Vampire knight!Choso x Princess!Reader
S. Choso is all darkness and mystery, but to you, he is much more. Though your love is forbidden and many things stand in the way, duty, honor, obedience. You still share the most private of moments with him. However, there’s something about him that just seems a little…off.
cw: sexual content, dark fantasy, gothic themes, kinda established relationship(?), dark themes, slight horror(mostly at the end), forbidden love, blood and gore, biting, consensual blood drinking, pwp, soft dom!reader, submissive!Choso and switch!Choso, sex viewed as a sin, religious themes, religious imagery, period cunnilingus, blood during sex, period sex, so much blood, I am not joking about the blood part, misogyny, brief mentions of sexual harassment, public-ish masturbation, prince vampire!Noaya, HOTD inspired, piv.
a/n: Special shout out to @cowboysareloverboys for helping me come up with the ending while sitting in canes after the jjk movie 🖤 it’s always nice to revisit vampire choso in my own little way. I’ve had this fic in the drafts for a long while and it has been rewritten twice so I hope you guys enjoy my hard work <3 If I missed any tags or you spot any mistakes please let me know!
Dividers by animatedglittergraphics-n-more. Banner art by NC9_
You weren’t born into royalty, it was given to you.
How you became a princess was nothing short of a miracle. Everything happened so fast, it was like you blinked and all of a sudden you’re being adorned in the shiniest pearls and the prettiest dresses. Nightwalker, creatures of myth. You hated the fact that they are to blame for your royal upbringing. You were a princess thanks to the creature that slaughtered your parents.
It’s almost fitting that you came into the palace drenched in sweat and blood, your clothes ripped from the attack. At least thats how he found you, sitting on the trail that led to your house. You looked a mess, yet he looked at you like you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
You were terrified when he hauled you up on his war horse, scared he was going to abandon you in town, drop you off at a pleasure house. Instead he marched his black beauty right through town until you saw the spires that disappeared into the fog, the intricate carvings in stone, and the windows that let warm light bleed out of them.
The queen was generous enough to take you in. She respected your family for the war horses they bred. After finding out about the tragic death of your parents, she seemed more than happy to take you in. Especially since she had no heirs.
From then on, for the next seven years, it was history lessons, dressage, attending all sorts of balls, doing charity work for the public, and eventually participating in council meetings. You grew used to being a princess, grew used to the palace life. Though there was always something about the place that made your skin crawl.
You think it’s the pests, the bats that hang from the ceiling. They shuffle around loudly from dusk to dawn. Maybe it’s the older noblemen who haven’t seen a woman your age since the queen was young, their stares burning into your exposed skin as you walked the halls. Or maybe it was the dark corners that no candle could light up.
The crumbling palace sat on the cliffside of a gorge. The large river roaring below it. Often covered by a thick blanket of fog and falling snow, surrounded by trees, the palace was hidden from the town. Only on some days could you see its tall spires. It was old, older than the queen herself, and although the environment was eating at it, cracks in the walls and bricks falling from the ceiling, it was still beautiful. The stone floors were always cold under your feet and the windows were always clean and clear.
Some of the rooms were adorned with paintings of wars, members of the royal family, or the wonderful forests that spread throughout the kingdom. All of the rooms were cozy, not always warm, but your favorite place in the palace was your personal chambers. Decorated to your liking, it fit all of your favorite things. But your chambers wasn’t your favorite thing about the palace.
Choso was all darkness and mystery. Somehow even in the brightest of rooms he could still find a shadow to hide in. He barely spoke, at least not to the other knights, the queen, or the maids. His quiet and stoic demeanor was off putting for some, the nuns who lived in the palace had their fair share of conspiracies on him. They didn’t understand him, they didn’t know him. Not like you did.
You knew that underneath all that armor was a man like no other. Ivory skin decorated with scars, moles placed delicately on different parts of his body. Soft skin stretched taunt over his muscles, dark brown eyes and even darker brown hair. A tattoo sat across the bridge of his nose, one of many that knights in this kingdom usually get. He received it when he was young after he jumped the ranks during his first war. It was a sign of strength, obedience, and loyalty. A single mole sat underneath his left eye, another just below his bottom lip. His beauty was something to marvel at, you question why he wasn’t born a prince.
You knew Choso unlike the others. You knew his smile, his laugh. How when he would smile too big his sharp canines would show from underneath his top lip. You knew what his skin felt like, what his hands felt like. Often calloused from training. You knew his touch, the way he’s so gentle when he grabs you. You knew what he sounded like when you two were alone, what he smelled of. His scent, like the forest. Cypress, pine, damp soil and moss. And that faint hint of blood that clung to him like a second skin. You loved it, loved him. You love the way he lights up when he sees you, the way he always watches you no matter where you go.
You love the way he fucks you. Those late nights with his head buried between your thighs, drinking you up like you were something holy. What a sin it was, to partake in such an act when you’re unwed. With your knight no less. Surely you’d be punished if someone were to find out.
But theres only so much love you could give him. A forbidden subject with a knight and a princess. Your differences in status is what kept you apart, kept you away. You are a princess who’s supposed to marry a prince in some far away land. He is a knight who’s only duty is to obey and protect. It couldn’t be more forbidden, but that doesn’t stop you from indulging.
Your handmaiden knew about you two, she was the only one who knew. Many of the nobles were clueless as to why he spent so much time inside your room then outside, some assumed it was simply because you asked him to keep you company. After all, princesses do tend to get lonely.
She knew what you two do behind closed doors, the stone walls aren’t completely soundproof. She usually says nothing, just simple remarks here and there, sometimes she will try to get you to recite a prayer or confess a sin. Almost as if she’s waiting for you to admit it, but what is there to admit to someone who already knows?
“The fruit was never an apple,” She had said to you one night. She had pins in her mouth as she fitted a new dress on your figure. You froze, eyeing her as she walked around you. “Tell me, what do you think the fruit was, princess?”
“Temptation,” you spoke slowly, swallowing down the dryness in your throat,”indulgences like greed….gluttony.”
“Could be,” she hummed, tapping her chin,”many think the reason Adam and Eve were punished was because of Eve’s disobedience, but we know that it was Satan who tempted her to eat the fruit.”
“What do you think the fruit was?” You watched her as she stuck another pin into the dress. Then she steps back, looks you up and down, and meets eyes with you again.
“I think he tempted her with lust,” she answered simply,”the strongest and most addicting of the indulgences, wouldn’t you say?”
“I…suppose I would,” you had responded, letting her carefully undress you so she could work on the dress. You slip back into your original garments, staring after her as she folds the pinned dress over her arm. She walks to the door then pauses.
“Duty over desire, princess,” she turned her head to look at you,”remember that.”
Duty over desire, duty over love, duty over it all. You really did hate when she would say that. You serve your kingdom and listen to the queen, that’s what your role was. There really were few things you hated about being a princess, that was one of them. But what you really hated made you more similar to Eve than you think.
You were expected to be obedient to the queen, to your future husband, to the rules of the royal court, to the Bible thats spine was bound to your own. To your people. You didn’t come from a place where obedience was valued so highly. Here in the palace, it’s the most important trait you could have. If you disobey the queen, you’re punished, if you disobey the royal court, you’re punished. The noblemen, the nuns. You always thought princesses had more power than what stories made it seem, but it appears you were wrong.
And it’s not that you thirsted for power. What you truly wanted was equality. You viewed everyone as your equal and the Queen hated that. Telling you to stop being so soft with the maids, it’s their job to get told what to do, its their job to be obedient. You would argue that some jobs they do you can do perfectly fine yourself.
Do it yourself. The three words the queen hated to hear out of your mouth. A princess should never have to do anything herself, but a princess should always be obedient, thats the rules of the royal court. It was so confusing, you started to think theres a reason you weren’t born a princess.
Your public image took years to perfect and it took many years after that to convince Choso that he doesn’t have to obey you like he does the queen. But he was so painfully obedient. You know thats what he was raised to be, obedient and loyal. You have argued with him countless times that he doesn’t need to listen to your every command. But over time, you discovered something about him.
In a way that many don’t get to see. What you think the real truth is, he loves to be obedient to you only. He loves to listen to you, loves to be loyal, to do whatever you want him to do. He’s set his boundaries, the few that there are, told you what he likes and doesn’t like. And you never thought a man as composed on the outside as him, would buckle and keen to a simple command from a woman like you.
Misogyny is etched deep into your bones, it’s evident even in the palace. The noblemen like to make comments towards you, boss you around, tell you that you need to listen to them. Just because you’re the princess doesn’t mean anything, after all they’re older than you. Shouldn’t you listen to your elders? They should be allowed to make those comments, allowed to touch you, to speak to you like you’re some common whore.
You see this behavior even with the queen, whose husband was long gone and now she had no one to marry. And yet, with all this power she has over the kingdom, the men still tell her what to do. She doesn’t punish them for their comments towards you, for their actions. You think if one of them really did lay you to bed she would blame you and not the man. Oh, what a generous queen she is, what a generous queen you thought she was.
So naturally, when you asked Choso to lick the juice of a pomegranate off your fingers, you expected him to protest. Instead he kneeled in front of you, ridded himself of his metal gauntlets, grabbed your hand and slowly licked the juice from your fingers. And suddenly, you think you understood why obedience was so highly valued with these people.
What started out as a little joke turned into something else, something so intimate. You tested him that night. Telling him if he wanted to be between your legs then he had to use his words instead of looking at you like a hungry dog. Maybe the only time he ever protests, but soon enough he gives in, voice coming out shaky and whiny.
“Please let me make love to you,” he breathes, hands holding your legs as you sit on the edge of the bed,”I-I promise I’ll be good, I’ll be so good.”
As if the act wasn’t sinful enough, it was around that time of the month where you were bleeding, a thing many people call a woman’s divine punishment. All because Eve ate that sweet, sweet apple. And yet, the blood didn’t stop him from burying his face between your thighs and lapping at your cunt like a man starved.
You thought you saw God, thought you had somehow made your way into heaven. The ecstasy you felt was like nothing before, you’ve never experienced anything quite like this despite the millions of times he’s been between your thighs. There was something new in the way he licked your cunt, something deeper than just lust. His nails left crescent shaped marks on your thighs, his fingers bruising your skin from his rough grip.
It was ironic, how much this looked like worship. How he chanted your name into your sopping pussy like it was a prayer. Like he was begging for you, his savior, to let him into the pearly gates of heaven. And you couldn’t help but give him what he wanted.
Praises fall from your spit-slicked lips, telling him he’s doing good, that he’s such a good boy, to keep going, to get his fill. He pulled two intense orgasms out of you before he even buried his cock inside of you.
Maybe you get the obedience thing now, but theres one thing you won’t ever forget, duty does not come before love.
You remember the day the queen told you that you were to be wed.
It started out unsurprisingly bleak, the sky was an overcast outside, heavy clouds threatening to drop pounds of snow down onto the already white earth. You were able to drag yourself out of bed before your handmaiden came bursting through the door.
As you made your way to the great hall, your handmaiden kept pace beside you as she read off the list of things you had to do that day. Council after breakfast, dressage, and accompanying the queen as the townspeople, in her words, complain. In your words, ask for favors or share grievances.
Choso was nowhere to be seen that morning, likely out doing his knightly duties. He often visited the town to check in on the crime status, see if anyone is worth throwing in the dungeon. Though he often came back empty handed or smeared with dried blood. Sometimes it takes days for him to return, but you manage.
The queen was seated at the table once you walked in, a plate of food already sitting in front of her. You greeted her with a bow before you took your own seat across from her. A empty plate sat in front of you, which was quickly picked up by the nearest maid so you could point to what you want to eat.
An assortment of fruits, a slice of bread, and chopped pieces of roasted boar. It was enough to keep you full until your next meal. You begun to eat, enjoying your meal in silence until the queen cleared her throat. You glanced up at her mid bite of your bread.
“The council is ecstatic today,” she said, pushing around the food on her plate.
“Really?” You questioned, continuing to eat despite her glare as you spoke with your mouth full,”and what is it that they are so excited about?”
“You, dear,” she hummed, stabbing a piece of roasted boar with her fork, she brings it up to study it. Her eyes narrowed, nose scrunched.
Your relationship with the queen has been a mess since the past few years. You’re not sure when it happened, the shift in your relationship became sudden. She’s not entirely fond of your occassional disobedient behavior, but you could care less. She treats Choso like a dog and acts so disgustingly entitled it makes you sick. She knows how much you like him, so she makes it her goal to torment him just to get a rise out of you.
“What about me has them so excited?” You asked when she didn’t say anything.
“That you are to be wed in a weeks time.”
You remember so clearly how your stomach dropped, how you thought your heart stopped beating and how time itself seemed to pause. When you met eyes with her, she was grinning wickedly, her smile lines creasing. You laid your fork back on the plate before speaking.
It was all you could get out.
“To the prince of the Zenin kingdom, of course,” she continued, taking a large bite of her roasted boar. You watched her chew agonizingly slow before swallowing. “We’re throwing a festival next week and his family will be attending, or did it slip from your little mind?”
“I did not forget,” you kept your expression content, trying to show her that you weren’t upset, more so knowing. You knew why she was doing this. Anything to torment you and your knight. “I know you were to wed me soon but I didn’t expect it to be this soon.”
“He’s quite handsome,” she ignores your comment, moving on to ramble about the prince, making sure to emphasize that you and him were equal rank. It’s moments like those where you think she knows what goes on behind closed doors, but you think she’s too dense to really know. That is, unless your handmaiden had slipped in a few words but you doubted it.
Your day after that was a blur. You couldn’t focus during the council, couldn’t focus during your dressage lesson. The only thing that pulled you out of your own head was the sobs of the townspeople who desperately needed help. A starving kingdom, and the queen was more worried about drinking wine and antagonizing her only princess. Though that day, there was one particular woman who stood out to you.
She had long, silky black hair, kind eyes, and light brown skin. Her face tinted red as she spoke and her hands tense behind her back, she was holding something you couldn’t see. What interested you is that she was paying tribute, not to the queen, not to you, but to Choso who wasn’t even here to witness it.
“He saved my mother from a nightwalker a fortnight ago,” she said shyly, shifting on her feet,”I was able to scrap together enough coins to buy him—buy him these.”
And from behind her back she pulled flowers. Orchids, your favorite. So red that they looked like rubies. The color represented many things, love being the most famous. They hate cold weather, you assume she must’ve gotten them from a trader in the warmer regions. What a journey that could’ve been. You could see the queen sneering from your peripherals. You couldn’t tell if this pleased her or made her throughly upset.
Even so, you assured the woman that you would get the orchids to him. If the queen would allow it, of course. After the woman left the queen looked at you, a glint in her eye you recognized all too well.
“Saved her mother, hm?” She spoke in a whisper to herself but it was loud enough for you to hear,”or did he meet her in a pleasure house? Who’s to say, she looks old enough to be a whore.”
So maybe she did know how much you loved him. Clearly she knew enough to make comments like those. Regardless, you still picked up the flowers before she could and brought them to your chambers where they would be safe.
And that night, after your bath, you slipped into your nightgown and walked back to your chambers. You didn’t expect Choso to be in there, sitting on your vanity stool and gliding his bare fingers over the delicate, red petals of the orchids that sat on your vanity. When he heard you he immediately stood to attention, like he was raised to do.
“You like them?” You gave him that beckon of your hand that told him to rest,”a woman brought them by today, said you saved her mother from a nightwalker. She wanted to pay a tribute.”
“They remind me of you,” is all he said, his eyes following you as you walked over to your bed. You could feel the weight of his gaze as his chocolate eyes swept over the exposed skin of your shoulders and thighs. His words made your skin burn.
“Do they?” You hummed, ignoring that sting in your chest as your mind wandered to your earlier discussion with the queen.
“They do,” he said as he watched you sit on the edge of your bed. He walks over to you and slowly drops to his knees. You cup his face with one hand, and he melts into your palm like he belonged there.
“Why is that?” You asked.
“Because beauty can thrive in the most unexpected places.”
You laughed at his corniness, he didn’t seem to find it as funny as you did, that was obvious in the slight pout to his bottom lip. You let him share your bed that night. Stripping him of that metal armor so he could feel you skin to skin underneath the warmth of black wool. He traced patterns on your arm, buried his face in your neck.
As the night went on your mind kept racing. He ended up resting his head on your stomach, your night gown lifted up so he could continue to trace patterns on your skin. He stared at the way your skin caved under the soft drag of his fingertips.
“I’m to be wed in a week,” you blurted suddenly, staring forward at yourself in the vanity mirror across your bed. You felt his head lift, his eyes finding yours.
“Are you….excited?” He asked, and he asked it in a way that was full of uncertainty, full of worry. You sighed, prompting him to sit up. The blanket slips from his body as he moved.
“No,” you huffed, staring down at your ringless hands,”of course not. Being wed means we cant do this anymore. I don’t want to lose that yet.”
“You don’t have to,” he assured you, or at least tried to,”I can come with you with to the Zenin kingdom, then we can still be together.”
“Please,” you scoffed,”like the queen would allow that.”
Theres a beat of silence. He stares at your face, you avoid his gaze. He was searching you, almost as if he was waiting for you to say something. When the silence drags on he finally speaks.
“Princess, I swore an oath after I found you on that trail,” he grabbed your hand, and brought it up to his lips,”nothing will make me break that oath. Not the queen, not the prince, and not even God himself.”
You’re starting to think that maybe Eve ate the apple because she was in love. Maybe she was in a similar position as you. Where God is your queen and you, the princess, are Eve. All you could do was stare at him as he kissed the finger where the ring will sit. But you could see through him, he too was just as worried as you were. Even a knight like him knew that duty came first.
Duty over love. God, you hated those three words with a passion.
At least thats what you think the morning of the festival. Your back pressed against his bare, toned torso. Head resting back on his shoulder as his tongue explored the blank canvas of your neck. One large hand was placed just below your breasts, holding you with such a strong grip. The other parted your folds as he slid his throbbing cock between them. Even in this position it amazes you how he can hold you with such ease, like you were nothing but a piece of fruit.
His hips move in slow, upward motions, making sure his swollen tip kisses your sensitive clit. You can feel the happy smile on his pouty lips as he sucks at your neck, saliva clinging to you like syrup. Soft whimpers and rambles spill from his lips. You coo at him softly, praises and encouragements to keep going.
You think she’s not a fool for enjoying such an act, for committing such a sin.
It wasn’t adultery yet, not if that ring hasn’t touched your finger. It wasn’t as big of a sin. Premarital, still bad but it still felt so good. You could never get over how he handled you like petals of a delicate flower. How you think his hands leave carvings in your skin that last, carvings to always remind you, he’s yours. No queen, noble, or prince could take that away from you. What a tainted, corrupted body you had. But no one could corrupt it quite like him.
It’s like worship, the way he treats your body. Worship you feel so deeply in your soul, you don’t even need to get on your knees.
And when his ivory cum paints your thighs and stomach, when his moans echo in your ears like a cathedral, you understand Eve even more. You try to swallow down the bad taste in your mouth as you bathe in the after glow, the bad taste of this possibly being your last time with him skin to skin like this.
The festival is supposed to last a week. A week too long. By the time the prince arrives your bathed and dressed, you wear something that covers the bite mark he left on your shoulder when he reached his climax that morning. Then it’s a two hour long carriage ride to the festival grounds deep in the forest.
It reeked of men, sweat, and manure. The kind of smell that made your nose scrunch. The stench was covered by the smoke of roasting meat, boars and rabbits turning over fires. Seven days of this and never ending dancing and music. Seven days of sharing a tent with yourself and sleeping on the cold ground which left you sore and bruised at the end of these festivals. Its been years since you’ve ever done such a thing, your now adult body wasn’t that used it.
Prince Noaya was everything the queen made him out to be, at first at least. Tall, charming in the face, his skin slightly tanned from the warmer environment he lived in. Piercings in only one ear, which you thought was odd. However there was something about his smile that made your stomach churn. He had sharp canines, much like your beloved, but they were longer, sharper, and dangerous. His hair was a shade of blonde you’ve never seen before, almost like an unnatural green. He didn’t kneel to you like any other prince would, didn’t kiss your hand and sweep you off your feet. No, instead he looked you up and down and scoffed, like he had made some sort of decision in his head right then and there. That’s when your expectations shattered.
The rest of that first day was spent with the early festivities. Feasting, drinking, entertainment, and dancing. You sat at that long table for what felt like hours, enduring the comments from both Noaya and the queen. You did realize something about the prince, he didn’t even pay respect to the queen. Not a single bow, not a single ‘your majesty’, just a scrutinizing look and a snort. You know how his kingdom is, the rumors about how they treat their women. As you sit there and think about it, your disgust becomes obvious on your face.
You had six other days of this, six other days of the same, tiring thing. Noaya didn’t charm you like the queen said he would, you found him rather annoying after the first few hours of being around him. He danced poorly and handled you with hidden disgust. He didn’t see you as his bride, you recognized that after your third dance. You were nothing important to him, merely an object to use to get what he wants. Not that you really cared, because you knew you were important to somebody. Choso, who stood by the table where the queen sat, his helm concealing his face. Even then, you could still feel the weight of his gaze as you moved throughout the crowd. He’s always staring at you, even when you think he isn’t.
You spent that night in your tent, unable to keep your mind from wandering. Choso was standing outside, keeping watch like the loyal knight he is. You’d try to sneak him in but nobles were still bustling about outside and the other knights guarding the other tents would surely see. Although they never say anything when they see, but you always play it safe just in case. Even so, your mind still ventured, still explored the what if’s. And soon enough you found your fingers slipping underneath your silk nightgown and caressing your aching clit.
You thought about the earlier morning, the dull glow of snowy light on his skin. The sounds he made, the little pleas, the begging. Your other hand squeezes your breasts like he would, thumbs at your nipples like he would. Soft murmurs of his name spill out of your mouth as you chase your orgasm. And even if he’s not with you, you still tell him how good he’s doing.
Because you know he can hear you. He can hear you over the other voices outside, over the crackling fire. You see him shift on his feet in the shadow of the fire, see him turn his head to the side just to hear you better. The next morning you smile at him as you exit your tent, and he, whose face you couldn’t see, smiles back. You’re prepared for the second day of the festival, just one more day closer to the end. You’re prepared for mingling with the crowd, for dancing with the men, and for the drunkards who stumble into you on their way to their tents.
You aren’t prepared for the berating that comes from the prince’s filthy mouth.
You try to make it seem like you’re interested, to make it appear that way in front of the queen, in front of your neighboring kingdom. But you can’t help the disgusted look that finds your face when Noaya constantly tells you to walk behind him when you two are headed somewhere. He tells you that you dance like an injured horse attempting dressage, that your dress is unflattering on you, that your hair looks a mess.
“You look nothing like a princess,” he states. Truly his audacity blows you away.
And that night, while your dancing in front of the fire just for the queen’s pleasure. He turns you around, your back exposed to him. You feel his eyes before you feel his touch. His thumb wipes off the makeup that you used to try and cover the mark. His fingertips graze over the indentions of Choso’s teeth and you flinch away like he was made of fire.
“Something to hide?” He grabs you by the arm before you can slip away.
“A nightwalker,” you try to lie,”its a scar from when I was young.”
“A scar? That’s swollen like that?” He grins, flashing you all of his perfect, pearly white teeth. “Or is the perfect princess committing a sin?”
Day three comes. The queen had announced a hunt to take place. The best of the men would seek out a stag, his antlers as tall as the great fir trees. It was a contest that would take the rest of the festival. There was a reward that came with it, however the queen kept it a secret to try and encourage the men more. Noaya and a few of his men prepared for the hunt as many of the other men did too. Your job was to wish them luck, give them your blessing, and then stay back while they hunt.
But, being yourself, you refused in secret.
You left on a mare, tucking a dagger under your dress as you rode into the forest. You know they’d come searching for you, if the queen even noticed. You’d come back before the others did, make up an excuse that you went out for a ride and got lost. Though with Choso riding next to you, you doubt they’d believe that. He knew these forests like the back of his hand, all the knights did.
So you spend the third night in the wilderness with him.
Time seems to fly when you’re with him. He makes things bearable, fun, and warm. Though his skin is as cold as ice, and you could never hear his beating heart when he lay beside you, he still brought a kind of warmth no one could give you. As you two ride a little further into the trees, you notice how tired he looks. His hands shaking as they clutch the reins, the bags under his eyes are more obvious. He moved with a lethargic pace as the day went on.
When you two finally set up a small campfire, night has fallen. Choso tends to the fire while you chew languidly on some jerky that you snatched from the feasting table. His hair is tied back in a low ponytail, strands fall in his face as he pokes the fire with a stick. The warm light illuminates his features better, you could see just how tired he looks. You hold out a piece of jerky to him, he looks up.
“No thank you, princess,” he hums, brown eyes falling back to the fire.
“You look terrible,” you state softly, bringing the jerky back. You rip off a bite sized piece and pop it into your mouth. “I haven’t seen you eat anything since the festival started.”
“I’ve eaten,” he assures you, but you don’t believe him.
“Then at least get some rest, I can stay up tonight,” you offer with a subtle tilt to your head.
“I appreciate your concern but I think it’s best if you don’t,” he stands from the fire, moving to make sure the horses are tied tight to the post. You stare at the back of his head for a moment.
You find yourself grabbing a handful of snow, manipulating it into a ball in your hands. You strike him in the back of his head almost perfectly. His shoulders jump and slowly he turns his head to look at you. You look away quickly, pretending like you didn’t do anything. Something cold hits you only seconds later, the snow exploding all over your face. You whip your head to look at him.
“You struck me first,” he says with a simple shrug of his shoulders, but you could see the smirk on his lips.
“You just struck a princess,” you gasp with exaggeration, your hand flying to your heart as if you were offended,”that is a punishable crime, sir.”
“Yes but that princess struck me first,” he repeats, walking over to you slowly, teeth flashing as he smiles more. Now he doesn’t look so tired.
“Doesn’t matter,” you turn away from him dramatically,”the royal law states any attack on the princess is punishable by death. I’ll have to have you executed as soon as we get back to the palace.”
He chuckles, a sound only you get to hear. He kneels down beside you, unclipping his metal gauntlet before dusting the snow off that was still stuck to your face. “The queen would be pleased.”
“Oh stop,” you roll your eyes at him with a laugh,”she’d probably applaud me for coming to my senses.”
He looks at you so fondly that you almost forget whats happening in two days. All you wanted to focus on in this moment was him, not Noaya, not the wedding, not the queen, not anything. Just him. A rustle in the bushes drags your attention away from each other. He doesn’t waste a second to draw his sword, standing to his feet and positioning himself in front of you.
You stare from behind his legs, eyeing the bushes as they move. A baby boar suddenly bursts through the bushes, snorting dazedly. You blink at the animal, Choso lowers his sword to the ground. The piglet snorts again, looking between you and your knight. You grin a little at the sight, scooting forward to get a closer look—
Your back suddenly hits the ground with a loud thump, the weight of a snarling animal settles on top of you. You yelp, hands flying up to protect your neck. Your hands find the maw of a large boar, his mouth snapping at you as if it was trying to bite your head clean off.
Choso is quick to react, driving his sword through the older boars throat. Blood splatters onto your face and neck, you clamp your eyes shut to avoid getting the liquid in your eyes. When the boar stills, he pulls the sword out of its throat. More blood pours from the wound before the beast is shoved off of you.
“Princess!” his arms quickly wrap around you, lifting you up so he could make sure you were alright,”are you okay?”
“I-I’m fine,” you gasp out, trying to catch your breath. You bring your hand up to feel your heart pounding through your ribcage, trying to calm yourself. The piglet was gone, you assumed it had run off squealing in the chaos.
You pull your hand away from your chest, staring down at your now stained skin. Blood soaked into the fabric of your dress, making it cling stickily to your collarbones. You could feel the warmth of it, stuck to you like honey. The taste like iron, you spit whatever got in your mouth.
“We should head back, yeah?” He offers, pulling you up to your feet.
It’s snowing when you arrive back at the festival grounds. Many of the men had either made it back last night or earlier this morning, the tracks still fresh on the trails. Just as you arrived people were starting to pack up, as this was the last day until the wedding.
You marched your horse through the festival, covered in dried blood, looking like such a mess. Improper, disobedient. The once calm and shy princess now bled with so much confidence it made everyone turn and stare. You dismounted your horse, Choso followed after you in motion. He grabs the reins of both horses and leads them to the posts off to the side.
You walk through the middle of the festival, keeping your head high and your posture perfect, just like a princess should. Sitting at the large table a few feet in front of you was the queen, next to her was Noaya, and next to him was what you assumed to be his equerry. All three of them looked at you with such disgusted expressions, but Noaya’s held more curiosity. His face was fitted in a glare, though you could tell his lips were just barely trying to curl up into a grin.
“Your majesty,” you bow your head at the queen before walking past the table to slip inside your tent. The look on her face brought you much joy, the feeling of it warming your chest.
The ride in the carriage back to the palace was mostly silence. Your handmaiden was desperately trying to rub off some of the dried blood with a cloth from her pocket, however she was only smearing the blood on your face more. You kept thick eye contact with the queen who sat in front of you, her delicate hands placed folded on her lap. She looked furious and it almost made you smile.
“Do you wish to humiliate me, girl?” She asks sharply, her brows creasing in the middle.
“No, your majesty,” you respond with a little nod of your head.
“You look like a whore,” she spat, her face now changing into an angered expression,”I saved your life. You should thank me for the life I gave you instead of parading yourself around like this covered in blood. Instead of running off with your knight for days to avoid your duty.”
“I wanted to join the hunting party,” you hum, unblinking at her,”do you wish I don’t involve myself in the festivities? This is my wedding after all.”
“I know you didn’t kill that boar,” she snarls, narrowing her eyes at you,”so your excuse is shit. Hunting is not a womanly thing to do. You are a princess, not a man.”
Your carriage arrives at the palace before you could say more.
Your handmaiden runs you a bath as soon as you get inside, she scrubs the blood off your skin, the dirt caked under your nails. She makes sure your in the bath for hours, desperate to get the stench of outside off you. You had another dance tonight, one more feast, and then it would be all over in the morning. You’ll be wed by the end of tomorrow, and more than likely, you won’t see this palace again for a few years. You won’t see him again.
You swallow down the dryness in your throat as your handmaiden fits you into a dress, making sure it’s snug in all the right places. It’s uncomfortable, but most dresses are. Perhaps they’ll have finer material in the Zenin kingdom. Wishful thinking, maybe. She places your fragrance on your neck and behind your ears, your wrists then your bare shoulders.
“Hopefully this will fix your mistake from earlier,” she huffs, stepping back to observe you,”what were you thinking, girl?”
“I was thinking I don’t want to be forced into an arranged marriage with a egotistical man,” you could be honest with her, you liked that about your relationship,”thats what I was thinking.”
“Duty over love, princess,” she reminds you, leading you off the platform and towards the doors. You really do hate those words.
The ballroom is already exploding with music, bodies pressed upon bodies, voices muffled by food, and the smell of sweat and perfume. It was just like every other night this week. Upon arriving you realized Noaya was no where to be seen, you were curious if he was still getting ready. Regardless, you took the opportunity to finally dance without him, hooking arms with some younger noblemen who danced much better than him. The queen seemed to be drinking more every time you looked up at the table she was perched at.
You really messed her up, and you were proud of it. She only ever drinks like this when she’s upset or just incredibly peeved at something and needed a distraction. You can’t help but smile faintly. Maybe tonight, you’ll decide to let yourself have some fun for once.
The moon is high in the sky, shining through the large ballroom windows. It’s late, yet the party grows feverishly hyper. You’ve danced until your feet ached and your head throbbed, so at last you decided to call it quits. You search the doors for Choso, hoping that he would be up there to escort you back to your chambers like he always does, but to your disappointment, he’s not.
There is no way he’s out right now, this event was far too important for him to be leaving for any reason. As your sworn protector, during events like these he is always supposed to keep his eye on you. You remember with a slight pang of worry how he looked last night. Maybe he really was sick and went to get something from the nuns to hold him off until this festival ended. You try not to ponder on it as you make your way out the doors.
It’s eerily silent the further you get into the palace, perhaps because you were used to the constant noise this week, or maybe your fears from your younger days here were coming back. Or maybe it was the small amount of alcohol you consumed, you never really handled it well anyways. You lift your dress as you walk up the rounded steps towards the hall where your chambers sat.
It really is quiet, not like how it normally is. You listen closely as you walk past many doors, some of them belonging to nobles, others just random rooms. You pass by your handmaidens room that sat across from your own, the large open stairwell is what kept you two apart. You slow your steps, face scrunching into confusion. You could’ve sworn her door was open just a crack. You continue to walk until you reach your room. You look back across the stairs to her door.
To your surprise it was opened just a crack, and you could hear something moving inside, or…maybe it was breathing. The quiet sound carries through the empty hallway, echoing off the stone walls. You blink, immediately walking back over there to make sure everything was okay. The air coming out from the crack in the door was thick, warm and heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. Slowly, you push the door open and peek your head in.
“Are you alright?” You say before your eyes land on the messy sheets, the candles that seemed to be thrown on the floor, the scrunched up carpet and the fallen paintings. You search the room in fear until you spot the body on the floor. Your handmaiden lay with her limbs sprawled out, her eyes blank, mouth open in what seemed to be protest or a scream. You push into the room, walking up her body and kneeling.
Her throat was torn open, blood pooled around her head and shoulders. It stained her blouse, her long skirt. It was all too familiar of a sight, the images of your mauled parents flash into your mind. You choke on air, standing up and stepping back as you stare at her ruined body. Your eyes search around the room for the killer, the monster.
A voice rings through your ears. You look behind you, expecting him to be at the door. When you don't see him you look towards the side of the room, your sight obscured by a thick fireplace. A breeze flows into the room, assumably from the open balcony doors. The sound from earlier has paused, now you could hear what seemed to be quiet, wet breaths. With a shaky step, you walk towards the fireplace, peeking around the stone wall.
Choso is on the floor by the open balcony doors. His shirt is torn, blood stains his pale skin. His hair is down, sticking to his damp neck and back. He looks at you with wide, glassy eyes, lips parted as he takes shallow breaths, there's blood smeared around his mouth, dripping down his chin and his neck. Your hand instantly comes up to cover your mouth in shock.
The ragged breathing you heard a few moments ago wasn’t from him, but from the man underneath him. Noaya. Who lays there soaked with blood, visible lacerations torn through his once perfect suit. His throat was open, not sliced with a sword it looked like it had been ripped by teeth. He was still alive, somehow, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, his eyes blank.
“Princess,” Choso repeats, pushing himself off Noaya and stumbling towards you. You step back to avoid getting any blood on you.
“A-Are you hurt?” You ask, looking between his blood soaked mouth and Noaya’s open throat.
“No,” he breathes, falling to his knees in front of you like his legs couldn’t hold his weight,”but I need—I need…..”
“Okay,” you say slowly, looking around nervously,”okay, okay—hold on just—come, come here.”
You grab his forearm, he allows himself to be pulled up by you. You guide him out of the room, shutting the door behind you so no one would peek in. You lead him to your room, your hand sliding on his blood covered arm. It’s warm and sticky, and it would make you gag if you were queasy.
Once inside you shut the doors. You immediately turn to him, watching him pull his sodden shirt off. His torso is covered, so much blood leaked through the thin fabric of his linen. You grab his arm to study his skin. You move around him in a circle, feeling his skin for any wounds you couldn't see.
“We need to get you help,” you state, stopping in front of him. Your eyes scan his body. There's not a single mark on him that you can feel or see.
“Princess,” he says, his tone weary. His brows are furrowed with concern as he stares down at you, but his pupils are dilated. So large they almost take up all the chocolate color of his irises.
“Come on,” you rush, grabbing his arm again to tug on him. You’re almost dragged down when he falls, his knees hitting the cold floor, his shoulders haunched over. You turn around, confusion written all over your face as you hold his wrist. His shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths, you can hear the slight quiver to his breathing, almost like he was about to cry.
"I can't go, princess," he forces out, his voice is raw and shaky,"I-I can't."
“What?” you stare down at him,"Choso, what happened in there thats making you act like this?"
“N-Noaya,” he breathes,”he disappeared in the palace after we got back——I-I knew what he was but I couldn’t—I didn't—“
“What are you talking about?” you furrow your brows.
“I’m sorry about your handmaiden, princess,” he rushes, tone dripping with guilt,”I’m so sorry——it was either you or someone else, I couldn’t let it be you, I couldn’t.”
“Choso,” you raise your voice slightly,”you’re talking to fast—“
“By the time I got there he had already——had already killed her,” he shakes his head, keeping it down so he didn’t have to look at you,”I’m so sorry, princess, I’m so sorry.”
“Choso!” You step forward and shake his arm gently,”what are you talking about? What did Noaya do?”
“He’s a nightwalker,” he breathes out,”he’s a nightwalker and—and there’s something else.”
The imagine of Noaya's sharp canines flash into your head. You squint as the realization washes over you. You knew something was weird about him and the rest of his men. To think, he had planned on killing you. It’s starting to make sense now.
“I knew it,” you mutter, eyes widening,”I knew something was off about him—“
“The nightwalker who killed your parents,” he cuts you off suddenly,”h-he was a Zenin and he was starved purposely and sent here to—to kill the queen.”
“But because he was so hungry he was blinded and sought out the first thing he could…which was you,” you watch him tense as he recounts the day he found you,”and I’m afraid….I'm afraid what’s to become of me if I don’t—”
You raise a brow at him, waiting for him to go on. When he doesn’t you shake his arm again to encourage him.
“If you don’t what?” You ask, tilting your head.
“If I don’t eat something right now,” he gasps, body tensing as if it pained him to say it.
Your heart drops, realization washes over your warm body. You drop his arm and step back, blinking down at him once you grasp what he’s saying.
“I was gonna tell you eventually, princess,” he rushes, still avoiding your eyes,”but I couldn’t, I-I didn’t want you to be scared of me—“
“You’ve been lying to me,” you step back further from him,”you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”
“I’m sorry,” he says,”I couldn’t tell you because I was scared, princess. You—you have to understand—“
A million things run through your head, a million questions, a million answers. The pieces of the puzzle finally started to connect. It explains so much. His fucked up sleeping schedule, how you rarely see him eat full meals, how you can never hear is heart beat, how he always feels so cold.
His abnormally sharp canines you only see when he smiles.
You stare down at him, watching his body shake with quiet, raspy breaths. You notice little puddles of clear liquid below him. He’s drooling. And for some reason the sight makes that familiar heat blossom in your chest and stomach, your fear adding onto it. You look between him and the door, chewing on your inner cheeks as you think.
Somebody will come looking for the prince and you’ll be one of the first they ask, probably. But what could you do? What could you say? You didn’t want Choso to be executed even after he just exposed himself to you. If they saw him like this they were sure to blame him.
“Is Noaya still alive?” You ask.
“Y-Yes,” he doesn’t look up at you,”he’s still alive just….slowly regenerating.”
“But his throat, it was—it was open.”
“I’m so hungry,” he says it in a way that makes your body tense,”I thought maybe his blood would hold me off but it didn’t. I needed something human so I—I—”
He cuts himself off, clearly unable to get the words out. “It’s okay,” you breathe after a few beats, you kneel in front of him,”it’s fine.”
You reach up to cup his face, making him look at you. He looks absolutely ruined, a mess of guilt and embarrassment and fear. Even after he lied to you all these years, your heart aches for him. But him being a nightwalker doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t change how you view him, how you feel about him.
They really are the reason you became royalty, you think.
You eye your vanity where you placed your dagger after you got back from the festival. It sat on the smooth wood, the metal handle flashing in the candle light. You swallow dryly, letting him drop his head before walking over to your vanity. You grab the dagger, and pull the blade out of its sheath.
You stare at the metal, turning the blade in the light. You’ve never used it before, it was given to you as a means to protect yourself. Not by the queen of course, she believed a princess shouldn’t carry a weapon. You pad back over to him.
He looks up upon hearing you approach him, glossy eyes finding you standing with the dagger in your hand. You look down at the blade before turning your wrist over and placing the cool metal against your wrist.
“W-Wait,” his eyes widen, and he reaches out hesitantly,”what are you—“
You drag the blade of the dagger over your wrist, slicing the skin and flesh deep enough that a steady flow of blood bubbles past the wound. You wince, watching as his hand immediately flies to his face, desperate to keep the scent of your blood out. You drop the dagger, walking closer to him with your wrist facing him.
He stands up quickly, backing up until his ankles hit the bed. You follow him over, grabbing his arm and gently pushing him back onto the mattress with a hand to his shoulder. You haul yourself onto his lap, straddling him gently to keep him in. He doesn’t push you off, he just keeps his hands away. One coming back up to cover his mouth, the other planted behind him on bed. His brows are pinched together in strain, his eyes now lidded.
“I didn’t cut myself just so you could watch me bleed,” your nose scrunches at him, eyes narrowing,”so drink.”
“I can’t,” he forces out, shaking his head,”I can’t—I can’t—“
“Why not?” You question, tone fighting to stay soft.
“Because I won’t be able to stop myself,” he admits, teary eyes looking away from you,”I—I don’t want to hurt you.”
You stare at him for a moment, deep in thought. You bring your wrist up to your lips, eyeing him as you lick and suck at your wound softly. He turns his head to look at you, eyes as wide as the moon. Your lips are smeared with your blood, your mouth full of it, and before he could even react you lean in and press your lips against his harshly.
And god, the way he melts into it. Unable to control himself as he kisses you back almost immediately, a needy moan slips into your mouth. His hand comes up to cradle your face, fixing his posture so he could kiss you better. His mouth opens against yours with a gasp, more of your blood spills onto his taste buds as your tongues meet. You feel all warm and light inside, partly blaming it on the throbbing pain in your wrist and the adrenaline coursing through your body.
He moans again, tongue feeling over yours to try and collect more of your blood. Every fiber in your being is just begging for it, calling for him like a siren’s song. You could feel his length through his trousers, hard and begging for attention already. With a gasp he forces himself to pull off your mouth, lips grazing over yours as he pulls his face back. You chase his lips, giving him a few more soft kisses before you pull back to see his face.
“What? What is it?” You breathe, titling your head at him,”you’re making that face again.”
His lips are smeared red, eyes watery and face flushed. You watch his pink tongue slip out past his lips, licking up your blood that stained them. He looks so pretty like this, so pretty and so perfect.
“Nothing I’m—” he mumbles, looking away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand,”I’m starving.”
A smile spreads across your face. You lean in, arms coming to rest around his neck, hands dangling behind his head. He grips your waist tightly.
“Cho, if you want more," your lips brush over his,"you'll have to ask for it."
“I want more,” he breathes, eyes searching yours in desperation,”please let me have more—“
“You’re hard as a rock right now,” you point out, shifting your hips on his. He whines, throwing his head back at the feeling. “I shouldn’t give you anything since you’ve been keeping a secret from me this whole time.”
“M’sorry, m’sorry,” he hums, burying his face into your neck,”m’sorry, princess, please, please, please.”
You think he's high off your blood right now, working like some mind numbing aphrodisiac. You've never seen him quite this frantic, this desperate.
“Are you going to be good?” You ask, raising a brow at him.
“Yes,” he murmurs,”anything you want, I’ll be so good.”
“Then no biting,” you reach behind your back, untying the lace of your dress. It loosens, falling down your frame. You ease out of it, lifting your hips and legs until you’re completely nude. “Not until I say so.”
“You’re so—so mean sometimes,” he cranes his neck so he could kiss you, but you pull back with a little smile. You run your hands down his chest that was still slick with blood. You bring your hand up to his mouth, pressing your fingers to his lips. He wraps his lips around two of them, sucking and licking the blood off your skin.
“Yeah,” you smile,”but you like it.”
He stares up at you with the most perfect doe eyes. You lift your hips so you could tug his trousers down, eyes never leaving his even when his cock springs free and hits you in the thigh. You rub your cunt against his tip, tantalizingly slow. He groans, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you. It always amazes you how broken you could get him.
You sink down on him slowly, pressing your wrist to his mouth as you do. He laps at your wound, licking up the blood thats still leaking. His brows knit together, sweat beads at his temple. When your hips meet his he moans, pausing for a moment before going back to lapping up your blood.
He’s deep, so deep you could feel him in your stomach, and he never fails to stretch you out so nicely. You place a hand on his slick, bloody shoulder as you grind, relishing in the way his tip nuzzles your soft spot. He holds your hips with a firm grip, helping you move against him.
“S-So wet,” he mutters, squeezing his glassy eyes shut. He’s been inside you plenty of times and yet he still seems to struggle keeping his composure.
“Fuck,” he looks away, licking the left over blood off his lips,”I’m so lucky, I didn’t know how much—how much longer I could control myself but—“
You wiggle your hips before lifting them, slowly dragging his cock out of you before pushing back down. The movement knocks the air out of his lungs and his blabbering cuts short for a moment.
“Hnnn—you—you let me drink your blood,” his brows kit together even tighter, teeth showing under his lip as he braces himself,”let me—haah—let me—mmm.”
He dips his head down, pressing his face against your chest before kissing at your collarbones, trying to chase them with every bounce of your hips. He drags his lips down to the swell of your breasts, kissing softly before nosing at your nipple. He wraps his lips around the sensitive bud, your breath hitches.
“Choso,” you warn, giving him a pointed look.
“Not biting,” his voice comes out muffled against your breast. You raise a brow at him, making sure to slam your hips down on him a little harder. He gasps at the sting of skin, mouth pulling off of your breast so he could rest his head on your chest.
“Oh—” he groans, drooling a mess all over your skin,”Oh—mmm—feels so good—feels—“
Your legs shake with every lift off his cock. Every time you feel him hit that spot deep inside you you bite back a shattered moan. He grips at your hips so tightly, blunt nails leaving scratches on your skin.
“U-Use me,” he whimpers out,”please—fuh-fuck me, f-fuck me—-haahh.”
“You keep talking like that—“ you huff, feeling that coil already start to form in your stomach,”and I’m gonna—gonna cum a lot sooner—“
“T-That’s okay,” he says, voice raising a pitch,”then I can—-mnn—I can do all the work, yeah?”
He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close until your torso touches his chest. Blood smears all over your skin, rubbing off from him and onto you. He drools as he licks up the valley of your breast. It’s disgusting, so much so you think even Satan would turn a blind eye.
“Mmm you’re doing so well,” you breathe, rolling your hips when they meet his,”doing so well.”
The pressure builds in your stomach, that coil stretches and bends. Warmth begins to blossom throughout your stomach as you start to reach your peak. He moans into your skin, licking at every available spot.
“Fuck,” you force out,”oh fuck—I’m gonna cum—“
“Please,” he whines, squeezing you so tightly,”give it to me—puhlease—please, please—“
You clamp down around him, dropping your hips one more time as you see blinding white. Your orgasm washes over you violently, energy surges through your body. You gasp, gripping onto his hair and pulling him in as you coat his cock with your release. You inhale shakily, squeaking when you’re suddenly lifted off his length.
You mourn the loss for a moment, but it’s mere seconds until your back hits the carpet on your stone floor and your legs are stretched wide by his large hands. You blink in surprise, yelping when he stretches you out again and sets a ruthless pace, giving you no time to come down from your orgasm. The air is knocked out of your lungs with every thrust, your hands fly up to grab onto him. He moans deep, the rawness in his voice giving him a stronger rasp.
“You’re so tight—fuck,” he plants his hands behind your head, fingers curling around your carpet and making it lift,”and so-so wet—haah—thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Choso,” you gasp out, arms wrapping around the back of his neck,”oh—t-too fast-“
You’ve never seen him like this before, so depraved, so hungry. He’s drooling a mess all over your bloodied chest and torso, eyes shut tightly in concentration.
“I’ve wanted this so--so bad,” he rasps, leaning down so he could lick at your neck,”but—nnn—but I was scared about hurting you and now—-ohh—now I don’t have to be scared I can—-can fuck you how I want—-fuck—“
He's a blabbering mess, his voice breaking on some syllables. He cuts himself off with soft whines and whimpers, hands tensing behind your head.
“I lived so long off of—of your s-sweet pussy, feeding me so well,” he whines, smiling faintly,”I think I was made for this, made to—to pleasure you like this.”
“I’m gonna cum ah-again,” you groan, spine arching off the floor. He hits your soft spot over and over again, you feel like you’re just seeing white and you can barely get a proper sound out anymore.
“Please do,” he gasps,”oh please, please, please—-“
Your second orgasm washes over you, but he still doesn’t let up. His hips drill into you relentlessly you feel like you’re going to split in half. Everything burns and aches. You turn your head away, arms dropping from his neck and laying out above your head.
“I do like it when you’re mean to me,” he goes back to your earlier comment,”b-but I can still fuck you like this and be—be your good boy, right? I can still be good—“
“Yeah—yes,” you babble, gasping at your oversensitivity. You can feel him pulsing inside you, strong throbs that indicate he’s gonna cum soon. "still my-my good boy--mnnh."
“Mmm I wanna cum—-I wanna—wanna cum,” he lifts his head, glossy eyes narrowing at the door,”hhnngg god I'm gonna cum—-I need to bite, can I bite you, hm? Please? Please let me bite you—-“
You nod frantically, keeping your head turned to the side so he had access to your neck. He dips his head down, lips brushing over your skin before his teeth slip past his lips. He doesn’t let up, thrusting into you as he sinks his teeth in, breaking skin.
You nearly scream at the searing pain that shoots through you. You're able to restrain yourself, letting out only a choked up sob and little whimpers. Your fingers curl into your palms, nails digging into the flesh there. His muffled moans sound downright sinful as he fucks you through his orgasm, biting so hard that you almost go numb as another agonizingly pleasureful orgasm washes over you.
He fills you, thrusting in deep as he cums. He laps at the bite mark, drinking up whatever blood spills out of you. His cum is cold, strangely enough. You feel it leak out around the edges of his base, dripping down to your ass. It sends a chill up your spine.
Slowly he lifts his head, hands still planted down by yours. Your blood mixed with his saliva drips from his mouth as he pants, slowly coming down from his intense orgasm. He lets his body rest against yours, keeping his softening cock inside you. Little whimpers and pants escape his mouth as his cock twitches, the after shocks coursing through him. He completely smothers you as he allows himself to relax but you don’t really mind.
He keeps his face buried in your neck as he collects himself, holding your face and tilting it to the side so he could lazily lap at the bite. You try to calm your breath, panting softly. Even this close you still couldn't feel his heartbeat, but now you didn't have to question it. After a moment he mutters something you almost didn’t hear.
“M’sorry,” he huffs, nuzzling your face.
“You’re fine,” you breathe, smiling softly. He lifts his head to look at you, eyes searching your face. Your neck throbs, your wrist throbs, everything throbs and aches. Your legs are shaking almost too dramatically for you're liking.
"I didn't think you had that in you," you chuckle breathlessly,"I should've expected it at some point."
"Was I too rough?" he tilts his head, looking as concerned as ever,"I can be gentle next time---I'm sorry I was just so...so hungry."
"Next time," you mutter, thoughts of tomorrow start to worm their way into your head. You frown as you think about it, looking away from him for a moment. "Cho...I don't know if there'll be a next time."
"I told you I'm coming with you, princess," he responds, moving his head so his face is in your line of sight,"I made an oath."
"I know but..." you trail off, eyes finding his,"Choso, if somebody finds Noaya--if he regenerates he's gonna tell everyone."
You watch face change, eyes shifting up to look towards the door. He's thinking, you can tell by the face he's making. He dips his head down to nuzzle his face into your neck, planting soft kisses before he speaks again.
"Let me handle it," he breathes into your skin,"but promise me you'll wear that dress and walk the aisle tomorrow."
You open your mouth, hesitating to answer. You didnt want to, didnt want to wear that dress, didnt want to walk the aisle. But you had no choice, and this time its him asking you. Not the queen, not the nobles, not even the prince.
Its cold in the great hall this morning.
You stood at the end of the aisle, waiting for your prince to walk through those doors. Noaya, being the oh so humble prince he is, had requested you to walk first because apparently thats how its done in his kingdom. No regard for your kingdoms customs, what a man.
You got ready mostly by yourself this morning, though you had help from some maids. They had asked where your handmaiden was, you simply told them you didn't know. You even checked her room early that morning. Her body had vanished and so had Noaya's, the balcony doors were still open but this time you saw drops of blood leading out onto the stone.
Your dress covered the large bite mark Choso had left on you the night before, but it doesn't conceal the throbbing pain you get from it every now and then. The queen eyes you from where she stands, giving you scrutinizing looks up and down. She's clearly stressed about something, maybe it was the fact that Noaya was taking far too long, or the fact that you didn't look perfect enough. No amount of makeup could hide your exhaustion.
Choso is gone. You have no idea where he went this morning. During weddings, he's supposed to stand off to the side of you. You looked for him briefly this morning, hoping that Noaya didn't somehow wake up and call for his execution in the night. Though you're sure you would have woken up.
You did what he asked you to do. Wore the dress, walked the aisle. And now you were stuck playing the waiting game, your heart pounding and palms sweating as you fear who's going to walk through those doors.
Something outside the large wooden doors stirs, metal hitting the ground, men's voices shouting in protest. You feel your stomach churn, eyes widening a little as you listen. Heads turn towards the doors, the queen looks both worried and upset at the same time. You watch her open her mouth to send the guards out there but she's interrupted.
The commotion outside suddenly stops and it goes silent. You stare at the doors, waiting for them to open, to reveal who was on the other side. You are frozen still, unable to move or peel your eyes away.
The doors creak suddenly, squeaking on the hinges as they are pushed open slowly. Everyone cranes their heads to see who it is, to see who was out there. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, you grow light headed, almost dizzy as anticipation and worry picks at your skin. The doors ease open, light pours into the doorway from the huge stained glass windows. You're breath hitches when you see him, people gasp and whisper to each other.
Choso stands there, dressed in nothing but a tunic and trousers stained with splatters of blood. His hair is down, swaying softly in the breeze of the opened doors.
And grasped in his left hand was the severed head of Noaya Zenin.
If it wasn't for @/v4mpyrf43 on tiktok this wouldn’t have been finished. Shout out to you girl!! I am reposting this since it was supposed to be scheduled for 12 am lol Thank you to everyone for reading and happy new years <3
