Starting December 1st we will be holding a month long celebration for Dís- because she's worth it.
Below are 31 prompts for Dísember. Feel free free use whatever media you love to create something for/about Dís! Alternate universes, x reader, crossover, etc friendly.
Rules.
Have fun! Be kind!
No pressure to do all 31. Do them out of order. Post out of order. Use connecting ideas from the prompts! Go crazy and create!
No incest/abuse/non con.
No background Dís! Foreground Dís Content Only. Content should focus on Dís herself.
Tag: #dísember Use tag so we can support you and celebrate Dís!
Chapter 41 of ‘A Deep Misunderstanding’. Link to Series Masterlist. Also find it on A03!
MASTERLIST
OC(s) Used: Estel
Translation(s): Zirin u Uzbad: Iron of Kings
~~
This is the first new chapter I've written of ADM in SO long. It feels so odd to be getting back into it, but so right at the same time.
~~
As evening fell, word spread through our company of our plan to raid the armory. Nori disappeared to go do reconnaissance on the location, leaving the rest of us to stay and plan.
Thorin was adamant that we strike quickly and leave that night; an opinion that was unanimously shared by everyone else. I was slightly more skeptical on exactly how that would work.
I didn’t want to stay in this place any longer than the rest of them, but I didn’t think we could pull off such a scheme. There were just too many of us not to be noticed.
Dwarves weren’t exactly the quietest bunch either.
“Once Nori comes back, we can finalize our plan. No use in trying to figure out the details when we don’t even know where the place is.” Gloin offered the words of wisdom. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group of dwarrows.
I glanced over at them from my spot in the windowsill. Whether on purpose or not, I’d been excluded from the discussion. Or, at least, never invited to participate.
Not that that was important. I had no experience to offer them, so it made sense for me not to be asked my thoughts on the matter. Even if they had, they wouldn’t have liked anything I had to say. Part of being a voice of reason, I assumed.
Blue eyes rose to meet mine as Thorin raised his head from their plotting. He jerked his head minutely, silently motioning for me to join him.
I complied, weaving around Fili and Dwalin to stand by at Thorin’s side. He placed a broad hand on my back, drawing me flush against his side.
“What?” I asked softly, fidgeting with the laces of my shirt as I peered over at the sheet of paper they’d begun sketching a layout on. “You need a woman’s touch or something to whatever chicken scratch that is?” I motioned to the mostly unintelligible lines.
Thorin grinned, shaking his head. “No,” he murmured, leaning down slightly so only I could hear, “I just wanted to have you next to me.”
“Ah,” I nodded, laying my head against his shoulder. “That’s an acceptable excuse too.”
He chuckled, dropping his hand from my back in order to intertwine our fingers. “I’m glad I’m not intolerable to you.” The smile vanished as his face became serious. “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around lately. We’re so close to Erebor…Closer than I thought we would ever get. And the hardest part is yet to come still.”
I squeezed Thorin’s hand. The closer we had gotten to Erebor on this journey, the more Thorin’s moods turned dark. A shadow of something I didn’t recognize, but knew deep down I didn’t like, would flicker across his face.
I had heard the whispers around the fire at night. Of gold-sickness and the Arkenstone. The madness that afflicted Thorin’s family, and was almost certainly the reason why Erebor had been lost.
He worried over it. Was determined not to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather. But feared that he would fall just the same. And that trial had not yet come to pass. It loomed in front of him now that we were in Laketown.
“I will always be by your side, Thorin. You’re stronger than your past, amrâlimê.” I promised, trying to reassure this dwarrow who already had enough burdens to bear. “I trust you.”
A shadow of a smile appeared on his face as he looked at me. “Mahal forbid I do anything to break your trust.”
~~~
Nori’s arrival back brought a flood of new intel. Apparently, the armory was housed in the local jail, and the only access point that wasn’t in full view was a single small window on the second story.
“Are there any guards around it?” Thorin inquired, his hand still grasping mine. “Where is it located?”
“Far as I could see, there aren’t any guards in the place. It’s off a ways from the main bits of this floating slag heap, but the window’s on one of the canals. Doesn’t seem te get used much though.” Nori traced a finger down the map, delineating the canal in question.
Dwalin nodded silently, arms crossed over his chest. “How are ye suggestin’ we get in this place then?”
The grin that Nori wore sent chills down my spine.
“Oh, nothing difficult you know. Just a running start and a strong hand.” He shrugged, “for what I have in mind, you’ll need to be on the bottom.”
The murderous look Dwalin sent Nori’s way had the rest of us cracking up into stifled giggles. Nori being Nori, he had worded the sentence into an innuendo.
“Thorin,” Dwalin hissed, leaning over me to murmur in Thorin’s ear. “Ye canna be serious ‘bout lettin’ ‘im plan this.”
I looked over at the dark haired dwarrow beside me who wasn’t doing a thing to hide his smirk.
“Out of all of us, he has the most experience breaking into places. We need that iron, Dwalin.”
Dwalin sighed heavily. “Ah know we do…”
Thorin clapped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “There is a reason why each dwarf is here with us. Nori’s talents have a use, no matter how he happened to come by them. Now,” he turned to the rest of the gathered dwarrows. “We leave here at nightfall. Then once we have the weapons, we head for Erebor.”
Erebor. The word echoed through the group. The shining star at the end of this long journey.
~~~~
Miraculously, fourteen dwarves and a hobbit went unnoticed in the streets of Laketown as we made our way to the armory.
A fog was rising from the dank canals and spreading over the city, which helped our cause somewhat.
But nothing could stifle our heavy footfalls and mutters.
“Shh, keep it down.” Dwalin hissed at Bombur as we hid along the side of the armory while waiting for the pair of guards to wander away on the other side of the canal.
“As soon as we have the weapons, we’ll make straight for the mountain. We cannot delay any longer.” Thorin muttered, giving Nori the nod as the guards disappeared from sight. “Go, go, go.”
The dwarf clambered up the backs of the company, using them as human stairs to get high enough to slip through the window. And, just as he’d told us earlier, Dwalin was on the bottom, giving Fili a boost to act as the last stair.
Once he was through, Thorin nodded to Bilbo. “Next.”
The hobbit repeated the maneuver, awkwardly springboarding off the dwarrows to haul himself through the window.
“Bofur. Then Kili. Then me.” Thorin directed, then turned to me. “You stay down here with the rest. Keep an eye out for the guards.”
“Okay,” I nodded, “but are you sure about Kili? He’s got a wounded leg, remember?” I watched as Kili practically crawled up the last ‘step’ and had his brother practically shove him through the window. Thorin didn’t even turn around to see it.
“He’s fine, Estel. Kili’s gotten himself scraped up more times than I can count. He’s perfectly capable for this.” Thorin brushed my concerns off with a nostalgic smile and a shake of his head before he made his own ascent and forced himself through the small window.
Well, I couldn’t say I didn’t warn the dwarrow, but regardless, I hoped he was right.
With Thorin safely inside the armory, the rest of the company disentangled themselves and stood warily alongside the building.
“Did Nori mention the best way out of here?” I voiced the thought that struck me suddenly. “I know he said they were coming out that door at the bottom, but where are we going from there?”
I looked around at the rest of the dwarrows. It wasn’t like we were going to be inconspicuous with our newfound weaponry.
“To the mountain, of course.” Dori whispered, and I tried not to roll my eyes.
“Yes, I know that part. I was talking about how fourteen dwarves all carrying swords are going to sneak through Laketown without being noticed.”
“We’ll manage. It won’t be the first time for---” Balin’s calm reassurance was interrupted by an ear-splitting crash from within the armory.
We all stared at each other in horror for a moment before the sound of approaching footsteps sent us scrambling.
Thorin. I had a split second to worry before all hell broke loose.
“Run!” Dori yelped, only to stop short when a guard came around the corner and put a pike to his throat.
“Halt!” He barked, motioning over his shoulder and drawing more guards over to us.
“Keep yer head down an’ stay close.” Dwalin hissed under his breath to me as we were pushed forward.
I nodded once, watching as Fili maneuvered himself to flank me as the guards marched us around the corner and past the wagon we had all hidden behind a few minutes ago. The armory door was ajar and the guards stopped us from going any further.
One left us, peering through the door. “We’ve got a group of the dwarves here, Davrel. I assume they’re the companions of yours.”
I rose up on my toes, trying to see past him into the building. There had been no noise of a struggle once we had been apprehended, so I assumed there had been no choice but peaceful surrender.
“Git down.” Dwalin growled, catching sight of me trying to peer around him. He twisted slightly so he could grab my shoulder and shove me back down.
“Keep quiet! Another word and I’ll be seeing which of you can swim.” One of the other men who surrounded us threatened, looking directly at me.
I looked away quickly, trying to subtly hide myself behind one of the larger dwarrows as my heart began to pound.
Almost instantly, I found my mind wandering to what would happen if they found out I was a woman. What they would do differently to me.
The existence of dwarrowdames was a very closely guarded secret. It had become apparent to me very quickly that they—I should say we—were rare. And then Thorin had explained further the status given to their womenfolk because of that. That we were treasured and were to be protected at all costs.
So for a human man to learn what I was….I had heard too many stories about the curiosity of men about women.
A shudder went down my spine, and I suddenly found myself grateful that I’d had the foresight to change back into my original outfit before we left Bard’s house. The skirt would have been a dead give-away as to my sex. Not that there weren’t other obvious things about me that screamed ’female’.
While lost in my thoughts, I didn’t see the quick, subtle hand motions Dwalin made to the rest of the group, catching the eyes of those who didn’t see to make sure they did.
Don’t let them know E. is woman.
A commotion in the armory had us all watching as the rest of our group was led out at swordpoint. I restrained myself from trying to catch the first glimpse of Thorin, allowing myself to be shielded behind Dwalin as they were herded into our midst.
“Think that’s all of them?” The last man out of the building asked to the guard who was leaning against the doorframe.
He shrugged his shoulders, spitting onto the wooden walkway. “Looks to be. Sure are plenty of them.”
“Aye. Won’t make the Master happy at all…” He dropped his voice, the rest of his sentence unintelligible. The other one grimaced, straightening up and grabbing hold of his pike. “Move along, now!” He ordered, and we were funneled down the boardwalk.
Dwalin was almost immediately grabbed by one of the guards, who kept a tight hold on his arm as if they expected him to make a fuss. I drew back, trying to keep hidden in the middle of the crush.
Fili had moved up in the group, arm wrapped around Kili, who was limping. Obviously, his wound wasn’t just a mere scrape like Thorin had tried to play it off as.
The further into the city we went, the more people were gathered. Whispers followed us as we were led straight into the heart of the floating city. Speculations as to who we were and what we were doing.
And then, we were shoved through the crowd and before a towering building that loomed imposingly over the town and its occupants.
I was given a push that sent me stumbling, almost tripping over the uneven planks. Strong hands caught me, steadying me against a familiar broad figure. But just as quickly, Thorin released me, shooting a glare over at a man who I guessed had pushed me.
“Thorin—” I whispered, but he shook his head.
“They cannot know what you are. Stay silent and beside anyone but me.” He murmured quickly, taking a step away from me and allowing Dwalin to take his place.
I shivered as his warmth retreated. Snowflakes were falling gently from the sky, heralding the beginnings of winter. I didn’t fully understand why I couldn’t be associated with Thorin. He was obviously trying to keep my sex hidden from our audience, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t stand at his side.
The place where I felt the safest in this town.
“What is the meaning of this?” A new, irritated voice called out, and all eyes were drawn to the pair of men emerging from the building before us.
“We caught ‘em stealing weapons, Sire.” One of the guards spoke.
So this was the Master….This bloated, overfed man who so obviously rung this town dry of anything it could produce.
“Ah! Enemies of the state, huh?” He peered out at us, pulling his fur-trimmed robe closer around him as a gust of wind blew through the square.
“A desperate bunch of mercenaries, if ever there was, Sire.” The second man spoke in a drawl, prowling out from behind the Master like a cat.
Dwalin bristled. “Hold your tongue!” He strode forward, drawing all eyes onto him. “You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal. This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!” He introduced his friend as though we had reclaimed Erebor and ruled from it. The names of Thorin’s forefathers rang in the crisp air.
Murmurs erupted from the crowd as Dwalin said the last one.
As I stood, watching Dwalin defend my husband, Thorin stepped past me, coming to join him in the middle of the circle. Passing by his friend, Thorin inclined his head, exchanging a look before facing the Master.
“We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland.” His deep baritone thrummed through the square, prompting a whole new round of excited mutters from the crowd.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach upon hearing those words spoken aloud for the first time. Suddenly, everything seemed…real. Like until this moment, this entire journey—and what we were planning to accomplish—didn’t exist.
Thorin began walking, locking eyes with members of the crowd. “I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbour, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake. This was the center of all trade in the north!
“I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!”
The crowd cheered around us, and I watched as the Master exchanged a look with his black-robed companion. But they were forgotten by all as Thorin gave the crowd hope for their future.
This. This was who he was meant to be. It was so easy for me to see how comfortable Thorin was in this situation. The ease with which he spoke to these people who struggled to eke out their existence.
He was no princeling brought up on tales of grandeur and riches. He had fought tooth and nail to earn his position and do right by his people. He had walked miles in the same shoes as these folk. Thorin had always chosen the hard path over the easy.
That is what earned the respect of these people around us. Why they so easily warmed to him. They recognized the kindred soul who understood their hardships. Who was so different from their current leader who leeched off their hard labour for his gain.
Thorin met my eyes as I watched him from behind Gloin. He smiled minutely, not giving away any hints to those around us who might be watching.
“Death! That is what you’ll bring upon us!” Bard’s voice rang through the air, and he shoved his way through the crowd, passing by me and stopping in front of Thorin. “Dragonfire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all.”
Thorin stared him down for a heartbeat before he turned slowly back to the crowd. “You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; if we succeed all will share in the wealth of the mountain.”
He was unruffled; confident in the crowd’s reaction to his words. But there was still the oliphant in the room.
If. The word we treaded so carefully upon.
“You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!” Thorin boomed, and the crowd erupted again into cheers.
Balin leaned over to whisper in my ear, unable to keep from smiling. “Laddie’s in his element now.”
“It’s in his blood.” I murmured back.
Bard turned to look at the crowd, casting his gaze over them with furrowed brow. Like he didn’t understand why Thorin’s promises were so well received.
How could they not? This was something straight out of a fairy tale—a king returning to reclaim his stronghold and the riches within. I was willing to bet this was the first glimpse of hope these people had seen in a long while.
“All of you!” Bard entreated. “Listen to me, you must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm? And for what purpose?”
Women began to shake their heads, gazes cast down to the ground. The men looked staunchly ahead; reliving the tales that had been passed down from their fathers.
Bard swung about to look back at Thorin. “The blind ambition of a Mountain King, so driven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!”
Thorin’s sapphire eyes turned ice cold; his jaw set as if he couldn’t trust himself not to speak out.
The Master cleared his throat, reminding us all that he still existed and was watching this whole exchange. “Now, now. We must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame.” He shook his finger like he was telling off a naughty child. “Let us not forget, that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!”
“That’s the pot callin’ the kettle black, right there.” Gloin muttered to Dori, who nodded.
“Aye, he’s just as much at fault.”
Beside the Master, his lackey nodded sagely. “It’s true, Sire. We all know the story. Arrow after arrow, he shot. Each one missing its mark.” He tsked sadly, managing to not look sorry at all while doing so.
“You have no right. No right to enter that mountain.” Bard’s voice was quiet as he looked down on Thorin.
Mutters ran through the dwarves. I bit my lip, silently disagreeing with his words. He did not understand what we had all gone through in order to reach this point. What we had fought or outrun. What demons we had battled in our minds.
And that was only on this quest. What I knew about the fall of Erebor and all that happened afterwards only scratched the surface of what really went down. The struggles that each and every one of these dwarves had faced. How they had suffered and struggled to make a living hundreds of miles from where they had been born and raised. I could never truly understand, having not been there that day.
Thorin met his gaze easily. “I have the only right.” He murmured, turning away from the man to address the Master. “I speak to the Master of the men of the lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?”
I fully expected the greed of the man to present itself instantly. How could he turn away such riches? But he hesitated, and my heart dipped in my chest.
Thorin asked him again, voice deepening into a command. “What say you?”
“I say, unto you….” The Master swallowed hard before throwing his hands out wide, “welcome! Welcome and rise! Welcome, King Under the Mountain!”
The crowd erupted into cheers. Bard was the only person who seemed disappointed that the Master approved of Thorin. He stood with his back to me so I couldn’t see his expression, but he certainly wasn’t cheering with the rest of the townsfolk.
“Come! Join me in celebrating your return and continued success on your journey!” The Master invited, grinning broadly. “Dine at my table before you set out for the mountain.”
We all exchanged looks. Balin shrugged. “I’ve never been one to turn down a good meal, particularly now.”
“Probably a good bit of ale, too.” Bofur chimed in, and with that, we filed up the stairs and into the Master’s house.
Let's be real, we all love Dís in one way or another. So she's gonna ask you about your day and help you out. Okay? 😏 okay!
Ao3
I wrote with younger Dís in mind. You're a human in the isolated mountains. Good thing you have a friend to keep you company. :)
I like to imagine you have a small farm. Maybe a young infant and Dís took a shining to you two and likes seeing your goats or whatever animal you fancy having. Maybe you met when you got lost in a surprise heavy snow and Dís gets you and your kiddo home. (Ghillie Dhu much!)
This fic hits sapphic research bingo: ovulation✔ wearing someone else's clothing ✔ teasing dominant ✔
HOW WAS YOUR DAY?
Laying upon the bed you relax back, legs dangling off the edge. Allowing the work day to fall away. The stress and weight crumbling off your shoulders. You only tense when the bed dips dramatically, you peer from beneath your arm at her.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, Dís runs a hand along your legs, easing up the fabric. Her fingers drag up over your knees. Tantalizingly pushing the fabric of her tunic up your body. Thrilling at how you looked wearing her clothes. Possessiveness spikes knowing you slept in it every night now.
The moment she saw you were wearing it at your door?
That's when it was all over for any platonic cuddling that night. No gentle tending. You bumped against something in her cloak the moment you went to hug her. Whispering into her ear, “disarm yourself.”
“Youve already disarmed me.” She murmured autumnal and dark, her hand played with strands of your hair. Only frowning when you pull back a layer of clothing revealing the nearest blade. Nestled in an oft used hiding place upon her body.
“Dís, if you don't intend to stab me.” Your voice trailed off, eyes meeting hers meaningfully. Her lopsided smile takes a dark turn but you don't budge. Your finger presses upon the handle of the dagger. “Away with your talons, Raven Master.” With a bassy laugh she walks over to the hutch disarming herself. While she places her things high above away from prying hands, your eyes trail over her back.
A back you now have a lovely view of as she sat upon your bed, despite her blue tunic concealing her skin.
You bite your lip, feeling a chill over your skin as air hits your core. Cold due to the unusually harsh winter. On cold nights like this you always wished she would visit. On this night she had blown in with the snow. Blustering sheets of wet snow built along her shoulders. While she undid her boots you put more logs on the fire, snatching her boots from her. Placing them upon the rack to dry before the growing flames.
Her eyes peer down with subtle curiosity, soaking in every inch of skin she reveals. “My my my. You ARE in a state.” Her eyes search your face with a tilting head and narrowing eyes. “Are you at that time again?” With another look she mumbles aside, “you certainly smell it.”
“Oh stop it.” You chide waving dismissively at her, arm laying over your eyes. Hiding away from her for a brief respite. If you could shield yourself from Dís’ attractiveness perhaps you could make it. Perhaps you could forget how her illuminated blue eyes pierce your soul. Or how she's back lit by the warm fire making her dark brown hair all but burn with a halo of fire.
Given her body's state that metaphor was all too appropriate. All too deep.
Oh Dís. What did you know of Dís? Not enough. Her body told stories you could decipher: fire, war, grief, and agony. When she wasn't aware you were looking or, sometimes, even awake you witnessed the pain in her gaze upon the hearth.
There is nothing profound about pain.
It simply is.
It isn't beautiful or holy. It isn't dark or sinful.
It simply is.
It is to be witnessed and honored.
It's why you had saved and commissioned a metal barrier between the hearth and the world. Saying nothing of it. Not even when she looked at it and complimented it- her way of subtly asking for an explanation.
You couldn't heal Dís from fire. But you could put something between her and the heat for her nocturnal visits.
“Is it?” She repeats. Her hot fingers provoke restrained breaths and instinctively your hips shift. “That time?” To be as sensitive and raw as your body felt meant one thing: ovulation. The few days when you were on edge with need above all else. Now that she is in your life? You wanted her with ardent hunger.
Your legs clench trying to hide how wet you had become from your kissing. From the two of you curling against one another while your lips press and play. But beneath her molten gaze your legs slowly fall open, unraveling beneath her touch.
“Dís?” Whispering her name in askance, curiosity raises your brow.
“How would you like something nice?” Dark hair falling over her shoulder, you exchange lust glazing stares. Her lower lip tugs beneath her teeth.
You nod hiding a bashful smile. It begins slowly, with her fingers massaging your mons.
Her orbiting touch melts you against the blanket. Head resting back again merely admiring her and the heat she was building in your body. “I like that.” You murmur huskily, your fingers trail up and down her spine. Enjoying the tremble that accompanies the soft tease.
“Would you like that?” You ask. Your fingers on her scarred skin may feel faint. Burns. Nerve damage. But there's one place you've found where the skin on her spine is untouched. When you stroke your finger along that line of pink skin Dís always inhales sharply. The gentle tease that sends lightning through her body.
She nods, fingers teasing your curls with admiring brushes and skimming presses against your mons. Smirking when your hips involuntarily flex back then rise. Rising to her. Pursuing her touch.
“Dís.” Her name leaves your lips like spring thunder. Your eyes soak her in. Dirt taking in the sudden torrent of water, the power of her washes over you. You held a deep appreciation for the storm of her.
Her lips quirk into a sly smile upon her face. “Follow my lead?”
“Unfortunately for you? I always will.” You assure watching her with hormone drunk eyes. She could lead you off a cliff and you would follow. Slipping your fingers again into the side slit of her tunic until you find the sparsely dappled hairs along her back.
Already the anticipation is drumming up the heat in your body to an unbearable level. “Dís of the ravens, will your wonders ever cease?”
She says your name, right before she grabs you. Pulling you down the bed until your hips are beside her. Ignoring your gasp of confusion as you feel yourself slide over the soft blanket. She tugs again, hoisting your lower body into her lap. Folding your knees against her opposite side. You obligingly prop up your top leg. Where Dís applies a generous rub to your lower leg, grazing every inch of skin on its way up to your heating core.
Her opposite hand heavy on your side holding you steady, she mumbles “now stay in my lap. Do not fall.”
An affirming mumble breaks free just as her palm rests against where you ached for her the most.
“You want me here?” Her teasing inquiry comes with a skim of her palm over your folds. Loving how exposed you were like this. How you lay pliant for her with only strained sighs and a singular flex of your hips indicating how heavy your desire was.
Your eyes meet hers, curled against her you raise her tunic. Pressing your hand against her lower back. Watching her skin coat with goosebumps. “First. Take this off.”
She obliges, stiffly placing it beside her, before she returns to you.. Something flashing in her eyes when you look upon her. Smaug's gifts lay blatantly clear upon her entire body.
“Dís?” You call to her heart, running your hand up the back of her arm.
Her gaze upon her finger which drags circles around your slit. Edging ever closer. “Mm?”
You feel her fingertip coming closer and closer. Your body shivers with each rotation with your skin rising from the grave. Releasing a pent up sigh. Your eyes close. Deciding how to word the feelings in your heart. You settle upon the simplest and truest one's. It's only then that you open your eyes again.
Glancing back to her. “I am glad you are here.” Here tonight. Here alive. The double meaning drifts on the warming air.
They way her eyes drift to your's speak volumes. She understands what you are saying.
“Tell me about your day.” Dís prompts calmly, watching her own work with a pleased smile. Admiringly studying how your hips jerk when her finger grazes certain places. How you glisten in the warm light, only growing more aroused with every passing rotation.
“My day? What of yours?” You inquire. Your finger traces her name along her back. Then each soft name you had for her. One by one until your hand snatches away as Dís finger presses inside you.
Your hips press against her. Spasming around her finger, you throatily moan her name. Eyes fluttering closed as you feel your body mold around her. Loving how she fills you.
Sighing you swallowing louder noises as her finger delves deeper. Knuckle passing all the way in. Sending your back arching and your eyes momentarily rolling, “oh, Dís.”
“Mmhmm?” She hums pleasantly. “How was your day?” She asks again, eyes fixated on how her finger delves in and out of you. Thrilling when you clench her finger and then needily pull her in. She waits until you open your mouth to answer, and then and only then does she crook her finger.
You release a short husky gasp. Your opposite hand clutches the blanket. She loves it. Loves watching your responses to her touch. She speaks your name, prompting a response to her question.
How could you answer when she was a finger deep inside you?! Knuckles deep inside you. Stroking your gummy ceiling until she comes upon your most sensitive spot. Tingles of desire shoot through you over and over. “Dís….” Your face tenses and twists enduring wave after wave, voice shaking.
“How was your day?” She repeats again, playing a mutual game now. Thoroughly satisfied with how loud your soaking core sounds around her thick finger. Adoring how you were falling undone, watching you struggle to keep a straight face. Whenever you open your mouth to answer? Her finger presses hard enough that you cry out.
“Feeling better? You're certainly holding tight to me.” She chuckles, stirring her finger inside you now. Enjoying how you squirm and tremble with every single one. How each rotation pulls sound after sound from each part of you.
“Yes!” You rasp burying your face against the blanket. “Yes, so much.” Just the echo of your voice and body builds her high. Watching your toes curl and your hips quiver pleases her to no end.
She hums curiously, peering down at where you spasm around her finger. “I reckon I could fit a second in you.” Her gleaming blue eyes glide to you, a devilish smirk upon her lips. “Do you want another?”
Clenching around her finger at the thought,you barely register reality. All you can do is rapidly nod. Blinking back tears of pleasure at how good you felt. How accurately Dís stroked the embers of your hearth.
Her second finger joins the first, stretching you. Filling you. The action catalyzed a cry of surprise-surprise at how sudden the pleasure of it hits you. Surprised by how good it felt.
Tears leak from the corner of your eyes. “Dís!!” Choking back whimpers, your fingers dig into the blanket. Clawing for stability all while her fingers delve in and out. Each one punctuated by a needy cry.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Panting heavily into the bed your body tightly clenches her within your spasming core. Each passing second of your climax sends you careening off into another spiral.
Her fingers? Not stopping. Your trembling? Not stopping. Your pitiful whimpers and moans? Growing louder. Your wet sounds heat your face.
Only Dís could bring this out of you. You only felt this comfortable with her. Her playfulness only revealed in the safety and circumstances she deemed worthy.
Her hand is still holding your hips firm in place, denying you any retreat or movement necessary to sate yourself. "Listen to the noise you're making around my fingers.” She shakes her head with a patient smile, “you just can't get enough of me. Such a wonder for my self esteem.” She jokes, her finger alternating between stroking your walls and pumping in and out.
“Your self esteem!?” A laugh breaks through a strangled moan. Cracking open an eye, you watch her face. “Your self esteem is FINE!” Biting back another whimper. “YOU do this to me.” You rasp, licking your lips. Enjoying how the angular planes catch the light and her lips twist in satisfaction as your hips jolt involuntarily.
“No, no.” She corrects calmly, gathering you back up. Enjoying how soft you are in your thighs and hips. Exhaling strongly in anticipation of more tending to you. More ideas percolate in her mind. Her eyes cast down to you, calling your name. “ Don't move. Tonight? I am taking care of you.”
Summary: You were given the illustrious promotion of messenger for your king. A title that came with all the dangerous associated with delivering unsettling, unsettling, and unwanted news. But the Dwarven Kingdom was by far your favorite to deliver to-if only because you got to see her. But does she look at you how you her? Or is it all Political?
Dwarrowdam OC (unnamed so you can project lol) x f! Human reader.
Full version Weds night!
Your fingers interlace with hers, tugging them close so you may pepper her fingers with gentle kisses. Each one a raindrop on the surface of her skin. Each one intentionally placed with admiration and appreciation.
“Considerate, as always. I would like to continue if you do?” Peering at her your inquiry seems welcome. Her hand slipping from yours returns to your hip. Skimming along the fabric there. A small relieved puff of air soars from her nose.
“I do. Now this time: relax.” Grasping you she sits you up on the desk with uncanny ease. Her voice hot against your ear as she leans against you, “and let me kiss you.”
Parchment slides and crumbles beneath you when she presses you back onto the desk. Her body flush against your hips, bending over you pursuing your tongue. The crisp sound of paper ripping mingles with the sound of her above you.
Your hands tangle in her hair. Instinctively your legs rise to rest upon her. A move that provokes an appreciative growl, her hand snakes back to clutch your thigh in a firm squeeze. Never once abating from your kiss. Your legs squeeze her harder- as hard as you could. It barely makes an impact on her body, but her drive is another matter entirely.
Moans and breath mingles between you. When it comes to entanglement nothing compares to her. You could roll with her all day. Her body pressing down upon you makes the knot in your stomach tighter and tighter. Your legs twitch and your hips twist in need. Parts of you were winding tight while others melted into putty. You were malleable in her hands. Completely laxed beneath her.
She parts from your kiss, gazing down at you as your head falls back provoking another crumbling noise of shifting papers. “I didn't think to clean my desk earlier.” She snorts indignantly, but pleased with the events. “But I don't mind working after hours for you.”
Catching your breath, you shake your head. “You are incorrigible. Unbelievable.” You add watching her rise back up, her hand sliding into her pocket. Retrieving a small tin of stain, her fingertip trailing the color back over her swollen lips.
Mesmerized your eyes stick to her finger and do not unglued themselves. Instead you begin sitting up yourself, only for her hand to catch your chest. “We aren't finished here.” Pressing you back upon the desk her devious smile flips your stomach and dries your throat.
Coating her finger in stain she leans back over you. Humming pleasantly while she jovially and sensually drags her hue covered finger over your lips. Staining you the same color.
Standing back up she observes her work. “My, that color does look good on you.” She praises, her finger wiped dry and the tin placed safely away.
Face warm from the intimacy of it all you swallow. Tentatively your fingers run over your lips, peering at the residual color upon your skin.
dwarrowdams are just basically the trex from jurassic park
Lesbians and Queers without Fears, you know what I'm talking about.
What pronouns do you use? you brilliant axe/sword wielding blood covered killing machine that can snap me in absolute half with one arm? Just curious by the way!
