…. Your rogue. Just as he was on those nights in the camp… simple and elegant and mouthwatering. A familiar frilled shirt, ruffles of embroidered silk framing his pale and perfect chest… tightly cinched breeches that hug his every sinew and line of his thighs and bulge. A mask, black as night, gilded with embellishments shaped like the rays of the sun—a little nod to his Ascendant power.

His greatest disguise as the Vampire Ascendant— the Rogue he once was.

But it’s his lips pressed in a hardened smile, his eyes practically glowing with power, swirling with the concoction of jealousy and arousal that makes you tremble before him. Both emotions strike you in your belly, launched at you, a blade from his mind thrust into yours.

You let out a whimper, your mouth fluttering at the sight of him, your elegant rogue, your vampire lover and lord and husband and master. “Astarion,” you gasp, feeling the man’s mortal blood seeping down your lower lip. Gaping in horror at what you have done.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth, keeping his distance, totally giving no heed to the man who staggers a bit behind you. “Well, darling, it seems you have found your entertainment for the evening already. A pity I wasn’t more forward… more aggressive to catch your… hungering attentions.”

You feel it… knowing he feels it too. Your belly aches to begin feeding once more. “No, no…” you protest, drawing a step closer, wiping your bloodied chin on the back of your sable silken glove.

“Really, my Consort, who am I to deny you your hunger?” he’s hissing. Defensive. Eyes heavily lidded, jaw tweaking as he watches you unravel before him.

“Hungry? Yes,” you pant, a feral need unlocking inside you to be so close to your love, your maker, and yet kept at arm's length. “For you, my love. I thought he was you, Astarion.”

He sniffs, derision seething in that one breath. Disdain turns playfully at his lips and darkens his crimson eyes. “I forget sometimes how new to your vampirism you are, darling,” he chides, none too gently. “You have no idea the pull you have on others… the natural way your charms will command the weakest minds to bend their necks for your teeth. No matter what ignorant fools they are, trying to take what’s mine.”

And with that, he snaps. Uncontrolled aggression embodied, a growl in his throat, Astarion flies at the poor male. His bare hand locks around the other’s bleeding neck. “Get out of my sight, out of my palace… out of my city, if you wish to survive this night, you fool.” His voice is death itself, bone chilling and sharp. And the man waits not one second more before fleeing into the night, back through the crowds.

Turning back to face you ever so slowly, he pulls off his mask, fingers tugging swiftly at the black silken ribbon behind his head. You see it in his face, the darkening of jealousy… but also the arousal in the way his nostrils flare and his pupils dilate so wide. “Well, my treasure, I’ll admit… power never looked so good on another… on anyone that wasn’t me.”

You force yourself to inhale, lungs shaking as you try to breathe. “You’re not… mad?”

“Darling, I am furious,” he hisses, closing in on you swiftly, clenching his grip hard around your throat. “You’ve done remarkably well in my absence in most ways, such a lavish soirée, even I am impressed. But,” he thrust his smirking, snarling face into yours until your noses brush, “you clearly need a swift reminding, darling, of just what you’ve been missing… of what parts of me you’ve missed.”

Grabbing at your hand, he thrusts your palm against his cock, so hard and hot through the well-oiled, skin-tight leather.

“Just like old times,” you rasp under his clutches.

“Tut, tut,” he chides you, all honey in his venom. “Nostalgia for your vampire rogue isn’t going to work on me…”

“Well,” you smirk, rubbing your hand up and down against his twitching erection, “something has…”

His lips crush yours, certainly ruining what was left of your lip paints, licking off the remnant of that poor fool’s blood from your chin, your fangs. And most assuredly, making your lips swell and bruise as he works ravenously in his kiss. He keeps your palm pressed hard on that aching rise between his legs, slow little rolls of his hips against the pressure.

“Watching you touch another… dancing with another… watching your eyes batting at him…” He breaks from his words to dart his tongue inside your mouth, licking again and again until he’s replaced all traces of that offender’s blood with only the flavor of him. “Watching you beckon him into the privacy of your presence… your lips on his skin…” His body seizes, that blend of jealousy and arousal crashing into you again four-fold. “I’ve never wanted to kill and fuck more than I do right now…”

You watch his pale chest heaving, watching every one of his veins beat with his ascendant heart, perfectly perched under his beautiful skin. Head cocking, he grips the ruffled collar of his silken shirt, tugging it wide.

Licking your lips, you feel his command: If you’re starving, daring, then feed.

You don’t need him to offer again, don’t need any other influence on your mind. Your stomach assumes control. Crown tilting askew from the pile of curls atop your head, you bite his warm and tender flesh.

And you bite hard.

Lewd, loud, trembling as if you just came… you moan right under his ear. Your mouthful of his rich, powerful blood almost spills over your lips, but you don’t dare let a drop be wasted. His hand presses harshly against the back of your neck, your curls and pins tugging at your scalp with the force. But you don’t care. Not as one hand grips into his arm to hold him steady, your other bracing on the other side of his neck to feel that raging pulse under your touch. There is nothing now that matters more than his ascendant blood on your tongue and his warm flesh beneath your lips.

“Careful, darling…” he speaks, vibrations from his silken voice shaking your lips. “I can’t be too bloodless to finish satisfying our hunger. Bad form to have the Ascendant unconscious at his own gala.”

One last, long drink and you pull off the wounds from your fangs with a pop. “Yes, my lord, how else do you think I hunger?”

Oh, he catches you by your neck once more, more playfully this time, long fingers wrapping up around your jaw. “What a stupid question for one as clever as you, my pet. You’re going to take my cock so nicely, another nice warm welcome that I know you’re craving too, darling. But first, you’ll pay nicely for your charming little transgression.” He pulls you further from the chaos and din inside your palace, deeper into the shadows. You can smell the gardens below you, the heady scent of blossoms in the air, lilacs and roses and lilies, just over the waist high wall.

And it’s over that wall you feel him spin you, laying you out carefully over its wide edge.

“Bad girl, my consort,” he leans over, his body crushing you from behind slightly to rasp right behind your ear. “Though, it was rather… intoxicating… to watch those lips redden with another’s blood… to scent your arousal so potently at the mere thought of my return. I shall be lenient, my love.”

“You liked it, didn’t you?” you jeer sweetly, a little roll of your ass against where he presses you down into the stone. “Of course, I only indulged thinking it was you playing some cheeky little game…”

He sinks his fangs into your neck, making a sharp cry pierce your words and stutter your voice.

“… should have known your games are much more fun,” you manage to add as he sucks from your veins. One hand grips behind where your crown perches, yanking at the roots of your hair and tugging your neck to a wider angle. And then he drinks quickly and deeply.

“What am I if not fun, hmm?” he purrs beneath your ear, one hand clasped around your wrist, the other begins to lift the pile of your skirts, tulle and silks and crinoline piling high on your back until you feel the night air on the back of your thighs.

Until you feel the breeze on your ass as he slips your undergarments to your knees.

“Feel free to scream, my pet. There is no one out here but us creatures of the night now….”

Smack.

His palm lands sharply on your bare cheek. A gentle rub follows the pain, fingers angling their dexterous touch slightly between your pressed thighs.

Smack.

Harder this time, fully on the other side, he spanks you. And while you grunt, muffled into your bent arms beneath your head, Astarion groans.

Loudly. Full throated.

His hand massages that freshly reddening ass this time. You feel his body bracing along your side, spank after spank making you shake with pain, only to be brush away quickly with his tender touch.

It’s maddening, making your core heat even more than before. Your hips wiggle under his fingers, hoping he might accidentally slip one or two between your folds.

But nothing Astarion does with his skilled hands is accidental or blunt— refined, precise. Perfect. “Feeling sufficiently contrite?” he purrs, moving behind you. One single hand splays on your lower back, the leather of his breeches presses behind you, almost like skin against your bare flesh.

“Yes, sorry,” you mumble into the gauzy sleeve of your dress as you bury your face.

His touch slips just a little between your cheek, your arousal running down your thigh as he spreads you just a little. “What was that, darling? You have been awfully quiet in your penance, you know…”

A single finger, nail first, creeps to where you clit lies. “Yes…. S- sorry,” you groan, lifting your head, turning just enough to see where he crouches behind you. He looks delicious in the moonlight, if you didn’t feel your bond, know your body teemed with undead power, he would look as he did all those nights on the road. That same devious smirk, same glinting, feral gaze that wants to eat you right up….

Say no more… he purrs into your mind, a delicate brush of his power making you shake. Reading your thoughts as you gaze at him.

He slaps your thighs apart, burying his face between them to do just that.

Eat you right up.

That thick tongue of his sweeps from your clit to the end of your seam.

“Scream for me,” he bids you. Your back arches, your head lifting, like a wolf in heat, you howl. Your voice ricochets off the garden wall, followed by another whimpering sound as he keeps that mouth of his sucking on your clit. Fingers spread you wider, thrusting your body back and forth as his tongue slides into your channel, his breath hot each time he breaks to swallow you down. That bliss begins to swell, relief from longing for his body for so long finally within your reach.

Until he stops. And you pant and growl in frustration as that precious wave of orgasm washes out of your reach.

One last, long sweep of his tongue, and he moves out from under you. His hands squeeze hard into your ass, marking your pale, cold flesh with his nails, just a bit. Just enough for him to know you’ll sit with hidden discomfort for the rest of the night.

“You’ve earned my forgiveness, my lovely consort,” he raps, leaning over you, crushing you to kiss against that sensitive spot behind your ear. “And I’ve been wanting to this since the moment I left your bed, my pet…”

Recognition spikes up your spine, you know that warm, blunted head that slowly begins to enter you. Contented. Happy. You sigh and arch to look back, unable to see anything below his chest beyond that ridiculous pile of your skirts over your back. His gaze is fixed on your thighs, watching your folds swallow him up, the little tip of his tongue licking the corner of his mouth.

Sweat gathers under your mask, and you know your tints and kohl and paints are wrecked by now. But you don’t care. No one would notice under your demi-mask. And it was so worth it, to feel him buried deep inside you again.

That paradox of pressure and relief. To be so full and so happy again. A belly sated by his blood, a cunt brimming with his cock. Your delicate fingers grip into the edge of the balustrade, bracing yourself to ride his thrusts. The soft whines of music a merry tempo, one he almost seems to match as he fucks you. You groan, knowing it’s just a taste of the rest of your night, knowing that once your guests have basked in your presence for long enough, you’ll steal away, spending the rest of the night in each other’s arms.

For now he ruts into you, no holding back, no mercy or tenderness now. Just that blind drive to finally join with you after so long apart. If you close your eyes, you might as well be in some clearing near the Emerald Grove, addicted to giving one another your bodies. His sweet words in your ear, little grunts as he fucks with each snap of his hips.

Same cock… same arrogance… same moonlight-bathed faces twisted in pleasure as he takes you from behind. Even the scent of blossoms in your nose… truly just like when you knew nothing more than his charm and his vampirism. And didn’t you come to love all he was… all he became… the same and yet now so much more to you.

“I missed you…” you whisper into his mind, feeling how his body has wound tight through your bond, sensing his cock’s throb, his sensation of how good it feels inside you flooding your own body.

“I know,” he replies, a growl inside your ear, a caress of fangs in your mind. He chuckles into your thoughts, until his laughter turns into real breathless pants as that tension in his body claims its release. He slams into you, once… twice… until all you feel is the twitching head of his cock emptying inside. Leaning over your once more, Astarion places a kiss into your neck one more time. “I missed you too, my love…” he whispers for your ear alone. “Never again, my treasure. It was too long… too many horridly boring, ugly people. Why waste my time with riff raff when I could have just brought you with me.”

“At least you know better now,” you simper, moaning as he pulls from inside you, those skirts brushing over the raw, tender skin of your ass. You hiss, straightening.

“As do you, my naughty consort….” He’s already slipped himself back in his breeches. Bringing you in for a devouring kiss by grabbing your reddened and punished ass. Yelping, you kiss him back, feeling his wicked smirk against your lips. Pain shoots up your spine as he crushes the hard fabrics of your skits against your flesh… nevermind that your undergarments are abandoned on the ground now…You shrug, let them be.

You have no need for them, now that he’s returned.

He pulls you by your hand back towards the gala, retrieving his mask from the terrace, quickly replacing it on his handsome face.

You smile, shaking your head at his antics, his games… his rakish, seductive smirk. Licking your thumb, you clean the lingering streaks of your blood and cum from his chin. “There now, you look presentable, my Lord,” you speak in dulcet tones, regal and refined. “The Vampire Ascendant ready for his festivities, no longer unmasked like some feral, rutting monster.” You wink, a sly smile at him.

Hand braced at the back of your neck, he crushes you once more to his mouth, one more kiss, one more cleaning lick of his own tongue on your lips and chin. “And you, a radiant Regent Consort,” he grins, hands quickly, assuredly straightening your mask and crown. As you turn to enter, he whispers against your temple one more time. “Let’s turn some heads, shall we?” He offers you his arm, a gentlemanly bow at the waist, as if he hadn’t just been ramming into you on the terrace moments ago.

You flash him a smile, head held up high, as you enter the crowd and din and lights. They part like water before you, heads bowing… even the stony-gazed face of Wyll, new Duke Ravenguard, tips slightly in deference. He knows your power, cautious to upend the delicate balance you and he have established.

But Astarion… Lord Astarion… he carries you right past the Duke’s contingent, right up the dais stairs until he’s stopped before your thrones. He stops short, says nothing but a wave to the music to continue the festivities.

They promptly obey, and he sits in his throne… and before you can sidle over to yours, he wraps an arm about your waist and settles you on his lap.

You hiss, the bone of his thigh pressing hard on his bruises and bite marks that riddle your rear.

“Something the matter, my lady?” Wyll’s formal tone hasn’t changed a bit since your days on the road.

You glance up, smiling and demure. He’s grinning politely back, concern in his stone eye. Always that suspicion underlying his gaze, that mistrust of your new… vampirism. You widen your grin and give a little bubbly laugh. Assuaging the monster hunter. “Just so pleased to have Astarion back from his travels. I’ve felt so… empty… without him.” You hide the double entendre with a regal simper and a pat on his chest.

“Not too exhausted to enjoy your evening, I hope,” Wyll asks, pausing a bit too long until he adds, “my Lord?”

“Nothing I can’t manage to savor in spite of it, Wyll,” he jerked his head with a smile, shifting you higher up on his lap, dragging those raw marks to center over his still softening cock. “Now, enjoy your festivities, old friend….” He drags his fangs over the shell of your ear sucking it between his lips, a display of his desire for all to see. “We know we will.”

🌹 thank you to @glorious-void for the fanart, and to my consort coven: @marimosalad and @brabblesblog

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