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auroracalisto · 2 years

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a true love match

— falling in love wasn’t something you thought you’d have as a servant in the ‘ton. but with benedict, you were starting to believe it was. word count: 2.5k tw: gn!reader, anxious/nervous reader & benedict, servant!reader, alcohol consumption but nothing more comes of it, short "backstory" at the beginning (literally just a couple paragraphs) a/n: another fic i've been working on for over two months. finally finished it up while at work LMAO anyway please enjoy i legitimately like this one

the harrison family—a family with money and power and everything you would want in the 'ton.

and you were one of their many servants.

tending to their rambunctious children, you had to admit each of them was like your own in a way; you saw them far more than their papa ever did, while their mama could have cared less about the younger ones and doted on those of age—the ones to be married, the ones who would soon make their own way out into the world.

margot, their eldest, held a special place in your heart. you were closer to her than the others, as she treated you with a kindness that most lords and ladies did not. maximilian was the second eldest, living life without a care in the world—he was kind enough, always cracking a crude joke here and there. and then there was mathilda and little madeline. each with a toothy smile to greet you with, loving you just as much as they loved their parents.

like the bridgerton family, whom just lived beyond the harrison’s walls, it was their eldest daughter’s first season. you’d never get to see the balls and luncheons that margot would see, but you lived vicariously through her sibling's lamentations about how beautiful it was (and how good the food happened to be).

that’s how you lived your life—living vicariously for the ones you cared for, and continuing to work until the day you’d eventually meet your demise. you cared little for love and marriage, as it never seemed possible. marriage was one thing that perhaps you might find with the postman, or the other servants who waited on the families around you, but love seemed to evade you every step of the way.

it had never been possible.

until you saw him.

it wasn’t the first time you laid eyes on benedict bridgerton.

no, you had seen him time and time again, as he would sometimes visit your master and his eldest son, or you would see him enter his carriage just across the street.

but you never truly saw him like you did that day.

it had been terrible weather—the rain had come down in a hurry, drowning the flowers that had previously begged for drink. your master had left the house with each of his children, even little madeline. you were completely and utterly alone, which wasn’t something that happened very often. so you took advantage.

this particular night, you found yourself standing on the edge of the stairs, watching as the rain let up. dark storm clouds covered the normally starry skies, keeping you from seeing the beauty of the night when a voice caught your attention.

“shouldn’t you be inside? you’ll catch a cold.”

benedict.

you quickly looked down, almost expecting him to be talking to someone else—perhaps one of the featherington girls had made their way outside as well.

but no. he was staring right at you, umbrella overhead, and a soft smile plastered on his handsome face.

he had just come from a party—not that he would tell you. but the drunkenness he had felt swiftly disappeared when he laid his eyes upon you. that sweet, humble servant who always caught his eye.

“sir bridgerton,” you began, pausing as his smile only grew.

“benedict, please. we’re the only two here.”

cheeks flushed, heart fluttering in your chest, you smiled.

“very well, benedict. but i will be fine.”

“hm,” benedict hummed, looking both ways down the cobblestone street before making his way to you. he took the stairs slow enough that you would have the opportunity to ask him to leave, but it never came.

“may i provide you company, y/n?”

you paused again. but not because of the company he offered—because he was talking to you. not at you, not through you. he was talking to you and he knew your name. not even your lady bothered to remember your name half of the time she was around you, and you had been taking care of her children for well over five years now; you had been hired the summer before mathilda was born.

“how do you know my name?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

benedict only smiled, holding the umbrella over the two of you as he looked out at the street. the rain was coming to a stop, the streets glistening in the early hours of the night.

“i have my ways,” he said.

he had really pestered a couple of the harrison’s servants to get your name, but he kept that to himself. color him surprised with the fact that they hadn’t already come to you, telling you of his interest, but he was grateful. the element of surprise might truly be on his side.

you looked away from him. “sir—benedict,” you began, clearing your throat. “i am no lady nor lord, but the ‘ton would still talk if they saw the two of us together, would they not?”

“perhaps,” he grinned. “but it is nothing my sister and brother could not take care of with a scandal of their own.”

you snorted softly. a scandal? is that what he wanted?

but as the night continued on, realization struck you. the subtle glances, the longing looks from across the ballroom—they were all apart of your little crush on the bridgerton. and him sitting there, speaking to you as if you were his equal—it only fueled the crush further, fanning the embers into a raging fire within the depths of your heart.

“benedict,” you said, noticing the moon peaking in the sky. the harrison’s would be back at any moment, now, having informed you their dinner would run well into the night. “perhaps it is time for me to retire for the night. i should get some rest before they return.”

he hummed once more, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. umbrella long put away, the moonlight perfectly illuminated his sculpted features.

you swallowed thickly, your eyes evading him. you needed to squash whatever feelings these were. it wasn’t proper. you would be hurting him more than you would hurt yourself. you knew how these things went.

benedict peeked at you through a squint, a chuckle escaping him. “perhaps you will be in attendance to the dinner my mother is throwing next week.”

“i do not know if that would be wise,” you said.

“i will not ask twice, but i do understand,” he said, smiling faintly.

benedict stood up from where he stood, picking up his umbrella as he did. “i hope to speak with you again soon.”

you watched him as he took the steps one at a time, careful to avoid the puddles of water. he was in no hurry.

your body acted before you had a moment to react—standing up, his name left your lips before you could stop it.

“benedict, wait!”

he looked back at you, eyes filled with curiosity—perhaps even a bout of hope that you would never willingly admit to yourself.

“thursday. i will be heading into the market for my lady, but i will be going alone,” you said, your lip catching in between your teeth as you nervously wrung your hands in front of you. “i will be leaving that morning if you would like to come with me.”

benedict began to smile, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “i will see you then,” he said.

in due time, the two of you only became closer. every secret, every whisper was shared amongst the two of you during secret rendezvous.

his mother became elated, knowing that her son had found a love match—but nothing more was said beyond that. your master kept a watchful eye on you, but he never once asked where you went during the night. you did your job without having to be reprimanded, and that was enough for him.

but you knew it was wrong. loving benedict, being his friend. dangerous.

not for you.

you would be fine.

but benedict would be ruined.

the ‘ton would look upon him the same way as they did the sharma family. another scandal would wreak havoc on the bridgerton family, and you wanted no part in that. but the heart doesn’t always ask for permission. the heart wants what it wants, and even if it can’t have it, it still yearns for it.

tonight, you found yourself clutching your coat just a little closer than usual as you stood in front of a grandiose door.

benedict had asked you to meet him there—a party, he said, with art and alcohol and people of all kinds.

you were starting to worry that it was all a joke—some crude lie from your best friend to get a rise out of you. he wouldn’t do that, would he? no, he wouldn’t.

your knuckles rapped against the wood, anxiety pooling in the pit of your stomach.

in an instant, the door was opened by benedict himself and he was pulling you inside, a smile wide against his lips.

“you came!” he excitedly spoke, letting the door fall shut. taking both of your hands, his face inched closer to yours.

you could smell his cologne—a soft scent of lavender and cedarwood. it was just as intoxicating as the last time you had been this close to the gentleman.

“come with me, there are some people i’d like you to meet,” he grinned.

along you went, your hand never once leaving his.

and once he had placed a glass of red wine in your hand, you had finally began to let loose. titles and nobility mattered not, and the people here certainly cared little that you were a servant.

benedict, most of all.

it had only taken a few glasses of wine for you to fully unwind. cheeks burning, body buzzing from the effects of the alcohol, mind jumbled with every worry, every confession.

as the party continued on, you couldn’t help but watch benedict from where you stood.

the man looked back at you with a smile.

“are you alright?” he asked.

you gave a small nod, swallowing the rest of the wine you had. you sat the glass down and took ahold of his hand.

“can we go some place? private, if you wouldn’t mind.”

benedict only nodded, granting your request as soon as you had asked it. he would have done anything for you.

in only a matter of minutes, benedict was shutting the door was a delicately decorated room. soft yellow curtains, the moonlight peaking in and casting a cold glow on the fire-illuminated room.

“what is it?” he asked. “are you truly well, y/n?”

you pursed your lips.

you needed him to know.

he was your best friend.

he had the right to know.

right?

“you are my best friend,” you began, your eyes not meeting benedict’s as you spoke.

you couldn’t look at him. not when he was staring at you in such a manner. his eyes were glued to your face, an unreadable expression masking his normally joyous composure.

“and you are mine,” he said, smiling softly.

“no, benedict, i—“

you squeezed your eyes shut. “you are my best friend, in that you are everything to me.”

it was most definitely the alcohol that was guiding your words and actions (that’s what you told yourself, anyway). but you couldn’t seem to care as the confession left you.

silence blanketed the room, nothing else heard besides the flickering of the fireplace and the occasional shout from the party just below.

benedict couldn’t believe what he was hearing. did he hear you correctly?

there was only one way to find out.

“then marry me,” he said.

your heart leapt to your throat. it was the alcohol.

it had to be the alcohol.

but he had had less than you.

was it the alcohol?

you paused slowly, turning to completely face him.

“what?”

he cracked a small smile.

“marry me.”

“it is not so simple, benedict,” you said lowly, voice barely above a whisper.

“why is it not?” he asked, reaching forward and gently grabbing your hands.

“why is it not?” you repeated, a solemn look on your face. your eyes betrayed you. you wanted to say yes so badly—he could see it. but you couldn’t. “you cannot be of earnest,” you said.

“my brother is the viscount and my sister a duchess,” he said. “who is to say what we can and cannot do?”

“you will be ostracized from society,” you countered. “you’ll be ridiculed.”

you gently squeezed his hands.

“ridiculed?” he chuckled softly. “you are my very best friend. and i care for you, deeply. i would face the world, happy to be ridiculed if it meant i would have you by my side.”

your cheeks burned at his confession. just a few simple words and he had your heart reeling for more.

you knew it wasn’t the alcohol. you were thinking clear as day.

“a true love match,” benedict suddenly said, his fingers lacing with yours as he spoke.

you paused, your convoluted mind coming to a complete halt as you stared at him.

“a true love match?”

he began to smile, an eager nod presenting itself.

“i… could love no other as much as i have loved you. you have taught me so… you’ve shown me what it means to be loved, no matter the status, the fortune, the name.” benedict’s hand reached up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “marry me, y/n. make me the happiest man of the ‘ton. you will never have to want for more—anything you want, you shall have. your best friend included,” he said, his smile wide. “it is as simple as that.”

“benedict…” you countered, but the argument you sought for never made it past your lips as he stared at you with those beautiful eyes.

“marry me,” he repeated, perhaps out of necessity. perhaps out of the anxiety that now raced against his heartbeat, wondering if he had said the wrong thing—had he gone too far? would you run away, never to look back at him?

he was a bridgerton. you were a humble servant.

but that changed nothing.

he loved you.

“you are willing to have the scandal of the season? of the century?” you whispered, peering up at him as nervous tears welled in your eyes.

“i am,” he said.

you let out a breath, lunging forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. your lips found his in an eager attempt to show your affection as his strong arms wrapped around your torso. he smiled into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut as he did so.

“i will marry you,” you muttered against his lips.

kiss after kiss was shared between the two of you.

only time would tell how truly irked the ‘ton would be, but for now, all that you truly cared about was the gentleman you held in your arms. nothing else mattered.

#reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral #gn!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #servant!reader #reader

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wyntr-thyms-2sh1ne · 6 months

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El Castillo de Encanto: Que Tú Eres Mi Destino

The Castle of the Enchantment: That You Are My Destiny

Each new gift given by the miraculous candle was meant to strengthen the community, strengthen the El Castillo de Encanto. To make the royal Madrigal family proud.

You work as a personal servant within the Royal Madrigal's family castle, but after the fall of the Castillo and rebirth of the miracle, your work plans change. Time to make the missing triplet feel at home once again.

The dictionary of my spanglish and bad timeline: - El Castillo de Encanto the casita in this version. - Reader is technically 22 years old. - I'm using a mix of a magical democratic monarchy and traditional Spanish, Colombian, and a dash of Downton Abbey

Chapter ambience: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLWbKf4YcAA

Fifty years ago, a newly widowed mother received a miracle. Pushed out of her home after the birth of her three children by the violent conflict of the Colombian civil war, she and her husband were forced to flee in hopes of finding a new home. Even as many joined them, they could not escape the dangers of warfare. The wife watched as her newly fathered husband was lost to the violence of war. But, even in their darkest moment, Alma Madrigal was given a miracle.

The candle she held became a magical flame that could never go out, and glowed brightly in that dark night. It blessed Alma Madrigal with a refuge in which to live. The magic made towering green, protective mountains over her and her people. It was a place of wonder, an enchantment. The miracle grew, creating a castle for her and her family to live in, El Castillo de Encanto. Their house, the castle itself, came alive to shelter them.

When her children came of age, the miracle blessed them with magic too. Passing down to them a magical gift to match the magical candle Queen Alma Madrigal was bestowed. And when their children came of age, that magic was passed through each generation. Together, the royal family's gifts have made the Encanto, truly, a paradise.

Each new gift given by the miraculous candle was meant to strengthen the community, strengthen the El Castillo de Encanto. To make the royal Madrigal family proud.

Each gift given to the Madrigal’s was just as special as they were.

~~~

When you wake up you do so to the sound of a ringing bell, loud and clanging to purposefully alert the women and men around you. You jump up so fast being so startled and smack your forehead on the wooden panel of the bunk above you. With a small hiss and rubbing your forehead, you stumble out of bed, grabbing at the clothes under your bed frame. The woman above you does too. Everyone around is scrambling to get their royal garb on, whispering in excitement.

Today we move back into El Castillo de Encanto! The Castle!

You had to admit how relieved you were. It was so cramped in this temporary arrangement the servants of the Madrigal family found themselves in while the magic was still weak. This was usually where the nuns from the church would stay.

Truly, a humble celibate life they live… You think to yourself as you use a silvery, shiny ribbon to quickly tie your hair into a low ponytail.

Ten years ago, the village of Encanto fretted over the state of the magic blessing when Mirabel Madrigal did not receive a gift like the rest of her family. Not even 24 hours later, one of the royal magical triplets in the second generation known as “Bruno, la maldición del destino” by most of the town, disappeared.

You were only 12 when this all happened, working alongside your parents as an apprentice of servitude. When you were 13, you were working alone without your parents anymore. You weren’t sure why they passed away so young.

You loved your parents. The Columbian political unrest was too much, most nights they could see the smoke billowing from other towns around them being lit aflame. When your mother got pregnant with you they had a hard decision to make, stay with their friends and family and be in their home, or leave to ensure the safety of their future daughter- you. They thought and thought until your mother was incredibly far along in her pregnancy and the smoke got closer and closer, until they could see orange in the village nearby. The flames licked upwards, burning the homes of innocent families. So, with nothing but a bag with a blanket and a mysterious letter that didn’t have a return address with directions, they set out to find the mysterious Encanto.

You still had that letter. You had practically memorized what it had written on it. In shiny golden metallic font, it stated, “The Encanto, home for anyone looking for refuge or a miracle. Follow the butterflies. Climb the forested mountain. It is waiting for you.” They did. Somehow, they told you, they found it. It was almost like being lost and blinking and suddenly realizing where you’re going. They walked by the butterflies they saw. They took the nights in the cover of the jungle forests. They hiked up mountains.

They actually saw the castle, and almost as if it was meant to be, your mother went into labor. You remembered sitting there and listening to this story as a child with wonder coursing through your veins. The magical royal family was alerted to them as newcomers, and they took pity on your mother and father. You were born inside the castle, brought into the world by none other than her Majesty Juileta Madrigal. The Madrigals favored your parents' perseverance and love for you as their daughter. They were personally assigned to be paid and housed as servants of the Madrigal family.

Which, in the Encanto, was a very good job many of the villagers would be envious of.

Your mother became Juileta’s personal servant. Your father, Bruno’s. You would remember how your mom would come back to the servants quarters with a smile on her face and a treat for you. Your father… Typically would come back looking worried and flop on his bed for a minute before winding down and being his usual self.

When you were 5 that was when the apprenticeship started happening. Nothing really like backbreaking work, the servants usually never had to do that. You followed in your parents footsteps and worked to be a personal servant. The Madrigals had servants for everything. Teachers, babysitters, clothes, cooking, training- anything! A passion could easily be followed. Like your mother and father, from a young age you really liked order. You liked cleaning, putting things in place, choosing outfits and hairstyles or decorating rooms to be more cozy.

When Mirabel came of age for her gift, and the ceremony was a disaster as she didn’t even get a gift, your mother and father seemed both distraught. Then, Bruno disappeared. Your father suddenly and immediately declined. He wouldn’t get up for his servant job from his bunk. He only spoke to you and your mother. You couldn’t even think of how many times he whispered “you know I love you, right?” to you and your mother every night. You knew he blamed himself for Bruno disappearing, perhaps. Maybe he thought he should’ve done a better job? You didn’t know. You were too young to know.

Your mother passed first, however. You remember her waking up really early that day and whispering “I love you mi luna” to your dad, kissing his cheek before leaving. You don’t know exactly what happened. You think maybe a stroke. But your mother passed while working, and it was so quick Juileta couldn’t get to her in time to heal her.

When your father heard the news he was devastated. He held you that night. When you woke up to get breakfast you came back to him cold, and lifeless, still in his bunk. You knew he died of a broken heart.

You wished to have a love like your parents. A marriage like them. But ever since they passed you have focused on working and being the most reliable servant in the Castillo. Because of that, at the ripe young age of 13 you were assigned to La Riena Alma’s biggest mess.

Mirabel Madrigal.

Her Queen Alma Madrigal found the gift-less grandchild to be a pain, invisible, not as special as the rest of the magical family. When she saw how hard you worked even at your age and everything that had happened she grew content with making you the girls permanent personal servant.

You didn’t complain.

By then she was 7. And Mirabel was the kindest, funniest, little girl you had ever met. You practically raised her. You studied with her after her educational servant would let her out for the day, you bathed her and made sure her hair was shiny, you cleaned her glasses and taught her how to step on every stone in the Castillo without putting a foot on a crack.

It broke your heart to see how badly Mirabel wanted to help the family even without a magical blessing like her siblings and cousins. You would go into town with her sometimes and watch the villagers practically ignore her. You hated it. But you tried everything in your power to make sure that Mirabel was happy, gift or no gift. She was special to you. A soul sister.

When you turned 18, because of how well you handled Mirabel, her majesty Queen Madrigal named you head of servants. Honored, and feeling privileged, you worked even harder. But despite everything you did it felt like the family tension with Mirabel and the hush hush about “ese desgraciado Bruno diablo” grew more and more.

Until the magic completely failed.

When Isabela Madrigal had a very unsuccessful, chaotic proposal from the village favored Guzman family son, Riena Alma ordered you to take all the servants away to a temporary housing arrangement at the church. She made sure to scream about how the magic is strong and the candle will never burn out.

It did.

The Castillo literally crumbled to the ground. Turned into a pile of rubble with barely known remnants of what was once a glorious castle. Mirabel disappeared. Horrified you spent hours with the Madrigals searching for her in this devastated state. The magic was gone, the blessing was no more, and it would seem only a miracle could fix the internal damage within the familia Madrigal and the hope of the villagers.

Thankfully. She did come back. On horseback, with her Abuela Alma and a figure no one ever expected to return.

Bruno.

Reunited with her family, Mirabel single handedly encouraged the entire Encanto to hope in miracles again. A month of hard work from everyone made the Castillo be rebuilt in the same glory it was before. And when Mirabel added the final touch of a doorknob, the miracle became restored. The bright golden lights and sparkles and swirls of colors that made their way up through the stone of the Castillo and rooted themselves in the ground under the whole village's feet was a sight to only behold in a state of awed wonder.

It was a day of celebration. You took Mirabel’s hands and danced with her in celebration, cheering, saying “I knew you could do it! You are so much more special than you realize!!” The new miracle bestowed another blessing on the land, one that united everyone in communication and a desire to be better and let go of the biases of the past and make a better future.

You blinked rapidly from your thoughts when your bunk mate called for you over her shoulder, “Hey! Líder sin miedo, c’mon! You’re going to be late moving into your ‘elite servant’ room!”

You laugh and sprint towards her and outside of the cramped sleeping quarters, “As long as I get top bunk this time!!!

~~~

Your joke earlier was meant as a joke and when you got to the castle everything went even more smoothly. Luckily, you did not need a bunk mate. Upon uniting with their respective Madrigal family members, each servant was either on the giving or receiving end of a magical hug.

Mirabel threw herself at you and you at her, both of you embracing in a fit of giggles, dancing from side to side in the tight hug. When the girl pulls away she pushes her glasses up her face and smiles at you as if she was still the humble, giftless girl she was before and not the restoration of a miracle.

Her humbleness still made her excitedly help you get settled into your quarters. They were nice. You had a room alone to yourself, with a queen sized bed and your own personal bathroom, bookcase, desk, wardrobe, and drawers. Mirabel didn’t shut up the whole time she helped you get moved in, excitedly talking about the magic and then moving on to the most surprising topic to most of the other servants.

Her tío Bruno.

She excitedly explained to you how he was “weird, but not like, weird weird like more like just kinda nutty weird not like super evil weird.” Which honestly made you chuckle a little.

“So master Bruno is awkward?”

“Yeah!” Mirabel lit up, still talking like a madman, which you loved. You really did like it when someone was excited to talk about something. It was sweet how passionate they would get. And you loved Mirabel, and so each nod and hum you gave in reply to her rambling was entirely genuine.

She explained how short Bruno was. How he lived in the abandoned dungeon and the walls of the Castillo, with his only friends being the rats in there. She even explained his embarrassing habit of using them to make his own little personal plays so he would be entertained all cooped up in there.

You giggled, only drawing on what your father’s experience was with him. He explained Bruno was always well meaning but prone to being really unlucky himself. He always tried to convince you as a young girl that Bruno wasn’t as scary as everyone made him seem.

Standing at 5’3, being 50 years old, and looking so skinny for his age- yup. You believed him and Mirabel well over the village folk and Camilo’s shallow seven foot interpretation of his uncle.

Mirabel went on to explain how much he loved the Encanto, the Madrigal monarchy itself, and each and every one of the family members. How he aided her in seeing the future to help save the miracle. She made sure to put a lot of emphasis on how he seemed to be the only adult she had ever met (“aside from present company, of course,” she made sure to add, winking at you) who treated her with respect. Like he understood her wishes and desires and demands and even if he was scared he knew what was for the best despite the wishes of the f amily to remain “fine”. After her emotional banter about him she got more into his appearance.

By then you were following behind her with your back straight, clasped hands held at your belly button height, resuming the perfect personal servant posture as you did before the collapse. Your tied up hair billowed behind you as you kept a strong, certain stride. You wanted to make sure you kept working that hard and pouring everything you had into this job even if the family seemed more lax. You were the Head of Servitude, after all.

“He has this crazy slouch. You know, like the kind you see little gárgolas standing in. Oh! And he always rings his hands or waves them around- real expressive with them, ya know?” Mirabel walked, talking to you over her shoulder, “He is all gangly like he doesn’t know where to put his limbs sometimes. You know what I mean- like a growing adolescente. He seems to not understand where to place his feet.” Mirabel walked the memorized path to her room, not stopping a moment during all of this, “When the castle was rebuilt he immediately went to bed. He wasn’t awake this morning if you didn’t see- in fact I bet he’s still in bed, durmiendo todo el dia, jeez, what an old man. Well I guess it’s not that big of a deal, he doesn’t really like using his gift anyways.”

When she stopped in front of her door she turned to you, a smile still on her happy little face. You chuckled, and spoke, “What a glowing review for your regio uncle.”

“I know right!” Mirabel giggled and moved her hips and legs so her brightly colored skirt swung back and forth. You stepped up next to her with a soft smile, making her turn towards her bedroom door and reach for the handle, “Now it’s your turn to help me move in!” She gave you a sly smile, knowing you would love this detail, “I need a lot of help decorating.”

Your eyes lit up in happiness, your face not revealing it in its entirety but a small smile did form on your lips.

You grabbed the door knob with her, “What are we waiting for then?!”

Mirabel laughed.

The next week went on with the Madrigal family settling back into the Castillo with as much grace and understanding under the new miracle Mirabel had created. Unfortunately, because Mirabel was the creator of this miracle you found yourself not her personal servant as often anymore. It meant you had to resume the extra duties of head of servitude (which, admittedly, were not as fun as goofing around with Mirabel all day).

You usually wake her up most days. It meant a good morning routine and a great way to start off the day as she would sing while you fixed her hair and tended to her curls. Her eyes would scrunch behind her glasses as you scolded her for being such a “wiggly worm” and “oruga tonta”.

So often her Majesty the Queen Alma Madrigal would come into Mirabel’s room in the morning. You would have to take a step back as your mistress would run up to her abuela and kiss her cheek and ask her how she slept. It was clear that they had repaired their relationship and were eagerly growing it as the days went on.

“Might I borrow the room, miss?” Reina Alma had asked of you on the first morning back in the saddle.

You bowed, “Yes your su Majestad,” You kept your head down in proper etiquette with your hands placed together at your midsection, walking past the queen with kindness.

You were anxious. Mirabel was whisked away more and more by her grandmother, and while you were so excited for her you knew what it meant. Less time with you! What you saw as your little sister was finally growing up and it pained you a little. You didn’t know why. You practically felt like her second mom. You watched her grow from lost in the world to understanding her place.

Perhaps you wished to continue to have that life guidance for her. It gave you a lot of meaning.

When Mirabel was advising her grandmother, you busied yourself with the other tasks demanded of your head of servitude job. That included but was not limited to meal preparations, cleaning, making beds, washing laundry, explaining to Camilo that he has to understand that he cannot go into the female servants quarters even if he was “technically a female servant right now”, and finding meaningless ways to make even more spaces within the Castillo aesthetically appealing.

There were a few times in that week you would reorganize a room just for the heck of it to give you some purpose, and Castillo’s tiles and walls would shift, rattling and making a satisfying domino effect, pushing the furniture back into its proper places. This was often accompanied by a sigh, because you knew Castillo could tell you weren’t doing it for your job, but rather, for your own fulfillment.

It was getting boring. You loved your job, but it seemed without purpose. Mirabel was growing up and doing what she was born to do- be the real miracle.

You found yourself often going back to Julieta or Agustin during this time to assist them- Agustin because he was always clumsy and needed help with something, Julieta because you could never shake the feeling that she felt like “mom”. About halfway through the week, an interesting conversation happened in the kitchen.

“Agustin appreciates the attention you’ve been giving him despite the fact he already has three personal servants to keep him out of trouble,” Julieta smiled at you, her down turned brown eyes warm as you mixed dough, her hands busy kneading it.

A lot of servants helped her cook, and they all bustled around with ingredients and bowls and utensils of all kinds. The smell in the kitchen was amazing, absolutely estupendo.

“Of course la dama, anything to help the amazing Madrigals,” You replied, smiling at her work. What a unique gift. All she needed to do was lay her hands on the food at some point or another in the process and have it possess that healing power.

“You might need to get used to it,” Daniela, a kitchen maid, skidded past, only a few years older than you. She put a bowl into the oven, using the fireplace poker to make sure the heat stayed consistent on the food, “I’ve heard Mirabel and her Majesty Reina Alma are getting close. Almost like she is her heiress.”

You paused, shooting her a glance as Julieta chuckled and shook her head a little, “Mamá still has some kick in her and Mirabel is still only a child, una adolescente, she’s just 15. That won’t be happening soon.” She looked down, and you noticed despite her words she had a giant, proud, motherly smile on her face for her daughter. Always in her corner, just like you.

“Still,” María, the second kitchen maid and Julieta’s own personal servant, butted in, “Soon to become a royal advisor I’m sure of it.” The older woman set a cutting board down and began to carefully chop up some fresh cilantro, “Perhaps even her own personal asesora real, considering all the advice she's giving Her Reina already,” María sounded more logical, as if stating the simple facts. She glanced up to look between you and Julieta.

“Probably due to be on the royal court this week alone,” Daniela chirped, ever the dramatic gossiper.

“I’d hope,” You burst, finally speaking up. You beat the liquids and powder in the bowl in front of you with much unbridled vigor that it became mixed as one within seconds, touching the rim and coating one of your thumbs with the batter, “After all these years pushing her to the wayside they finally recognize her talent- oh no! No longer a pequeña oruga, eating up resources and an unpleasant sight. But no, now she's a una hermosa mariposa, glowing with a new miracle… As if she wasn’t already and wasn’t that always!”

The kitchen completely stills. Both maids and her majesty Juileta all stare at you and the paused image of your aggressively beaten batter and downcast gaze.

You take your hands off the bowl, lower your head so your scalp is visible to the royal Madrigal in the room, bowing with your hands clutched at your midsection, “I beg your pardon mi señora, I don’t know what got into me.”

Julieta gives you a small, sympathetic look. She nodded to her two other maids, and both resumed their duties as if not being bothered at all. She turned to you, putting a gentle, caring hand on your tense shoulder, “My dear, levanta la cabeza,” she put a hand under your chin and tilted it up to meet her eyes, “Let’s have a moment, shall we? To the pantry, let’s go.”

Julieta led you with a hand on your back in the most mothering way you could imagine, whispering, “Danos un momento, ladies,” to her maids as she took you into the pantry closet, closing the door behind her.

The smell of spices, fresh herbs, and dried meats and proteins hit your nose the moment you were inside. You turned to her majesty, scrambling, “I’m so sorry. I feel she is slipping away from me-”

“Shh! Shh…” Julieta gently calmed you, rubbing soothing circles on your back, “Honey, I would know how you’re feeling. I’m her mother. Mirabel deserves this, yes, but it feels so whip-lashed for sure.. One moment she comes crying to your side and now she is the heart of the Encanto, what keeps the magic breathing and alive..” she gazed proudly at nothing in particular, before blinking rapidly and looking back at you. “But I know you, and I know this is more than that.”

You sigh softly, “I just… if she moves on, gets all this power and fulfillment… mine will go. What will I do as my job? Will I ever be happy in my job again?” You shrug then turn your head to the side, not meeting Juileta’s gaze, “Would I have to resign as head of servitude? Leave my job?”

“Gracious mija! Calm down…” Julieta frantically grabbed one of your hands, making your head turn back to her.

She gave a worried look, lips pursed and one corner pushed up. Her warm chocolate colored eyes gazed at you for a moment, making sure you were calm and adding extra comfort by being warm and assuring, before she continued to speak, “We all love you here in the Castillo.” She squeezed your hand softly, “If you were to leave I’m sure the other servants and half of the Madrigal’s ourselves would riot-“

This caused you to laugh a little, making Julieta’s smile grow a little bigger. She went on, “You were destined for this, I held you in my hands as an adorable bebita right here in the walls of the El Castillo de Encanto, and you love it! Why leave?”

“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen and I feel out of control,” you breathed, rushing it out as you gazed at Julieta genuinely. Your brows were furrowed so tight in fear of the admittance and the vulnerability you were in at that moment. You knew your forehead wrinkles probably look ridiculous looking back on it.

Julieta stared at you a moment, her eyes almost looking confused before they lit with a spark of understanding, “Ah…” She brought you in for a hug, “Oh mija… do not carry that on your shoulders… you were a little girl… there was no way you could control anything…”

You knew she was talking about your mom and dad.

“You think… that’s where this started?”

“Yes bebita,” she pulled away from the hug with a small smile, “It was how your mother and father coped too. When they were stressed they ran to control.. rules and order. Sí, I think that’s it for you. You like to feel in control because you felt so out of control when that happened. I’m letting you know right now you can relax, honey. The Madrigal’s and Mí Sobregoneta Familia will always take care of you. Come, come, let’s finish cooking dinner-“

You nodded, trying to lean into her words. It made sense in your head but your stomach felt uneasy still. However, logically you knew her majesty was right. Julieta could read you as if you were one of her own daughters.

By the time dinner had been served your rapidly beating heart had quieted and your mind was at a little bit more ease.

However, your boredom and lack of personal servitude would soon come to a screeching halt.

“I now announce you as his majesty Bruno Madrigal’s personal servant.”

Queen Alma Madrigal was smiling with her chin up, crown glistening, and back straight with each of her hands placed together in front of her.

You looked similar. A perfect straight back with knees slightly bent in a bow and knuckles white from gripping your hands together at your middle. However, you didn’t have a smile. You knew your eyes were big and face drained of color.

That morning started out how it usually did. How it always did. Waking Mirabel up and singing with her as you gently put oils into her curly hair. You decided to brush it back and keep the top of her hair in a cute little ponytail. The sun was warm, and her giggles were sweet, and she had no malicious intentions in her eyes behind those green glasses while she excitedly exclaimed she had a surprise for you.

When Reina Alma entered the room you bowed as you usually did, not a wrinkle in your skirt nor a stutter in your posture. However, it was when they both opened their mouths and had you rise from your bow that things got very very off schedule.

More so, completely flipped around.

And now her majesty Queen Alma Madrigal has assigned you a whole new job after the one you had exclusively been in since you were a teenager.

“Oh geez please don’t look like that!” Mirabel walked over to you and grabbed your upper arms, making you look at her. She gave her usual dorky smile, “This is literally perfect for you!”

“Mí mijo,” Alma stepped forwards, whispering as she took a more casual stance with you- something so surprising since the Queen really, really cared about her royalty and the whole strict regime that went with it, “He’s… Struggling. He is always late to family dinner. He’s not getting up on time. He’s too nervous to use his gift and to go out into town. We have tried what we can to convince him, and he…” she stopped, swallowing, looking at her granddaughter.

The bright butterfly continued for her royal family member, “He refuses a personal servant. I think he’s just shy. Maybe embarrassed. And probably really scared.” She smiled at you softly, pushing up her glasses and continuing, “He really needs some order and routine right now.”

Okay, now she was clearly trying to cater to you.

Queen Alma stepped forward and stooped down a little to your eye level so you could see her scalp, placing her royal, magical hand on your shoulder and it made you feel so humbled. However, she herself humbled instead, looking into your eyes and meekly begging, “You did such a wonderful job making sure Mirabel grew up, despite my best efforts, knowing she was good enough and could be happy.” You relished a little bit in how the Queen openly admitted her faults when it came to Mirabel, and you relished even more in the small, soft, warm smile the two shared after her words. “You are so talented and wonderful at what you do. You clearly care for the El Castillo de Encanto, the magic itself, and our family. Extend your helping hand to me, once again, but allow me to ask for the betterment this time,” Alma moved to stand up straight, putting her hand under your chin with her fingers curled in so only the knuckle of her pointer finger gently nudged your chin upwards too, “Mí Brunito needs you. I believe your magic touch-“ her lips curled in a small smile making you smile too- “will break him out of his shell and let him relax in his new life. I want more than anything to let my son know he is valued by the Encanto, by our blessing, by our family, and more so, to be proud of himself the way I am now so much more proud of him.”

You let out a sigh exclusively from your nose, shutting your eyes for a moment.

Everything made sense. You had to let go of Mirabel. She is grown up now. You were being put in a position where you were needed most.

You thought of your dad. How he used to take care of Bruno. How he implored people to be kinder, how he saw his master and friends true nature and how it deeply distressed him when nobody would see it too.

You thought of what happened when Bruno disappeared.

You opened your eyes. You wanted to fulfill the legacy set before you by two people just as loving and passionate as you were.

You have a small nod, looking between both of the Madrigals, “I would be honored to take his majesty Bruno Madrigal as my master.”

Both of them smiled. Soon, there were four arms wrapped around you in a hug.

In the distance you heard the faint noise of sand in the wind.

Fair warning, future chapters will have smut. 18+ I will tag it when it's appropriate Correct me on any spellings, bad grammar, and ESPECIALLY on poor translation. Thoughts? Feelings? If you have none: what kind of royal would *you* be?

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scara-writes · 17 days

Text

paramour

Yandere!Cheating Duke X Duchess! Reader X Yandere!Lover Servant

I just want to write a reader who has the same/more power as/to the yandere(s).

The setting is still in the fantasy/manhwa world, medivial, any setting as long it's not modern.

CW: two yandere, rivals, cheating, consent smut, infidelity.

I'm making the darling a little more forward(?), daring, more power or that can go against a yandere. Atleast, that's what the darling thinks. Also, this is not polished like my other stories.[ Forgive me, I'm not good with smuts! I also love y'all comments and your ask/request(will answer them soon!). The Yandere Emperor and Yandere Crown Prince son really outnumbered the yandere Omega. Y'all are crazy for that!]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Mistress." He murmured. His arms hadn't let go off your waist. It was the first thing your eyes landed on when the sunlight came in to greet a new day from the window balcony. You closed your eyes again to find your way back to sleep again.

Your hands went to trace his back full of scar last night from your nails. You hummed when he gave you a pepper kisses on your exposed skin.

"Morning." He gave you one last kiss on your lips before snuggling between your chest. His arms hadn't move around your waist since last night."Mmmh..morning..." You muttered looking away—eyes still close—from the sun when it kissed your face.

"Do you want me to call the maids to serve you breakfast?" His sweet voice lull to sleep more. You whispered no. Last night, this man gave you something akin to that of heaven, something your husband never gave you.

Last night, you made love with this man. The same man you rescued from the human trafficking, kidnapping commoner from the outskirts of the kingdom. Now, indebted by your kindness he devout himself to you with his life.

You groaned, feeling your body is aching all over. This goes not unnoticed by your lover."Did I hurt you to bad?" He asked. His earth orbs are gleaming with shine and now getting filled with tears. "I-I'm sorry, I was rough with you mistress." His voice full of regret and loathe on himself.

You opened your eyes, ruffling his curly brown hair before stroking it. Staring down at his eyes. "No. You did good." You smiled at him, cupping his face, before kissing him in the lips. He whimpered,deepening his into yours.

The intoxication of alcohol must have taken over you. Drowning yourself from alcohol after your husband didn't arrive on the scheduled date, you waited for him for a whole day to arrive. Alone in the gazebo, Everett was the one who went to your weeping figure. That was a month ago. Everett offered himself to shower you with his love. At first you feel reluctant about this, you will never be the type of person to use someone just so you can feel yourself happy. Everett didn't care about it whether you use him or not. He wanted to prove himself that you are worth to be love. This man made your heart flutter in a way that your husband once gave you before the marriage.

"I-I love what happened last night, my mistress." He whispered bashfully, his pretty swollen lower lip,you bitten hard last night, went to reach his eyes giving you a wide smile. The sun kissed his tan face adding a charming look. His neck has full of bites and bruises from you. His cheeks become a little darker shade from blushing, he must have reminisced something last night.

Now, you made him your lover. Though not completely in love with Everett. You also shower him with items or materials that most commoners would love to have but it doesn't seem like this man is materialistic. He just wants you.

You didn't hide Everett to your husband.

What's the use of hiding your fling to Theodore when he was the first one to cheat on this marriage?

Despite being loyal to that man you loved. He had the audacity to tell you that you shouldn't pry on his private his life after you confronted him with a newly hired maid going out. "Our marriage contract states that the two parties should not meddle one another's private life else this contract shall be annuled."

So all of his flexing his love for you was nothing but a hoax? A show? A lure for you to agree to marry him?

Though, your marriage with him was for the politcial marriage. You once fell in love with Theodore. The same man who gave you flowers everytime you two date, the same man who kissed in your cheeks after he walk you home, the same man who always writes poems about his devotion to you. Did he pursuade you to continue this marriage by making you love him so that the two duchy became one? It may seem like you wanted this marriage at first. You didn't, your family wanted it and they have asked you—no annoyingly, they plead you to marry him, because your parents and his parents signed a contract that their children will reunite the two duchy.

"Your ladyship, the duke asked for your audience to join him in the breakfast." Your butler from the other side of your room, outside the door, knocked and speaks after. You frown upon hearing it, looking at the closed door, what does he want?

You feel strange about your husband nowadays. He had been asking for your presence this past few days. Never once he called for you after your wedding with him.

You clicked your tongue and turn to look at your lover. You saw Everett's face was frowning too. "Fine, tell him I'll be there." You announced to the butler. You look back at the man leaning his weight on you. You tap the curly haired lover to let you go from his hold yet he didn't budge after moving yourself to sit up instead you heard yourself going 'oomfh!' and find your lips were on his again. You groaned while he moaned weakly. He pushed you down on the bed, his lips never leaving yours until you were out of breath. A string of saliva trailed between your mouths. Everett was smiling before diving his lips into your skin, to one of your chest, fondling the other. You feel a little ticklish and panting at his stimulation. "Eve—! Wait! Ah..." Your voices went unheard, The male's mewling sucking on to your flesh like thirsty man who hadn't had a drink.

Your hand went to tug his hair as you moaned out his name. "Shi—Eve... Oh! S-stop... Ah.."

His other hand goes to put one of legs above his back and parted the other leg, accessing himself between you even more."m-mistress!"

You groaned when you felt him grind between you. He looked at you with a pleading eyes, he look like he will cry again, the tears filling up yo the side from his eyes. "M-mistress." He whined his mouth was already in another mound. You feel his hardness between. "p-please? I'll be good! Please... huff..I'll make y-you feel good!"

Your eyes are hazy from the pleasure. "You want.. hah... it?" His eyes getting filled again with tears. You tug him by the hair not enough to hurt him. You landed your lips on his ears. Panting and breathless when you felt his hands is still fondling your body. "You got..ngh... to earn it, pretty boy." You murmurs made him whimpered. "You have to be my good boy... Are you my good boy?"

He nod, a tear fell down to his cheeks, he leaned down to your lips, murmuring, i-am-your-good-boys, thank-yous and I-love-yous.

The room filled with noises that could make anyone flustered and uncomfortable. You didn't realize from your high you are feeling that the butler is coughing uncomfortably behind the door excusing himself as he will inform the duke what you told him earlier.

You went down the stairs with a difficulty, aching between your thighs. You can't find any dress to cover the one hickey on your neck, Everett apologize and helped you cover it with a foundation but it failed horribly from covering seeing that the foundation wasn't blend well and you do not want your maids do it for you. Not when you found out that almost all of them had already been with your husband. You were planning to replace them sooner.

You stopped at the closed door leading to the dinning room. The butler from earlier straightened his posture, clearing his throat after he saw you. He announced your presence behind the door opening the door for you."My lord, your ladyship is here."

You walked in after thanking one of the male servant for pushing the seat for you once you sit across the lord of the household, your husband, the Duke.

The breakfast before you was served cold. If you have arrived earlier you could have eaten warm. You glance at your husband, surprised that his plate has not been finished and it looked like he didn't touched it. You noticed his eyes is trained on to you since you came in, yet his eyes isn't on you but to your neck and the way you walk earlier.

His grey eyes seemed to be narrowing, he scoffed. "You're late."

You glance away, picking one of the utensil, stabbing the meat, landing it to your mouth chewing it. You gulped it down before taking another bite. The marinated pork seems to be delicious even if the breakfast a little no warm.

"It seems you are enjoying with your toy a little too much." He added, there was anger rising beneath his voice.

Oh, the egg is a little bland but it is still edible nonetheless.

"There are more new reports about your speculated infidelity to the public. Do you know that?"

You looked at him after eating the last piece of the sunny side egg, smiling: finally acknowledging hus presence."Yeah, what about it? It's not like it will ruin our marriage. After all, you had a numerous of headlines about your 'rumored' infidelity too. Did our contractwas nulled after that? It didn't right?"

"(Y/n)."

"Yes, husband?"

His eyes widened a little before going back on giving you death gaze. "Kick that slave away. I don't like him." He demanded. Though he wasn't shouting. You frowned, how dare he?

"Why would I? It's my decision whether I choose to throw him out or not." Your voice getting a little louder.

"I do not want him near my property." He complained, gritting his teeth at the last word.

"This is my property as well!" You talk back.

There was silence between the room.

"... I... don't want him near you." You heard him. You blinked at the sudden word that blurted in his mouth.

You scoff standing up, "I think I had my fill..." You starts walking back to where you enter the room.

"(Y/n)." Theodore called you. You didn't observe the way his eyes longed for you. You were focus on the anger within you. "Are we forgetting something, Theodore?" You questioned.

He pondered, those orb you used to love held a confusion.

"Meddling into your partner's private life will annul this marriage... Wasn't that written in our contract?" You bitterly told him. "Sounds familiar right? Do not dare demand me to throw away Everett." You added.

Finally waiting for this moment for this to happen. Guess he will get to taste his own medicine.

"... As long as we do our part in this household we will act as husband and wife. Is not that what you told me?"

"..."

"Now then, I will excuse myself. I have no longer desire to finish my breakfast here." With that, you leave him there.

When you reach the door, opening it, you were surprise to see Everett waiting outside. "What are you doing here?" You asked him. Your frowned face was replaced with a confusion look before giving him a small smile. The man infront of you return your smile with a small grin, placing one of his arm on your waist."W-well, I feel bored and alone in my own room. So I found myself waiting here w-with the butler. Besides I saw you walking wobbly earlier and I-I am concerned that you might have even more difficulty walking... So f-forgive me for not staying put." The look concern on his face adding the pout from his lips made him look cute.

"What are you a puppy?"You poke his nose giggling as you walk away with him, your eyes went back to talk to the butler. Telling him you want to continue your breakfast at your garden, asking him to make it for a two people. The butler bowing to your order before going to the kitchen area to order the maid.

Your husband on the other hand, loath with rage and jealousy mixing under his eyes. His eyes narrowed especially when the slave you brought in leaned on top of your head kissing at the crown part of your head, leaning to your ear to whisper something akin to sweet talks. The arm around your waist went rub your back.

If only you glance again on Everett's face. You would have caught him giving your husband a smug smirk.

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bunny-yan · 6 months

Note

can you write more about the yandere king pls

TW:non-con touching, imbalanced power dynamics, implied violence, mentions nudity, minors DNI

—

“Yes, your highness.”

He couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at the edges of his lips.

An order given, command received, and your response?

“Yes, your highness.”

Sweet, sweet words that dripped like honey in his ears.

It didn’t matter that he’d heard those words from the day the goddess decided to bless his life givers with their only son. His birthright. Servants, nobles, and foreign royalty alike uttered the same words, but when they came from your lips they sounded like poetry. Obedience from lips that were his, head bowed, your subservience an oath. Your words, your vow.

The order wasn’t important.

He could tell you to crawl around on the floor, on your hands and knees and you would stay there until he was bored. He’d told you to remove that pesky clothing and although your hands were hesitant, your demeanor reluctant, you obeyed.

“Yes, your highness.” would come your quiet reply. Movements methodical, clothes slowly fell into a heap around your feet until there was nothing left to remove.

He never did understand why you bothered to hide your nakedness. It was hard to believe that you were still shy knowing he’d already seen everything. Already experienced the taste of your skin, ingrained your smell into his memory. Maybe you didn’t like the way his eyes stared as if he was gazing into your very soul. Maybe you felt vulnerable, exposed and cold. Maybe you simply liked having him order you around, liked whispering the same words that had him crossing his legs and resting his head in his head. From his seat he observed you, lounging as if arrogance was his second skin.

You wished he would get it over with. It was a usual undeserved punishment. You no longer bothered to guess what mistake landed you in this position, but that didn’t stop you from wondering if it was because you had taken too long to retrieve the pen from his study, lingering away from his presence longer than you should have, or if it was because you’d brushed across that nobleman the two of you passed when the two of you went on your daily walk. There were no obvious signs of his anger or irritation, so he could be doing this simply for his own amusement. It didn’t matter because the result would always be the same. This agonizing slow torture, meant to degrade you, to put you in your place, to show you just how little control you had in your own life. Sometimes it felt more painful than the bruises he would leave.

The silence only made it more unbearable.

You felt his eyes sweeping over your body, taking his time as they dissected you.

Could he see the way you would tense, trying to remain as still as possible so his eyes wouldn’t be tempted to stare longer? Did he notice the goosebumps that spread like a plague lasting as long as you resisted the urge to shudder from the chill that gripped your spine?

Your back was locked straight, hands resisting the urge to clench into fists as they rested flat on your thighs, feet together. You didn’t hunch over, though it was hard to avoid when you were neglected the basic protection you could offer yourself. You stood straight, not giving him a chance to elicit that disgusting response.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The words were empty, coming from a doll rather than a person.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Reminding you time and time again of the words you couldn’t say. The orders you weren’t allowed to disobey. You never knew how much embarrassment, how much fear, how much resentment could build from three simple words.

Your gaze snapped to his feet when he uncrossed his legs, body tensing before you could think of what he’d do. Of what he’d subject you to this time, but you felt an undeniable disgust at the fear he invoked in you and at the sight of one leg lifting over the other as he settled back into that comfortable position and continued to watch you without a word. You were thankful that your head was bowed, because you were unsure you would be able to properly maintain a plain expression.

“Turn around.” he called, speaking as an intrigued spectator.

The display obeyed.

You couldn’t make it too quick or else he would make you do it over again. Goddess forbid you insinuate you want to get it over with. You would be standing in the same spot until your knees were ready to give out and even then, he would only be oh, so helpful to assist. If that meant you had to stand directly in front of him with your hands braced against the arms of his chair, feeling every breath he took, you would remain there until he was finished.

You took small, shuffling steps, feelings of awkwardness and foolishness remaining as a tiny spark despite the many incidents you underwent to grow use to this treatment. You didn’t stumble as your feet tangled in the clothes beneath your feet, grateful to save yourself the embarrassment as you completed the rotation he asked for. You didn’t have a chance to settle before he was giving you another order. A gross hope that he was ready to end this filled you as quiet steps led you directly in front of him.

You couldn’t avoid his eyes when you were so close. It’d always bothered you how collected he remained despite his callous treatment.

Holding up a hand, he expended no effort as he said, “My glove.”

You nodded, continuing to avoid the gaze drilling holes into your eyes. One hand landed on his wrist, his gaze broiling with something you tried to ignore as your other hand plucked at the cloth on each finger before slipping the accessory off of his hand.

There was no acknowledgement other than the bare hand that rested itself on your hip. You gripped the glove in your hand, tensing before you could force yourself to remain relaxed. He didn’t notice or he didn’t care as his thumb kneaded into your hip.

“You’ve lost weight.” he commented, grateful that he didn’t look to you for a reply. It was difficult enough to mindlessly follow orders, having to think of a way to soften an explanation for your tormentor was hell.

What would you say? Because of course it wasn’t his fault. He only wanted what was best for you, especially if that meant you would need to be disciplined. If you were locked in a room without food or water for a couple of days for shying away from his touch, it was your own fault. If your punishment continued because you didn’t beg and plead for forgiveness, content to endure instead of giving him the willing affection he so desperately craved, it was your own fault. What he asked for was not difficult to achieve. It was painfully simple.

Do what he said, when he said it without any indication of rebellion and you would be fine. But those pesky little habits of avoiding his eyes and leaning away, that annoying flinching that you still had yet to shake only made him give more difficult orders. His demands growing with his frustration.

His hand slid up the side of your body until it rested at the top of your ribs, sliding across your body and tracing patterns in the dips and curves he found.

He couldn’t deny that a part of him that enjoyed the side of you that tried to resist him.

It was a waste of time, but the lack of understanding you had created an unpredictability in your behavior that was enticing.

How you would gamble and how he would punish you. It was a cycle he couldn’t get tired of.

“Are you cold?” he asked, a small smile dancing across his lips.

It was a question with no right answer.

“Yes, your highness.” His smile only grew.

Drawing his hand away, he spread his arms, beckoning you to come closer.

Again, you hesitated, aggravating his displeasure. He held back the urge to snatch you closer, needing to control himself if you were going to fully face your punishment.

He was patient, noting the way you took your time, avoiding his touch until the very last moment until you were unsettled in his lap.

Arm wrapping around your waist he gave you no time to prepare as a hand slid between your legs. You let out a gasp, your body instinctively jerking away, but he held you tighter, ordering you to be still. You turned your head, pushing your face past his shoulder so he wouldn’t see your flushed face.

You tried to think about something else, anything else so you could get your mind off of his demanding fingers, and strangely enough an old memory surfaced, one you’d long since forgotten in your time of servicing your prince, now king.

You’d rarely enter the King’s study. Not only were you responsible for his son, the prince who resided in the Eastern domain, you being the lowly servant that you were had no business being anywhere near the King’s palace. But today was different. You had documents that your father needed for his duties and as the King’s butler, the first place you went to look was where the King would naturally be.

You were anxious at the thought that you had to appear if only a moment before the King, only growing more so at the lack of guards in front of the King’s door. With no one to announce your presence, you debated whether you should knock and after hearing muffled voices and noticing a crack in the door, curiosity and the lack of watchful eyes led you to peek in.

A sense of pride overwhelmed you at the sight of your father serving the King. You’d always wanted to be like him when you were younger. But it froze, heavy in your gut when you watched your father bend to pour tea into his majesty’s cup. You thought nothing of the hand that came up, the same hand that brushed across your father’s cheek.

You questioned what you’d seen. Maybe it was a mistake, but it was soft, gentle even and regardless of the excuses you came up with in your mind it didn’t sit right with you. You stared at your father’s undisturbed face, stolid as the King spoke words too soft for you to hear,but your father’s response melted the anxiety you felt into undeniable dread.

“Yes, my King.”

You couldn’t remember if you’d given him the documents you needed. You don’t remember anything apart from leaving, nothing the prince doing or saying that day able to shake you out of your stupor.

Despite the resentment you felt for your king, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the goddesses blessing in disguise.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere male #ask #gn reader #king!yandere #yandere king x servant reader

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misstycloud · 1 year

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Yandere servant

Yandere!servant who is loyal to you only. Of course he has to listen to others in your family, otherwise he'd lose his job, but your word will always be his priority.

Yandere!servant who is eternally grateful that you took him in as a young orphan boy with no place to go. No one else wanted a filthy boy at their doorstep and turned him away instantly when they saw him standing there and asking for shelter. You were different though. You didn't throw rock at him or call him bad things.

Yandere!servant who can help you with anything. To repay you, he has made sure to be educated in various topics. Don't ask him how he learned all those things. It won't be what you think.

Yandere!servant who is at your beck and call. He’ll do whatever you order him to.

Yandere!servant who hates when you smile to the other servants. Why are you paying attention to them? They’re all useless. Bet they can’t even mop the floor properly while he had the ability to do numerous tasks.

Yandere!servant who wants you to only use him for your needs. He wants to clean your room, give you advice, help with documents and accompany you everywhere.

Yandere!servant who can only dream of being with you. Your relationship would never be accepted by society. A noble and a common street rat; it couldn’t work.

Yandere!servant who personally didn’t care about status, but what he thought didn’t matter to the higher class. Besides, he didn’t know what you’d think of those relationships and wouldn’t wish for you to be uncomfortable.

Yandere!servant whose sole chance of having a future with you is to attain a higher title. He definitely could with his intelligence. Perhaps he could invest in business among other things.

Yandere!servant who has to quit working for you in order to become successful and marry you. Despite the years it would undoubtedly take, he would remain faithful to you and always carry you in his thoughts.

Yandere!servant who will come back outstanding; someone worthy of your hand.

#oc #obsessed #yandere #male yandere #possesive #yandere oc #toxic #bad relationships #short story #yandere boyfriend #misstycloud oc #yandere servant #noble reader #noble reader x servant #yandere servant x reader #yandere x reader

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bones-of-a-rabbit · 3 months

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you: exists eclipse, sun, moon, anyone with taste: BEAUTIFUL, STUNNING, GORGEOUS,

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emelinstriker · 22 days

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just gonna drop these from yesterday's vc on the discord server lmao

#eternal servants au #doodle #lmk x reader #sun wukong x reader #esau x reader #esau wukong #esau nezha

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garbagechocolate · 4 months

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Did I ever post this

#trashlate #micah #m/c #bloodmoon #bloodmoon fnaf #fnaf bloodmoon #bloodmoon x reader #assassin bloodmoon #servant of evil au #au #art #digital art #oc art #oc #doodle #doodles

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flower-cage · 1 month

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To Serve

by @flower-cage Ao3 | Masterlist Aemond Targaryen x Servant!Reader Summary: That morning, the crown Prince entered the young Queen's chambers and changed your life forever.

Words: 3,768

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dubious consent, power imbalance, humiliation kink, voyeurism.

A/N: Here's that random smut I was talking about (two weeks off-schedule rip). It is not as edited as my other pieces, thus much cruder, and I enjoyed not stressing over every single word on it. I just let the story guide my writing hand and had fun with it! I hope you enjoy it too! Minors, do not interact.

Your new role of serfdom started not unlike that of attending to the needs and whims of the Dragons. Up before dawn, you ensured that dresses were washed and perfumed, jewelry and shoes polished. In the late morrow, you served tea to the Queen and her mother. At luncheon, you would have taken the chance, in their absence, to clean and tidy their chambers, had it not been for your newest promotion.

That morning, while his sister and mother broke their fast, the crown Prince entered the young Queen’s chambers and changed your life forever.

He had always paid you close attention. In truth, only seldom were you ever in the presence of the one-eyed Prince, but whenever chance brought you together, you felt his lingering, insistent gaze on the hairs in the back of your neck. Always.

It did not take long for others to take notice of it, too. Often the maids would tease you for the interest you had awakened in the Prince known to be harsh and cold and cruel like a winter storm.

“You are fortunate he does not take after his brother’s depraved malversations,” you would often hear.

This was what the whole of Westeros knew of him back then, before the Dance.

That morning, you had twisted your hands in your apron, standing outside his door and garnering the strength to raise one of them to the wooden slabs.

“It is unlike my son to show interest in a lady,” the Dowager Queen had told you, clinking a silver teaspoon against fine porcelain, “or anyone at all, for that matter.”

Your guts knotted of their own accord. Your spine shuddered cold.

“I would like you to tend to his needs from now on,” she had announced easily, breaking apart a piece of crusty bread. “All of his needs.”

Now, you often wonder if she would have offered you so unashamedly if she had known he would mature into such an unscrupulous man. Or, you wonder most often, perhaps she had always known. Perhaps she had hoped he would satisfy his dormant savagery, then inhibited by a pretense of duty and propriety, if only she delivered him a feast before it fully wakened.

And feast he would, though his hunger would never be sated.

In the end, he would teach you everything you learned of this world of carnal indulgences.

He had risen leisurely from his seat of leather, strode to you lazily, smiled self-assuredly. You stood stoic, hands fidgeting and sweating behind your back, a half-step away from his chambers’ door after courage and fear had finally coaxed you past it.

He stalked toward you until his nose brushed yours faintly and your back rested against the cold wood. His eye roamed you freely, his masculine scent of leather and cedar crowded your senses, and your body shuddered beneath his desirous stance.

“I shall not take that which is not freely given,” his whisper tickled the shell of your ear, “and I shall not award what is not yet desired.”

His promise stretched on for days on end.

You tended to him much like you had his sister: tending to his chambers, washing his clothing, learning his habits. You served him wine at supper and tea in the morrow. You dressed him before Small Council meetings and bathed him after his daily practices.

Until you didn’t.

“Prince Aemond requests your services,” a familiar knight announces after rapping on the door.

You rise from where you have been sitting at your vanity table, combing your hair to a shine as is your Prince’s preference. You fix the sleeves on your dress, but it does not grant you any decency whatsoever, not when its translucent, iridescent silk ostensibly reveals the shape and shades of your bare body, not when the slit that travels up your right thigh cuts up to your hip bone.

Such are and have always been your Prince’s preferences.

“Where is your uniform?” he asked you sternly when you met him at the training grounds.

He took the cup of fresh water from the tray you carried, gulping down its contents to then wipe his face and short hair with the towel you brought him.

“M-my Prince?” you asked timidly, breathless at the abrupt inquiry and at the sweat that glistened his pale skin.

“The dresses I gifted you,” he pressed, displeased. “I thought I made myself clear - you are to wear them henceforth. You are to solely wear them.”

His sharp gaze was menacing, surely, but the disappointment was there, too, hidden in the glint of his blue eye to chastise and guilt you. Though mortified at the improper implications of his demands, the thought of disobeying him was what truly shook you to the core.

The White Cloak takes you to a set of heavy doors and pushes them open to reveal King Aegon II’s Small Council. He was once the depraved son of King Viserys I, but he is no longer the exclusive bearer of such a title.

Your Prince sits to the left of the King now, across from the Lord Hand, in a great position of power. The Dance had reshaped many things in the Realm, and he had been no exception.

He doesn’t cover his monstrous gash and sapphire stone like he used to when his mother was still alive. He hasn’t held many habits of propriety since. More scars cut across his milky skin, some even crawling from beneath his collar, and the long white mane he used to proudly maintain in honor of his heritage is kept short to enhance all of his additional, menacing features.

His body is that of a man, now; no longer slim and taut but large and burly from battle, and yet his most striking transformations had not been bodily.

You walk toward him surely but quietly, eyes fixed on him whilst he does not award you a single glance. He is engrossed in the scheming that does not halt at your entrance, but you know he wants you when you see his parted knees, when you see leather pulled tight over his stiff shaft.

His jaw is clenched tight and the fingers on his right hand fiddle around thin air, so you know to step silently between his parted legs and descend to your knees underneath the table. The rough fingers that do not worry over it snake around the back of your head to gently thread through your hair. He needn’t say nor command anything else.

You stroke him to full hardness, grazing your teeth against the base, running your nose along the shaft, and then unbuttoning him quietly.

He is as silky and warm as always against your tongue. He drags against your cheeks when you hollow them and his skin, taut around his swollen tip, pulls back and forth when you suck on it. You don’t recall when you first enjoyed his weight in your mouth.

You risk a glance at him. He pays you no mind, and his stoic façade gives away nothing, but his chest moves up and down rapidly and you know it means you’re being good. You suppress a whine at his modest appreciation.

He is impossibly handsome as he towers over you, gaze sharp and jaw tight as he ignores you. You want nothing more than his praise and attention, so you lick and please him slowly, lazily and patiently. He is busy, you remind yourself, and he will reward you when the time comes. He always does.

Between your thighs, your skimpy dress slickens with your arousal as it builds steadily to an insatiable ache. It has become second nature for your body to give in to him in this way, even when he has yet to touch you. He has trained you this way.

“Have you kept it wet for your Prince?” he whispers against your neck each time he comes back to his quarters in the early evening.

The question is often accompanied by a slithering hand, like a snake that seeks warmth, it buries itself in your cunt to confirm it is to his standards. He hums in satisfaction each time.

“When in my presence,” he had told you once, depositing you in an armchair across his desk, “I want to marvel at my cunt freely,” he explained as he hooked your knees over the armrests and bunched your skirts around your waist.

And you awakened breathless, hours later, with his tongue licking inside you and his nose on your pearl of pleasure.

You had stood no chance. To you, he is intrinsically bound to that feeling that crawls under your skin, that under his touch erupts in elation.

Now, you are wide awake, and it is you who tastes him eagerly.

When he begins to drip, hot and salted, your fingers grip his thighs harder as your own quiver in a need you haven't been able to control in a long time. You look at him again. His cheeks are hollowed, jaw locked shut, eyes slitted in fury.

The lords in the Small Council haven’t halted their discussion despite your interruption and it is clear what they discuss displeases your Prince greatly. If not, he might have not summoned you.

This is not the first time the Prince has had you in their presence, it is not the first time he has had you in the presence of others at all. If it had been, perhaps you would have been capable of greater shame.

When he took you in and you proceeded to tend to him exclusively, little of your customary routine changed. But when his demands started to reflect his true intentions, his true desires, it couldn’t be said you were still a palace maid.

That first time, you had been brushing your hair at your vanity, as you often now did, and applying to your skin the feminine oils your Prince preferred. In an immodest lavender dress of his choosing and delicate jewelry he appreciated, you tended to yourself as he demanded.

The doors to his sleeping chambers push open to allow a small entourage of maids to set his breakfast - your breakfast. Your jerk reaction is to look away from them, the people who had once been your colleagues, and hide your healthy, pampered face.

Your eyes land on his lavish, sunny balcony where he leans against the railing directly across from you. He loves to watch his beast terrorize the city below with her sky-bound rounds first thing in the morrow. But he watches her no longer.

He shines brightly and god-like under the sun; his messy short hair glows a halo above him, and the sapphire lodged on the left side of his face glints to highlight the cut of his scar like thunder. Despite the warmth of the morning shine, he is cold, white-cold, with his silver hair and porcelain skin, his milky chemise that reveals his milky chest, and his silky pants that bulk to reveal his salacious musings.

Your breathing quickens as you take him in fully, in all his terrifying, improper glory. Your hand holds your brush halfway through its path and your lips hang parted as he holds your gaze intently, as you watch him with a hunger that escapes your agency.

When he pushes off the stone ledge, you let your brush hit the floor. Such is the effect he has on you, such is the extent of his influence.

He drops to frame you within his arms, leveraging against the cushioned seat of your vanity desk, to take your lips in sloppy teasing, giving you just enough of a taste that something within you quivers wantonly.

Behind you, the porcelains and silvers continue to clink against the wood, chairs scrape across the stone, and heavy cloth slaps in the still air.

“What’s this, then?” he whispers and deprives you of his tongue too quickly. You grasp onto his strong arms to center yourself, breathing heavily against him.

Fingers run up your inner thigh and you shiver violently, desiring him violently.

“Are you ashamed of serving your Prince?” he grins maliciously.

“O-of course not my-” you choke on a gasp when he brings his hot lips to your neck, sucking on the spots that have you dripping under your skimpy gown.

He takes your left knee and hooks it around his hip, pulling you flush against him as he presses you down on the long chaise. A yelp escapes you when you feel his hot girth against your cunt.

“Or are you ashamed of how thoroughly you enjoy it?” he grunts against your lips, thrusting his clothed bulge against you. You bite your lips closed painfully as you are painfully aware of the people behind you.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” he barks, glancing upward to your utmost horror. You hear the servants scurry behind you, imagining their bowed heads and embarrassed looks. Your own embarrassment grows until tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

“Not until she comes,” he adds, looking at you, grinning widely, while he snakes a hand between your legs and burrows his fingers deep inside in a swift stroke.

You burn in shame when your eyes roll to the back of your head and a long whine is forced out of your lips.

“It won’t be long now,” he continues, watching your tears spill, fucking your cunt fast, “she is wet and swollen already.”

Indeed, the noises coming from between your legs are excessively obscene. And he is right, he knows your cunt - his cunt - too well.

When he plugs you with his thick girth, you whine and moan in complete abandon. And when he plows you fast enough to make the chaise scrape against the floors, you scream and beg for him before soaking his cock in unlimited ecstasy.

The first time he’s ever had you in the presence of others was long ago.

Now, you know that when his fingers tighten on your nape you are to release his hard cock quickly. You know to mount it instead.

You make quick, silent work of it not to disturb him and the processes of the court that still unravel behind you. You straddle his thighs, tuck your toes behind his knees, grip his leather vest tightly, and hide your face in the crook of his neck. The hand that had been in your hair now rests on your hip, thumb hooked under the scandalous slit of your dress to bury in the crease where your thigh meets your hip.

You count the time that passes in the drops of sweat that roll down your temple, in shaky breaths you rein against his skin, in the thrums of your blood.

Your cunt, dripping and dripping, quivers weakly around him. Though you refrain from moving and driving yourself to your insanity, it throbs on his shaft as you feel the mere ghost of his touch on your most pleasurable spot.

Your body aches with the effort of keeping composure, keeping quiet, keeping from breaking. And every time your Prince has input on the session that stretches on, his chest rumbles and you must refrain from mewling in satisfaction.

It is not until your mind is hazy with exhaustion and your eyes spill tears of agony that the heavy chairs start to scrape against the stone floors, one by one. Your heartbeats pick up their rhythm from where they had rested in patience.

And when footsteps follow, he pulls your face from hiding by the sweaty hairs on the back of your neck.

A small yet immensely condescending smile plays on his sculpted lips. It makes you aware of your humiliating conditions: a servant, chosen to fulfill the pleasures of her liege Prince, at the brink of insanity from entertaining her own pleasures instead.

You are lost in his mismatched blue eyes, so much so that you are caught off guard when he starts shoving your hips back and forth to grind on his cock. Instantly, it drags a long gasp from you, crosses your eyes, waters your mouth.

“Hm?” he questions patronizingly, looking down with a raised eyebrow that mocks your lustful reaction.

His ministrations are excruciating, his cockhead bullying hard and unforgiving on your most pleasurable spot. In this way, you are violently driven to ecstasy, just shy of peaking with the same intensity, when he halts all movement without warning.

But you are given time to neither cry nor beg for his mercy, for he hugs you tight to his chest, angles your hips away from his cock, and thrusts.

You gasp painfully against his leather-covered pecs when he does, and he soon pulls your head back by your hair to place your chin against it instead.

Through your pleasure-hazed eyes, you see his mirth and his composure. And it is always this way: regardless of how eagerly he takes you, no matter how passionately he desires you, you are always the one debauched and he is always the one untarnished, always viciously becoming of his royal status.

“Go on then,” he murmurs when he watches your tears roll the sides of your face, your lips parted in unbearable pleasure. “Go on and cream on it.”

Because his growl electrifies you from within, because you’ve learned to be promptly obedient, because you cannot help it, you do as he commands.

Your cunt contracts so tightly, for a second his cock gets trapped mid-thrust before he repeatedly shoves himself inside you to forcefully ride the surges of your orgasm. Your loose chin bumps against his chest, leaving sloppy trails behind, and your breasts spill, little by little, from the flimsy restraint of the fabric that skates down between your bodies.

He loves to debase you in this way.

He doesn’t stop, and you are unable to determine when your first orgasm ends and the second starts to mount.

But he can.

He hisses when he feels it - your cunt throbbing again, dripping relentlessly - and bares his sharp teeth in a sneer, watching your glimmering, dopey eyes.

His grip on your hip strengthens, the arm that loops around your back to grasp your hair tenses, and he rises to his feet only to drop you unceremoniously onto the stone surface behind you.

“Gods,” he growls, slows his ministrations, and you savor every excessive inch of his, so evident now your cunt is hot and swollen from the long wait, from the incessant grinding. “I would keep you on my cock from sunrise to nightfall.”

He holds onto your hips, forcing them down against the table so that you don’t slide away from his powerful pushes, and watches his shaft disappear within you attentively.

“I would keep you on it,” he licks his lips, “at tea with my sister,” he meets your eyes again, after appreciating the uncoordinated bouncing of your breasts.

“On my morning flights,” he continues, lowering himself to hover above you, a hand pressed next to your head. “And I would carry you, and display you on my hard cock, all over this castle.”

He picks up his brutish pace again and you gasp and whine unabashedly, and new tears spill from your unfocused eyes, and your bottom lip quivers. Such is the effect of his praise.

“What’s that now, huh?” he coos, forcing a little sob from you, but you are unable to communicate. Instead, you part your lips and plead with big, wet eyes.

He lets go of your hip to support himself fully on his forearms, hovering a bit closer now. You can feel his warmth, now, you can scent his luscious exertion.

His nose brushes lightly against your own, just beyond reach, and you can’t avoid bending your back, tilting your chin, or your tongue poking out between your teeth, desperate for a taste.

His eye darkens significantly and he tuts in feigned disappointment.

“Needy little thing,” he murmurs, only to plunge his soft tongue right where you yearned for it.

His kisses are supple and sloppy and not enough to sate you. When he pulls away and you whine in agony, he lets his drool slide down his tongue and onto yours. And the debauchery of the act drives pathetic moans from your lips and desperate rolls of your hips.

Above you, your Prince moans and hisses, then plunges himself against your sweetest spot with renewed, unstoppable vigor. And yet again you cry pathetically, eyes crossing and mouth hanging open, tits flying and slapping, cunt gushing and thrumming.

“I fucking love it when you get like this,” your Prince grunts viciously behind gritted teeth, shoving his girthy length in and out without mercy for your sanity.

“Wet,” his hand lowers to grope your plump bottom, “hot,” he forces you against his unforgiving plows, “utterly dimwitted for your Prince’s cock.”

He loves to debase you in this way, and the response you manage is a string of blabbering, dimwitted pleas.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he grunts again, panting above you as his crazed movements and your lascivious reactions burn his muscular body, “I’d think you’re falling in love with it.”

“Oh, I am!” you yelp, long and loud, mind entirely lost in the bliss he fucks into you. “I love it… I love my Prince’s cock,” you whimper timidly against his lips and he angles his cock to bully that spongy, swollen button of yours.

“Yeeess,” you moan again. “There, there,” you beg with your cries and beseeching eyes.

You come on a scream that reverberates through the tall, stony walls of the Small Council. And though your walls contract viciously, your Prince pushes through them determinedly, driving you to an immediate third peak that absolutely floods your cunt before he even dumps his hot seed inside you.

You come on his cock long and hard, and you come still when he too finishes. And when he drops his weight onto you, finally, and his head thumps against the table next to yours, your cunt still flutters from the sensorial memory of the onslaught it endured.

Your skin is impossibly hot and sweaty, and your body impossibly exhausted.

And yet.

“Tonight,” your Prince starts after long moments of silence, raising his head only to meet your eyes, “we will hold a private audience for the King.”

Your body shivers cold, your eyes bulge out, but your cunt contracts around him meekly.

He watches you closely, with his eye delighted and a wide grin, malicious.

“I want you on your best behavior,” he warns, teasing, “just like this.”

He loves to debase you, and you love to serve him.

#hotd fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #aemond x you #aemond x servant reader #hotd smut #lol not me posting another one at 3am on a sunday #work is going to suck tomorrow i guess

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 month

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observation: women DID win medals at the ancient olympics… by OWNING the horses that won the medals. sugar mommy reader/jockey konig when ;)

Omggg imagine a widowed, virtuous, kind-hearted domina who owns horses and a giant slave from the North… (Roman AU just because!)

König is her favorite jockey, a real apple of the eye. Everytime he wins a competition she wishes to see him personally, just to plant the coins in his palm herself. He always steals a peek of her ankle, barely covered by the white veil, weighs her hips and breasts with his stare. But far more than the dark triangle under her opaque white dress, he seems to be interested in her eyes.

Audacious, even from a slave, but she forgives him since he comes from the barbaric North. What do they know of manners there?

She knows very well that the brief touches she gives him are about to make him crazy. She knows König would do anything for his mistress’s favor and praise, anything to please his domina. Anything for a silent, appreciative once over, let alone a warm, approving smile.

Servants and slaves give each other knowing looks everytime he’s summoned before her. Mistress is being too generous with this man, anyone can see the bulge under his clothes... He gets better food than any of those who work for her, and touching him like that will only make him dream of spending a night in the mistress’s bed. Even the very thought is vulgar.

She only sees a devoted servant and a talented horseman, someone who rarely ruins the mood by talking and always returns her kindness by bowing his head and looking pleased. Other slaves snicker and gossip, but this one only does what he’s told, brings her house victories and glory. And she doubts he would ever cross an unspoken boundary, shy as he is.

The money she gives him doesn’t seem enough of a payment for his services anymore, even if she pays him better than the servants. She likes to see him well fed and satisfied, but König never takes the slave girls she reluctantly tries to offer him. It’s a custom she has to abide by, but secretly, she’s pleased he doesn’t seem to be interested in any of her girls. Thinking about giving him the horse instead because these two seem to share a bond, she notices she would do anything to please this strange, silent man.

But when she tells König she has a gift for him, something special this time, something he has probably wished for for a long time, he falls to one knee and bows his head before she can even tell him what the gift is is. Asks with that rough, unused voice:

“Do I get to fuck you now, mistress?”

#sugar mommy reader: *shocked pikachu face*#shushes the servants who are about to remind her of the horse with a single snap of her fingers #she can change her mind about the gift right??#könig x reader #könig x you

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redtsundere-writes · 6 months

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Ear Cleaning | Sukuna Ryomen

king!sukuna ryomen x servant!reader Sypnosis: The king wants his ears cleaned and he chooses the new servant to do it. Contents: king x servant, kinda fluffy i guess, a lil bit of humilliation, threat, hugs, one bed. Word count: 750 words. Author's note: I like this dynamic, I'll probably write it again in the future. Let me know what you think :)

> Sukuna Ryomen had a lot of servers. They trembled if those scary red eyes of his laid on them. Everyone tried to avoid him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears.

> Sukuna Ryomen hated having his sensitive ears touched but it was necessary if he wanted to have his five senses ready for every battle. He didn't want to clean his own ears because what kind of king cleans his own ears?

> Sukuna Ryomen began his search for a faithful servant to do such a task. As everyone was hiding from him, he ended up choosing you, the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the castle. He ordered you to follow him to his room and the other servants began to bless you in your way there in case they never saw you again.

> Sukuna Ryomen leaned back on his luxurious divan for you to start working. Like the evil motherfucker he is, he didn’t forget to threaten you first: "You'd better do your job well or I’ll kill you," he spat. You swallowed dryly because it was the first time you cleaned his ears and if you didn't do your job well, this would be your last.

> Sukuna Ryomen closed his eyes as you carefully cleaned the outside of his ear with a cotton swab. Your hands were gentle around his sensitive ears and the friction did not bother him because it was so minimal. Your fingers felt warm, which helped him relax. You wish you could be as relaxed as he was because were cold sweating and every move you made was calculated to not bother your majesty.

> Sukuna Ryomen felt a shiver run down his back as you stuck a small wooden spatula into his ear to remove the excess earwax that prevented him from hearing well. "Tell me if it hurts, your majesty" you warned in a shaky voice. "Just do your job," he replied reluctantly.

> Sukuna Ryomen was falling asleep until you asked him if he could lie down on his opposite side so that you could continue the job in his other ear. He did so with a grunt of annoyance, as he was very comfortable on that side.

> Sukuna Ryomen let out a groan as soon as you stuck the spatula in too far. You paralyzed thinking he would kill you instantly. "More careful, can't you do something so simple?" he growled annoyed. You apologized immediately and continued on your task. As soon as your magic fingers touched his ear, his anger faded slowly.

> Sukuna Ryomen yawned as soon as you finished. It was getting late and you had to get back to the kitchen as soon as possible to help with dinner. Instead, he ordered you to stay and said, "Let the servants take care of it. Come here and massage my head."

> Sukuna Ryomen was lying on his gigantic bed with his head in your lap. Your fingers massaged his temples in circles softly. If you paid close attention, you could hear him purring lightly like a contented kitten even though he wasn't physically as cute as one. You started to feel less stressed since he seemed to be enjoying your attention.

> Sukuna Ryomen had fallen asleep, so you decided to sneak out of his room to join the other servants. As soon as you got off the bed, you heard that dreaded voice behind you. "Who said you could leave?" You stopped frozen in your place and turned to face him. "Come and lie with me." Your heart bounced on your chest as you heard that command, but you couldn't say “no” to the king.

> Sukuna Ryomen pulled you into his strong arms like you were a full size teddy bear. The warmth of his body and yours merged, causing the temperature to rise between you. You had heard how badly he treated his concubines, so you were afraid he would do the same to you. All concern disappeared when he began to slowly caress your body carefully to not scratch you with his claws.

> Sukuna Ryomen didn't snore like you thought he would. He made a lighter, quieter sound, almost like a kitten with a stuffy nose. His arms wrapped around your waist and shoulders. His heavy breathing and comfortable chest encouraged you to fall asleep. "His majesty's orders" you thought so you wouldn't feel guilty about falling asleep while the other servants ran around the castle.

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Masterlist.

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #fanfic #bullet fic #lovers #king #servant #one bed trope #fanfiction #he is a little shit #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk imagine #sukuna original form #huge titts #hugs

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suiana · 1 year

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✎ yandere! servant headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― obsessiveness, possesiveness, worshipping etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! servant who has been dutifully serving you ever since he was a child. the two of you practically grew up together and are inseparable!

✎ yandere! servant who has grown terribly obsessive over you, his beloved master. you're what he lives for, his sole purpose of living. and with how you're always looking for him, staying by his side, he'd have to be heartless not to love such a sweet person. you're the only good thing in his life, don't leave him.

✎ yandere! servant who basically worships your very existence. for you saved him when he was abandoned as a child, and he is eternally grateful for that. you gained an eternal servant when you decided to help him out as a child.

✎ yandere! servant who often wishes he wasn't of commoner background. wanting to be of nobility so that he could be given the official opportunity to court you. though if he did, he wouldn't have been able to witness you in your entirety and that would truly be a shame :(

✎ yandere! servant who has manipulated you throughout the entire course of his career as your loyal servant. whispering blatant lies into your ears while sugar-coating them... you naively believed him, falling deeper into his trap as the roles slowly got reversed and he became the master of the relationship.

✎ yandere! servant who has managed to successfully get rid of your potential suitors on several occasions. aw, it looks like you're not getting married any time soon :( worry not, your servant will always stay by your side! always.

✎ yandere! servant who has mastered multiple crafts so that he would be the only one to serve you, to stay by your side. you don't NEED anyone else, he'll be the ONLY ONE to serve you. you're always so impressed by his talents, unknowing of the true reason why he even has them in the first place. that's good, it's better to stay hidden from the truth sometimes.

✎ yandere! servant who has you in the palm of his hand. well, not like you mind. he's your best friend after all! he wouldn't do anything to you now would he? besides, you're the child of the most powerful duke in the empire! you could always just fire him! it won't be that easy though, he'll always find a way to come crawling back to you in life and death.

✎ "master, I've prepared your bath. please allow this servant of yours to wash you up for the luncheon with the duke."

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere blog #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere servant #yandere servant headcanons #yandere servant x reader

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weebsinstash · 2 months

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more valentino PLEASE 🙏

How does the saying go, "i want this man in ways that are concerning to feminism"?

I was thinking of how Angel used to live in V Tower and, how fucked up would it be for him to receive a good morning text from Val to head up to his room, and AD is thinking it's a booty call, but it's ACTUALLY Valentino being a manipulative piece of shit

Angel comes into the room and Valentino is already half or fully naked but like, he's not hard or anything and Angel is confused? The moth is just, chilling naked smoking with this satisfied look on his face? And Valentino just, gives him some menial command to run him a favor, and he pauses mid-sentence to turn and call out YOUR name before regarding his Fizz Bot, "Kitty, why don't you make my baby a drink?" and you're just like, slinking out from under the covers, ashamed that Angel now knows you slept with the Overlord, let alone someone you know uh, treats him pretty fucking poorly (although I imagine not like, the entire entire brutal extent of it, also, Angel Dust using Reader as a shield against Val because they're both calmer when you're around)

Could you imagine some scenario, platonic romantic it doesn't matter, where like. Angel is talking to Valentino and he sees you in the corner of his eye and he just stops mid sentence, does a double take, looks at you half naked in his boss' bed, and Val forces him to focus and carry on the conversation while he's crying. Angel is just all but sprinting out of the room by the time he's dismissed and Valentino may even play fucking mind games to make him like, MARINATE in how horrible this makes him feel. Valentino is dragging out the conversation and putting on his nail caps or doing his skincare routine at his vanity and making Angel sit there and wait as he's deliberate dragging on his sentences and constantly pausing but if Angel moves to leave Val snaps IMMEDIATELY. So Angel is just. Forced to stand there.

VALENTINO TALKING TO Y O U, MAKING YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ANGEL AND THE REVERSE. Valentino being manipulative and awful and shitty and doing shit like "so Angel baby, I was gonna take a trip to the spa tomorrow, mhm, and also hey you're coming too *looks at you* so Angel what do you think we should get my other amorcito over here done?" the evil bastard is making you two talk to each other, about each other, when you're both like, IN TEARS

Angel, trying to hold on to the last shreds of his sanity: s so... h have you... ever had a facial before

Valentino pausing from doing his mascara with the biggest shit eating grin on his face: oh yeah, someone just had a really, really BIG one

Reader, happily getting drunk off the drink Kitty brought you because it helps take away the pain of this entire interaction: a. .. a massage or something might be nice

Valentino, doing his contour: but baaaabe, I thought you told me you were shy about who puts their hands on your body. Are you trying to make me jealous?

Angel, desperately trying to ignore Val blowing you a kiss and you clearly having bites and hickies alllllllll over you like there wasn't a single inch of you the moth didn't put his hands mouth or otherwise on: uh huh! Cool! So! Guess we can! Decide later right! :)

Valentino, doing his nails: wrong 💅 I also need you to

And the mf is just doing that shit for like 20 minutes straight which doesn't SOUND like a lot but when you're standing there just talking and waiting and, especially having a moment like THIS, it's just DRAGGING ON, and when Angel finally leaves, you're crying, and here's Valentino, "awwww, pobrecita, come here, what's wrong?" and hugging you and you need the comfort and you're drunk and, now maybe you're just a little scared he's the only person you have left....

Also. Bonus round for the angst. Can you imagine. Angel runs off and it's you sleeping with Valentino that finally hurts him so much he's finally RUNNING running away, meeting Charlie, having another place to live. He's still working under contract but the second his shift ends he's out of the studio without another word because... he can't protect you anymore. He feels like this is his fault. He failed Molly and now he failed you and he's worthless and trash and an addict loser-- meanwhile you're beating yourself up because you've lost your only friend down here and also your biggest supporter and Valentino all but lovebombs you (and the worst part is, it's genuine and if you reject ANYTHING, he's getting Offended Bigly)

Ugh. Ok. I'm sorry. Finally finishing the post with one more thing. Valentino is definitely the type to give you expensive gifts and he doesn't actually care about the amount of money he spends on you BUT, will use the fact he's spent so much money on you to manipulate you IN A HEARTBEAT

And also. You're not allowed to reject gifts because it sets him off in like 5 different ways. "Oh so my gifts aren't good enough for you?" "Do you have any idea how much I spent on this?" "I TOOK THE TIME to get this for YOU" God forbid if it's something custom. Could you imagine he offers you something and he doesn't immediately tell you it's custom, like he's got sketches in a notebook somewhere, this is MADE WITH LOVE ableit his creepy obsessive love, and you could literally have a very polite "oh my gosh I couldn't that's so expensive I, I don't deserve it, wow" where you're obviously very happy but just shocked and feeling guilty, like a FLATTERING rejection that is obviously an insult to YOU, NOT him, and he's just. The switch fucking flips. His head tilts. He lets out a hum as his smile pulls way too tight. Lashes out within seconds. Grabs you. takes that jewelry or watch or expensive thing he bought you and literally forces it onto your body, and he's not screaming or raising his voice, he's getting right up in your face and growling out the deeeeeetails of how he got this for you until you're crying and apologizing for your ingratitude

Ugh he's so cunty and mean and awful UGH WHY WOULD I LET HIM HIT, he would use that heart shaped belt he has to put heart shaped welts on your ass and then set your cute bruised heart covered butt as his phone wallpaper and your icon in his contacts and save your name as Ropebunny or something rhfkcsbfkhdxkfh

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #valentino x reader #hh #yandere hellaverse #sinprompts #i actually started thinking of an idea where val calls reader bunny but funny enough bunny reader x val fics exist! kudos #in my idea reader isnt a bunny but jokingly calls themself the energizer bunny after val comments on them fidgeting while serving him #he starts calling you bunny so then he has 'his Kitty and his Bunny' fndkcbffjf #ive also thought of scenarios where valentino accidentally breaks kitty and forces reader to be his new servant and keeps it that way #like can you imagine. kitty gets fixed and val STILL has you wait on him lmao. reality hitting you like a brick wall

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lucieviere · 5 months

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ANIMAL JAMMMMMMMMMM

#nagito fanart #sdr2 nagito #komaeda nagito #nagito komaeda #danganronpa nagito #nagito x reader #nagito smut #hajime x nagito #nagito x you #servant nagito #danganronpa memes #danganronpa #sdr2 #danganronpa sdr2 #super danganronpa 2 #animal jam

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bunny-yan · 1 year

Text

King!Yandere x GN!Reader

TW: non-con, death, victim blaming, patricide, nsfw, power dynamics, slight body worship

—

The King’s lover.

A position coveted by fools that didn’t understand what it was they were asking for.

You sat, eyes lost as you stroked the royal head of your beloved king. He was a respected ruler, loved by noble and common folk alike for his infinite wisdom. He was a wise king. A kind king loved by his people for his overwhelming generosity. A king you were sure no one understood quite as well as you.

Your king had not always been your king.

He’d been a prince once, though you had always been his servant. Your father served as a butler, it was only natural that you’d follow in his footsteps, but the young prince had taken a liking to the servant and you were granted an illustrious position as the prince’s companion.

It was nice.

You got to wear casual clothes, clothes you preferred over the servant’s uniform. You were able to eat snacks that you’d only seen in passing through bakery windows. There was no point in asking your father to try it because sweets were a luxury you couldn’t afford. But the prince spoiled you with sweets.

It was more than nice.

You got to play instead of cleaning the giant rooms in the palace. You were allowed to lounge, lazily relaxing if the prince was to focus on his swordsmanship or studies, your only duties being to make sure that the prince made it to his appointments on time and you were good at that. Sure, the prince could act like a bit of a brat. He’d refuse to go to his lessons unless you promised to play with him after or personally prepared his bath or kissed him on the cheek. The prince always wanted his way, but that was only natural.

He was a prince.

The oldest son of the current king. Everyone would serve him in the future so it only made sense that he got whatever he wanted now. You were the prince’s companion. A fancy title given to a servant that was meant to make sure the prince’s every whim and desire was met.

You didn’t mind.

The prince was kind. He’d ask you to accompany him on trips to the garden, often claiming that he’d fill it with your favorite flower when he was king. You would laugh, shaking your head as you told him there was no need to do such a thing for a servant, but he was determined. He would do it. He would do anything for you.

The prince was caring. Giving so much of his attention to a servant when it was your job to serve him. He didn’t ask for much from you, only that you were in his presence most days. Sure, it was boring to sit and watch the prince during his lectures or watch him study, but anything was better than scrubbing floors and dusting vases and windows. His asking for your continued accompaniment meant that you could escape manual labor and you’d always be grateful for that.

But the prince got angry. He didn’t like it when you talked to your “other friends.” The only friend you needed was him. You were his companion. There was no need to talk to the other servants. Even if it was to get his meals, you could simply ask a maid to do it. If it meant you talking to the others, he would relieve you of that duty. You only needed to focus on being by his side and taking care of his needs. Other people didn’t matter.

The prince was stubborn. It was hard explaining why communication was a necessary part of your duties if you were going to continue to serve him. It was also obvious that your words went in one ear and out the other, the prince refusing to listen to anything you said. The conversation was over after he gave the order. He wouldn’t argue semantics.

He wouldn’t argue at all.

You didn’t expect the prince to be forceful. The prince on top of you was not the same charming prince that you had grown up with. This prince was harsh, whispering cruel, vulgar words in your ear as he ripped the buttons off of your clothes. His hands touched you despite your pleas for him to stop, to come to his senses. He claimed he was sane. Even after violating you in ways you didn’t think he could. But you wanted it, right?

Because he was a prince.

His title, his status, his future. They were all things that shined like gold to a beggarly servant like you. How dare you speak ill of the prince?

You’d tried telling your father, but his hands were tied. He served the king, so his child would serve the prince.

But you didn’t want to.

Not when the prince would take every opportunity to trap you in his room, uncaring if his rough hands caused bruises as they forced themselves into your clothes. He’d order you to cease your useless struggles and get angry if you began to cry.

He didn’t understand why you were crying. He was the prince and you were his. His things couldn’t say no, so you have to want it. You wanted it, right?

The prince got scary when you said no. He threatened to hang one member of your household for every no that came out of your mouth. There was no point in crying about it. He would comfort you until he felt better.

The prince got really scary when you tried to run away. You hid in a carriage devoid of produce, hoping to escape from the palace and find a way in to town, but the prince noticed his companion’s suspicious behavior. Knights found you before you could exit the palace’s gates and you were dragged inside to kneel before the prince’s feet. He slapped you, calling you a deceitful little whore. The prince couldn’t understand why you were so desperate to get away from him, but your betrayal had been enough for him to make good on his promise.

The prince was good at keeping his promises. He forced you to look at the dangling bodies of your family, forcing your chin up when you were in front of your father.

“This is your fault.” he whispered in your ear, kissing the side of your neck as you cried. He was rough with you that night. He didn’t care that you were still grieving, he wanted to make sure you understood who you belonged to. Forcing himself inside of you with little preparation, he growled, “You’re mine.” over and over again until you could hear his voice continue to haunt you in your dreams.

The prince was happy. His companion no longer shied away from his touch. You were so obedient and docile now. You’d listen to anything he told you to do. He liked holding you in his arms, kissing you, and seeing you next to him when he woke up in the morning. It was a little frustrating when he would have to order you to reciprocate his affections, but you were so good he didn’t really mind.

The prince’s father didn’t approve of your relationship. Anytime he saw the two of you together, he’d glare at you, making you feel small. His son didn’t understand the mood, deciding that he would hold you closer, uncaring about how others felt regarding your relationship.

The king approached you. Told you to separate yourself from his son. That he would take care of living arrangements outside of the kingdom’s jurisdiction. You didn’t care that he looked at you as if you were a nuisance. He was helping you escape!

The prince’s coronation came much sooner than you expected. Although the king had been young, they found him dead the next morning, assuming he’d passed away in his sleep. The prince attended his father’s funeral, but he didn’t look very upset. He was crowned in a ceremony directly after his father’s burial and your king gave you a smile that seemed ill-fitted considering the circumstances.

When he approached you later, you kneeled, giving your greetings to the head of the empire. He stroked your head, other hand reaching for his waist as he gave you your first order as king.

“Open your mouth.”

Your title had changed. You were the king’s lover. A concubine for the king’s pleasure until he saw fit to perform his duty and marry a queen, but you feared it was long time off from the way he worshiped your body like an obsessed madman night after night. Moaning in your ear about how beautiful you were. How precious your body was. How he’d kill anyone that thought of laying a finger on you or taking you away. You were his.

The prince kept his promise. The garden had been filled with your favorite flower. You often sat on the bench to find refuge in your luxurious prison, but he always found you. He was usually uncaring, but he became a bit more sensitive when you were here. He wouldn’t deny himself the pleasure of your company, but he kept his lustful urges at bay, opting instead to sit on the bench next to you to talk or lie his head in your lap on the days he lacked rest.

Looking at the king now, you wondered where your kind prince had gone. If you’d known he would turn into someone you couldn’t recognize, someone you began to impulsively avoid, you would’ve happily worn your servants clothes. Though a part of you felt that he would’ve been just as likely to tear them off of you.

Servant or companion, you were his.

#king #yandere king #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere #yandere x you #yandere king x servant reader

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