You may call me Liliana, Lili, Lils, I really don’t care
Forest Nymph totally normal Human
((This is a little side blog for my OC who’s currently taken the reins of my brain. She is a sassy bitch, I apologize in advance because the people pleaser in me is dry heaving. I will reply in character, might not/light RP.))
I was the people’s apothecary and physician, now gets the honor of forcing royalty and their knights to take care of themselves. No you can’t fight with a broken arm no matter how sick it would be. Don’t you move out of bed Your Majesty or you’ll faint.
Oh dear heavens, may someone check on this poor soul? Those plants belong to a rather … interesting dryad community. Ahem, that flower does happen to taste quite good though so, fuck you for not judging me.
((Art is absolutely amazing, I couldn’t resist!!!))
you need to be more normal about fwb. no, fwb don’t strip you of your dignity. they are not unhealthy. sexual relationships are not bad. it’s not weird to want them and not romance. friends can fuck. you don’t have to be involved romantically to be intimate with someone. that includes all sorts of physical touch because you are also not normal about platonic non-sexual touch. it’s not weird if friends cuddle, sleep in one bed, hold hands or kiss. friends can be affectionate with each other. it doesn’t mean they are romantically attracted to each other. nor does it mean they will ever be in a romantic relationship. you need to be more normal about touch and sex in general.
a character who truly, legitimately goes “but why does that matter?” about their feelings when someone who cares about them asks. and the sudden falling of everyone around them’s faces as they realize that this person doesn’t recognize themself as someone who needs or should be taken care of. i want Everyone to hurt. surprise at the idea, worry for them, horror at not having noticed. do you see this person who doesn’t think of themselves as a person?
And so when the sweet killer princess does it, it’s rather adorable, isn’t it? When I do it, I get called an abomination and my stores get messed about.
You’re Princess Liz, rather sure it’s in your job description, no? Ah, that’ll be the honeysuckle drying on the racks, though I appreciate the compliment.
Mind the cats on the way in, they tend to like frilly things!
And so when the sweet killer princess does it, it’s rather adorable, isn’t it? When I do it, I get called an abomination and my stores get messed about.
I just heard a stable boy complain how impossible it is to scratch an itch through his woolen hose, while watching the changing over of the guards, seemingly a victim of the biting flies about. I would like to remind everyone, before you share your woes with those around you, that some of us wear armour. Year round. I would also like to let everyone know there is some poison ivy at the west gate.
Also, completely unrelated, if anyone sees my squire please send them to the stables, I need their assistance removing a stick jammed in my left greave.
it appears another animal shall be knighted, the bunny now has an official portrait, made by the princess, even I don’t have one, and I’m her favorite knight!
A knight just barged into my examination room, claiming to have grown another member and proceeded to drop his braies still in the doorway. As it was, he just needs a salve and the wart will disappear, though, I beg, warn a bitch. Please.
Fatigue claws at me as I trudge up the staircase to my princess' tower rooms. Really, I should not be coming up here at all—when we had started this whole arrangement, it had been a somewhat cautious one. We had both sworn it to ourselves that it meant nothing beyond the physical, and that was that. I should not be going our weekly tryst in such a state: worn out, exhausted. She deserves better than that. She deserves passion and affection and strength, not some beaten-down man.
I am not sure I can give that to her in my current state.
Yet, I find her irresistible, and the thought of missing out on seeing her in any state at all is a devastating one. Then again, if I'm thinking such things, perhaps it would be better to call it off entirely.
My feet feel like lead; my thighs ache from the climb up. Eventually, though, I wind up like always at her door, and I rap at it thrice, pause, and knock twice more. She opens it up, a beaming smile on her lips. Despite all my aching, I'm still just a man, and my chest squeezes when I look at her. How could it not, when her hair is undone and she's dressed down in such a fashion? Her nightdress clings to her, molds around her perfect form.
The weight of my day dissipates into smoke as I drink in the sight of her; the doorway to her rooms is a portal to a different realm, and she is like some sort of fae creature who called my name through to it. Her eyes trace over my features, and I know I cannot have hidden my exhaustion well. Her smile softens from it's initial radiance to something more intimate, and she sees straight through the pretense of strength I had hoped to keep up.
"You're late," she murmurs, and it's as though her voice has wrapped velvet ribbons around my heart. She reaches out, her fingers cool and light as they brush against the fabric of my fabric of my shirt before sliding upwards to cup my jaw. I lean into her touch, my eyes fluttering shut. The feather-light touch of her palm transforms the ache in my muscles to a different kind of agony, a slow, liquid heat that pools in my gut.
"I wasn't sure I'd make it," I confess, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind my softly. I pull her closer, my hands settling on her waist, feeling the impossible, maddening softness of her through the silk of her nightdress. "Would that I could put on a show of bravado for you, my love, but I fear I don't have it in me."
She hums quietly, and instead of pulling away or demanding the strength I pride myself on, she only steps closer. The air in the room feels thick, heavy and sweet with the scent of lavender and candle wax. I feel as though I've fallen asleep after all, and have slipped into some sort of dream.
"I've no need for bravado," she whispers, her fingers sliding from my jaw to tangle gently in the hair at the nape of my neck. Her touch is grounding, and I exhale. Her hands move again, and she pushes me back gently until I'm left standing in the space before her cushioned chair near the fireplace. The flames dance orange and red and yellow across her skin, turning her to gold, and for a moment, I can't breathe, utterly taken by the sight of her.
She slips her arms out of her dress, her bright eyes on mine, and it locks me in a sort of trance. The silk slips off her shoulders, pools at her waist, and then falls away entirely, leaving her bare to me. She's utterly breathtaking—though of course that's nothing new—and I feel a familiar, sharp sting of unworthiness. An exhausted, world-weary thing in the presence of a goddess, I think. My fingers twitch at my sides, desperate to do something, anything, to be of service, to prove I belong at her side. She sinks into her chair.
"Kneel," she commands softly, and I can't do anything but obey. My knees meet the rug with a dull thud, and I duck my head, resting my hands on her thighs. The warmth that comes off of her is intoxicating; I am surrounded by heat, the fire at my back, her at my front. It's enough to make a man dizzy. She runs her fingers through my hair, and a quiet noise escapes me.
"You needn't perform," she murmurs. She tilts my head up such that I have to look at her, and her expression is more tender than it ought to be, though it's possessive, too. "You are my knight after all, aren't you? You belong to me. I take care of the things I own."
She shifts in the chair, parting her legs, and the sight of her soft, inviting folds is enough to make me forget every exhaustion that's plagued me.
"I know how you think," she whispers. "I have learned much more about you than you might know. Go on, come here." She guides my head toward the warmth between her thighs with a hand pressed firmly to the back of my head, her fingers threading through my hair.
I've always been a quick study; there's no need to tell me twice. I press in against her, my breath hitching as I lick a stripe up her glistening center, my eyes closing as I take in the sensation of her. My tongue traces over the sensitive folds, and they part open gently under my ministrations. Every time I draw back, she exhales raggedly, a soft keen that feels as though it's gone straight to my veins. Her hips tilt forward, and she presses herself more firmly to my mouth. I'm all too happy to oblige her; how could I not?
"Yes," she gasps, her voice trembling. Her fingers tighten in my hair, and I groan against her. "Oh, yes... that's it, sweet thing, that's it."
Her tone drips with a heady, commanding warmth that makes my head spin. She cards her fingers through my hair and down, squeezing gently at the tension in my neck, soothing. I get back to the task at hand with renewed fervor, my tongue licking up over her weeping entrance to circle around her clit in circles that have her hips bucking up against my mouth.
"Harder," she instructs, her voice breaking. "There you are, good. Good. Oh..." Any shred of tiredness I still possessed melts away at the praise, replaced by a singular desire to serve her in any way she might ask. Her breath hitches as she nears the edge, and I focus my hazy mind as best I can, my tongue working a desperate rhythm. She cums with a sharp cry; I can feel her cunt pulse against my mouth.
Her hand remains firmly against the back of my head, pressing me to her as the spasms of her orgasm fade. She exhales slowly, her head tipping back against the chair. I continue to lap at her, slowly, enjoying the salty-sweet of her release as I look up at her through half-lidded eyes.
"Good," she whispers. "Stay there, just for a while." I hum my eager assent, entirely content to stay at her feet as she basks in her pleasure. She cups my jaw in her hand after a while, the touch soft.
"Always so perfect," she whispers. "My loyal, devoted knight. Let yourself rest. I'm not finished with you."
Your Grouchiest Apothecary @apotholili - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
