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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

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Wrykas (Minotaur) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Minotaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Minotaur, Sex, Oral Sex, Princess, Mercenaries, Light Dom/Sub Relationship, Chubby Reader, Reader-Insert Content Warnings: Kidnapping, Abusive Parents, Neglectful Parents, Words: 6349

A submission for @hufflesmonsters! A princess is kidnapped fairly regularly by an opposing kingdom's monarchy to spite her parents, but she comes to regard the time away from her neglectful parents as vacations. One day, a single mercenary comes to retrieve her, but a sudden snowstorm forces them to spend time alone together. Please leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Being a princess came with perks and pitfalls. On the plus side, you got whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it. On the down side, your country had been in a petty feud with the neighboring kingdom since before you were born, and they seemed to think you were an excellent bargaining chip to get their demands met.

The abductions started when you were young; men hired by the crown took you from your room and held you in a secure location until your parents paid the ransom. Back then they were pretty terrifying, with blindfolds and ropes. Your captors were kind, however, and treated you well.

As you aged, though, your capture turned into something of a spontaneous vacation a couple of times a year. Your abductors would come in the dead of night, wake you and let you pack a bag, lead you to a waiting carriage, complete with wine and snacks, and you’d all tease each other as they carted you off to a chalet on the border of your two kingdoms. Both you and they thought this feud was stupid and that the abductions were a joke, but they had a job to do and you understood: got to pay the bills somehow.

The hostage situation usually ended one of two ways: either your parents paid the ransom, or they sent bonehead mercenaries who weren’t aware that this was mostly a picnic for you and came in all valiant and foolhardy, and your captors had to knock them all out, dump them back over the border, and pretend you escaped in the chaos to avoid bloodshed. You’d all struck a deal early on: no blood, no tears, no widows, no orphans. A couple of bumps on the head and some bruised egos, sure, but no one died. That was the rule. If your captors ever broke that rule, you’d become a lot less cooperative.

One night, very late into autumn, you woke to hear someone tip-toe into your room. Ah, yes. It was about time.

“Ethan?” You called.

“Yes, My Lady. It’s time,” You heard his voice call. Ethan was an older gentleman and was your first captor, gentle and accommodating, and he always oversaw your care during the abductions. He was the closest thing you had to a best friend. It was a shame you only saw him a few times a year.

“Finally,” You said, leaping out of bed and throwing on a dressing gown. “I’ve had a bag packed for weeks. You’re terribly late this season. I’ve been dying to get out of here.”

He chuckled. “My apologies, Lady, the opposing crown has been unusually reasonable this year. But it always comes back around, doesn’t it?”

“Thank the gods,” You replied, grabbing a few things from your vanity table. “I don’t know what I’d do without these trips abroad. Another day of my mother fussing about my ‘healthy appetite’ and I’ll go batty. I hate this place. Any time I can get away is a blessing.”

Ethan nodded knowingly. You’d complained to him many a time about your parents haughty nature and constant criticism of everything about you, from your weight to how you dress to your relaxed and casual attitude toward the servants.

Your parents were the worst sort of nobility, the kind people fawned over when in their presence but mocked scathingly behind their back. They were proud and arrogant and hard to please, and you were a prime example of everything they disliked. You took it as a compliment, but you did have to admit that their relentless judgment was wearing, and any break from the ferocious nagging was a welcome relief.

“Ready, Lady?” Ethan asked.

“Yes,” You said, taking his proffered hand. “And what did I tell you? You can call me by my name.”

“Nope,” He said, grinning. “You may not care about the propriety of your station, but I’d rather not have my tongue cut out, if you please.”

You sighed. “Fine, fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

There was a tunnel under the castle that a previous monarch had used to escape during a coup, and it was little known by anyone besides you. This tunnel had been discovered during your first abduction when your kidnappers hid from guards, and now it was your favorite means of escaping the castle. It led out to the woods a safe distance from the walls, where guards patrolled, and made it easy to get away.

It had taken you much effort to keep the entrance and exit hidden over the years, since your parents kept trying to discover how the kidnappers kept getting in and out so easily, but you had managed to keep it secret.

When you both were safely inside and the entrance was sealed, Ethan lit a torch and the two of you made your way out into the woods. Once there, he led you to the waiting carriage and ushered you inside. He jumped up into the driver’s box with Ira, another regular who you were friendly with, and snapped the reins, jolting the carriage forward and toward your secret hideaway.

It was nearly mid-day by the time you arrived there, and you had fallen asleep on the way. Ethan gently shook you awake and took your bag, offering you a hand as you stepped down. Ah… if only he weren’t married.

“How long do you think I’ve got?” You asked him as he opened the door to the perfectly kept chalet.

“Oh, likely a week. I mean, they know where the chalet is, but at this point, finding mercenaries that we haven’t beaten up will be difficult.”

“Wonderful,” I said, clapping my hands and opening my luggage. “I can’t wait to get settled and relax for a while.”

“We’ve got guards patrolling the perimeter. If there’s any trouble, we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Ethan,” You said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You and your men are my best boys. If I ever become queen, you lads are definitely hired as my Queen’s Guard.”

He grinned and bowed, leaving you to get comfortable.

That evening, most of the boys who weren’t out guarding the perimeter sat with you for a full dinner and a card game. You took Tebin for every coin he was worth, and Jos won it all back with a smug grin on his wide face. Ruik got drunk and tried wearing your dressing gown, but being a goblin, it trailed several feet behind him as he moved and he tripped over it constantly, making the chalet shake with laughter. The boys may have been hardened mercenaries, but they always had the best booze and sure knew how to show a lady a good time.

Around midnight, when things were winding down, there was some commotion outside in the distance. All the men got grim looks on their faces, except for Ruik, who was passed out on a footstool, and pulled out their weapons. You pulled your own short sword from under the mattress and leveled it at the door. The sword had been a gift on your thirteenth birthday from the lads, and each one had taken it upon themselves to show you a trick or two with it.

“Ethan!” Gern called. He was the only orc on the team. “You better get out here! We’ve got a spot of trouble!”

“What’s going on?” Ethan called through the door.

“Big fella took out the perimeter guard. They ain’t dead, but their gonna be limpin’ tomorrow. Big bastard says he won’t hurt nobody else if you come out and have a chat with him. Says he knows you.”

“Ask him his name!” Ethan responded.

There was a few seconds of muffled conversation, and Gern called back, “Wrykas!”

Ethan’s eyes widened and he sheathed his sword. “Wrykas?” He said in an undertone. “Holy shit, I thought he was dead.” He turned to you. “Stay here, lass, I’ll sort this out.” He looked at the other lads. “Keep her safe.”

The others nodded sternly and tightened the grip on their various weapons. The lot of you waited tersely as Ethan talked to the newcomer, unable to hear what they were saying. After a moment, Ethan came back in and instructed everyone to lower their weapons. The boys did so reluctantly. You lowered your own sword, but kept it in hand.

Ethan came back into the cottage, followed by an absolutely massive minotaur that had to duck in order to get his horns in the door. You were taken aback by his size and coloration. You’d seen minotaurs before, but this one was striking. He had white fur from the tip of his nose to the top of his head, and also down his chest, but his ears and eyes were brown, and his neck, back, and shoulders were covered in black fur. There were white and brown speckles, like freckles, on his shoulders.

Oh no… he’s cute.

Ethan slapped Wrykas on the shoulder. “This is an old army buddy of mine, Wrykas.” Ethan then introduced all of the gang.

“And I assume this little lady is the princess I’ve been hired to retrieve?” The minotaur asked.

“No! Already?” You whined, tutting. “Damn it. I was hoping for at least a few days of peace and quiet.”

Wrykas snorted, seemingly confused. “You don’t… want to go back?”

“Hell no! I hate it there. These ‘abductions’ are the only time I get to be myself and not have to worry about my parents bullshit. You’re ruining my vacation, you dick!”

Wrykas’s head rocked back in surprise. Whatever he expected you to say to him, that wasn’t it.

You groaned and began packing your things. “Did you bring the ransom?”

“I… no, their Majesties hired me to retrieve you. My skill is apparently something to be commended because they sought me out specifically.”

“Well, considering you took out four of Ethan’s men, there must be some truth to it.” You took out a sack of gold from your bag that was enough to both cover the ransom and buy the boys a few shiny new toys as well, and tossed it to Ethan. He snatched it from the air with a wink.

“You have the ransom?” Wrykas asked.

“Of course,” You scoffed. “These guys have mouths to feed. I’m not going to let their babies go hungry because my parents and the neighboring monarchy are having a twenty-five-year temper tantrum.”

“You’re… not what I expected from speaking with the crown,” Wrykas said.

“That’s not surprising,” You replied dryly as you help Ethan and the men get their gear together. “My parents don’t know anything about me. They haven’t bothered to know me since I was a small child.”

“Well,” Wrykas said, turning to Ethan and putting his hand on his old friend shoulders. “It’s the middle of the night. There’s no reason for your gang to move out now. You can get a fresh start in the morning.” He turned back to you. “We can, too.”

You sighed. “Well, I guess one full day of freedom is better than nothing.” You fluffed out your bed, preparing to get in it. “Ethan will show you where the men sleep. Be civil while you’re in there.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him, lass, no worries,” Ethan said, and you nodded. Ethan led the lads out behind Wrykas, though they were all still glaring at him tersely.

The rest of the night followed without incident, beyond Ruik climbing onto the foot of your bed, still wearing the dressing gown, and falling asleep at your feet like a puppy

The next morning, just after breakfast, the boys got their gear packed and ready to go. You’d miss them, like always, but they had other jobs to do and families to look after. They couldn’t be your boys all the time. They were other people’s boys, too.

As they were getting ready to head out, you leaned in close to Ethan and whisper, “Is this guy alright?” You jerked your head back at Wrykas. “Tell me the truth.”

“He’s a decent sort,” Ethan whispered back. “At least, he was in the army.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Fifteen years? Something like that. Before I left to become a sell sword.”

You fixed him with a wry expression. “Fifteen years is plenty of time for a person to change.”

Ethan wasn’t paying attention. He was looking down at you with a fond expression. “You were the first job I took, you know?”

You cocked your head and smiled. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” He said. “I didn’t know you were a child, though. They just told me to take the neighboring kingdom’s princess and hold her in a secure location. When I realized you were a child, I almost quit.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged a little and looked sheepish. “I’m ashamed to say I needed the money. I’d just had my first girl and we needed food.”

“And look at us now,” You said, smiling. “Best friends twice a year.”

He laughed. “Yeah. Life is weird.”

“So see you next spring, then?” You asked.

“If they don’t send us, we’ll come on our own, just so’s I can win back that sack of gold you took off me last night.”

You grinned. “Good luck with that. Kiss your girls for me,” You told him.

He pulled you into a bear hug. “I will,” he replied with a smile. “You look after yourself back at that prison. Don’t let your wardens get you down.”

You smiled back and nodded, pulling your cloak tighter around you against the late autumn chill. You then moved on to the others to give them hugs and kisses on the cheek. Wrykas sat on the woodcutting stump, watching all this happen.

The gang was off then, waving back at you as they left, and you watched them disappear around the bend and out of sight. Sighing sadly, you turned to your new companion, eyeing him with some skepticism.

“Hands to yourself,” You said. He put up his hands and raised his eyebrows in acquiescence. You then went back into the chalet to pack.

He stood with a shoulder braced on the doorframe, watching you, and folded his arms. “You say you expected to be here for several days?”

“Yep,” You said with a sigh. “I usually have a few days, either with the boys or by myself.” You stopped for a moment and reminisced. “There was one year where I had three whole weeks. Gods. Those were the best weeks of my life.”

“Why do you call them boys?” He asked curiously. “The youngest of them has to be at least five years your senior.”

“Because…” You shrugged. “They’re… my boys. My friends. What else would I call them?”

“They do kidnap you.”

“It’s not kidnapping if I want to go. It’s more like a rescue.”

He was silent for a moment, then walked over and took the dress you were packing from your hands.

“Do you really hate it there so much?” He asked.

“Yes,” You replied venomously.

“Why? You’re a princess. You live in a castle. You have servants waiting on you hand and foot. What’s so bad about that?”

You sighed again and turned to sit on the bed. “What was your life like, growing up?”

He seemed surprised by the questions and sat down next to you, his eyes distant.

“I grew up on a farm. It was backbreaking work and we barely raised enough to keep ourselves fed, let alone sell anything. Five minotaur boys is a lot of mouths to feed.”

“You have four brothers?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said. “They’re all still on the farm with my parents, but I couldn’t stand farm work. I wanted more. More money, more freedom, more acclaim, just… more, you know? More than the life of a farmer.”

“But you’re family? What were they like? Did they love you?”

His brow furrowed. “Of course they loved me, they were my family.”

“You’ve never wondered? You’ve never had reason to think they didn’t love you?” You pressed.

“No, never.” He squinted at you. “Is that how it is for you?”

You took a deep breath and released it slowly. “My parents’ marriage was arranged. More to the point, they really disliked each other and didn’t want to marry, but the political climate was tense and their marriage was the only thing preventing a war. Their dislike of each other turned to absolute hatred pretty quickly. The only reason I even exist is because they were expected to create an heir, and I couldn’t even manage to be born a boy.” You stared out the window at the fast moving clouds. “A disappointment from the beginning.”

“Gods,” He said softly, and you looked over and saw he was staring at you with a gentle expression, which did a weird thing to your stomach. “I can’t imagine a parent hating their own child.”

“Oh, my father is indifferent to the point of failing to acknowledge my existence most of the time. I don’t think he cares enough to actually hate me. That’s all my mother. When I was young, she used to have cute ‘pet names’ for me and offer ‘helpful suggestions’ that I know now were outright insults.”

“What sort of things would she say?” He asked.

“That I was her fat little piggy, that I’d eat my weight if she didn’t watch me, that if I stood straighter, I would look less like a gargoyle stalking it’s prey, that if I wore my hair up, people wouldn’t notice how mousy and stringy it was, that if I wore rouge and lip color, I’d look less like a rotting corpse. Things like that.”

“What a vile woman,” He said, scowling. “She seemed unpleasant when I met with her, but I didn’t realize how truly awful she was.”

“She’s not exactly secretive about it. The castle staff hates her. I’d know; I spend more time with them that I do with my parents, which is another point of contention.” You stretched and stood. “But, I guess there’s nothing for it. They’re waiting. I might as well get this over with.” You reached for the dress he was holding, but he didn’t let go.

“Actually, that’s what I was coming to talk to you about,” He said, pointing out the open door. He stood and beckoned you to follow him, and you did so. The fast moving clouds you’d seen out the window were growing dark.

“A storm?” You asked him.

“Not just a storm,” He replied, narrowing his eyes and flaring his nostrils. “Do you smell it?”

“Smell?”

“The change in the air. There’s a cold front coming. I’d bet anything the temperature is going to keep dropping. We’ll likely be up to our knees in snow by midnight.”

“Oh,” You said. “So… what do we do?”

“Wait it out,” He replied, looking down at you with a sly smile. “Looks like your vacation just got extended.”

You actually gave him a real smile then, trying hard not to bounce on your heels in excitement.

“Your firewood is low. I should cut some more before the snow starts,” He said.

“Alright,” You told him. “How much is in the men’s quarters?”

“Not sure,” He admitted. “Would you mind checking?”

“Alright,” You said, turning.

The chalet was split into two rooms that were not connected; in order to get from room to room, you had to go outside from one door and go inside through another. You’d never actually been in the men’s quarters before. There had never really been a reason to before now. When you went in, you were actually a little shocked at the sight of it.

It was as large as your own room, but that’s where the comparisons ended. Where your room was bright and decorated and had food and comforts aplenty, this room was completely bare. The floor was cold stone, there was a dark hearth at the end of the room and a stack of furs and threadbare blankets neatly folded in the corner. There were some shelves with jars of preserves, and a container of salted meat. That was it.

Gods, you had no idea they were sleeping in these conditions. Why hadn’t they said anything? You’d have sprung for beds and good blankets. You made up your mind with a frown to return here in a few weeks and leave some surprises for their next stay.

Next to the hearth, you saw a small pile of firewood, enough only for a few hours. Clutching your cloak, you ducked back outside. And stopped short.

Wrykas had removed his sleeveless tunic and was chopping wood shirtless. You could see the muscles in his back move against his skin as he raised the axe and brought it down to split the logs.

No.. no, no… Not good…

“There’s not much in there,” You called to him, smacking yourself mentally to pull yourself out of his obliques.

“I’ll cut up some extra, then,” He said, casually, bending to pick up another log and put it up on the stump, his arm flexing as it moved.

It was time to go do something that… was not slobbering over your would-be rescuer, so you decide to start on lunch.

Wrykas had been right. No sooner had he finished the wood that snow began to fall, softly at first, but getting heavier by the minute. He made quick work of stacking the wood next to your hearth and was surprised when you handed him a steaming bowl of soup.

“Thanks,” He said. “I wouldn’t have guessed you knew how to cook.”

“Cause I’m a princess?” You asked wryly. “I told you, I spend more time with the servants and kitchen staff than I do at galas or grand balls. If I had a proper kitchen, I could cook literally anything.”

“Full of surprises,” He said, winking at you. He was still shirtless. You keep your eyes on your soup and tried to keep from staring.

Night fell, and with it the came the storm Wrykas had warned you about.

“I should go start the fire in the men’s quarters,” Wrykas said.

“Actually,” You said, reaching out to stop him. “Why don’t you sleep in here tonight? Even with the fire, it’s bound to be terribly cold in there, and even with your tolerance, you’ll be freezing.”

He laughed. “I appreciate your concern, Lady, but I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“Please,” you said, keeping your grip on his arm. “I insist.”

“You’re sure?” He asked, and you nodded. He looked startled, but replied, “Alright. If you wish.”

“Would you mind turning so I can change for the evening?” You asked him.

“Not at all,” He said, turning to face the wall.

You took off your restricting skirted bodice with a relieved sigh. You mother insisted you wear them to “maintain a semblance of a figure despite your unfortunate size,” so they were the only outerwear you had. You’d go around in your shift all day if it didn’t make the boys blush. They were more of a family to you than your own family, so you didn’t want to make them uncomfortable unnecessarily.

Wrykas, however…

You decided not to put on a nightdress or a dressing gown, and stayed in the sheer shift you wore under your outer clothes. You also took your hair out of it’s brain and let it hang freely around your shoulders. You felt a little self-conscious about your body and weight, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be comfortable.

“I’m finished,” You said. He turned and opened his mouth to say something, but when he saw you, no sound came out of his mouth. He just stood there, staring, and not saying anything.

You suppressed an urge to cover yourself. “Everything alright?” You asked him.

He jumped as if someone had smacked his mouth, and closed it. “Yes, sorry. I was… um… caught off guard.”

You snorted. “By what?”

He cleared his throat. “You… uh… you look nice.”

You blinked a few times. “I just took my hair down and I’m wearing less clothing. I didn’t do anything to look nice.”

“You still look nice,” He said, scratching his neck and looking at the ground.

“Well… would you like to play a card game?” You asked him.

“Actually, I’m a bit tired. I spent most of yesterday traveling here and I didn’t sleep well. I was thinking of turning in early, if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, sure, yes, of course,” You replied, going to your bed and pulling back the coverlet. When you turned back, you saw him laying out a fur on the ground.

“What are you doing?” You asked him.

He looked at you, then the fur, and then back at you in confusion. “Laying out my bed?”

“Don’t be silly,” I said, patting the bed. “The bed is big enough for four people. There’s no reason for you to sleep on the floor. Come on.”

He visibly gulped. “Are you--”

“Get up here!” I said.

He smirked at me. “So demanding, princess. I wonder if anyone’s ever told you ‘no’ before.”

“Are you going to be the first?” You asked him, a hand on your hip.

He snorted and picked up the fur, laying it over the back of a chair. He put a few more logs in the hearth and extinguished the lanterns before coming to the bed. You scooched over to accommodate him. Gods, he was warm.

At first, you maintained a respectable distance apart, but as the night got colder, you found yourself moving closer and closer to Wrykas. If he felt you moving, he gave no sign.

The smell of him, his warmth, the memory of his muscles as he swung the axe, flooded your senses, and you could feel the rising tension in your body.

“Are you awake?” You asked softly.

“It is rather hard to sleep with a beautiful woman lying so close to me,” He said quietly.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “You don’t have to make jokes.”

He turned over and braced himself on his elbow, looking down at you with a frown. Did he have to be shirtless all the time? “What are you talking about?”

You didn’t answer. You tried to roll over, but he stopped you.

“Do you think I was joking when I said you were beautiful?” He asked.

“Weren’t you?”

“No,” He said seriously. You couldn’t help but notice that his hand was creeping up your arm.

“I’m plain and unappealing,” You told him.

“Bullshit,” He said. “You have the loveliest eyes of anyone I’ve ever seen. You hair looks like silk in the firelight. Your skin is so soft, it’s like you bath in lotion. I’ve never felt skin so soft.”

“I… I’m fat,” You said, your voice wavering.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with your size. What about that makes you less attractive?”

“Ask my mother, she’ll tell you all about it,” You said sourly.

“Your mother is a angry shrew who hates everything; what does her opinion matter? I think you’re gorgeous.”

You looked up at his sweet brown eyes, looking down at you with no deception or guile, and your heart thumped harder.

“You mean it?” You asked him in a hushed whisper. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes,” He said simply.

You didn’t even think about it. You lifted your head and kissed him. He kissed you back enthusiastically. He wasted no time in touching you; your stomach, your hips, your breasts. He slowly drew the underdress up and over your head, leaving you nude in the bed. He pulled the covers down so that he could look at your body.

He got up and pulled off his trousers, his member already fully erect. It was black and speckled, like his shoulders. If it weren’t for the size of it, you’d have called it cute.

He got back into the bed and knelt between your knees, his cock bobbing and pulsing as he soaked in the sight of you. You were doing the same to him, greatly admiring his hard, well-defined, multi-colored body.

He put his hands under your knees and pulled them up and apart, staring hungrily at what lay between. He lay kisses up your thighs, alternating with each one, until he reached that place that ached with want.

His tongue came out and pressed itself to your slit, and it was still. It didn’t move. You moaned in both pleasure and anticipation, but he pulled away.

“Hey!”

He crawled up your body and smirked at you. “No one has ever told you what to do, have they?”

“Besides my mother? No. But I don’t listen to her.”

“Would you listen to me?” He asked.

“What do you have in mind?” You replied curiously.

His smirk widened and he lay on his back with his hands behind his head. “Why don’t you take care of me the first?”

You got up and took his length in you hand. His body jerked at the first touch and he grunted, but he relaxed as you pumped him slowly. You bent your head and licked the flat head, and he grunted again.

He was as apparently as impatient as you were. He put his hand in your hair and gently pushed your head down, and you sucked him into your mouth. He was too big to take him all in, so you used both hands to massage the rest. He kept his hand on your head and applied gentle pressure on it as you sucked. He groaned and grunted, making you wetter.

He pulled your hair up a little to signal you to stop. He then pounced on you, flipping you on your stomach and laying you flat against the bed. He kissed down your back and ran his hands over your bottom, spreading your legs as wide open as he could with you in this position. He stuck one of his large fingers inside you, and you gasped.

“Mmm,” He purred. “You’re just right.”

“I can’t wait, please,” You begged. “Please, Wrykas.”

“A princess begging?” He said, and you heard a smile in his voice. “I think I like that. Do it again.”

“Please, Wrykas, please, please,” You said, over and over. You felt him nudge your entrance, and your begging increase in pitch and frequency. He pushed himself inside slowly, and you cried out, gripping the sheets.

“Say thank you,” He purred into your ear as he began to move inside you.

“Thank you, Wrykas,” You breathed.

“Louder,” He said.

“Thank you, Wrykas!”

He began to move faster, putting his hands over yours and gripping them as he did. He lay his head next to yours so you could hear his heavy breathing and moans. Gods, it was hot.

You cried out loudly, and the put one of his hands over your mouth, muffling you. You were right next to his large ears, and your shrill cried of pleasure were likely painful.

He sped up, and your screams of pleasure increased. You could feel yourself riding up to that peak, feeling your body tense as the wall of ecstasy, crying out against his hand.

His grunts got faster more intense, and you could feel from his pulsating inside you that he was close too. Your legs began to tremble as the wave crashed over you. He kept up the pace as your pleasure ebbed, then abruptly pulled out and released all over your bottom and back, snorting and grunting and bellowing.

He collapsed forward, braced on his hands so he didn’t fall in to the mess he’d made, and huffed to get his breath back. You felt the warmth drift across your back every time he exhaled, and it made your spine tingle.

“You alright?” You asked him breathlessly.

He laughed and kissed your shoulder. “I’m lovely.” You felt him raise up and slide off the bed. “Wait there, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You opened on eye and watched him walk naked to the pot of washing water that you kept close to the fire so that it would stay warm and dunked a rag into it. He rung it out and brought it back, and you admired the view as he did with a side smile.

Once he’d cleaned you, and wiped himself off as well, he got back into the bed and pulled you against him. He kissed your face until you fell asleep.

You passed the next few days of the storm in bed, blissfully wrapped up in the best lovemaking of your life. He took control, and to your surprise, you loved it. You loved being told what to do during sex. You loved following his commands. It was thrilling.

Eventually, the storm began to die down, and your spirits started to dampen.

Wrykas noticed. “What’s the matter?”

“When the storm blows over, I have to go back,” You said sadly, laying your head back against his chest.

He put his arms around you and lay his cheek on the top of your head.

“Have you ever considered running away?” He asked you.

“Run away?” You asked in return, swiveling to look at him in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Leave. Go somewhere else. Another kingdom. My parent’s farm is in Farrowville, you could go there. They’d take care of you.”

You looked at him in shock. “You want me to live with you?”

“Not with me, I don’t live there,” He said. “I actually don’t have any sort of permanent residence, but I visit them often between jobs. They’re very loving people. They’d take good care of you.”

“You’re serious,” You said. “You’re really talking about running.”

“Why not?” He asked. “It’s clear your parents don’t value you. Hell, it shouldn’t be so easy to steal you away twice a year. They haven’t strengthened their guards or made arrangements for your protection. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were behind your abductions, maybe even made some kind of deal with the opposite kingdom disguised as a political dispute, just to get you out of their sight for a while.”

Your head rocked back at the thought. It had never occurred to you before, but now that he had said it out loud, it made perfect sense. Wow. They really did hate you, didn’t they?

“You’re sure your family won’t mind taking me in?” You asked, suddenly nervous about the prospect of a whole new life.

“Not at all. They really are wonderful people.” He sighed with a smile on his face. “I love my family, just not the way they live. I just wasn’t born to be a farmer.”

You smiled at his smile, as gentle as it was.

“The house is rather small, and they will expect you to earn your keep, but their not harsh or cruel. I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“I’m not worried about the work…” You said slowly, looking around the chalet. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes,” He said, taking your hand. “You’ll be with kind people who will care for you, and I’ll see you all the time.”

“Is that something you want?” You asked him playfully.

He smirked wryly and kissed you hard. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You bit your lip. “Yes, I will.”

“That’s my princess. Say yes.”

You smiled and pressed your face into his shoulder. “Yes.”

Three months passed with Wrykas’s family, and it was the happiest you’d ever been. Wrykas’s parents were just as kind and loving as he told you they’d be, and his brothers were proper country gentlemen, always asking if you needed help or if there was anything they could do for you.

Wrykas visited at least once a week, usually bring back coin or furs or other spoils from his work. Sometime back, he had gone to inform Ethan and his gang what had happened, so every so often he came back with gifts and trinkets from your boys. You missed them, but you were finally happy.

Then, Wrykas showed up at the farm with Ethan and the gang in tow. you were immediately alarmed.

“What’s going on?” You asked, dropping the hoe you were using. “What’s happened?”

“Your parents have been deposed,” Wrykas said. “They’ve been sent into exile. Most of the people in your kingdom believe you dead, so there was an uprising. They felt that since the crown couldn’t protect you, how could they possibly protect the people.”

“That’s great news!” You exclaimed, but Ethan stopped you.

“There’s also bad news. With your parents gone, there’s a power vacuum that other members of your extended family are trying to fill. You’re the heir. If you went back, you could take the throne. Your right to it is beyond contest.”

“That’s true,” You said, rubbing your chin. “I could finally end these petty laws my parents put into place and get the country back on track.” You slapped Ethan on the arm. “You and your gang still want to be my Queen’s guard?”

Ethan blinked at you. “You were serious about that?”

“Hell yes, I was serious. You and the boys and your families will all move into the castle and replace all the up-tight, snooty ladies-in-waiting my mother appointed for me. You in?”

Ethan looked to the lads, who all grinned excitedly. “We’re in, lass. We’re with you all the way.”

You looked up at Wrykas, kissed him, and smirked. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” He asked quizzically.

“Remember when we first met and you said you wanted more from life?”

He smiled, still a little confused. “Yeah.”

“How does ‘prince’ sound to you?” You asked with a big smile.

His face split into a wide grin. “Sounds like something I was born to do.”

“Good,” You said, putting your arms around his neck. “Then let’s get to our coronation.”

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fantroll-purgatory · 5 years

Text

Cablin Patcha

(WHERE DOING THIS MAN,,,, WHR’E MAKKING it…. HAPPEN)

(I’m going to start designing Proximian trolls mostly for fun but… maybe people will like them.)

World: PROXIMIAAAAAAAAAAA, Land of Deep Waters, Plant of Hemospectrum Nonsense

Name: Cablin Patcha

Both of his names are a reference to the Patchouli plant (Pogostemon cablin), which has an essential oil that’s distinctly scented, used in perfumes and candles for ages in many parts of the world. Notably, it also may or may not be good termite repellent.

It’s also part of the deadnettle family and while your boy isn’t a musician I can’t help but think of death metal puns…

Age: 8 Sweeps!

Theme/Story: Cablin Patcha is a boy who would not have made it in the Old Lands, and frankly, he’s glad they decided to blow off course and be here for several cycles. An herbalist specializing in scents and poisons, there are days he wishes he could leave the Jade life behind and be a simple farmer, but it calls to him more than he’d like to admit…

His main character themes are around identity and depersonalization: how much do you become the mask you wear? What happens if you run away from the role you’ve cast yourself in?

Goals: General Overview/Proximian Canon Compliance/Fashion? We love Fashion.

Strife Specibus: Knifekind, Poisonkind

A blade in the dark is worth much more than a gun in the sun. Cablin has a curated suite of poisons designed to eliminate targets of any blood color, though he’s been experimenting since his hands grew in, so he’s got more experimental formulae in the back.

Lends itself nicely to some alchemization concepts.

Fetch Modus: Sommelier

Have you ever tried to guess notes of scent from a bottle of wine? It’s a lot harder than they make it sound on TV.

I love thattt. Keen sense of smell makes him a more deadly hunter, too.

Blood Color: Jade

Cablin struggles with the “warm and loving” part of his caste’s nature, and leans much harder into the “fussy perfectionist” side. A clean kill or a well balanced scent is much more satisfying than trying to help every fool find his way back home.

I lowkey feel like Proximian Jades are also not vampire stereotypes, but then again… a class of infiltrators lends itself very well to them all acting like 90s mall goths…

I love the fussy perfectionist thing, but I also feel like taking on a little more soothing properties later down the line is necessary for a patchouli-named character. Then again, patchouli gives me migraines LOL.

But yeah, there’s probably a different connotation to jades in general on proximia? Maybe more of a spy/ninja/general goth stereotype instead of just vampires? Social vampires more than aesthetic ones.

Symbol and Meaning: VIRO, SIGN OF THE REDEMPTIVE

Handle: @FreesianForgiven

I imagine that Trollstagram is real big on Proximia. Or Proximiagram. You feel me. Cablin’s is a sly reference to one of his favorite scents as well as a religious reference: Jade’s worship The Forgiven also as The Perfumed, the lady of endless masks and disguises. I imagine his is entirely aesthetic pictures of caves and of flowers in the rain. No selfies, ever. Occasionally you can catch his shadow in the flickering light of the torches, but nothing more. Certainly NEVER does Stories.

I love this jhbgh. Does he post perfume process photos or is he Guarding His Scented Secrets?

Quirk: when he’s DMing other trolls he types everything like it’s a billie eilish song title… with lots of ellipses… has a bad habit of debasing himself in a dramatic fashion, because he’s just absolutely the worst, you know… just can’t do a thing right… never should have made it out of the pool…

Special Abilities: Proximian Jades aren’t biologically different than Alternian Jades, though they have a lot more cultural baggage here than there.

Lusus: Cave-dwelling Jades likely don’t have very big lusii, given the caverns that they live in. I have this vision that he lives in a section of the cave with a big ol’ hole in the roof that drives him insane every time it rains (which is often), but he’s got a big old fruit-grasshopper that bounds out in search of tasty snacks all the time.

Oh that’s incredibly cute. Hello, fruit grasshopper. But I am contractually obligated to suggest Assassin Bugs, who break into termite mounds, inject them with toxins, and then wear their corpses. Y’know. Either or.

Interests: The Life Of The Forgiven, Stealth, Herbalism, Perfumery, Viticulture, Photography, Imitating Other Hemotriads

Or, in HS format: You are now CABLIN. You are LOWKEY AN ARTISTE but don’t want to admit it. You wouldn’t want the other Jades thinking that you might have HOBBIES outside of UPROOTING REBELLION IN THE COMMONS. When you’re not COMMITTING SHADOW MURDER for the greater good, you like to CONTEMPLATE WINE AND PERFUME as well as THE PERFUMED, savior and goddess to your people. You have been known to LURK on Trollstagram.

Beautiful, Powerful, Excellent.

Appearance: Proximian Jades get a pass on the color department because when they fly in Green, an Inquisition is happening, and people jump when they say jump. Cablin actually does wear a lot of black when at home, something other Jades find a little immature. It’s practical, he says! Big, dramatic capes in black are easy to wash and wear. It’s TOTALLY not because he has an identity crisis whenever he’s not pretending to be a Violet or a Gold out in the field.

God I love him. I can definitely imagine him wearing billowing clothes, here for the dramaticism and the flair. Maybe a tendency to wear garbs he can use to hide his horns? No one can tell you’re a Jade if they can’t see your hornhook.

Personality: Cablin’s a reclusive perfectionist who thinks he’s some kind of high society man. He struggles with finding an identity outside of the people he pretends to be, and he’s a single minded workaholic. Everything to him is a project to work on, whether that be chemistry or murder. He’s a bit self-absorbed in that manner, and more than a little obsessed with how people perceive him. It hasn’t dawned on him that all this posturing is making people look at him MORE, not less.

This lends him very well to religion. Jades have a kind of insular religion (somewhat shared with other members of the Throne Triad, but not to that extent), and they fall like anyone else on the religiosity spectrum. Cablin’s on the devout end, and tries to take the Perfumed’s many lessons on deception and trickery for the greater good into himself. That doesn’t make up for the hole in his stomach where his soul should be, though.

)^: Maybe he needs a nice Forgiven ocean quest of his own to just go out and be FREE. Jk he’d drown.

Lunar Sway: Derse

There’s a comment in the Derse writeup about how many Dersites hide themselves behind false humility, and that’s Cablin to a T. Constantly talking AROUND himself as opposed to tackling his own issues head on, downplaying his real self but also being kind of pompous dick about it. He’s not one for Strilonde Irony, but he’s got the Derse hangups all the same.

The Deep Dersite Dissatisfaction With The State Of Being Strikes Again!

Title: X of Heart

I struggle with picking a good Class that gives this cold boy some warm development. He’s a solid Heart Player, and that ties in very nicely to his impersonation skills. (I figure Proximia breeds a lot of Heart/Mind Jades)

A lot of my quickcast ideas seem to breed negative development, Heir fits that he is passively changed and manipulated, but does that help him get past his own issues? Does it make him a better person?

I thiiiink he’s probably going to be a utilization player, Knight or Page. They are usually overwhelmed by and not quite reaching the potential of their identities yet and all that, you know. Knights and Pages have their tendencies to put on airs or to have fantasies that they indulge, too. I might cast him as a Knight- active user of identity. He has to figure out how to become his true self and weaponize that appropriately, get past all the bullshittery and acting refined and be Himself. The inversion, Rogue of Mind, implies a redistribution and reallocation of thought and action, facades, spreading himself thin between personas. Fun!

-CD

#jadeblood #submission #proximia #cablin patcha #cablin #patcha #review #cd review #sonatinetheworld

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