In the way his hand twitches when he physically restrains himself from reaching out to touch the soft skin of your arm as your dress flutters in the spring breeze.
-> Toji became your knight when you were twelve and he was freshly sixteen, his black hair cut by dull kitchen scissors that left uneven sections by his ears. He didn’t have his mouth scar then, right out of knight training and placed by your side as your guardian.
You were a shy thing when you met him, his armor clinking as he bent down while introducing himself, keeping his green eyes on the ground until he stood straight and met yours. He was tall, a little lanky and not quite built into himself just yet.
Oh, but he will.
It took a while for you to warm up to him. You were a quiet thing, leaving the noise and ruckus to your younger sisters as they ran through the halls and making the maids run after them. You kept to yourself, always having your nose in a book or a pencil in your hand.
You had princess duties after all. You were the eldest and had to be the role model for your sisters, even if you were only twelve and they were eight and six.
You never spoke unless spoken to, not because you were submissive, no—you had too many thoughts and you were much too smart, so you kept your mouth shut.
You doubted that your father would love it if you told him that you thought he was just plain stupid. Alas, your lips were sealed.
Toji never spoke and when he did, it was clipped and often in one-word answers. He may have been given by his noble family to the King, but he was not stupid either. Also, he liked watching you. Yes, it was his job as your knight, but he liked watching your eyebrows furrow as you read about theory or when you sit in on your father’s council and try not to make a face when he says something questionable.
You didn’t really speak to Toji. Just let him follow you to the library, out in the gardens, or on horseback. It wasn’t awkward. You were both just…aware of each other.
The first thing you ever spoke to him was to ask him to get a book for you on the top shelf.
The first thing he said to you was if you wanted to go for a ride on your favorite horse after you had a bad day.
He paid attention to you. Like, really close attention.
He watched you grow into yourself. Watched as you grew a little taller (still at least a whole head shorter than him), watched as your hair grew, watched as you lost the chub on your face.
You watched as he shot up like a bean sprout when he turned seventeen, watched when his shoulders broadened, watched when he came back from a week-long mission with a new scar in the corner of his lips. That was the only time he left your side. (Neither of you mentioned how you missed each other’s presence.)
When you were sixteen and he was twenty, you suddenly realized how attractive he was. His black hair was still shaggy but cleaned up a bit, with a light stubble on his jaw, and he was so wide. Wide as the doorframe to your chambers, that he must never dare to cross.
Yet, you still noticed it.
Noticed how he needed to slip through door frames sideways, noticed how he had to get new armor to fit his build, noticed just how big he was compared to you.
Granted, you weren’t small. Shorter than him, yes, but as you grew older, you filled out too. Curves in the right places, soft belly since you ate well as the King’s daughter, wide hips…You were pretty. Anyone could see that.
Toji knew. Toji knew that you were going to be a heartbreaker the day he met you, even if you were only a little girl.
When you were eighteen and he was twenty-two, he watched as you fell off your horse and he was never more terrified for his life. Not because he thought the King would have his head; he was worried about you.
You were fine, more worried about your horse as he scuffed up his knee and limped all the way back to the stables.
He tried not to fuss, immediately dismounting and leaving his horse grazing as he inspected you, fighting the urge to let his hands touch your waist. You were fine, a little shaken from the fall and your shoulder ached where you landed on it. You insisted that he check on your horse, which he only did because he knew you were nothing but stubborn as a mule.
The King never found out that you fell, you both kept it quiet as your maid iced your shoulder and Toji watched under his helmet intently, fists clenched and frustrated at himself for putting you in that situation, even when you both ride daily.
Now, you were twenty and he just turned twenty-four. You were comfortable with one another, well in tune to each other. No one knew, of course.
Toji was just your knight to them. But to you, he was your best friend. Someone who could get a book from the top shelf, stand behind your back at council meetings, and tell you that your perspective was wrong when you were drawing.
Now though, you were in your prime. An eligible woman, ready to be married off. And not just to anyone—you were still the eldest daughter of the King.
Rumors started the moment you turned twenty. Who were you going to marry? Gojo Satoru? Naoya Zenin? Someone from the Kamo clan?
You were the talk of the entire capital. And yet—you did not care. You continued to attend your classes, holing up in the library, and spending time in the stables with your childhood horse.
Oh, but Toji cared. He cared a lot. He listened to the other guards make sleazy comments, listened when the council men whispered to offer their sons to the King, listened when the ladies gossiped.
Toji knew. He knew when he turned twenty-four that he was in love with you.
And he knew that he couldn’t have you.
So he stands at your chamber door every night, guarding something that will never be his.
He keeps his hands to himself.
And he does what he’s always done.
He watches.
a/n: first real post omg. normally, i don't write drabbles but this has been simmering in the back of my mind for days. i wrote this instead of reading my archaeological theory papers. i hope you enjoy :)
Warnings: Sevika kidnaps reader, age gap (reader is 25 and Sevika is around her early 40s), reader is chaotic, enemies to lovers, mean Sev for a while, y’all threaten each other a lot and both have hit each other, Sevika kills someone, reader almost dies, another awkward fight scene, virgin reader, reader cums fast because that’s normal for a first time (so is taking a second), reader has blood on her when they have sex, praise, check-ups, reader gets eaten out, tribbing, I think that’s it LMAOOOO
Genre: fluff, angst, smut
A/N: im so excited for this fic and will be expanding on pirate Sevika!! They are so soft to me like I love them together!! Thank you all for your support I get so happy seeing you all and talking to you guys ʕ̡̢̡⌯͒•ɷ•⌯͒ʔ̢̡̢ this is long asf omg and I wasn’t gonna make it a series cause I can’t have another series rn lol
Translations- priya = darling, jaanu = my life
I researched that her name has Hindi, Sanskrit origins so I thought this would be a cute way to tie her culture in.
The imagine for this story
1, 2
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Tonight is the night you’ve been raised for, tonight you become queen. The day was going as planned. Flowers here, knights there, it was almost out of a fairytale. You knew this was too good to be true. You’ve been known for your intuition, it’s why your parents put you before your older sister. Whom holds no resentment towards you only a sadness that you couldn’t pursue your own dreams.
Since you were little you’ve adored the ocean, often thinking in another life you were a mermaid. Admiring the idea of protecting the ocean and it’s creatures somewhat like how you saw your mother care for her people. To swim as free as your sister rode. To sing an enchanting song to defeat enemies as your father cut others with his words.
You often reminisce on the idea and in your opinion it helps you be a better princess. Your thoughts were interrupted as your seamstress finish the last lace detail on you coronation dress. You step off the box to admire yourself stuck in utter awe.
Time passes as you wait behind that humongous door, the door that’ll start the new chapter in your 25 years. The love your family expressed to you unmistakable. As soon as you were alone you felt odd? Almost on edge…
You kept your eyes peeled, and shrugged it off as nerves. The thing about intuition is, it’ll work for you if you work with it.
Ignoring the churn in your stomach you walk as you hear the cue of the violins. As soon as the door opens, chaos is afoot!
Your eyes can’t focus on anything as you look for your family whom are nowhere to be found! Panic is settling into you as you try to create a plan. You see a discarded sword and pick it up awkwardly clutching it, you were always better with archery.
Running through the crowd not sure how to help or what to do your eyes settle on her.
She’s looks like she’d tower over you and hunt you down. You notice her scars and her mechanical arm. Her light smirk and her piercing gaze. It’s like the confusion in the crowd didn’t matter because she was steadily stalking towards you. You’ve heard of her before, she’s known for what she does and how she gets away with it.
Prey in a predators radar is exactly what you were, but you had a choice to fight or flee. You choose to flee as it’ll be you advantage. You know this castle and it doesn’t matter how many times they could’ve mapped it out this is your home.
Clutching the sword you run through the doors and into the hallway. Your main focus is making it to your crawl space which will take you to the gardens. As soon as you got close enough, the knob a fingertip away a sturdy hand grabs your waist and pushes you to the floor. Your sword drops as you try to brace your fall. Not ready to give in despite the pain in your body, you kick at her.
She laughs, how dare she mock you?
To make sure you stay still so her crew could make a swift escape she knocks you out with a cloth.
In almost an instance you went from queen to be, to hostage.
In a haze you wake up in a strange room, it looks to be a office with a makeshift bedroom area? You grip the sheets as you sit up eyes taking in the decor. Treasure here and there, maps neatly tucked away. Slowly you get up feeling that you are without your corset. Heat runs to your face but you push that aside as you look for a weapon.
Gathering courage you go out into the deck looking for her. That brute that took you from your home! The sun was blinding as and the smell of the sea was consuming but you saw her.
You storm up to her despite the laughs from her crew that quite when you dawn the knife you found.
Her express has yet to change from that smug satisfaction.
“Take me home, I demand it!” You yell pointing the knife at her face.
“Careful princess you might hurt yourself.” She laughs, oh what you’d give to rip that laugh out of her throat.
Before you could protest further she grabs then squeezes your wrist disarming you. You squirm as she slings you over her shoulder and makes her way back to her room.
Softly she places you on the bed and closes the door. “You’ll be staying in my quarters.” She states as she gives you space.
“Take me home!”
“I know you aren’t deaf.” She snorts
“You must be dumb because I refuse to stay on this ship!” With that she gets in your face, “you’ll mind how you talk to me.”
Anger rising in you, you spit on her square in her face.
Keeping her composure she steps back and wipes her face.
“I understand this isn’t ideal but you’ll get use to it.”
“Wow an understanding pirate how lucky am I!” You say with an eye roll.
“I took you because of your looks but you’ll stay because of that mouth.”
Being as bull headed as you are, you get off the bed and walk up to her.
“I will be going home with your permission or not!” You keep your voice steady and clear.
Swiftly she pushes you up against the nearest wall. Her breath ghosting your neck. Her thick fingers playing with the lace on the bust of your dress. “Don’t push me princess, you aren’t the first pretty thing I’ve thrown overboard.”
Fear churning in your stomach you whimper softly, pulling a wolf like grin out of her.
“You like that pretty thing? Being threatened is that what gets ya goin’.” Softly she tugs on your dress revealing more of your plush breast.
Your chest heaves as no one has seen you like this. “You are a degenerate.” You state avoiding eye contact. “Sometimes” she states as she moves her flesh hand to pull a stray coil. You swat at her hand and she moves, “get some rest you’ll need it for tomorrow princess.”
Defeated and highly flustered you lay in the bed and give your mind to your dreams.
Your nights use to end with you going to sleep alone and you waking up alone until one night. Sevika was charting at her desk and you were reading on the bed. When she assumed you were getting sleepy she packed up to leave but you broke the silence. “Stay…please.”
She gave you an expression you couldn’t read but she obliged. She puts her things down and lays next to you. “Trouble sleeping?”
“Before this I’ve never slept on a ship before…it’s different.”
“It’s not that bad once you get used to it.” She awkwardly slide her fingers into yours. Obvious she hasn’t done this before. You put your pride to the side and nuzzle into her. “I had a bear…I can’t sleep without her so…” with that she just squeezes you close, embracing you. Being able to relax you inhale until you drift off to sleep.
The next months were a blur as you roam the ship endlessly. You were peering out at sea when you smell her behind you. That strong scent of wood burned into your senses.
“What’s occupying your mind priya?” Her rough hand softly touching your shoulder.
Priya…you still don’t know what it means but it’s nice to hear, better than a condescending princess or pretty thing.
Over these last few months you’ve learn to tolerate her. You two still argue like there’s no tomorrow but you grew to worry when she would stress and you’d help keep order. You saw how she’d grow to worry when you couldn’t sleep or if you’d stare off too long, wanting this to be a home for you how this has been a home to her crew.
“I want to go home.” You sigh leaning forward, gripping the ledge.
“You are home.” Sevika states coldly, “ I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you?”
“Why being a hostage isn’t enough for me?”
“Hostages don’t get freedom or new clothes you choose to stay on the boat when we dock!”
“I refuse to be seen with you!” You shout turning to face her. The hurt in her eyes are evident but she pushes it down, “this is what I get for protecting a brat!”
“You aren’t protecting me at all! I told you I’m going home with or without you!”
“How would you suppose you’d get home princess?” She cocked her eyebrow and spoke with venom.
Irritated and wanting to prove your point you look around and it dawns on you, you are an amazing swimmer.
Without warning you hoist yourself over the ledge and fall into the ocean. The water was cool but not unbearable.
You sink down trying to gain cover with the bubbles of your submersion but it wouldn’t matter because Sevika jumped in after you.
Concerned more than angry she swims to you and with a rope and the help of the crew the two of you are retrieved!
“Are you out of your fucking mind y/n! Do you not understand how you could’ve hurt yourself pulling a stunt like that?” She shouts not giving you a chance to catch your breath. The crew was quite, it’s a big divide whenever you two argue, Ran typically getting in the middle of it.
“Why can’t you understand you took me from my home and I don’t feel safe with you!”
Angrily she grabs your face squeezing just enough to leave a sting. “So all the nights I hold you and talk to you doesn’t make you feel safe?” You claw at her biceps as you feel tears well in your eyes.
“That’s enough Sevika I think she understands she’s wrong.” Ran states stepping closer.
Sevika can feel her stomach churn because she made you cry. “There’s nothing to see here go back to your stations!” She yells as she pushes you into Ran then left to her quarters.
With that you walk away and go to your spot. You like to sit on the front of the ship with her right hand Ran. They are sweet to you surprisingly and keep you updated on your kingdom. You’ve been presumed dead and your family is devastated but they have to move on.
“I don’t understand why she keeps me here, I refuse to help.” You sniffle and wipe your face.
“You’re entertaining to her I suppose.” Ran says with a shrug, “I don’t question her anymore she wouldn’t give me a straight answer at least when it comes to you.”
“Why’d you guys raid my castle in the first place?” You turn to face them.
Ran’s shoulder tense slightly. “Not sure if I should tell you honestly.”
“You’re the only person I can talk to Ran please!” You grab their hand.
“We were raiding your kingdom because we heard of a King getting ready to kill his heir and we wanted to goods before the drama settled in.” They avoided your eyes feeling a slight shame.
Dread seeps into your heart as their words repeat in your head “ a King getting ready to kill his heir.”
“No I…he wouldn’t!” You stand abruptly, “he loves me!”
“He was raising you for slaughter! Who makes their second in line the monarch? Look I know this is hard but you ever wondered why your family never truly went looking for you? We’re a notorious group and-”
Without another word you were running to Sevika.
When you enter the bedroom you find her frustrated at the desk writing in her journal.
“How may I help you princess?” She mutters without even looking at you, “he was trying to kill me?” You whisper as your voice shakes.
Sevika looks up at you not sure how she wants to respond. She’s never been good with emotions whether it’s hers or someone else’s. Sevika had to grow up in a world where she was the only person who cared about her. That’s why it was so easy to make the seas her home.
Slowly she opened her arms to you and you run over to her lap. In disbelief you sob on her mechanical shoulder. “Why would he do that to me?” You ask in broken breaths.
Sevika could feel her heart in her throat unsure how to respond. When she was younger she imagined having friends and having to comfort them but she never got there with anyone besides Ran and Ran isn’t a crier. So she pulls you closer and lays her head on yours. “If you didnt take me…do you think that would’ve been the day?”
“Priya I don’t know much…but I do know you get headaches after you cry so stop crying please.” She whispers as she wipes your tears. You try to even your breathes but you can’t. So there you sit in your accidental saviors embrace.
Ever since that day you’ve been attached to her hip. This life isn’t what you’d imagined but it’s yours. You often think back and try to see what you missed but it’s no use.
“Sev, whats your favorite thing about being a pirate besides killing people?” You ask as you two walk around a market. You feel like a true swashbuckler with your floppy hat, flowy fabrics and the gun Sevika taught you how to use.
“Watching my crew enjoying themselves.” She bites into an apple then hands it to me, “you all deserve nice things and that’s better than bloodshed…I guess.”
“Big ole’ softy…” you nudge your shoulder into her as you bite the apple.
“Don’t get use to it.” She mutters and you were going to tease back till you saw an amulet.
“Jaanu look!” You point but she stops, “what did you call me?” Her voice unsteady. “Jaanu? Oh I…well you call me priya so I wanted to call you something sweet too…I don’t necessarily know what either means but I read it in one of your romance novels you like to hide.” You state this like it’s no big deal as you buy the golden amulet. Sevika can feel her face burning and her palms sweating. “Priya means darling and jaanu means my life.”
Stopping in the middle of a market is frowned upon as it slows the hustle and bustle of the environment but you could care less as you stare into her grey eyes. “Then here jaanu I want you to have this.”
You lean up on your tippy toes and clasp the amulet around her neck, “now you’ll always carry me with you.” With that you walk away to catch up with Ran but you look over your shoulder to see her lopsided smile.
You were too busy gushing to Ran about what happened that you weren’t watching your surroundings. You’re still getting use to being a pirate let alone an ex-royal. Technically people still want you dead so it was confusing when Ran tackles you!
Word got out about Sevika’s new lover and how she favors the beauty of a princess. There’s been more incidents at the docks lately but nothing this bold! Another crew mate covered you two as Ran and you prepared your guns.
Lost in the frenzy you got separated. You get a sense of deja-vú. A weapon in your hand you haven’t used on anyone before, fear churning in your stomach and your intuition screaming at you.
Sevika isn’t around to immediately safe you so you have to choose; fight or flight. You don’t need a repeat of what happened a year ago so you choose to gain cover and shoot.
Aim is sloppy but you hit enough people more to disarm them, not having the heart to kill anyone.
That’s when you feel a cold gun pressed to the back of your head. Panic is seeping into your body, what do you do in a situation like this? You aren’t savvy enough to fight them off.
You thought back to all the moments you made on the ship, how you just accepted this is your life. Now it’s getting taken away. You close your eyes thinking about how you wish to be in Sevika’s arms one more time, to tell her how you feel.
In an instance you hear a pop and you assume it was you but you feel a thick warm liquid flow down your shoulder. You look back and there she stood. Sevika always protecting you.
Quickly she rounded you and the crew up. “Are you hurt?” Sevika held your face, her grey eyes searching yours. Not wanting to waste another moment you kiss her.
You two fumble to your quarters, breathing heavily. She shakily takes your clothes off as she bites your neck. “Been wanting you for so long priya.”
“Take me then” you moan clawing at her clothes. Sevika pushes you down on the bed and pressed your thighs to your chest. Her thick tongue slowly licks and teases your cunt. “Jaanu please I want more” you mewl overwhelmed by the sensations.
“I’m going to take my time and you will listen. Now this might hurt for a second so breathe f’me.” She pushes one finger into you slowly and listens to your drawn out moan. “Feels good priya?”
“Fuck yes!” You moan as you bite your lip. Needing to do something with your hands you pull her hair. “Sevika more!”
“Can’t ever stop being a brat huh?” Always striving to make you happy she pushes another finger in. Her tongue wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly.
Broken moans is the only thing able to come from your throat as you cum into her mouth. “Are you okay, does anything hurt?”
“No, more please” you whine although this position is hurting your thighs.
Sevika gently placed her bare cunt against yours and rubs. The satisfaction of that small amount of friction got you wet. “Fuck you feel so good” she moans into your ear.
“You make me feel so good” you lick the outer shell of her pierced ear causing a shiver to go down her spine.
Your hips grind up against hers and you feel yourself already on edge so you both slow down. The drawn out strokes had you both twitching and moaning. The mixture of your juices staining the sheets when y’all came.
Sevika leans her forehead against yours and says, “promise to sail the seas with me forever?”
“I do.”
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A/n: this is the longest fic I ever wrote and bitch I don’t wanna do this shit again🥹 in all seriousness I wanted to push myself and I can see the moodboard already!! I hope you all enjoyed this and criticisms is welcomed!!
summary: The forest forgets no one. It simply waits.”
characters: knight! mattheo. princess! reader
warnings: none
word count: 1.1k
The castle walls had always felt too heavy.
They pressed in around you like stone hands-polished and proper, draped in silk and tradition. You were the youngest daughter of a crumbling line, tucked between tapestries and diplomatic smiles, spoken of like a bloom grown purely for decoration.
You were told not to stray far. You were told to stay clean, stay quiet, stay still.
But the forest called to you like a memory you had never made.
It began as it always did-your footsteps light on the gravel path as dawn stretched across the horizon, the pale pink glow of morning casting everything in a dream. The dew was still thick on the grass, catching the hem of your dress, turning you into something mythic as you crossed through the orchard and slipped through the secret gate carved into the stone wall.
Beyond it: a world untouched.
The forest didn’t care for crowns or titles. It bloomed in wild defiance-flowering where it pleased, sprawling in tangled glory. Soft moss cushioned your steps. Ferns brushed your legs like welcoming hands. And the light-oh, the light-it filtered through the canopy in long, golden beams, gentle and holy, like the sky had lowered its veil just for you.
You walked until the birdsong became louder than your thoughts. Until your heart stopped racing from the thrill of escape and settled into a quiet rhythm that matched the wind’s hush.
Here, the world was kinder. You could be something more-or something less-and it wouldn’t matter.
You found your favorite clearing: a secret glade tucked beneath a flowering tree, where the grass grew soft and unbroken. Petals drifted through the air like snow, catching on your shoulders, in your hair. A brook murmured nearby, glittering like a spilled necklace beneath the morning sun. You knelt beside it, brushing your fingers through the water-cool, clean, alive.
You didn’t hear him at first.
It was the stillness that gave him away.
The birds fell silent. The breeze paused, like the forest itself had drawn in a breath.
You rose slowly, instinct prickling at your spine. Turning, you saw movement beyond the veil of pink blossoms-something dark and slow and deliberate. A figure emerged from the shadows, half-silhouetted by light. His presence didn’t feel like danger. Not exactly. But it felt like something had shifted, like the story you thought you were living had turned a page without your knowing.
He stepped into the clearing.
A knight-clearly, unmistakably. But not in the ceremonial sense. His armor was worn, dull with travel, the blackened steel catching flecks of gold where the sun dared to touch it. A sword rested at his hip, its hilt wrapped in leather, well-used. His eyes-dark, piercin-swept the glade before landing on you. He didn’t reach for his weapon. He didn’t move at all.
You stared at each other across the wildflowers.
The silence stretched, weighted not with fear, but with something ancient. Like two threads finally meeting after being pulled through separate worlds.
And then-
“I didn’t expect to find anyone here,” you said, your voice barely above the hush of the leaves.
He didn’t answer at first-only watched you, as though trying to determine if you were real or some enchantment woven from mist and morning light. You felt the weight of his gaze, not harsh or hungry, but careful, like you were something sacred he dared not disturb.
His voice, when it came, was low and quiet, almost reluctant to break the spell.
“Neither did I.”
You let the silence settle again, thick with unspoken questions. He took a step forward, slow and measured, the petals at his feet parting for him as though the forest had given him permission to walk there.
“I thought I was alone,” he added. “That this place… was forgotten.”
You shook your head gently, curls brushing your cheek. “The forest forgets no one. It simply waits.”
That made something shift in his expression. A small crease near his brow. Interest. Understanding. Maybe even a sliver of longing.
He looked around the glade with new eyes now. Took in the way the branches arched over the clearing like cathedral rafters, how the blossoms clung to the edges of sunlight, how the brook laughed softly in its bed of polished stone. Then his eyes found yours again.
“You come here often,” he said, not quite a question.
You nodded. “It’s the only place where no one tells me who to be.”
A pause. His jaw clenched, just slightly, like he knew exactly what you meant.
You tilted your head, studying him with the same quiet wonder. “Are you a knight?”
The corner of his mouth lifted-just barely. “I was.”
“What are you now?”
He exhaled through his nose, not a sigh exactly, but something close. “A man without a banner. No orders. No oath. Just… passing through.”
His gaze swept over you again, slower this time, like he was committing every detail to memory. “But I didn’t expect to pass through a fairytale.”
Your breath caught. The compliment didn’t feel like a line-it felt unintentional. Honest. And something in your chest tightened unexpectedly.
“You speak like a poet,” you murmured.
He gave a soft, almost amused huff. “Not often. Only when the forest makes me forget myself.”
Another breeze stirred, lifting strands of your hair into the air. You didn’t brush them away. He didn’t look away.
“What is your name?” you asked.
He hesitated.
You stepped forward. Just once. Just enough to bridge the space between wildflowers.
“I won’t tell anyone,” you added, softer now. “It can stay here, in the forest.”
“…Mattheo,” he said, voice just above the wind. “Mattheo Riddle.”
The name settled between you like a secret offered willingly. You repeated it once in your mind, turning it over like a stone in your palm. It suited him-dark, sharp, something ancient pressed into something human.
“And you?” he asked, though something in his voice told you he already knew.
You considered lying. But it felt wrong, here, in the place where truth hung like sunlight between branches.
“You may call me whatever you like,” you said with a smile. “But they call me princess.”
Something in his expression darkened-not unkind, but knowing. You wondered what he saw in the word. A symbol of what he’d lost? Or something he’d never believed in to begin with?
Still, he gave a small bow, hand to his chest. “Then forgive me, Princess, for trespassing.”
You stepped forward again. Close now. The distance between you just enough for the scent of moss and summer flowers to mingle between your breaths.
“I’m not angry,” you said. “Perhaps you were meant to find this place.”
He looked down, just briefly, at your hand-where it brushed the petals of a low bloom. Then back to your eyes.
Synopsis: A war ravages your realm, and you must marry a stranger to help turn the tides. Schemes and plots run amok in an attempt to ruin you and the alliance. Your battle is just beginning.
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader except for clothing, princess! Reader, Lord! Jason, Medieval AU, Heavily inspired by the world of asoiaf so it uses some of it’s terms/lore. The prologue of my mini series, eventual love triangle, CW blood and violence, first meeting.
*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms and copy/pasted into any AI software*
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Prologue >>> Chapter 1
The journey to your new home wasn’t easy. It was plagued by your fear of getting ambushed by the opposing side, robbed by bandits, or face some being from your nightmares that the people have whispered about behind closed doors. But you weren’t prepared to see the horrors of the war left before you.
Bodies were left on the battlefield, banners fallen and torn beyond recognition. Dead horses lay abandoned on the muddy ground, eaten by crows or scavenged for meat by desperate folk. And those were the lucky ones, some bannermen were taken as prisoners, tortured, mutilated, the evidence of the cruelty left hanging by the roadside.
You couldn’t see them, but you heard them in the night, their screams echoed beyond the tree line of the king’s road, their flames flickering in between the trees. You have no idea if those people within the woods were on your side or not, but you weren’t brave enough to even peek through the carriage window.
Even though you’ve learned your lesson not to look, you could still smell it, the death and the rot that eats away at your realm. A stench that has made its home in your nose. The meadows that used to have blossoming wild flowers, and clear babbling brooks are now laden with the scars of war, ashen soil, half buried bodies, and red flowing waters. You thought that the smell coming from the stables and the rookery back home were horrible, but you haven’t smelled a bloated decaying body before, no matter how much you take a whiff of your perfume, it stays, never leaving, sticking to your very soul.
As a princess of the realm, you were spared from the fighting and the scheming. You were sheltered, shielded by the horrors that your family’s hand has wrought. But you weren’t safe from it all for you had to be bartered off to some lord’s son for a much needed alliance. You would’ve thrown a fit, cried for your mother and clung to her skirts, but you ran out of tears a long time ago. Your house is losing, you might not be allowed in the war room, but you know it from the whispers through the halls, hushed and afraid, afraid that they might wake up to blades at their throats, at men wearing a different sigil pillaging the castle, afraid of losing a war that the common folk had no hand in.
Your father, the king, is a prideful man, never one to cower. Not once in your life you remembered a smile upon his lips, not even when your little siblings were born, not when your older brother was married, he never showed a hint of emotion except for disappointment. Whenever you failed to memorize your prayers, or whenever you skipped out on your lessons, he’d look at you with tightly closed lips, a subtle furrow of his brow and eyes so cold and distant that you’d think you’ve done him a dishonour. But he did love you, you know he did, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have started this war over your brother’s murder. Because if he loved his son, your twin, he must’ve loved you too, right?
As you sit there in the plain carriage twiddling your thumbs and biting your lip, the road grows closer to your new home, to your husband that you have never met.
The carriage is bare and plain, made of simple oak and painted in black with a black flag fluttering in the wind. Making it look that the carriage is carrying remains of the dead, not a princess of the realm. If people knew what, or who lies inside, you would’ve been dead on the road moons ago.
You have a single guard with you and your handmaiden, enough to keep you company, no more no less. Enough to not garner attention from wandering folk. Once on the road for the first time in your life, you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the opposite side, maybe a dozen or so. Your handmaiden whispered to you then, “refugees,” she uttered quietly, afraid to be heard when the carriage was supposed to carry the dead. “They’re trying to get to the capital.” You didn’t know why they’d leave their home back then, but when you saw the scorched earth that the opposing houses have left, the retreating footsteps made more sense like how the night follows the morn.
There’s a soft knock coming from outside of the carriage, and your handmaiden, Thena, nods her head and pauses from her embroidery. “We’re almost there, princess.”
“Thena, tell me about him again.” Your fingers drag along your necklace of white gold rope, an owl, your sigil that rests upon your neck, a silvery pendant in the middle that opens to a lock of your mother’s hair and a piece of dried nightshade.
“For the road,” your mother, the queen consort said calmly when she placed it inside the locket, as if she had just given you a simple snack for your journey, not a deadly poison. They called her aloof and comely before she wedded your father, now they call her mad after the death of your brother. “Or for your husband.” She then whispered to you, voice laden with heaviness of untold stories. You never got to ask her anything, it would be your biggest regret in life, but in truth, you’ll be lighter for never knowing.
“Your lord husband?” Thena flicks her amber eyes at you, crow’s feet prominent around her eyes as she sighs under her breath. “Didn’t I already tell you everything you needed to know about him?”
“Please.” The owl leaves indents right on the skin of your thumb as you press on it tighter.
If she senses your nerves, she doesn’t say anything, to which you thank her for. “Alright, princess.” Clearing her throat, the carriage moves from side to side without a sign of stopping. “Your husband is the heir apparent to house Wayne, they said that he’s gallant, won a many tourneys before the age of six and ten. They also said that he’s quite handsome, striking eyes that matches the sea beside their manor. He’s young, kind, and handsome, your father found a perfect husband for you, princess, you need not worry. Some noble women have fared worse.”
“I know,” you swallow thickly, biting the inside of your cheek. “I consider myself lucky for that.”
Nodding, Thena resumes her embroidery, an owl taking flight beside a bat, surrounded by glittering stars. You were never one for embroidery, you loved reading and playing the harp more, but the symbolism in her embroidery isn’t missed by you.
“What…” your voice squeaks before you hastily clear your throat. “What of his family? Are they as kind as him?”
There’s a slight furrow on her brows, unease mayhaps, or pity. “The Lord Wayne is as gallant as he is,” that brings a soft smile on your face, “They have said that his mood is as cold as the storms that frequent there and he is as strong as the castle walls of your keep. He doesn’t bend to the will of men easily, and it has been known that he is far greater on the battlefield than managing his own home. But it’s because the gods haven’t given him a fair hand all his life.”
“His parents, and his lady wife?” There’s sorrow underneath your eyes.
“Aye,” she answers, lips pursed. “A cruel thing indeed, but he has fared better for it. His people have said that he is just to them, and if need be, he’ll use his iron fist to straighten them up. But nothing heinous or cruel, he sees that justice is done, that’s all.”
Nodding, you resort to resting your clasped hands on your lap, right atop the silk of your skirt, a pale blue fabric lined with embroidered silver feathers and moons. “What about his brothers? I heard that my husband has a few.” The title curdles on your tongue.
“There’s not much known of his siblings.” Thena inserts the needle into the fabric, head tilted and eyes squinted at it. “He has three, all younger than him of course.”
That’s better than facing off older brothers that are strangers to you. If they’re anything like your own brothers, they’d just avoid you in favour of training. But if they’re anything like your older brother, you might grow to love them like they were your own as much as you loved him.
“But.” Thena’s word pricks at your skin like how her needle pierces the fabric. “I have heard a lot about the second son—”
The carriage stops to a sudden abrupt halt. Almost flinging you in front as Thena keeps you upright with her firm hands on your shoulders.
“Blasted man,” she curses under her breath, comporting herself immediately as the horses neigh and the sound of large rattling metal doors open outside. “We’re here, your grace.”
You take a deep breath, and another then another as your nails dig further into your skirt. You feel as though the world would cave in from under you, swallowing you whole. You’re afraid, rightfully so when you were plucked out of your home with no say on the decision whatsoever.
Thena rests her embroidery beside you to take your hand in hers. “All will be well,” she whispers. “You are of royal blood, they cannot harm you without the crown knowing about it. Your great aunt will see to it.”
“She’s all the way back home, Thena.” you sound defeated as you squeeze her hand. Your great aunt is a formidable woman, someone who has lived through two kings and has survived it all, including the almost annihilation of her house. “She might be the master of whispers but even her ears cannot reach this far.”
Her head tilts, smiling at you faintly. “Aye, but her birds can.”
You manage a soft snort. “She’s not a witch despite what others might say.” Her wrinkled hands and keen eye would be missed by you, she was known to be kinder to her kin, but ruthless to folk who dare harm a hair on their head.
Thena squints, eyes glinting as her smile stretches on her aged face. “Or mayhaps there is some truth to it.”
Chuckling, you squeeze her hands back as the carriage moves once again. “Not even a month away from the keep and you’re already whispering traitorous words.”
“My words aren’t traitorous if they’re true.” Letting go of your hand, the sound of rattling chains and metal echo outside once again.
Your curiosity gets the better of you, and with a tentative hand, you move the black curtains away from the carriage window and take a peek behind.
The cold breeze immediately kisses your cheeks welcome, the high walls of the manor stretches high, as grey as the sky, making it seem like they are one, melting together into one great wall of stormy clouds and stone.
As you follow the rattling sound, you turn your head towards the back of the carriage, seeing two large metal gates close, leaving you but a glimpse of the road before it finally closes with a thud. Narrowing your eyes, you gaze at the fine carving of the steel plates, hundreds of bats are etched along it, taking flight in the cloudless night sky, sending shivers down your spine.
This is your home now, and the bats would be your sigil, gone are the days of looking outside your balcony to look at the colourful gardens that your great grandfather commissioned for his great love, gone are the days of basking in the sunlight that’s now replaced by the cold grey sky. You must comport yourself, this is your duty, your way of helping and winning the war, so you must bear it all, even if you miss home.
Because this is nothing compared to the violence and death of a battlefield, so you must endure, for this is your battle to conquer, yours and no one else’s.
You don’t wield a sword or a battle axe to this battle, you’re armed by nothing but your wits and resilience. Something that the women in your house have greatly taught you the moment you took your first breath with your older brother.
You straighten your shoulders, chin held up high as the carriage continues to ride along the sides of the mountain pass, a singular lane that has been described as treacherous to traverse. With one false move the carriage would tumble down into the rocky cliffs below, and you could feel every rattle and thump of the wheel as the horses neigh outside and your guard huffing and whipping at the reins.
If the carriage should fall, your marriage would have already ended before it started. A part of you doesn’t mind it, but a part of you fears for your younger sisters at home, they’d send them in your place, you know they would, until one manages to get to the manor without falling off the stubborn cliffs of house Wayne.
Thena seems more courageous than you, unlike the brave face that you had to don for yourself. She’s even humming a tune, one that you remember fondly from your childhood whilst she finishes her embroidery, and while you hold your breath with every sharp turn the carriage takes.
“Do you remember why house Wayne built their manor up here?” Your handmaiden asks, trying to test your knowledge when she had been the one who taught you most. Her breath stills in her throat as the air thins from the height.
“Harder for sieges, and harder for an army to get past the mountainous pass if they manage to break through the iron gates.” You recall your studies, hands wringing around your skirt. You could feel the cold air enter your lungs as you take a deep breath. “Can I open the curtains?” Hand to your chest, you try to intake air that doesn’t choke you. “Y–you said that we were already here.”
“And what would the house do to the ones that manage to get up on the pass?”
“Thena—”
“Princess, you need to distract yourself.” She says sternly, eyes reminding you of your father’s. “How do they stop them?”
“Rocks,” you cough, nails scratching at your neck, leaving marks on your skin. “scalding hot rocks that they pour on the side of the mountain and from underneath their manor, crushing their foes with stone and fire.”
Thena finally moves to your side, arms open as she embraces you like she has always done ever since you were a little girl. “Calm now,” her knuckles caress along your arm. “Princess, take a deep breath.”
“Please open the windows!” Your breath staggers, legs feeling numb as your fingers twist like rusted chains.
“Trust me, you do not want to see what’s outside.” She whispers in your ear. “Close your eyes, why don’t we hum, hm?”
You obey immediately, eyes closing, humming the same tune as her as you try to breathe in as much as you can, cradled like a babe in her arms.
Before you knew it, the carriage finally stops, ceasing its wobbly movements as you inhale deeply. You could smell the faint smell of the sea, and the scent of petrichor lingering in the air, as if a storm is just waiting to welcome you to your new home. The cold nips at your skin as the feeling in your hands returns.
“We’re here, my lady.” She softly says, patting your shoulder for you to open your eyes. “Comport yourself, your husband is waiting.”
—
You were right about the storm coming, but Thena was wrong about your husband waiting for you.
The grand hall of the manor, or castle more like, reminds you of a cathedral, if a cathedral is made out of a carved mountain. It’s all jagged stone just like from the outside, some protrudes from the walls, a reminder of how it came to be. As you glance up, you see the famous domed ceiling of Wayne manor, curved to perfection, marble and granite that makes the hall otherworldly, as if the waves itself carved it for the ancient house. It’s cavernous, so much so that there are bats flying about the dome, sleeping upside down, blending into the dark stone.
Something thumps behind you loudly, causing you to look over your shoulder.
“Sorry, m’lady.” The knight that came with you, Ser Andros, gives you an apologetic look as he sits up one of your trunks. The rain drenches its leather sides, as soaked as the cloak clinging onto your shoulders and head.
You give him a forgiving nod, before walking around the hall, head raised up to gaze into the deep cavernous ceiling. You swear that you could see clouds drift upon it. A bat squeaks and opens its eyes, more likely from the loud interruption as it flies around whilst you follow its flight.
You back away out of instinct, afraid that it might bite you as it swoops down onto the large throne, idling atop it as the seat looks as sharp as a blade. Tilting your head, the bat tilts its head back, and you let out a quiet chuckle that echoes around the quiet hall.
“Let me get this off you before you catch your death.” Thena crosses the distance towards you, the dim torch lights bounces off her face.
“Where are they?” You softly ask, a tad hurt by the lack of welcome as you whirl to face her before she could take off your coat.
“Perhaps the storm quieted our arrival.” She says with a kind smile, perhaps to make you feel better. “I’ve sent one of their guards to fetch someone, anyone, the castellan, or more preferably your husband.”
Your hand drifts onto your necklace once again. “I don’t know, Thena, something doesn’t quite feel right—”
The double doors burst open from the harsh wind outside, causing your trunks to fall down like dominos on the marbled floor, clanging against it like the thunder outside. Poor Andros sighs tiredly under his breath. Lightning strikes and flashes as a silhouette on a red roan horse as crimson as rust on steel appears from within the downpour. A patch of bloodied red upon a sea of grey and rain.
Your breath gets stuck in your throat, as your grip onto the necklace tightens on instinct. You could feel Thena freeze beside you, barely moving as her eyes follows the hooded man’s movements.
He dismounts, taking the dead wild boar from the horse’s dock, flinging it onto his shoulder with ease as the rain pours down on him. His free hand rests upon the pommel of his sword, arrows clanging from his hip as the large bow strapped to his back pinches at his chest.
“That must be the game master.” Thena mutters beside you, but your attention is on the tall rakish man with broad shoulders, and muscle befitting a knight, who is now walking into the grand hall with wide strides. His cloak is soaked to the bone, dragging along the marble floor, as is his leather doublet that sticks to his skin. He tracks mud and rainwater into the throne room, unbothered by the mess he’s making. “Good Ser—”
“Princess.” He utters steadily in a deep tone, sure of himself, face hidden underneath the shadow of his hood. “You’re late.”
That’s the last thing you thought he would say. “What?” You could smell the rain on him that reminds you of the days you would rest by the gardens and reach your hand just beyond the awning to feel the cold water on your palm. “I was delayed…” the scent of rain gets stuck in your throat, overwhelming you while his heat radiates off him like waves. “We were trying to be discreet.”
“Ah, yes, for your safety.” A chuckle, akin to a scoff, escapes from the stranger’s lips.
“Well, yes.” Your hands clasps together behind you, fingers wringing together but you hold your head up high despite your nerves striking like lightning into your chest. “It would be quite rude to appear before your lord all chopped up.” Thena almost chokes beside you.
Even with the hood cascading a shadow over his face, you could still see the glimmer of a smile on his lips. “Well met, princess.”
“And I, you, Ser…?”
“Ja—”
“My lord,” someone calls from within the hall, appearing from behind the large stone throne. His blue eyes are frantically wide, almost distressed but his body doesn’t show it as he strides towards you with calculated steps. “Back from the hunt already?”
You almost choke on your spit just like Thena but you hold it together as you turn your gaze towards the supposed hunter. “Are you…?” Embers fly inside your stomach as you feel your fingers grow numb. You haven’t even noticed that you’ve bitten the inside of your cheek until you could taste copper on your tongue.
You’ve come face to face with your husband.
“Princess,” the steward finally greets you with a small smile and a respectful bow. “It’s a pleasure to have you, my apologies for having us meet this way, we anticipated you yesterday. But I’m sure everything went well on your journey?”
“Y–Yes, my sincere apologies, Ser. There was a delay.” You say softly, eyes still gazing into the hood, trying to get a glimpse of his face. Even with the shadow draped over him, you could feel his eyes on you.
“That’s unfortunate.” The older man turns his gaze back and forth from you to his lord. “We shall do our utmost to make you feel at home. My name is Alfred, Lord Wayne’s steward.” He then clasps the stranger’s bicep, a hand barely wrapping around his arm when the old man’s hand is smaller than his muscle. “And this is—”
“Jason.” The would-be hunter finally introduces himself, gently yanking off his hood as his brilliant green eyes gazes right into your own. His chiseled face, dark hair that could blend into the night with a shot of white streak at the front, has your breath taken right from your parted lips.
“Ah, yes. This is Lord Jason, the castellan.” Alfred winces at the intensity of your gaze upon Jason. “Your brother in law, your grace.”
Your head turns to him in an unladylike way, registering his name in your head lastly when you got lost in the sea of emeralds. “Oh.”
Genre/Warnings: fluff, smut, porn with no plot but backstory, penetration (fem rec)., penetration via dagger hilt, petnames, spitting, aftercare of course :), kinda proofread
A/N: Saw something awhile back about knight Bucky fucking reader with the hilt of his sword. The idea has been stuck in brain for forever now. I need to release it
———
What you are doing, what you are in the middle of, is improper for a lady. Even more improper for a royal lady such as yourself.
You had taken a ride out just after midday, out to the tip-top of a clearing that overlooks the the forest that surrounds the castle you reside in. Not by yourself though. You had ridden horse-by-horse alongside one of your royal knights, James Buchanan Barnes. A knight that you endearingly called “Bucky,” as per request of him actually.
Bucky was a royal servant of yours, appointed to your side as of your choosing. He was loyal to no one but you, a bless on your half and a curse on others. No one had dare even breathed wrong in your general direction lest they meet the wrath of one of the knight’s deadly blades. Though, Bucky’s steely blue eyes were enough to kill a man if need be.
Bucky and you spent many hours and many days together. Often just you two, by yourselves. You’d walk the often empty castle halls, meandered through the gardens, sleep in the library, or explore the grounds of your kingdom. The last had lead you two to discover this special spot that was a couple hours ride away on horseback from the castle and atop a hill that overlooked the castle grounds on a hill.
Which is where you were currently. While the sun shone down on your both, making your jewelry shine and Bucky’s steel armor glitter. Though you two were far from looking proper with your dressed ruffled and pushed up your thighs, and Bucky’s armor discarded to the side. It left the man’s loose-fitting undershirt exposed, which was pushed up to his elbows. His helmet was discarded as well, showing off his messy, short hair. The knight’s blue eyes shone in the sunlight despite the heavy set of his brows.
Your own self was exposed. The corset that you’d worn over your dress and around your abdomen had been untied and removed. Your dress had been pushed up to reveal the meat of your thighs, the valley of your lower stomach, and what lay between your legs.
And Bucky had been all to pleased to explore your exposed skin with his mouth and hands once more, pressing his fingertips into your skin and leaving love bites to be hidden beneath the layers of your clothes. And he had teased your skin with the sheathed blade of his dagger that he had unlatched from the strap around his midsection. The leather was cool against your skin and the hilt shone when it caught the light of the sun.
Though, the hilt seemed extra shiny with your slick that coated the ribbed leather with every pull from you. The cross guard dripped with your arousal, making even more of a mess.
Both of you laid in the grass. You were on your back and Bucky was laid on his side, propped up by his elbow and his cheek in his hand. He looked down at you endearingly as one arm of yours moved to wrap around his neck and bury your hand in his hair and as your free hand gripped at the soft fabric of his shirt. Your legs were spread, making room for the hilt of the dagger that Bucky fucked you with.
You were sobbing out moans, eyes screwed shut as you voiced your pleasure unabashedly out into the surrounding nature. Your back arched and feet shifted in the grass below you as you squirmed just a tad.
“Messy girl,” Bucky cooed, eyes heavy as he watched you squirm.
He leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. He stayed there to breath in the smell of you, a mixture of soap, flowers, the grass below, and something uniquely you. Bucky could never get over the way you smell, whether it was the smell of your neck or your cunt between your thighs. It was heaven to him. The knight claimed it was better than any flower in the garden.
“How does it make you feel knowing that I’ve killed men with this very dagger I fuck you with?” Bucky asked, voice low and rumbly.
“G-good,” You stutter, a whine lacing the words.
You grip even tighter as Bucky’s shirt as you feel the pummel of the dagger drag against that special spot inside you. It sends waves of hot pleasure that bubbles under your skin. The heat boils over as slick arousal slips from your pussy, making a mess of your thighs, the dagger, and Bucky’s fingers that are closest to the cross guard. You shift and squirm under Bucky, pleasuring building inside you.
Almost as if Bucky can read you like a book (he can), he asked, “What do you want, pretty girl? Your body’s just begging for something.”
You whine and moan, practically sobbing at the subtle angle change of the dagger. It’s angled upwards, pressing up into your pelvis more.
“Wanna- wanna cum.. Please!” You beg, chest heaving.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Bucky pulled away from your gently. He moved to sit up, but your hand gripping his shirt preventing him from getting far. “Gotta let go, pretty girl.”
You do, letting go his his hair and his shirt. You grip at the fabric of your pushed up dress instead.
“Good girl. Thank you,” With that Bucky moved from his half-laid down position to sit between you thighs.
The movements of the dagger stop momentarily so he can switch it to his left hand, the hand that was scarred and blistered from a fire that happened so long ago. Before you can whine and shift your hips to fuck yourself on the dagger, Bucky pulls it from you into only the pommel stays inside you. Then, he’s easing the ribbed hilt back in, steady his previous steady pace. Bucky splays his right hand on your pelvis, pressing his thumb to your little clit that throbs for attention. He circles his thumb tightly over your clit, glancing between your soaked, heated cunt and your face.
Your thighs are over Bucky’s as he sits between them, giving you no chance to close them around his broad form. You grip the fabric of your dress tightly, knuckles white. Your eyes are screwed shut and your mouth open as you moan and whine below Bucky. There are no words coming from your mouth, and none form in that poor, foggy brain of yours. Bucky’s hands always know how to blank out that brain of yours and make you dumb. It helps that he knows what you need even before you voice it, or try to. Which is why when that familiar coil in your lower stomach starts to tighten, two of Bucky’s fingers replace his thumb to rub slick circles over your clit. His fingers match that pace of his dagger.
“There you go, princess,” Bucky uses your title as a petname. He’s effectively ruined the name for you when anyone calls you by your title. You often have to stave off the heat crawling under your skin and fight of flashbacks when someone calls for you attention. “Feeling so good, huh?”
You nod, closing your mouth to swallow down spit before opening back up with a cry as Bucky changes pace. He goes faster.
“Can feel you tightening up around the hilt of my dagger,” Bucky comments, eyeing the way it shines with every pull from your pussy. “It’s getting harder to pull out.”
The pleasure builds and builds, overwhelming so as it always does with Bucky. Until your thighs are shaking and little whines spill from your lips, sounding out into the open air above you.
It’s like music for Bucky’s ears.
Just before you reach your peak you manage to speak, “Fuck- Bucky- I- I- I’m gonna- fuck- oh my gods!”
Bucky’s fingers over faster over your clit, flicking from side to side as he pushes you over.
The coil in your lower abdomen snaps almost violently and your orgasm washes over you. Your thighs shake and threaten to close, but they obviously can’t. You’re quick to bring a hand up to your mouth to stick to your knuckles into your mouth to bite down on. Your moans are both muffled and clear as day as you cuss and repeat Bucky’s name as if in prayer. But your moans slip into whines as overstimulation set in and you move your free hand down to grip at Bucky’s wrist to stop his movements.
He does, thankfully.
Bucky stops, fingers lingering over your clit to feel it pulse with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Then, he’s pulling off and pulling his dagger out from your fucked cunt.
You peek open your eyes, watching Bucky sit between your thighs. You breath heavily through your nose to catch your breath, not yet pulling your fingers from your mouth. But, your cheeks heat even more as you watch Bucky’s next actions.
Bucky moves his dagger up to his lips, keeping eye contact with you. He sticks out his tongue to lick across the cross guard, up and between the ridges of the hilt, and around the pommel. He groans at the taste of you, eyes fluttering shut and shoulders completely relaxing. When your knight opens his steely blue eyes back up, he catches the droplet of your clear arousal sliding down the leather of the sheath. While still maintaining his deadly eye contact, he’s darting his tongue down to the tip of the sheath and dragging back up to follow the trail of your arousal backwards until he’s effectively cleaned his dagger of you. Without as much as wiping his dagger dry, Bucky latches the sheath and dagger back onto the strap around his midsection. Then, he’s leaning forward and tutting at you.
“Enough of that,” Bucky scolds softly, leaning over you and propping himself up on his left hand beside your head. “Gotta open on up for me.”
Bucky pulls your fingers from your mouth, tugging to encourage your teeth to loosen their hold. When you let go, Bucky pulls your hand down to give himself clear passage to your mouth. He grabs at your chin with his fingers and thumbs at your bottom lip, eyes lingering to watch the skin move. Then, he’s pushing his thumb into your still-open mouth to press down against your tongue gently.
The muscle is slick and wet below his thumb, but you keep it still. Bucky uses this leverage to keep your mouth open. Though, his gaze finally meets yours once against when you whine.
You’re looking at his almost expectedly, but full-on desperate.
“Oh, I know what you want, pretty girl,” The knight’s words are laced with teasing. “I’m gonna give it to you, yeah?”
With some movement of his tongue and a purse of his lips, a string of spit falls from Bucky’s mouth slowly. It’s almost too long until it meets the tip of your tongue, where the string is pulled taunt and snaps. Bucky keeps his thumb pressed into your tongue, watch the glob of spit slide down you tongue. Then, he’s pulling away before the spit hits the back of your throat and he’s patting your cheek gently.
“Swallow,” Bucky demands gently.
You do, eager to swallow down the taste of him.
“Good girl,” He pats your cheek again.
Without another word, Bucky leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. His lips are soft and warm, though a little wet. The knight lingers there until he pulls back with a need for air. He’s then sitting back on his haunches and rubbing at the skin of your thighs.
“Let’s get you situated, yeah?” Bucky tilts his head in question. “But I’m keeping these since I gave you your last pair back.” He holds up his right hand, your panties dangling in between his fingers as he wiggles his eyebrows a bit. Then, he’s moving around to stuff them in the side-waistband of his pants that he wears under the lower torso/legs of his armor. “C’mon, up and at ‘em.”
Bucky stands, grabbing both of your hands to help you stand before him. He smoothes down your dress until it covers your modestly again, adjust the waistline and sleeves. Then, he’s turning you gently as he grabs at your little mid-section corset and sliding it on you again. He cinches it tight enough, which is only enough to comfortably hug you, and tying it back in place like he’s done many times before. Then, finally, he’s turning you back towards to face him.
You let Bucky situate you without complaint or compliment, brain still fuzzy and unthinking. It’s a privilege that you trust Bucky so much to act like this around him, to be vulnerable enough to know that he knows what you need from him. When you face him again, you lean forward to rest your forehead on his chest. You can feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your head. Then, his arms wrap around you in a loose hug.
With a gentle hand, Bucky grabs at your jaw with his large hand, squeezing your cheeks together a little bit, and tilting your head to look up at him. He meets your eyes with endearing ones of his own.
“My poor dumb baby,” Bucky coos, shaking your head a little. “Can’t even think for yourself. I gotta do it for you, yeah?”
You nod, almost mindlessly.
“Well, then we can sit here until you wake up some, and then we can go back to the castle and eat,” Bucky says, lowering you two back down to the grass. His words leave no room for argument.
Bucky sits down, waiting for you to get situated however you want to until he gets comfortable.
You crawl between Bucky’s legs and lay on your back between them. You lay your head on one of his armor-covered thighs, staring up at him as he looks down at you.
The knight only chuckles, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles down at you. He drags a hand through your hair, pushing strand away from your forehead and rubbing at your scalp. Bucky rests back on his right arm, his left hand gently grooming your hair.
You stare admiredly at the scars of his left arm. You follow them up to where they disappear under the pushed-up sleeve of his shirt and then reappear from his shirt’s neckline as the scars dance and fade away as they crawl up the side of his neck. You like his scars, and you know he doesn’t mind your staring anymore. So, you’re free to admire as you please, which is often.
“We’ll stay here until you’re ready,” Bucky sighs, still looking down at you.
You nod, eyes fluttering closed as a sudden bout of sleepiness settles inside you. You’ll only close for your eyes for a few moments..
if my princess!reader was in the dc universe… ⋆˚࿔ clark x princess!reader x lois
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
when klara’s partying winds up being far longer than clark had anticipated, clark finds himself feeling immense pity for the poor pup she had dropped off at his doorstep.
with his busy schedule of journalist responsibilities and superhero responsibilities, he can barely find enough time to take krypto out on the long walk he deserves. so, clark decides to hire the first dog walker he can find.
when clark hears the soft knocking of his apartment door, he expects to find a teenage girl trying to earn a bit of pocket money. he does not expect to see you at his front door. a girl with soft eyes, a sweet smile, and dressed like a barbie doll.
you and clark get close fast; after all, you do see him twice a day. as the two of you meet more and more frequently, you find yourself occasionally stopping by the daily planet. whether it was to drop off a ‘forgotten lunch’ or solely just to see him is up for debate, however.
when you wind up at the daily planet, you’re quick to catch the attention from one of clark’s closest colleagues, lois. clark and lois end up practically competing for your attention, and a weird confession from both of them leaves you dumbfounded.
you were always an indecisive girl. so, when you suggested dating both of them, they figured it was an opportunity too good to pass up.
dallas winston x princess!reader x sherri valance. - a moodboard!
when cherry and her girlfriend smoke a little too much weed late at night in cherry’s apartment, princess! reader finds herself giving her old friend dal’ a late night call…
after the three of them have a little too much sativa-fueled fun, they always make sure to give dallas a call if they ever need a helping hand from that night on…
Summary: The reader finds solace from life at court by working in her beloved garden. She almost never has visitors. At least, not usually.
Word Count: 2,129
previous
series masterlist
Warnings: Brief mention of parental death.
Author's note: Wow! I apologize for how long it took me to get this story on paper. I struggled with writers block for some time, and I'm currently completing my grad program which has been taking up a lot of my energy. That being said, this is another continuation of my Sir Leon x princess! reader series. I plan to make this story more coherent in future, but for now I hope you enjoy this sweet interaction between the two. The princess' mother is mentioned briefly however, my intention is for this story to be as inclusive as possible so it is not specified whether the princess shares a mother with Arthur or if Uther remarried in this universe. That distinction is up to you. Happy reading!
-Lera 4/29/26
The sun hung swollen and lazy overhead, the afternoon stretching long across the castle walls. Hidden below the shade of an ancient oak tree, the princess sat elbow deep in the soil carefully replanting a lilac bush, her matching skirts pooling gracefully around her. Not many outside the royal family, the kingsguard, and the servants knew about this hidden oasis. Tucked between the western wings, the garden was a beautiful escape from the expectations that came with having royal blood. In her childhood, the garden was her and Morgana’s favorite place to play. They would spend hours hidden away in the flowers, imagining they were going on wild adventures in faraway lands. Sometimes they were even able to convince Arthur to join in, usually having him play the part of a fierce dragon, or a noble knight. But as the years went by, and the three children grew up, only the princess continued to visit.
In recent years she’d taken over this potion of the garden for herself, asking the gardeners to leave it to her tending alone. Whenever she was able, the young woman would steal away to care for her flowers and enjoy the quiet solitude and fresh air. Days like today were her favorite. When she didn’t have any etiquette lessons to attend, or servants asking her opinions on decorations for upcoming galas. Days when she could be completely herself, with only her plants to keep her company and her thoughts to occupy her mind.
The Princess hand poured soil around the delicate root system with all the grace and gentility afforded by the privileges of her station. She smoothly wiped her brow as she carefully tapped the remaining loose earth, a muddy smudge marring her cheek in the aftermath.
Soft footsteps from behind alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. Even before she turned, she could feel his presence. A shift in the air that caused goosebumps to cover her skin.
“You know–” She started without looking back. A shy smile creeping across her features. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” She slowly shifted to face him. Her grin fully evident as she rested her hands on her cotton skirts, staining the lavender with the soil she had just been tamping into the earth. Before her, Sir Leon stood tall. A look of surprise painting his handsome face.
“My apologies Princess.” His voice nearly faltered. “It was not my intention to sneak.”
The young woman couldn’t help but notice soft blush coloring his cheeks. ‘Surely it’s only from the heat.’ She internally chided herself for daring to think it could be in response to her.
“I was unaware the garden was occupied.” He carefully bowed his head, golden curls gently falling into stormy eyes. “I will take my leave and disturb you no further.”
“You didn’t!” She interrupted, possibly a little too eagerly. “Disturb me that is.” A sheepish look crossed her face. “You’re welcome to stay if you like. It’s no bother to me.” She finished. ‘Congratulations, now you’re holding the poor man hostage! Surely he must think you unstable.’ Her thoughts berated her. “That is unless you’re busy, of course.”
“No.” He smiled back at her. “I’ve actually found myself with a bit of free time today. Arthur’s training some new novitiate knights, most of whom have never held a sword before so your brother’s putting them through all the basic trainings. He’s given me some time to myself before I’m due back to assist with duelling.” His gaze dropped to the lilac that she had been planting. “It’s beautiful. Did you plant all of these?” Leon asked, taking in the lush greenery surrounding them.
“Only the ones in this corner.” She answered. “I try to tend to them as often as I can, and I’d like to add more but it seems there’s never enough time for it.”
“I think it’s perfect as it is.” The knight nodded with admiration. “You’ve done a lovely job, Princess.” The young woman felt her face flush at his words.
“Thank you Sir Leon, I appreciate the sentiment. Although you should take care not to inflate my ego too much.” A giggle escaped the girl’s lips.
“I sincerely doubt your humility would allow for it.” Sir Leon smiled back. “Since I’m unoccupied at the moment, is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Well if you’re offering, I suppose I wouldn’t mind some help with the weeding.” She smiled shyly. “But only if you’re careful not to dirty your uniform! I wouldn’t want to incur Merlin’s wrath if he has to scrub out any stains.” Leon huffed out a laugh.
“This cloak has certainly seen worse than a little dirt, Princess. But if it eases your mind.” He reached to unfasten the buckle at his neck that held his scarlet knight’s cape secure around his broad shoulders. Carefully, he shrugged it off and folded it a few times before draping it across an oak branch. “There.” He knelt down to meet her on the clovered ground. “Now it is in no danger, and you’re free to put me to work.” He grinned, shining blue eyes meeting her own. She quickly glanced away, smiling instead at her lap. Visions of another response to that invitation clouding her mind. ‘Stop! He’s only being gentlemanly and you are a lady of gentle birth.’ She scolded herself, brushing away any thoughts of impropriety.
This turned out to be a simple prospect since Sir Leon was such an easy companion to pass the time with. While the princess might have expected herself to feel stiff or uncomfortable, being so used to the plants being her only company in this place, she was surprised to find that the two seemed to fall into an easy back and forth.
“Now this one I do know.” Leon nodded towards a tall cluster of deep purple flowers as he carefully pulled a butter yellow dandelion from the soil. His brow furrowed upon further examination. “At least I should, it practically covered the grounds at my family’s estate.” He considered another moment, his mouth pursing in concentration. “Dogsfoot?” He finally answered.
The princess let out a bubbling laugh. “Dogsfoot?” She giggled. “Is that your final answer?”
“I take it from your reaction that I’m incorrect in my identification.” He smiled, this time the blush across his cheeks and nose, undeniable.
“You’re actually not far off, it’s foxglove.” The princess answered with a grin.
“See, I knew it had to be shoe or foot something.” His gaze returned to the task at hand. “It was my mother who was the botanist in our family. My father always said it was an unsuitable hobby for a lady.” He broke off abruptly, eyes wide with apology. “Not, of course, that I share that belief, Princess.”
She smiled understandably.
“I take no offense. Please.” She gently rested a hand on his arm. “I’d like to hear more about her.”
“Well she would have loved this place.” He told her, glancing around at the vibrant florals surrounding the pair. “Her favorite flowers were bluebells. In spring, she’d fill every room with vases full of them.” He dipped his head solemnly. “When I think of her, even now, I can smell those flowers as surely as I did when I was a boy.”
The princess’ chest tightened with sympathy. She had known that Sir Leon’s mother had passed before he’d had the chance to grow into a man, but she had never heard him speak of her before. Carefully, she took his hands into her own smaller ones. To her surprise, he held them firmly, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin of her wrist.
“She must have been an extraordinary woman.” She said with sincerity. “I’m sure you miss her very much.”
“I do.” He met her with a soft gaze. His blue eyes shining with unshed tears.
“But you know that feeling as well as I do, Princess.” The girl’s eyes dropped to her lap. Although her own mother had died soon after giving birth to her, she felt guilty comparing the two losses as she’d never had the chance to know her mother. To love and understand her the way that Sir Leon had. Her loss, she felt, was insignificant next to his.
Always the gentleman, Sir Leon quickly pulled the conversation away from thoughts too distressing for the princess.
“I speak the truth, Princess.” He squeezed her hands with a careful strength. “If my mother had been able to see what you’ve done here she would be most impressed.” A bright smile lit up his handsome features, pulling a similar one from the young woman.
“I wish I’d been able to meet her.” She answered. “I’m sure there’s so much I might have learned from her.” Sir Leon’s eyes softened, tracing over her delicate features.
“I know one thing for certain, Princess. If you had met, she would have absolutely adored you.” He told her in earnest.
Before she could even begin to form a response to such high praise, she was distracted by a high pitched buzzing near her face. She pulled in a sharp gasp, as what she was almost certain was a wasp, burrowed itself into the front of her hair.
“Don’t worry it’s only a bee, Princess.” Sir Leon leaned forward, only a fraction closer than he was before, but she could feel the space between them shrinking just as clearly as she could feel the movements of the poor creature that had become caught in her locks. “Hold very still and it won’t hurt you.”
With a practiced steadiness, the knight leaned in even closer. His hand cautiously reached up to brush the insect away, gently grazing the side of her cheek as he did so.
“There.” He nodded. “All gone.” But he did not move away. Instead, he turned his hand, agonizingly, painfully slowly, to gently cup the princess’ face. His thumb lightly stroked her cheek, the way it had her wrist just minutes before, causing her to be devoid of all speech. Her lips dropped slightly open, but no words came to follow. Any thoughts of decorum were banished to the far reaches of her mind as she covered his hand with her own, leaning further into his tender touch.
Without meaning, her eyes dipped down to his mouth, primrose pink and gently parted. His face tilted ever so slightly closer, and glancing up the princess saw that his own gaze was fixed on her mouth. As if drawn by gravity, she leaned her chin almost imperceptibly towards the knight’s own. But before she could draw any closer, the clamorous clanging of the bell tower rang through the garden, interrupting the heated moment.
The pair practically leaped apart, the princess sheepishly brushing her skirts in an attempt to disperse her embarrassment, and Sir Leon looking anywhere but at her. Clearing his throat, he broke the silence between them.
“Erm,” He stammered as he got to his feet. “That’ll be the top of the hour. I’m afraid I’m needed back at the training grounds.”
“Of course you are!” She fumbled slightly as she stood, a smile threatening to break through at the thought of what had almost happened. “Tell Arthur I said hello!” She winced at the request. ‘Can you at least try to be normal?’ She berated herself. ‘When have you ever sent along good wishes for Arthur?’ Sir Leon, mercifully, ignored the strange request, dropping into a low bow.
“Thank you again, Princess, for allowing me the pleasure of your company.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Sir Leon.” She said instead, resisting the urge to take his hands one more time. “Oh!” She turned suddenly, reaching up into the branches above her. “You might need this.” She gingerly handed him his cape, just as neatly folded as it was when he’d hung it there in the first place.
“Yes.” He let out a dry laugh. “I guess I might.” Upon taking it, their hands brushed again, causing the princess’ fingers to tingle with electricity, and her mind to go blank once more. Draping the cloak over his broad shoulders, he was instantly his serious self once more. But she couldn’t help but notice a hint of a smile pulling just slightly at the corner of his mouth. “Will I see you at dinner tonight, Princess?”
“Of course you will.” She smiled. Briefly, he bowed his head once more.
“I will look forward to it.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and was gone just as quickly as he’d arrived. Leaving the princess with nothing to do but sit back against the trunk of the ancient oak and lose herself in her thoughts of him.
