As a lover of history, and to some greater extent historical fiction, I’m looking to scratch a particular itch with this prompt. A young woman, stolen away from her village, finds a new life waiting for her—with the very man that took her away from all that she knew and loved.

Perhaps he a widower, in-need of a wet nurse and a new mother for his child; or simply a warrior looking for a woman to keep his home and warm his bed—either way, feel free to jump right in with the story with your own character, and continue where I left off if this prompt is something you're interested in!

I'm a descriptive and detailed writing partner looking for the same. I usually write 3-4 paragraphs per reply and can go over that if the scene requires it, and I'm hoping to find someone to match that. I prefer writing in 3rd Person, and prefer to keep my roleplaying on Reddit via DMs.

. . .

Voices.

There were voices, and Gwyn did not recognize a single one.

Though fear leapt up into her throat and lodged itself there like a sharp stone, Gwyn slowly opened her eyes. She had been sleeping, she realized—or perhaps it was better to say she had lost consciousness, if the dull ache at the back of her head was anything to go by. It still hurt and she gingerly stretched back to feel the welt and assess the damage. As she did so, the furs and blankets that had lying atop of her body fell away, and Gwyn stopped.

She was in a bed when she should not have been.

Like a arrow through her eyes, the ache at the back of her head intensified. The memories surfaced to the front of her mind and the young woman shot up, gasping, with unshed tears stinging her eyes. Gwyn clapped a hand over her mouth before she could cry out. Piece by piece the events that had led her to awaken in an unfamiliar bed came together, like wooden blocks being stacked one upon the other to build a tower.

Her village had been attacked by northerners in the dead of night, and caught unawares, Gwyn and her people had no way to defend themselves. Their fields were put to flame, their houses ransacked for valuables; the men had been struck down where they stood regardless of whether they were defending their families or running away, and the women—the warriors took the women back to their boats as prizes, kicking and screaming. Gwyn had managed to escape as far as the treeline, and despite knowing there was nothing but wilderness ahead of her, she would have run straight into the woods had she not tripped over something in the darkness. The pain at the back of her head must have been from when she struck a rock, or a wayward tree root, during her fall.

Before the world around her went dark, Gwyn saw a man’s figure approach her, illuminated by the flames consuming the only home she had ever known. Whoever that man had been, he must have brought Gwyn back as a prize.

Gwyn’s heart dropped to her stomach as the reality of her situation sunk in.

She looked down at herself, and found that she was still wearing her old woolen dress beneath the furs and blankets. Gwyn rolled up her sleeves, and counted only a few bruises marring her pale skin, undoubtedly from her fall. Her fiery red hair fell down to her waist, entangled with knots and twigs and leaves.

With a sigh, Gwyn raised her head to gather what she could from the unfamiliar surroundings. The room she was in was dimly lit, a weak sliver of sunlight painting a bright spot upon the wooden floor not too far away. Across the bed, she spied stairs leading to the floor below, and realized the voices must have been coming from there.

Gwyn could still hear them, in fact.

“—no child, but she is still in milk,” A raspy voice, like it belonged to an old woman, was saying. “She was with child recently, weren’t you in need of a—”

Gwyn retreated further into the bed until her back met with the wooden headboard. She hugged herself, ears ringing from what little she had heard of the conversation. The voice speaking must have been a midwife, or healer, to know the state of her body. It was the truth, and a stronger pang of loss struck her heart. Gwyn had been widowed months earlier, and while she had no great love for her husband, she had loved the child that she carried dearly. Unfortunately, not long after having given birth to a boy, an illness took both her husband and son from her.

Gwyn’s ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps ascending up the wooden stairs, and her heart quickened to a horse’s galloping pace against her ribs. Whatever it was that they needed from her, she was about to find out.

With her bravest voice, though far from strong or powerful, Gwyn called out, “Wh—Who goes there?”

. . .

Kinks: Romance, Affection, (Vague) Period Accuracy, Domesticity, Power Dynamics, Younger Women with Older Men, Age Gap, Sizeplay, Creampies, Cumplay, Body Worship, Rough Sex, Breeding, Impregnation, Pregnancy, Lactation, Breastfeeding

Limits: Blood, Extreme Violence, Humiliation, Degradation, Piss, Scat, Animals, Anal