#peasant reader

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Cherrywood

(1-2)

Short story # 19

Gif NOT mine.

Summary - On this night your land experiences the worst storm it's suffered in nearly a hundred years. Amidst the storm came a crashing noise like no other, and curiosity gets the better of you. When you find the source of the commotion, you are stunned to find the Rouge Prince unconscious beneath his fierce dragons wing.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 15 minutes

I haven't watched the show, or read the books. So please excuse any inaccuracies there might be.

"Easy boy, it's just a storm." (Y/n) murmured softly to her sheepdog, who whimpered and growled with every crack of thunder. She pet behind his ear, hoping to console her loyal dog. While still idly tending to her dinner over the hearth. "I hope Zero is okay." She muttered aloud, thinking of her horse sheltered in the barn. With a particularly loud crack of thunder, Leo whimpered and scurried under the nearby table. "Some guard dog you are." (Y/n) teased her pet playfully, felling sorry for him, but trying to make light of the situation. As she herself was afraid of what this storm would bring, and the damage that was bound to occur as it swept over her orchard. Thunder struck once more, but alongside it came a near deafening crash. "Oh no." Afraid the barn might have collapsed, (Y/n) rushed to grab her cloak. "Stay here." She called back to Leo, before rushing out the door of her cottage and into the storm. Lifting her head just enough to spot the barn, she was relieved to find it standing intact. But what had caused such a noise?

An animalistic yowl of sorts emitted from the shore afar, a sound unlike anything she'd heard before. Curiosity getting the better of her, (Y/n) began her treck towards the beach, wondering what sort of creature could make such a sound. The ground was soft and muddy beneath her boots, causing her to slip every so often, though she maintained her balance enough not to fall into the muck. Again the sound emitted from the beach, much louder now that she neared it's source. All that was left between her, and the creature, was a steep hill. With slow meticulous steps, she made her way up the hill, careful not to slip and fall all the way back down. When she reached the top, she cautiously peered over the top, as another deafening roar ripped through the night air. Her eyes immediately landed upon a mighty red dragon, and she was quick to duck her head back down, fear surging through her body at the sight of the beast. Again it roared and it sounded distressed, perhaps even in pain. "Gods protect me." She whispered softly, going against her better judgment, and peering over the hill at the mighty beast.

This time she observed a saddle strapped to the dragon, and when it shifted, she noticed the sigil for house Targaryen. "Not good, definitely not good." She muttered softly, as she scanned the beach for any sign of the rider. Her eyes quickly snapped back to the dragon, when it again shifted, this time lifting its wing just high enough for (Y/n) to spot the silhouette of someone laying in the sand. Assessing the situation (Y/n) concluded that something must be wrong with the rider, and the dragon was trying desperately to wake them with no success. "I must be crazy." She muttered under her breath as she worked up the courage to stand. Despite her body telling her to run for the hills, (Y/n) rose from her spot, and slowly descended down the hill towards the beast. Before she even reached the end of the hill, the dragons attention snapped to her, growling low in warning. "Definitely crazy." She breathed out quietly, holding her hands up in surrender to the beast. With slow steps she began walking towards the dragon, hoping it would understand that she meant no harm.

It's nostrils flared, as it bellowed smoke at her, halting her in her steps. "I only want to help, let me help please." She called out to the crimson beast, hoping she wouldn't be burned alive. The dragon shook its head, as if to dismiss the idea. "Their hurt, let me help." She tried again, her heart hammering when the dragon spread out it's wings, which covered the span of the beach itself. "I don't mean you harm, I just want to help." She kept her hands held out, bowing her head a little even, in hopes that it would understand her submission to its power. The dragon once more shifted, and turned its head to the side. It's furthest wing tucking back into its side. While the other wing over their rider remained outstretched. She took slow steps, not wanting to spook the beast into aggression, but wanting desperately to help the rider. When she finally reached them, she wasn't surprised to find that the man was definitely a Targaryen. If his clothes and dragon weren't enough to convince her, the long mane of snow white hair definitely was. His hair lay around him like that of a halo, and (Y/n) found herself stunned by how handsome he was, even drenched to the bone with rain.

She felt the dragons eyes on her, and tried to ignore it as she knelt beside the man. Carefully she pat his cheek, in a vain attempt to stir him awake. Though she suspected that if the loud bellowing roars of his dragon couldn't wake him, she would be just as unsuccessful. That is if he was even alive to begin with. Pulling her hood down, (Y/n) pressed her ear against the man's sternum, trying desperately to hear the rhythmic beating of a heart, over the rain pattering noisily on the dragons wing. Closing her eyes to try focusing better, she slowed her breaths, and strained to listen over the storm. "He's alive." She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally heard his heart beating steadily. She looked closely over his body, assisting that he had no major wounds that needed immediate tending to. Only to then realize she needed to get him back to her cottage somehow, and soon lest the cold take him while he sleeps. Looking back at the dragon she worried if it was something the beast would even allow. Though it had allowed her to come this close, perhaps even it knows what needs to be done.

She rose from her spot beside the man, removed her cloak, covering him with it, in an attempt to keep him warm. "I'll be back, I promise." She spoke to the dragon, still hoping it wouldn't lash out at her. It blew air out of its nose in her direction, and remained in place guarding its master. (Y/n) took that as her queue and dashed off towards her orchard. She became drenched in no time, shivering from the cold, but she ignored it and kept running home. Once there she made a beeline for the barn, barging in with enough force to startle her horse Zero. She rushed about, finding what she would need in order to transport the man back to her cottage. And old sled from when she was a child, which was designed to be pulled by a horse, was her go to. She also gathered rope and several blankets, before getting Zero's saddle onto him, along with the harness needed to strap the sled to. Once everything was ready, (Y/n) grabbed the spare cloak in the barn, pulled it on, and led Zero out into the storm. After she'd ensured the sled was secure, she pulled herself up onto the saddle, and set Zero into a trot back to the beach. Praying to the old gods and the new to protect her, to let the man still be alive, and to keep his dragon docile.

As she neared the hill Zero began to snort in discomfort and fear, sensing what was beyond the hill. "Easy buddy, we have to do this. Stay with me." She soothed him before ushering him to climb the hill. He neighed and pounded his hoof, before doing as he was told. When they reached the top of the hill, the dragon looked to them, and Zero reared up a little. "Easy Zero easy, it's okay." (Y/n) soothed him once more, her heart pounding noisily in her ears. The work horse snorted and trot in place for a moment, before slowly calming as the dragon showed no aggression. "Come on." She urged him forward, breathing a sigh of relief when he did so without hesitation. The dragon once more turned its head away when they neared, and Zero snorted in displeasure. "It's okay, we'll be okay." She assured him, hoping she was right about that. Once close enough (Y/n) dismounted Zero, and moved back to the man's side. Quickly and carefully she moved him onto the awaiting sled, covering him with several blankets to try and keep him somewhat dry, and clean from the mud Zeros hooves would kick up.

When she was satisfied with her work, she moved to secure several pieces of rope around him and the sled, to ensure he wouldn't fall off at any point during the trip. Certain that they wouldn't come untied or loose, she rose to her feet, gently patting Zero on the side. "Home Zero, take us home." She instructed the horse, remaining beside him to better watch over the man. Zero huffed once and began walking back towards home, his pace slow and calm. (Y/n) watched the dragon cautiously as they began the treck up the hill, hoping it would remain docile and wouldn't suddenly grow aggressive. However her anxiety didn't calm as the beast moved to follow them on foot. Trailing behind them like some massive winged dog, still loyal to its master and refusing to leave his side. Steadying her breathing she tried to focus on the task at hand, subconsciously wondering how in seven hells this all could have possibly happened. She'd heard the stories of the Targaryens, and they were renowned for their skill at dragon riding. Was it merely the storm that knocked them out of the sky? Or was it the work of something else entirely? What would happen if the man dies? Will the dragon kill her for not saving its master? Would the Targaryens kill her for not saving him?

Shaking her head of those thoughts she kept her eyes forward, as they neared her home. Pushing Zeros side a little to guild him to the barn. The dragon walked the opposite direction, making itself comfortable beside the cottage, though still watching (Y/n)'s every move. Quickly she removed Zeros saddle and harness, ushering him into his stall which she latched behind him. Still utilizing the sled, (Y/n) picked up the straps and began hauling him out herself, closing up the barn, then continuing on to the cottage. Luckily the front door was wide, which allowed her to pull the sled straight into the cottage and out of the rain. "Stay." She warned Leo who was still under the table where she'd left him. He wined but complied to her command. Setting to work (Y/n) removed the ropes and blankets, and even removed the top layers of the riders clothes. Knowing he needed to get warm, and into dry clothes before the cold could set in and make him sick. Thinking momentarily about the things her mother had taught her, she determined that it would be best for his health, if she just removed all of his wet clothes.

Before doing so she pulled the sled closer to the hearth, so he could get warm and dry off faster. Uncomfortable with the thought of a naked man she didn't even know laying unconscious in her home, she found a clean dry cloth and covered his modesty. "Leo come." She called to her sheepdog, who rushed to her side and followed her into her room. Closing the door behind her, (Y/n) quickly shed off her own wet clothes, dried herself with clean linen, and redressed into dry clothes. "Stay." She told Leo before she left the room, closing the door behind her for good measure. Afterwards she made her way to the room her and her brother shared when they were children, finding a decent pair of trousers tucked away in a chest. With those in hand she made her way back to the main part of the cottage, assessing the man to see if he was dry. Determining he was plenty dry, she worked to get him changed into the trousers, relived to find that they fit him just fine. Noticing the bruises on his ribs she retrieved a healing salve she made herself, gently rubbing a generous amount onto all the places she found bruises and scratches. Aside from those he seemed relatively unharmed. Again she walked off to her childhood room, retrieving a loose top from the same chest as before.

And before leaving the room, she assessed the only remaining bed within the room. It was a little dusty, but it would have to do for the night. She pulled the furs from the bed, and replaced them with cleaner furs. Flipping over the pillows she hoped it didn't smell musty, and the man would simply appreciate that she even helped him at all. Satisfied with her work, she grabbed the shirt, and made her way back to the man. Dressing him in the shirt with a gentle touch, she wondered who exactly this man was. Judging by his exquisite clothes he had to be a Targaryen of some importance, although most of them as far as she knew were of great importance. Mustering her strength, and bracing herself, (Y/n) carefully hauled the man up from the sled. And carried him as best she could to the bedroom she intended on letting him use. When she reached the room, she fell backwards onto the bed with an exhausted huff, groaning at the added weight of the man now laying on top of her, with his back against her chest. Carefully she maneuvered her way out from under him, then pulled him the rest of the way onto the bed. Afterwards tucking him under the fur covers, then leaving to rest by the hearth for a while.

After eating her dinner, (Y/n) determined that his clothes would need to be cleaned soon. Securing her cloak around her shoulders, she rushed out into the rain. Her heart jumping at the sight of the sleeping dragon, having forgotten about its presence until now. Swallowing the lump in her throat she made her way to the well, gathering several buckets of water over the span of several minutes. And filling a large cauldron over the hearth to warm the water in order to properly clean the clothes. When the water was sufficiently warm, she transferred the water from the cauldron into the washbasin. Thoroughly cleaning the clothes with care as to not cause them any damage, but get them sufficiently clean and tidy. She worked into the small hours of the morning, cleaning the clothes, and hanging them near the hearth to dry faster. Afterwards she cleaned the mess from doing laundry, and the small mess she'd made earlier in the day while preparing dinner. Lastly she cleaned up the mess made from the muddy sled she'd dragged into her home. By the time she was finished, the sun was beginning to rise, the storm subsiding a short while ago. And in that time she'd accidentally fallen asleep sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall across from the hearth.

While she rest soundly in the main room of the cottage, Daemon began to stir awake. Hissing in discomfort at the stinging pain in his sides, and the dull throb of his head. He felt hungover, and as if he were half on deaths door. Regardless he opened his eyes, blinking away the drowsy need to close them again. Realizing quickly that he didn't know where he was, or how he got there. Clearly it wasn't the castle, and the more he tried remembering the night before, the more confused he was. He remembered arguing with his brother, about something trivial, and then taking Caraxes for a ride. Then he remembered the storm, he remembered flashes of lightning nearly striking them out of the sky. And he remembered falling for what felt like an eternity. He quickly rushed out of the bed, trying to ascertain where he ended up. Barging out of the room, he half expected to be in a tavern or maybe even a brothel. And he was admittedly a tad bit surprised to find himself in a quant cottage instead. He wandered around the room, only realizing he wasn't in his own clothes, when he saw his hanging near the hearth. Peering around the hearth he finally spotted his host, sound asleep and looking exhausted.

He wondered how longs she'd been awake, and if she had been the one to bring him into her home. Caraxes made a noise from outside, startling the woman awake, which made Daemon smirk softly. "You're awake!" She breathed out in near astonishment, quickly standing from her spot on the floor. "Who might you be?" He asked her, committing her face to memory. "(Y/n) Voss, my lord." She bowed her head respectively. "I am no mere lord, sweetling, I am Prince Daemon Targaryen." He held his head high, smirking again at her clear surprise. "My Prince." She bowed more respectively, but Daemon waved it off. "Daemon will suffice." He hummed watching her closely as she relaxed before him. "How did I get here?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "I brought you here, I found you on the beach last night during the storm. Your dragon... It made quite a commotion, and I went to investigate." She looked almost bashful, making the Rouge Prince smile. "And he let you bring me here?" He inquired curiously. "It took some convincing, but he's a smart creature, and I think he knew I only wanted to help you." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You must be a special creature to gain the trust of a dragon so quickly." Daemon mused with a grin, loving the faint blush that dusted her cheeks.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

Part two ->

[litchi0jo]

(Tea time part 2)

Y/N: *hands him a cup* I made more tea.

Jinwoo: Wow, this time it’s steaming hot.

Y/N: I thought you were going to cool it down since you’re so cold.

Beru: This peasant is right, my liege.

Bonus :

Y/N: Am I the peasant?

Beru: Yes…*was threatened by Jinwoo*…but my lady you are like the queen of the peasants.

Y/N: Thank you... I guess? ( ‾̮‿͂‾̮ ꐦ)

(Everyone is a peasant in Jinwoo's kingdom for Beru, don't make me swear)

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

PLEASEPLEASEPLEAEEPLEASEPLEASE I FW YOUR YANDWRE NIGHTCLUB SO BAD YOU ACTUALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND bartenders give me the absolute best gender euphoria and like. I'm kissing your forehead (with consent) I love you thank you my kids have been watered my crops fed I hope your next days and the rest of the month will be the most absolutely joyful or as joyful as it could get thank you 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Of course, of course I'm glad to have fed the children, I've decided to make this MC both sketchy and an airhead because I couldn't choose. All your comments mean a lot even if I've been no contact for a while.

Intro Drabble:

Reader Type: Sweet, Airheaded, Mysterious, Dangerous, Calculated

You walk into the black and neon pink building aptly named "The Flamingo" whistling as you button up your light brown vest. Another day another dollar, this time you were earning legally! Starting fresh was hard but well worth the sense of peace you began to feel. Already a week and you've been promoted to bartender!

At the front door you are greeted by a burly figure wearing a barn owl mask. The sight of this tall intimidating figure made your grin widen. "Hey Barnie, just checking in for my shift!" The figure stares out of the wide beady eyes of the mask. You smile pleasantly as "Barnie" as you dubbed him holds the door open for you.

Before opening time, the rose-colored nightclub was almost peaceful. The few employees milling about in their assigned bird masks. You zero in on your fellow bartender, "Raven". The individual was covered head to toe in an all-black outfit, the only thing visible was their dark purple hair that shown glossily under the lights.

"Raven!" You chirp gleefully at the sight of the sharp beaked plague doctoreque mask they wore. "Raven" seemed to perk up under their mask at the sound of your voice. "(Y-) I mean Mourning Dove, where's your mask?" Oops silly you it was on the back of your head. You giggle at your own silly mistake. Fixing the dove mask with soft light brown and gray coloring to your face.

"How do I look?" You tease while spinning around multiple times. Two firm gloved hands stop you from falling over. "Dizzy." Raven responds causing you to giggle at your coworker again. Silly Raven, always so literal.

"Hey Dovey, how've you been?" You beam at the sight of Robin in all her tomboyish glory. Robin's short bright red hair made her look almost like a cardinal, especially with how it stands up in little spikes.

"Hi Robin, I like your new suit jacket it's very nice." Robin normally wears a loosely buttoned red shirt and black leather pants, but she was also wearing a brown suit jacket today. Robin shakes her masked face and sighs. "Flamingo thought it would be best to "look more professional", I think the bastard's mad I can actually get some." The robin mask turns to look at you.

"Speaking of you free after this Dovey? I know we shouldn't meet outside of work but I'm dying to know if you're as cute as you sound." Wowie the Robin asking you out on a date, you never thought you'd see the day. Coyly you drag your pointer finger along the grain of the wooden bar top. Before you can agree Raven interjects "Robin you know the rules, no outside interaction unless necessary." Oh, right the rules do say that.

Robin shrugs before turning to you one last time. "Guess we'll have to have our little date during a break. Bye bye dovey!" With that the woman struts confidently off to do her job. "Bye Robin!" What a nice woman!

A warm arm wraps around your shoulder as your coworker bends down to your level (you're shorter than raven no matter how tall you are). "You know you really shouldn't encourage her, she's real dangerous." You smile at the small pout in the taller person's voice.

"Aw Raven you care about me?" Raven's a big softie and you exploit this fact as seeing them flustered made your day. However, you felt a sour taste enter your mouth at their words. Every single person working for/ affiliated with "The Flamingo" was dangerous.

You were no exception

"The Flamingo" was in full swing as patrons were laughing and dancing while the pulsing music plays. The noise didn't bother you too much as you put in a pair of earplugs. Raven was making a drink for some client when you hear someone sit down rather harshly

"Make something strong, I don't care what it is." A haggard looking guy in a white collar uniform smacks you with a pile of cash before laying headfirst on the bar. "Okie dokie!" You decide to make a Long Island Iced Tea since he didn't specify. Mixing and humming you turn when you hear crying. "I just don't understand why she won't except me!" The sloppy man cried out without alcohol, ooh boy this isn't good.

"Aww what's the matter, troubles with your girlfriend?" You coo as you set the drink down. The man doesn't answer as he slams the drink down far too fast. "She got a restraining order against me, she said she wouldn't! I thought we were fine but now she doesn't want to see me!" Normally you needed to ply customers with a few more drinks before they discuss darlings but not this guy. He's probably unstable because of the heartbreak, the poor man (don't feel bad for him)!

"That's awful! How could she do that to you?" You set down another drink and receive more cash. The more alcohol he drank the more confident her became. "Right?! We've been destined since childhood; then my soulmate abandons me because I killed her boyfriend." Hmm interesting.

"Did you know her schedule?" The man stares confused and drunk at your patient form. "Well, I-" "You claim to love her and don't know her full schedule. If you're going to have an obsession, do it right, and don't murder near her." Geez these jokes of yanderes get worse every time.

You hated when people claimed passionate and obsessive love and then wuss out or act stupid. It was disgusting to think that poor girl was being stalked by suck an amateur. You bet you could kill this guy and do that woman a favor. Gripping a concealed fruit peeler, you imagine what damage you could do.

"Dove, are you okay?"

Oh, dear the thoughts are back, bad dove bad. You're grateful for Raven's interference even if they weren't aware of your thoughts. No need to get fired over a "mistake". Besides it's just one guy how bad can it be tonight.

You feel like stabbing someone or yourself, how in the world did all of the yanderes in this city suck so much? These dangerous predators who put fear into innocent people were hopeless. You felt every bit of peppiness drain from your body with each man, woman, and person who entered and complained.

These people chose to be dangerous and live on the dark side when they could have a nice normal life with a mutual love. A life you always dreamed of.

A life you would kill for.

It's just not fair that you have to do illegal things to get by. Each complaint from these whiny and selfish individuals got to you very bad. Next person who even breaths on you is in trouble.

"Can I-"

"What the fuck to you mentally deranged assholes want now?!" This was completely unlike you and scared everyone around you. You saw red as the poor soul shook in front of you.

Now that you see this girl or effeminate person, they look...harmless. Short light blue hair shaped into a bob complimenting her round freckled face and a pale plush body covered in a cheap trashy maroon dress that clashed with her appearance. Her eye makeup was also smudged from crying which made you soften. Poor girl was having a rough night too.

"Oh, sorry about that, I thought you were one of the weird drunks here." The girl laughs softly still looking nervous but a bit more comfortable. "No, my sister and her friends came here to pick up hot guys."

"I'm guessing your silly sister put you in that dress." The girls pale face turns red as grenadine. "Was it that obvious? I don't really have clubbing clothes, so my sis borrowed one from her friends." You could see the girl looking to an obnoxious brunette with a gaggle of equally drunk women dancing provocatively. Hee hee they look like wet spaghetti noodles. You giggle to yourself causing the girl in front of you to smile shyly.

"I'm Penny, what's your name?" Penny was adorable and fun to be around, but company policy prevents you from revealing yourself. "You may call me Dove and I can be your bartender tonight." Penny shakes her head. "No thanks, I'm not a fan of alcohol. I'm probably going to go home and wipe this ridiculous makeup off of my face." Hmm she seems a little too innocent to know the "regulars" of your fine establishment. "Hey, why don't you let Raven walk you home, it's a bit dangerous here at night." Your suggestion leaves the bartender baffled. You look over at them and tilt your masked head cutely. "I know they don't mind since they're that nice." Raven sighs before nodding. "Alright, lead the way." Penny blushes at her close proximity to your muscular colleague. "Okay, bye Dove! I hope to see you again." You wave the two off before returning to your duties.

You hope for her sake you never see her again.

"I'm jealous that you move on so quickly Dovey, do I mean nothing to you?" Robin returns in all her glory, shirt ever more unbuttoned than before. "Oh, don't worry Robin you're still a good friend of mine!" You were telling the truth as since you got here everyone has been so kind. Robin nods while sitting on the counter leaning forward. "I was hoping if you're not too busy you could make some drinks, and we could...talk." Ooh how fun, you've never been to a club as a guest before! You fix two Shirley Temples for you and your red friend before sitting beside her. "Shirley Temples?" Oh right Robin likes alcohol a lot. You lunge to grasp a bottle of vodka and pour the amount of two shots into her glass.

"That's why you're my favorite Dovey you know me so well." You giggle and waggle a gloved finger in the red head's face. "I've only worked here a week Robin. In response, the woman in front of you grasps your hand and lifts her mask enough to place a small kiss on your palm. "Our line of work doesn't bring as many cuties as you." Robin was so funny with her weird friend jokes. It was weird that she didn't do this with the others.

The taste of ginger ale and grenadine swirl in your mouth coating your tongue in its sweetness. You hold the ruby red cherry by the stem and hold it out to devour. A sneaky thief from across from you popped the cherry into her mouth. You see her smirk from under her mask as she chews. Your playful moment is interrupted by a tall, masked figure with a horned owl mask. "Boss wants to talk to you." What did you do wrong? Are you getting fired. Pulling the mask over your face, you follow the owl man. As you disappear Robin grasped your unattended drink and places her lips over where yours were.

The private rooms were where the more "interesting" activities occurred. No one ever told you what happened, so you never asked. Ooh the people in the second VIP room sound like they were having a good time! You jolt to a stop after bumping into the firm frame of the masked person before you. You must have arrived at your location.

You heard about the woman who ran "The Flamingo" a charming and ambitious socialite. He nightclub was the most successful nightclub in the city becoming a haven for sinners and saints alike. In your old profession you remember people whispering about the magnetic bombshell. You hoped she was as affable as people claimed her to be.

An impatient huff came from inside as you heard a woman's voice cursing before the door slid open revealing another owl mask wearing man. "Ms. Flamingo has been expecting you Mourning Dove." A deep voice rumbled as you recognize the man to be "Barnie". The owls nodded and left you shut in a dark room. Smoke unfurled from the shadows as a light pink glow filled the room. "Thank god those thugs left, I thought they'd frighten you dear!"

A really young-looking woman with long pink hair sits effortlessly on a rose-colored chaise with white accents. The rest of the room came alive with its bright and cheerful color scheme of pinks whites and golds. "Sit sit sit I'd hate it if I'm the only one sitting." The woman chirps out pink feather boa flapping around like wings. You giggle and bounce over to the seat across from the lively woman. Her glossy lips pull into a smile as she looks at you.

"You must be the newest hire Brenard told me about. Come on take off your mask I want to see my new employee." Eagerly you raise your mask off your face flashing a charming grin. You hope that comes off as charming at least.

"OMG you're so attractive, like literally my perfect type!" Your boss smushes your face in her hands causing you to feel embarrassed. Do people normally do this in interviews? Your boss lets go with a pretty laugh, green eyes full of mirth on her tan face. "Tienes un cara muy bonita." Ms. Flamingo gushes and you bask in the positive attention. "Uh you too." You hope whatever you said was a compliment back to her. The woman laughs and claps her hands. "You're so funny, I just might have to keep you for myself. Wouldn't want a customer stealing you away." Your boss is so silly with her jokes! After all you won't let anyone keep you.

Not without a fight

I hope the MC (you guys aka Dove) is to your liking, I feel like too many of my MCs can come off as a blank slate. I also think it would be a fun twist to make a cheery and bubbly MC with some skeletons in their closet. I will also be making a file for each of the characters (much like my cat cafe ocs).

Since there isn't to my knowledge a gender-neutral pronoun, I mix up the feminine and masculine so if native Spanish speakers come for me about that it is intentional. Also, I'm using Lucita to practice and because I like trying to diversify my ocs (white and asian people aren't the only crazy bitches). For plot purposes MC won't understand Spanish (how's a girl to plot when darling understands what you're saying)

Not fully canon just testing the waters for ideas:

Shoebill: chef personality: off-putting yet kind (like the bird holy shit they a creepy looking) (to dove), gentle, patient (scarily so), sadistic

Blue Jay: the DJ, loud and obnoxious, good at black mail, boastful

Nightingale: Songstress/Singer (can be male) personality: gentle, elegant, shy, melancholy, cold

Condor: Janitor good humored and bizarre (creepy)

Swan: "Entertainer" graceful, charismatic, possessive, loyal

Hummingbird: server hyper, cheerful, efficient

Other "customers"

[bluephoenixgirl]

Fairytale

Prince!Harry Styles x Peasant!Reader

Warnings: Forbidden Love, Some Fluff, Some Angst, Little Age Gab Between Harry and Reader, And Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry If I Forgot Any!)

Summary: Y/N’s father wants his daughter to have nothing to do with the royals, but that doesn’t stop Y/N from falling in love with Prince Harry.

Word Count: 2,773

Author’s Note: I’ve wanted to write something like this for the longest time! This story is based off of so many Disney movies! If you aren’t a fan of Disney movies or fast moving love stories, I would skip this one! Anyways hope you all enjoy my first Harry Styles story!!

Y/N was in her bedroom brushing her Y/H/L Y/H/C hair. She was using the small mirror that was hanging on her wall. Y/N lives in a small town with her parents. Y/N is the only child and just turned nineteen years old a couple of months ago. They live in a two-bedroom farmhouse.

Y/N and her parents grow crops and sell them in town to make money. They have a little stand in town and sell fruits and vegetables. Sometimes her mother even makes bread to sell as well.

After Y/N finished brushing her hair she set her brush down onto her dresser. When she looked out her window the large castle caught her eye like it always does.

King and Queen Styles live there with their twenty-one-year-old son named Harry. Prince Harry is an only child so when his father passes on, Harry will become King. Y/N has always wanted to go to the castle. Every-time she sees the castle she can’t help but stare at it in awe.

However, that dream always get’s shattered by her father. Since Y/N and her family are peasants her father thinks they shouldn’t mix with the royals. Her father tells her that royals are snobs and don’t care about peasants which is absolutely not true. Maybe it was true when her father was younger, but the the royals now truly care for everyone. No matter how many times Y/N has told her father that, it just goes through one ear and out the other one. It breaks Y/N’s heart when she hears her father talk bad about the royals.

“Y/N! Come down and eat!” She heard her mother call out to her which broke her gaze away from the castle. “Coming!” Y/N called back out. She slipped on her brown flats. She gave one last glance at the castle and then walked out of her bedroom.

She walked down the steps and into the kitchen. Her mother was fixing her a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon and her father was sitting at the table reading the daily newspaper while drinking coffee. “There you are! Sit and eat.” Her mother told sitting the plate of food down on the table in front of an empty chair. “Thanks mother.” Y/N said with a soft smile as she sat down at the table across from her father. “You’re welcome, dear.” Her mom said returning the smile and walked back to the counter to start cleaning up the mess she made making the food.

“While your mother and I are at the stand I need you to stay back and pick the crops.” Her father told her putting down the newspaper, so he was looking at her. “Yes, father.” Y/N told him with a nod and took a bite from a price of bacon.

Y/N did everything she could to hold in a sign or groan. She hates having to stay back and pick the crops, but she knows not to argue with her father.

Her father has a soft spot but when it comes to the family business, he is very stern and strict.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N was out in the garden picking the vegetables and putting them in a big basket. She was almost done picking all the vegetables and then after that it’s time to pick the fruits. Y/N stood up from the ground to put her hair up into a ponytail. The sizzling sun was making her sweat. After she finished putting her Y/H/C hair up, she knelled back down into the dirt and continued to pick the cucumbers off the vines.

Once her hands were full, she turned to put them into the basket she was met with a surprise that scared her. It was a big white horse eating the carrots out of the basket. “No, no, no!” Y/N said dropping the cucumbers so she could shoo away the horse. “Bad horse.” She said standing up and guiding the horse away from the basket.

“Where did you even come from?” Y/N asked as she lightly petted the horse. “There you are.” She heard a voice say in a relief tone. When Y/N saw who the voice belonged to her eyes went wide in surprise. It’s the prince. Prince Harry. He was wearing black dress pants with a white buttoned up shirt. Y/N didn’t realize she was staring at him till he said something.

“I’m so sorry about Sparky here. He likes to escape.” Harry told her walking over to her and the horse. “It’s okay, it happens.” Y/N told him in a reassuring tone. “Thank you.” Harry told her with a kind smile. Y/N returned the kind smile. “You’re welcome.” Y/N told him.

“I’m Harry, though you probably already know that, so I don’t know why I’m telling you that.” Harry said as his cheeks turned red in embarrassment. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “It’s okay.” Y/N told him reassuring him again. “I’m Y/N.” Y/N said introducing herself. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Y/N.” Harry told her. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, Prince Harry.” Y/N said back. “Please, just call me Harry.” Harry told her. He hates when people always call him Prince Harry. When people just call him by his name, it makes him feel like a regular guy. “Okay, Harry.” Y/N said correcting herself.

There was a silence between them as they just stared into each other’s eyes. Y/N was the first one to look away as she snapped back into reality. “I should get back to work.” Y/N said to him. “Wait!” Harry said before she could turn and walk away. “Are you doing anything tonight?” Harry asked her in a curious tone. “No.” Y/N answered with a shake of the head. She was a little confused on why he was asking her that question.

“At the castle tonight, my parents are holding a ball that’s opened up to everyone. I would love for you to come.” Harry said which made her heart rate speed up. He wants her to attend the ball. She wants to attend, but she knows her father won’t let her go. “Oh, I don’t know.” Y/N said with an unsure tone in her voice. “Just think about it.” Harry told her with a charming smile which melted Y/N’s heart. She watching him walk away with the horse.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Once Y/N finished picking all of the crops she went inside to take a shower and wash off all the sweat and dirt off her skin. When she finished brushing out her hair, she heard the front door open and close which meant her parents are home. Y/N quickly walked out of her bedroom and down the steps. When she walked into the kitchen she heard her parents in the living room. She walked into the living room which got her parents attention.

“Mother, father, I have a really important question to ask.” Y/N told them. “What is it, dear?” Her mother asked her in a curious tone. Y/N took a deep breath to calm her nerves down. “Tonight, the castle is having a ball that’s open to everyone, and I was wondering-” Y/N was saying but before she could ask the question her father cut her off. “No, you’re not going.” Her father told her in a stern tone.

“But father-” Y/N said, but again her father cut her off. “No! I’m not letting my daughter go to a snobby ball!” Her father told her. “The answer is no and that’s final.” Her father told her with a stern look in his eyes.

Tears quickly filled Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes. Her father wouldn’t even let her talk.

Y/N just turned away and walked out of the room and into the kitchen. She went upstairs and into her room.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N was in her room sitting on her bed with tears rolling down her cheeks. It wasn’t fair. Her father is being unreasonable. She doesn’t know why her father has so much against the royals. They have never taken away anything from the townspeople.

Y/N heard a knock on her wooden door. “Go away!” Y/N called out not wanting to talk. She thought it was her father, but she heard her mother’s voice instead. “I have a surprise for you.” She heard her mother tell her. “Okay, you can come in.” Y/N called out to her as she used both of her hands to wipe away her tears.

Her mother walked into the room holding a beautiful blue ball gown. “Oh my gosh.” Y/N said in amazement as she got up from her bed. “Do you like it?” Her mom asked her to close the door. “I love it! It’s so beautiful.” Y/N said looking at the dress in awe.

“I was wearing this dress the night I met your father, and I want you to wear it to the ball.” Her mother told her handing the dress over to her. “You’re letting me go?” Y/N said taking the dress with a surprised look in her eyes. “I know that this is your dream.” Her mother told her with a smile. Y/N’s lips turned up into a big smile.

“Now let’s get you ready for the biggest night of your life.” Her mother said with excitement in her voice.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N’s mother helped her change into the dress that fit Y/N perfectly. Her mother pinned up her hair and did her make up. The make up matched the dress’s color. Her mother gave her the matching slippers to the dress. The slippers were the same color as the dress but were sparkly. Her mother told her to be back by midnight and helped her sneak out the back door. Y/N thanked her mother and made her way towards the castle.

When Y/N got to the castle she looked up at it in awe. It’s even more beautiful up close. When she walked inside, she was surprised she wasn’t nervous. She couldn’t believe she was inside the castle. Y/N followed the crowd to the ball room.

She looked around the room till her eyes landed on Harry. He was all dressed up into his royal suit. He didn’t look very into the gathering. That was till his green eyes met Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes. His lips turned up into a smile as he walked over to her.

“You’re here.” Harry said obviously very happy to see her. “I’m so glad you decided to come.” Harry added. “I’m glad, too.” Y/N told him.

“You look beautiful.” Harry told her which made her heart start race. “Thank you.” Y/N said with a little giggle.

“Would you like to dance?” Harry asked holding out one of his hands for her to take. Y/N felt no hesitation. “Of course.” Y/N answered putting her hand into his’s.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N spent the whole evening with Harry. They just have the perfect click. The whole night they couldn’t keep their eyes off one another. Harry took Y/N outside to one of the balconies so they could get away from all of the noise and get some fresh air. They sat down onto one of the benches and looked up at the stars.

“The stars are so beautiful.” Y/N said looking up at the stars. “They sure are.” Harry said looking away from the sky and at her. Y/N looked over at him and their eyes just locked.

They started to lean in but before their lips could touch the bell from the clock tower went off. It was midnight which meant she missed her curfew.

“Oh no!” Y/N said with panic filling her body. “I have to go!” Y/N said quickly standing up from the bench. Before she could run away Harry took her hand. “You have to go? Why?” Harry asked not wanting her to leave. “I was supposed to be home by midnight. My father doesn’t even know that I’m here.” Y/N told him.

“Will I ever see you again?” Harry asked her with hope in his voice. Y/N let out a sigh as she shook her head no. “My father will never allow it.” Y/N told him with a frown.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N said letting go of his hand and quickly walked away leaving Harry heartbroken.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Days have passed and Harry can’t get Y/N out of his head. Even though they have only had two encounters he knows that Y/N is the one. As they danced together, he knew he was falling in love with her. He doesn’t know why Y/N’s father won’t allow her to see him. His parents allow him to interact with anyone. Wether they are royalty or not.

“Dear? Are you alright?” The Queen asked her son. Harry broke out of his thoughts. He was sitting at the dinning table with his parents for breakfast. “You haven’t touched any of your food.” The Queen told him with worry in her voice. “I’m not hungry.” Harry said with a sigh.

“Is everything alright?” The King asked his son with worry now in his voice as well. “I met this girl, and I just know that she’s the one.” Harry told his parents. “That’s wonderful, sweetie!” The Queen said with an excited smile. “But it’s not going to happen. Her father won’t allow her to see me.” Harry said with another sad sigh.

“Harry, do you really think that this girl is the one?” The King asked him. “Yes, father.” Harry answered with a nod. “Are you truly in love with her?” The King asked him. “Of course, father.” Harry answered him. “Then you need to fight for her.” The King told him. “If you truly know that she is the one, you can’t give up on her.” The King explained to him.

Harry knew everything his father told him, was right. He can’t give up on having a future with Y/N.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N’s parents were downstairs in the living room while Y/N was upstairs in her room. Her father was reading the newspaper while her mother was knitting a sweater.

There was a knock on the door. Y/N’s father closed the newspaper and sat it down onto the table. He got out of his seat and walked over to the door and opened it to see two kingdom guards.

“Hello sir, we are in order of the Prince.” One of the guards said. “In order? For what?” Y/N’s father said with confusion in his voice. The two guards stepped to the side to travel Harry. “Sir, I am asking for your blessing to ask your daughter to be my wife.” Harry told him in a kind tone.

Before Y/N’s dad could say anything her mother quickly stepped in. “Gentlemen, please come in. I need to speak to my husband in the kitchen.” Y/N’s mother said to them with kindness. She took her husband’s hand and took him into the kitchen with her.

“They have the wrong house.” He said in a stern tone in his voice. “No, they don’t.” She told him. Y/N’s father quickly became confused. “What’s going on?” Y/N asked walking down the stairs. “Prince Harry is here to ask for your hand in marriage.” Her mother told her taking her by surprise.

Harry is actually here, in her house. She took a glance into the living and saw him standing there with two guards.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” Her father asked with frustration starting to lose his patience. “I went to the ball.” Y/N told him looking back at her father. “You disobeyed my orders?” Her father said with disappointment in his voice.

“Father, I spent the whole night with Harry, and it was perfect.” Y/N told him. “I love him.” Y/N confessed. “You do?” Her mother asked in surprise. Y/N gave her mother a nod.

Her father knew that she was telling the truth by the look she has in her eyes.

“Come.” Her father said walking into the living room. Y/N and her mother followed him.

“Prince Harry, I believe you have a question to ask my daughter.” Her father said with a smile.

Harry smiled walking up to Y/N. He took a small box out from the pocket in his pants. He bent down on one knee and opened the box to reveal a beautiful ring. “Y/N, will you marry me?” Harry asked her. Y/N’s lips turned up into a huge smile. “Yes!” She answered with nothing but excitement in her voice.

Harry took the ring out of the box and put the ring onto Y/N’s hand.

Right when Harry stood up Y/N jumped into his arms and connected her lips with his lips for a perfect first kiss.

[drgnflyteabox]

I would like to politely request more of the knights!141 poly au, if it's not too much trouble! I very much like the concept and would love to see more if you don't mind.

I don't have many ideas for them tbh :') 18+ mdni below

I think once they depose your husband and deal with your dramatics about it (with a firm hand to the backside), you're pretty damn busy. Four of them to feed, to take care of... it's a lot. But at the very least they receive a salary from the king, so you aren't beholden to backbreaking labour as much to survive.

You still manage a garden. You have to, to eat, to feed them. But you can buy part of your food supply now and that frees you up for other activities. Namely letting one or more of them slip a thick cock in one or more holes, then taking all their come like a good wife :')

They felt so sorry for you that your useless husband hadn't given you a baby yet. They'll fix it, just wait.

[ohimsummer]

i am very obsessed w/ the toxic cult leader! suguru x reader dynamic

[fishyvamp]

Thinking about Court Jester!Ghostface standing on stage at a festival. the queen is sat beside the King with two brave knights by their sides. The man who dares to scream and taunt on stage for all to see;

"Ladies and slimes and everyone who dares to climb, come quick, come quick!" Bells ringing as he prances around the stage his hat flopping about as children giggle at the scene. "I have a tale to share in honor of our newly crowned queen!" He bowed twirling his hat off his head revealing a mop of shaggy disheveled black hair. His eyes glancing up lingering on each one standing in the royal stand. Smirking as he felt the Captain stare him down. "I have tale, most fictional! But it tis grand and it tis smart and it tis only mine to tell. So listen closely..." He voice dropping softly watching as the crowd leaned in only to shout, "but not too close! For I shall scream my tale for it must be seen!"

Arms raised to the sky the bells of his feet jingling as he moved about, "tis a dark tale of deception, murder, and most importantly—" his wrist flicking out to reveal a rose holding it out to you to take, "Love most forbidden." A smile bright on his painted face.

He stood up straight covering his face, "but oh contrare my most debonair for I hath seen it's beauty plain in the eye of my mind it drives me insane I might die!" He placed above his head rocking on his feet as if to faint, falling back before stomping forward startling the crowd. "But I shall live and release this pain for all to hear so I may gain some semblance of..." His breath stalling the sentence trailing off his gaze cast downward seemingly locked on you. Before snapping away.

"there once was lonely prince of far away whose desires of love were not what he should crave. A servant! A slave!" He shouted crouching low hands in front of him as if ready to lunge, "A slave? You might say, tis true. A prince who was blue who craves a slave. A slave who is bound with one rule, a rule only a fool would break. Protect the prince, let him not ache. For if he did, the king would quake."

The court jester looked upon the crowd eyeing each and everyone memorizing their looks. His movements wide and broad, "Little did the king of madness know of the prince of sadness that he already ached, his mind slaved away trying to purge his thoughts of gay." He clawed at his clothes as his cadence became desperate. Falling to his knees, before looking up with soulful look. "The king must never know." He whispered longingly reaching out to the captain of the guard. Head dropping as he turned to the crowd face going blank. "The slave must never know." Hands pawing at the stage as he crawled along the polished wood, bells clanging with each step. "The slave must never know," he repeated reaching out to you. Before pulling away abruptly rising to his feet hands held to his chest.

"but if madness know anything, it knows to hurt." The words almost melancholy, "it knows to look; to find the sadness and make it grow! It lashes! lashes out tearing into flesh and bone!" His words louder with each word as he pulls away from himself, "you could hear the cry and as the slave screamed, chained and bound; helpless to fight, for the prince he must protect, but the king he must serve."

The jesters hands falling to his sides as he bows his head, "the prince he must protect, but the king he must serve" his words echoing on the stage. His pacing slow as he carried on, "the slave wept mourning the prince. Mourning the softness he brought. The slave had been greedy, being so needy as to crave the prince himself... He too died that day a heart so shattered it could scarcely beat." A single tear sliding down his face as he lets a silence linger over the space. "Tis a shame that tattered lovers were torn apart, but fret not their corpses did rise. A secret they vowed to keep the slave purging himself of his vows as he plunged a blade deep in the chest of a beast who will forever now sleep!"

The jester now facing the new queen, "whatever do you think a bride feel to know her groom had lied? To think he lived a corpse that loved another, but will never love her?" The Queen's personal guard moving closer hand on the back of her chair. The jester already thinking of ways to tell that tale at the next festival. The King's inner circle knows the truth, but to you it is just a tragedy. A story told by a man you wish would pay you mind even off that wretched stage. The rose sharp in your hand blood staining the stone below you as you clutched that rose.

[q1mblrrd]

In The Eyes of God

Castiel x Dean (Destiel) 💙💚

Word count: 1,988 (low count I’m sorry)

Cas and Dean are forbidden lovers, prince x peasant. PART FIVE (I KNOW ITS LATE IM SORRY)

Part 4 :

Part six:

Warnings: none for this chapter!

Three weeks had passed since their excursion to the city, and nearly every day since that time Castiel had been busy with some kind of royal work that prevented the two from seeing each other. The only thing Dean had to work with was the searing memory of finding the chance to shove the other in a towel closet just a few days ago, but those embers seemed to burn strong in the back of his mind. It kept his mind away from the stinging pain in his hands from working at repairs on the barn roof all day. He had a bad habit of letting his thoughts wander, only to be brought sharply back to the present when the hammer missed the nail in favor of his fingertips, or when his foot slipped on the moisture gathered on the rungs of the ladder and for a moment his heart sank to his stomach. 

He really should be more careful.

This spring had been a particularly humid one, and Dean didn’t mind the humidity so much as he minded the heat. Humidity, he could handle, but the mixture of stifling heat and a sticky fog that seemed to linger everywhere over the kingdom made him more depressed than he would’ve liked to admit. The water in the air reminded him of home back on the coast. On days when there was a breeze he could almost fool himself into thinking maybe it was a salty mist hitting his cheeks. 

As much as he hated his life before this, he found himself missing it more and more each day. He missed the quiet days when he could wander along the coastline, wading ankle-deep in ocean water, catching the occasional fish. His younger brother Sam would be there too, trodding along beside him, carrying a basket far too big for his little hands, rambling about one thing or another he read in a book off Dad’s shelf. He wasn’t supposed to touch them, but Dean never told their Father and their Father was so drunk he usually never knew the difference. It had been a struggle between their Father and Mother, and the constant need for just a bit more money, but Dean always tried his hardest to make Sam’s life a little more enjoyable. He took the swings from a drunken fist when they came, shoving Sam away into a cupboard and telling him not to come out until Dean came and got him.

When Dean was thirteen their Mother fell ill and died soon after, not a week after that and their Father packed a bag and left without ever looking back, leaving Dean to care for his younger brother Sam without a penny in his pocket. Dean had carried what he could on his back, took Sam, and walked them into the nearest city to find a job. Dean worked what he could, gathering his savings, spending only what was necessary, and eventually paying for the fare to send Sam to school. 

The ship went down two days into the voyage, leaving no survivors. Pirates had attacked, and poor Sam had drowned somewhere off the eastern border of the neighboring country, Caspan. Dean had been left with nothing once again, this time true alone. Now sixteen, orphaned, and with no known relatives to take him in, Dean packed his small life up once more and hid in the next carriage heading through town. He didn’t much care where he went, as long as he was away from everything that had hurt him. 

That’s how Dean had ended up in Narran, working as a smuggler for a friend or two until he grew to be too large to get the job done without being seen. Once his body had been built into a statue of muscle and tanned skin he moved to the forest, cutting down trees, lugging them into town, and selling the firewood to businesses all around. Eventually, an opening for a farmhand opened at the castle, and Dean was interested purely by the fact that it meant meals and a roof over his head for two cents higher pay. 

Now twenty-three, stronger, and more determined than ever to leave, he found himself more tied down than ever. He couldn’t leave without Castiel, not now, not after everything they’d built together, but by god he couldn’t stand to stay anymore. Every evening when he made his way back to the small corner of the barn he called his bed he pulled out the tin of savings he kept hidden behind a loose board and counted his change. It was enough for himself, sure, but not nearly enough for two. For safe passage, with someone so valuable as Castiel, he would need to work for another year, maybe two. Even then, no amount of money would guarantee their safety.

Dean was stuck, but still, his heart was determined to make it out. He planned in his free time, inconspicuously walking along the castle walls, seeing which guards looked where finding the weak points and gaps in their shifts where he might sneak out unnoticed. He couldn’t do much surveillance within the castle walls, but whatever he could find, he noted. After these past few weeks, he had managed to hash together a plan that might work, but that might have been the smallest chance he’d ever had for anything in his life. He needed to see Castiel. 

Castiel had been so deep in papers and legal work that he could hardly focus on anything but the lengthy documents that only seemed to pile up on his desk with each passing hour. He barely found the time to eat, much less see Dean aside from their moments in passing when he and his Father walked through the garden. His Father must’ve noticed the amount of time Castiel spent outside, away from his studies, and now he’d decided to redirect the boy to the more “important matters” of his life. Learning to become a diplomat, the proper way of speaking, of walking, the correct way to hold his cup when he drank from it, all the things that Castiel had begun to despise. It was tedious, frustrating work that often left him with red welts across the back of his hands and arms for any wrong answer he gave to his tutors.

He was making plans of his own, gazing out the window and wondering what he would do with his life if he wasn’t cooped up here in his room. He wanted to go into the city again, he wanted to stay there amongst the people. 

Without a knock, his chamber door opened, startling him and making him turn away from the window to see who’d just burst in. It was his Father, standing with his Mother just behind him. 

“Yes, Father?”

Castiel spoke up almost hesitantly, standing from his position perched on the window ledge, straightening out the front of his shirt. He hadn’t done anything wrong, or so he remembered, and he doubted his Father had an assignment for him so late in the evening. It was confusing, and a bit worrying. His Father took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he took another step into the room and shut the door. Mother stepped to the small bench at the foot of Castiel’s bed, took a seat, and placed her hands politely in her lap.

”You’re going off for a bit.” The King said in a quiet but commanding tone, leaving no room for confusion or argument. “You’ve been distracted, and I can’t have your mind anywhere else. Not now. We’re on the cusp of your crowning Castiel.”

Castiel felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“What do you mean? Father I’ve kept up with all my studies, I’ve—“

”That’s enough.” His father cut him off, raising a hand to signal for the other to be quiet. “The decision has already been made. You’ll be going in a week. Pack your things.” 

With that, his Father turned to leave, but Castiel, still shocked to his core, almost jumped forward as he spoke again.

”But Father, where am I even going? I’ll study more, I’ll— I’ll pay more attention in the meetings, I swear to it. Please, I want to stay.”

His Father didn’t listen, ignoring his pleas and walking swiftly out the door almost as quickly as he’d entered. Castiel’s Mother still sat on the bench, watching him with a saddened look. She’d miss him dearly, she was sure, but her husband had decided this was best for their boy. Castiel turned to her, giving her a look of confusion and hurt.

”You’re just going to let him send me away?”

She sighed, tearing her gaze away and slowly standing.

”It’s for the best dear, besides, your Father’s right. Your mind isn’t here with us anymore. You just need some readjustments, that’s all. You’ll be back to normal and you can come home before you even know you left!”

Castiel scoffed, pulling his shoulder away when she tried to place a hand on it. He was angry, rightfully so, fleeing his room before she could say another word to him. He ran through the halls, bumping into the occasional servant carrying armfuls of supplies, mumbling quick apologies to them and shoving his tears back down. He needed to tell Dean. He needed to see Dean.

Castiel burst through the barn doors, startling Dean, who quickly perked his head up at the new introduction. “What’s happened?” Dean asked after a moment, pushing himself up and growing concerned as Castiel began to breathe shakily before a soft sob left his lips and a tear or two streaked down his cheek. 

“He’s sending me off,” Castiel choked out, putting his hands on his knees and nearly collapsing over. “My Father, he’s sending me off, he hasn’t told me where.” 

Dean stood now, carefully stepping over to Castiel and setting a hand on his shoulder, letting the other stand just enough to fall into his arms and cry into his shoulder. Dean held him fast, turning a nose into his hair, trying to memorize the sickeningly sweet scent Castiel seemed to have. 

“No,” Dean said quietly, but there was a certain form of determination in his voice that made Castiel believe he wouldn't let it happen. Dean held him a bit tighter, placing his hand on the back of Castiel’s head. “We’re going to get out. You and I, together. I won’t let them take someone else away from me.”

”But…” Castiel sniffed and pulled back just slightly, meeting the other’s eye. “How? I’ve been thinking about it too, but we just couldn’t… sneak away. We’d be caught. They’d hurt you.”

”No, we won’t be caught. I’ve made a plan, I can be ready in two days.” 

Dean responded quickly, maybe overestimating just how well he thought he could execute this plan, but Castiel was going away in a week and there wasn’t any guarantee when he would be back. It had been nearly two years since they’d first met, plenty of small scares had come and gone, but now was their chance. They’d finally get to live the life they wanted. 

“Are you sure?” 

Dean hesitated. Was he sure? Truthfully, no, he wasn’t sure he was sure something would go wrong. There was a pit of anxiety forming in his stomach, but seeing tears in the corners of Castiel’s eyes tore away any semblance of giving up. He had to get out, and he had to take Castiel with him. He brought his hand to Castiel’s cheek, rubbing his thumb below his eye and wiping away the wet tears. 

“I’m sure.”

Dean sealed his promise with a soft kiss before pulling Castiel into a strong hug again. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his younger brother, but he refused to lose his lover.

[aka-indulgence]

ough why is medieval times so hard to WRITE ARGRHAG

WHAT YA’LL DOING OVER THERE!!!

[mattisthehottest]

Forbidden Love

Forbidden Love

pairing: princess!readerxpeasent!matt

Summary: When the pressured princess runs into the low peasant boy Matt

word count:372

Warnings: pressuring into marriage, fighting with parents, NOT PROOFREAD, that should be all

a/n: Inspired by a lot of writers on here.

-xoxo akua

"Princes, princess, wake up!" I open my eyes, maids running around my room. this is my normal routine. "Princess, we must hurry. Your father is calling for you." I get rushed out of bed and pulled into the bathroom.

-"Yes, father?" I stand in front of the throne in a long blue gown, with gold lace designs. My father is sitting on the throne in the middle while the throne to his right is empty.The queen, my mother, fell sick to an illness that the royal physicians are still looking for a cure.

"Y/n," my father calls, snapping me out of my thoughts. I look up, seeing his cold demeanor change into one of worry. "Fath-" i start, but I am quickly cut off by him. "You need to marry soon." We've talked about this before, and it always ends the same, in an argument.

"Father, I don't want to marry, plus we haven't loo-" "You dont have a choice!" my father yells. "But it's my life which makes it my choice!" I yell back. Im so angry that I feel my body starts to shake. "You have three months to find a suitable husband." I opened my mouth to respond, but my father dismissed me.

●Matt's pov●

"Matt, come on," I hear Chris complaining. "If you helped, I wouldn't be so slow." I say, carrying a full basket of coal. This Chris guy is actually my brother. We're triplets, but Nick is at home.

We make our way home after going around buying things that are necessary. "We're back!" Chris yells. "Chris, can either you or Matt go out and buy some vegetables and seasoning?" Nick replies, and Chris immediately says, "Matt will go. "

I have one bag in arm searching for the vegetables. As I make my way through the crowd of people, I trip and fall onto a young lady. The position we land in is a bit...intimate. I

look at her face, seeing a slight blush.I quickly stand up to help her up. "I am so sorry, Miss...?" She hesitates before saying, "Y/n." Her name sounds really similar, but before i have time to question, she quickly writes me a note before running away.

[fox-in-the-library]

I love this so much.

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[groundclueless]

I'm reading this at 5am while sick. I probably need sleep but I'm hooked. 😍

Beauty and the Beast Ch.9 (Bucky x Reader)

Dudes…we almost there. Holy cow. It’s been a wild ride.

Summary: It took the kingdom of Hydra five years to finally take advantage of the disappearance of the Stark Kingdom. It took Prince Brock two weeks to make the small, unprotected village of Marveline hate his existence. His ways left Captain Rogers to go looking for help, hoping to find a royal family that could protect the people. But what happens when he hasn’t come back? It’s up to Bucky to find out what happened to his best friend and the royal siblings, but he never expected what’s to come.

Chapter Nine

The smell of smoke…the ringing in his ears…the muffled cry of his name…those were the first things. They were what forced him to open his eyes. Ther e was one, two, three blurred versions of a familiar blonde standing above him. When did he wake up? “S-Steve?”

“Buck, come on, get up.” Three Steves slowly morphed into one. A hand reached down and grabbed his forearm, pulling him to his feet. Everything felt…heavy. 

Where was smoke coming from?

“You’re awake,” he realized, gaze fixating on his best friend.

That boyish smile tugged at the corners of Steve’s lips as he pulled Bucky into a hug. “Finally you are too.” 

“Where’s the smoke coming from?” Bucky looked around, eyes searching. It finally dawned on him where they were. The basement. “They’re going to burn the house down,” he muttered, the realization finally weighing down on him. 

There was only one door to get in and out . It was at the back of the house. The key was in Steve’s room and…Steve’s room. 

Peter.

Bucky murmured a small curse as he ran to the door, ramming his side into it with all his strength. Still, it refused to even budge. “Help me, Steve!”

Keep reading

[gloomwitchwrites]

Your Royal Highness, could I please request the 141 boys and how they would react if Reader pulled the “Is it okay if I touch?” Clock App trend on them 😌

Peasant, you may have what you've requested. Remember, in real life, we don't touch people without their consent. But this is fiction...and I can do whatever the fuck I want. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, pranks, humor, flirting, western au (Soap)

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

There are children everywhere. There are also helicopters and Humvees. It’s controlled chaos. John is trying hard not to stress.

Whose idea was it to have the local school visit base?

Price stands next to the open Humvee door. There’s a young boy in the driver’s seat, hands on the steering wheel, making car noises like he’s an F1 driver. Gaz sits in the passenger seat, grinning, pretending to cling to the interior of the Humvee like they’re in a race.

Price snorts and shakes his head. As he glances away, his attention catches on the woman approaching him. You’re pretty. There’s a softness about you that he’d like to understand. Price thinks you’re walking by, but you pause, smiling at him with a flirty smirk.

Bloody hell.

You’d look gorgeous bent over the backseat of the Humvee.

“May I touch it?”

“Course you can,” replies Price, expecting you to place your hand on the hood. You touch him instead, resting your hand on his bicep. That smirk widens, and Price nearly groans under that look.

You drop your hand, backing up. Retreating.

No. Not happening. You’re staying here. With him.

“You can put that hand back, love,” he purrs.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The dust kicks up as Johnny brings his horse to a stop. This town doesn’t even have a name. It’s just a dot on the map.

“Good girl,” he purrs, lightly rubbing the horse’s neck.

The few people about frown in his direction, clearly a bit fearful of a stranger. It’s a normal reaction every time he arrives somewhere new. But he won’t be here for long. Johnny needs a stiff drink and a willing woman.

“Is it safe to touch?”

Johnny turns, glancing down at the beautiful woman staring up at him. Your voice is a sweet song, one that Johnny wants to hear all night. Preferably with you under him.

“Pretty thing like you can touch whatever she wants,” replies Johnny with a flirty smirk.

Johnny knows you’re talking about the horse, and when you reach out, he expects you to pet its hide. But you touch him instead, caressing his thigh with a teasing smile.

A willing woman. And a stiff drink.

You quickly drop your hand, clasping them in front of you. Johnny slides off his horse. He leans against the saddle and you match his movement.

A willing woman.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Is it safe to pet?”

Simon glances up from his phone. You stand in front of the small outdoor table, an eagerness in your eye. You’re an adorable thing. Bright. A spot of sunshine. Simon sees an opportunity here.

Most people avoid Bravo. The all-black German Shepherd is imposing when he’s not wagging his tail.

Simon quickly checks Bravo’s demeanor. The German Shepherd has his head up, ears alert with interest, and his tail smack smack smacks against the concrete.

“He’s safe,” replies Simon with a smile.

You step forward, going down on your knees beside Simon. He reaches for the leash, just to make sure Bravo doesn’t jump on you in his excitement. But your hand passes over his, pausing there. You bat your eyelashes at Simon, and he melts into a fucking puddle.

It’s a deliberate but brief touch. Then you’re scratching behind Bravo’s ears, your focus on the dog.

“Who’s a good boy?” you coo. “You are. You’re a good boy.”

Bravo’s tail thumps harder, tongue lolling with happiness.

You can call me a good boy, sweetheart.

“He likes you,” muses Simon.

You smile warmly. “I like him.”

An opportunity. Blooming.

“Can I buy you a coffee?”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Nice bike.”

Kyle’s head turns. A beautiful woman stands before him, giving him a look that’s irresistible. The bike always attracts stares, but very few actually approach him to talk.

“Thank you,” he replies, sitting up a bit straighter.

Your smile widens, and Kyle melts. You’re a sweet thing. He can tell. This is an opportunity for him, a chance to make a move. He’s always flirting with strangers on his socials, but there’s the buffer of the screen. This is an actual woman standing before him showing interest.

“Can I touch?” you ask, not looking away from his visor.

Goddamn. The eye contact if you were beneath him would be intense.

Kyle nods. “Yeah,” he laughs. “You can touch.”

As you reach out, Kyle believes that you’re aiming for his bike. But your hand skirts the bike, landing on his thigh. You lightly squeeze. Rub. Then your hand falls away. Blood rushes to Kyle’s dick.

Shit. Fucking hell.

There’s no way you’re escaping. He’s keeping you.

“Can I go for a ride?”

On the bike or on my dick, love?

Before Kyle can answer, Johnny, his riding buddy, leans forward. “He’s got two things you can ride on, lass.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @glassgulls @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @all-by-myself98 @hisuccubus

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving @carbonnite-copy @sobbangchan @codeseven

@youre-a-wallflower-charlie @tiredmetalenthusiast @sporadicpizzainternet

[super-marvel-dc]

Prince!Jason and Peasant!Reader would be the sweetest thing, in my opinion. Prince!Jason would be sick and tired of always being in the spotlight, of always having to be the perfect Prince his parents always wanted. He would sneak out of the castle while his parents were busy tending to their duties as King and Queen, him dressing in normal civilian clothes that his servant—that has raised him since he was born—snuck to him because she wants him to be happy. Prince!Jason walking through the village he only visited once in his life when he was eight with his servant because she needed medicine for him when he got a cold, and him being lost in the nostalgia of his her being more of a mom to him than his own mother ever was that he accidentally bumped into peasant!reader, both of them stumbling back and apologizing. Him meeting peasant!reader's eyes, and his breath getting caught in his throat, his words being nothing more than a stuttering apology as peasant!reader laughs softly while brushing off their clothes from the flour that spilled on them when they bumped into each other. Prince!Jason offering to buy peasant!reader more flour in an apology, and peasant!reader agreeing quietly as Prince!Jason holds out his arm for peasant!reader to walk with him. Prince!Jason being absolutely smitten with peasant!reader that he often sneaks out—with the help of his lovely servant, of course—and they meet up at a willow tree by a pond filled with swans and koi fish and lily pads covering the water beautifully. Prince!Jason working up the courage to finally tell his parents about peasant!reader, only to feel his heart drop when the King and Queen announce to him that they're throwing a ball to find him someone to marry. His heart breaking even more when he tells peasant!reader about the arrangement, and seeing their eyes fill with tears. Prince!Jason spending the night before the ball with a tear stained face looking out of his window and into the village, wishing things were different. Prince!Jason being bored out of his mind but trying to smile politely at everyone who speaks and presents themselves to him, just as a good Prince should. That is until peasant!reader walks in, not dressed in the most fanciest of clothes, but still dressed nicely enough to present themself to the King and Queen, and Prince!Jason almost making himself dizzy with how fast he stood up to tell his parents that peasant!reader is the one he wants to marry. The King and Queen not agreeing at first because peasant!reader wasn't a part of royalty, but later on arranging the marriage between them after they witnessed their son being the happiest he's even been while he was dancing with peasant!reader, and holding their hand as he leads them to the garden, cupping peasant!readers cheeks, and kissing them softly. Prince!Jason fidgeting with his shoulder pads and gloves as he stands at the end of the isles, standing up straight after his servant starts to play the piano with a smile on her face, the doors opening to reveal peasant!reader grinning at him with tears in their eyes. Prince!Jason tearing up when they seal the marriage with a long, passionate kiss, both Jason and reader leaving the the castle in a carriage, pulled by six white horses, with their hearts feeling full and happy. Prince!Jason blushing wildly as he sees his servant wave and wink at him as Jason and reader ride off to their new life as newlyweds.

Please, do not steal my work

[spnexploration]

Really enjoyed this series! Sam's reactions to her ineptitude at country living are great 😆 Nice slow build for Sam and the Princess to find that they love each other, too

The Woodsman

The entire story is complete and available now on Patreon. 

Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Summary:  A/B/O Fairy Tale - You’re a sheltered, thirty-something princess on the run from your brother, the newly crowned ‘Mad King’ of France. When you’re waylaid by marauders and left for dead in the forest, a gruff woodsman nurses you back to health.

Warnings:  A/B/O smut, knotting, language, violence, assault, non-con

Word Count: 32,000

The complete story is available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

Tumblr posting schedule under the cut. 

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