Would love to be a princess who was kidnapped by a big scary red dragon and kept in the tallest tower that he guards day and night. The dragon originally just keeps you for ransom, but slowly falls madly in love and decides that even after the kingdom pays for your freedom, he doesn't let you go.
Pleading to be released, but all he does is drag you closer on his bed of golden plunder and snuggle into your softness. Well, as much as he can. He's way too big for you to handle entirely. He'll have to look into his old archives of magic tombs and see about a spell that will allow him to turn human for a short while so he can show you just how much you mean to him, your Highness.
i wish there were more alternative isekai’d (fem/gn! considering that’s what i typically read but in general it’s whatever) readers especially when it’s in fantasy settings…it would be such a cool trope especially if reader is very vocal in what they believe in and it rattles the people they are around. alt isekai’d reader pushing for gender equality, women’s rights, and education of the “commoners”/“peasants”, etc very out spoken on their/her hatred for men(optional ig) and how they treat women. it would also be fun to see how the characters would react to reader’s personality and beliefs and the piercings and/or tattoos along w the alt clothing style and makeup. i feel the same w like a modern! reader time traveling like as in a modern!reader from that universe. i also like when that trope of reader is able to have their phone or smth from the og world with them. iit’s just kind of surprising yet that no one that ik of has written of an isekai’d reader w piercings and/or tattoos when it’s a pretty common thing in majority of places and a lot more accepted in today’s society for the most part. i also wish we saw more of the struggle of isekai’d/time traveled main characters have in general accommodating and adapting to a completely different society and culture??? and learning to keep references under wraps to avoid messing with the timeline or being accused of witchcraft or whatever. idk i might write it eventually but tyy for reading this little rant😭
▶︎ The Friendly Knight (starring. some original characters Various! x Fem!reader)
synopsis. You were thrown into this world, a book that you read from time to time and now this was just a small day of respite with the Knight.
A series of one shots that I want to put out
The jealousy that often surfaced when you thought about the life you used to have felt almost embarrassing now. It was difficult to dwell on it when you were surrounded by a beautiful village and even more charming people to complement it.
The days spent trying to understand this world beyond what you had once read in the pages of a book were unlike anything you could have imagined. No matter how detailed a page was, it could never truly capture the whole of something. None of it could ever be translated completely into ink.
Being thrown into a world filled with power while possessing none of your own had been a devastating blow to your ego. Especially when all you had ever dreamed of was becoming part of the magical wonders this world had to offer.
A breeze brushed against your face, tickling your nose as you tried to make sense of your thoughts.
"Are you nervous?" A voice emerged from behind you.
Your role in this world was that of the princess's lady's maid. It wasn't particularly glamorous, but it came with one major advantage: you weren't part of the main cast. From your perspective, there was far too much emotional turmoil among them. Each one nagging to be the one that ends up with her. Gladly you didn't have to deal with that.
The princess's many suitors were all kind people, but following their stories felt strange. In the novel, it was entertaining enough. Living through it, however, felt like aging decades overnight and finding yourself at fifty while watching a group of teenagers stumble through first love.
Today, the princess's knight had been assigned to accompany you. It was odd how much the princess fussed over you, but it afforded you a comfortable life, so you couldn't complain too much. On your rare days off, you liked wandering through the market. You didn't leave the castle often, but whenever you did, it was nice to mingle with ordinary people.
"Ive been around town before," you laughed. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."
You often wondered whether the knight's constant concern was the result of the princess's orders or simply his nature.
"Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he continued walking beside you. "What are we looking for today?"
"I'm already spoiled enough back at the palace, but I think it'd be cool to check out some of the trinkets around here." Admittedly, you had once tried to suppress your old slang. However, after years of living through a second growing up and life you suppose, you had stopped caring. It felt like one of the few pieces of your old life you still possessed.
"Now I'm the one getting nervous," the knight huffed. "For your sanity, because I don't think you're nearly as spoiled as you claim."
"Yeah, right." If the knight wasn't constantly following you around like an exceptionally well trained guard dog, his argument might have been easier to believe. Your wardrobe alone was proof enough.
Every dress you owned was made from luxurious silk in varying shades of baby blue and pink. They were undeniably beautiful, but they were also wildly impractical. Not that it mattered you weren't allowed to wear anything else.
The arrangement had earned more than a little resentment from the other servants. Many of them thought it was ridiculous, and honestly, you couldn't entirely blame them. Still, it wasn't something you had any control over. The princess treated you less like a maid and more like a doll she had stubbornly refused to outgrow.
The walk into town was short.
The palace sat at the heart of the kingdom, elevated just enough to loom over the city below. White stone walls gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, visible from nearly every street like the kingdom's own personal star.
The knight walking beside you had become one of your closest friends over the years.
At least, you assumed that was how he saw you.
Whenever the two of you found yourselves in the servants' quarters, he somehow always ended up sitting in front of you while you fixed whatever part of his appearance he'd neglected. Straightening his collar. Brushing dust from his uniform. Retiring his hair after training.
He always had an excuse. His favorite was particularly absurd. "We both work directly under the princess, so it only makes sense that I come to you."
You still had no idea what that was supposed to mean.
The logic was complete nonsense, but eventually you'd give up trying to understand it. You simply assumed he felt comfortable around you.
The thought made you smile. You remembered your first meeting surprisingly well. Back then, both you and Princess Veria had only been sixteen. The king had summoned her to the Great Hall, and after declaring that she absolutely could not attend alone, she'd dragged you along despite repeated objections from the royal staff.
Standing before the thrones of the King and Queen was a boy.
"This is the one?" Princess Veria asked, sounding genuinely alarmed.
The king sighed. You remembered desperately wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. One thing that set Veria apart from most noble daughters was that she possessed absolutely no sense of restraint. If she disagreed with something, everyone within hearing distance would know.
"Veria," the king said patiently, "I wanted to introduce you to your personal guard."
The princess looked toward the boy.
At the time, his hair had reminded you of ash after a fire of soft silver strands falling across his forehead. His skin was pale from years spent training indoors rather than laboring beneath the sun, and despite the sword at his side, he looked strangely nervous standing before the royal family.
More than anything, he looked out of place.
"Why?" she asked.
You nearly died. How could she possibly speak to her father like that? The king, however, didn't seem remotely surprised.
"Don't be difficult," the queen said, amusement dancing through her voice. "You'll be taking on more responsibilities soon. If you're expected to lead nobles one day, you'll need someone capable of protecting you."
Veria folded her arms and looked the knight over.
She had never been particularly fond of having men around her. Most of the young noble sons she'd met were insufferable, arrogant, or both. Still, this one seemed harmless enough. Not especially charming, not particularly impressive, but at least he looked like he possessed a functioning brain.
Then he glanced away from her. Toward you. The moment Veria noticed the subtle softening in his expression, it was over.
The princess whipped around to face the throne. "I don't want him."
Before anyone could react, she marched across the hall, wrapped both arms around you, and pulled you firmly against her side.
Then she glared at the knight. It was not a good day for your cortisol levels.
"Veria..." the king warned.
"No."
"Veria."
"No."
Her grip tightened. The glare she directed at the poor boy could have frozen an ocean.
The knight looked completely bewildered. You weren't doing much better.
"Rotten luck, daughter," the king said with a weary sigh. "The assignment has already been approved."
It had been one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Even now, five years later, you still had no idea why she'd reacted so strongly. You'd spent weeks apologizing to the knight on her behalf, followed immediately by several lectures directed at Veria herself about respecting her parents and new people around her.
Neither effort had accomplished much. Thankfully, time had softened everything.Still, whenever you thought back to that first meeting, a grimace immediately came to mind. The poor man never stood a chance.
By the time you reached the market district, however, the memory had faded beneath a far more important distraction.
Your attention darted from stall to stall, immediately captivated by the countless displays lining the streets. You couldn't use magic yourself, but that hardly stopped you from appreciating it. To your left, a weaponsmith had several enchanted swords displayed on a rack outside his shop. Traces of elemental magic shimmered across their blades a glow dancing along one edge, frost clinging to another.
Your eyes practically sparkled. to you that was so fucking cool.
“You know I’m here to protect you. If you’re looking to be on your own, then you should remember that I’ll always be by your side.” The knight's voice carried a hint of disappointment as he watched you drift farther into the weapon shop.
“Wyll, you and I both know that’s not true,” you replied with a small laugh. “Besides, I just think it’s an amazing sight.”
You stepped closer to the display of enchanted swords. One of the fire infused blades seemed to radiate a gentle warmth, its crimson runes glowing faintly beneath the polished steel. Captivated, you immediately began questioning the salesperson about the history of each weapon, the forging process, and the magic woven into their construction.
Beside you, Wyll gave you a quiet once over. Though he served the crown and had been assigned to your side just to watch over you by the princess, he had been hopelessly smitten from the very first day he met you.
He never quite understood your fascination with magic. Coming from a ducal family, he had been surrounded by it his entire life. Enchanted artifacts, powerful mages, elemental weaponry were all ordinary to him. Yet every spell and magical trinket seemed to fill you with wonder.
Perhaps, he thought, it was a testament to your innocence. How cute.
In the original novel, Wyll had been nothing more than the princess's loyal friend. Readers had spent years questioning why he was never considered a love interest. He was gentlemanly, dependable, and kind to a fault. Even if the princess herself never regarded him as particularly handsome, he was undeniably one of the author's most striking character designs.
Wyll himself never received much attention in the story. Most of his scenes involved accompanying the princess or standing guard beside her.
The two of you often spent your time mocking the ridiculous suitors who came seeking her hand whenever formal introductions were arranged.
Still, he couldn't deny that he disliked how excited you became whenever those suitors appeared. To him, it looked like you were simply fawning over handsome men. Perhaps there was a touch of jealousy involved. Not that he would ever admit it.
True, he was the son of a duke, but with an older brother set to inherit everything, his own prospects were considerably less impressive.
Little did he know, your excitement had nothing to do with the men themselves. You were excited about the routes. Every new suitor meant another potential storyline for Veria.
Unfortunately, you had never finished the novel series in your previous life, leaving you completely unaware of who she ultimately ended up with. While you liked to think you had matured beyond your former fangirl tendencies, that part of you never truly disappeared.
“What beautiful craftsmanship,” you said after finishing your conversation with the salesperson. “The weapon work here is really admirable.”
You turned back toward Wyll.
Want to know what else is beautiful? The thought appeared uninvited. He shoved it away immediately.
“They are impressive,” he said instead. “Though I’ve only worked with ice and quantum swords myself.”
He lifted an arm casually.
“Quantum?” Your eyes widened. “That’s surprising.”
You instinctively grabbed his arm.
A grin tugged at his lips. “Surprising? You think I can’t handle it?”
“I’m sure you can. I’m just shocked because don’t knights usually master the elemental disciplines before moving on to quantum?”
“Well,” he said, trying and failing to sound modest, “those with exceptional talent tend to advance a little faster.”
“Oh, how humble of you.”
You brushed a strand of hair from your face as you rolled your eyes.
“I’m allowed to be proud of my accomplishments.”
Eventually, the two of you moved into the bookstore next door. The moment you stepped inside, you immediately wandered away from Wyll, drawn toward rows upon rows of books stacked from floor to ceiling. The familiar scent of old parchment and ink wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.
There was little point in studying magic. Without any mana of your own and no way to control it, such books would only serve as a reminder of what you lacked. Instead, you gravitated toward history, folklore, and fiction. If this was truly your life now, then you needed an escape somewhere. As your fingers skimmed over the spine of a weathered novel, a familiar voice suddenly cut through the atmosphere.
"I cannot believe my eyes." You froze. That voice. Turning around, your eyes widened. Standing several feet away was a young man with dark hair and an amused smile spread across his face.
"Viktor!" The book nearly slipped from your hands.
Without a second thought, you rushed toward him. The viscount barely had time to brace himself before you collided with him in a hug. A laugh escaped him as he caught you effortlessly.
"There she is."
You grinned so hard your cheeks hurt. Of all the people to run into today, Viktor was the last person you expected. He wasn't even supposed to be here. he was little more than a background character mentioned in passing. Someone that was in flashback that helped Veria with some tutoring when they were simply small children.
Yet to you, he meant much more than that. When you had first arrived in this world terrified, confused, and nearly drowned in a river. Viktor had been the one to find you. The one to pull you from the water. The one who made sure you survived those first frightening days. You'd never forgotten it.
He spun you once before setting you back on your feet. "I've missed you, man," you blurted out. "Seriously. Things have been so different without you around."
Your hands rested on his forearms as you looked up at him. The years had changed him. He'd grown taller. Not to drool but also looked very good.
"Well, I would hope so," Viktor chuckled. "It's been what? Six years?"
"Something like that."
"Hm." His gaze softened looking at the dress you had been draped in. "Looks like my little sheep has been doing well for herself."
You rolled your eyes immediately. "Oh no. Not that nickname."
"Oh yes. Were you not a lost lamb in need of shelter." he gloats
"You sound crazy."
"And?" You groaned while he laughed.
"Yes, she has done good for herself."
The sudden voice made both of you turn. Wyll had appeared beside you. Several books were stacked neatly in his arms, the ones he'd gathered while looking around the store. Books he thought you might enjoy. Unfortunately, the pleasant feeling he'd had while picking them out had vanished the second he walked back and found another man holding you.
A nobleman, no less. His expression remained polite.
"Ah," Viktor said, eyes lighting with amusement. "And you've got yourself a knight. I always knew you were special."
"Why is everyone boosting my ego today?"
Viktor laughed; he always enjoyed your less than nuanced way of speaking.
"No, seriously," you continued. "After you sent me to the castle all those years ago, I ended up meeting Wyll while working under the princess."
Wyll gave Viktor a polite nod. The viscount returned it. Neither man looked particularly impressed by the other. You, however, remained blissfully unaware. Wyll stepped forward and, with almost suspiciously casual movements, inserted himself between you and Viktor. The books shifted into one arm as he did so.
You blinked. Viktor's smile widened. ‘Oh,’ he thought. "This is entertaining."
"On that topic," Wyll said smoothly, "don't you think the princess may want us back soon? We wouldn't want to keep her waiting."
The words were perfectly reasonable.
You narrowed your eyes. "I don't think we've been gone that long."
Wyll gestured toward the bookstore windows. The sun had shifted noticeably lower. "You know how she is."
He had a point. The princess had a talent for becoming drastic whenever she couldn't find you for too long. She gets quite fussy when it's your day off because she always wanted to be near you.
"I suppose." A little disappointment slipped into your voice.
You'd only just found Viktor again.
"I like this one." the viscount said.
You blinked. "What?"
"The knight." he continued
Wyll frowned.
"Very loyal."
The frown deepened.
"Nice pet."
For a brief moment, you genuinely wondered if a murder might occur inside the bookstore. To his credit, Wyll's expression barely changed. To his discredit, the grip tightening around his books suggested he was imagining several ways to dispose of a viscount's body. The audacity of this pompous asshole. He honestly wanted to sock the guy for calling him a pet but he couldn’t deny that he is loyal to you through and through. If you asked him to walk into a burning building, he'd probably ask how many floors.
"Ignore him," you sighed.
"I intend to."
Viktor laughed loudly.
"I'd still like to see you again," he said, directing his attention back to you. "Could I call on you sometime?"
Your face immediately brightened. "Of course! You know I'd see you in a heartbeat."
The answer came so quickly that Wyll visibly frowned. You failed to notice. Again.
"I'll have to check with the princess first, though," you added. "I'm surprisingly busy these days."
"As I would expect." Viktor reached for your hand. "I would never dream of intruding." he lifted your hand and pressed a light kiss against your knuckles.
Wyll looked seconds away from developing a migraine.
You simply smiled. "It was good seeing you again, Viktor."
"And you as well, little sheep."
"There it is again." you laughed out at the stupid name.
"There it is." With a final laugh, the viscount stepped away and headed toward the exit. The bell above the bookstore door chimed softly as he disappeared outside.
For a moment, you watched him go. When you first met him you had no idea what and where you were, in fact he had just been seventeen when finding a girl in all white struggling to get out of a lake. He felt normal before finding out you were in some nonsensical situation.
"Ready to go?" You turned toward Wyll. His expression had settled back into its usual calm neutrality.
"What pissed in your food?" Without waiting for an answer, you relieved him of several books and began inspecting the titles.
"I don't think you should have strange men calling on you."
"First of all, he's not strange. I feel like that interaction made that pretty obvious."
You flipped through one of the books.
"Secondly, I know what you're thinking, but calling on someone doesn't automatically mean romance. If I said I was calling on you, would that mean I'm asking you out?"
You turned to another page. To Wyll, it felt like being transformed into a wilted leaf moments before fifty goats were released to shit on him so he became one with the manure.
"Fine," he muttered. "But you haven't seen him in years. People change. You don't know if he's become weird."
"Wyll, be serious."
Your irritation was beginning to show.
"I'm just trying to do my job."
You responded by ignoring him completely. Ironically, after all that effort, the three books you ended up choosing were the exact three he'd picked out for you. The knight noticed immediately. That fact cheered him up far more than it should have.
original story and characters; princess x knight; an x reader story; fantasy au; enjoy ♡ Masterlist
Chapter one
Run. Run away.
That was the only thought consuming you at the moment. Picking up your skirts, you tore your way through the flora. Your head darted back every few seconds, eyes wild and searching for something – someone – behind you until-
The nervous neighing of a large horse had you turning back just in time to somehow move yourself back from the muddy path in front of you. A scream escaped your lips before you knew it and soon you were on the ground. Coughing up dust, you trained your eyes up to gaze at the horse, hidden by the shadow of the sun that was slowly looming over you.
Had it been that long already? You could have sworn it was barely past midnight when you’d left.
“Watch where yer going, mam!”
At the sound of the gruff voice, you strained your eyes to focus on the man who seemed to be on the horse. Just like his voice, he too seemed to be a rough man, weathered to the bone with his eyes still having a gleam even as they took your state on the floor.
Humiliation and rage arose inside you, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you quickly got up dusting yourself off. Glaring at the man, you retorted-
“Perhaps it is you and your beast who should be watching out.”
Not your best but you felt a satisfaction upon seeing his eyebrows rise in shock. Or was that amusement? Damn it, his eyes were still shining.
“Feisty, aren’t we?”, he smirked down at you. There was something about it that ignited something inside you. Anger, probably.
Your gaze then moved to the sword he had strapped to his side. His eyes followed yours and a low laugh escaped him. “Looking at the silver? Yeah, she’s a real pretty one. Say why exactly were you- “
A twig snapped behind you. Logic screamed it was probably a deer or something along those lines. But logic was not what had ensured your survival this long. Your legs barely moved but you glared up at him defiantly. Despite the gripping fear in your heart, you said clearly-
“I am coming with you.”
Scoffing, he shook his head. “By the Gods aren’t you a little crazy… I ain’t taking you anywhere, mam!”
“Please! I beg of you- “
“Don’t do nun of that beggin’ nonsense! It ain’t gonna change my mind!”
“I implore you, sir- “
“You don’t even know where I am headed!”
You sighed, anxious and tired. “It doesn’t matter as long as its away from here. Just… drop me off anywhere on your way.”
At your request, his mouth opened and closed seemingly unable to find a proper argument against this. After all, he wasn’t going to lose much. He hoped. Groaning barely silently, he shifted back on his horse.
“Climb on.”
Beaming in relief, you took his hand and pulled yourself up in front of him. His heels pushed into the horse’s side, as it took off on a trot towards what seemed to be a long valley.
“There’s a town just across the mountains. You can get off there”, he said, his voice a little quieter now. You nodded slowly before whispering almost imperceptibly.
“Thank you…”
For a good few minutes, he showed no notion that he had heard you. But soon he cleared his throat, mumbling under his breath. Catching the bits and pieces, you smiled to yourself. Clearly, you hadn’t driven this man to despise you. Not that it mattered. You simply needed his help in navigation. The further away you could get from your home… the better.
As if sensing your thoughts, he lowered his head to your ear, whispering,
“Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?”
You swatted at his head only for him to chuckle and bring it right back, his breath tickling your ear.
“Ah, what did I do wrong now?”
“What is that term for? Am I your sweetheart?”
There was a twinkle in his eye. He gazed at you for a moment before replying. “You seem to be harboring some hatred towards being called so- “
“We are strangers”, you interrupted him, “Strangers who will part ways sooner than later. So… let us keep the details of our lives to ourselves.”
You felt him tense behind you but you shook off any feelings of guilt as you convinced yourself this was for the better. Besides… “sweetheart” was something he used to call you. Back at the-
“Name’s Arthur”.
You paused. Tilting your head slightly to the side, you asked softly, “I didn’t ask for your name…”
“Don’t need ta’. Jus’ wanted to tell ya. What’s yer name?”
You hesitated for a moment. Your past and the implications of it on your future hover above you as you swayed with each movement of the horse, lost in your own mind. After thinking for a bit, you answer him. But just your first name.
He merely chuffed in reply. You decided to make of that what you willed.
Soon the sun that was shining brightly above you, decided to lower down, painting the skies in hues of red and gold. You yawned, tired and aching, your thighs sore from riding for hours.
“We’re gonna camp here for the night.”
Your head whipped back nearly colliding with his chin. “Camp? But surely we can cross the valley by night- “
“The horse is tired, mam. And I am hungry- “
At that your own stomach decided to introduce itself by growling loudly. Flushing with embarrassment, you tried to justify it as Arthur merely chuckled behind you.
“Guess I’m not the only one.”
“Oh hush, you.”
This was going to be a long night.
Thank you for reading! All characters are owned by me (except you of course) ♡
❥ Hello everyone! 👋🏽 I know it’s been a long while since I wrote anything, but I am trying my best! I recently got back from vacation too so that was super fun! Anywho this post might be short but it seemed like such an interesting idea. Have fun & enjoy! Thank you!
Okay! So for anyone that doesn’t know, swan maidens are a lesser known mythical creature from European origins. ‘Though I think they come from French origin? But I could also be wrong lol but anyway, swan maidens are women who can turn into swans & back again via a cloak of magical feathers.
I wanted to create a few headcanons of what they might be like, but also what other birds would be like too!
Swan maidens are considered the most elegant and charming due to their snow white feathers. However, they can be quite vain creatures if you’re not careful. Much similar to fairies of older tales, these maidens are vain and will take any opportunity to be noticed. Even if they’re undercover.
Flaunting their feathers and fair features as they swim back and forth. Hoping to catch the eyes of other bird maidens or even humans. Or taking the opportunity to gaze at their own reflections. But, if you decide to ignore them or turn down their pretentious antics, be prepared for a mean trick or two. Expect a fair amount of shoes to go missing, your garden gets trampled or eaten, or they might just try to chase you off.
Owl maidens, unlike swans, are far less sensitive about their appearance and even towards humans. They are more curious than any, but you do not want to mess with them. Residing among tall treetops and mountainsides, they guard their domains from vicious predators or anything else that decides to make trouble. They are usually much larger than other bird maidens.
Those big intelligent eyes of theirs are always on the lookout, however, you might be able to catch them during the daytime if you’re careful enough. Considering they’re nocturnal like their feathery counterparts. However, they’re more like gentle giants and wouldn’t hurt a fly. They actually like to people watch at times, preferring to sit back and enjoy themselves than start something.
Raven maidens are not necessarily elusive creatures, but they are definitely the hardest to find due to their timidity. Plus, their dark feathers usually help them blend in with any shadows or other darker places. They usually fly solo or can be seen in pairs, but it’s best not to get near them. Else they’ll run or fly away!
However, if you get too close or prove to be a scoundrel, they’ll might to trick you! Mimicking voices and other sounds is one of their many talents, and will often use this ability to hide their presence. Mimicking the sound of a running stream, rustling leaves, even other animals. But if you’re up to no good, you might end up at the wrong place. As they can mimic human voices too.
Parrot maidens are probably the most flamboyant creatures other than swan maidens, if not more so. Painting the sky with their vibrant colors makes for a wonderful display, and they can often be seen in a big cluster together showing off their looks. However, they are incredibly loud! That’s usually what gives their identity away in the first place….
They sound more like clucking hens than parrots, chattering away from sun up to sun down about who knows what. However, due to that they are quite knowledgeable! Exchanging talks of various things is in their nature, as they are quite social, and you could gain something useful if you tried. Just trade them a story or something really pretty and they’ll tell you whatever you want!
This is just a fantasy! AU, with princess x servant/bodyguard (?), reader is a badass lady and the servant is head over heels for her. also, have fun reading!
also, I tried to make this as poc! friendly as possible. I have written some parts about hair, but I don't mean it in a bad/racist way. I'm not black, but in this story, you just have problems with your hair like I do, so I literally just inserted myself there. I just made it so other people could maybe relate to my problems too :)
Warnings: suggestive content, Your bodyguard masturbates to you behind closed doors in detail, angst-father issues/trauma/no love (at first, maybe a part two? 👀👀👀), near death experience-but not you
this is more like a story, so buckle up babes! Also, I think I'll make more parts of these, but tell me if you like it!
---
I have plenty of weird but also pretty romantic dreams, and in this one, I was some sort of princess who had to choose a husband because of being the next queen and only child and no brother and bla bla bla.
BUT. I also had some sort of, I dunno, servant? Well, someone who always watched me/my back like some sort of bodyguard. The thing was, he was pretty hot. Freckles which adored and accentuated the cheeks, neck, shoulders (+ other body parts 😏), glasses in front of tired, serious eyes, long/dark brown thick/curly locks that were always in a low pony tail and forehead fringes that gave the guy a cute but also at the same time hot look, big nose, broad shoulders, tall, muscular body (but not too buff), nice arms, veiny hands and pretty much everything that would make a woman wet swoon.
Also, the voice was to die for. Do you know professor cal? (I know him from youtube). Yeah, I had his voice in my head as the guard and let me tell you guys, I wanted that guy to become real.
Also, let's call him...Cal, okay? because of professor cal's voice, alright? and his nickname or real name will be Lasco, so when you are alone with him, you call him cal! And you're the only one who's allowed to call him that.
But that's not- okay wait that was mainly the fucking introduction of the guy of my dreams, now let me start with the introduction of the story.
---
"Your majesty, you can't just reject a man blindly-", a nameless maid said, but was interrupted by your soft glare. "And why can't I?", you asked gently, looking at her with an almost pleading look. you wanted to know the answer as well.
Your poor excuse of a brutish father and shitty leader of your country wanted you to be married to an unimportant country. The son from the country was a playboy, treated women like objects, didn't know what sharing meant, stepped and spit on other people and wasn't really interested in you, more attracted to your body.
your mother was a softspoken woman, but since women were still not respected in the monarchy, you wanted to change that. you hated that your mother couldn't stand up for herself. you hated that she got belittled whenever you were around, and you feared that it was much worse when you weren't.
One day, however, it all stopped. and you were the reason.
"Why should I marry him again?", you asked the man who was one of the reasons you came to this world. you hated to call him that.
Father.
ugh.
your 'father' gave you a glare which you reciprocated tenfold, making the geezer sitting in front of you scratch his neck nervously.
"Well, because... because I said so!" "And what use would that bring to our kingdom?"
"How dare you-" "Your highness. please tell me. Why am I going to be betrothed to a man whom I have no information over and who doesn't even seem interested in wanting to get to know me? What use would our marriage have?", you retorted quickly, eyeing the guest to your 'father's' left. His son was right next to him, glaring at you angrily. your mother only looked at you with a shocked expression before standing up to apologize-
"Don't, mother. You have no reason to do that.", you only said coldly while holding a hand towards her direction, awaiting a plausible explanation from the bastard sitting next to your king.
"Listen, me and your father are good friends, and we decided that it'd be a good idea if-"
"So you have no use for the country but just want us to get married to each other because you guys are friends? Or because your whore of a son can't seem to stop getting his dick wet and because I have never touched a man? If that's the reason, THEN YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF!!!", you screamed, pulling your golden sword from it's home-your earrings-and pointed it towards the bastard.
That seemed to be the thing they were not prepared for, because the king from the other country and his son scrambled away while your 'father' was getting angry at you. But, oh boy.
How was the saying again? Like father, like daughter?
If his anger was already bad enough that most people from his own country feared him because of his temper, how would the other countries try to calm yours?
"YOU INSOLENT CHILD! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST DO AS YOU'RE TOLD?! DAY AND NIGHT AM I WORKING-"
"WORKING?! DON'T GIVE ME THAT! WHAT YOU CALL 'WORKING', IS JUST FUCKING OTHER BITCHES, LOOSING YOUR MONEY FROM GAMBLING AND GIVING ALL YOUR DUTIES TO THE POOR SERVANTS!
YOU ARE NO WHERE TO BE CALLED A KING, A LORD OR EVEN A LEADER! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A GOOD FATHER!", you roared, your voice booming louder in the castle than his ever could, grabbing the attention of all the residents of your own, soon to be castle.
your golden sword pointed towards him, and while nearly every servant and some guards gathered together to know what this family fuss was about again, they were shocked and surprised to see that you were pointing your sword at him.
sure, you had arguments and fights with that old geezer, but nothing ever was as serious as this. "You put-" "YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU POOR EXCUSE OF A MAN, I am done with you humiliating our name, or kingdom, our country. do that you get the hell away from here, with all your fucking concubines and mistresses. and don't you ever show your face in here, or my country again. because if you do...
... then I'll find you and behead you myself."
All he could do was run, run as fast as he could, and while he was still at it, his concubines and bad partners, gambling friends, drinking friends and other bad people he liked to associate with, followed him as well while taking all their belongings, which surprisingly, wasn't less than you imagined.
After the last one was gone, your mother only whispered your name and you immediately threw yourself to the ground in shame in front of your mother. "I beg for forgiveness. Please forgive me for my big mouth and sharp tongue, mother. please don't be mad at me-"
"Mad at you? Oh, my sweet daughter, how could I ever be mad at you?", she asked, opening her arms with tears eyes and a wobbly smile. You ran towards her but held her as gently as you could, like a flower. "I fear that I do not onderstand, mother. Why are you not mad? I put shame on your name for rejecting a noble's proposal...!"
Your mother only chuckled, happy to hold her one reason to stay alive in her arms. She was also glad that everyone saw that her and her daughter were so close and that the rumours about the daughter and the mother hating each other would come to an end. "That's exactly why I am so proud of you, my love. you have mastered what I couldn't and still can not do today; express myself, voice out my uncomfy state, give my opinion...being loud. Being heard. Being understood."
You stroked your mother's back like a mother consoling her child. your mother's nerves were always on haywire when your father was around, and it was tearing your heart apart to see your mother so scared in the presence of that former bastard of a leader.
"I will try my best to help you mother. After all, you are leading this kingdom on your own now. But fear not, I will stay by your side until death will tear us apart. But even then, I will not rest in peace until I have found your soul next to mine and we can be together again, even after we've descended to heaven.", you promised. She only hugged you tighter and released a breath.
Lasco, your bodyguard, who has witnessed your great performance of strength and anger, only watched you in awe, a small blush on his cheeks. See, as you were the crown princess, the next queen and he was your guard, he had to look after you ever since he could remember. he was also your best friend and you and him did pretty much everything together.
Except...
...love.
...
It was actually not fair, to be honest. Cal had a crush on you since the first time he saw you, which was when him and you were children; even when you were chubby, had snot coming out of your nose, and always chaos-hair. what drew him to you was your calm nature. He thought of you like a flower when he first met you. Never bothering anyone. always in your own little world. You never yelled, or got really angry or made a fuss out of everything. Only when something really bothered you, did you frown, pout, and release a small and quiet 'hmpf!' sound, which he cherished forever by grabbing at his chest where his heart belonged whenever you did it.
He also found you really cute. your eyes were so adorably wide and full of wonder, wanting to explore the world with silent pleading. But since it was forbidden, you examined books, maps and even listened to adventurers and businessmen and women who sailed the world like your life depended on it.
Your hair seemed to have a mind of it's own, as it was either perfectly calm, a few strands of hair not wanting to go to their place or your hair pointing to all directions. your personality was also to respect, or gush over.
You were always a calm kid, never dared to trouble your parents, always good with everyone. you tried your best to help everyone and do your homework or train your body to fit into a queen's life. you tried to take as much off of your mother's chest and shoulders as you could, with no regard of self care.
you, with those beautiful eyes, that changed over the years.
Your body, that changed over the years.
Your mind changed too.
But it scared him.
Sure, you've gotten a lot smarter and even more helpful than you already were. you blossomed from a small, sweet, shy, friendly, peace-loving girl to a poisonous, beautifully, deathly and ruthless woman. But Cal was not even close to the mind to complain.
I mean, you've grown up, and so has he. It was just...to him, time flew by so quickly. One moment, he was protecting you from other baby princes from bullying you because of your shy nature, then you and him talked about serious topics like future and love in your teenage years, where he nearly gave out his secret of having a crush on you, and now, you had to choose a husband, rule the kingdom alongside your mother, and forbid war, even when your kingdom was one of the strongest out there.
Cal has fallen for you. And...so have you.
You fell for him the moment he gave you the promise that he'd always protect you. It was when you two were still children. He was eight and you were five at the time, but you could not mistake your warming cheeks and fluttering stomach for anything else but love towards that boy. the first few weeks, you hid from him, spoke as little as possible with him and never looked him in the eyes.
You were wondering every night if Cal knew about how you gave him heart eyes everytime you two locked eyes. or if he maybe thought of you as a pretty girl...? Or if he thought of you as a nuisance, because you thought that you'd be one to him, being a princess and all. Since you had trouble forming big sentences and tended to be shy by nature, even as a grown up, you only gave him commands, asked about his wellbeings, or nodded when he gave you an update about something.
The more days passed, the more you strived to be perfect. Not just for the people you'd have to rule over one day, or your mother, but for him. you wanted to show him that you could become the perfect leader. That you'd become a great queen. You took more care to your body when Cal made some remarks about how skin care was less appreciated these days. your hair seemed to follow your lead too, because over the years, you managed to take proper care of it.
you took more care in the way you dressed, acted, spoke and most importantly, your face. you always frowned, naturally, and you hated it. You hated when people asked you why you were looking so sad or glum or depressed or angry, and you were left irritated. so you always raised your brows to give your face not an irritated, but bored look. Better than nothing, right?
whenever you looked at Cal, you didn't see your bodyguard, but a potential lover. He was always good with kids, treated women with the utmost respect, was one of the strongest men in your kingdom and very handsome.
However, there was one information that shattered your little love world and heart yes and daydreams about Cal; you had to marry a prince. Bodyguards were not allowed as potential husbands, except for when you'd like to have a consort or lover.
You, from that moment on, forbid your feelings towards your longest friend and buried them into the darkest corners of your heart, soul, and mind. and over the months, you managed to hold proper conversations with him, plus, you didn't see him as husband material anymore.
Or so you thought.
...
NSFW:
As you were busy with making new rules, comforting your mother and firing your father's followers, Cal thought that you didn't have any use for him at the moment, which was good.
As fast as he could, he excused himself with a silver plate in front of his crotch and went straight to his room. Beforehand, he made sure that no one was in the hallway, so that they couldn't hear him doing his unholy, and unforgivable act. In his chamber, he whimpered into his hand and his other one grabbed his hard-on. His glasses went down a little, but not that he cared. Lasco moaned into his hand as he slid against the door a little, panting at the thought of you.
You, who so bravely told your father to fuck out of your life with a blade at the bastards throat which you took from your earrings. you, who always was so...cold, but at the same time so unbelievably hot at the same time. His princess, who didn't want any nameless, stupid prince. Cal didn't know what type of prince you'd like. What type of husband would meet your standards. Maybe the fictional characters you've been sighing about with a sweet smile and gazing off with a blissed out face?
C-could he call you... his princess? Could he call you...his girl?
...His woman?
At that thought, Lasco stumbled towards his bed, throwing his belt and pants to the ground before stripping off his underwear and grasping his leaking cock. It may look small in his hands, but if you saw it, you'd be really scared of it's size and girth. Much over average, about 9 and a half inches, and his girth around the width of your wrist. His mushroom head was adorably flushed a light pink, with freckles adorning his shaft and inner thighs- actually his whole body to be honest.
He pumped it a few times, abs already glistening with sweat, whimpering in a high pitched voice again, brows furrowing and shoulders shaking, his nipples growing hard at the cool air of his room, forgetting that he'd get overly sensitive when he got hard because of you. He whined when he immediately had a flashback of him following after you for safety reasons and you suddenly halting in front of him and him stumbling on you, his hips - and so his dick - brushing against your soft, plump ass. When you turned to apologize, there was only a gust of whind in form of his silhouette.
He rubbed his head a little harder, and choked back a sob. His glasses nearly fell off, but he adjusted them while his left hand shook from touching himself. he faced the door this time, his brows furrowing, as he stroked his shaft, the foreskin covering and uncovering his cockhead evertime he moved his hand up and down.
What if somebody came in? How would he explain himself?
Lasco massaged his balls gently, groaning before chuckling breathily, growing shy as he thought of you again with a cute -about to be fucked out- smile on his face.
What if you came in and caught him in this state? How would you react? What would you say? Would you get aroused too? Or bully him? Tease him? Or be disgusted by him for thinking of you so lewdly?
He cried out your name before cumming so suddenly, the orgasm shaking him. His back arched and his thighs squeezed shut a little, and his glasses finally fell down, onto the sheets which were now soiled. He felt like the walls of his room were still echoing your name and he groaned. Cal was laying on his back now, arms spread out and he stared at the ceiling.
He panted, grinning like a madman with a heavy blush. The thought of you catching him in such an incredulous act, with him parting his legs for you and chanting your name like a mantra, giving you a show-
Ah shit. He got hard again. He sighed exasperately.
Just as he was about to do the act again, this time feeling a little more guilty for picturing you doing these things to him, he changed his mind. He stood up, and took a long, cold shower.
END OF NSFW.
...
Now refreshed and not so horny anymore, the bodyguard quickly made his way over to your presence, fixing his posture and taking deep breaths, a neatly written letter which he wrote months ago, only for you and you only to read.
Maybe Cal should just confess and hope that you'd accept his feelings. But he didn't know how you felt about him. Since you were little - since the first time you two fucking met - you never really talked much with him. Cal was left wondering if you even harboured any feelings for him in the first place.
If you didn't then he'd make a total fool out of himself. If you did, then maybe...
Just maybe, he'd become your husband. Your husband, who'd try to read every single wish you had right from your delicate lips. Your lover, who'd be the man of your dreams if you said yes to the very question. Your lover, who'd swear to become the greatest king in history, with you as his strong, smart and beautiful wife. His woman.
He wanted to be yours so bad it hurt him mentally and physically whenever a love interest who wasn't him got brought up. whenever you spoke about maybe visiting or inviting a prince over made him hurl and want to punch a wall.
He didn't notice that he was already in front of your door, your deep, gentle voice immediately reaching his well-trained ears. He allowed himself to smile for a millisecond, then his smile vanished and he stepped inside.
---
Heya, how was that?
I kinda let out everything I thought in here, like for part 2!
Modern reader on middle earth with a stra- I mean a twist. Your dysautonomia plagued ass landed a job working an isolated mill in the high lands. Hindered by dumb men, steps, and a very attractive dwarrow who plies you with friendship, gifts, and idle gossip. But as your relationship grows so does your physical relationship. Part of you can't help but wonder if she loves you or if you're just a passing fascination.
Will she leave you in the dust? Will she tell you her name?! ah! The tension!!
Please note this dam is meant to be ambiguous. Meaning the name she gives a false name so if you want it to be a dwarrowdam of your choice SMACK IT IN THATS WHO THIS IS AND THEYRE GIVING A FAKE NAME.
This meets the sapphic bingo on Tumblr including: ovulation ‼️ a strap‼️ and cane user representation. I wrote with dysautonomia in mind because October is Dysautonomia awareness month! If you don't know what it is I suggest looking it up so myself and many others with this disease can increase our access to care.
I used my own cane usage, and presentation of symptoms but many will have different needs and experiences which will change as symptoms wax and wane.
It struck you, only when it was far too late, that you desperately needed to start tracking the date. Was it monthly? Every other month? Every three? Whatever the frequency you had to start writing the event down in a notebook. Pair that with fastidious checking off the dates in between.
You needed to know her cycle better than she did.
Because without fail the past 8 times have been nothing short of life changing. But absolutely exhausting.
Come nightfall she descended like evening’s curtain and swept into the mill, stalking the halls until she finally found you. Her boots barely register upon the wood beam floors. Only her prints left in the ground floor's pounded dirt floor caught in lantern light revealed she was ever there at all.
By the first chime of bells you had busied yourself putting aside the log book. That was your new invention-the string of bells. Not bells themselves. Someone long ago invented those, and thank goodness they did. They saved you the trouble of crafting them yourself to make up for the deficit of cow bell. Never should you live without cow bell. No your bells were strung on packaging twine. Simple and effective, the long string of bells on the interior side of the door was mocked openly by your coworkers. Little did they know the ‘decoration’ was actually a warning system.
By the sound of the door shutting you were lighting another lantern. Stowing it out of sight but within reason to light the room- she wasn't going to catch you without a back up this time.
Dusting off your hands on your clothing, you heave a tired sigh. Silence in the hallway loomed like winter fog, so heavy it froze the breath in your lungs. The hallway had never seemed darker.
The night ? Never so insidious.
“Work at the mill, they said. It would be a great idea, they said.” You grumble gathering a blanket from the corner. Unceremoniously tossing it upon the floor. Obscuring the dust and straw below a veil of cheap spun fiber. You refuse to spend another week picking straw from your hair because she decided the floor was “perfectly sound.”
No, no not again.
Being the only female human at the mill had seemed like a daunting task. And it was. It came with the prejudices of the men and the meticulous business work of being the only one with a basic education. It came with the ‘office’ located up two flights of rickety stairs that would be on any Home Inspectors shit list. And it was annoying lugging yourself up and down precariously balancing whatever you were tasked with hauling AND your cane.
Being from another world entirely made everything far more difficult. Numbers, letters, language everything was different. It had taken you years to get a hang of the basics. But finally you felt secure in your life here. The life you were constructing like Lego blocks. Bit by bit things were coming together. It was clumsy and challenging. Often painful when you accidentally tread upon an errant brick of the past. But work at the mill was engaging enough, yet the log work wasn't the hardest part.
The hardest part was the Dwarves. Who guarded the men in the fields. On your walk there and back you see them working the smithy and cartwright shops from before dawn far into the deepest reaches of night.
No one beat the Dwarves in style and dress.
Who let them look like THAT? It vividly reminds you of the writings of Viking men sweeping off women with their hygienic bathing and hair styling practices. No one bested the Dwarves in always smelling delightful. No one, in your opinion: could beat the Dwarves.
But their impeccable grooming and body fragrances were not the problem. One in particular made your life far more complicated than the others. Far more complicated than you had anticipated here in the isolated mill. Where days passed by with gusting winds upon the rocky plain your only companions.
At first he had just plied you with conversation. Then came the gifts. So many gifts. You had to buy additional storage for the gifts in the room you boarded in.
Each one left you thunderstruck. At first you had politely asked what holiday these were for. Assuming that such extensive gifts were religious in nature. Oh how he laughed. Oh how your stomach bellowed with violently thrashing butterflies.
Whoever said crushes were gentle vastly misunderstood the verb: crush.
Three months into knowing him you learn he actually uses she. Learn that within the confines of the office walls and the nest of his arms she is she. But outside of that? He. And he only.
He passes through every few days. Leaning against the doorframe leading to the stone bridge, without fail you plop beside him on the step. Your cane resting upon your shoulder as you whisper among yourselves. Chatting and trading gossip like that is the highlight of your week. In the privacy of the back room or the scrub beyond he provided you with gift after gift.
Your own clumsily made gifts followed. Only brave enough to pass them to her. Fearful the prying eyes of the other humans would judge you- for how horrible you were at crafting. Or picking out items from the limited selection at hand up here in the desolate lands of the north. Normally limited to resale Dwarven goods- which felt strange to give her. But she was always gracious.
Yet you noticed the sparkle in her eyes and the brighter smile when you gave her a handmade gift. Regardless of how clumsily knit something was or how too big a hat fit she was always thrilled. Even the too small mittens became cherished objects.
Gift after gift after gift sailed on and on.
But excessive gifting wasn't the catalyst for your current situation.
No, no YOU had fucked up. Out beneath a stubborn heather, you leaned over and kissed his cheek. On impulse. Whispering your thanks for the handsome new cane. Sturdy with a spare tip to grip the ice, it was made of some metal you couldn't place. Lightweight and elaborately patterned. Nothing from your world could compare to the craftsmanship of the Dwarves.
Since then your life was never the same. It singled you out immediately for her affections. When she was fertile? She was ravenous.
You were, when it was your time. But nothing compared to her. Nothing was as strong as her. Or fast as her. Or as muscular. The list went on.
Anticipation twisting your stomach, you lean against the doorway to steady yourself. Squinting into the dark narrow hall. “I know you're there, sweetheart.” You call down once more, “you come to play again?”
Silence answers you.
“When are we going to have a proper lunch, huh!? I miss that!” Heaving a sigh your shoulders rise and fall. Aching for the picnic you'd share huddled behind a boulder every few weeks. But now? She wasn't so predictable. Not as routine oriented as before.
Now she was revealing more and more an endearing impish playful side.
Tonight? She was feeling trixy, apparently. Pushing off the doorway you go back into the office. Resting that new cane against the desk while you gather ink pots and papers. Clumsily dropping some here and there. The plunks! Reverberating in the mill's vacant husk.
After that armful the desk was clear, just in case she decided she wanted to park a body there. Whether it was yours or hers or both? One could never tell. As long as it was a living body you weren't going to complain.
“Does your mom know you're out of the hill?” You shout again, glancing over your shoulder. Hoping to provoke a snicker or a terse response. Intentionally messing up the word for ‘hill’ and ‘mountain’ with a healthy helping of thickening your accent.
Nothing.
Oh she WAS feeling playful! Inside your mind you could picture the exact face she was making. An adorable crooked grin. Her brows furrowed with pride thinking she was being so clever. Arms? Probably crossed. No doubt she was leaning against a wall somewhere in the vicinity, biding her time.
You shift in place feeling your own arousal growing. No one prepared you for your own body. Groaning in frustration you rub your face with both hands.
Befuddled by your own bodily responses you had gone to the healer in the closest village. But your despair had only made her laugh, “ the older you get, my child, the worse it will become.”
Patting your defeated shoulders she gave you the simplest advice. Which, knowing minds can guess upon its nature. It was a solution you had no trouble doling out now that you had her coming about.
But nature had a foul sense of humor.
Your times were synchronizing- and that was the largest issue of them all.
You blame her.
However if you took the evidence into consideration: you had more estrogen which meant you had to be the one influencing her.
But how could you allow yourself to be at fault for this?! No, it was definitely her fault!
She had trained your hormones. And as you glance around the prepared room you realize all too late that she may have trained you too.
Grasping the open faced lantern in one hand, cane in the other you make your way to the hallway. Raising your arm spreads flickering candle light. But it only reveals an empty hallway. Residence only to mill dust and cobwebs. No looming hulking dam to greet you. “Did you leave already?!” Shifting you glance down the other direction, scowling into the darkness. Has she really left? Miffed, you yell louder, “you didn't even say goodbye!!???”
No sooner had the words left your mouth than a puff of air rushes past your shoulder extinguishing the exposed flame.
“Good bye.” She enunciated, interrupting a violent frightened gasp. Her hand meets the small of your back stopping you from tumbling back through the open doorway. “Oh no, don't do that. That would not be good.” She lightly chides a brassy laugh just at the edge of her voice.
“Again!?” Clutching your chest you let out a long exhale, exorcizing the jump scare from your body. Wheeling out of her grasp you take another set of deep breaths. Scoldingly you wave the extinguished lantern at her. “Five nights at Freddie's has nothing on you. But this time?” Blustering you prod her chest with the useless metal. “ Oh no! This time I have a back up lantern!”
This time she wouldn't be creeping around in the dark delighting in your startled aroused squeaks. Giggling in your ear while your hands lashed out trying to grasp onto her. No, not this time! The spare lantern lit the space enough-there was no escaping you.
Her face morphs into a disgruntled mask, eyes darting back and forth as she tries to sort out yet another parcel of nonsense. “You spent five nights where?” She finally asks crossing her arms, bending towards you prompting further context.
You ignore her and wave her towards the interior. When she doesn't budge you prod her with your finger. “Inside. Let's go.”
“Very well!” She doesn't hesitate making herself at home. Removing her boots and cloak. Every article was politely placed upon a shelf, usually reserved for order forms. Now it saw more use as her personal garment rack.
Watching her wandering pulls the wry smile back on your face. Yanking on the handle you heave it closed, barring the door with the usual plank. The heavy thunk of wood kicks up a shower of dust in the dim light.
“Five nights at Freddie's.” You begin absently loving how cute she was when her nose crinkles. “It's a scary game where things pop out of the dark.”
Satisfied with that explanation she breezes back over to you. “I thought there was a person named Fred. Perhaps you locked him in the basement?” Standing before you her smile grows more and more cat-like by the second.
She repeats your name enigmatically, finger pressing the center of your chest she walks you back against the wall. “Hello again.” She greets huskily. Lazily she boxes you in, leaning her one arm against the wall. The other caresses your face with threatening tenderness.
“Hello, to you too. Mister?” Setting your cane against the wall your eyes dart back to hers. Silently waiting for her to continue.
The seconds tick by and so does her hand. Gingerly tracing the planes of your face admiringly. Her face relaxing, brows softening. Seconds turn to what felt like a solid minute.
But was it? You weren't sure. She killed any notion of time you held. Unless it was time you shared. This room is your little liminal space.
Sighing tersely your hand catches her wrist but her hand keeps moving, completely ignoring you. Or rather: enjoying your touch too much to protest. Squeezing your fingers against her thick wrist you continue vexed and perplexed. “Am I to get a name this time? Or should I choose one from my list of human endearments?”
Eyes flitting to you her grin takes an impish turn. Teeth flashing. “Oh, why don't you pick for me.” Her palm envelops your entire cheek. Fingers teasing the hair at your nape. Sending shivers down your body. “ I did like sweetheart last time. Darling the time before. Princess was entertaining.” She lists thoughtfully, head tilting as she soaks you in.
“YOU are entertaining.” You snort yanking the tattered list from your pocket, scanning the names. Humming the jeopardy theme, your fingers running up and down her arm. The list had seen better days. Originally meant to provoke her into telling you any name whatsoever: it had failed. Laughably so.
It was a game now.
Everything was. This entire experience living in a fantasy world was like a massive dissociative episode. Any day you expected to open your eyes and find now your new barrel ceiling but the sanitation white of a hospital room. A growing to do list on the table beside you.
Grumbling through the list you subconsciously lean into her touch. Shifting to and fro as hormones build mountains. You wanted nearer. To hold her. To feel that peaceful bubble surrounding you when you embrace her. When she wasn't being mischievous she was a sanctuary. She was your peace. Peace?
“Dove.” Announcing it firm and clear shoots her brows higher. “ You're a little dove tonight.” Tapping her chest with the paper you charitably add, “unless tonight is the night I get a name?”
Instead she imitates a dove, cooing against your ear with frightening accuracy. Her lips skim your skin in a heated tease. Chuckling at how your body trembles with every light brush of her lips.
Shaking your head, your eyes squint disgusted by how accurate she was. At everything. “Can you stop being perfect at LITERALLY everything?”
“No.” She replies simply, still nuzzling the crux of your neck. Pecking kisses along your skin.
“You want a kiss?” Your finger curls under her chin, coaxing her forward. Tracing her lips with your eyes. Your chest is feather light with anticipation. Rising up to your full height you lean forward, teasing her “are you having a hard day?”
“My day has improved greatly now that I am with you.” Grasping your face with both hands, her lips press a whispering kiss on your lips. Only rejoining you in soft revelry when you murmur, “again.”
The mellow kisses scrape along your mouth. Her satisfied hums reverberate through your chest. Your hold upon her softens following the rhythm she set. Footwork matching hers. Maintaining the smooth pace set by the music of her breathing and the pounding beat of your heart. She assuages every biting doubt within you, and you her.
Your ‘dove’ was precious. Precious to you.
Attraction to her was a tragedy but the sweetness of it was worth every moment. You would build a world around her if she let you. You would have her if she let you. Her voice alone could raise you from your grave. Her name was solace.
She held you with attentiveness and yes, she consoled you. Your hands held her with reverence each time you caught her unaware. Slipping your fingers between hers. Plying her with some story or song from your world beyond the veil. She may be built for power but she never used her power on you.
Not even when she was like this. Not even when she was craving you closer than close. She knows far better than most that a gift demanded is not a gift. A trapped creature does not love: it submits.
She never forced. Never pressured. Always came with both of you in mind. Both your hands entwined. Your adoration for her all but apparent and growing by the day. What you were to her you didn't know. But should she ask? You consider her a lover. Yet you remain silent upon it. The unspoken words collecting on your tongue are more suited sweet for gravestone epithets than living ears.
However her gentleness vanishes when you nip her tongue, setting her loose. Hunger takes over. Building rapidly from there you both fall into lust's gravity. The light moans deepen. Her bassy voice sends you reeling. Reeling yourself to her with a tug of your arms around her neck.
Obligingly she steps closer. Pressing you against the wall with a smidgen of her strength. Needily her mouth collides with yours. Her sounds growing rougher and frail. Fingers skimming up and down your sides, trailing and splaying up and down. Up and down.
You rise against her, crushing and pressing fever hot kisses along her lips. Lacing your tongue with hers provoking a luscious moan vibrating through her throat. All while she continued the kiss. Continues to graze with teeth along your lips.
It's then she feels your chest rising against hers. Your hardened nipples press against her chest. Hears and feels the gasp that comes between a pair of delving kisses. Feeling your stomach ebbing and flowing with burning lungs. Realizing what was happening she cuts off the kiss. Ending prematurely.
Her lips pull from yours with a trail of saliva connecting your mouths. Tongue snaking out, she licks your lips clean. Only pulling back enough to peer down at you, eyes intense and glowing on their own luminescence within the shadow of her body.“If I become carried away, I apologize.” She rasps, her arm bracing against the wall once more.
Fascinated by how her playing canine teeth have made your lips puffy and tingle. Panting, your head shakes.“Don't apologize. I like you as you are.” You affirm peering back at her and her inhuman looks. Because suddenly? Suddenly you realize how a rabbit feels clutched in the claws of a predatory beast. “Give me a moment to catch my breath. Remember our little signal?”
Her eyes drag down your jaw to your neck, only snapping back when you remind her. “Oh yes, yes I do. You remember what I enjoy?” She giggles, her voice so low it sometimes feels like a wall of sound.
“As a matter of fact I do.” Did you ever! It was hard to forget THAT. Her amused laughter conjures up the night she'd handed it over. Her little ‘treat’ was not so little. Her little treat for her alleviation so to speak was held in a cloth satchel in the desk. You slide under her arm peeling away to retrieve it. Her gaze tracking across the room.
With every movement you are more and more aware of her eyes on your body. Can feel the heat from her stare with each mundane bend and twist while you retrieve the bag. Normally you hated being watched. But her? She could watch you. You'd permit it. The slick between your legs grows.
“Shed your garments.” Her command comes with an uneasy stillness. Like the surface of a deep pond, water obscured by panes of ducked.
“Give me a minute.” You call back rummaging through the drawer. The bag trapped beneath piles of parchment. Listening intently to her weight shifting upon the floor, every creek of a board makes you inhale then slowly exhale. The slide and drop of fabric falls like a phantom behind you.
You're ignoring the sensation of dizziness from vending down by conjuring up something better. Vividly remembering how cute she was staring at you when you used this. How sweet her voice was when she told you how to change or move differently for her.
Her clothes were going to be so dusty when she picked them back up. Giggling beneath your breath you can still see her in your mind. Deep hued attire muted with a fantasmic coat of dust. She haunted you in the best ways.
Your fingers finally close around the plush velvet bag. After another tug you rent it free from its prison. “Got it. It was stuck.” Slowly raising your head you swallow back a wave of nausea. Turning just as slowly to face her again, you hold it up to continue building her anticipation.
Closing the distance your eyes dart between the clothes and her face. Her nakedness is all too familiar. It’s when her soul was naked that she was most beautiful to you. “Some days I fear you only come to get naked and break rules.” You admit, “now? I love seeing you-clothes or not. It doesn't matter to me.”
“Do not misunderstand.” Her eyes flash dangerously at that statement. A declaration of fondness wasn't taken lightly. The fact you ‘love seeing her’ made her feel all the more wanted. Loved. Respected. She would haunt you for the rest of your life. By choice. She could specter the halls of any other human’s walls. Yet here she was. In a dusty mill giving her all. To you.
Elaborating her hands move in sweeping gestures as she speaks. Making quite the show for your spectating purposes. “I greatly look forward to our time together. No matter what we do. But right now?” She fondly sighs, bringing you close. “I want my hands on you. ” She growls out between bared teeth. Large hands groping your hips and ass with increasing lewdness.
Carnal ideas multiplying by the score with every passing moment. “Touch my chest, more please,” your request comes with a pliant whine. Your chest has been tender and aching. Now? Now your need becomes ten fold and when her hands press against your hardening nipples you whimper. That whimper turns to a sharp whine as she firmly gropes. Even through your top it was perfect. Tracts of flesh swallowed by her palms and fingers. The sore pressure pressing against your chest mitigated by a wave of pleasure with each gentle massage.
Her palms press and roll your chest. Watching with vulturous intent as your chest moves beneath her touch. Stiff peaks press against her palm. She let's out a thrilled huff, eyes devouring you alive.
“Oh, dove. That feels so good.” Toes curling your body shifts against her once more. Your eyes slip closed, relishing her touch.
Her hands left your hips shifting against her. Aching between your legs rising. Your own fingers stumble over themselves upon the bag's tie struggling to unknot it. The thick cord held twists of metal making it quite hefty. It took all your concentration she didn't occupy to finally get the knot undone.
“You're delightful. Breathtaking. Have I mentioned hmmm, huggable?” She obliges with traveling hands skimming up and down your sides. Exciting a thrill down your spine.
Finally pulling out the jar of lubricant, you pass it to one of her hands. “Here,” you rub her arm affectionately.
“You're incredible. I love your laugh and your smile.” You list leaning against her, “and your eyes. How you lurk like a horror in the darkness? I do love that too.” Wrinkling your nose you tack on, “took some time to get used to that. But now? Hmmm cute.” Each time you tap her nose with your index finger you speak it. “Cute. Cute. Cute.”
She chuckles, resting her hand upon your waist. Head tilting at your shenanigans, with a graceful smile and shining eyes. “Horror? Hmm I don't find myself particularly frightening but I suppose we can be. Can't we?” She poses thoughtfully running her hand up your arm, noticing the difference within your muscles and bones. “I will not allow you to come to harm from the truly scary things.”
Face heating at her casual pledge, you nudge her. “I will protect you from everything I can. But I think I am more suited to fighting dust bunnies rather than, ah I don't know? What do you dwarves fight these days? Trolls? Inadequate paychecks? Starvation?”
Pressing your finger over her mouth before she interrupts your train of thought, you ask quite sincerely. “Do dwarves pay taxes? If so I offer you tax evasion. You can hide in the basement with Fred.”
The smile on her face morphs from confused to incredulous to amused. Kissing your finger she moves it aside with her hand. “So you do have Fred in your basement?”
Shrugging a shoulder you sigh sadly. Mockingly dropping your gaze to the floorboards. “It's more of a cellar. Really. But! We will cease talking about Fred, id rather spend our time together talking about you.”
Holding the bag aloft you put on your best waiter voice. “Dwarven version of a strap made- in what year was this made?”
The fondness in her eyes grows each passing moment, obviously enjoying the stunt you were pulling for her amusement.
Her fingers rest upon her chin, a patient grin on her lips. “Who's calendar? Man or dwarves? Freds?” She quips, eyeing the bag with anticipatory delight.
” I took Fred's calendar. He is not permitted to know the passage of time in his dungeon. Anyone else's calendar at this point works better than Fred's inescapable midnight existence.” Returning to the strap you toss your head gently to her and it. Holding it out upon both your hands. Regally bowing to her. Offering her her toy with mock reverence.
Snatching it, she holds her it with a familiar grin. Her finger plays along the polished head, emphasizing each word with a tap of her finger. “This point?”
”For that crime, no more fake cock for you! Give it!” Eyes rolling in chagrin, you reach for it, she pulls it away from your hand. “I will give you a point if you don't hand it over!” You protest lunging after it only for your hand to close around the dusty air. Your feet hit the ground and you begin careening to the left. Sent off balance by your own impish existence.
Easily she grasps your shoulder and rights you. Once youre stable she giggles brightly.. Twirling on her heel, holding it just out of your ever waving arm. “That is what I was hoping would happen!! Your intelligence never ceases to amaze me!!” Leaving your fngers wriggling in the air only centimeters away from it. But she pulls it ever further.
Doggedly you keep going. Snatching at it. Jumping for it. Until the inevitable happens again and the world starts tilting. Your stomach twists as vertigo takes over and your feet stumble over each other.
Instantly she has your arm grasped in hers. Stopping a head long tumble into the ground. “Don't get dizzy!” She cautions, holding your weight with ease. “ Sadly I see no bouncing for you tonight. ” Her eyes slide to the strap, flipping your stomach at the insinuation. She would change your blood pressure just with the idea she was churning up.
“I am fine, little dove. But please, let me take care of you.” You assure, feeling the softening smile as a rush of fondness floods your heart. Relishing the playful glitter in her voice and eyes.
Knowing you would tend to her in the way she wanted. It was nice to be needed. It was even nicer to be wanted. Not for your body but for who you were inside. Using this wasn't about dominance but about providing and caring for her. Watching her feel good in vulnerable beautiful ways.
Dwarves? You found they held a deep appreciation for the natural world. They wondered the same at a stagnant pond as they did a rushing waterfall. Beauty to them was a natural state of being. Not in a magazine or sold in a bottle.
Did they have beauty standards? It appeared so. But she never enforced them upon you nor did she bring them up.
She chuckles mirthfully, leaning as she places a kiss upon your nose. Running her hand along your upper arm she smiles a cherishing smile. “And are you truly feeling well today?After all that spinning? Dizzy?”
Eyes cascading to the ground your finger scratches your cheek. Humming Skeptically. “Wellll-! A bit dizzy and I have been pretty tired today but I think I am fine.”
Her nostrils flare. Eyes digging into yours. “You are certain?”
Reassuringly you grasp her arm. “ My little dove, I want to. I enjoy taking care of you like this.” Shyly you whisper an admission best kept between the two of you. “Plus, you are very cute when you are like THAT- and it is fun!”
“Cute? Hmm. I do not know if I have been called cute by anyone but yourself in years.” Nodding, she agrees. “Very well. But we will take time when you require rest. You shall not come to harm in this.”Her warning is clear and stern.
Rolling your eyes you watch her take her spot on the ground. Heart warming at her consideration and support. Human fragility- or the perception of it seemed to be a thing with dwarves.
Once you saw him and a friend blanch in the face when a man held up a splinter filled hand. As if the large slivers of wood trapped in his skin would be the end of him.
Then the time came when you had a fever. She was convinced you would die, appearing outside your window every evening.
But now? Now you cannot help being a brat, “no, let me die loving you.” Plopping down you begin undoing your boots, peering at her from the corner of your eyes. Noticing how her face beams at the word ‘loving’. Maybe one day she would say it back. Until then you would be the one bringing those words to life.
Yet she made it impossible to concentrate on undressing. The entire time she sat on the blanket, legs spread in an obvious incitement of your hormones. Her tongue lathing up and down the surface of the strap. The polished surface shining with her makes your mouth water.
“Dove, you are distracting me.” And she was doing it on purpose. The fiend!
She giggles, flashing a coy smile. “No. I'm helping you. And warming it up.”
“No! You!” Fumbling over a sock you toss it at her. She bats it away with ease. Leaving you scowling once more. “You are distracting me!”
Her tongue runs hypnotizing circles along the head. Unable to turn away, you stare transfixed as the head disappears between her lips. Her hand running it in and out of her mouth conjuring up salacious noises and an even more dewy expression in her eyes.
Soft baiting whimpers issue from her lips as she fantasizes about you. Your hands in her hair holding it for her while she played. Played with you like she desperately wanted. It didn't take long for her dream to come true.
Standing before her you gather the straps of the toy,attaching every belt round the appropriate part of your body. She stops her teasing, pulling off the strap with a long drip of saliva following her departing mouth. One that hangs open ever so slightly watching you. Dipping your finger between the band and your leg, you ensure a healthy fit.
Once she sees you are set her hand grasps around the polished shaft, tugging you forward to her. Smirking she presses against it, there it presses applying pressure to your body. It sends your eyes fluttering closed and a deep inhale. Once again the head disappears between her lips and she begins bobbing.
“Having fun, little dove.” Licking your lips you watch her encompass the burnished surface. “You don't have to, you know I can warm it with my hands.” You coax your fingers beneath her hand gingerly entwining your fingers with hers.
Watching her with growing need with every draw of her lips. Every twist of her face as she works it over and over. The knot in your stomach tightens harder and harder.
She cracks open an eye watching you from between your legs. It sends the shiver down your spine. You feel her hand running up and down your thigh. The other remains entangled in your fingers, where you give her tender squeezes. Spellbound by her lips. “Dove, I'm sure it's warm now.” You say sincerely, catching hold of her cheeks. “Let me in. Please?”
She departs from it. Looking at you from against your hip. Sighing with a pleasant smile. “I have been looking forward to you all day. Why must you rush me?”
“Lube.” You prompt, kindly undoing the top for her. Watching with bated breath as her fingers spread it along the toy and then down against herself.
Not wasting any time, she got comfortable on her knees. Her chest resting upon the ground while you help her adjust her legs.
“Comfortable?” You ask, rubbing her thighs gently as you settle behind her on your knees.
She adjusts here and there until she confirms. Heady eyes peering back into yours. “Yes. I am ready.”
Slowly you edge the tip of the strap between her legs. Dragging the head along her trembling inner thighs, there she's already dripping. Her back arches involuntarily straining.
“You're doing so good.” Leaning you place a kiss on her broad back, muscles rippling with anticipation. Adding another husky praise just to see her shiver. “So good for me.”
Circling the hard head along her thighs, your hand grips her hip. Grasping tighter and tighter building her thrill with each swirl. “Is this how you want me? You want to feel us?”
Head bowing forward she moans your name. Oh the turns tabled when you had the stupid fake penis. It made you giggle to this day how universal sex toys were. Everywhere there was a fake penis. A fake penis that allowed you to merge with her and bring her to her knees with ecstacy. The fake penis she craved with insurmountable need for its vulnerability and sex's unspoken declaration of trust.
“Please? I want you close.” She requests.
The head presses against her entrance and she shifts back taking the tip inside her body.
Obligingly you slowly press into her. “That's my beautiful one. ” Taking your time filling her centimeter by centimeter. Loving the view of her back arching and her neck craning forward. “That's it. Take me, I know you can.” You sweetly praise in a hush.
Her body shakes and spasms around you and against you. Her breathing hitches. A sharp gasp fills the room while your slow movement sweetly torments her.
Dirty talk in the way you did it was new to her. Sometimes she laughed- which you loved. Sometimes she moaned- another love of yours. Sometimes her nose wrinkles and you have to pause to explain some nuanced cultural thing- you held an adoring love for that side of her too. No, you had a deep love for every reaction crossing her face. All of them. Equally. At once beautiful and perfect in their own ways.
Finally you sit in to the hilt, caressing her lower back tenderly. Appreciating the rippling movements of her body and the way she visibly clenches you. “What a good little dove you are. Feel how deep I am?” You don't move, but your other hand reaches around her hips where it perches on her mons.
Threefold were the reasons you do this. One: it presses the strap against both her sensitive spots. Two: many, including her, were turned on by rubbing the mons because it externally presses the g spot. Finally: if you leaned over and ONTO her it made distribution of weight easier. This activity was laborious, dizziness and discomfort were constant threats. But they wouldn't stop you.
A delicious frail moan leaves her as you press gently against her mons with your hand. Pushing her sweet spots flush against the strap. “Feel good?”
“Yes. Yes, so good.” She murmurs, mouth agape with each breath of air swelling her ribs. Hormones have her primed and strung tightly. She appreciatively speaks your name in a way only meant for beautiful untouchable things.
“Good. I am glad.” Placing a kiss upon her back, you nuzzle affectionately. Rolling your hips back she whines in dismay. The strap slipping through her folds.
Only to jolt forward with a shout when you rut into her in one motion. Her fingers dig into the blanket, scrunching the fabric into her palms. She cries your name again, desperate and pleading.
Biting your lip you repeat the motion, hips stuttering until you fall into a comfortable rhythm. “I love helping you. Seeing you.” Keeping yourself steady with the hand gripping her hip. Always pressing and rubbing against her mons. Ensuring every stroke ran along each sweet spot within her. Puffing gasps leave you when you finally find the rhythm needed to apply pressure to yourself.
“I've been practicing for you,” you grunt against her back, shining in sweat in the light of the lantern. It had been hard using it the first few times. But it was such an intimate psychological event that even when you didn't do it right you still got off. From watching her parted lips mewling and her body shaking.
Her dew drips down her trembling thighs with each passing moment. But when your hand slides to stroke the hidden stem and exposed head of her clit she loses all restraint.
Crying out sharp ah ah ah's, with every thrust. Her forehead presses into the floor, mouth agape. Heavily panting beneath the onslaught of pleasure. Upon your chest her back muscles ripple and tense. Against your hand her body throbs and heats.
Your eyes track her body, checking she is enjoying herself. Noticing every delicious detail of her which builds nothing short of pride and affection within your heart. You speak her name and she answers with a pliant whimper.
Your fingers stroke in tandem with your hips. Carefully finding your way up the stalk hidden within her. Traveling down in soft pulls. Only stopping to gather her slick and the lube. Lubricating her exposed bud. Sending her a twitch beneath your grasp. “That's it, dove. That's it.” You pant from the exertion and the high she was taking you on.
Beside your legs her toes curl and flex. Instinctively searching for something to ground herself. You give her no grace. She doesn't signal to stop. Your eyes are constantly glancing to check in on her. But from past experience you know she needs this, she told you as much, however you also know that this? This wouldn't even scratch the libido itch.
There was no way a human could give her the speed and power she really wanted. She would do that herself while you rested beside her. Yet here she was beneath you, eyes screwed shut, lips open wet and panting. Deliciously falling apart in ways that had you going mad.
She could have gone to any other dwarrowdam or, if she fancied, any dwarf for that matter. But she never did. She sought you out each time.
You had figured you were a strange special interest. She must have a liking for human women and just happened upon the only one for miles.
A strange thing for a dwarf, from what you heard. After all, you weren't aesthetically Dwarven.
But she loved pawing your curves and clutching your hips while she devoured you. Her hands shamelessly groping your soft tracts of skin all while she coaxed you further towards the edge. She seemed to get off watching you twist and squirm and moan for her to ‘keep going’.
Her fancy Dwarven sex toys had leveled the playing field for you, all things considered. This one? Wasn't even your favorite. Your favorite was the double ended dildo they had. Yes they had those too. Dwarves had almost everything,surprisingly. Rolling you moan at the thought of it. How good it felt to be moving into her and feel her moving back.
If only this were the same. But her body was taking everything. The obscene noises and smell of sex had you on edge. The pressure against your body with every forward thrust. Every nerve is alive and alight.
The frenzied pace of your hips brings you closer to her and her closer to completion. She is dripping onto the floor. Her noises becoming louder. Her back arching. Her fingers twisting the blanket. She was lost in the feeling. Just like she wanted.
If only you could go back and get her a vibrator. Ovulation leaves her an absolute mess but a vibrator might help mitigate some. Instead she came here. Pleading for you to rub her swollen chest and her puffy folds the moment you were alone with her. Peppering you with kisses all while holding you with reverence.
Cuddling together your voices hush and vanish into the night air, hands held and legs entangled. You existed as each other's haven.
“There! Right there!” She cries out. The shaft runs at just the right angle to hit a particularly sensitive spot. Obligingly you pause, shifting your focus to hitting ‘there’ again and again.
For once someone couldn't get enough of you. It was addicting.
Once you find your rhythm your hand goes back to pressing upon her mons. Her raw voice floods the space. Her forehead resting upon her arm as she presses back against you. Meeting your thrusts over and over in a maddening rhythm. Shoving the base against your clit again and again.
“Halwê! Perfect!” She cries back, her body tensing deliciously clenching the toy. Loving each moment her tear filled eyes peer back at you while she cried out.
Leaning back you watch her body tightening around it. The psychological pleasure of the view and your Dove's cries leaves the knot in your stomach twisting tighter. Dizziness begins to build. Closing your eyes you focus on your breathing. Gripping her hips you concentrate on driving it along her. Bringing her pleasure and comfort. Giving her release she craved. Further you were motivated by her frail cries and staggering gasps.
Beneath you her body pulses. Her body stiffens. Her eyes shut tighter and tighter. Back arching her climax shatters her to pieces. Voice raw with every gasp.
Every leftover tremor you wring from her. Slowing your hips, watching her face relax and the tension recede. Relief apparent on her features, you sigh happily. Adoring how she dreamily sighs and rests against the blanket.
Sitting in her to the hilt, you hold tight to her. Breathless from exertion you take the moment, soaking her in and memorizing her. How her chest expands with her breath. How she adjusts on her arm to look back at you. Even watching her toes curl was endearing. “You like me, don't you?” You ask softly, wondering if you could get at least that answered.
She did. Otherwise she wouldn't be here. She could have anyone else but here she was. Asking for the same attention again and again.
“No,” she responds coyly, biting her lip. Her hips wriggle moving the strap against you provoking a wanton moan from you. Watching with lust hooded eyes, over her shoulder. “You're cute. That's all.”
Biting back another moan when she applies pressure again. Your head lays against her back pressing the pair of you closer together. “Liar! Oh! You! You're a lying liar who lies.” You sing jokingly against her sweat coated back, topping off the tease with a kiss to her skin. All the while her laughter fills the room.
Your hand leaves her center and joins your other perched upon her ass. There you press them tightly together around the strap, where she twitches and whimpers.
Taking a much needed break you rest your weight on her. Flush to the base. Listening to hear inhale and exhale.
Checking in with yourself, scanning your own body for weakness. For pain. For dizziness. You find each one. A perfect bingo. Dammit. “I am feeling dizzy. Unfortunately.” No matter what, you didn't want to stop. You wanted to keep going but that was how you got hurt. Not listening to your body.
“Time for a break then.” Her reminder is welcome but a bit disappointing. You loved feeling an extension of yourself inside of her. Bringing her such wonderful feelings gave you a sense of pride you hadn't expected.
Sighing you run a hand along your forehead, slicking back the sweat. “Would you like me to keep it on?” You ask, pulling free from her.
Her chin perches on her hand, gazing back over her shoulder at you. Studying you for the fatigue or discomfort you weren't reporting to her. Her finger taps upon her chin. A thoughtful hum reverberated through her chest before she finally responded. “No, take it off, I want to hold you.”
“If you insist.” Undoing the straps and placing it back upon the bag to wash later. Or use, if she so felt the desire again tonight.
She turns and sits up, folding her legs. As you begin to sit she shakes her head, “no no. Come here.” Stepping over you follow her beckoning hands to stand before her.
“Leg up.” She instructs patting her shoulder and with her other hand the appropriate leg.
Balking, you stare down at her with widening eyes. “Leg up? But I'm dizzy. I'll fall.”
“I will not let you fall.” She tugs gently on you. “ I want all your weight on me. Come now, trust me.”
“I trust you, it's just weird.” Grasping her shoulder and opposite arm you maneuver your leg, draping it over her shoulder. “This is! Uhm!” Very intimate! You could feel the edge of her breath over your core. Biting your lip you watch her with hooded eyes. Watch her bring you flush against her.
“Is it good? Dizzy?” She lifts and shifts you closer, clutching your ass and with her opposite hand your hip. “Lean completely on me and hold on.”
You did. One hand on her shoulder. The other in her hair. “Yes, it's good. I don't feel like I'm going to fall now. Just don't move my head around and I'll be fine.” Tightening your grip the moment she pulled you against her completely.
“Tell me when that changes.” Her lips part and close around your clit.
“Oh?! Oh! Oh fuck!” Sharply gasping with every sucking jolt from her mouth. She held you firmly, there was no way to wriggle away while she teases. She wasn't going to let you fall, even if it was for her.
She alternates between sucking and lapping between your folds. Your voice pitches and falls into the tightening knot in your stomach. Her beard rubs against your thigh with each movement of her jaw. Sending tingles at the soft scraping texture. Her nickname spills from you in a shuddering moan.
Looking up at you from against your stomach she smiles, beard and mouth glistening wet with you. “Are you?”
“Yes! Yes I'm good,” you gush tugging her face back down. “Keep going. God, keep going.” It was so good. You were open for her and she was so close. Her tongue was so warm it left a tingling trail over your skin. Each suck made you clench tighter, your thigh pushing against her head. Her nickname falls again and again in alternating faltering whimpers and cries.
The position was so intimate it made your head spin from bliss alone. Now as she suckled on you in rhythmic pulls she had YOU releasing breathless volleys of ah ah ah ah!
Your legs shake and your body quivers, fortunately she held you firmly. Relying on her. Trusting her without question. She would never allow you to fall. She would never drop you. Unless it was off an orgasmic cliff like she was doing now. Pushing you higher and higher towards an untimely end.
An end that comes sooner than you wanted. Your work with the strap and her delving tongue set you up for success.
Your body wound tighter and tighter against her. Hips stuttering against her grasp. Until finally your body snaps and shatters against her. Catching your breath you clutch tighter to her head to remain upright. Sweet words spill from your lips. Listening to her hungry moans as she continues tasting you.
Her head moves up and down lathing and sucking, chasing the squirting pleasure rushing from you. Moaning low as she catches you on her tongue. Sampling your creation intimately. Knowing now that she has teased you so well you were soaking her tongue again and again.
And with her tongue she once more pushes you towards release. Sucking and lapping along your swollen folds. Soaking in your meek cries. Delighting in how high strung you were thanks to biology. Thanks to your adoration for her. Thanks to her techniques.
“More.” You keen as her hand thoroughly gropes you, keeping you close and squishing your skin. “Please,” you gasp. The fact she could hold your weight and please you this well had your arousal sky rocketing.
Her moan vibrates you, sending you reeling. Your hips stuttering are finally freed and she guides you in grinding against her mouth. Feverishly rutting against her. Rubbing yourself again her succulent mouth. Your body climbing higher and tighter against her lips. Against her tongue.
And then? She withdraws.
Whimpering pitifully your hand tightens in her hair. “Dove! Why?” You feel her lips kiss along your thigh, ignoring the twist of your hips. Trying in vain to close the distance. To get back your high. But she keeps to her work leaving kisses along your skin.
She sends you back up, rubbing her cheek along your heated core. Her lips part, but instead of taking you again she blows a soft puff over you. Giggling as you shake. “ Why? Because this is for you and I want you to feel so good.”
You didn't doubt this. Especially when her fingers slide from behind, lightly stroking your slit. So close to the opening it made you whine again. Biting back a moan your hand tightens in her thick hair. Tightening and tightening. “Babe, please.” You plead, wanting it to continue and end. Wanting her closer and closer.
“Oh, halwê, I want to be close to you and only you. Do you understand?” She asks duskily, nuzzling you with her nose and lips. So soft and pleasant upon your throbbing skin it sends tingles through your limbs. Lighting up your heart.
