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You never laughed, hardly ever cracking so much as a smile. 

On your wedding day, perhaps you should have. At the very least for your royal husband or even your newfound subjects. The peasants outside your carriage seemed far more excited on this day than you. Your husband, Neverfelle's most ardent king, seemed far too taken with you to care much for your own feelings.

No matter how much you detested the arrangement, he held power over your noble house as he does all the others. A young, beautiful bride to be; your shining skin and precious eyes captivated the decrepit man. You wished terribly to see him in the same light. His wrinkled skin and aged voice only proved to make your scowl deepen. The kiss you shared in the old church, after whispers of vows and promises of forever, was your first - and you hoped last.

The banquet was just as boring.

You sat beside the king, hand resting at your cheek to keep you from sleeping through the festivities. Throughout the ballroom hazes of pinks and blues and violets - the new fashion trends - circled each other, young ladies and gentlemen dancing to celebrate the union. Servants scurried back and forth, attempting to appease any of the drunkards causing a mishap. You audibly sighed. 

"My queen, you mustn't be so downcast." Your husband scolded, sliding a finger across your face to drop your hand. 

The corners of your eyes pierced into him, head still facing the ballroom so as to not publicly offend the man. You wanted to. But you figured it is better to not be ostracized by your own subjects. Should he pass on, which you imagined is very soon no doubt, you wanted to at least keep the power this whole ordeal brought. 

"You, servant," A stout man quickly kneeled at the king's feet, "Bring me the jester. My queen is in need of some humor!" He bellowed out an irritating laugh. 

He knew you never smiled, not quite understanding it but your beauty seemed to compensate for your lack of a pleasant personality anyway, as he described it. 

You weren't sure of why you never smiled yourself, if you were honest. 

Some things were pleasant, and some things were funny, and many things brought you joy - like the pastries your chef made with little characters drawn with icing, or the bunnies that scurried around your garden, or the trouble your siblings constantly found themselves in. Yet, you always approached these situations with a neutral expression; something akin to a frown. 

The jester's jokes would be no different. 

You had never seen one in person. Your noble house was wealthy, though only kings had jesters. 

There was a silence in the ballroom as the crowd dispersed, only being broken by the soft jingling of a few bells. The mask was the first thing you saw. Perhaps French or Italian? It carried a deepened frown, mirroring your own. A masquerade or theatre mask, you weren't quite sure. You rarely studied beyond basic cultural histories. 

Black diamonds followed the curvature of the bottom of the mask's eyes. A three pointed hat and a black and red motley matching as he sauntered in and gave a bow. 

Among all the smiles and laughs, Tobias immediately noticed your scowling face. The way your eyebrows furrowed and cheeks puffed out was endearing, a sentiment he briefly thought before scrutinizing your lovely features. So, this is our new queen, he pondered. 

"My my, ladies and gentlemen, it seems I've missed most of the party!" He began, grabbing three balls from gods knows where and juggling. The people awed at the party trick, and you'd be lying if it weren't entertaining to some extent. "Shall we toast in honor of our King and newly wed Queen?!" He exclaimed, earning cheers, even from the king himself. The servants brought you both your own cups of wine. 

You did not wait and simply chugged yours until it emptied. 

He grabbed a bottle and raised it, a glass cup in his other hand. He poured into his cup, except the contents did not spill. The crowd laughed at the cheap magic trick. 

"Oh forgive me! It seems I poured the wine into the wrong cup!" Tobias chuckled, pointing to the cup in your hand. When you looked down, yours had been refilled. 

You scoffed.

His eyes narrowed, likely the only one noticing your detest for his little show. 

By the end of his act, the King swiftly sent him away. 

Not once did you so much as giggle! Half of the jokes were targeted at and for you, and you couldn't even smile! 

Tobias never cared for being a jester, he was a poor street rat with nothing but his wits about him in terrible need of a job. When the king found interest in him, he simply obeyed like a good peasant and put on the ridiculous costume. 

However, when the old man croaks - and he, too, had no doubt it would be soon - Tobias's fate would be left in your hands. And he would be damned if the miserable queen is what will make him a beggar again.

From then on, he vowed to prove to you his usefulness. He watched you, studying your little quirks and habits. What he once thought was a dark queen, slowly transformed into a quiet fondness for you. 

Tobias thought you would be harsh and cruel, perhaps even sad or pitiful. Instead, he found a great deal of compassion from you. 

You helped the servants clean and cook, and are diligent in your duties as Queen. The gardens seemed to be your favorite place however; often dirtying your gowns by sitting in the grass and watching the flowers and little animals scurry about. 

It was one such day he was given the pleasure of speaking with you. 

Watching, waiting, as he normally did behind a tree. You noticed the soft jingle of the familiar bells, raising your head after plucking a dying rose.

"Jester, come on out." You called, attempting to find where the sound originated.

He laughed, stumbling towards you rather awkwardly. "My precious queen!" He greeted.

"You have been spying on me," you narrowed your eyes at him. 

Tobias sweatdropped. "Only out of interest, your highness." 

"Interest?"

"You do not laugh at my tricks." 

"Perhaps your tricks do not deserve my laughing," you quipped back immediately. 

Tobias laughed in response, genuine and polite. You enjoyed the sound far more than the one of your husband. 

"I only aim to please." He responded, bowing and then plopping down beside you on the grass. 

"You aim for something, that is true. I'm just unsure of what it is," you raised a brow, twirling the rose between your fingers as you carefully removed the thorns from its stem.

"You hardly smile." He spoke honestly.

"Your position as jester does not make you immune to my wrath." You warned. 

"It does, actually." He chuckled bitterly. 

It was true, to some extent. Jesters are employed not only to entertain, but to provide brutal honesty to the royals in ways that others are far too scared to say. If you wanted him, in all your cruelness, hanged for his words, you would be met with a world of legal troubles. 

It does not mean he can't be fired however. 

Despite not being able to see his face, you could almost see the gears turning in his head.

"That was a joke," you admitted, frown still etched perfectly against your lips. 

A silence and then a beat, and Tobias felt a heat raise to his cheeks. It was funny, slightly. 

But the fact that you made a joke for him was the sweetest irony. He practically reveled in it. 

You placed the rose in the crevice between his mask and ear, admiring the intricate details of Tobias's attire. "It may be humiliating for you to be dressed like this." You began, muttering mostly to yourself. "Many men would rather die, I'm sure. But I like it." 

It was another sly attempt at a joke.

Or rather, a truth disguised as a joke. 

You were trying so hard to make him laugh, to ease him in the way that he eases everyone else. Your emotionless state was not a reflection of your personality - if anything, you seemed to hold too much emotion. A body of sweetness that Tobias could feel himself itching to take a bite out of. It became clear to him then... your humor, dry and hidden, held triple the depth and beauty that his own person could never replicate. 

You are an emotional being with a face designed to hide it. 

And gods, he now wanted nothing more than to uncover every little facet.

-

From that day on, Tobias began seeking you out during your little garden visits. Sometimes hiding and feeling content with just watching you, other times joining under the guise of bringing you a snack or tea. 

Slowly, in little pieces, you began confiding in him, and he in you. 

"I am ashamed, your highness." He admitted rather bashfully. 

Your ears perked at his words. "Hm? Of what?" 

He breathed in and then out slowly, steadying his mind knowing he could lose the friendship he's built with you. "I did not initially approach you with innocent intentions." His gloved finger dug into the ground, the bells chiming annoyingly - at least to him. "I wanted-"

You cut him off, sucking in a breath. "I know."

"You know?" He cocked his head to the side.

"I wasn't enjoying your shows. You were scared." When Tobias didn't respond, you figured it would be alright to continue speaking. "When the king is too old to make decisions, I will be tasked to decide for him." You plucked a rose, this time alive, and began removing the thorns. "If your humor and wits are useless to me, then I would have no reason to employ you." 

He cast his gaze down, the mask obstructing his view. "Yes. I suppose you are right." 

"I will not relieve you of your position, little jester." You whispered, tucking the rose in that familiar little spot. 

The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end, a blush creeping to the tips of his ears as he felt himself heat up at the pet name you've given him. 

Nobles are all rich snobs, and you are no exception. So why the hell is such a condescending comment making him melt? 

"Before this, what did you do?" You questioned. 

"Before... my employment here?" You nodded in response. Tobias let his head fall back and you could see his adam's apple bob. You gulped, disliking the thoughts beginning to run rampant within your head. "I was an orphan. A street rat, really. Stealing and begging for scraps." 

"A difficult life." You agreed.

"Yes, I suppose to a sheltered noblewoman it may seem so." 

You almost felt offense if it weren't for the teasing tone in his voice. 

He continued, "His majesty saw me begging one evening and took pity. Asked me a few questions and I made a joke at his expense."

You hummed. "He may have had your tongue for that."

"But he didn't," Tobias sighed. "Sometimes I wish he had." 

"And so he employed you?" You brought your knees to your chest, the gown you sported wrinkling and folding into itself.

"He found use in me. I suppose that is all any of us can hope for." Tobias shrugged. 

You studied his form for a few moments.

"You detest the king." You pointed out, earning an exasperated cough from the jester. 

"That is no better than blasphemy, your majesty!" 

You sighed, brows furrowing. "He is not here to listen."

The pout on your face squeezed at Tobias's chest, your expression mirroring the one you sported on the day he first met you. 

"You can deepen your frown but you can't raise it." He noted, more so contemplating.

"I am strange."

"You are lovely, my precious queen." 

You plucked Tobias's hat from his head, earning a small gasp from him as you began playing with the fabric. 

"My husband does not speak to me like you do. He says 'my queen' or 'my wife...', Never sweet or precious, like how you so often say." 

"He is a fool."

"Says the fool."

Tobias let out a hearty laugh. "You are the only noblewoman to bring me such joy." 

You stopped playing with his hat and looked at him, a serious expression adorning your features. "Do women of lower status bring you more joy?" 

Tobias looked almost taken aback by your accusation. Was this jealousy? Or offense? Perhaps a mixture of both? 

Before he could conjure a proper response, one of your maids appeared before you. 

"My lady! The king is expecting you for dinner, please make haste! We must prepare your evening gown." 

You placed the jester's hat back atop his head. 

"Good day, sweet jester." 

-

That night, Tobias could not remove the constant thought of you from his head. Each time he would close his eyes, all he could see is the furrowing of your eyebrows, the way your nose scrunched when he made a stupid joke, and the lines of your body beneath your gown. It was getting ridiculous. 

He knew better. You are not a potential lover, even the mere thought of pining for you from afar could lead him to a bitter end under a guillotine. You are married to an old bat who has not the will or performance to even bed you. 

He wondered, faintly, if you had those kinds of needs. Tobias knew you wouldn't be satisfied with the king even if he could perform. 

Would I... make her feel good? He pondered, before the shame quickly rose into a reddened heat at the base of his chest. He sat up in his bed, then quickly shuffling out of the covers and standing. 

Fresh air. Surely, that is all he needs to straighten his mind and continue resting. 

The servant's quarters are locked in at night, entrance to the main castle halls forbidden until morning chores begin. However, they leave the back doors open for the stables. 

Tobias often took late night walks around the castle grounds. 

And he wasn't alone in this either. Many of the maids would sneak off to meet with lovers or find respite in the town's late night markets. Perhaps in knowing this, he shouldn't have been surprised when he saw you out and about; quietly walking alongside your maid with gentle sniffles and what he swears are tears coating your cheeks.

You were in nothing but a nightgown and a shawl, your maid trailing behind you in a similar outfit. Did you wake her just for this? 

Selfish little queen. 

"Perhaps he will change his mind, my lady." Your maid encouraged. 

You shook your head as you both took rest at a stone seating within the familiar gardens. Tobias knew better than to eavesdrop, he prides himself in being a gentleman of a fool - or is it a fool of a gentleman? 

"He will not. He seemed rather invigorated, actually," you replied, the trembling in your voice not going unnoticed. 

Tobias, against all of his better judgements, crouched to heed your conversation - quite the nasty habit he has acquired. 

"Surely, he cannot perform..." The maid's voice wavered, as though she knew one gossiping ear listening and she'd be done for. 

You shrugged before slumping your shoulders forward. "It seems he is capable. The king is desperate for an heir and it is my duty to provide." 

Tobias felt his blood run cold. 

An heir? Does that mean...

"I knew it would come to be eventually. My husband spoke of children a number of times during the engagement." You paused, looking to your maid directly. "It was foolish of me to believe we would not consummate." 

The maid held a guilty expression, as though you had caught her doing something wrong. She let out a nervous laugh. 

Tobias recalled the maid's face before, slipping in and out of the kitchen during dinners. He narrowed his eyes at her. 

Sleeping pills, huh? What a protective maid. 

Your own eyes seemed to trail out, peaking at the very corner of your vision and catching Tobias in the middle of his spying act. The intensity of your gaze left him weak, and he wondered if you could recognize him without his mask and motley. You had never seen his face, he realized, as a growing onset of insecurity seemed to settle. 

You whispered something to your maid, inaudible by Tobias's ears. She nodded, bowing and scurrying off with a meticulous silence that reminded you of a cat. You turned back in your seat, comfortably resting as you awaited for Tobias to move. 

"May I, my queen?" He questioned. 

You only nodded. 

Before he could even fully sit, you spoke up. "Will you drop the endearing names now that I am to bed a king?" 

There was an air of confusion and a beat before he realized he had not given you your usual pet names. 

"Apologies, my precious queen." He bowed, rigid and awkward. 

"I do not mean to force you," you said. 

"It is not force." 

"It feels like it."

"I am just a little out of sorts." Tobias turned to face you properly, finally able to fully engross himself in your features without the mask to obstruct the view. You seemed to be doing the same, at last getting to see the face behind all the jokes and conversations. "Am I as handsome as you expected?" Tobias teased. 

"Quite," you agreed. 

He sweatdropped. "Was that sarcasm?" 

"Not at all. You are handsome." You stated rather boldly. "And my husband is not."

Tobias let a moment pass, wondering if his next words would cause you offense. He supposed your relationship has grown well passed the need for such worries. "And you must bed him." 

You nodded, another tear slipping the confines of your eye. "Regrettably so." 

"Regrettably." Tobias repeated, looking up at the stars that decorated the darkened sky. 

You, on the other hand, could only stare dejectedly at your little jester. Your fingers trailed slowly, almost painfully, up his arm and to his shoulder before landing at his neck, poking at his neck and swiping at the veins. You could feel his pulse quicken and the gulping in his throat as he swallowed thickly. 

You then moved your hand to his face, forcing him to look at you as you placed your thumb on his bottom lip and pressed. 

"I could let you have me, right now." You muttered. "Use you for my own selfish desires and then crawl into the king's bed tomorrow feeling satisfied." You paused. "I would feel so satisfied." 

"That is-"

You cut Tobias off. "I know." 

Your hand fell at your side once again. 

"You do that too much." Tobias sneered, quiet at first but his voice grew. Your eyes widened. 

"Hm?" Was all you could squeak out. 

"You never let me finish what I say." He grabbed at the shawl covering you, removing it and tossing the fabric to the side so he could grip your bare shoulder properly. "You assume and assume and assume. A selfish woman." He scolded.

"I only-"

The words could barely sound before he was speaking over you once again. "And what if I was giving you permission? What if I was about to tell you about how all I want to do is rip these clothes from your body and ravage you? And then let you scurry off to that senile old king just so you can crave me once again?" His chest heaved up and down; all the pent up resentment, anger, and frustration spilling out in a heated storm. 

Tobias brought his lips to the shell of your ear, an arm finding its way around your waist and pulling you flush against his torso. "I have wanted nothing more than to see you squirm beneath me, little queen." 

You felt a chill go up your spine, a heaviness in your stomach that made you want to push away and pull in all at the same time.

"I am not unfaithful." You spoke, earning an inquisitive frown from Tobias. 

He nipped at your earlobe gently before leaning back, arm still laying flat against your waist.

"Then why seek me out?" 

You raised a brow. "I never did." 

You were right. Not once did you look for Tobias. Not once did you search for him in any of the places that he frequented. It was always him fumbling about in the gardens and banquets vying for your attention. The feeling of embarrassment burned, a bitter taste left at the tip of his tongue as he forced himself to bite back a response. 

"I was happy, though," you began, his spirits lifting momentarily, "when you would come to me. I grew bored of the gardens, in truth, but I wanted you to continue sitting with me." 

"I feel rather used," Tobias let go of your waist. 

"Selfish queen." You reminded him, a teasing hint in your voice that contrasted that familiar frown. "Perhaps, in another life you and I could have something more tangible." 

"Something intimate?" He asked. 

You nodded. "I detest my husband, but he is not evil."

"Did you choose this marriage?" Tobias reminded you. A man that cannot ask for permission is an evil man, at minimum. 

You exhaled shortly. "I am trying to find the positive in the negative, little jester. Let my delusions comfort me." 

He laughed; bitterly, with resentment. "You would force to believe a fallacy, rather than take what is real and in front of you?" 

Tobias's question was rhetorical, though you couldn't help yourself from responding. 

"To be unfaithful with you means I can be unfaithful to you."

He chuckled - deep and brooding. There was a rumble in his throat as he let his finger trace the expanse of your neck before dropping it at his side once again. He did not respond, too afraid, too angry. Tobias knew better than the lousy king. He knew to keep you shackled to him he needed to be the best - a romantic, a soft and endearing creature with a roughness you would likely appreciate in bed. You like pathetic men with a fire in their eyes - he saw that. He saw you. 

Your maid returned, mumbling a my lady as she urged you to return to your chambers. Perhaps it was the dreary conversation, but Tobias could not help glaring daggers into the maid. If he were king, he could send her off to clean some offhanded wing in the castle, and he could demand from his beautiful wife a chaste kiss, or a lingering touch, or more. 

As you lifted to return, Tobias clasped a rough hand around your wrist, turning you to him. "When his majesty is... no longer... Will you take me? As yours?" His big, round eyes fluttered up at you, lashes long and wet from what could have been tears - when had he cried?

Your frown deepened, almost a scowl but far too soft to truly be one. Soft for him, he noted. 

"Goodnight, little jester." You curtseyed and disappeared once again, leaving Tobias craving for something he knows is out of reach. 

Tomorrow, you would bed the king and be his, entirely, eternally. Your relationship with your court jester would become nothing more than a whisper in the wind - of pleasantries and garden visits. 

He balled his hands into fists, knuckles white from the pressure as he wracked his brain for anything that could save you both from a life of regrets. In doing so, your maid had returned at his side, a rather angry look displayed on her features.

"You'll get her majesty in trouble." She scolded, sitting beside Tobias. 

"For what?" He muttered, already tired of speaking with her. 

"For entertaining you!" She sighed. "If the king finds out, he will have both your heads."

"I should have his in return," Tobias joked.

Only the silence that followed after seemed to turn this joke into something more. Perhaps hope, or something far less tangible? The maid felt it as well, the way the air changed. The feeling of something stirring. 

"I should like to have his head." He contemplated, tapping at the stone seating with a long index finger. The maid's expression contorted to one of concern.

"Tobias, surely you jest." In all her brazen attempts at comforting him, Tobias could only feel a deep seated anger for the use of his name - a title extended only to those close with him, which came few and far between. 

He grabbed at the maid's face, pulling her closer, cheeks squished as he dug into her skin. "Tomorrow, the Queen is to bed her filthy husband." The maid nodded, as though her agreement could save her from this strange predicament. "No no," Tobias pondered, "She will bed me." His words softened into whispers, only audible by the maid and the jester, himself. 

"But that's not-"

Tobias squeezed harder, pulling the maid even closer and forcing blood to draw from her skin. "Your sleeping pills. Ensure the king takes them in the evening." 

"But, her majesty seemed unhappy that I had-"

"Her majesty knows not what is best for her." Tobias chided, saying all but his claim unto you. "Bring her to his chambers as planned. Do this, and I will reward you with keeping your life." 

After one last threatening squeeze, Tobias released the maid. Her body quivered but she nodded nonetheless, standing and curtseying before scurrying off to make sense of the strange predicament she seems to have found herself in. 

Tobias, on the other hand, was invigorated. A newfound confidence lurking beneath his skin and making his hair stand on end. 

-

That following night, the plan had begun smoothly. Tobias, dressed in his motley and jester's hat, accompanied the maid to the king's chambers. 

"Dinner and a show?" Bellowed out the king with a coughing fit of laughter. "How jovial! My staff is as excited as I am today, it seems."

Tobias sneered at the implication. As if any man would be happy to see the woman he loves fall into the arms of a disgusting pig. 

The king was quick to drink up the tea, and Tobias realized just how simple his job would be. The maid disappeared, and Tobias was left to perform his little circus act. After only a few moments, the king's eyelids waned as he fought off sleep. 

"Are you tired, your majesty?" Tobias questioned, ceasing his juggling and crouching at the king's knees. He let his head rest against the old man's thighs, humming. 

"Just a bit," he reassured. "I must stay awake to receive my bride." 

Tobias whistled. "And if I were to take her instead? Here? In front of you?"

The king, in all his strange sensations, scoffed. "Nonsense. What... absolute insolence." His words slurred, quiet then loud then quiet once again. 

"I could fuck her sweet cunt right here, while your brittle bones watch." Tobias poked at the king's clothed leg, relishing in how utterly stupid he has made himself simply for drinking some tea. 

The king mumbled something, likely insulting, likely damning, and fell to sleep, snores echoing through the room. 

"Perfect." Tobias chortled, a sly grin spreading from ear to ear. 

Taking the king by the shoulders, he wrapped him in one of the comforters spread across his bed, ensuring his limbs and mouth are tied to prevent any interruptions in the late evening. Tobias pondered, humming a longer tune as he examined the room carefully. The dresser would be fitting, perhaps. Large enough to house the man and with enough divide in the wood to give the king a perfect view. 

Shrugging, he skipped along to shove the king's body inside, grabbing a butter knife from the tea tray along the way. 

Tobias looked up at the king, an almost religious implication as he brought the knife forward and into his stomach. Blood seeped from the fabrics, pooling at an agonizingly slow pace. Just enough to ensure he would wake up and feel the burning, but be too enamored in fighting off his constraints to truly notice. 

Shutting the dresser doors, he placed a rod in between the handles, testing their strength by pushing and pulling before letting out a satisfied whistle. 

Now all he had to do was wait. 

You found the night to be much less exciting. You did not eat your dinner, and instead allowed your maid to prep you for the evening's events. Your nightgown was a flimsy fabric, meant to cover your lingerie while you made your way to the king's chambers. 

A small part of you regretted the previous evening's argument with your jester. A larger part of you wished it were his room you'd be attending. 

If your prayers had been answered, how would you react? 

Upon entering, a chill trailed up your arms and spine. It was cold, freezing almost. And your king's boisterous voice had not yet broken the silence save for some rustling in the bed. Your footsteps were nimble and quiet as you approached, the fabric draped across the frame covering what you imagined would be your nude husband. 

When you lifted the curtain, you were not greeted with the man you wished forever to not see, but your jester; his sleeping form a sudden comfort as he shifted. 

"What are you doing here?" You questioned, stepping back and allowing the curtain to fall once again. 

Tobias sat up, sniffling and confused - or rather feigned confusion. 

"I was called here to perform for his majesty," he mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eye. "He had not arrived and the bed looked far too soft to not lay in." 

Behind the curtain's sheerness, he could see your silhouette, the curves of your body bare and present and causing an immediate strain in his pants that he seemed to curse himself for. If you see it, you'll deem him a pervert. 

"Well," you started, "He is not here so you must return to the servant's quarters. At once." 

Your face was red and your arms did little to cover yourself. 

"Is that right?" He uttered. "Why not join me?"

"Join.. Join you?!" You jeered. "I am not a loose woman! I am your queen!" Your anger boiled, forgetting yourself as you swung the curtains to the side and grabbed at the jester's arm, pulling him off the bed. "How dare you make such a comment?" 

Tobias stopped, body splayed at just the tip of the bed before turning his head behind himself. "I meant no disrespect, my sweet queen. I only meant..." 

On the bed, the king's tray was placed atop a pillow, scones and cookies and a small slice of cake sat undisturbed. 

Tobias chuckled. "I only meant for us to share a snack while we await your dear husband." 

"Do you think I am a fool?" You were in shock. This felt contrived - like he had planned to catch you off guard and attempt to coax you with sweet treats and his handsome gaze.

Your maid, whom had been standing in the corner with a respectful silence spoke up, nerves ever present in her voice. 

"My lady, it is not improper of you to share a meal while you wait," she reminded you, hand pointing towards the tray. "I'm sure his majesty will arrive shortly." 

Tobias could see the way your gaze softened, how your tension eased from the trust you faithfully put into the woman serving you. You sighed, shoulders slumping. 

"You may leave," you groaned, waving off your loyal maid. 

The silence that overtook the room was deafening as you attempted to figure out the best course of action. 

"Okay." You whispered, beginning to grab the tray. Tobias's eyes glinted with a hidden excitement, only for it to be crushed just a second later. "Take this and leave. I will await my husband in our bed." 

You shoved the tray of sweets into Tobias's arms as you forced him up and onto his feet. "Wait- My Queen I-"

"Enough, jester." Your voice was commanding, losing any affection you typically spoke with towards Tobias. "I have coddled you too much and it's made you far too bold." You stepped away from him, arms covering your chest. "It is true that my affections for you have grown rather... persistent. I apologize for being intimate and leading you astray."

It was true, to some extent. You had played with his feelings. You, in all of your selfish flirting, knew that it could never grow beyond desiring glances and quietly intimate touches. You knew this. And your poor jester, who does not understand the world of royals or duty, was happy to oblige you. 

"Do you think me a child?" He scowled. 

"Certainly not. A child does not have such ravenous desires." You scoffed in return. 

"Ravenous desires? Are my desires ravenous to you?" Placing the tray on the foot of the bed, Tobias stepped forward, closing the distance between you both as your bodies were mere centimeters apart. He could see the fall and rise of your chest, the dainty fabric doing little to conceal the swell of your breasts. "And what of the king's? Are his desires pure? Are any man's?" 

"No. Though none as filthy as yours, I'm sure." 

"The filthy one is the king, marrying a lady decades his junior." Tobias laughed exasperated, as if this were the funniest yet most exhausting situation. 

"The filthy one is me, actually. The lady marrying the old king for riches and power." 

"Is that right?" 

"It is." 

Tobias smiled, sharpened canines barely visible in his grin. It looked almost unnatural, and you wondered why you hadn't noticed such a handsome detail. 

"Then I will bring you power and riches." Tobias grew closer now, breath fanning your lips. 

"Not like a king." You bit back, your glare a welcomed change to your usually expressionless face.

He twirled the hem of your dress, fingers trailing up to play with the lace holding it tied at your chest. "Not like a king. Better." 

"Impossible." 

His gaze broke from yours and trailed to the side, catching onto the dresser. You followed, feeling something sinister bubble underneath the tension. You moved slowly, ready to open the dresser and figure out what the jester's plan truly is - only Tobias had already decided; no more waiting.

As your back turned to him, he snaked an arm around your waist and brought a hand to your throat - gentle yet forceful to pull you back into his embrace. The jingle of the bells was the only sound before his lips made contact with your neck, sucking and licking at the exposed flesh. 

You moaned, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp but to no avail.

"Jester I-"

"Tobias," he began in between kisses, "You will call me Tobias." 

"I will do no such- ah!" Sucking on a particular spot, your knees weakened and buckled, the sweetest little noises escaping your lips much to Tobias's absolute delight. 

He walked backwards to sit at the edge of the bed, placing you in his lap with his legs spread wide, bulge poking into the swell of your ass. His arm locked you in place, bunching the fabric around your back and pinching at your skin. 

His other hand left your neck and moved to your lips, attempting to force a finger inside. You fought back rather brazenly, spit coating your chin as you refused to widen your mouth. His finger dragged across your teeth before you finally bit him - hard and unforgiving. 

Tobias yelped but quickly replaced his quiet ow with a chuckle. 

"Are we biting now?" He teased, moving the sleeve of your flimsy dress down. You could feel his breath suck in as he brought his teeth to your skin, gently nibbling before growing more forceful and leaving indentations in your skin. The pain caused you to release his hand from your lips, groaning and whispering curses. 

"I will have your head, filthy jester." 

"You may have all of me, my precious queen." His voice softened. Tobias nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck before licking a stripe across the bite mark he left on your shoulder. "Every inch of me is yours. So why not give me all of you?" 

His hand trailed down your body, across your chest, following the curve of your breast and down your stomach, over his own arm and stopping just above your clothed cunt, dripping with arousal despite your unwavering denial. He lifted your dress and played with the fabric of your lingerie, finding the little slit in between the panties and beginning to run slow circles into your clit. 

You bit back a moan, bottom lip tightly bitten to hold off on anything that would raise the bastard's ego any further. 

"It didn't have to be this way," he murmured, a whine laced in Tobias's voice. "I tried so hard to make you mine - willingly, I mean." 

The pad of his thumb pressed harder into your clit, the once soft circles now turning into rough swipes going up and down and around. His index and pointer dipped down to collect your wetness before continuing once again. 

Your back arched at the strange sensation, feeling a knot in your stomach as your hand dropped down to grab at Tobias's thigh, the fabric of his motley bunching between your fingers and offering him some much needed friction. He bucked into your lower back, a pleasant sigh resounding. 

His arm tightened around you, almost knocking the air from your longs but necessary, lest he lose his patience so soon. "I have to prepare you." Tobias gathered your slick on his fingers before slowly pushing one finger in - steady and purposeful, waiting for each centimeter to elicit a reaction of pleasure before continuing. He didn't want to hurt you, not that you seemed to realize. Would your king have been so restrained? Would he have delved his fingers into your needy cunt to prepare you? 

As Tobias began moving his finger in and out, and your moans became more and more audible, he couldn't help but laugh. "Do you still wish your husband were here?" 

Tobias's words seemed to snap you out of this strange stupor. You latched onto his hand and pulled him out and away from you, panting as you realized just how needy he had made you. You craned your neck to look at him, panting and wounded emotionally. 

"I..." Your words were caught in your throat. 

This is what you wanted, truly. For your handsome jester to take you instead of the old man you called your king. Through all your cognitive senses you knew this was wrong - you'd be strung up alongside this fool come morning should his majesty see you like this. And yet, his majesty is nowhere to be seen. 

"Where is my husband?" You questioned. 

Tobias groaned, annoyance evident. "Watching." 

Tobias's grin sent shivers down your spine, and you realized - you had no want to find out what he meant by that. Watching... As if the old man were here. Your gaze flickered to the dresser and then back to Tobias. 

You knew.

Of course you knew.

But the way his grip tightened and the crazed look in his eye worsened, you realized it didn't really matter. 

Well, it does. You thought, It will. Tomorrow. I will deal with his actions tomorrow.

Right now, you just needed the ache between your legs subsided. 

"Put on a good show for him," you whispered into his lips, leaning in to kiss him fully. Your tongue lapped at Tobias's mouth, teeth clanking as Tobias found your rhythm and followed suite. 

You gasped as his fingers found their way back down, this time two beginning to pump in and out of you to chase your high after you so rudely interrupted Tobias the first time. With your full compliance, he let go of your waist and instead grabbed at your breast, massaging the mound of fat and playing with your nipple through the fabric. He pulled and pinched, eliciting excited sighs in between your kisses. 

Your noses nuzzled against each other as you both fell back onto the bed, Tobias enclosing you in his front. 

"Are you ready?" He asked, practically singing his praises at how wet you had gotten from his playing with you. 

You nodded. 

"Fill me, Tobias," your words were crude, even for a queen. But the way his name sounded from your tongue sent jolts of pleasure through his body. 

From being the little and sweet jester to just Tobias was a dream come true. You spoke to him as an equal then, as a man who would worship you and the ground you walked upon and then snatch it from beneath your feet all the same.

He lifted you for just a moment, unzipping the fabric from his neck down to his groin, his chest freeing itself - large and round and nipples hardened. You wanted to see, to press your face into Tobias's pecks and allow your hands to roam his soft body all over but Tobias was quicker, using his clothed bicep to entrap you. His cock sprung out, fat and long and leaking with precum. You could feel it on your back - the way he slid the tip down to your entrance. He moved it between your thighs once, allowing you a too short view of the reddened tip, its sheer size causing your legs to squeeze together unconsciously. 

Tobias squeezed your face with his bicep further, moaning at the sensation. A little aah sounding before he forced one of your legs up and over his free arm. 

"You'll have to put me in," he laughed, both hands keeping you in a locked position against him. 

With trembling fingers you stretched as far as you could to grab Tobias's dick, the wet flesh a feeling you had never quite expected, though it made you throb. You lined yourself up, achingly slow and pushed the tip in, causing Tobias's head to fall black in complete and utter pleasure.

"So good," he moaned out. "Such a pretty cunt."

Before you could continue, Tobias bucked his hips up - you imagined on purpose though you were certain he'd deny it should you ask. His dick pierced through your gummy walls, filling you with his sheer length and burrowing deep into your warm crevices. 

"Sooo beautiful. Even better than I imagined. Gods, I want to ravage you." Tobias continued babbling on, waiting for you to move on your own while he continued to praise the tightness of your cunt. 

You began rolling your hips, grinding in the air to achieve the friction inside that would hit that spot just right. Tobias committed the movement to memory, beginning to copy you in order to help you chase relief as fast and as hard as possible. His hand squeezed at your thigh, massaging your leg and sliding across your soft, warm skin. He trailed down, hands digging into the skin of your stomach and playing with the fabric of your lingerie. 

He had never been one to enjoy such lewd costumes - Tobias knows better than anyone what it's like to be forced into a clownish dress, parading himself to others simply to entice them into enjoying his comedy. You needn't entice him anything, your bare skin perfectly crafted for his taking. What more could Tobias want? 

"To have you like this... for me... It is," he moaned a loud mmf before continuing, "It is splendid. You are perfect." 

"Tobias..." You shivered at his touch, squeezing him tighter for the praises he sang in your name. 

No longer is your jester performing for your validation. This is who he is - raw and deep and achingly romantic. The shape of his cock molded you to him, every crevice inside you explored as he begins to rut into you, losing the soft, grinding motion he initially began with. He simply couldn't keep up the rhythm, not when your gummy wells are hugging him so well, not when he can feel your slick dripping onto his happy trail and staining his costume. 

"Ah ah ah, so good, so tight. Just like that." His words became erratic. 

Tobias; ever the fool, became pussy drunk just from fucking you. He wished to stay here forever, buried inside of you with his hands roaming the expanse of your tits and neck and face. 

"I... I feel something is coming," you admitted, fingers digging into the arm holding your head in place. His grip loosened for just a moment, allowing you a breath before tightening once again, speeding his pace to fuck you into your release. 

"Let it come," Tobias reassured, "All of it. I want to hear and see all of it." 

His cock glided in and out of you, the almost pink length wet with your arousal as he rolled his hips into you. His finger circled your clit once again, your leg propped up against his forearm as he chased your high with a thorough strength you weren't sure your body was made to entirely handle. 

"I'm cumming, sweet girl, I-" Tobias's moan broke his own sentence, your scream piercing the air at the same time as he rode out both of your highs. 

His hips hesitated, pumps erratic with the feeling of his wet, thick cum coating your insides. You felt so full, so cockdrunk you didn't even care he hadn't pulled out. If anything, you wanted more, your exhausted body grinding into his softening cock once again. 

Tobias chuckled, leaving himself inside of your needy cunt as you continued grinding. 

"You want more?" He chuckled, "You want this poor jester's cock to cum inside you again?"

All you could do was nod, yes and please sputtering out of you in quiet fervor. 

Tobias flipped you onto your back, gently placing you against the velvety bedsheets as he placed his forearms at either side of you. You could finally see him fully, drink in his appearance and all of his masculine edges. His eyes were wide, pupils blown from the pleasure you granted him. His chest, large and round, seemed so warm, glistening with sweat and shadowed by his motley. 

Your fingers made their way to his stomach, thin with his ribs angled, his abs barely visible but clearly felt as you trailed along the skin. His cock hardened against your touch, and you could see its size growing until it laid against your stomach once again. 

You reached down but Tobias pulled his hips back, earning an exasperated whine from you. Gods, he loved this. You are a complete and utter mess now, perfectly desperate for him as he has always been for you. 

"Show me where you want it," he teased, grinning. 

Your pride could have gotten the better of you - perhaps if you were still facing away from him it would have. But right now, seeing his cock on full display and the way his body curls over yours, you just couldn't put up your mighty queen act even if you tried. Spreading your legs, your fingers moved to your cunt, pushing the skin aside with a reddened face, embarrassment beyond evident. "In here, Tobias." Your whispers were quieter than he would have liked, but seeing you spread wide for him is more than enough compensation. 

He pushed inside of you, your hands quickly finding his pecks and squeezing and clawing as he grinds into your needy cunt. "So good, so tight. You're such a good girl for me," he fanned into your ear, trailing wet kisses down your jawline and reaching your lips. 

A banging came from the dresser. The reality you knew and tried to deny finally making itself undeniably apparent. Tobias saw the pathetic fear contort into your features, fingers grabbing at your chin and holding you in place.

"Look at me," he ordered, still drumming into you at a deliciously slow speed. You obeyed, if only to keep him satisfied. Tobias's gaze softened at you, thumb releasing and sliding across your bottom lip. "If you go now, this ends. Forever." 

You frantically looked to the dresser through the corner of your eye, the wood moving back and forth as your king attempted to release himself. You looked back at Tobias - at him. The man with whom you've shared countless little conversations with, all jovial, all exciting. The man before you, eliciting complete and utter pleasure from you, had never once judged you for your lack of an ability to smile. If anything, it only seemed to spur him on further. 

A tear slid down your cheek and Tobias quickly wiped it away, cooing at you. 

Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "Just take me," you pleaded. 

House of the Dragon

Aemond Targaryen

Oneshot sfw - The Brothel's Artist

Original Characters

Yandere x Time Traveling Reader

You only wanted to graduate college and get a better job. So how the hell did you end up 100 years in the future?!

After finding a watch with questionable origins in the middle of a night swim, you’re suddenly transported to the year 2125. The world is war ridden and technology has reached its peak in advancement. Within the panic, fear, and confusion you meet Adonis, who seems to harbor a strange interest in the past and therefore, you. If only you had noticed when that interest became obsession.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Orc x Isekai'd Reader

Original Drabble

After transmigrating into a fantasy world filled with monsters and magical beings, you find yourself gaining the help of a group of travelers whom regrettably inform you that humans are on the brink of extinction! How could a weak human girl possibly survive in such a cruel world alone? The travelers will protect you, of course, and will help you find your way home. There is only one rule if you wish to join them in their travels, however: Kill all orcs.

The Stalker

Oneshot nsfw - The New Neighbor

In which the reader housesits, only to meet a polite neighbor who seems to recognize her. Perhaps, he thinks, it is fate.

The Siren

Oneshot nsfw - His Voice

Enamored by the lovely voice singing to you at the shore of the beach, you decide to call out to it. Whether it be a sailor or a siren, you simply wanted to put a face to the songs.

The Jester

Oneshot nsfw - The Jester's Princess

A princess mustn’t ever fall in love with any being deemed lesser. A peasant turned court jester would certainly be out of the question. However, a marriage proposal seems to blur this distinct separation.

Oneshot nsfw - King’s Marriage

The queen who can’t smile; your unofficial title, it seems, has gained the attention of a sly jester. His intentions in gaining your trust a selfish whirlwind of self preservation and obsessive love.

The Alien

Oneshot nsfw - Out of this World

He only needs to collect humans for an experimentation process. Study, hypothesize, conclude - that is it. So, why is it that he feels such a need to poke and prod at you specifically?

Drabble nsfw - Idea Dump

A rushed drabble on an idea for a barbarian warrior alien.

The Elf

Oneshot nsfw - Work Trip

In which the reader must study flora in the Elven Kingdom's territory. Your tour guide? The elven king, himself, of course.

The Bully

Oneshot nsfw - Study Group

A group project with the campus bully. What could possibly go wrong? Everything... Everything can go wrong... and it is all his fault!

The King

Oneshot nsfw - I Became the King's Special Maid!!!

When awaking in an otome game you frequently played, your least favorite romance option seems to have developed a strange affection for you. Only, you are not the game's mc - and the King is meant to be her main love interest.

The Farmer

Oneshot nsfw - Car Troubles

A boring road trip leads you to meeting a dashing stranger. Though, your affections for the man seem to have caused a small misunderstanding.

The Incubus

Oneshot nsfw - Erotic Virgin

You are a complete and total virgin, with a love for erotic fiction! During a visit to an ero-convention, you meet your favorite author; only… there seems to be something familiar about him.

The Vampire

Drabble sfw - Idea Dump

A rushed drabble on meeting the vampire.

The Prince

Oneshot nsfw - His Obedient Dog

Sometimes you really fucking hated being a woman.

This was one of those times.

The crown would be holding a joust, with attendees of noble houses, military commandants, and large champion prizes. The flyer - which is really just a tawny piece of fabric - held excitable phrasing to entice any and all knights to fight for unimaginable riches.

Except it wasn't truly "any and all."

Women were not allowed to fight in tourneys or melees. It is seen as unfit, a disgrace. Women are far too weak and frail and blah blah blah...

You didn't care.

Looking at yourself in the reflection of the river, you felt a sense of pride. Sure, you're smaller than average, maybe a little less muscular than most men; but plenty of younger boys and men fought in these tourneys. Many have won.

And brute strength really isn't the deciding factor in winning. Your armor was cheap, dirty, and rusted. A gift, to some extent, by an old blacksmith who knew your parents. You did a few odd jobs here and there, and when he felt enough pity the poor old man would give you a wooden sword and a shield and let you have at it.

Your natural skills were impeccable. He noticed, most did too when they saw you.

What you lacked in size you made up for in agility and speed. Movements so precise that your sparring partners (fellow children of the village) did not see you move by the time the edge of your play-sword was at their throat.

The only thing holding you back was your sex. The blacksmith knew this and so he often tried to discourage you of your fantasies.

But a soft heart can only keep strength for so long.

As an adult your passions had never faltered, still swinging around swords with anyone who would entertain you. Your dream, however, changed. You did not want to be just any knight, giving your life on the battlefield with an honorable death. You wanted to belong to the crown, to serve them within the castle walls as a protector.

Was it because you cared for your kingdom's royalty? No, not at all actually. You figured they must pay pretty damn good and you knew your skills were good enough to land you the job.

You sighed, tying your hair to conceal it within your helmet.

The crown did not require proof of identity nor any pre requisitions for the joust. The hope was to bring talent from across the kingdom and beyond; to create a military so powerful even mercy would be violent.

You just needed to showcase your talents and not remove your helmet.

"Ser Jamys," they called to you, your falsified name almost slipping from your mind. "Shall battle against Ser Raaf."

You were both at attention, opposing sides cheering and screaming. Your horse is rather weak and a mutt, contrasting Ser Raaf who seems  to be of high prestige. He is tall but thin, and you wondered if the crowd believed you to be a young boy about to die for petty glory.

The crown prince, Prince Terrin, was the first to cheer for you; the only one to hold up the red rose, its color designated to you by the announcer. In a sea of white roses, the prince's hand was almost like a small blood stain ruining the scenery.

Perhaps he did pity you. His blonde locks fell loosely to his ears, eyes a kind brown that crinkled as he offered a polite smile to the crowd before turning to the courtyard. No, he simply wanted to appraise himself; show his future subjects that he will support the underdog - and therefore them. The peasants who are constantly trampled upon by the upper class. His toothy grin was almost sadistic when it reached you.

As if to say, You will fail so take my support like a good dog.

You scoffed.

But you needed to show him that his decision to root for you was fated, that the red of the rose would represent the blood of your enemy as you'd reign victorious and eventually win the entire joust.

Prince Terrin's support, however fake it may be, is a step in the right direction.

Ser Raaf was the easiest opponent. Those that flaunt are always weakest, their shiny swords and beautiful horses meant to mask the lack of skill.

Every swing from Ser Raaf would end in a dodge and hit from you, eventually ending with the man falling from his horse and being trampled.

You could see a glint in the prince's eyes, intrigue.

"Why! Little Ser Jamys is not quite so little anymore!" The announcer called, your victory earning cheers from the crowd. You were exhausted but you figured this would be one of the easier feats. As more and more men are downed from their horses, the more difficult it will be to win. 

You sat in the stable beside your horse, hay cushioning you from hitting the floor as you plopped down to rest until the day's joust would end. Then the distribution of the spoils would commence, and you would be a few gold coins richer. You imagined turning Ser Raaf's amor into your own. Surely, a good blacksmith would provide. 

You stared down at the armor given to you from the blacksmith back home and sighed.

Ever the sentimental fool, you thought to yourself, deciding to simply wear the rusted scraps of your village. 

"Quite the fight, boy." A voice announced, deep and brooding and laced with something akin to honey. "You surprised me, my brothers as well." 

You sniffled as the small bit of blood trickled down your lip, tapping your helmet before looking up to see who decided to disturb your rest. 

"They all gambled against you. Today, you've made me a wealthier man." 

The crown prince; oldest out of four boys. He stands tall, chest burley and fur coat hanging haphazardly. You shifted quickly, kneeling and bowing your head. You'd like to avoid speaking directly, your village's blacksmith often laughed at your attempts at speaking "manly."

A small satchel fell at your feet, ornate gold swirls decorating the rim and leading to the latch holding it shut. You looked to Prince Terrin and then down at the bag, slowly lifting and opening the latch to reveal silver coins - a lot of them. 

Once again, you lifted your head, confusion somehow obvious despite the helmet covering your features. The prince barked out a laugh. "For you. To bet on a racehorse, one must also give to the horse, no?" 

You nodded, bowing your head.

"Do you not speak, boy?" 

You shook your head. 

"A mute?" He cocked his head to the side. "Well, a knight does not need his voice. Strength and skill is the only requirement, I suppose." He brought a gloved, slender finger to his lips, faking a shushing motion before turning on his heel. 

"Keep winning and I will keep betting on you. My brothers and I haven't had such fun in years!" 

-

By the second day, you were placed to fight a Ser Niall. You knew of him, if only barely. During one of the earlier days, you had seen him drunkenly seeking out women. A sleaze, but a damn good fighter. His presence in jousting is lacking, but when he manages to knock you from your horse, he becomes a weapon in his own right; swinging around a flail that would leave your armor (and ribs) shattered. 

'Ser Jamys," called the announcer, "shall battle Ser Niall!" 

The roses were dropped upon the crowd; the familiar red amongst a sea of white once again stabilizing you. The prince is cheeky, offering a sharpened, toothy grin as if you weren't mere seconds from getting your head bashed in with a spiked, steel ball. 

The fight was close on horse. Ser Niall did as you predicted and focused on attacking your horse's legs, forcing you to the ground where he would have the advantage. 

Only he underestimated your skill in combat. You ran away and Ser Niall chased you, winding up the flail as you used the wooden fence as leverage. Running, jumping, and pushing yourself from the top of the fence allowed you to gain momentum. You knew you couldn't outrun the flail, but you could use it to your advantage. 

Ser Niall swung through the wooden fence, the impact softening the blow as it hit you on your leg and forced your body to turn midair, sword swinging down to capture his arm in one hit. The sound of your sword slicing through flesh was loud as the crowd became quiet. Ser Niall fell, choked sobs and pleas sounding as you removed your sword from between his armor. 

You had won, and Prince Terrin was elated. 

That night, one of the noble houses held a feast for the people. A celebration in honor of all the brave knights who had fought and, of course, to celebrate the crown. The king and queen were beloved by their people, though tensions were strong amongst the family for who would usurp the throne. 

You would have joined. Gods, the taste of some good meat and wine would cure you of all your maladies. But it would be strange for a knight to walk around in full gear, pushing pieces of meat through whatever crevice in his helmet to eat. 

Instead, you would stay in the familiar stable before heading off to the mountain. 

"I am beginning to think you are more interested in being a stableboy than a knight." 

You quickly stood and then knelt, recognizing Prince Terrin's voice immediately. 

He dropped the satchel once again at your feet, and beside it a wrapped-up piece of bread. 

"Do you dislike nobles? You were not at the banquet." He chimed.

You stilled, unsure if you were allowed to move before a finger poked your helmet, sending you backward into the hay. The prince chuckled. 

"You've truly impressed me, boy. I fear my brothers will soon stop betting against you," He sighed, kneeling in front of you with a hand to his chin. "Ahh~" He sighed out, finally deciding to sit fully on the ground. 

You stared at the way his finely threaded clothes soiled and felt a hint of resentment. Must be nice.

"Well? Will you not eat?" Your heart dropped.

Shiiiit.

You shook your head, pushing the food forward. 

Prince Terrin knew, at this moment, something was off. You're hiding something, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

He smiled; that same, sweet smile that carried such intense arrogance. "If you won't eat, then you won't earn." He took the satchel back into his coat, hiding it beneath the expensive furs. 

You simply nodded. 

"What a disappointing reaction." 

I'd rather be broke than dead. 

"Fine," he dropped the satchel back at your feet. "I was only teasing." 

Standing, Prince Terrin turned to leave once again before stopping himself. 

"Your leg. How is it?" He questioned, raising a brow.

You gave a light tap to your ankle, as if to say, all good!

He gave a hesitant hod. "We have a healer's tent. Why not get treatment?"

You feverously shook your head, tapping your ankle again, this time harder.

"What a strange boy," the prince uttered before disappearing once again.

-

Nearing the end of the tournament, your final battle was with a noble house's knight. He did not seem particularly strong or skilled, and his physique left little to your expectation. But, you worried. His technique is impressive, and he knows to compensate his faults with more than just brute force.

You had won five times. Five days of fighting, five wins, five payments from Prince Terrin. Ever since the night you had rejected his offering of food and medical help, he had ceased his visits. Despite that, however, he continued to cheer you on. To the crowd, you were a miracle; and soon enough, the sea of white roses began spilling with your redness. 

"Ser Jamys," the announcer called, "shall battle against Ser Dederick."

It was a heavy loss. One that almost ended your life. 

He blocked your killing blow. You aimed for his neck, and you faltered. Not out of hesitance, or pity, or anything that would deem you noble. No, you saw the prince behind him. There was a look in his eye, a sharpness in them with a deep frown that seemed to tell you don't do it.

Why on earth you listened, you weren't sure. But his gaze was enough to halt your movements. From there, Ser Dederick was able to land three consecutive hits with his dagger, his sword sliding from his sheath in case you dared stand again. 

You did.

You didn't know why. It was clear Prince Terrin wanted you to lose, and the blood pooling from your abdomen should have been enough for you to accept defeat and go home - before you end up dead. 

But, you stood. As tall as you could, as mighty as you could feign. 

Your rusted armor, the one the sweet old blacksmith had carefully prepared for you, was coated in red and black. Blood, dirt, and the stains of your past enemies seemed to cover you entirely. You threw your sword to the side, fists balled and at attention.

If winning was not your destiny, you'd be damned if you went out without a fight. You swung, and swung again, missing half your swings as the few that landed did little to no damage. 

You're a woman. You're strong and capable but with the blood loss, you felt more akin to a child in need of its mother. 

Ser Dederick seemed impressed. Just enough to toss his own sword and dagger to the side and swing back. One blow to the head and you were down. Not unconscious, not yet. Perhaps soon. 

The crowd cheered for Ser Dederick, who's arms went flying in euphoric victory. 

You just needed to take your horse to the stable house. You had hidden medical supplies. You'll patch yourself up (assuming you even survive that long), wait out the final joust of the day, collect your spoils and head home. 

You earned enough to get by; at least enough to last you the next few winters. 

It wasn't a total loss. 

You were certain the blacksmith would be happy to see you.

You sat atop hay, waiting beside your horse in the stables. You imagined the scoldings you would receive from the blacksmith. The armor he spent such care creating, turned to nothing but a heap of metal covering you.

 You could feel the blood coating your skin dripping across your brows and cheek and nose as you refused to take off your helmet. You removed your chest plate, hissing as you walked into one of the empty sections and sat behind a pile of hay. You imagined the missing horse must be Ser Dederick's, or one of the next fighters out practicing already. 

The stableboy was the only one who came and went from the stable house, a child no older than ten or so. He never bothered you; often too frightened to get close. 

You disinfected the open wounds as best you could. You figured that you still being alive meant Ser Dederick missed your vital points. You would never have made such a mistake. 

You wrapped your bare upper body with bandages, stomach now coated in white with small red splotches. 

I must hold out until I can collect my prizes.

You had won quite a bit; the spoils of your opponents, the intrigue of a few commanders, the riches the cruel prince gave to you. 

You would return having proven yourself to your precious blacksmith.

You balled your fists, groaning. It wasn't enough. Not for you.

The pain you felt was not nearly as bad as the disappointment bubbling in your chest. You could have done better. You needed to have done better. Why the hell did the prince want you to fail?!

Had you simply read him wrong? Was his scolding look really just disappointment? Or perhaps concentration? No, you were certain he was reprimanding you - telling you to stand down like the good dog he wanted you to be. 

"Knight boy? Where have you run off to?" His deep voice called, lulling you out of your thoughts. 

Shit. You ceased your movements, realizing your breast plate and upper garments are still outside of the stall and your upper body is nude. Sure, maybe covered in armor you'd look gender neutral enough - but you had two reasons, big or small, why you might not look exactly like a man.

"Don't tell me you've gone and died. You were not in the healer's tent." 

Your horse neighed and his hoof dug at the ground expectantly, almost erratic. 

Your breathing slowed, eyes darting in every direction. Your helmet is still on. He couldn't pinpoint your face even if he wanted to. 

Okay, if he sees me, just run. You looked down at your bandaged wounds. I might die. But that's okay. 

You quietly got to your feet, still kneeling behind the stack of hay. How your armor didn't clank and alert the entire goddamned fleet you weren't sure. 

One by one, he opened each stall, peering in with curious brown eyes. The less he saw of you, the more worried he became. 

Prince Terrin's movements picked up, stall doors slamming open the closer he got to you. By the time he reached your horse, he patted his nose before turning around to slam open the final stall. 

There, amidst a pile of blood, hay, and mud, was you. 

Clad in half your armor, helmet shifted to the side and upper body bare for the prince to fully take in. You looked ridiculous. 

"A woman?" He muttered. 

You stood, the sound of your armor brushing past Prince Terrin as you limply ran to get away from him. His arm went out, latching onto you and pulling you back into the stall. The softness of the fabrics covering his arm was a welcomed change to the metal you were used to; though it was short lived as you fell back onto the pile of hay. 

This situation felt familiar.

You simply laid there, chest heaving up and down as you waited for Prince Terrin's reaction.

He looked back at your horse, then at your breast plate and clothes discarded next to it, and then back to you. 

"The knight boy?" He whispered to himself, edges of his lips quirking up momentarily.

The prince took a step forward and you brought your hand up, wincing in pain and causing him to stop. 

"D-Don't come any closer." You warned. 

He cocked his head to the side. "Or what? Will you harm your prince?" 

You hesitated. 

"I... I just want to go home. You can take the coins you gave me back." Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be. Honestly, it was a miracle you were even talking.

"Hm?" He looked at your woven bag in the corner of the stable house, no doubt filled with the silver coins he brought to you your first fights. He would be lying if he said the swell of your breasts, perked and (skin color), didn't have his mind reeling. 

Women were always so clean and smooth, polite and of high status. He had never known it was even possible to see one in such a state of disarray. Cut and bruised, covered in the grime of battle. He wondered, if only for a moment, what could be beneath the helmet. 

"I did not come to retrieve coin."

Silence. 

"Will you have my head?" You spoke.

He chuckled. "I also did not come to spill blood. You have done enough of that for the both of us," he joked, gloved hands motioning to your blood-soaked body. 

You sat up, a little taller, a little less defensive. Your fingers gripped into the hay beside you, knuckles turning white. 

"Why?" he questioned.

"Why?" You repeated.

"This. Why impersonate a knight? Do you lack money?" He kneeled. "Most women turn towards other methods, I believe." He raked over your body with lecherous eyes. "To me, you seem perfectly adept for it." 

You scoffed. "I am not impersonating anything. I am a knight or-" You sighed. "I was supposed to become one. This joust..." 

"I see."

"I enjoy the ways of knighthood. That is all."

Prince Terrin nodded in understanding. A silence enveloped you both as you waited for the prince to decide his verdict. To decide your fate for impersonating not only a man, but a knight.

"A shame," he mumbled, a smirk beginning to form. "I came here to offer you such a position." 

Your ears perked up, helmeted face lifting to meet Prince Terrin's. "What?" Your voice was quiet, barely audible.

"Ah~ I was impressed by your compliance today. You understood when I asked you to lose." A beat passed, "And you lost. Such severe pain, almost dying even! And yet, you still listened to me." 

Your face burned at the implication. 

A good dog. 

"But to employ a woman... I fear it makes this far too difficult." He peered at you from the corner of his eyes, sharp teeth bared. "What if you fail to hide your little secret?" 

You didn't miss a moment to interject. "I won't!" You cleared your throat, realizing how loud you had been. "...I won't. I will serve you as - er - better than any other knight has served you, my prince."

"Hmmm~" A gloved hand found its way to the bottom of your helmet. Not lifting, just resting, holding you in place. You changed your position to kneeling, one knee holding you up despite the pain coursing through your limbs. 

You brought your fist to your chest, holding it in place. "I will serve you properly, my lord. I will protect you with my life." 

Prince Terrin felt the tent in his pants rise. He always had a bit of a love for dominating others. Though, he had never guessed it would bleed into his sexual habits. Then again, he never had a lady knight kneeling in front of him with her tits hanging free. The redness of his ears was visible, his cheeks matching the color as he reveled in your begging. 

He lightly slapped one of your tits as he laughed, practically giggling at how you simply let him. 

"I will knight you." Your heart practically burst. Sure, it was clear the bastard is a sadistic freak with some issues. But to hell with it all! 

You weren't losing your head! 

And you get to be a knight!

-

Prince Terrin had introduced you to a doctor that was sworn to secrecy. 

You had not seen him since. 

Weeks went by. You became an appointed knight, your identity as a woman still hidden beyond the doctor and your prince; you figured the prince knew better than to publicly go against the law. A small lie would allow for more damage control.

You both knew this.

And you didn't care. After being sworn in, you accepted your new post with gratitude. Your life now belonged to Prince Terrin and the royal family. So long as you got paid at the end of each cycle, you would gladly accept the task of protecting them all with your life. 

When you fully healed, you were immediately instructed to head to Prince Terrin's study - you would now be his personal knight. 

Your days became stagnant. Prince Terrin was rather normal, at least for a member of the royal family. He would spend hours working in his study, occasionally take walks, have dinner with his mother, and sleep until dawn. You were almost bored. 

He had never again mentioned your sex - hell, he had not spoken to you since the incident first occurred. 

Your life became almost... Perfect.

Though, all good things must come to an end eventually. 

A marriage announcement; the youngest prince would be betrothed soon. You had never met the youngest prince due to each wing of the castle separating each brother. Occasionally you would see him during dinners should his presence be required. The youngest brother is a little isolated, you thought to yourself as you stood at attention outside Prince Terrin's chambers. 

His bride would join dinner that evening, which meant the entire family would be in one space. It was of no matter to you, though you were often on high alert during such times. With the royal family in one space, you were certain attempts for their lives - the crown prince's life - was inevitable.

The prince emerged from his room, dressed in his finest attire. Red and gold and black, the family colors. His blackened top and pants contrasted the cape draped over his shoulders, white furs leading down to the red fabric accented with gold roses. Prince Terrin, ever the haughty bastard. He needed to ensure the bride's family understood that the youngest brother is nothing more than a mere connection. They need to empty the castle for Prince Terrin's reign, and they happened to have an eligible daughter for their youngest son. Should they get ideas about usurping the throne, you figured the prince would sick you on them. 

Let us all hope his attire sends the message and keeps your hands clean. 

The dinner went exactly as you had expected. Normal at first, only for an assassin to clear the halls and enter in search of the crown prince. 

You stood at attention, sword drawn and protectively covering the prince. The assassin, clad in dark garments and a hood, seemed to recognize you.

"The boy knight from the tourney? My, you defeated an old friend of mine."

His voice was gravelly and cold. You wished you could respond with a clever quip. Part of the fun of fighting was mouthing off to your opponent. But you knew better. A feminine voice would get you beheaded, or worse. So, you simply moved the hilt of your sword forward, staggering the enemy with a small push of force. 

"His arm is no more. I suppose I can avenge him tonight."

Yeah, fat chance. 

As the assassin swung, you fell back and blocked with your arm, the point of his dagger digging into the crevice and slicing you. You hissed in pain but lunged forward, leaning down to grab his legs and bring him to the ground. His knees buckled, though he refused to fall and now had to wrestle out of your grip. Behind you, the king shouted at the other guards to intervene, and when they began swinging, you took your chance to finally bring the assassin down with you. 

He punched at your helmet; your face hitting the metal with a loud clank before you shoved the blade of your sword into his heart. 

The assassin was dead, and you were damn near exhausted. 

The rest of the brothers had been removed from the room, only yours remained.

You decided to leave the sword in his body, certain you'd receive it later after the king and his associates investigate the matter. You nodded to Prince Terrin, whispering quietly to not be heard, "My prince, we should leave."

Your voice sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, and he stood almost excitedly. 

You escorted him to his room, entering in front in order to ensure the room would be safe for his entry. You did not speak, only nodded before stepping aside to leave Prince Terrin to calm from the ridiculous assassination attempt.

When you turned to leave, his commanding voice halted you. "I did not give you permission to leave my chambers." 

You turned to him, standing at attention. 

"Remove your armor. I will dress your wound." 

He closed the doors before sitting on his bed, waiting for you to join him. As if you weren't already in big enough trouble as it is being a woman. If anybody were to catch you, you'd be-

"Will you disobey your prince?" His voice dropped, angry. He liked you as the obedient dog, not as the stiff, law-abiding little knight. 

You began unbuckling the straps of your armor, the shoulder and gauntlet falling to the ground loudly. You began walking towards him only to, again, be stopped. "All of it. Remove everything." 

You hesitated but ultimately decided you'd rather not get on Prince Terrin's bade side. The armor dropped one by one. When you went to lift the helmet from your head, the prince spoke. "Leave it."

You nodded. A ripped white shirt - really, it's more beige from how lived in it had become - and pants covered in the assassin's blood and a metal helmet. 

What could the prince possibly want with you like this?

You carefully sat beside the prince as he rolled your sleeve up, disinfecting the wound, cleaning the blood, and bandaging it. 

"You are an impressive knight." He spoke. "Far better than any I have ever seen."

There was a heavy silence. You were unsure if you were even allowed to speak. He simply continued dressing your wound, clinging to your dirty arm with his clean fingers working nimbly. 

"Do you wish to speak? I'll allow it. Nobody can hear you in here." He encouraged, more curious than anything.

You supposed now would be the best time to speak your thoughts. 

"If I am a good knight, why did you ask me to lose the joust?" 

He cocked his head to the side - a habit he seems to do often. "You still don't understand that?" Prince Terrin barked out a laugh. "I was only testing your obedience. What good does a talented knight get me if she is not willing to die when I ask her to?" 

"You say her."

"You are a woman."

"I am." 

He laughed again, this time quieter, more thoughtful. "You've done your job well."

You nod. "Why did you hold up the red rose? During my first joust, I mean." The question hung heavy in the air. 

Prince Terrin pondered and pondered, humming as he thought to himself a good answer. He let go of your arm and leaned into your clothed shoulder, a languid bite sinking into your skin and drawing a small whimper from your lips. You bled, only a small amount, enough for the prince's lips to turn a light crimson as he licked them. 

"I adore the color red."

You blushed furiously. "I will take my leave n-" Before you could even move, the prince had already entrapped you beneath him, your back now against the soft expanse of his bed as he loomed over you, his fur cape casting dark shadows across your body. 

"I did not give you permission to leave my chambers yet."

You scoffed, plainly, hesitantly. "You do not respect me."

"Must I respect a knight? You are beneath my station." His words mirrored the plainness of your own. "I employed an obedient dog, not a self-righteous oaf." 

Your anger bubbled in your throat. You enjoyed this and yet you hated it. The conflicting emotions left you dazed. 

"You are the perfect knight. You follow the rules, you do not speak or argue, you stand quietly and kill when you must." Almost inaudibly now, "You are perfect." 

He bit the edge of his gloves, removing them one by one and tossing them to the side of the room. "I respect you," he confirmed. "I do. Truly." Was he lying to you or to himself? "But when I see you like this... Half-clothed, dirty, covered in blood after exerting yourself I simply-" He leaned down, the tent in his pants now caressing between your legs and coaxing a small sigh from his lips. "I fear my self control is rather limited." 

"And if I say no?"

"You are foolish to think you have a say." 

He lowered his head, slowly and carefully, almost afraid that you'll retaliate.

You could. You could gut him right now or punch his jaw out of place and go running for the hills. Truly, nothing is stopping you. He has not yet seen your face, nor has anybody known that you were a woman impersonating a knight. Nobody would ever find you.

Perhaps, Prince Terrin knew this. By concealing your face, he would not be able to find you. You may choose to hurt the crown prince and escape and somehow get away with it. Ironic; to have killed an assassin for wanting to bring harm to your precious Terrin only for you to want to do the same. But when you bring your fist up, shaking and unsure, his lips connect with your neck, long nose poking at the metal hiding your face as he trails open mouthed kisses down the vein to your collarbone. His spit is everywhere, sloppy and wet as he undoes the little strings holding your shirt together. Your tits spill out, and he's reminded of the day he first discovered your little secret.

You feel his bulge grow harder, his own thoughts spurring him on as he begins sucking on your right nipple. His fingers pinch and roll the left one, pulling to elicit as many little noises from you as possible. "Come on, little knight. I know you can be louder than that." 

Another rough pinch and your head dips back, your breaths heavy inside the helmet. Everything felt more intense with the sweat accumulating inside. You could hear the echoing of your breathing, feel the small shifts in weight as he covered your visor. 

He doesn't wait, lowering your pants without so much as a care to your feelings. The few seconds he moves down to remove them, light returns into your helmet and then immediately, you feel something hard and thick prodding at your folds, following the line of your entrance up and down and up and down. Prince Terrin collected your wetness on his tip, his form as impressive as he is. His balls hung low and heavy, the base just slightly darker than his skin before leading to a pretty pink. Long, thick, and with a vein that leads right to that sweet spot. 

He curled his fingers around his length, slapping at your cunt and laughing. You imagined those sharp canines flashing, you wondered if he was blushing, if his pupils were blown wide at the sight of his knight laid naked for him to use. 

"Mhhmmm, that's it~ Your cunt is even prettier than I imagined." 

"Fuck. Do you feel how hard you've made me?" He laughed again, sliding his dick against you once again. "Gods, it's almost painful."

Prince Terrin isn't a caring prince, no matter how hard he tries to seem like he is. His cruelty extends to his sexual life, no doubt. He does not care for the interests of others so long as he gets exactly what he wants. He got his obedient knight, a damn beautiful one at that, so why not exploit you as much as he can in any way he can?

He pushed his length into you, raw and quick. There was little prep, none really. The stretch was agonizing and you let out a scream that only seemed to egg him on further. He moaned into your shoulder, biting again and drawing even more blood. "So good, so good. Gods, your perfect."

He left himself inside for a long minute, enjoying the clench of your walls as you needily asked for more. 

"Please move," you whispered, breaths heaving. Prince Terrin gripped at the wound on your arm, causing you to yelp.

"Who gave you permission to speak?"

His bloodied fingers then slid further down, bringing your hand to where you both connected and having you stroke whatever of his dick wasn't inside of your warm cunt. "You feel that? This is what will fill you up," another languid bite, "I'll bury my cock deep inside of you and cum as much as I please." 

Prince Terrin soon became erratic, unable to hold still as his hips started unconsciously jerking into you. His fingers, still coated in your blood, began rubbing circles at your clit, the little nub practically begging for attention as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you. "A knight's pussy," he mumbled, words barely making sense. "So fucking good."

You moaned at his words, eliciting a chuckle from the prince. "Perhaps I'll make you my personal whore. Dress you up like a little knight in your under garments."

He didn't believe what he was saying, of course not. What Prince Terrin loved most about you was your fighting spirit, your need to get dirty and bloody and kill for his sake. He knew the minute he saw you win that you would be a valuable asset. 

But in learning that you carried a wet, sweet cunt between your legs; of course he would also give you value elsewhere. 

His thrusts grew in pace, pistoning out of you with lewd slapping, his balls hitting your ass every time his tip hit your cervix. Little ah ah ah's left your lips for every thrust, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you. He curled his biceps around your waist, forcing a small arch of your back. The slight change in position made Prince Terrin hit deeper, causing you to see stars.

"Mmf, hah, so beautiful." He mumbled.

Just as he was nearing his end, a knock upon his doors echoed.

"My prince! Are you alright? Shall we send for the physician?" A voice, likely one of the guards sent by his father, spoke. 

"I am - ah - fine! No need to-" You continued clenching as he stopped, eliciting small moans. 

Prince Terrin huffed, maneuvering beneath your helmet to grab at your neck and squeeze.

"I am alright! Please tell my father not to worry!"

Some acknowledgements were exchanged before the room became silent again, save for the prince's heavy breathing. He let go of your neck and pulled you up and off the bed, his dick leaving the warm embrace of your cunt - much to his dismay. 

"That was a dangerous move, knight." He brought his hardened tip to the edge of your helmet, lifting it just enough to push it inside. "You will make up for it. Maybe then, I will allow you," he shoved his boot to your sopping cunt, moving slowly as you grinded without even thinking. "To enjoy yourself as well."

You let your lips part, wet tongue finding his dick as he immediately buried himself into you. Your mouth is warm, your tongue moving and licking beneath as Prince Terrin begins to face fuck you. "Ah, mmf, even your mouth feels this good." 

You bobbed your head up and down, and the prince decided to reward you by moving his shoe in tandem, allowing you to get off beneath him. 

Your moans as you sucked him off spurred him further, drool falling at your chin and your wetness soaking his royal floors. 

"Filthy. Such a filthy knight." 

His words soon died down, turning into nothing more than groans and heavy breaths as he neared his release and you yours. "Ah ah, my prince, I'm- I think I'm-" You spasmed beneath Prince Terrin as he released his milky load into your throat. He breathed out, riding into your face until you took every last drop inside you. 

You released his dick with a loud pop, your visor falling back down. 

Earth dies - radiation, war, sun explosion, whatever - and you happen to work at a space exploration company. You learn of Earth’s fate early and decide fuck this, I’m outta here and steal one of the shuttles meant for some rich prick. Or maybe you fix a scrapped one if you’d feel bad lol!

It doesn’t go smoothly, you go in cryo sleep and hope you’ll end up somewhere. You wake up, pull a Project Hail Mary and realize it’s way too early and you need to land asap.

Well, lucky for you there seems to be a planet just a few light years away!

You pull up (omitting a ton of information here, this is a Drabble let me be) and the landing is rocky (pun intended). You’re in a space suit knocked out cold, unsure if the planet you’re gonna land in is even habitable or if you’re gonna die upon entry.

You don’t (yay!).

When you’re there, you’re found by warrior scouts patrolling the forests. They saw the massive fireball and the King (your future man) sends them out to check.

This planet is habitable, and it’s almost exactly like Earth. Only it is far beyond in the future, well past nuclear war. There is old technology that isn’t salvageable everywhere, and the people are technologically primitive. It seems hundreds of years after nuclear war causes regression; they are simply clans that focus on a culture of hunting, farming, and fighting as warriors.

There’s similarities in how they look. Humanly and diverse, but one key feature sets them apart; yellow eyes. Brighter than the sun. All of em.

Also let’s assume radiation levels went back down.

So anyways, they find you inside the capsule in your space suit and are like wtf is this? and bring you back to their king.

When you wake up, your arms and legs are shackled and you’re in a prison cell alone. You can barely see anything because your helmet is covered in dirt, muck, and condensation.

The metal sounds scrape against your ears and you hear multiple footsteps. A woman speaks, you can’t understand her.

You’re confused, they’re confused. We’re all confused, really.

You decide to remove your helmet (ts is hard with metal on your hands but whatever), and when you can finally see; everybody looks shocked.

The warriors are confused cuz 1. You’re kind of one of them and 2. You’re actually not a monster with glass for a head.

Also you now don’t look as threatening as they initially thought.

And you’re like am I back on Earth? Did I get lost and go in a circle in SPACE?

King is smitten though. You’re gorgeous, your features are unlike anything he’d ever seen.

He’s handsome as well; tall and brooding. Furs decorating his tattooed shoulders while his happy trail is barely peaking from his shirt (it’s really just ripped leather tied together at the front). He has long, dark brown hair with braids at the top. You’re pretty sure the sun-like indent on his forehead is a scar. Little star tattoos following the shape of his eyebrows.

And blah blah blah, you can’t communicate cuz language barrier. Time skip to after you get acquainted. Cute moments ensue where he’s teaching you his language. You manage to find old translator tech and merge it with yours so the languages can be in one data base. Yippee deep conversations with the hot warrior king.

More cute moments where there’s a lot of culture shock on both ends.

Nsfw below:

You almost die because one of the enemy clans sees you as a threat to their order. Maybe there’s a prophecy that a sky person would come and destroy their planet. King saves you, he rambles on about how he almost lost you.

Maybe you kiss him to stop him from talking, but all it does is make him look at you like you’re his next meal. He’s trying to hold back; because you were hurt and also because apparently not everyone is a warrior on your planet - especially not you (ha nerd).

The king tries so hard to be gentle at first, but the more you get undressed, the tighter his pants get, and the more you whisper into his ear the less he can control his desire for you.

When he whispers in his language it really gets you going, and the way you try to do the same to impress him just makes his dick that much harder.

He wonders if his clan will accept a Sky person as Queen.

Perhaps he’ll simply kill anyone that dares object.

-