you could admit, to some degree, that you knew the danger you were putting yourself into volunteering to become one of the realm's seven holy knights.
but the dangers were something you've grown accustomed to not caring much about.
you knew from an early age that there weren't many paths for noble women. it was either become wives, mothers, widows, or in lucky cases, spinsters. you realized early on that this would be the most terrifying outcome you could think of. so you begged, pleaded, sobbed, and begged even more until your father allowed you to learn how to fight, how to hold a sword and bow properly.
the years bled together, and sooner or later you found yourself with quite a reputation following your wake; a faceless knight who nobody had ever heard of.
you were able to earn a spot as one of the seven holy knights, protectors of the crown and its livelihood. you were lucky that it was in the code of honor not to reveal one's face, as it was unheard of in its centuries of existence to have a lady fighter, but you had slipped up a couple of times, almost revealing your true nature.
thankfully, all the other men were oafs and couldn't tell if you took your helmet off and revealed your face outright.
for a few motnhs you seemed to go undetected. or so you fooled yourself into believing.
the younger prince, gojo satoru, had a knack for busying himself with the lives of the knights. he often trained with you all in the daytime, hanging around during the night as he skipped dinner with his family to eat with you all.
and although you were careful enough not to talk or even lift up the bottom half of your helmet to eat something, it felt like his eyes were always on you.
it also didn't help that you kept besting him in almost every practice. sword fighting, arrow shooting, hunting, anything you could think of, and suddenly the prince, who was revered for his knight-like abilities, was paling in compassion to you.
so perhaps it was your paranoia or your inability to read people's thoughts, but somewhere deep inside, you had a sneaking suspicion he was onto you.
gojo always singled you out in conversations, trying to hear more than a grunt or a nod. all the other men had given up, but gojo persevered, needing to know who was lying underneath all that armor.
"do you enjoy the countryside?" he asked one day, following you around after everybody had hung up their bows, the two of you the only ones left in the courtyard.
you roll your eyes in annoyance, sighing deeply through your nose as you nod once.
"say, the way you hold your bow is reminiscent of some ocean tribes. have you lived there? near the ocean?" gojo crowds around you, watching intently as you put your bow on its hook, watching from the corner of your eyes, seeing the way his smile was eerily deceptive, something cold and hard beneath his cheerful demeanor.
you grunt, not giving a definitive answer.
gojo felt his lips twitching, fists balling at the fact that you had gone on for more than four months without uttering a single word, somehow holding conversations with just two movements.
"some of the men and i were talking earlier," he starts again, and you turn around, hoping he'd get the hint to leave once you start walking towards the corridors that lead to the private quarters, "and we think we'd like to see the town nearby one of these nights."
you still, your armor clanking as the prince halts by your side. he looks down to your helmet, trying to look between the metal slits that help with your breathing.
you don't say anything, sweating bullets as you wait for him to continue.
"we would be honored to have the best swordsmen join us," gojo tries to say, his voice dipping slightly on the word "men," as he tries to gauge any reaction from you.
you blink, wondering if his blue eyes were just a gimmick and they were truly the only interesting thing about him. it's not very often you can see him this close, and you find yourself thinking that the ladies that fawn over him have never seen him panting and groaning and sweating as you hold a knife to his leather-clad chest.
you grunt once again, shaking your head in disbelief that the other knights would risk breaking their code of honor and defacing themselves just so they could get closer to the prince. a prince who isn't even in line to get the throne.
you clank through the stone halls, trying to fend him off as he matches your pace, his face slightly flushed and his cheeks pink.
"is that a yes?" he asks, staring at you as you breathe heavily, the sound echoing around your mask.
you stop at your door, your head tilted down as you shake it.
hearing his muffled shouts of confusion, you almost barricade yourself inside your room, panting heavily as you shed off your armor. You wipe at your brow bone, drenched in sweat, heart hammering wildly in your chest.
you were right. he knows your secret. and it's only a matter of time before others follow suit.
Did someone say more knight!reader x Lara Croft…mhmmm well.. that I can very much do and I will feed yall…
Now, I had a tiny devil on my shoulder (my beta reader) and they mentioned something about a good luck bj before a jousting tournament… AND WHAT CAN I SAY IM A FREAAAAAK SOOOO YES MA’AM I WILL BE WRITING THIS OUT
Imagine: It’s some random festival Croft House has been invited to, the House hosting it has made them honorable guests and is hoping to win Lord Croft’s approval in hopes to marry his son off to Lara.
Spoiler, Lord Richard Croft and his wife, Lady Amelia were not very much impressed and Lara finds the son to be unbearably annoying.
He’s a young lad, the same age as Lara but she likes them a couple years older (you). A knight who has only fought in tournaments and miniature battles but nothing hitting the scale of war, of what bloodshed truly looks like on the battlefield. He isn’t super tall nor buff, in some cases his body doesn’t fill his armor out in the right places. He has good looks, which gives him a confidence boost and popularity among the ladies. He’s good with a lance, but Lara has heard his ideal weapon of choice is a mace and he sucks at charming a woman.
He isn’t smooth with his words and Lara simply isn’t interested in him nor his courting.
But, he is a man and cannot take no for an answer.
At dinner, Lord Brown (head of House Brown and the one hosting this festival) invites the Crofts to dinner to try and get his son and Lara a bit more familiar with each other.
The son, Daemon sits himself close to Lara when supper arrives and tries starting a conversation, but to no one’s surprise, Lara pays zero mind to him and puts all her focus on you, who stands right at her side during dinner.
As the nobles eat, the husbands discuss political debates, the wives bond over their husband’s rash decision-making and the children sit in silence, or Lara does while Daemon chews her ear off.
“My family owns a castle bigger than this one on the outskirts of Surrey, maybe I shall take you there someday.” Daemon smiles charmingly.
“Mhm, sounds lovely.” Lara replies absent mindlessly, more interested in her cooked boar than the man next to her.
“Milady.” Your voice breaks through the boring haze Lara was in.
The brunette is quick to whip her head up at you, cheek stuffed with food but her face seems significantly brighter.
“Yes?” She answers, but it’s muffled due to her dinner.
You chuckle, bending down to one knee and your armor clanking as you grab the cloth napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth.
“This is very unfitting for a Lady.” You say, making sure Lara’s mouth is cleaned before pulling back, you can’t leave lingering touches in front of the nobles.
Lara scoffs at you, before turning her head away from you. Your fingers itch to grasp her jaw and turn her face back towards you, but not right now.
“So,” You continue, gaining her attention again. She can never stay mad at you. “I wager Ser Daemon has not won your favor?” You raise a brow.
Lara rolls her eyes and scoots her chair a little closer, still making sure there’s “ appropriate” space between your face and hers.
“Absolutely not.” She whispers low. “All he babbles about is himself, how many tourneys he’s won, the men he’s unhorsed, the women he’s slept with but he would change for me.” You laugh but Lara doesn’t find it as amusing as you do.
“He’s disgraceful, he told me a lady of my status shouldn’t be riding horseback while shooting bow and arrow. That I should be home and all I need to do is bare his children.” Lara finishes off, gritting her teeth together in anger.
Your face hardens at this information, “I am to joust him on the morrow. He picked me as his first contestant, I’ve heard around from the staff that he thinks I’m easy prey.”
Lara huffs, “You? Easy prey? Unbelievable.” She side-eyes Daemon, but he doesn’t notice as he is talking to his father. “You unhorse him tomorrow and I will have the staff make you a bunch of Jaffa cakes as a thank you gift for when we get back home.”
You chuckle again, and now that’s charming to Lady Lara Croft.
“Your wish is my command, Milady.” You nod, your stare lingers on Lara’s lips before standing up to your full height.
Oh. My. God. Her undergarments are soiled.
The next morning, everyone is excited. The audience cheers and shouts, they’re rowdy even though the joust hasn’t started yet.
Etzli assists you with your armor, chatting happily as he straps the components to its designated body part.
“The views here are gorgeous, don’t you agree Ser? But, I will say nothing beats Paititi.” Etzli smiles up at you.
You smile back, chugging the rest of your wine, then placing it down on the small table side before patting your squire’s head.
“You talk so highly of your homelands, I hope someday the gods will be nice and bless me to see it.”
Your squire nods eagerly at your words, running back to grab your breastplate. “I hope so too, Ser. My mother would love to see the knight that is raising me to be a good man.”
God, you hope you’re raising Eztli right.
As he fastens your breastplate to your chest, Lara makes an appearance, stepping into the tent and standing by the entrance with her hands in front of her.
“Lady Lara?” You ask, prompting your squire to peek from under your arm and is quick to bow his head.
Lara smiles softly, “You don’t need to do that, Eztli.”
He looks up at you, and you give him a reassuring nod to confirm it is in fact all right and he lifts his head back up.
“Eztli.” Lara starts, and you see the boy’s ears perk up. “Could you perhaps leave me and Ser Y/n alone for a bit? I need to talk to her before her jousting begins.”
She holds more power here so Eztli obeys, as he departs, Lara puts a hand on his shoulder to soothe him of any nerves.
“If anyone questions, tell them I dismissed you and if you still get in trouble, come talk to me after. Understood?”
“Understood, Lady Lara.” He mumbles, and leaves the tent.
The brunette turns back to you, her smile went from soft to predatory like, she inches closer, hands still clasped in front of her body.
“I see Eztli got your breastplate on.” You nod, almost hypnotized by the way Lara makes her way to you.
“He was about to get to my arms before you came in.” You speak, but words seem heavy on your tongue.
Lara hums to herself, circling around you as she counts how many pieces of your armor you’re missing, and if the components you have on now will get in the way of what she has in mind.
It won’t, so that’s a plus for her.
“I want to give you my favor before you head off, think of it like a good luck charm, yes?” Lara purrs.
She stops in front of you, and drags her pointer finger down from your chest to the band of your trousers. Heat travels south and you feel the bridge of your nose get hotter, you gulp and stay professional.
“A good luck charm? You make it sound like I’m heading off to war.” You laugh nervously, trying not to get hard at the way Lara looks up at you.
God, you’re such a fool.
She presses a hand to your breastplate and silently guides you back into a chair that you don’t recall ever being there.
Your half-armored frame plops down onto it, the wood creaks beneath your weight and Lara stands between your legs. Your hands automatically land on her hips, but she pushes them away and drops gracefully to her knees.
It finally clicks to you what’s happening and you’re quick to try and guide Lara back up.
“Lara—“ “Please.” She cuts you off, she leans forward to nuzzle her cheek against your hardening length. “I’ve missed you. Ever since we’ve arrived here, that man Daemon has taken all my time away from you, and you’re too busy playing knight to even pay attention to me.”
You laugh breathily, you bring your hand down to pet through Lara’s brown hair, she unbuckles your belt.
“I’m sorry I can’t bathe in your beauty every waking second, trust me, I wish. But, I still have duties to perform.” You gritted your teeth, the morning breeze sending shivers throughout your entire body.
Lara doesn’t respond, she spits into her palm, wraps her pretty fingers around your shaft and starts stroking up and down.
“Fuck.” You groan, throwing your head back and ignoring the way your armor feels restricting.
“Look at me.” Lara orders, and of course you listen.
You lift your head back up and watch, gaze locked as your cock rests heavy on her cheek. Watching as Lara pulls back, presses a sweet kiss to the tip then parts her lips wider and takes all of you in.
You feel like the air got punched from your lungs, like you got knocked off your horse and landed square on your back.
Words die on your tongue, all you could do was pant hopelessly as you watched Lord Richard Croft’s daughter swallow your dick whole.
The brunette keeps going, gagging a little when she hits your pubic bone. Lara takes deep breathes through her nose, then looks up and my god.. you almost become a one-pump chump.
She pulls back, showcasing to you how wet she’s gotten your cock, stops when she hits the tip, sucking and swirling her tongue around it and tasting your pre before slamming back down to the base.
“Gods—“ Your hand grips Lara ponytail at the base, while your other one holds tightly onto the chair’s armrest. “F-fuck.. Lara..”
She whimpers at the tone of your voice, picking up the pace and jerking off whatever left of your shaft she didn’t want to deepthroat anymore.
Lara makes sure to keep eye contact, soaking in how flustered you look. Pink flush dust your cheeks, there’s a thin layer of sweat forming and your hair is starting to stick to your face.
Your hands switch jobs, one re-locates to the armrest while the other moves down to her cheek.
Your thumb strokes the soft skin as Lara bobs her head up and down, eyes half-lidded and body burning from under your armor.
“So pretty.” You mumble, your words and caressing is so soft and gentle. “You look so beautiful like this, my gorgeous girl. Let me make it up to you later, okay sweetheart?”
Lara nods, mouth stuffed to the brim with your cock and she feels like there’s a mess between her thighs.
You throb and twitch on her tongue and she knows you’re on the edge.
“S-shit.. Lara.” Your eyes shut and you grind your teeth together. “I’m close.. fuck I’m so close.. you’re gonna make me come down your throat..”
And she does exactly that, takes you down to the base and works her throat around your length, resulting in you to curse out loudly and climax in her mouth.
Lara moans at the taste and the thick texture, but swallows all that comes her way, not wasting a single drop as she was raised with manners.
Once she’s positive you’ve given her your all, she pulls back with a loud pop and showcases her empty tongue.
You groan low, your thumb continuing to stroke her cheek then it brushes over her swollen bottom lip, and the brunette gladly takes the digit into her mouth.
“You nasty girl.” You grunt, and Lara smiles around your thumb before letting go, tucking you back into your trousers and standing up.
Your hands get right back on her hips, and this time she doesn’t push the away. You press soft, feather-light kisses to Lara’s stomach over her gown, and Lara runs her hand through your strands.
“My good knight.” She praises you. “My charming knight, the only knight I need.”
You whine at her words, rubbing your face against her dress, trying not to get hard again.
“Come. You still have a jousting to complete.” Lara forces you up and coos at your expression.
Flushed in the face and needy.
Just how she likes you.
“If you do good, which I know you will.” She scratches under your chin. “I’ll let you eat me out before dinner, yes? Wouldn’t that be lovely.”
You agree eagerly, and Lara giggles, leaning up to kiss your cheek one last time.
“Now, go be my good knight and win.” She whispers huskily in your ear.
As Lara is leaving the tent, Eztli comes back and gives a quick bow to the departing Lady Croft and walks in to find you still very much red-faced and sweaty.
The young squire raises a brow at the state you’re in. “Why are you so red in the face, Ser?” He questions as he picks up where he left off.
You clear your throat, “Drank too much wine, boy. Don’t worry.”
Lara makes it back to the podium just in time as the announcer blows the horn, indicating the match is going to begin.
House Nishimura has also been invited and Sam whips her head at her best friend as Lara fixes her ponytail and wipes her lips with the back of her hand.
“Where the hell have you been?!” Sam questions. “Your dad was scrambling around trying to find you for a solid ten minutes.”
Lara casually shrugs, politely sitting herself down. “I went to give Y/n my favor, that’s all.”
Sam narrows her gaze at her best friend, suspicious developing deep in her gut.
“Our first contesters of this joust is Ser Daemon Brown, Son to Lord Robert Brown and Heir to House Brown!”
The audience goes wild, cheering as Daemon rides out on his horse, flashing everyone a princely smile.
“Our second contester is Ser Y/n serving under House Croft!” The announcer finishes.
You struct out and despite the lingering flush and sweat from earlier, you look like a knight that’s been pulled from one of the Arthurian legends. Armor so shiny and clean it almost shines pearly white, your helmet is tucked under your arm and your face is stoic as possible.
The crowd gets more rowdy and everyone can feel in their bones that this will be a great start to the festival.
Upon seeing your face, Sam turns towards Lara with an expression mixed between being disgusted and being impressed.
“Oh. My. God. You did not just give your knight sloppy head before a jousting match.” Sam is flabbergasted.
Lara smiles, all smug and not even trying to hide it.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” She lifts her cup of tea and drinks from it.
Who knew Lady Lara Croft was this nasty? Sam didn’t.
As that’s going on, Richard waves for your father’s attention. The older man drops to one knee right at the Lord’s side, ready to obey.
“Yes, my Lord? Is something troubling you.” Your father asks and Richard cringes in worry at the question.
“Yes, something does trouble me. Is your daughter alright? She looks a little flushed.” Richard answers and your father quirks a brow, before turning his gaze towards you.
You shake your head, and he does spot the tint of redness to your face, before it gets covered up by your helmet.
Your father turns his attention back to Richard. “Yes, I agree she does look a little flushed. Hopefully she hasn’t gotten ill, I shall check up on her after the match ends, my Lord.”
Richard sighs, “Please do. I would feel horrible knowing Y/n has been overworking herself and refusing to sleep.”
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN
Wanda overlooks the knights training ground, her eyes trained on you. The tattered shirt that you wear cut at the shoulders leaves no room for imagination with the slight bulge of your muscles as you block an attack. From the moment she laid eyes on you she knew that she had to have you no matter what.
Wanda has become obsessed with the thought of having you all to herself. A pure knight corrupted just for her pleasure. The thought alone has her wet. As she watches she lets her hand slip up under her dress. Her fingers tracing her slick cunt before plunging her fingers into her tight hole. She slowly moves her fingers in and out. Her eyes never leave you as a soft moan falls from her lips.
It doesn’t take long before she falls over the edge, your name falling from her lips as she does so. Wanda slows her fingers to a stop before pulling them out. She pops her fingers into her mouth and groans at the taste as she imagines that it’s you that she is tasting instead. The thought of you being none the wiser to her plans.
Wanda makes sure that you become her personal guard, telling her father that her guard had touched her inappropriately. Not caring that the man was put to death for a crime that he didn’t commit. All of this to get to you.
As time passes Wanda drops subtle hints to you but you are none the wiser to her advances. She seems a lot nicer than what had circulated around the castle. You grew to like the woman but knew that it could never be. You had taken an oath of purity. All knights are required to take this oath and all you had wanted to do since a child was to become a knight for the royal family.
It was well known to the royal family the oath that the knights had to take. This didn’t deter Wanda from vowing to make you break the oath and be hers. She started with a plan to get you alone in her chambers. There she will take what she wants.
The urgent call for your assistance came late in the evening. The only light was that of the stars and torches scattered around the castle. “Knight Y/l/n the princess requires you in her chambers. The matter is urgent.” A maid informs you.
You quickly jump out of bed. The only clothes you wear is a nightgown. One oddly enough that Wanda had gifted you, she had told you that your old ones were not fit for the knight of a princess. You grab a torch off the wall and your sword, making your way down the hall and into the princesses chamber. The door shutting behind you, you don’t even hear the door being barricaded on the other side when your eyes meet Wanda.
The sound of your sword hitting the ground echoes through the room as your eyes lay upon Wanda’s naked body. She lay on a silk covered bed. She lay on her side with her hand holding her head up, one of her legs slightly draped over the other leaving little to the imagination. You stammer as you back up. You stammer as you back up, your back colliding with the door. She is so stunning that your mind can’t seem to form words. But this is wrong, you took an oath. One that is becoming harder and harder to keep.
“I, I, I, um. I shouldn’t be-” You stumble over your words, before turning around and trying to open the door that now seems to be sealed.
What you don’t realize is that Wanda has moved from the bed until you feel her hand on your shoulder causing you to jump. “Relax detka. No need to be so tense.” She purrs. She turns you around and presses you against the door.
“Th-This isn’t right.” You look up towards the ceiling trying to erase the vision of Wanda naked in front of you.
Wanda grips your chin and forces your gaze back down. She really is stunning, the embodiment of beauty. “I want you to look at me.” Her voice was more harsh than you had ever heard before. “I am your princess and you will do as you are told. Do you understand me pet?” You know the question is rhetorical but you nod your head anyways. You have no choice in this matter, you are but a servant to the royal family.
“Good girl.” Wanda purs, the once harsh tone being replaced by her usual soft voice. She leads you to the bed, and pushes you down, climbing on top of you. Her legs frame your hips as she sits back slightly on your thighs. Her gaze is intense as she stares down at you. “You look so good under me detka.”
You’re frozen on what to do. Your mind seemingly frozen in fear as your heart races in your chest. The thought of just giving in crosses your mind before you shake it away. “I can’t.” You mumble.
“Oh yes you can.” Wanda’s hands move down to the hem of your nightgown slowly raising it desperate to see your body. “I’ve always wanted a virgin.” She muses.
Your shaky hands grab hers. “Princess I, I can’t. I have an oath to uphold.”
Wanda clicks her tongue, her frustration growing. “I am your princess, your future queen, you will obey me.” Her grip returns on your chin making sure you maintain eye contact. “You are mine. You belong to me. My pet, my toy. Do I make myself clear?” You nod curtly. “That’s a good pet.”
Soon enough Wanda is pushing your nightgown over your head and throwing it on the ground. You can see the hungry look in her eyes as they rake over your body. “So strong yet so weak. You try so hard to suppress who you truly are but I can see it. Just a submissive little pet waiting to be used.”
You want to argue but you’re experiencing a feeling you’ve never felt before. Your mind seems hazy and words are becoming harder to form. You know what she said is true. The only reaction that you can muster is a whine as you slightly squirm underneath her.
“Shh detka, I’m gonna take good care of you.” Wanda’s hands start to roam your body. Her hands cupping your boobs. “You have no idea how long I have waited for this.” She squeezes lightly which causes you to gasp.
A heat forms in your lower belly, something you’ve never felt before. A slickness between your legs and you can feel the same coming from Wanda. “Please.” Your voice is small and comes out as a whimper. You don’t know what you are asking for but you want more. To hell with your oath.
“Patience pet, you’ll be begging me to stop soon enough.” Wanda shifts herself to where she is straddling one of your thighs. Giving herself access to your glistening pussy. “So wet for me already and I’ve barely even touched you.” Her words have you squirming.
Wanda’s hand moves down to your pussy. Her fingers smears your wetness around without giving you any real pleasure. Your hips twitch under her touch as you want something more. Your body craves more.
One of her fingers lightly brushes against your clit. “Mmm.” You press your head back into the pillow. Wanda smirks at how your body reacts to her touch. She moves her fingers down to your tight hole, slowly pushing one finger in. “Ah-ah.” There is a little bit of a burn and fullness as she pushes her finger all the way in.
“Fuck you’re so fucking tight. I can’t wait to stretch you out to take my strap.” She starts to move her finger in and out. The pace is slow at first but she gradually speeds up. “This pussy was made for me.” Wanda lets out a low growl.
Soon enough Wanda is adding another finger, the burning stretch becoming more. You squirm as it becomes slightly uncomfortable. But Wanda doesn’t seem to care as she picks up more speed curling her fingers perfectly. You can feel a knot growing in your lower belly as small moans slip from your lips.
Wanda adds a third finger which intensifies the burning. “Mmm, fuck, it burns.” You try to squirm away but Wanda pins your hips down.
“Stop moving. Don’t worry pet it’ll go away.” It’s hard for you to follow her words and all you want to do is squirm but you obey. “Fuck so good for me.”
She’s right as her fingers curl and the knot in your stomach grows, the burn turns into pleasure. Your mouth is open as moans spill from your lips. Wanda can’t help but admit how her fingers disappear into your tight wet hole. Her mouth watering knowing that she will finally get the chance to taste you.
Your walls squeeze her fingers sucking them in deeper the closer you get to the edge. You start to feel as though you’re going to pee. “St-Stop, I, I need to pee.” You plead and desperately try to hold back.
“No detka, let that feeling go, let it wash over you.” You listen to her words. Once you do you feel a euphoric feeling wash over you. Your cum coats Wanda’s fingers as your orgasm rocks through you. Wanda lets out a groan feeling your release on her fingers.
Wanda helps you ride out your high before slowing to a stop. She wants to make you cum again but her desperation to taste you is too strong. She pulls out her fingers which causes you to whine. She shushes you before bringing her fingers up to her mouth. She pops them in and moans at your taste. She can’t help but suck her fingers clean as you watch her with wide eyes. “Fuck even better than I imagined.” She says as she pulls them out.
You’re lightly panting as you watch the goddess above you. Wanda smirks at you as she guides her hand back down to your leaking hole. Her fingers swirling around your entrance before plunging back in. “Prin-Princess.” You whine.
“Shh, I told you pet you’re going to be begging me to stop.” Wanda’s tone means her words are final and there is no room for argument. Not that you could argue with the princess anyways.
Wanda starts to drag her hips on your thigh, spreading her wetness around. Her clit brushes perfectly against the toned muscles. As her hips move her breasts bounce. A sight so beautiful that turns you on even more. She can feel as a gush of wetness coats her fingers. A moan slipping through her lips.
As her fingers continuously plunge into you and her hips move you both grow closer to the edge. Your hands gripping the silk sheets with your head pressed back. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, your second is approaching quickly.
Wanda can tell that you’re already so close and she isn’t far behind you. She picks up the speed of her hips so that she can cum at the same time as you. “Want you to cum with me, pet. Make another mess on my fingers.” Wanda's voice is commanding.
You’re on the edge ready to fall over, your body trembling in anticipation. Wanda is right there with you. “Cum pet.” She commands and your body reacts to her words. You cum again even harder than the last time that your vision blurs and you see stars. A silent scream as your mouth hangs open wide. Wanda’s orgasm washes over her as her hips drag forward. Her cum coating your thigh as she does so.
Both of your highs are dragged out until Wanda collapses on top of you. Without thinking your arms instinctively wrap around her. You ground yourself as you hold onto her. A feeling of comfort you’ve never known. Both of you panting.
But it isn’t long before Wanda is sitting up again. Your arms falling off of her. “So-Sorry.”
Wanda’s free hand cups your cheek and you instinctively nuzzle into it. “It’s okay detka.” She has a soft smile that doesn’t last long. Her fingers that she hadn’t removed from your now stretched hole moves again. You whimper from how sensitive you are. Pain mixing with pleasure. “Once again pet I told you that you will be begging me to stop but I’m not stopping until the sun comes up.”
The Halo Knight is a mystery knight who participated in the tourney at Ashford in 209 AC. Lord Ashford staged the tourney to celebrate his daughter's thirteenth name day. The fair maid was the queen of love and beauty and would have five champions to defend her honor. All other entrants were the challengers, and if anyone defeated a champion, they would take their place as the new champion. After three days of jousting, the champions would determine if Lord Ashford's daughter retained her title or if another would wear it.
The Halo Knight defeated Prince Valarr (5 tilts) and became a champion for the queen of love and beauty on the second day of the tourney. Although the knight fled soon after the day had ended.
The Halo Knight is so-called because of the plain, golden halo on his shield. This mystery knight has competed in many tourneys across the southern part of the Reach and has evaded being unmasked many times. Although the knight has two, more popular names. The "Knight of the day" as he only participates in one day of a tourney, no matter his standing in the lists, and therefore, is the most popular knight of the day when he makes an appearance. Another name is the "Knight of shadows," because he's always sitting in the shadows whilst awaiting a joust and slips in and out of hiding (aka the shadows). His true identity remains unknown. If the knight is not able to slip away peacefully at night fall, he is usually a part of some duel that ends with the knight jumping on his horse and galloping away. It is said that once, the Halo Knight was cornered by 3 other knights but he managed to fend them all off.
The mystery knight is not too short for a man but not tall either. He usually enters the lists at the last moment. His armor is plain silver with dark golden details, his shield is a silver one with gold plating the edges. The knight has a deep monotone voice, although he seldom speaks. His intricate helm does well to hide any features of his face, although it is obvious, with his slim stature, that he is no strong man.
Dear God, this breast plate is squeezing the heart out of my chest.
made the sigil myself on picsart (that is why its so bad lol) and the art is made by B_ASTORA1 on X! stick around for mythical/magical shit 🙏
— Your life is dedicated to protecting Prince Bruce Wayne. When his parents announce he is to marry, your life is changed. The wedding is ended with accusations and danger, but you remain quiet until alone with your prince. Then, your oaths of fealty are spoken into his skin.
— knight/prince AU, Medieval English sprinkled in occasionally, canon-typical danger and violence, Bruce is taller than r, angst, self-doubt, fear, Bruce's parents are alive (Duke and Duchess), fluff and comfort, physical affection. 3.0k+ words.
— A/N: thank you @camelnose for letting me use one of your phenomenal Bruce ideas!! I hope you enjoy it!🤍
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A family of knights is known not merely by name, but by their chivalry, honor, fealty, and gallantry. Yet, when the heir to the Wayne throne came of age, he was not assigned a knight descended from his father’s protector. Instead, Duke Thomas Wayne called upon his most-trusted advisor, Alfred Pennyworth, to choose a knight for his beloved son.
The announcement of Prince Bruce Wayne’s knight sparked controversy beyond the duke’s land. Never before had a prince been appointed a female knight. More surprising, many believed, was the choice to trust Bruce Wayne himself with a woman at his side at all times.
Within months, however, the prince and his knight became inseparable, a formidable pair. She protects him at all times, is never far from his side, and remains professional even when faced with Bruce Wayne’s unique way of interacting. He attempts to dance with her at a ball, speaks to her and no one else at a meeting of dignitaries and representatives of thrones, and has been alleged to have walked the castle grounds with her on more than one occasion.
Beneath her helmet and dedicated exterior, the knight fell for her prince. She fell for Bruce Wayne, not the royalty, despite knowing it was wrong. And just as Bruce Wayne began to fall for you, his lovely knight, your plans were interrupted.
Five Years Later
“By my troth!” Vicki Vale swears, raising her hand. “Prince Wayne is to be married.”
“I give you my word,” Vicki adds. “His mother and father are searching now for his wife.”
Indeed, their castle is filled with suitors, other nobles, and carefully chosen advisors to assist Duke and Duchess Wayne in finding the most beneficial and fitting match for their only son.
You linger by the door, watching people come and go, presenting themselves to your Duke and Duchess. Each word spoken makes it harder to control your tongue. When one woman insists that she will gladly bear as many children as Prince Wayne would like, you bit your tongue. The copper taste of blood coats your throat as the next woman tries harder to conceal her faults, failing to hide her true motives from you. Your prince deserves better than any of these women can offer, but it’s not your place to say this. So, you sit by, doing your duty to protect as your stomach twists and your heart races. Losing someone who was never yours should not inflict such pain.
Following the final meetings of the day with the Kyle and Vale households, you return to Prince Bruce’s quarters. He is speaking to his advisors, leaving you alone in a place that has become a second home to you. After checking the window and the outer hall, you remove your helmet and begin pacing his quarters. Perhaps if you can fill his space with your scent, the villainous women seeking to win his hand for nefarious purposes rather than love, and those acting as sycophants seeking to earn something more than a husband will be dissuaded from approaching your knight.
Although, you realize, he may not be your knight for much longer. The thought is an unwelcome but necessary reminder. You return your helmet to its rightful position and take your place by the door, waiting for Prince Wayne to return.
“Good morrow,” Bruce says as he enters his quarters. After the door is closed, he sighs heavily and removes his outer cloak. “Have you eaten?” he inquires.
“Yes, Sir,” you answer.
He glances toward you, slowing as he adjusts the sleeves of his tunic. “Have you any opinion on the women Mother and Father have chosen to consider for my upcoming nuptials?”
Your stomach twists like the sick feeling the blood caused has returned only worsened. “’Tis not my place to say.”
“That has not stopped you before.”
Shifting on your feet, you hope he will simply move on. Bruce is not so easily discouraged, however, and sits on his bed, looking at you intently.
“Has something happened?” he asks.
“No, Sir,” you answer, your spine rigid as you remain in place.
Bruce hums as he leans back, his muscular arms visible as he pushes against his bed. “That makes me think perhaps you are lying.”
“Of course not, Sir.”
Bruce smiles, uncaring that your heart quickens at the sight. “Methinks you are,” he presses.
You press your lips together to remain quiet. He has spurred you into many a playful argument, but should you tell him the truth now, you’re unsure how it could end or what it would mean for you and your future.
“Methinks,” you repeat facetiously, “your suitors are not as pure as some believe.”
Bruce nods. “I would expect no less. Why would you?”
Because you deserve more, you think, shifting beneath your armor. A knight is always ready to fight. Unfortunately, you can’t raise a sword to a woman for lying about why she wants to marry your prince.
“I walked to the caves today,” Bruce says.
“Alone?” you inquire.
He smiles like he expected your question. “I was with Pennyworth. We saw the bats living inside again.”
“Were you frightened?” you ask. In years past, he has been wary of the creatures living within the caves.
“Perhaps at first,” he admits. “They’re resilient creatures; strong, brave… Not unlike a knight.”
You hum, and then Bruce stands.
“Accompany me to the south tower?” he asks.
You nod, your hand on the hilt of your sword as you follow him up the stairs. Knights are known by their family name, as are Bruce’s suitors. Had you been born into a different family; you could be at his side as something more. Yet your oath to protect him reigns evermore, and you shall not abandon him regardless of what comes next.
Within days, the news is circulating throughout kingdoms. Prince Bruce Wayne is to marry Talia Al Ghul, heir to Lord Ra’s Al Ghul, in one month’s time. Unable to even take a moment for yourself following the news, you consider simply disappearing from the castle or finding the nearest battle and rushing in without your armor.
“You are to keep Prince Bruce safe during preparations,” Pennyworth instructs you. “In the weeks leading up to the marriage, his safekeeping is of utmost importance.”
“Understood,” you reply.
The reason for his warning quickly becomes apparent. Within days of the news, Bruce is dishonored by two of the unfortunate suitors who were not chosen to become Bruce’s wife.
You find that several items, including a Wayne family heirloom, have been stolen from Bruce’s quarters. Identifying the culprit is easy when you consider what you witnessed in the ballroom. Selina Kyle is the only suitor clearly capable of such feats of stealth.
“Pennyworth,” Bruce calls. “Have you seen my mother’s brooch?”
Alfred looks at you, and after receiving your nod, he says, “I’m sure it will turn up, my prince.”
Soon after, Pennyworth takes Bruce out of his quarters, and you exit the castle through the servants’ entrance. The Kyle household is nearby, and you slip inside unnoticed. Selina is in her quarters when you find her, turning the Wayne brooch in the sunlight.
“Do you not have your own items to muse at?” you question.
Selina looks up quickly, the brooch falling onto her bed when she sees you.
“Bruce… Prince Bruce gave it to me,” she lies.
“Knights have a code of honour,” you remind her. ‘You steal from my Lord, lie, swindle. Tell me why I should not have you repay such sins with your blood?”
“Take the brooch,” she replies. “I have no need for it now.”
“And the others?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She turns her nose up, and the tip of your sword is angled at her throat in a breath.
“The others,” you repeat lowly. “You would do well to not make me ask again.”
“The drawer,” she whispers, tipping her head farther away from the blade. “The second drawer.”
Without lowering your blade, you pull the drawer open and withdraw all that you recognize from Bruce’s quarters. Then, to ensure she understands that you are not merely a symbol of protection but a knight sworn to protect Prince Bruce, you swipe the thin edge of your sword against her arm.
She screams, her eyes wide when you cover her mouth with your gloved hand.
“’Tis but a scratch,” you explain. “As from a cat. Should you trespass in Duke Wayne’s manor again, you will not be so fortunate. Do you understand?”
Selina nods rapidly, clutching her arm. She remains quiet as you leave, Bruce’s belongings stashed beneath your breastplate.
When Bruce returns to his quarters and finds the brooch under a piece of cloth, he sighs in relief. Pennyworth nods to express his thanks, but it’s your job, your duty, the reason for your life.
The day after your encounter with Selina Kyle, another disgruntled suitor comes into your life. Vicki Vale, a jangler known for spreading false information, approaches Duchess Martha without invitation.
Before she can begin to spin a tale, you step in her path.
“You cannot intimidate me as you did Selina,” she taunts.
You don’t reply, blinking beneath your helmet as you watch her. She doesn’t move toward the Duchess, but she doesn’t back away from you either.
“I’m here to explain why the Duke and Duchess made a mistake,” she adds.
You tilt your chin, letting your body language speak for you.
“I will not be turned away! I will not be treated like this by a foolish knight!”
“She may be a knight, but she is no fool,” Duchess Martha interjects on your behalf. “And any woman who speaks in such a way is in no way fit to be my heir.”
Vicki steps back, offended, and you move with her. She leaves then, convinced either by Martha telling her no or you blocking her path. Perhaps both.
“May I advise you remain closer to Bruce?” Duchess Martha suggests.
“Yes, Your Grace,” you answer, bowing slightly before you leave to find Bruce.
Being at his side, guarding your proximity, has always been you preferred place. You have wanted Bruce for as long as you can remember, but you can’t have him. Clinging to his dignity and defending his honor is all you can do, so you’ve dedicated your life to doing it well.
Bruce hears that you’ve been instructed to remain close to him at all times and offers his arm when he prepares to leave his quarters. As long as you are his protector, he shall be in your space. So, you remain close to him, even indulging his humor by taking his offered arm. The act of guarding your proximity, letting no one closer than you can get yourself is not purely motivated by duty, but driven by jealousy. Your time with Bruce is now limited, and soon, when you are separated, your life will lose all meaning.
Dedication, bravery, fealty… all pointless without your prince. But when he takes your hand and drags you toward the caves to see the bats, you forget that this is the end.
The night before Bruce’s nuptials, you toss and turn in your quarters. Your fate is in his hands, and you can do nothing to change your circumstances. When you finally drift to sleep, your dreams are invaded by visions of Bruce and his new wife, Talis, and the happiness he may find in a life without you.
The dreams are interrupted – graciously, you think when you wake – by a knock on the wooden door. Bruce is waiting outside when you crack the door open, and he pushes inside with no concern for your modesty or the etiquette of knights and princes. You’ve been unmasked in his presence once before; it was the week you met, and Bruce had fallen in the caves. You took your helmet off to talk to him, and he’d blinked up at you as he regained consciousness, mumbling that you were too pretty to be a knight. Now, it feels far more intimate and meaningful. He should be with his future wife, but instead he’s here with you.
“She’ll never love me,” he blurts out. Bruce turns as he speaks, and when your eyes meet his, he freezes. His eyes drop, taking you in as he never has before.
“Talia?” you question.
He nods, unable to speak.
“Why do you think that? Her father said-"
“Her father said what he needed to in order to convince my mother and father to choose her!” he exclaims. “She will not be loyal; she is not what I desire in a partner.”
“I’m sorry,” you lie. “It must be hard. Perhaps you should tell your mother or father.”
Bruce barks a humorless laugh. “It is pointless. Their minds have been made up. They’d walk into their own execution before admitting they made a mistake.”
You purse your lips rather than offering another meaningless sympathy. Instead, you step toward your bed. Bruce lets you into his space, inching closer to you as you move. You look up instinctively, your eyes meeting Bruce’s. There’s something in his gaze: desperation or want, or some combination of the two. You moved toward him with clear intentions, and you find that either of these views satisfies what you do next.
Carefully, slowly, reverently, you raise your hands to Bruce’s shoulders. He leans into your touch, still watching your face as you move closer to him. You press your lips to his collarbone, just below where his neck and shoulder meet.
“I swear fealty unto you,” you whisper against his skin, repeating your initial vows of knighthood.
Bruce shudders in response, so you move upward, kissing along the column of his throat and speaking oaths into his skin.
“You shall always have a place by my hearth,” you say against his jawline. “And in my heart,” you add.
Bruce shivers, his hands warm against your waist as he holds you in place. He catches your jaw, directing your face toward his.
“I,” he begins before being interrupted by a bell ringing downstairs.
You step back and clear your throat. “I have to prepare, as do you,” you remind Bruce. “It’s a very big day.”
He hesitates, then nods. When you see him again, he’ll be at the altar, and you’ll be in a corner with your sword at the ready and your heart in your throat.
Vigilant and jealous, you watch your prince stare down the aisle, awaiting his bride. Because you were chosen to protect Bruce, he will decide today whether you will accompany him to his new home or remain here with his father and mother. As the ballroom is filled with music and soft applause, you don’t know what you would prefer. Neither decision would hurt less; if you go with him, you’ll be forced to witness any love that exists between him and Talia, but if you stay, you’ll feel as if Bruce abandoned you after all these years together. In the end, it’s not your decision and you will respect your prince's choice.
With your hand on the hilt of your sword, you watch the wedding procession of your prince. Tears fall beneath your helmet until a man stands from his seat. Prince Kent, you think. He’s visited Bruce several times throughout the years.
“The Al Ghul family is guilty of plundering!” Prince Kent yells. “And treason! Lady Talia’s father only brought her here to take over our lands!”
You rush to action, pulling Bruce away from the worsening conflict and escorting him to the safety of his quarters.
“Have Pennyworth retrieve my father and mother,” Bruce requests as he looks out his window.
“Yes, Sir,” you murmur before turning to do just that.
When they arrive, Bruce doesn’t give them a chance to speak.
“Allow me to choose my own wife,” he pleads. “Let me choose the life I shall live, and if I make a mistake, help me to learn from it. I cannot keep living in a life you dictate. You have no right.”
“Who shall you marry?” Duchess Martha asks. “You have no knowledge of the joining of two families.”
“But I know what love feels like,” Bruce argues. “Haven’t I a right to experience it?”
“And her heritage? Her title?” Duke Thomas challenges. “How shall you know she is right any more than we do?”
Bruce opens his mouth but can’t answer the question. Helpless, he looks toward you.
His father smiles, then steps forward to hug Bruce. “Pennyworth knew all along you would come to realize.”
“When you are ready, come to us, my love,” Martha tells Bruce, rising to her tiptoes to kiss her son’s cheek.
He nods, and then you’re alone in his quarters again. With a heavy sigh, you remove your helmet. Bruce has seen you twice today alone, only this time, he does not hesitate.
Your breastplate is hard and cool against his chest as he kisses you, his hands gentle on your face as he moves with you. Even when your breath catches, you kiss him as if you’ll never have another chance to tell him what you feel. Your movements and your touch communicate an unspoken oath, a new addition to the fealty you’ve promised him.
“I’m sorry,” he says when you separate. He presses his forehead to yours, tracing the details of your armor with one hand as he holds you with the other. “I should have told you before.”
“It wasn’t right,” you remind him. “It still isn’t.”
“Do you not feel the same?” Bruce inquires.
“Of course I do,” you reply. “I have felt such since our first meeting.”
“You never spoke of it.”
Shrugging, you remind him, “You were promised to another. My duty is to protect you, not to stake a claim in your heart.”
Bruce traces your cheekbone, then asks, “Are you mine?”
You move his free hand to your chest, spreading his fingers over the metal protecting your heart. You kiss him once more before you promise, “I am yours, my prince. Evermore.”
Story Content Warning: Political talk over sapient beings (not just humans), discussion of death of a side character due to political views (It's a sentence - nothing in depth.)
Master List || Day 8 <- -> Day 10
Day 9 - Death
--
"Death is not coming for me," you growled back, shaking hands moving to your weapon.
You couldn't see much of the creature, half hidden in the dark, but you could make out his silhouette, and one glowing red eye.
All he did was tilt his head. The shadow of a smirk upon his lips.
"Can a small thing like you even hold that sword?"
Shifting back into a stance proved to be fatal, as there was no ledge left for your foot. With the weight of your claymore, you tilted, felt gravity take hold of you to pull you close -
you've been assigned to him for as long as you could remember. people have observed your bond, and it's quite obvious that you're the only reasonable match— the only one he's willing to let take care of him. you wouldn't want to change that fact either, but taking care of link comes with an unfathomable amount of responsibility. such as...
★ "put down that damn frog!"
you're the closest you've ever been to a heart attack at this point. taking the prince out on a voyage where there were monsters lurking about was the last thing you had wanted to do, but unable to resist his insistent, silent pouting, you couldn't exactly denyhim what he wanted.
he's cute when he's curious, which is everyday. you let him roam around with his large observational book, studying and taking notice of whatever shroom or flower was blooming by whatever random tree.
speaking of a tree, you figured to set up a small campsite under a large tree not too far away from the castle. there was a fire going in a pot, and the boy had been throwing random food stuff inside and hoping for the best dish to come from it. you watch with a soft smile— that is, until it deflates as you spot a few bokoblins a little too close and sigh, standing up.
"Stay here." you mumble softly, to which the boy smiles and nods, eyes glued to the way you reach up to grip the handle of your sword, pulling it up and out of its sheathe.
yoi don't take long— really you don't. the bokoblin type was blue, more than easy to take down. you don't even break a sweat until you begin walking back to the tree, only to feel your breath hitch and your heart stop. that damn monster of curiosity (or, link) was holding a poor frog over the pot, probably more than ready to drop it in for Hylia knows what.
your shouting startles the boy, making him go wide-eyed and sheepish as you storm up to him. you take a second to glare before snatching the creature from his hands and setting it back into the small body of water that he was most likely snatched from.
"seriously? I was gone for five minutes." you protest.
his face goes expressive,
'it's for science!' he signs
"I know, link... you always say that." you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, opening your eyes to see him flipping frantically through his research book before holding it open, shoving the open page in your face.
a silly healing elixir that he had been mentioning non-stop. it was probably the reason he was so adamant about tagging along.
"yes, my liege, I know about the elixir. but if you want it so bad, why don't you just simply buy one?" you suggest, exhaustion in your voice.
his face scrunches in disgust at the idea, throwing the book down before signing again,
'too far. want to experience creating it on my own'
you look from his hands to his face, being met with his saddened eyes. if he were anyone else...
"fine..." you mumble, to which he silently celebrates, "just, not in front of me, please?"
'thank you.' he steps closer, and you smile.
'no problem'. you sign back.
* * *
★ "please be careful, my liege." you voice to the blonde prince.
he'd gladly tell you that he was fine if his hands weren't currently full. if anyone else saw how you and link interacted outside of the castle, you're sure you'd be killed for your crimes.
maybe it wasn't a good idea to let the prince of hyrule use your sword and swing it around however he pleased, but in your professional opinion— he's a natural.
"you're doing great!" you smile, shaking your head as he was caught up in his own little world. and he really was. so great that he couldn't heat a word you said. holding a weapon just felt so natural to him, and he absolutely loved it when you offered it up for him to use during leisure time.
his swings are heavy and lethal, but it's obvious to you that he isn't pacing himself. the movements are so natural that he doesn't even comprehend the strain it's putting on his body— not until his swing is stopped.
link looks down at his tightened grasp on the handle, but looseness it as he realizes that you had caught his wrist. his disgruntled expression softens significantly as he looks up at you in awe and embarrassment as you hold his wrists with one hand, and remove the handle the handle from his grip with the other.
"that's enough," tour voice rings through his head as you chuck the sword to the side, face growing serious as you keep holding his wrists, "you alright?"
he can't respond with occupied hands, and so he nods, heart pounding at your serious expression. he wonders what he's done wrong, or what should be wrong, until he begins to feel an ache in his back and shoulders, making him wince. you notice.
"I know that feeling... it's why I stopped you." you explain whilst removing your hands from him. "you're good, but you're straining yourself. you're not fit for that type of intensity."
he mouths a small 'oh', and you sigh, frowning as he rubs his aching shoulder.
"it's alright... I've got something to heal you right up."
the male smiles softly, nodding in appreciation. you were always taking care of him like this. but your encouragement for him to get a little rough and rowdy is why he liked you so much. though you wanted him safe, you weren't constantly sheltering him. he hated that.
he taps your shoulder, to which you turn to him,
'sorry.'
you smile and shake your head, "don't apologize. you did really good my liege. wonder what you'd be like as a knight, actually." you chuckle.
he smiles back, letting the butterflies float around in his tummy.
* * *
★ "what do you think you're doing?"
you felt like you've done this... a lot. for the umpteenth time, you've caught the prince walking around the castle grounds, barefoot, and draped in a softened blanket as he attempts to protect himself from the nighttime breeze.
the look he gives you is one of disappointment as he thinks you're going to take him back inside, but he's pleasantly surprised when you shake your head and simply rest a hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward.
"Don't worry...I'll sit with you."
he smiles, clutching the blanket tighter. beyond the wall, he can spot the swaying of the grass, the wispyness of the clouds in the deep blue sky, and the stillness of the ancient guardians that settled into the ground. he truly loves his kingdom, and you can see it true. he walks until he reaches a spot that makes it easy to see the vast land and takes a seat on the edge of the castle walls.
"this is nice..." you sigh as you sit beside him
he nods, and your eyes glance over to him incase he's ready to talk back. and he does:
'I think I enjoy nighttime the best.' he signs, glancing between you and the beautiful view amongst him, 'sometimes, i think about running. I want to explore.'
you heart aches
"I know, my liege... I'm sorry you feel trapped." you whisper
to your surprise, he laughs softly, shaking his head, 'not trapped... just hidden potential'
you smile. such a purse and positive response. his head turns to face you, eyes so blue that you can't help but observe them thoroughly. he scoots closer beside you, careful, as to not fall, and rest his head on your shoulder.
"I think..." you wrap his blanket around him tighter, "I think we were definitely meant to be this way, my liege." you whisper, and watch as his eyes flutter shut
but not before he nods in agreement, and your heart tate spikes at what he says next.
his hands don't communicate, no. nit this time. instead, you're blessed with a sound ao angelic, so soft that you'd dread if you accidentally missed it.
knight!reader asking dunk to try prone bone for the first time but is nervous abt her back scars and they’ve only tried missionary and cowgirl so far. she finally stammers the idea out, thinking she’s some freak for wanting anything different meanwhile he’s thought this whole time HE was the freak for also wanting to experiment but too scared to accidentally crush her under him or make her uncomfortable in any way. but after she’s voiced her desire, much to his pleasure, she’s rolling onto her belly underneath him to demonstrate her idea. and maybe she’s a little shy (thinking this is all a one-sided fantasy that he’s merely entertaining) so she kinda pushes her hair to curtain her back. but he notices immediately and is brushing her long hair to the side with gentle fingers while giving her slow but deeeeeep thrusts that’s leaving them both breathless. he’s pressing worshipful, open mouthed kisses to every scar on her back. he’s been dreaming of it ever since he accidentally saw her bare back under the moonlight when he caught her bathing and now he’s giddy getting to show her exactly how crazy he is about her.
i think once dunk gets comfortable enough with his partner, he just seeps tenderness. wet kisses anywhere on the body he can reach; back, shoulders, cheeks, back of head, and he chases her lips when she turns her head enough to lock eyes with him. i think he grips her hips harder than he intends to, but he will always kiss away any dark marks left over as part of his aftercare. i think i leans on his forearms in prone bone, presses his sweaty chest to her naked back. groaning in her ear. rubbing his calloused hands up and down her arms. interlacing his fingers over hers beside her head. occasionally running a big hand through her scalp that slides all the way to the ends. i think he is extra touchy in bed as a way to soothe both himself and his lover, especially if hes being a little rougher than he intends to be… he’s a big man he can’t help it!
