#chess metaphors
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
callipraxia · 2 years ago
Text
Just spent about half an hour working out my answer to the question, "so, if I were to regard the plot of Gravity Falls as part of a chess game played to put Bill in check...who would fill all of the roles?" Because this is obviously a sensible use of my time after midnight...Plus, by sheer coincidence, I actually have sixteen characters who can logically compose Team Good Guys! To demonstrate, with explanations below the cut now that I know how those work on this site:
Pawns: Filbrick, Caryn, Shermie, Shermie's wife/girlfriend/whoever Shermie had a kid with, Dipper and Mabel's parents, Robbie, and Pacifica.
Knights: Dipper and Wendy
Bishops: Fiddleford and Gideon
Rooks: Stan and Soos
Queen: Mabel
King: Ford
Those last two should not be read as implying any weird ships, because...ew. Rather, it's all in how their actions correspond to the relevant pieces/the fact that they are in fact arguably both ex-royalty (Ford's the ex-king of the Finger Dimension, one could interpret Jeff the Gnome's comments as meaning that Mabel was, briefly and on a technicality, Queen of the Gnomes before she busted out the leaf blower). As for the more relevant bits:
The information in Ford's head makes him a vital piece for Team Good Guys: if Bill extracts said information, the game's over. Ford is also very limited in his options (the piece can move in any direction, but only one square at a time) and is just as easily trapped into check by his own pieces - it's his attachment to Dipper and Mabel which nearly allowed Bill to pull off a ‘smothered mate’-like situation.
Mabel is a strong piece with a very respectable track record of violence toward Bill. She can also move in any direction in a very literal way (grappling hook!) and this ability is what gives her uncles time to execute the twin switch which 'won the game.' On which note...
I think I read that it's different now (full disclosure, I'm a lousy chess player), but at one point in the history of the game, castling rules allowed an unmoved King to swap places with one of his unmoved Rooks. The Rooks, meanwhile, are moving buildings that flatten pretty much all in their path. Seemed like a description anyone Stan ever punched would agree with. Soos could go here or as Knight II; I stuck him here because he takes over the same role as Stan at the end of the series (plus, you know it would make him so happy).
If Soos is with the Rooks, then Dipper and Wendy become the Knights. Look at them in Weirdmageddon I! And in general (Dipper was pretty much born not moving the same way as anyone else in the game: ‘ladder shoes’, anyone?), but in that episode, when the two of them work together, they go from "surviving out here, which is already impressive and indicative of unusual skills" to "have decimated Bill's ground forces by flipping Gideon and are gearing up to take on a magic trap directly." Plus, Wendy customarily carries an axe; if she wanted to, she could go very medieval on folks.
Speaking of medieval (sort of) - our Bishops, Fiddleford and Gideon. Aside from both being at least religion-adjacent in supplementary materials (Gideon reads Preacher's Digest and behaves like a televangelist, Fiddleford is specifically stated to make the sign of the cross when he steps over a grave), they also fit well enough with the incomparable Terry Pratchett's description of the role in chess: "Bishops move diagonally. That's why they often turn up where the kings don't expect them to be." Certainly both Fiddleford and Gideon end up in places Bill didn't expect them to be, and they both go the long way about accomplishing their goals, too, preferring manipulation and ranged tech (robots, science guns, proxies, etc.) to direct confrontations, though they will if they must and may well show slightly disturbing glee while they’re about it - rather like the mace-wielding bishops of yore, no?
Which just leaves our eight pawns: Filbrick, Caryn, Dipper and Mabel's parents, one set of Dipper and Mabel's grandparents, Robbie, and Pacifica. The first six fit the role well: they are the 'front line' which made initial moves (had kids, raised kids, screwed said kids up something awful on occasion) and allowed the more powerful pieces to 'develop' long enough to get to Weirdmageddon/have the mental health issues that create their circumstances at that time. Pacifica's season two arc also makes her fit nicely into the role of Promoted Pawn: at first, she may compete for everything as the 'face' of the Northwest family, but she has so little real power of her own that she is cowered by a bell. Later, though, after fighting her way through Lilliputtians and aiding in the capture of a Category 10 ghost, she breaks the bell conditioning and saves the town. During the endgame, she is in the right place at the right time to first get the sweater Mabel made her and then to realize it meant she was part of the Destiny Circle. I'd say she made it to the other end of the board.
And then there's Robbie. Who I just stuck in here because he wasn't cool enough to be Knight II and nothing else fit at all. Sorry, Robbie.
120 notes · View notes
Note
So, I was talking with some friends over here and we just made the connection of there being six animorphs and six archetypes of chess pieces! So now we're wondering: if you had to assign each Animorph to a chess piece, who do you think would be what?
Answered here!
12 notes · View notes
tilda-rothery · 1 year ago
Text
Breaking away from Dovesso to attempt to write a Hicsqueak one-shot 🫣
Her life, Hecate decides, is no different than that of a game of chess.
16 notes · View notes
veralevina15 · 2 years ago
Text
My Radovid's chess monologue analysis is now on AO3!
Tumblr media
"His greatest foes surrounds him. His own chessmen might trap him. And that is check...and death". Unfortunately, many fans of The Witcher didn't understand Radovid's chess monologue, in which His Majesty vividly and accurately described a black and white checkered field of politics. Let's figure out what the Stern King told Geralt in the chess club!
Continue reading on AO3...
Don't forget about kudos! Not only registered users but also guests can leave kudos and comments!
You can also read my chess monologue analysis on Tumblr
Эта же статья на русском на AO3 и на Фикбуке
23 notes · View notes
quicksilverlightning · 1 year ago
Text
“It’s a killing game, Kaito,” Kokichi sighs, letting some small part of the mask slip to reveal the bone-deep exhaustion that has settled into his being. “Everyone here has been too focused on the killing part to realize that they should have been worried about the game.”
“It doesn’t matter who the Mastermind is,” his voice comes out harsh, but the edges are softened by exhaustion and frustration. “Who’s on the other side of the board is irrelevant if you flip the entire table."
5 notes · View notes
pebblegalaxy · 8 months ago
Text
Check and Mate: The Quest for Dominance in Life's Grand Game
Check and Mate: The Quest for Dominance in Life's Grand Game #LifeStrategy #ChessAndLife #PersonalGrowth #SuccessPhilosophy #BeyondTheGame
In the timeless game of chess, there comes a moment of reckoning when one player’s strategic brilliance outmatches the other’s, leading to the inevitable conclusion: check and mate. Yet, beyond the confines of the chessboard, this phrase extends far beyond a mere game. It serves as a metaphor for life’s relentless pursuit of dominance and victory, where every move is calculated, every decision…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes
rrotostap · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
#shuakeweek2024 | Day 5 | Royalty
Two kings, one game
448 notes · View notes
gynoidgearhead · 2 years ago
Text
[Image caption: Nate holding up a glass chess piece from episode adversary Tobey Earnshaw (Lauren Holly)'s chess board and dropping it into her hands at the end of Leverage S1:E11 "The Juror #6 Job", revealing that the crew had earlier broken into her headquarters. End caption.]
I suddenly woke up stupid early on my day off with multiple weird random aches and pains and a revelation about the Leverage chess metaphors.
They’re all wrong.
Look, I obviously adore the white knight/black king motif, and it works really well for that very specific discussion of Nate’s shift in morality and position at the opening of the series. But the show as well as I and other fans have then tried to take that equation and apply it to other jobs and to the crew as a whole. This is fun and awesome, but I believe you’re going to get it wrong every time if you start from the white knight/black king line. 
Because in all other situations, Nate is not the king.
Couple important things about kings in chess: 1. They don’t move much. They can only move one space at a time, and for most of the game they stay in their own little box, well guarded by other pieces. This is because 2. When the king is checkmated (threatened with capture and no possible escape), it’s game over. There is no more hope. This is the sole requirement for losing the game. No matter who else is in play, if the king is down, you lose.
This is NOT how Nate operates. Yeah, he makes the plans, but he doesn’t just hide in the office while everybody else carries them out. He’s almost always right up in there playing the most obnoxious guy you’ve ever met or smashing windows or something. And if Nate gets captured, it’s not game over, in fact, it often isn’t even a PROBLEM. Let’s look at a few times that happens, just for fun: - In The King George Job, Nate’s getting beat up and Eliot slightly panics and is about to run to help, when Sophie says “NOPE, don’t do that, I can fix this without blowing our cover” and saunters in at her leisure. The jig isn’t up and she’s not even particularly concerned about him getting punched. I love it. - In the Maltese Falcon Job, Nate sacrifices himself to save the team. This is a classic thing to do in chess and chess metaphors, but, I cannot stress this enough, you cannot sacrifice your king. That’s just called LOSING. -In The Long Goodbye Job of course the whole con is structured around Nate getting caught. I guess this one kind of makes sense because the whole point is to look like they HAVE completely lost, but then at the end it appears that Nate’s going to secret prison and everyone else is escaping WITH the black book, so they STILL would be losing Nate but winning the job. 
So if Nate isn’t the king, who is?
Hardison.
Let’s look at our points about kings again:
1. Doesn’t move as far or as quickly: Yes, Hardison ALSO gets out there and participates in the cons, everybody does. But Hardison does stay in the background more often, because that’s where his power is. He does the behind the scenes tech stuff and the remote stuff, he can wreck your shop without showing up through the power of the internet. He also does the forgeries of identities and objects, which are also done in his own space. At the same time, he has less physical power and less range – you don’t want him in a fistfight, or a gunfight, and his grifts are notorious for being a little… uh… interesting. So he has limited physical range and power but at the same time… .
2. The game is over if you lose him. That far-reaching behind the scenes power is absolutely vital for 90% of the jobs. He does the massive amounts of research and hacking legwork needed just to START a job, even before you get to actually completing the job. You are pretty much dead in the water without Hardison. But that’s just from a practical standpoint. Losing Hardison is also a crisis from an emotional standpoint. He’s our moral compass and our sweet baby brother and when Hardison gets in trouble there is no “well he’ll be fine for a few minutes” and no “well he kinda had it coming.” No, when Hardison is in trouble everything else grinds to a halt and everyone comes running. (See: The Experimental Job, The Grave Danger Job, The Long Goodbye Job.)
So like, yes Nate is in charge. But the king isn’t in charge on a chessboard, the king is just a piece with a very unique role, which Hardison fills much better than Nate does. So, now that we have our real king, who are our other pieces?
Queen: Parker. This has nothing to do with her dating Hardison. The thing about the queen is she can do a little bit of everything – she can move in any direction, making her the most dangerous piece on the board. Parker’s whole character arc is about learning all the different roles and how to access the whole playing field. She’s the only one who plans and executes an entire episode-length job by herself (okay, with a little help from her girlfriend). Plus, the other cool thing about a queen is she has a built-in transformation story – a pawn that crosses the board can become a queen, which Parker mimics by initially being dismissed as “the crazy one” and ultimately becoming the mastermind.
Knight: Sophie. I know, I wanted Eliot to be the horsie too, but this makes more sense. The knight’s deal is that it’s sneaky – it’s the only piece that can turn corners – and it can jump over obstacles. Sophie’s whole philosophy of grifting is that she shouldn’t need to know about safes or security systems, she should be able to bypass (jump over) all that by insinuating herself with the mark (being sneaky by playing a character to get behind enemy lines)
Rook: Eliot. This is the straightforward one – it goes in a straight line. It also literally represents the castle walls. It’s also so, so fucking helpful to have around, I fucking hate losing my rooks. It’s your solid right hand man, basically. Is this a little reductive of Eliot? Absolutely, but I’m jamming five complex characters into five predetermined boxes, it’s not all gonna be nuanced. And I think Mr. Punchy would like being seen as the fortress that everybody depends on, and to let all the nuance go under the radar. That’s where he likes it. 
Bishop: Finally, here’s where Nate is hiding. While the rook can only go straight (lol), the bishop can only go diagonally. Nothing can be straightforward for the bishop, he always has to come at things from an angle. Like, you know, constantly looking at all the different angles of a situation and finding the right angle to come at a mark from. Also, the bishops sit right in the middle right next to the king and queen. I don’t know that this is historically accurate, but when my dad taught me to play he told me that was because the bishops were important councilors to the rulers, they were the ones who had important wisdom that would tell them the best plan of attack. So the king here isn’t necessarily the one making the plans – that’s the bishop. And finally, apparently the bishop is called lots of different things in other languages, but we’re operating in English, which means it makes Nate a priest, and that makes me happy.
Tumblr media
5K notes · View notes
hija-ck · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
moves and counter-moves ♟️
843 notes · View notes
pepperfellover · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
A little Valentine's Day Comission 💌
for my beloved @scribbat of young Eraqus and Xehanort, back in their prime (before the horrors of being doomed by the narrative).
536 notes · View notes
cardasia · 1 year ago
Text
okay okay but the metaphor when christine simultaneously isn't moving fast enough for spock at chess and isn't moving fast enough for him in their relationship while jim is playing the game in his head from across the room
2K notes · View notes
camarilla-arts · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Thinking about Sandra Lynne and Sklonda friendship. Sandra had to catch the Kalina-plague from somewhere. 👀
245 notes · View notes
wotzka · 5 months ago
Text
So Bioware has already said that we can customize our Inquisitor in Dragon Age: The Veilguard, and a lot of people think this means they'll be an NPC, like Hawke in DA:I. I actually think there's a chance we can also play them.
Why do I think this? Because the playable character is called Rook, and there's this one chess play I keep thinking about:
Tumblr media
Only move in chess where two pieces move at once, huh? Interesting 🤔
179 notes · View notes
wulfhalls · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
everyone present understanding the cultural implications and letting it happen anyways
278 notes · View notes
starfinss · 1 year ago
Text
𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 — 𝘑𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘶𝘢𝘯
𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Honkai Star Rail
𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Jing Yuan + Reader
𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW 
𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 9,818
𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: And as you stood there, confused and fuming and utterly scarlet in the face, you decided to do something stupid. Like, really, cosmically stupid. But really, you couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment besides that terribly stupid thing.
Without saying anything, you crossed to his side of the desk, leaning to grab at the front of his clothing and yanking him up to meet your mouth in a kiss, effectively shutting him up and showing just how comfortable you were. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You had a headache.
You’d had it since you woke up that morning, persisting even after you downed a couple of painkillers, and even still after your first cup of strong tea. And finally, to your chagrin, it only grew worse as you walked to work. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was simple dumb luck. Things like this always seemed to happen to you right before you had something important to do. 
For the umpteenth time, you rubbed at your throbbing temples. On a normal day, you’d call in sick and spend the day at home, and the General wouldn’t mind. He was good like that. But today, you couldn’t afford to bail. Incidents like the Sanctus Medicus debacle came with a lot of red tape, even after all the heavy lifting and clashing of blades was finished. Incident reports, statements, casualty reports, and more bureaucratic nonsense that was of no help to the bereaved families of the fallen Cloud Knights. It was a web of all sorts of complicated, and if you weren’t careful, it was easy to get lost in the nearly endless amount of work to be done, especially as an advisor to the General of the Cloud Knights.
But you had an idea. It had come to you when you were combing through the incident reports; brought about by the footnote left by Jing Yuan regarding those very stragglers of the cult-like group. A solution to capture the remaining disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. Your notes on that were tucked away in the folder in your arms, all ready to be passed off to the General. 
Head still throbbing, you gave your identification to the guards at the door and pushed into the meeting room, taking your seat near the General’s chair. He had yet to arrive, but that was fine with you. It gave you time to review what you were going to say. You placed your folder on the table in front of you, scanning through the lines of text, typed up the night previous, and accompanied by your own notes in the margins. It wasn’t a complicated plan, not as much as you were making it out to be in your own head. It was simple enough, but you were confident it could work. 
The General trusted you. Your strategies had worked before, and you’d been instrumental in helping orchestrate successful battle formations, not to mention that you were responsible for the plan that had stopped a string of robberies in the Central Starskiff Haven, something you’d actually received an award for. You knew Jing Yuan would back you up to the other upper echelons of the Cloud Knights, as he had in the past. 
It wasn’t long before people began to file into the room, and low chatter began as the pain in your head settled behind your eyes, but gradually began to lessen. You thanked the Aeons for that. You also thanked the Aeons that Fu Xuan was the one who called the meeting to order, recounting facts you already knew from the incident report, so you didn’t actually have to follow what she was saying. Tea was passed out, and you took a slow sip of the liquid. It smelled distinctly herbal, and was undoubtedly picked by the General himself. He always had good taste in teas. 
“And that brings me to my next point,” Fu Xuan said, “what are we to do about the remaining members of the Sanctus Medicus who remain in hiding?”
You let yourself prepare what you were going to say, letting a few other people toss ideas around before you raised your hand. When you did, the Master Diviner’s gaze shifted to you, and she nodded, signaling you to speak. Jing Yuan shifted in his seat beside you, leaning on his closed fist, amber eyes expectant. All eyes were on you.
“Yes, what is it?” The Diviner asked. 
“I have a proposal,” you said, and Fu Xuan nodded meaningfully.
“Then let’s hear it.”
Gathering your thoughts, you rose to your feet with a sigh. 
“In the incident report, transcripts were recorded of the firsthand accounts given by the passengers of the Astral Express. Please, if you will, turn to page nine, where Mr Welt Yang’s statement is attached.”
A rustling of paper followed, and once it had quieted, you picked up where you left off. 
“If you see, written in line twelve, Mr Yang recounts an interaction with a captured member of the group. The defeat of Phantylia the Undying was more than likely enough to send the doubters away, but if Mr Yang’s statement is to be believed, even despite their defeat, some of these people still hold a strong degree of loyalty for the Abundance. Which makes them all the more dangerous.”
“I see,” Jing Yuan interjected, clearly interested, “you’re saying that what we have left are the fanatics. The ones most likely to cause problems, yes?”
You nodded. “Yes, correct. I propose we send an agent to infiltrate them. Gather information, cut them off at the root.”
“I’m afraid we tried that,” Qingzu said, “and while we did garner some important information, it was ultimately a failure. Dan Shu escaped, and things ended up escalating to the current level.”
“Yes,” you said, “I’m well aware of that. That was something I advised you on, Miss Qingzu. You approached me for help, if you recall.”
Qingzu folded her hands in her lap, sitting back in her chair. “I do. Your point being?”
“My point being,” you said, “I learned that I needed to reflect on what went wrong, and so I have. And, as it stands, the situation is more dire than it was before. These people have proven themselves to be dangerous, and it is paramount—”
“They were dangerous before,” Qingzu said, “and, it was paramount before. They have always been enemies of the Hunt. If we try to infiltrate again, don’t you think they’d be suspicious?”
“I thought of that,” you said, “which is why I propose we use an ex-member. We have a number of them on record, arrested after the incident, who express resentment towards the group. The Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus bear many strong resemblances to an insular cult, and it would be incredibly useful to have an agent who already knows the ins and outs of such an organization. We’ve done what we can with the information gathered from interrogation, but the fact remains that these fanatics are still out there. We need to utterly destroy whatever is left, and this is the most efficient way to do so.”
“Interesting,” Fu Xuan said, “but there is always the chance of betrayal. How do you account for that?”
You made a rueful face. “Can it not be argued that there is always a chance of betrayal? Though, you could always see the outcome for yourself, Master Diviner. Your divinations are never wrong.”
“What you suggest is reckless,” Qingzu said, “if this ex-member has any sort of loyalty at all left over, it puts us at risk.”
“I accounted for that,” you said, “I propose that—”
“It is simply too risky,” she said, “thank you for your input, though.”
Annoyance flared in your veins, and you tried hard not to let it show on your face. You knew Qingzu well enough to know that she wasn’t shutting you down out of malice, she was simply thinking about efficiency. But she hadn’t let you finish. 
“Wait,” you said, “I said, I accounted for that. If you’ll allow me—”
“Allow me to be clear,” Qingzu said, “you acknowledge the risks, yes?”
You paused. “Of course, but I said that I—”
“You acknowledge that if we take this gamble and it fails, it could put the Cloud Knights at risk, correct? If our infiltrator switches sides, we’ll be left wide open. They will have information about us, the acquisition of which might lead to even bigger problems. Do you acknowledge this?”
Discontent and anger peppered across your thoughts as you shifted where you stood, your words stuck in your throat. You glanced down to where Jing Yuan sat beside you, to take in the expectant, almost nonchalant expression on his face. His eyes met your own, briefly, meaningfully, before he fixed his gaze on Qingzu. 
“Well?” Qingzu said, “do you, or do you not?”
“Yes, I do,” you said, “and that is why we would send that agent in with one of our own. Say this agent is someone new, a recruit for the cause. It would minimize suspicion, and give us some wiggle room if things were to go south. We have one of our own keeping them in line.”
“I see,” Jung Yuan said, “please, elaborate. How would we orchestrate this? How would we pick the candidates for this operation?”
“General,” Qingzu said, “you know that this is—”
But he held up a hand, silencing her. “Let the woman speak. I can see you are interested in what she has to say as well, Lady Fu Xuan.”
“Correct,” Fu Xuan said, “the idea is intriguing, and could very well lead to the eradication of the Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. But Lady Qingzu’s worry is not unfounded. If the plan is found out, our agents would likely be killed, and we would be left with bereaved families and nothing to show for the loss. If you can assuage both her fears, and my own, then I believe that your strategy is plausible.”
Ah. And you’d been doing so well before. But the second Fu Xuan fixed you with that look, expecting something great, you could feel your confidence draining out through the soles of your shoes. She seemed to have that effect on everyone, though. Despite her small stature, she could be incredibly intimidating. Regardless, you took a deep breath. You could do this. 
“Well,” you said, “I believe that no strategy is without risks. Of course, we’d need to make sure these agents are well briefed and prepared for the operation, so there is little room left for error. We’d need to be careful in our selection process, and I propose that you assist in overseeing this portion of the plan, Master Diviner. That way, you can see for yourself who will be involved and how it will be done. Does that assuage your worry?”
That was a weak answer and you knew it, but you hadn’t accounted for Fu Xuan picking your idea apart like she was. So when her eyes narrowed, you knew she wasn’t satisfied.
“And how exactly will we prepare these operatives?”
You bit your lip. This was the kind of thing, the fine moving parts, that was what you thought about after presenting the actual idea. That did well enough for when you were working with Jing Yuan, and when you presented strategies to others like you were now, he’d often back you up, or at least say something to help you. You looked at him sidelong, and he looked back, as calm and collected as ever. A small, almost bemused smile tugged at his lips, a challenge in his eyes. 
“Do you have an answer for me?” Fu Xuan said, canting her head, expectant, “if you don’t, I am sure the General has something to add.”
“I do,” you said, “I have an answer.”
Fu Xuan shifted in her chair. From her expression, you were beginning to figure that your time was up. “Be that as it may, I’d like to hear what the General is thinking. If you’re really confident in your strategy, send me a draft of it and I will review it in full. Thank you.”
You sank down into your chair again, trying not  to let your embarrassment show on your face. Jing Yuan proposed an idea similar to yours, but involving sneakier tactics, such as tailing known members of the group and such. Fu Xuan seemed much more complimentary of that than she had of yours, clearly satisfied by the lower risk factor.
But you knew yours would work. It would get more answers, and it could spell the demise of what remained of the Disciples of the Sanctus Medicus. 
After the meeting drew itself to a close, you gathered your things, ready to go to the Seat of Divine Foresight to draft up the proposal Fu Xuan asked for. You just hoped she’d actually listen this time. It was as you were circling around the table to go to the door that you heard Jing Yuan call your name, prompting you to turn around, eyebrows raised.
“Walk with me back to the Seat, alright?”
You sighed inwardly. “Yes, General. I was already on my way there.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling, “then it works in both of our favors, doesn’t it?”
He held the door for you as you left the room, and you thanked him politely as he retook his place beside you. You had to walk quickly, the General was a tall man, and his stride was much longer than yours was. It always made you a little breathless, walking alongside him, but then again, most things did when it came to him.
“My idea could work,” you said, and you saw Jing Yuan smile again, thoughtfully.
“Yes,” he said, “it could. I’m confident it could. It was a well thought out plan, as your plans always are.”
You blinked, not expecting the praise, especially not after he’d stayed quiet during the meeting. 
“Huh?”
A soft laugh. “You weren’t finished talking when the Master Diviner cut you off, were you? Lady Fu Xuan is… an intense woman. But she is more open to the ideas of others than you’d expect her to be. She just prefers when a person speaks up about what they’re really thinking.”
You frowned. “So you’re saying you support my plan?”
Jing Yuan pushed open the doors to the Seat of Divine Foresight as you rounded upon them, and as you entered, he gestured for those inside to leave the room, which they did, leaving the two of you alone. 
“Of course I support your plan,” he said, “you know I’ve always respected your inputs, they’ve served me and the Luofu well in the past. But you lack conviction.”
You let his words settle as the two of you crossed the room, making your way to the desk, where you set down the folder you were still carrying.
“How do I lack conviction?” You asked, “I believe firmly in my own ability. I am good at what I do, and you know that, else you wouldn’t have picked me as your advisor. In all the time we’ve worked together, when have I ever lacked conviction in anything I’ve done?”
“That isn’t what I mean,” Jing Yuan said, “I mean in your own ideas. You clearly had more to say to the Master Diviner, but when she stopped you, that was the end of it. You clearly had it thought out, as demonstrated when Miss Qingzu brought up her concerns, but you didn’t fight for it.”
He had a point, but you weren’t about to admit that. You chewed your lip, eyes flicking to where the folder you’d just set down was laying. 
“What are you getting at?” You asked, finally, “that I need to be more confident? I know that. I didn’t account for… several things. I suppose I should have.”
Jing Yuan laughed; a lovely, low sound. “Lady Fu Xuan is something few people can really account for. She’s confident to nearly a fault in her abilities of divination, but even she cannot see every angle of a matter by herself. So she tends to pick apart things that would ordinarily require a bit of a gamble. Experience breeds caution, something that rings especially true with someone like the Master Diviner.”
You snorted. “A little warning would have been nice.”
Another laugh. “My apologies. But really, I was interested in seeing how you’d rise to the challenge. You had a good idea, as I knew you would, and I wanted to see you fight for it.”
Something uncomfortable twisted in your gut, and you turned away from him, studying a spot on the floor. 
“Well, I’m sorry for disappointing you.”
“Disappointing me? Nonsense. You merely need an extra push. Now, would you care for a game of chess?”
You turned back, looking at him quizzically. “Chess? General, I don’t think now is the time.”
He smiled playfully. “There’s always time for a game of chess. Now, I’ve received this exquisite set, a gift from the Nameless on the Astral Express. I was told it was bought in a city called Belobog. I’m very eager to break it in. As we play, we can discuss further.”
Exasperated, you pulled a chair up to the desk, sinking down into it as Jing Yuan set up the board. The set really was lovely, you noted. It was made of carved wood, the pieces and board both showing fine craftsmanship and detail. You turned over the rook in your hands, admiring the way the wood shone gently under the light. 
Jing Yuan chose white, as he usually did when the two of you played chess, and you chose black. He moved first, setting one of his pawns two spaces out from where it was originally, and you followed his example. 
“Chess is much like life, no?” 
You watched his hands, intent, as he moved his pawn forward once more. 
“In some instances,” you said, “strategy is certainly something the two have in common. Or the fact that both require you to think outside the box, especially when figuring out said strategies.”
A good-natured chuckle as you moved a second pawn further, freeing your knight. Jing Yuan moved his own pawn ever closer, but he hadn’t moved any of his more powerful pieces. You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was planning. 
“There’s that sharp intellect I know so well,” Jing Yuan said, “but you’re missing one thing.”
Leaning forward, you rested your elbow against the desk, propping your chin on your folded hand. 
“And what would that be?”
A smile, playful and knowing. His eyes sparked with mirth. “You know very well what I mean.”
It was your turn to smile, maybe playing a little dumb. “I assure you, I don’t.”
“Let me give you a hint, then,” the General said, eyes fixed on your hands, watching as you shifted your knight out and onto the board, towards his closest pawn, “purpose, focus, planning. All are vital for a successful gambit, am I right?”
You watched as he moved his pawn again. This was surely a trap, for the rook waiting beyond the pawn, poised to take your knight after the pawn was captured. But you doubted Jing Yuan would do something so obvious. You moved your knight away, clearing it from danger. You needed to back up the piece with another one. 
You supposed he was right. Purpose, focus, planning. But there was also sacrifice. Any good plan required gambles, and that rang true on the chessboard as well. You moved your pawn closer to Jing Yuan’s, near ready to capture the piece. Two could play at that game. You could make sacrifices, too.
“Yes,” you said, “but the Master Diviner doesn’t seem to understand it the same way we do. She doesn’t want to take risks.”
Amusement sparked in his golden eyes, electrifying as the air around you. You twisted your fingers around the top of your pawn, adjusting it more squarely into its spot. 
“She is a careful woman. She wants everything to be accounted for. You believe in this strategy, yes? That it could work?”
You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Naturally.”
“Then make her believe that. A firm belief in one's self commands a room. Make her see that you will handle whatever unexpected circumstances befall us.”
“Oh?” You said, heart thrumming in your chest, “me, alone? I’m just one person, General. Won’t you be helping me?”
His smile broadened, turning into a lazy grin, and when he spoke, he echoed your words from before. 
“Naturally.”
That stupid smile sent butterflies into your stomach, their wingbeats gale force strength as they battered against your lungs. It was always like this with him, something unspoken hanging in the air between you, undisturbed by years of friendship, but ever present. So you did what you always did when it reared its ugly head. You stepped aside to leave it ample room to fester. 
“I should be going,” you said, rising from your seat, “we’ll have to finish our game later. I need to finish writing the details I left out for the Master Diviner.”
“You will remain here.”
You blinked. He didn’t say it with any sort of authority, as if he was simply discussing the weather. But the firmness in his eyes told you that it wasn’t up for discussion. 
“Excuse me?” You said, voice much weaker than you’d have liked. 
“You heard me well. I have more to say, if that’s alright with you. Sit. It’s your turn.”
And so you sat.
“Really, it’s just the two of us,” Jing Yuan said, “we can speak with candor. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to discuss the details you did not get to share earlier. Leave nothing out.”
You narrowed your eyes, absently moving your pawn. “Fu Xuan is already backing your strategy, not mine. My conviction in my plan does not change, but if you were this confident in what I had already, why didn’t you speak up?”
“You know why,” Jing Yuan said, “I wanted you to fight for it. We’re only talking in circles, my dear. How will we guarantee the safety of our agents in this operation?”
Your answer was automatic, despite the rush the diminutive sent through your already electrified system.
“There is no definitive way to ensure that nothing goes wrong aside from preventative measures and ample training,” you said, voice as steady as you could keep it, “any way you slice it, it’s always going to be a bit of a gamble. What I’m suggesting is an infiltration. That kind of operation is unpredictable. You know that. In order to avoid problems, we have to be ready for anything.”
A smile. The rook took your pawn, but you expected that. Without blinking, you took the rook with your knight. Jing Yuan’s eyes flashed with excitement, a contagious grin spreading across his face.
“Excellent answer. But tell me, how will we be ready for anything if we don’t even know what that could be?”
You shrugged. “There’s no perfect way to be ready for absolutely everything. We’ll just have to try and account for what is most likely to happen if things go awry.”
“And the unlikely?”
You knew he was testing you, trying to get under your skin. You looked up at his face and away from the chessboard, the nonchalance in his expression utterly infuriating. You tried your best to remain just as nonplussed.
“I mentioned training, didn’t I?” You said, “we have to trust the operatives will know what to do in the unexpected.”
His smile broadened. “Excellent. See, if you were able to say to her what you just said to me, then we’d be getting somewhere.”
You twisted in your seat. “What makes you so sure of that?”
Another easy smile. “Am I wrong to trust the judgment of a trusted friend and advisor, especially when she’s yet to steer me wrong? I value your opinion. You know that.”
“I do,” you said, “and I value yours as well.”
“I’m hardly worthy of such an honor, I’m sure,” Jing Yuan replied, his smile growing, eyes warm.
For some reason, his words sent those aforementioned butterflies present in your stomach shooting through your bloodstream in an intoxicating rush. Shit. Those feelings were back, the complicated ones you tried to run away from earlier. The way he was smiling at you wasn’t helping in the slightest, and mortifyingly, you could feel your cheeks heating up. Why was that of all things flustering you like this? 
Aeons, you had to get out of there. You cleared your throat, expelling any improper or amorous thoughts about your superior from your mind as you straightened in your chair. 
“I really should be going, General,” you said, voice a little louder than you’d have liked, “if you’ll excuse me, I—”
“Is something the matter, _____?”
You blinked, staring at him.
You should have said something intelligent, or something to assuage his worries, but instead, all you managed was; “what?”
You cleared your throat for the second time, smoothing down the fabric of your uniform. 
“Let me rephrase,” you said, “what do you mean? What would make you think something was the matter?”
Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, almost lazily, eyes remaining fixed on you as he did so. 
“Well,” he said, “you keep trying to excuse yourself, to start. Additionally, your face is very red. Do you feel ill?”
You latched onto that. “I woke up with a headache this morning,” you said, “I’ve been all out of sorts since then, I’m afraid.”
A soft hum, then an understanding nod. “I see,” Jing Yuan said,  do you have any other symptoms?”
You shook your head. “Just a headache.”
That was a total lie, your headache had diminished to nothing more than an annoyance during the meeting, and had vanished altogether in the time you had been talking with Jing Yuan. But he didn’t have to know that. He didn’t have to know that situations like this always made you need to excuse yourself to rethink your entire working relationship with him, or that you often thought about how lovely he looked when he smiled. 
But then, he was leaning across the table, hand outstretched, and he was pressing his palm to your forehead, the skin cool against your own. It did nothing to calm your racing heart, nor the incandescent blush on your face. The butterflies in your stomach were doing an entire floor routine at this point. 
“You do not appear to have a fever,” he said, as he pulled back, “but your face is still very flushed. Are you too warm?”
You tugged at the high collar of your uniform, fingers absently catching on one of the buttons. 
“I suppose it is a little warm in here.”
Another lie. You were actually a little bit cold. Another thing he didn’t have to know. YOu had to change the subject, and fast. 
“Why is it that you value my input so much—”
“Are you embarrassed?”
The question came so suddenly it stunned you for a moment. 
“What would I be embarrassed about?” You finally managed.
“I value your opinion,” he said, “I believe that is what I said that set you out of sorts, yes? The fact that I value your input flusters you? Do you fear that that is all I value? I assure you, I not only treasure your ideas, but your presence as well. You need not feel uncomfortable here, I very much enjoy your company.”
This was not going the way you envisioned at all. You were a professional for Aeons’ sake. You straightened yourself, rising from your chair, just to put some distance between the two of you, just to catch your breath. What was he doing? It almost felt like…
“You’re teasing me,” you said finally.
You turned when he laughed, your expression a mix of emotions, but he was as cool and collected as ever. It almost made you want to slap him. Or kiss him, Aeons forbid. You shoved that thought to the deepest corner of your mind.
“I was concerned at first,” he said, “though I realized after I felt your forehead that you were not ill. I apologize for my behavior, but I’m afraid I just couldn’t help myself.”
You felt like you were going to burst into flames. “So— what you said, about— huh?”
Another laugh. “I meant every word of that. Come now, lying about such things would be unbecoming. Please, would you sit with me some more? I would very much like to finish our game.”
“No,” you said, “the game can wait. Do you not take me seriously?”
He looked briefly surprised before he answered.
“I take you very seriously, I assure you. I cannot see why you would think I wouldn’t. I apologize if I led you to think otherwise.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Then why tease me?”
“I admit,” he said, “I found your reactions to be… endearing. I did not mean to offend you.”
Your heart sputtered under the new load that had been put upon it like a backfiring starskiff. You’d only ever seen hints of this before, in offhanded compliments and veiled praises, but the General had never been so overt before. Hell, you’d always been certain you were imagining it. But that single revelation brought you to a realization. 
“You weren’t just teasing me,” you said, “you were flirting with me.”
The smile grew, and you could have sworn your heart was beating in your ears. He canted his head, regarding you with a playful gaze as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk in front of him.
“And what if I was?”
You coughed, trying to clear your head as confusing emotions swam laps in your bloodstream. Damn him, making you feel like this. Did he not even realize the impropriety of all of this? Did he just not care? How stupid and blind had you been not to realize this was happening? 
“If you were,” you said, carefully, “then what does that mean, exactly?”
“You’re a smart woman” he rebuffed, “you know what it means.” 
Your brain wasn’t catching up with what he was saying as quickly as you wanted it to, which infuriated you. He was staring at you, waiting for you to say anything at all, and you turned to face him when he said your name. 
Damn it. Damn him. Damn everything. The way he was looking at you, like you put the stars in the sky, it made you feel like every cell in your body was screaming. All these years of pining for someone you thought was so unattainable was an arms reach away all along, and that not only made you feel silly, it made you feel a certain degree of strange, misdirected anger.
And as you stood there, confused and fuming and utterly scarlet in the face, you decided to do something stupid. Like, really, cosmically stupid. But really, you couldn’t think of anything to do at that moment besides that terribly stupid thing. 
“Of course,” he said, mild panic in his voice, “if you’re uncomfortable with this, it will never be spoken of again—”
Without saying anything, you crossed to his side of the desk, leaning to grab at the front of his clothing and yanking him up to meet your mouth in a kiss, effectively shutting him up and showing just how comfortable you were. 
He made a sound of surprise when your mouths met, a sound that snapped you from whatever impulsive haze that had settled over your brain. You were about to yank yourself back and apologize until you were unable to do so anymore, but then his hands found your shoulders, holding you in place, and your own fell from his clothing to catch his cheeks in your palms.
He was much taller than you, something especially evident as he rose to his full height, forcing you to stand on your tip-toes, arms slinging around his neck. His own wound around your waist, as not to let you slip away, his body quickly pulled flush against your own. 
He tasted of herbal tea and almond cookies, warm against your mouth as he deepened the kiss. It was all-consuming and passionate, and you felt Jing Yuan pull back for a mere moment, just once, before diving back in, his teeth grazing your lower lip, sending sparks dancing down your spine. Your actions were rapidly growing frenzied, almost fierce, and you could feel yourself moving, your backside making contact with the desk behind you.
You knew this was moving fast, but you couldn’t even begin to care, not when you ran your hands through his hair, drawing a soft gasp from his lips, feather soft against your own, and especially not when his hands shifted to brace on the desk, effectively caging you in. Kissing him was intense , and almost completely overwhelming. The scent of him engulfed you; orange blossom and sandalwood, as well as something earthy and herbal and him.  
He was the first one to pull back, face tinged pink as he caught his breath, eyes hooded as he watched you through lashes the color of moonlight. Aeons, he was pretty. Too pretty for his own good. Your eyes fixed to his mouth, watching as his tongue darted out, running briefly over his unfairly full lower lip. 
“I see the matter of your comfort isn’t a concern.”
You could only shake your head.
He smiled, and you felt your heartbeat flutter in your chest. 
“If it’s all the same to you,” he said, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, “I’d like to do that again.”
You answered him by pulling him into another kiss. 
You could feel his hands on your waist, warm even through the fabric of your uniform. Gooseflesh raised on your skin as he paused, dangerously close to your hips, and your own hands laced into his hair, your fingers combing through thick, silver locks. The action drew a soft, low sound that made your blood sing with energy. It was embarrassing how quickly he got you like this, so pliable and willing, but as he nibbled at your lower lip, any thoughts of embarrassment were ejected from your mind.
His tongue slid along the seam of your lips, and you parted them, allowing him to press it against your own. Your fingers tangled into his hair, catching at the tie that held it back, and you flirted with the idea of undoing it before he was tugging you backward, away from the desk and onto the bench behind him, gathering you into his lap. The buzz of excitement took its place beneath your skin, and you shifted forward, bumping your hips against his. 
You could feel his hands trailing down your body, catching in the bend of your waist, and you wanted so badly to shift down, pressing your bodies flush together, just to see what he would do. Fuck, he’d pulled you into his lap, and the provocativity of such an action only put you more out of sorts than you already were.
Breathless, you broke the kiss, meeting his hooded gaze with your own as you rolled your hips down, and oh, the way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his grip grew tighter on your body, it sent any remaining rational thought you had right out the nearest window.  
You squeezed your thighs around his hips as you pressed yourself down again, and his jaw tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh through the fabric of your uniform. His gaze was dark as he regarded you, amber eyes sweeping across your body, seemingly hungry for what he was seeing. It thrilled you more than you thought it would. Overwhelmed, you dove forward to catch his mouth in another kiss, and he sighed into you, his lips moving languidly against your, almost indulgent as he pressed closer.
He pulled back suddenly, forehead against yours, breath heavy, and you tried to move to catch his mouth with yours again. He allowed you the impulse for a few frenzied seconds before he moved away, and for a horrible moment, you thought you’d done something wrong.
“Is this alright?” He asked, and the way his voice had deepened to a baritone rumble sent your head off into space, “you and I both know the direction this is taking us.”
You did. If you continued at this pace, you knew exactly what would happen. Anyone with common sense would know. This was something out of a dirty fantasy, something you’d shamefully thought of on lonely nights, something out of one of those silly erotic web novels you found yourself reading on boring days off. It was exciting and sexy, and you didn’t want it to stop. Here he was, the object of your pining, of your recently thought to be unrequited affections, asking what you wanted at that moment. Who were you to refuse?
“Yes,” you said, after you’d found your own voice, high and breathy in contrast to his, “I’m okay with this. I want this.”
A soft hum, and you felt your heart jump into your throat as his head dipped, mouth dragging along the bit of your throat left exposed by your uniform. You couldn’t help but gasp, almost embarrassed at your own sensitivity. 
“Aeons, you’re lovely,” he breathed, enraptured, “I am left in awe every day I see you.”
You felt your face warm, your voice lost as he peppered kisses along your jaw. His hands slid down your body to find your thighs, calloused palms pressing against the skin, left exposed by the shorts attached to your uniform. He used the grip to tug you closer, firmly pressing your pelvis against his, an action that caused both of you to gasp aloud. 
He held you in place as he rolled his hips, slow and easy, the friction making you gasp. He was already halfway hard, evident through his trousers, and the thought that you’d been the one to make him that way made intoxicating arousal flood into your bloodstream. 
His fingers caught the buttons at your collar, fumbling to push them through the buttonholes. Once that was done, you reached to the front of your waist to unfasten your belt, which was holding the top of your uniform in place. After it was loose, you slipped the garments from your body, discarding them to the floor.
You barely had time to think before Jing Yuan was exploring the newly exposed parts of you, his mouth latching onto the bend of your shoulder, the column of your throat, the underside of your chin. His hands, warm and calloused against your naked waist, made you shudder, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh as his tongue passed over your pulse point. 
You had trouble finding exactly where his armor ended and he began, but you eventually found the buckles necessary to unfasten the thick plating from his body. He helped you with this endeavor, eventually shedding his wrist guards and shirt, as well as the armor at his waist, leaving him bare chested beneath you. 
He was built powerfully, like the Aeons themselves had sculpted him by hand. Muscles rippled under the flat press of your palm, his perfect pale skin only marred by the threads of countless battle scars. Broad, strong shoulders and arms, a well-built chest, all tapering off into a trim waist. You ran your fingers down his body, feeling his muscles tense, quivering, breath catching as your thumb caught the jut of his hip bone, settling into the groove of muscle at his navel. 
His gaze was riveted to your hand as you explored his body, only dropping away when your mouth attached to his neck, teeth grazing his collarbone, making him sigh with shuddering breath. Your fingers mapped their way across his scars, and you absently wondered what the cause of each one was. You kissed the one closest to you, a thick, pale stripe of skin cutting across his left shoulder, ending just above his pectoral. You felt his nose press into your hair, and for a moment, you simply rested your cheek against his shoulder in a little bubble of intimacy that settled so perfectly into your comfort zone that you almost had trouble breaking away. 
“You’re beautiful,” you said, softly, and you heard him chuckle, the sound like a roll of thunder beneath your ear. 
“Oh, my darling,” he whispered, “that word is reserved for you.”
He drew you close and into another fierce kiss, stealing your breath from your lungs, and you could feel his hands on your back as he unfastened your bra, pushing the straps down your shoulders. You took the bra off the rest of the way, dropping it behind you as you rolled your hips against him, an action that caused him to grip at your body, and oh , you could feel him, hardness pressing neatly against your clothed cunt. Teeth clicked together as he rocked his hips, holding you against him, the friction drawing a soft, breathy moan. 
His palm slid along your body, cupping your breast, and when his thumb swiped over your nipple, you let out an embarrassingly loud gasp, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he squeezed the nipple between two fingers. You were so unexpectedly sensitive, just from this alone, a fact that would have embarrassed you if your head wasn’t so full of clouds and fluff and other emptiness, drunk on his touch.
His mouth found your pulse point again, tracing down to your collarbone, then to the valley of your breasts, and your back bowed as his hand smoothed along your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, breath and body shuddering as his lips passed over a nipple. His breath was hot as it misted over your skin, and when his lips finally caught a nipple between them, you let your head fall back, gasping and breathless. 
Jing Yuan’s tongue passed over the sensitive flesh, rolling your nipple beneath it, and he caught your opposite breast in his free hand, gently squeezing, making you whine, soft and low. The pleasure of it all felt like fire beneath your skin, burning you from the inside out, but not one part of you cared, not when he was touching you like that. 
You pushed yourself against him harder, because feeling him through clothing was rapidly becoming not nearly enough, a sentiment he clearly shared from the way you felt him groan against your skin.
“Can I touch you?” He rasped, and you nodded quickly, shifting to unfasten the tie holding your shorts closed, briefly standing to slip them off, as well as your panties, before you were moving back into his lap, completely bare. 
“You’re incredible,” he rumbled, “a goddess. I hope you know that. I am a very lucky man.”
His hand pressed against your hip, making your shift back, and your face flushed in embarrassment as he took in your naked form, gaze famished and punch drunk in love as it roved over you. 
“I want to touch you, too,” you said, and he simply smiled.
“I’m yours to do with as you please.”
His hand slipped from your hip to your thigh, and you shifted your hips back, allowing him room to maneuver as he pressed a broad palm to the apex of your thighs, causing you to gasp, hips unconsciously pressing down. His middle finger ran along the length of your entrance, aided by the soak of your arousal, slow as he pleased, leaving your head full of fog. You pressed your hips down against his hand, lip catching between your teeth as he picked up his pace, free hand gripping your hip to still you as one finger slowly sunk inside of you.
He began to move at an agonizingly slow pace, and you moaned lowly as his finger curled inside of you, hitting a spot that made stars burst across your vision. He touched you in a way that stole your breath from your lungs, and when he added another finger, his name slipped from your lips, soft and pleading.
You reached forward to fumble with the front of his trousers, managing to unsnap and unzip them after a few seconds. He hissed between his teeth as you pushed his underwear down, pulling him free, and shit, you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. Jing Yuan wasn’t a small man, so you supposed this shouldn’t have come as a shock, but he was big. He was thick, and long enough to make you nervous, and when you reached forward and wrapped your hand around him, your fingers barely even met.  
His breath hitched sharply when you touched him, and you felt him twitch against your palm, throbbing. When his fingers curled inside of you, you squeezed him, making him cry out. You touched him in slow, even strokes as your hips ground down on his hand, and when his thumb found your clit, you picked up the pace. 
His head fell against the back of the bench as you squeezed his tip, circling your thumb around him, making him groan, low and long, hips bucking into your touch. He was leaking precum, and you used it to aid in your motions, smearing it around the head of his dick, making his own motions falter for a moment.
You wanted him so badly at that moment, as you watched his pretty face twist with pleasure, with need. You could feel your climax building, winding tighter under your skin, driving a high, breathless wine from between your gritted teeth as you ground your hips down harder. When he sped up his pace to aid you, your hips jumped, heartbeat pounding in your ears, and you were grinding down on his hand like a bitch in heat. 
You really weren’t going to last, not when he knew exactly where to touch you, fingers practiced and sure, and fuck, you felt like you were melting into him, fingers slipping from his cock to grip at his shoulders, your ability to focus rapidly draining away. 
Your head dropped back in pleasure as he worked you even closer to your high, allowing him room to latch his mouth onto your throat, surely leaving marks as his teeth dragged against your skin, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even begin to care about that, not as your thoughts and senses devolved into complete delirium. 
With a final press of his thumb, you tumbled over the edge with a broken cry, nails digging into Jing Yuan’s skin as you came. He worked you through it with whispered filth and an unfaltering pace, making you sob with rapture, squirming helplessly as he worked you into overstimulation, dangerously close to a second climax before he pulled away.
You collapsed, boneless and panting against his chest, and he drew you close, mouth hot as it molded to yours, and as you shifted forward, you could feel him, pressed against your bare stomach. 
The friction made him groan, hands on your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin, but you needed more, and you knew he wouldn’t protest giving you just that. 
“How do you want me?” Jing Yuan rasped, “do you want to be on top? It may be more comfortable for you to adjust that way. I’m afraid I don’t have protection, though. That does not tend to be something I keep here in my office.”
“I’m on birth control,” you said, “it will be okay.”
After a moment of consideration, you shifted forward to press yourself against him, an action that earned a breathless groan. He felt hot against you, almost searing, and as you slowly rolled your hips, you felt his grip grow tighter, almost impatient. A spike of arousal shot through you as his jaw tightened, his restraint clearly being tested by your teasing. 
Slowly, you began to sink down. You were met with some resistance, even just the tip was a stretch, and you had to pause for a moment, just to catch your breath, which was escaping your lips in quick bursts. 
“Relax,” he urged, voice low; tone taught and fraying, “breathe. You can take it.”
A quick nod as you tried to do as he said, resting your forehead against his shoulder. You pushed down further, drawing a hushed groan, his hands slipping from your hips to your waist, gently urging you downwards. It took another few moments of adjusting before you were able to take all of him, and you sat there for a few moments, breathless and stuffed completely full. 
His head lolled back against the bench, expression stricken and lips parted, and you pulled him into a kiss, which he returned with vigor. You stayed still as you adjusted to the size, something that clearly wasn’t helping with keeping his restraint in place, evident from the way he was gripping your body, tight enough to bruise. 
Just to test the waters, you shifted forward in a slow, easy grind, and he groaned, long and low and aching. You whined into his mouth, toes curling as you rolled your hips again, just to hear that wonderful sound again. 
His hands drifted back to your hips, squeezing as you moved again, this time lifting yourself halfway up, only to take him again, and he was surely leaving bruises, absolutely holding back, especially as you thrust back down again.
“Tight,” he whispered, “it’s— fuck— it’s so tight.”
That did it for you. You put your hands on his shoulders as you picked up the pace, forcing the breath from your own lungs, rendering him speechless as he watched you, eyes fixed to where the two of you were connected, watching his thick cock disappear inside of you. 
The stretch of him made you feel like your mind had emptied itself out, and you let out a thin, breathy moan as his hips bucked up, stuffing you full as your nails dug into his shoulders. You yanked him into a messy kiss, hands lacing into his hair, and he growled against your mouth, a sound that sent shockwaves down your spine. 
Another tug at his hair, and you were moving, your back suddenly against the desk, chess pieces scattering around you as he rucked your legs up, pulling them against his hips as he pressed close. You cried out, the new angle making the tip of his cock rub just right against spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. 
You lifted your hips from the desk to meet him, propping yourself up on bent elbows as he leaned over you to join your lips to his. The pace he set was slow, but the strong impact of each thrust made it impossible for you to think , or to even speak as his hands slid along your thighs to the bend of your knees, holding you in place for him as he fucked you. 
The kiss was broken, and he rested his forehead against yours, just for a spell, before he was drawing back a little, hips pressing forward, and one of his hands was moving between your bodies, clit under his thumb, forcing you to tighten around him, forcing broken gasps from both of you. 
“Deeper,” you found yourself blurting, and he chuckled darkly against your skin.
“If that’s what pleases you.”
Your head fell back in bliss as he changed the angle, the speed picking up as well, and you could do nothing else but gasp his name, sprawling back over the desk as he reduced you to a mess, beginning to wind tighter once more, thighs trembling in his grip.
You were still sensitive from your last climax, something he was undoubtedly aware of as he touched you in all the right places, as his mouth found your breast, tongue passing over your nipple and making your back arch into his touch. It was too much, but also not nearly enough, something that was as oxymoronic as it was maddening. 
Your hands scrambled across the smooth surface of the desk before finally curling around the edge, nails digging into the wood, and you watched Jing Yuan above you with hazy eyes; watched the way his face twisted and pinched in bliss. He was thick and heavy and hot inside of you, and you were not going to last, not like this, not when he was whispering filth and praises and fucking you so deep that you could barely tell where he started and you ended. 
The pressure of his thumb on your clit picked up, and you squirmed in his hold, the back of your head knocking against the surface of the desk underneath it, your eyes squeezing closed, the delirious, desperate feeling that comes before a climax bleeding into your system, threading its way through you, leaving you utterly helpless to its pull. 
You were barely aware of what you were even saying, but you knew his name was on your lips, and you were so close that you could hardly take it, but he wasn’t slowing down, not even as you bucked and squirmed and shook under his touch. 
The edge came quicker than you’d have pleased, and your back bowed up as you came undone, trying and failing to stray quiet as your high washed over you with tidal wave force. You were throbbing around him, squeezing him tight, and you could hear him growling in pleasure, feel him twitch inside of you, only driving you higher as your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, lips parted, cheeks flushed pink. 
But he wasn’t letting up, not even as you squirmed with overstimulation, clamping a hand over your mouth to try and quiet yourself, barely able to handle the continued stimulation. The stretch of him inside of you and the feel of his thumb on your clit was making you feel like you were losing yourself, and if he knew that, he was only encouraging it. 
You wanted him to cum, to feel him lose himself too, to see it on his face as he spilled himself inside of you, just as drunk on bliss as you were. You locked your ankles together behind his body, pushing him deeper, and you got the privilege of listening to him groan.
Your second climax knocked the wind out of you, and it was only then that he was pulling his hand away, fucking you through the aftershocks of the climax, but the base of his cock was rubbing against your oversensitive clit, prolonging your high, and building you towards another one. 
His hand found your hip, holding you down as his pace picked up to something almost punishing as he chased his own climax, and you found yourself scrambling forward to grab onto him, kissing him hard and deep, hips moving with his and making him moan into your mouth, grip tightening on your body as he pushed you back onto your back, one hand flattening on your lower stomach to hold you down as he thrust all the way in, staying close as he rolled his hips in slow, deep rocks that made you feel like you were burning alive, but you could do no more than lay there and take it as he worked you into another dizzying climax.
It hit you with a force that made you scream, forcing you to clamp a hand over your mouth, the tears that had caught in your lashes leaking down your cheeks, and his thrusts were growing uneven, breath unsteady. You felt him shudder, hips twitching, sending jolts of almost painful pleasure through your spent body, making you whine. 
With a low, unrestrained moan, he was thrusting deep as he could go, and you could feel him trembling , grip iron tight on your body as he spilled inside of you, and you pulled him down into a fierce kiss, bucking your hips to work him through his climax. He moaned against your mouth, gasping your name when you deliberately squeezed around him, breaking the kiss to sink his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his unrestrained cries.
You felt him begin to soften inside of you, though he remained close, arms wrapped around your body as you gasped for breath. It was with almost palpable reluctance that he pulled out, and after gathering you into his arms, he was falling back to sit on the bench behind him, chest heaving, eyes closed.
A few moments passed of just laying together before he was moving for a drawer in his desk, and you realized he was reaching for a package of tissues, which he used to wipe your thighs clean, depositing the tissue in the trash can tucked beneath the desk. You grabbed your panties from the floor, tugging them back on before settling beside him once again.
“I didn’t picture that happening for the first time here,” he said, after a few moments of comfortable silence, “though I can’t say I’m complaining.”
Despite everything, you felt your cheeks warm. It was definitely comical that you were blushing at that of all things after he’d just fucked your brains out, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped.
“Where did you picture it?” You asked, settling closer to him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around your body.
“Preferably my bedroom,” he said, “or yours. I wanted to at least take you out first. Call me old fashioned, but I’m quite fond of the act of courtship.”
You smiled. “We can still do that.”
A chuckle. “Yes. You’re quite right.”
For as long as possible (and until you started to get cold), the two of you sat curled up together on the bench before Jing Yuan suggested getting dressed, which didn’t sound like a bad idea. But it wasn’t until you tried to stand that you realized that might be a problem. 
“This is your fault,” you said, as he helped you put your shorts back on, and he smiled, as calm as ever.
“And I’d do it again.”
That, you weren’t ashamed to say, made you blush. From the smirk on his face, that was exactly his intention. You shot him a glare, but it was short lived when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, offering you a hand to help you up.
Your legs were still wobbly, but with his support, you were able to stand. 
“Well, love,” he said, “since we’re doing things in reverse order, how about lunch? We can take the rest of the day off, go back to my home?”
You leaned closer to him, lacing your fingers tight with his. “I’d like that.”
He kissed you, slow and gentle, before he led you from the Seat of Divine Foresight, leaving the mess of forgotten chess pieces scattered across the floor, chatting happily about what restaurants he thought you’d like. 
You never did finish that game.
Though, of course, there would be others in the future. 
583 notes · View notes
purgatorygrl · 5 months ago
Text
There is a scene where Arthur goes to the camp after Guarma and finds Dutch talking to himself commenting on a chess move and I find it curious how the chess move that Dutch is commenting on is a famous chess move where pawns are sacrificed in order to win.
142 notes · View notes