he needs enrichment
which selfships immediately come to mind when you see prev??
"Do you want the good news or the bad news?"
Your bags haven't had the chance to hit the floor before Osamu comes around the corner. He has a half empty beer in one hand and a full drink in the other, his usual hat still on, but pulled fully around so a tuft of hair sticks out of the front. It's only the first night of vacation and he's already hitting the bottle hard. It's telltale in the way his smile quivers like he's swallowing back a laugh.
"Good news first," you say. Everyone else had arrived earlier today. Work had kept you late, as usual, so you had missed an entire day of debauchery and chaos on the beach. The elated voices of your friends echo off of the back porch, already brash and loud with drink. Atsumu's trying to shout a story over all of it, which only makes the gaggle giggle more, a stark contrast to the quiet night on the coast. "Butter me up."
"I have your mocktail ready." He hands the drink to you and you gasp in delight. Tiny miracle. "And my mom made those cookie things you like. I brought about fifty of them."
"Oh, yes. Thank you, Mama Miya." You slip off your shoes with your toes, leaving them at the door next to everyone else's. You take attendance: Atsumu's sneakers (flashy and worn only at the toes), Hinata's (matching, smaller, and the soles much more chewed), Suna's slip ons (low effort, yet stylish enough to know some effort was used after all), his girlfriend's kitten heels. Osamu's are his every day shoes: nonslip, coming apart at the seams, and a scuffed to hell black.
"What's the bad news?"
"There's only three bedrooms."
"Where's your shadow?"
The scullery maid wipes the flour off of her hands on to her skirts. The bread is nearly done baking - its scent clings to the air- and the currants are boiling in their rum. You stir those carefully, to make sure the bottom doesn't burn with sugar.
"The knight? I've banished him until the tourney is done," you scoff. "Man kept sneaking off with treats. If he kept that up, we wouldn't have enough food for the feasts!"
"Well, he needs his strength for the tourney, don't he?"
"Is he participating?" The fire is dying, but you don't want to leave for more wood. "I thought it was only for high born boys."
The other maid stares at you with a nearly disgusted look. With a huff, she goes to grab more dough.
"You know who he is, don't ya?' she calls. "Son of a Lord."
"Really now?"
"Firstborn! I swear it." She returns. "Had some tragic accident as a babe. Kidnappers and ransomers. They slit his throat and left him for dead in the woods when the family didn't pay. 'Pparently his father isn't a good Lord because who does that to a babe unless they hate the da?"
"And the babe lived?" you ask.
"Clearly! He's here!" she says. "They say the fae saved him in exchange for his voice. And his cock."
"His cock?"
"Gullible girl."
You laugh at yourself. The girl seems awfully sure this is the correct story; you wonder if you could ask the knight, but he wouldn't be able to tell you the truth. He's tried to write to you before, but you can't read, so the effort was wasted. (Though, that makes the high born story make more sense. Backwoods boys don't read and write.)
"Why is he here if he's a lord's son? Shouldn't he be training to do Lord things?" you ask.
"I bet he's going to be a member of the king's guard one day," she replies.
"That's stupid. Members of the King's Guard can't become lords."
"Well, doubt the family wants him to be one. Who wants a Lord that can't speak?" the maid says. "And who would want to marry a mute?"
You wrinkle your nose. "I would."
"You would?"
"Why not? He is kind, handsome, strong, never hits, never yells. You could do much worse." You can feel your smile creeping up at the thought of it. "I would give him a babe or two."
"You just want to be a lady," she says. "If you give him a bastard, maybe he'd marry you and give you a title.
"Yeah, and the title would be Lady of the Kitchen, I bet."
Both of you dissolve into giggles. It's ridiculous-- lords aren't marrying kitchen girls. They pick ladies who can dance, who can read, who come from good blood-
"M'lady, the fae are asking for his first born." The maid's voice croons high, teasing you with a mock highborn accent. She gathers her skirts in her hands, swishing her hips and dipping into curtsy. "M'lady, m'lady, Lady of the Figgy puddings, lover of the knights. Lady of bouncing on highborn cock-"
You laugh again, but turn away, embarrassed.
"Your bread is burning."
how long does it take for the maid to get that he wants to eat her?
He wants to.
Oh, he wants to.
But there's one evening he stops by the kitchen and your giggles echo over the fires. You're chopping potatoes with a wide smile, some stranger hanging over your shoulder. The man -some farmer or something- has his head buried in the crook of your neck, digging a kiss into the soft spot.
"Aye--" he groans as you bat a hand away. he goes for your ass again and you squeal, qiggling out of his grasp. "Aye, lass, quit teasing."
The knight's heart sinks. its not as if you two had anything (he, in fact, may have fucked a barmaid last week) but it's different to see it happened.
"You gotta ask for what you want, ser," you coo to the man.
"Come on-"
"Use your words."
The man whirls you around, hands tight on your waist. he leans it, forehead against yours, and says: "Can I get a kiss?"
and you give it to him.
I just want to remind you that sometimes your life really doesn't begin until you are 26+... Romanticizing and obsessing over our youth is harmful. Growing up is beautiful. Discovering who you are and how you interact with the world is a gift. Maturing and learning what you truly want out of life and living in that purpose brings fulfillment and peace. Your life is not over in your early 20's because you haven't figured it out yet, it's just beginning.
your f/o’s bulge in swim shorts, riding up and sticking to him when he’s fresh out of the pool
make your fields of mistra self-insert/oc with me! 🫶
farmer kail vs summer beach party kail
On the farm vs watching the stars with my bachelor hehehe
you know what you shouldnt do? constantly tell your child how expensive they are to take care of. because eventually, that child gets scared of asking for money, and doesnt feed themself at school, doesnt go places with their friends that require money, because she doesnt want to be expensive. it really does get into their minds, that theyre too much money and that they shouldnt do anything.
i do wonder how mamdani would have solved a problem like the green goblin
CLICK NOW to find hot medieval knights near you
I fear I need to tease the mute knight now as much as possible- he’s too cute not to try and fluster-
He gets so annoyed and aghast over your vulgar language, huffing and puffing whenever you even hint at a dirty joke.
He points at you (you.), then twists a pinky into his dimple (sweet).
"Aye, I am," you sigh, with a sly smile, and he pips his mouth open with exasperation. "I didn't think you'd catch that one, virgin."
When the knight laughs, it's surprisingly soft. It catches and grinds, like he shouldn't be able to do it at all, but it also feel so natural to hear it. The sound always seems to scare him, as if he forgot he could make it at all.
"Don't lie!" you say, waving your knife his way.
The knight shakes his head harder.
"There's no shame in it, lad-"
Your friend points to himself again, then taps his collected fingers to his lips. I eat. He pretends to bring his tongue over the back of his hand, like mouser cat after a good catch. I lick.
"I know you eat," you wave that knife around again.
"Can barely fit your armor."
two dicks and they’re both inside me and they’re stretching the same hole and they’re frotting inside me and it feels really good and it’s hot and messy and we’re all making out and 😵💫
a kitchen maid and the mute knight
the other kitchen staff whisper that he was touched by fairies as a babes. the men say his throat was cut as a child. he, of course, says nothing from behind his masked helmet.
one day, you go into the kitchens late at night to stir a stew, only to be surprised by a hulking figure. You scream, hurrying to grab a pot or pan to defend yourself, only for the figure to jump back itself. it doesnt make a noise, doesnt apologize or yell. it -no, him, you realize, as the man's face comes into focus- is a scruffy haired man, neckline high, cheeks gaunt. He's none of the other knights you know, so you realize its the silent one almost instantly.
"I'm sorry, ser," you squeak. "I did not mean to scare you. I thought you were-"
you let that thought fizzle out. his brows furrow deep, as if he's bewildered by the idea of you scaring him. he's hunched near the stock pot, a heel of bread in hand.
"Are you hungry?" you ask. the man stares at you, lip curled in confusion until he realizes your waiting for an answer. with a stiff nod, he answers you and you rush to grab him some of the cured meats for tomorrow.
"Here." You shove it into his hands. "That stew ain't ready yet. Them potatoes are hard enough you'll break your jaw."
he pounds a fist to his chest before eating, eyes flickering to you every couple of bites.
"Is it good?"
He nods again.
"The girls say that you're either fae kissed or witch cursed," you say before you can stop yourself. "Which it be?"
He looks up at you again. The scar on his throat is clearly visible: both of you know which rumor is fact. But he takes his pointer, middle and thumb to his other palm, standing them there like a little woodland faery.
"I knew it," you whisper with a laugh, and he smiles too, gap toothed and innocent.
"The other skullery girl is gone."
Nights have become routine. You feed him bowls if whatever is good in the kitchen, he listens to you ramble about the day. He never seems to care that you bother him so-- in fact, he's engaged.
The knight cups a hand over his eye like he's searching the distance. Where?
"Married! Can you believe it?" you sigh. "The butcher came and threw her over his shoulder. Didn't even ask! She's already with babe. I don't think men should do anything to a woman without askin! Like we're piggies at market, I tell you. Worst part is that the butcher is sending up the shit cuts now. Prince nearly tanned my hide over a pig tail! No lasses left to impress, no good meat!"
The knight points towards you.
"Me?"
He does it firmer.
"Only reason men come see me is to get extra rations." You shove him playfully. "Not that I hate the company or anything. 'sides, I like the tail. Fries up real nice. Sisters and I used to fight over it. I'll save you one."
The knight palms his nose, pushing it up and flat, then rubs his stomach.
"You like snout?" you say. "You're more backwoods than I am!
A fervent nod, a walk of the finger, amd a tap on the forehead. Of course I Am. Faeries, remember?
"Yes, you lived in those awful fae in the deep dark woods, eating hog snout."
He puckers a fist and points to the folds near his thumbs.
"What?"
All of his fingers tap his mouth, then form the fist again. He ate....
"And pork anus?" you gasp. "Ser!"
His laugh is scratchy, nearly silent, but it bounces in his chest. it might just be air, but you can feel it moving, dancing-
"Better to eat pork butt than pork pussy, I guess."
Your knight nearly shoves you, waving his arms with a horrified look. The tips of his ears are pink with embarrassment. Don't say that!
"You can joke about butthole, but I can't say pussy?"
He twists a hand in the air, fingers all splayed.
"What is that? Sun? Flower?" you sigh when he nods. "It ain't a flower! You don't put your dick in flowers, you put it in pussies and cunts-"
the knight shoves his soft wedge of fresh bread into your mouth.
Shipping update: Your parcel has been torn asunder by ravenous hogs