#tales of arise thoughts

[windor-truffle]

boy do I love brownish-magenta-haired blue-eyed pure-of-heart dumb-of-ass teenage boys voiced by Bryce Papenbrook who ran away from home after a falling out with their fathers only for said father to die before they could fully reconcile leaving them with grief and trauma yet somehow they remain generally upbeat

[angels444yuri]

i feel like an english lit major every time i make what i believe to be an astute observation about a character

[whispeyrains]

Seeing the new Tales of Arise DLC and I'm like, contemplating how far that series has fallen. Sure there's still people who love it, but the super og old tales fans I follow on Twitter have more or less lost a lot of love for Tales since it got a new director. It's like he took out and completely misunderstood what made Tales games what they are I guess? Too actioney and trying to be like the other popular jrpgs instead of sticking to series staples and themes. (The skits! I missed those) I felt that too when I initially saw arise when it first came out, at least. (I own all the Tales games ps3 ports, have played through one of its older mobile games, rip Tales of link, and was a fan of it in high school) just kinda sucks man. Even following Tales of festival news every year doesn't give me the same excitement it used to. Also thinking back on how ridiculous bamco was for launching and failing 4 mobile Tales games here in the west. Like what the fuck was that. Why did they keep trying to make it work over here lmao

[grandgobbobarb]

Like seriously I'm 90% every "get your hate out of tales of arise tag" comment I've seen hit me or my bestie is the same weirdo who not only doesn't understand that he can use the block button to permanently not see things that he doesn't like, but also is such a loser he has to make multiple accounts to yell at a couple of lesbians who were legitimately looking forward to the game in 2021, only to have it be something soooo bad.

And, like, it really just needs to respect its women as characters with agency and not as complicated accessories to its men and it would be, like, a middle of the road tales game. It would still be bloated, with too many meaningless skits and a tendency to use 30 words when they need 10, but that's a common issue with the series. Even Symphonia, one of the greatest entries, drags with serious need of an editor in the back half.

And you can even have straight characters pair off without reducing the women to objects. Tales of Graces F did that in its ending arc. I didn't like it (I actually prefer when games leave shippers wiggle-room, see Vesperia, my absolute fav), but I wouldn't call it particularly misogynistic. Cheria, Pascal, Sophie... they all remain full characters. With agency. It's a good thing.

But since that one person keeps making new accounts to yell at me instead of just getting blocked or blocking, let's talk about what I like about the Arise gals, and how their potential gets gutted by the game's inability to view them as women and not people.

Fair note that I stopped playing after Almeidrea because it was too much of a waste of my time. Past that any knowledge comes from watching my best friend stream. And she's still not through the game.

So. Here goes.

Shionne. The thorns. That's so fucking good. I love them. Themes of enforces isolation vs the yearning for acceptance are my jam. I love that she's an ostracized element of the ruling class. That's fun. Heck, I her design. And gun. When I tried to stomach through a second time she was my main. Love gun.

But. Immediately the game centers her as Alphen's divinely delivered reward for being the propaganda. She literally falls from heaven into his life, the one person who can touch her without pain. Her trauma? Her fears? Her anxieties and defense mechanisms? Oh just have Alphen yell at her. It's fine. It's like Jade slapping Natalia in Abyss x1000 and without the flimsy act 3 stress aspect. Alphen is Man. Woman Obey Man. And in providing men this projectable fantasy of paternalistic domination, the game tosses aside the conflicts that could make Shionne interesting.

Heck, if the game weren't so obsessed with making Alphen the True Hero Protag they could have been such a great pairing. The pieces are there in alphen's backstop, the thorns, the time to build up closeness before yanking away alphen's Immunity. But for all the words they invest into this, they don't let the relationship grow or develop a comfortable status quo for Shionne. It's all for Alphen's benefit. Which makes her kidnapping fall flat. Her thorns affecting Alphen on rescue mean nothing beyond revealing that he might be into that actually (based tbf). Still. All Shionne's potential is wasted as an accessory to Alphen. And its not even horny enough about it to be filling a woman's fetish.

Rinwell. I love this girl as a character. She's such a hater. And her arc as it should be is obvious from step one: she hates. She realizes her hate is bad. She gets over herself. That's a good arc. A classic. Add to this the paranoia of living in a surveillance society, the secrecy of magic, and the beautiful owl motifs and you have one of the characters of all time.

Then Law happens. At first, not terrible. Like I hate Law, but until a point my Law hate is just normal "this character is not for me" shit. Not worth mentioning. He's a cop. He reminds me of the dude who tried to best me up in middle school. Normal irrelevant shit.

But then. Almeidrea.

You have the great stand-off. Rinwell filled with rage. The woman who killed her family right there. She's apparently helpless. Rinwell fires off her magic with intent to kill.

Or others. My friends and I have outlined so many good ways that scene could have gone. The commonality being that they focus on Rinwell, her rage, and her actions and their consequences.

What did the game pick? Law took the blow no problem and delivered a lecture to permanently fix Rinwell's heart. Because her magic was never powerful enough to threaten Almeidrea (could have been fine. Hate is not power, etc), and her emotions are shallow and easily fixed by a guy. Tada. Don't worry ladies just find yourself a man who will lecture you when you're pretty little emotions get too much! You don't need to learn the limits of rage or that revenge is hollow. Those are manly lessons for men. Just learn how to obey your assigned boy. Tee hee.

That was bad enough to stop playing. You can't write that as a climax to a character arc and tell me you see women as people.

Kisara. Honestly the least egregious, but my friends do tease me for thinking Dohalim is cute so it might just be me being blind. Still.

Good: she's the loyal knight. Who doesn't love that? Her loyalty is built on quicksand. FUN. That ass don't quit. Because to be clear I am lesbian and being horny about someone is not the same as sexualizing as an object.

The bad? Honestly mostly that her arc finishes in one chapter and then she's just Dohalim's loyal knight. On its own I wouldn't think much about it because that's her core character.

But.

After reducing Shionne's ball of anxiety, class-consciousness, and hedgehogs dilemma to "a girl who needs her string masochist daddy to hold her and yell at her when she's stressed"

After reducing Rinwell's rage and terror and vengeance to "a girl who just needs a stern talking to from her boyfriend about racism"

Kisara being Dohalim's guard is just. Yeah. I see. She's his accessory.

Arise doesn't let itself have women characters. It has accessories to men. And that keeps it from being good.

Now feel free to make a new account and yell at me again if you want another post because I could probably find one. But I hope you'll learn to block me like a normal person because this game doesn't deserve this attention.

Go play Vesperia instead. It's a character driven mess (positive)

[nintendo-switch-2]

just thought of this but. i like to think since the merging of dahna and rena like. restores the climate to a decently 'normal' state. then reasonably, seasons would come back after a while right? I'm assuming those weren't a thing w the five realms since how their climates are so heavily influenced by whatever type of astral energy they were associated wwith (except cyslodia ig. that's got snow bc it's in the mountains) but like. that DOES get slowly reversed post-game. idk I think it'd be neat. honestly i just wanna see what menancia looks like in autumn

[the-au-collector]

Ok so we’re just starting right away with the aliens then

[moonlight-at-dawn]

Shionne HATES bugs, right?

But she's like, a living bug zapper, right?

How HORRIFIED must she have been the first time a bug landed on her and didn't instantly die for its transgression???

[burdenedbridges]

i thought i already permanently escaped from the grasp of the tale of franchise but i couldn't. i came back crawling desperately 10 years later while clenching my fists and gritting my teeth out of sheer fucking guilt.

images of yuri, lloyd, luke, and jude came flashing into my mind and i just wanted to know what was going on in the series already... what games have they developed that will drag me deeper into this hell hole. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVE MULTIPLE MOBILE GAMES AND SIDE GAMES ALREADY?

[justblades]

❝ THE GENERALS' COCKSLEEVE ! ❞

ᝰ. JIYAN x afab! reader x GESHU LIN

๋ᝰ. IN WHICH geshu lin tries to heal your hurt heart as you thought it was a one sided love with jiyan

ᝰ. SMUT, 18+ ONLY. double vaginal penetration, threesome, possessive! geshu lin, WC: 4.2k

a confidential expedition was sought in order to study the occurrences in the battle beneath the crescent. as there was no concrete evidence that recounts the whole of what transpired way back then, it was then decided the magistrate to take precautionary steps to delve deeper into the event.

as soon as the decision has been made, jiyan reaches out for you to talk in private. a secluded room freed from disturbances and lurking ears, a solemn look dances in his golden gaze. "the magistrate ordered for us to study the geographic location when the first retroact rain befell." he states as he shuffles the letter back to the envelope that he received from jinhsi.

a wax seal of ivory color engrained with the sentinel jué's design adorns the surface, jiyan's fingers trail the edges. you purse your lips tightly, reluctance slightly rising from your façade of composure. a tale as old as time, the jinzhou residents knew very well the story of the battle of the crescent.

what dawns in your perturbed mind was the former general behind it, the one deemed as the hero, the savior of all eventually leads the lives of the many to meaningless sacrifices. just the mere stories of those who witnessed general geshu's might would suffice to reinforce the thought on anyone that he was strong, mighty, that those onyx flames of his seared and tore through his countless enemies.

you're just as curious as the person next door. being jiyan's one of the few trusted rangers, you nodded, giving consent to the mission. the two of you will then embark on the journey once the sun rays peek through the bed of stars and the darkness.

it will pass . . . and so, the daybreak arises.

coming vis-à-vis with the general upon the agreed time to meet, the two of you swiftly weave through the vast forest, eliminating any possible tacet discord that might hinder your exploration progress with swift and haste. "we're nearing the norfall barrens now, be careful." jiyan reminds you as he treads forward, the broadblade hoisted at hand to prepare for any case of danger to come.

"yes, general." you reply as you manage to scan your surroundings carefully. as the ground beneath your feet starts to feel different the farther you walked and the olden structures welcome your vision with a faint light, the general looks back at you to confirm his observation. nodding in agreement, a sharp, gelid wind blows within, jiyan's teal locks ripple along the muted breeze.

"the magistrate ordered for us to not stay here for too long, as there's a possibility we might encounter larger waves of tacet discords." he pauses for a short while. "however, if we do not split up and make haste, we might lose the frequencies left behind the battle that might lead to  potential clues. given that we're both resonators, we're capable of diluting the echoes residing within the field."

he stops in his tracks, explaining the pros and cons of the decision to take. naturally, he's gearing towards the advice of jinhsi, as it is true that staying longer in this place will expose the two of you in greater danger. but a part of him doesn't want to split up from you, worrying he'll lose a trustworthy, competent figure in the midst of this expedition.

having known the general for quite some time, you've come to understand patches of his personality as if it were the back of your hand. you'd notice in the slightest change of his facial expressions, even more so in his tone lacing his words. no matter how miniscule the shift is, you'll always be able to know. "fret not, general. i assume you know me well as i know you." you simply state, flashing a small reassuring smile to subside the doubt gnawing at his bones.

jiyan nods slightly in exchange. "understood. i'll contact you via your terminal once i'm finished with exploring the half of the land and you'll do the same with yours. if you come into trouble, just ring me up, i'll come to your aid quickly." you reach for the gourd behind you, double checking if its functions are working in pristine condition.

after enough preparation, the two of you then separated ways with no goal other than to stay alive, rush to the aid of your companion in any hint of trouble and lastly, to pick up clues that draw back to the event. you make your way to the west of the norfall barrens, focusing on your senses to ensure that the exploration would go smoothly.

darkness envelops the whole land, dark embers of faded crimson continually drift from one place to another. among the lingering eerie noises resonating in the field, a distinct voice surfaces - "so it is you."

goosebumps ride on your skin as you prepare into stance and hoist your weapon, eyebrows furrowed as sobriety exudes from your body. when all of a sudden, a towering presence appears behind your back, and as you take a swift turn to face your supposedly opponent and strike them down in a single swing, black and indigo violet flames set the barren lands ablaze, kindling with the littlest movements from the broadblade the person does.

you take a step back, a suffocating heat engulfs everything, the oxygen left in your lungs thinning. struggling to catch your breath, you ball your fists and cough repetitively - the scale of this power is far too destructive.

"still holding out? impressive. no wonder he picked you."

once you finally manage to stabilize your breathing, you enhance your physical body with your forte, bracing impact once the person finally engages with you head on. within a blink of an eye, strands of long, grayish white hair comes to sight, and a pair of honey golden eyes lock gazes with yours.

he closes in with immense speed as the two of you exchange blows left and right. the male grits his teeth as the corner of his lips twitch upwards, "commend yourself for being able to withstand a fraction of my flames."

a gut feeling kicks in, that the danger you were watching out for - was finally settling. you instantly reach for the gourd as an attempt to reach jiyan on the other end, but no avail, the mysterious figure was faster than you. he approaches from above, swinging once more, clashing with your sword as his broadblade defeats yours. he successfully unarms you and manages to immobilize you with makeshift of bindings to keep you still. your back crashes flat on the dry land, a sharp pang of pain striking on your torso.

met with utter loss, he draws closer to you. he reaches his bandaged hand to your face, "could it be . . ." and your consciousness gradually fades away. "general geshu lin?"

rousing from a shortlived slumber, you jolt awake as your eyes peel open, your movements feel minimized. you examine the surroundings, and then yourself - a special restraint encages the both of your wrists together, seemingly one that is made of advanced technology especially catered to confine resonators. you knew from one look that it'd be useless to try and break free and you no longer bothered trying. instead, you opted for any possible methods to escape.

"general jiyan would not be able to come to your aid today, unfortunately." there it was again, the hoarse voice that resounds to your ears like a nightmare fuel. you flinch as you see him within your line of vision once more, confusion washes over yourself, at a loss for words in response to what he said.

"general, why?" was all you could verbalize amidst the worry pulling back your tongue. you bite your lip and could not help but think about jiyan, who put faith in your capabilities only for you to end up like this. "you're asking the wrong question." he says and kneels lower to your level, driving you to a corner as birch walls meet your back.

it was a small cabin from no one knows where that he resided in, necessary supplies and equipment arranged in a chronological manner displayed on the shelves. a dim light illuminated the vicinity, it flickers in opposition to geshu's strong gaze. "i know you have an unrequited love for the general - but you know as much as any midnight ranger that love is not a priority in jiyan's life."

his words struck like sharp lightning aiming to your heart, crushing it whole into smithereens of pain as your world flips upside down. questions come whirring in your mind, such as: why does he know? how does he know? what benefit does this fact bring to him?

unfortunately, his claim was true. being by the general's side for several years, you've seen him be vulnerable, reliable, and resolute regarding whatever trouble may come in his way. his bravery to withstand the lurking unknown sparked your faded flame inside your heart. jiyan became the beacon of light in your muddled world, as the two of you brave through the obstacles with joint forces, in every long night.

the sorrow he faced that you shared with him - it was halved. the joys he witnessed that you shared with him - it was doubled.

"come, be my companion instead. let us eliminate together the darkness at bay." geshu proposes and inches closer to you, his masculine features coming into full view. this time, you could see him better this time, only now noticing details you haven't before. a small mark adorns his face under his left eye and a diagonal scar carves his sultry lips.

he looks at you solemnly, you could feel the proximity between the two of you increase, until he finally presses his lips onto yours gently. shock courses in your veins - the general's tongue makes way inside your mouth, lapping your taste as it twirls with yours, performing a tantalizing rhythm to which mewls were elicited from the drowning pleasure.

you try to retort in opposition to his actions, but your protest was silenced as his right arm snakes its way up to your torso, tearing the fabric of your clothing with little effort. he nestles your nipple within the warm palm of his hand, his calloused fingertips fiddle on the very hard bud.

after making a concoction of your salivas mixed together, geshu breaks the kiss, leaving a trail that connects your lips to his.  "i-i can't abandon general jiyan from a petty reason. i did not uphold my duty all this time just so my feelings were to be reciprocated."

his aureate irises fixate on your features, "and you're loyal too. sorry, but i won't be as gentle as jiyan is to you." geshu crashes his lips on yours once more, this time, a burning carnal desire exudes from his aura, hands now exploring your body, removing the remaining worn out clothing as your tits spring free, nipples erect as glacial winds caress your skin. "so? have you two engaged in such an encounter before?" he manages to query in between heated kisses.

a muffled "no" reverberates and geshu immediately understands. a smirk creeps up to his face and pulls away, an idea slipping into his mind as he now buries his face in the crook of your neck. he asserts dominance as the general flicks his tongue all over the shell of your ear, proceeding to give the whole part slow, sloppy licks, as well as biting on the lobe to determine which you'd like more.

as if you were melting, you felt like putty in his touches as he continues to toy with your breasts. he savors your skin down to the sweet spot on your neck, putting pressure once he sucks on the part, leaving lust filled bruises. taking turns from licking, biting, and sucking, he finally gets his fill as his erection grows bigger and harder to restrain within.

a thought crosses your mind as his bulge brushes on your clothed region, maybe it isn't that bad, accepting general geshu lin's proposal, that is.

geshu shifts positions, he lays on his back as he makes you straddle his pelvis. "cat bit your tongue? i suppose i have to let your body do the talking from here on." heat rushes to your cheeks, embarrassment dawning as you, ironically, grind your lower region against his bulge, creating friction to ease the lust brewing in your lower stomach.

the confinements of the both of your clothing felt impeding to the satisfaction the both of you are chasing. no longer spending time to be rational, you let your emotions guide your next course of action - you strip down his black pants alongside his undergarment, revealing his girthy cock itching for action.

it was adorned by the most prominent blueish veins, it continually twitches, as well as very warm in contrariety to the chilly, tranquil atmosphere encompassing the two of you. you gather spit from the back of your cheeks, redirecting it past your lips, creating leeway for it to trickle down geshu's throbbing dick.

with heavy lidded eyes and blind guess if the accuracy was right, your drool drips down from the head of his cock down to the shaft, cloudy hues gracing it. you slowly wrap your hands around his length, carelessly curling your fingers as you stroke it up and down, starting slowly yet sloppily.

geshu's body tenses from the foreign sensation, his legs trembling and arms jerking. he shuts his eyes, indulging in the feeling as you continue pumping him, granting you low growls of pleasure from the male. meanwhile you remain straddling him, higher levels of libido rushing to your bloodstream as you pick up the pacing. "t-that's it—" geshu verbalizes with a faint voice.

he gets along with your momentum, thrusting his hips upwards in accordance to your rhythm. as he was nearing his release the faster it dragged on, he rises only to flip your frail body around, pinning you down against the floorboards. geshu's chest rises and falls continuously, panting heavily as he feels his release draw back, much to his wish. you've never felt so small and helpless before.

you could pick up every detail of his body language, yet heeded no mind for the embarrassment that was previously gushing in your system. your mind starts to feel dizzy yet carefree, as if like you've drifted far away from reality and only cared about nothing other than satiating your hunger for carnal desire. once geshu's breathing stabilizes, he presses your lips against yours again, relishing every drop of your saliva.

it was becoming messy, but still, the two of you continued like animals in heat. he bites on your lower lip and sucks on the part up to no end, granting him winces of pain mixed with pleasure altogether. a deep chuckle resounds, "quite daring for you to enjoy that."

"no matter, i'll proceed as i please now." he continues and sweeps aside your soaked panties, revealing a heavenly view for him to revel in - white liquids seep out of your slit, a certain pungent scent wafts into his nostrils. "your scent is everywhere." the general states as a matter of fact.

uncertain if that was to be taken in a positive connotation, he wraps his hand around his dick and slaps it against your folds lightly, tapping the very head on your clit. the littlest touches send you spiraling into bliss, a strong yearning growing within. "put it in." you whisper with a weak voice. geshu looks at you, surprised, even more so once you add, "please."

your melting expressions have long been engraved in his mind, as he guides his tip to your slit, the door of his cabin busts open, a strong force sends it flying to the other side of the wall. geshu lin lets out a hoarse laugh, "ah, look who's here!" almost as if he was rejoicing, he repositions the two of your bodies, now holding you up as you sat on his dick.

your sight becomes hazy from all the foreplay ensuing, weakening senses coming back as you saw the familiar hues of teal within your bleary vision. jiyan stands across from your lust-lost bodies, eyes enlarging into two full moons as shock was painted upon his masculine features.

he hoists up his broadblade once more, threatening geshu to let go of your naked body. "general jiyan, if you would not treat such a competent figure like her right, then let me do it in your stead . . . as i am confident that i can treat her better."

rivalry rose from the two males, "that is no way to treat someone." jiyan's words cut through the thick tension sharply, while geshu's brows knit. "you say that, but have you paid attention to the face she's making?" just as he finishes his question, he pushes your body against his cock, thrusting into your cunt with no forewarnings. the intrusion makes a lewd, sloppy noise, accompanied by your moan unintentionally slipping.

a surprising warmth expands through your insides, stretching your velvet walls apart as they mold around the shape of the general's cock. you throw your head back in immense pleasure as he fills you up, mind almost threatening to go blank. "if you want to take her back, prove that she'd want you to reclaim her away from my grasp."

"if not . . . i'm afraid this will be the last time you'll be able to set your eyes on her."

jiyan has always been a rational person, one of the many qualities that renounce him to be truly befitting a title of a general. yet, as he sees you get lost among the sea of pleasure geshu lin has been drowning you in, a sense of ache thrums his heart against his ribcage. with slow steps he took, he's now merely inches apart from you.

geshu continues to hold you up and still, while jiyan leaves a chaste kiss on your cheek first and foremost: a sight that the former general would rather not have seen at all, contributing to his annoyance. while you remained there, incapable of taking action as if you're merely just existing. with little mustered strength, you manage to wrap you arms around jiyan's neck as you loll him into a deep kiss.

a deep kiss capable of delivering human emotions through an intimate action, "general. . ." your voice was faint, yet he understood your intentions. he shuts his eyes and let his emotions take control, immediately fondling your exposed chest as the icy tips of his golden armor fiddle your perked up buds. a moan escapes, followed by even more as the light haired general thrusts in and out of you with great force, the tip of his dick kissing your very womb. "g-general!" you yelp in an attempt to cry for mercy, yet you were only met with more brazenness.

"now you sound like you're yearning for two inside your tight hole." geshu says, frustration lacing his tone as he clicks his tongue afterwards.

jiyan's breathing becomes staggered, letting himself loose as he licks your boobs with his wet tongue, poking its tip on your erect nipples. your body flinches, its sensitivity building up while you remain a moaning mess. even you, yourself lost track of which general you were pleading to for, all you want is to drift afloat into the euphoric seventh heaven, with no other worries in mind but having your thirst quenched.

"will it fit . . ?" he asks as he casts you a look of concern, eyes fixing particularly on your lips that have been stained by three salivas all in all. jiyan unbuckles the dyad belt adorning his waist, letting everything come undone while geshu continues to pump in and out of you, his strong hands grip the plush of your thighs rather tight.

you could hear his mewls from behind, yet your attention was taken by jiyan who's currently stroking himself at the view in front of him. he sheepishly watches you get your cunt pistoned by the former general, his aching erection protruding from the fine fabric of his boxers. " . . . put it in too, general."

the two of them, simultaneously, had their jaws fall agape in shock upon hearing such yearning words come out of your mouth. with a sense of responsibility burning within jiyan, he strips himself naked at this point in time - ready to heed your request. his hands glide all the way down to your inner thighs, his dominant hand's fingers brush back and forth on your dewed folds. he anchors his attention on your pussy alone, at how it flutters every time geshu's cock pounds you in and out.

his patience starts to wear thin, the same could be said for you. with watery eyes and melting expressions, you call for him once more. "please." you mumble, but was eventually silenced as geshu turns you to him and initiates an open mouthed kiss. the teal haired general ached twice as much for more pleasure as he finally spreads your lower lips open, making more space for his dick to go in.

the head of his cock kisses the outermost part of your walls yet you were already squirming. numbness strikes through your legs and quiver, but geshu lin stabilizes them with his one arm hooked on the both of your thighs. he shoots jiyan a frustrated glare, one that seemingly felt that spoke words of "what are you waiting for?"

with slow motions, he finally inserts himself into you, the shaft of his cock comes into contact along with geshu's. jiyan's eyes dared to fall, a titillating feeling wallowing his dick whole. "so tight." he manages to utter in between his hardly stifled, ragged breathing, evident that this feeling was overwhelming.

it was getting overstimulating within each passing minute, with two, fat, big cocks buried inside of you, warming and accompanying your velvet walls as one of them itches to move - geshu's tip crooks inside and rubs on your sweet, textured spot, rewarding the generals your strings of satisfaction. "ah— i'm cumming!"

perhaps it was too late when you said it, but geshu pulls out, giving jiyan a chance to fully savor your slutty hole. "i'll make use of your mouth for now." he flips you around, making you stand on all fours with your ass perked upwards, giving jiyan a full view of your aching cunt.

you shake your hips in desperation, wriggling around just to feel his tip come into contact with your slicked walls again. all the while you coil your digits around geshu's cock, starting off with the head by kitty licks on its little slit. the white haired general loses composure and restraint, hands finding themselves cupping the frame of your face, urging for you to go deeper. as obedient as you became once lust runs in your system, you finally lap all his length up, and at the same time, jiyan rams into you, continuing where he left off earlier.

more sloppy sounds emit from the intercourse as slurping and licking accompanied geshu's dick. sweat begins to trickle all the way down all of your bodies, both the generals' luscious hair becomes disheveled, they ramp their movements by a notch as jiyan performs such impactful thrusts, ramming with his balls deep in and as for geshu, he fills your mouth with his dick alone - both aiming to chase the familiar feeling of release.

jiyan's pacing transitions into a faster one, hands gripping your waist hardly that'll certainly leave a burning sensation on your skin later on. meanwhile geshu lin, he bucks his hips forward, the tip of his cock kissing the very back of your throat. tears then begin to well up in your eyes, burning your irises as your gag reflex was getting harder and harder to tame.

"swallow it."

"i'll shoot it inside."

the both of them says in unison, and finally, strings of their sticky cum sprawl all over your body's insides: one in your womb and another in your throat. the two generals took some time to let these events sink in their desire filled minds, dicks still not softening any time soon.

jiyan looks at your naked back, the supple skin of yours makes him want to do more; eventually succumbing to the temptation. he wraps his arms around your chest and pulls you to a tight embrace, chin rests on your shoulder blade. you heavily pant, the back of your head now laid on the plane of his chest. the two of you then look over to geshu lin, whose facial expressions say that he's in no way satisfied. reading the ambience of the atmosphere, a gut feeling kicks in and tells you that jiyan feels the same.

geshu lin closes in, kissing away the drool escaping past the margins of your soft, sultry lips. jiyan then does the same, softly nibbling on your shoulder, making you elicit a short whimper.

"now, tell us. which one of us do you prefer?"

[eclipseslayer]

TASTING FEAR

➭ SUKUNA RYOMEN X F! READER SMUT ONESHOT

➭ Day 3 of Kinktober: Double Penetration

➭ SUMMARY: The King of Curses sends out Uraume to fetch his new concubine to birth his heir, and, unfortunately, it happened to be you.

➭ CW: Heian era!Sukuna, historically innacurrate, Double penetration, spankings, degredation, Sukuna uses the word "whore", cunninglingus, slight hints of dub-con.

➭ WC: 4k

➭ MDNI! 18+ ONLY!

It's a full moon tonight, and the night sky shines brightly, illuminated by the brightness of the moon, and the night air is cool, making your kimono sway in the wind.

Though, compared to the coolness of the night, you're feeling quite warm as sweat trickles down your forehead. Your hands are nervous as you dig the tips of your fingers into your palms, and your stomach is swarming with butterflies, making you feel rather ill.

It's a full moon.

That thought alone is enough to make your body quiver with fear.

In fact, you're trembling. Your hands start to shake as you fear the worst.

You look to your left and to your right and see the other girls on their knees with their heads down and their shaking hands in their lap, just as you are. For a split second, you don't feel so alone until you hear the banging of a drum.

It's a steady beat, and it resonates in your ears, causing your head to vibrate.

Thum, thum, thum, thum.

You swallow thickly as the beat gets closer, and the beat pounds in your head with each second it gets closer.

Thum, thum, thum, thum.

With one final slam, THUM!, the beat shakes your bones and you jump, whimpering as your worst fear has come true.

The King is here to collect his prize.

There's a defeaning silence. You hear someone's wooden sandals walk against the dirt of the ground, kicking around the dirt as they pace back and forth down the line of girls, furthering the intimidating atmosphere.

Then, they stop. Wooden sandals stop in front of you and your heart thumps loudly in your chest, and your eyes widen. You shake your head as tears begin to fall down your face.

"No, no, no, no..." You whimper under your breath.

"No?"

The woman in front of you speaks, her tone, mocking as she erupts into laughter. She reaches down and immediately grips your hair, yanking your head up so you meet her face.

You're met with a sheet of pale skin, and a wicked smile is etched upon her face, only to be graced by mischievous, purple eyes. Her short, white hair is swept by the breeze of the night, but safely kept together by the red clips in her hair.

"You don't have a choice. Otherwise, the King will burn down your village, remember?" Her voice is low and sharp.

You can only whimper and nod in response—too scared to even reply.

The King of Curses.

You've only heard tales of horror about him. He burns down villages, murders women and children in cold blood, and captures the remaining survivors of the village as slaves to be used as servants at his temple.

"He's a demon! A living curse!"

Your grandmother would say each time the full moon arose, when the King's servants came to your village to pick his woman.

Then, of course, the women who were chosen to be concubines for the King were never seen or heard of again.

It was as if the walls inside the palace were impenetrable. No one had ever made it outside the King's temple to live and tell the horrible tale of Sukuna Ryomen, and no one from the outside had ever made it in, unless, they were invited, and those who were invited were never seen again.

The temple of the King of Curses—a black hole in the middle of Japan.

The woman lets your hair go and thrusts your head back down.

"Arise. We're off to his Majesty's temple at once."

The dirt crunches under her feet as she walks away towards the carriage.

Slowly, you rise off of your feet, and with a hanging head, you join the woman.

The ride is long and torturous.

The woman introduces herself as Uraume—the King's head servant. She serves the King closely, and retrieves anything he asks for, even the women he chose as concubines.

She also tells you the rules and how to approach the King.

"Do not make eye-contact with him unless instructed to by him."

"Do not speak to him unless spoken to."

"Do not refer to him so casually, even as you lie in bed together. He is His Majesty—nothing more, nothing less."

She continued to ramble on about the rules, but all you could do was focus on the fear that was quaking within your body, the tremors growing slowly within you as you neared the King's temple, until suddenly, the carriage comes to a halt.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest and your nails dig into your palms as you try to calm yourself, but, despite the numbing pain, your heart still keeps that quick, pounding beat.

"We're here."

Uraume is abrupt with her movements as she stands up. She grabs your hand and forces you to come with her, yanking you out of the carriage. You almost trip and fall, but luckily you catch yourself, stumbling over your feet as you catch your balance.

Uraume scoffs at you, rolling her eyes as she fixes her kimono before turning to you to fix yours.

"Be presentable in front of the King," she murmurs, almost scoffing at the fact that she can't believe she's bringing in someone like you in front of her lord.

Once she's done fixing your kimono, she turns away and starts walking up the steps of the temple, and you follow behind.

The palace is huge—your jaw nearly drops at the sight of it. Guards are posted at nearly every corner of the temple, and the steps lead all the way up to the temple that looks like it could sit in the sky.

Though, as big and as pretty as it was, as soon as you took a step on the stairs that led up to the temple, you felt a rush of cold shoot through your body. It was as if an evil shroud surrounded you, making chills run up and down your spine.

You look up at the temple again, knowing a certain evil must be resting inside.

That demon. The King of Curses.

Fear enshrouds you the entire time you walk up the steps to the temple, but, despite it, you persist, simply because you know you have to see who or what lies in that temple.

Finally, after climbing many steps, you arrive to the front of the temple. Uraume waves a stiff hand to the guards, and the guards move quickly to open the heavy front doors.

You swallow thickly.

A resounding bolt unlocks the doors, and they slowly open before coming to a slam shut once you and Uraume step inside.

The interior is huge, and red. Long archway made of red wood overarch the ceiling. Fountains of water run along the walls, and intricate murals adorn the walls full of—what you assume to be—epic battles and stories from what the King must've pursued, and, at the very end of the interior was his throne.

You bite your tongue once you see it. It lay empty, but the throne itself was full of blood, as it was shaped out of bones and human skulls, all of different sizes. It made your stomach churn.

"This way."

Uraume's voice suddenly tears you out of your sickly state, making you whip your head to find her opening up a shoji screen.

You follow her through it, making several twists and turns throughout the palace, until finally, you reach a large shoji screen.

You shiver. You feel that cold feeling again, knowing that a being of malice has to lie beyond this door.

This is it.

"Remember the rules. His Majesty Sukuna awaits you," Uraume shoots you a sharp look that sends ice down your spine. "Enter."

Slowly, she slides the shoji screen open.

You step in, and she suddenly slams the screen shut behind you, making you flinch.

You keep your head bowed, remembering the rules.

You hear a groan, a deep, rumbling groan escape from someone. Then you hear shifting, as if a large animal were moving. The movements are heavy, and slow.

Then, feet padding over to you, until they stop suddenly.

You see large feet out of your left peripheral and your heart drops to your stomach.

How big is he? You think to yourself as your breath starts to shake as you keep your gaze to the floor.

A finger. A large, thumb slides under your chin and your breath skips, and the thumb tilts your head up until finally, you see him.

The King of Curses. Ryomen Sukuna.

His face is made of something out of a nightmare. Half of his face is human, while the other half of it is made from—what looks like—wood. Two big, red eyes sit on the wooden piece, glaring down at you like you were something inferior, while his more human face also held two red eyes. His hair, stood like flames, and the color of it resembled something along those lines, too.

Your eyes follow his neck down, and they widen when you see his skin adorned with inky black tattoos, and they widen even further when you realize those tattoos follow not only two big arms, but four.

Your heart beats faster in your chest, and a lump forms in your throat as you let out even more shaky breaths when your eyes reach his stomach.

The demon was already large and intimidating, but there, something monstrous lies at his stomach as an opening suddenly reveals itself to you, and a large tongue licks its lips.

A mouth. On his stomach. So this is what the villagers meant when they said the King devoured.

"You must be the woman Uraume fetched for me," he suddenly says; his voice is deep, and it rumbles.

Your legs shake at the sound of it and you swallow thickly, completely too stricken with what feels like fear to speak.

He turns your head from the left and to the right, as if he's inspecting you.

"Hmm," he sighs and his tall stature leans down until his face is pressed into your neck and he sniffs. He pulls away, standing back up to his full height. "You'll do."

"Although..." He lets go of your face and he circles around you, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other like a tiger circling his prey. "...you're full of fear. I can see it. Smell it. Hear it. Touch it," he runs a hand down your back, making goosebumps arise on your arms. He grins a mouth full of big teeth and then leans down once more, pressing his face into your neck again. His tongue darts out and leaves a slow, long lick along your skin on your neck. He murmurs into your ear, "and taste it."

He hums when he hears your breath shake again, and with a low, amused chuckle, he pulls away.

"I must say, it tastes delicious. I think I want to taste it some more." He leans down once more, and he runs a long fingernail under your chin, making you whimper.

"That's it..." A laugh emanates from him—deep and loud—and he scoops you up with all four of his arms, and within seconds you're pushed down flat against the plush mattress of the King's bed, your face pressed into the pillows.

You want to struggle, you want to whine and try to kick Sukuna off because you know it's not right to have sex with a demon such as himself, but like a spider to the fly, he traps his prey within his arms and crawls on top of you, immediately spreading your legs out for him.

"You humans are so weak... so pathetic," he murmurs and he flips up the bottom of your kimono, revealing your bare ass to him. He grins, wickedly, and rubs a large hand over the smooth, supple flesh and then slaps it harshly with another one of his hands, causing you to jolt. You whimper again, and you clutch onto the bedsheets, feeling like you want to cry.

"Yet, you're perfect for carrying an heir... useful and disposable—just like you mortals should be."

Slap.

Another meaty hand meets your ass and you let out another cry.

"Tsk. Human girls. Such finicky things..." He responds to your cry, and he uses two of his large hands to grip the globes of your ass while his other two hands spread your legs further apart. His eyes widen at the sight in front of him, and he grins, and laughs.

"I was going to make a complaint about having to take my time to make you wet, and yet, here you are..."

Your eyes widen at Sukuna's remark and you shake your head, finding it impossible that you're wet.

You're scared out of your mind. How could your body be betraying you in times like this?

"N-No..." You try to argue but Sukuna laughs—maniacally.

"Oh, yes, yes, I'm afraid... you're wet, girl."

He slides a thick knuckle down your slit, gathering up your slick and thrusts his finger in front of your face. The shine reflects in the light. You swallow harshly.

"I-I—" Your attempt to rebuttal falls weak to yet another laugh from Sukuna. He's cruel. He's mean, and yet, somehow, you're finding a very small piece of you liking it, apparently.

You catch yourself swiveling your hips in response to Sukuna touching you, hoping that he'd touch you again. The large demon and his large hands—his fingers—all of him, you hope that he touches you, admittedly.

Yes, he's a terrifying being, bit, maybe that's what's drawing you in. Maybe that's the grip that has a hold on you as your hands dig into the plush of the comforter while you beg for more.

"Oh?" Sukuna is amused once he sees your hips swivel in front of him.

"This is amusing..."

Slap.

His large hand meets your plush bottom again and you jolt.

You whimper.

He grins.

"You don't bore me..." He grips your ass and pulls you forward towards him and he leans down and presses his large nose against the slick flesh between your thighs.

He smells. Deeply.

"I can smell it... your fear. Yet, you still behave like you want me. It is... pleasing," his voice lowers almost impossibly, and you grip your bedsheets again, gasping when he suddenly presses the flat of his tongue against the flesh of your cunt.

It's so wet, and it drools against your cunt as if it were a waterfall, leaving your head to be nothing but a dizzy mess.

The flat of his tongue rolls over your cunt as if he were testing your limits for something. His touch is light and teasing while he licks from top to bottom, grazing ever so lightly over your clit that has you squirming.

Sukuna notices this, and, amused, he grins and decides to earn your favor by closing his lips around your sensitive nub and suck.

His tongue prods at it, darting in and out of his mouth while suckling intently on your clit, and his nose presses into your folds, spreading the mess of your insatiable sin around as he sucks intently.

All of it leaves a burning feeling begin to kindle in your stomach. You're hot. You begin to sweat from how good Sukuna's tongue is. It's unbelievable that you're trapped beneath the demon's arms with his tongue pressing the button of your clit, over and over again, swirling and licking as if you were a delectable fruit, ripened for the slaughter.

His tongue is messy, too, leaving a trail of saliva everywhere his tongue leads, trailing down and onto the bedsheets, onto the sides of your thighs, and even somehow to your asshole where saliva leaks in.

All of it, all of the wetness makes your head spin, and the suckling of the clit only gets harsher and meaner when Sukuna detects that you're getting close. You whine, fingers grasping at the bedsheets for who knows what—as if the bedsheets were going to save you from the attack of Sukuna's tongue—meanwhile your breath quickens and the kindling fire in your belly grows and grows until it's a roaring fire, leaving you a panting mess.

"M-My Majesty... I-I'm—"

Your words are rewarded with another harsh slap onto your bottom once more, making you let out a cry from the soreness. It stings, and yet, it makes your cunt throb, and it twists the oven open in your stomach, leaving the roaring flame to become ablaze when you suddenly feel every inch of you shaking and crying as you cum.

Sukuna retreats his tongue, giving you room to shake and cry beneath him. He's amused while he watches the feeble human shake under him as he watches silky, white cream flow from your cunt.

He doesn't stop, though, as he grins and takes a finger and traces a sharp talon around your folds, making you twitch and whimper.

"Mmm... I could taste your fear, too," Sukuna licks his lips that are coated in your shine and grins.

He retracts his talons into his fingers, making his nails short and stubby while he plays with your wet pussy. He grins while he watches you twitch and shake beneath him.

It's cruel, you think, as you watch him with a dizzy head and a shaking body, how he plays with you like he's a spider and you're the fly, being spun into his web. Yet, unlike the fly, you're enjoying every second of the demon taking advantage of your fear.

Knowing that you're enjoying this, Sukuna decides to take things a bit further, and circle his finger around your asshole making your eyes widen.

"Your Majesty..." You begin to protest, but Sukuna tuts.

"Ah, ah, ah... no. It has to be done. This is how you will take me."

He commands it, and your body tenses up as his finger glides over the wet entrance of your asshole, covered by your slick and his saliva.

"No. Don't be so tense."

Another command voiced by his low tone, and it's almost aggravated. It makes you weak as your muscles loosen.

He hums, pleased by your obedience. His finger slowly dips into your asshole, groaning at how tight it is, he feels his cocks twitch at the feeling.

"Tight..." His voice rumbles.

Slowly, he prods his finger in and out of it, getting you to open up as his finger pushes in deeper, and deeper each time he pushes it in, until his knuckle reaches the base of your ass, and by the time his knuckle reaches it, your body is a heated mess from having to take his thick finger in your ass.

"Aaah... Majestyyy..." You whine, your fingers digging into the mattress.

Your whines only heightened when Sukuna pushes in yet another finger into your ass. You almost scream from the pleasure, but you're too distracted from how full his fingers make your ass feel.

Your eyes almost cross when he begins the same motion again, pumping them in and out, slowly, and then, when he's satisfied, he adds yet another finger.

You're melting from his fingers. Your body becomes a limp mess, your knees weaken as you slowly melt into the mattress, but, despite it, Sukuna keeps you held up with one hand placed underneath your thigh.

"Now..." Sukuna hums and he withdraws his fingers, leaving your hole gaping and needing. "Be good."

It's a simple command, and it leaves you wondering what he means by that. You turn your head to get a better look at him, and you see him removing his black bottoms slowly.

He unwraps the thick fabric from around his waist, and as it moves down his body, your eyes widen once you're revealed as to why he needed to prep both of your holes.

Two cocks.

Both of them, heavy and thick. One rests on top of the other while the other one hangs down on top of a heavy set of balls.

You swallow thickly and the demon grins.

"Stay as you are, human," he grunts as he moves forward on top of you, trapping you within his four arms.

Not like I have a choice, you think to yourself as you let out shaky breaths.

You feel his cocks brush against your holes and you whimper to yourself, unsure if you're able to take both of them, especially at the same time.

Sukuna, though, doesn't leave room for argument as he quickly cuts to the chase, pressing the tips of his cocks against each hole, and then, slowly, he pushes each cock in leaving you moaning and feeling so full.

"F-Fuuuu..." You can't even finish your sentence as your body feels so stuffed to the brim. You lean the front of your body down, pressing against the mattress, feeling yourself wanting to go limp.

Once more does Sukuna not give you the time to react, once he pushes in, he goes in all the way, and then he pulls out, and goes back in, starting with agonizing slow thrusts.

Immediately, your brain is turned off. You're nothing but a measly bunch of holes to him as he starts to fuck you.

Large, meaty hands grab your bottom, keeping it up, while the other hands push your head down into the mattress.

You're floored with how good this feels, feeling stuffed to the brim as each cock moves in and out of you, and as his pace quickens.

He's thick and girthy, and you feel your walls clinging to him as he fills you out, each thrust filling you out more and more as each second passes, leaving you a babbling mess as you continue to take Sukuna deep within you.

"Haaa... aaah..."

Sukuna chuckles at this, finding it almost hilarious that a human such as yourself is enjoying this. Usually his prey are weak and so full of fear that they can't even take him, and yet, you... you're different. Your fear fuels you, turning you on to such an extent that you accept him fully, to the point where you're taking both of his cocks so well.

"Hmmph, what a good hole you are... so easy to use... you don't fight back." He grins. "I'm loving this."

With that, his pace grows more intense and brutal. You whine as his hips meet yours in harsh snaps—skin meeting skin in a loud cacophony, among other sounds—your bottom snaps back against him, jiggling with each motion. He groans at the sight, and removes one of his hands from your head and smacks your bottom with a resounding clap, making you whine again.

It's nasty, and it's so delectable that you're being stuffed and impaled as if you were one of his poor victims meeting the end of his sword, that it sends your head spinning with pleasure, and soon, your gut twists as you feel yourself coming close to your end.

You tighten around him as a result and the demon grunts.

"Tight little—" he breathes, gritting his teeth as he feels close, too. "—whore."

His pace quickens, becoming meaner by the second as you feel the tips of his cocks meet your cervix, fucking you dumb as you lay against the mattress, until, finally, you tighten around him again, and again, and again, and—

"Oooh!"

You finally cry out as your legs shake, and tremble, finishing around his cock, earning a loud grunt from him.

With one final, mean, snap of his hips, you feel him bruise against your cervix and your ass. You feel his cocks throb as he finally leaks into you, spilling his white seed inside you, leaving you more full than you already were.

Sukuna grins while he watches you babble dumbly beneath him, trying to gain a sense of reality back. He huffs and he pulls away, his cocks leaking out of your holes as he begins to dress his lower half again.

"Mm, good little whore. I suppose I'll keep you around to see an heir, yes?"

[lostintransist]

The Second Duchess

Y'all, Noona's brain worms got me again. AO3 | This will be two parts. | This will end bitter. A/B/O dynamics, vaguely victorian, there will be an actual ghost in part two, odd power dynamics.

When John found you, a foreign lady, visiting a neighboring earl, he thought he had found redemption.

His first wife had been designationless, like you. He and his pack, Johnny, Simon, and Kyle, had ill-treated the first duchess. Her final words, left in an open letter, lingered over them all, even now.

You were supposed to be better. Every tale of you spoke of your bravery, your dedication, your loyalty. I found them all to be lies. When my corpse haunts your memories, may you think on it with more fondness than you ever did me.

The people who claimed the right of parentage over you had sent you to a foreign court in the hopes that someone would take pity on you. Foolish attempt really. No one at home wanted you; no one here would either.

All your life you had been discarded. Set aside for your lack of designation, you learned to cope. The scarred skin at your neck where your gland had failed to grow in the womb became your favorite place to decorate. If not with necklaces, then with art. You had learned how to paint on your body and create wreaths that wound round your neck; you set new standards because you could not do much else. If people were going to stare, why not give them something to look at?

Running wild became your favorite way to use your lack of designation. You could ride a horse side saddle or sitting forward like a man. You could ride better than most men in either seat. The stable hands at home got used to a horse disappearing for a few hours. You always stabled the horses you used, fed them, and brushed them. They stopped complaining after they saw how well you cared for the animals.

You hired art teachers and painted nude bodies. Music teachers taught you how to listen to the lewd songs sung in the taverns and play them at dinner parties. Languages were mastered; the curses were the things you memorized first. The cooks blustered when you demanded to be taught, but when you threatened to hire someone to teach you they quickly gave in.

The maids taught you on the sly the cant and candor of the working class. When they told you of the needs in the community you worked directly with the women who headed each group in need. Connections were gathered like coins in a purse and guarded like a hen over her chicks.

Without quite knowing how you became a woman of influence. A whisper or a word in the right ear and you could turn the tide on harmful policies. If you declared a business untenable for their use of child labor or the way they treated their workers the working class would not patronize them again.

That same level of leverage never breached the bubble of the aristocracy; hence, how you found yourself shipped away to start again.

The weeks warning your mother had given you had been enough for any in your contact to fire off letters to kin and foe alike of your coming. Even letters to foes told of your abilities to conquer changes.

Dock workers had a penchant for overindulging in your country. Men overindulging left women and children bereft of comfort and stability. You had been working at the underpinnings of fact before you had been shipped off.

No one noticed where you wandered, even here in this new country. No one cared. Just this morning you had sat down with the head of the laundress of the city to see what pieces you could shift. Their letter had arrived first, and tending to their needs would become your first priority. They needed childcare.

Children often needed tending and older children needed to be taught reading, writing, and arithmetic. An aging governess or two could be convinced to play school teachers and a maid without a reference could become a tender. Most of the legwork would arise from connecting with the women who would care for and teach the children. The juxtaposing issue would be where to house them and the children during the day. The price per child needed to be reasonable to the laundress and enticing to the governesses and the maid.

Censure, while a familiar disrespect, never became easier to bear. It bit at your flesh like the slap of hands. You had been relegated to the piano in the corner of the room while the other women partook in after-dinner sherry.

You hated sherry. You hated all alcohol really but sherry most of all. It tastes of lies and disappointment in its syrupy sweetness. Shuttering those memories, you focused on playing through a key change and into a jaunty tune; lewd would be a more accurate word, for the song you had learned down at the docks.

All these thoughts swirled through your head as your fingers played without you. Being so deep in thought you failed to notice the men had rejoined the party.

The knuckles rapping the top of the piano before your eyes brought you back to your body. Your motions paused the last notes you played lingering in the air. It is doubtful anyone was listening to you anyway.

A broad man leaned against the piano. His hair was cut short and sprinkled with gray. A neatly maintained beard, sun-kissed wrinkles around his eyes, as well as the fine cut of his coat completed the look of a lord. Being unfamiliar with this county’s aristocracy you offered a demure smile.

“Can I help you, my lord?”

“Where did a thing like you learn a tune like that?” His voice is rich and cadence firm.

“It is astounding the things musicians will teach you for the right incentive.” Settling your hands back to the keys you began to play a medley of your favorite drinking songs.

“Why do you not hide it?” His voice is as a surprise as it is unexpected.

Decorum meant different things here. Like it being acceptable to ask about one’s secondary gender.

“Why would I hide something I am not ashamed of, my lord? I am not causing harm to others by existing,” you lift a brow as you glance at him quickly.

He stared at the paint ringing your neck. The style of dresses here, that your great aunt had draped you in despite your protests, involved low necklines and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The corset cinched around you held up the dress. You had painted flowers and vines. Now, if anyone stared overlong you could assume they were observing your skill with a brush and not the scar where your scent gland should be.

Transitioning into a light, airy tune that has been well accepted by “higher” society you stole glances at the lord. You had yet to be introduced, but his dismissal of decorum intrigued you. Not many men approached you for a chat, even less without being introduced as an oddity first.

“Would you take a turn around the room with me?”

And there went your interest. Like with anyone who did not conform to society’s standards, you were propositioned every so often. Pursing your lips, you don’t look at him again.

“If you can gain an introduction before I depart for the night, I will consider it.” Focusing back on your fingers you played around a key change into a moving piece.

This bit of music sounded a bit like weeping when you played it.

He would not find your aunt anywhere near this room. She had consumed a fair amount of dairy in the soup course and would be leaving rancid deposits for the maids to clean in the morning. Once she felt well enough to travel she would send someone to collect you to the carriage. No one else here could claim acquaintance to the point of introductions.

As you predicted the lord could be seen drifting from person to person questioning and pointing toward you where you played still. All shook their heads and peered around for your aunt. Nearing forty minutes later a maid approached you, hands clasped neatly in front of her white frock.

“Ma’am, your aunt awaits you in the carriage,” her voice is mouse quiet even as her eyes dart to and for.

“Thank you for telling me. Can you inform the butler I will need my things?”

The notes lingered before dying, suffocated under the volume of conversation. The lord noticed though. As you slipped around seats and finally into the front hall, he followed. The aged butler held out your shawl, gloves, and hat.

One glove on and buttoned at the wrist you started on the other one when he appeared. The lord gave a near-silent dismissal to the butler. When you turned you found your hat and shawl held hostage.

“My things, my lord,” your hand extended for your things.

“While I was not able to obtain a formal introduction, I wanted to introduce myself. Duke John Price, at your service.”

Plucking your bonnet from his hand, you hum. Duke Price glared at you as tied it in place.

“How wonderful I avoided the misfortune of being introduced to a duke then being as lowly as I am, hmm?” You glanced at his face.

His sun-kissed wrinkles are now plucked with frustration.

“Will you be returning my shawl or shall I brave the night with bare shoulders, Duke Price?”

You let the title remind him of his place in the scheme of life.

The blue of his eyes reminded you of the center of a flame, scorching in its heat. You saw the decision in the tilt of his head. Standing stiller than the statues you saw dotting this land, you did not fight when he settled the shawl around your shoulders.

“Travel safe. I look forward to our upcoming introduction,” Duke Price held to the end of the shawl as you stepped back.

“Must not have much to look forward to in this country,” you let derision drip from your tone.

One more step back and you are free. A hand behind your back finds the doorknob and you are out. Now the footmen are looking to the door as you descend the stairs.

“What kept you?” Your great aunt’s voice bites from the dark of the carriage.

“It took some time for the butler to gather my things,” you lie. Climbing in and sitting forward on the bench to peer out the door window, Duke Price watches you from the door.

Sliding back the darkness hides you from view.

John fired off a letter before the sun had risen. I have found her. I will return when wed.

It took weeks before he secured your acquaintance. He tried though, gods, the way he tried. You would have laughed if he didn’t disrupt so many damn meetings.

A local Chaplin had agreed to offer room and board to the two governesses and the two maids who would be watching and teaching the children. A different church, whose Bishop agreed, would serve as the care space and classroom. The two churches would have no fees, but negotiating the prices that would remain fair for the laundresses and the women caring for the children became the sticking point.

The women all raised their voices. It was as if they could shout a little louder than their neighbor they might be clearly heard. In times like these, you were grateful for your nose blindness. Someone had once explained that the overlapping scents of anger reminded them of a barn fire, acrid and dense.

You finished finalizing the numbers on your page before standing. Snatching up your mini abacus, because math in your head forever alluded you, you placed it in a pocket of your skirt. Both hands lifted your skirt. Once your feet could move freely, you stepped onto the chair and then onto the long table where the discussion had devolved.

Both boots planted firmly you released your skirt and shoved fingers in your mouth to whistle. The piercing sound cut through all of the noise. All of the women sat down and glowered at each other, and you.

Movement at the door of the room tipped your annoyance into rage. Duke Price stood in the doorway. This was the fourth meeting he had appeared in.

“The Duke of Price has two seconds to be gone from this room or he will be funding this project for a year.”

Your pointed glare and sharp words caused all the women at the table to turn and do the same. These were proud women. They would not accept charity, and the offer of it would be seen as offensive. The duke narrowed his eyes and stepped back into the shadows.

“Close the door, my lord. If you are incapable of such a feat one of these lovely women would be happy to assist.”

The iron lock clicking into place turned all eyes back to you. Pinching your fingers to the bridge of your nose you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Here is the pricing that accommodates everyone. The women handling the children will not need to cover room and board, which will reduce their incoming monies. In turn, that reduces the burden per child for the laundresses. Now, you must decide among yourselves,” you open your eyes and scan the laundresses now, “If you wish to pay a per child fee or a flat fee. Tally your votes and inform me of your decision. This scheme will begin on the first.”

The women who handled the dirty laundry for the city nodded and rose. They spoke among themselves as they exited the room.

The older governess, Brenton, if you recall correctly spoke up now. Her white hair gleamed under her dowdy cap.

“Who will be supplying the learning materials? The pay for watching the children will not cover that.”

You climbed down as you thought over how to obtain the needed materials.

“There is an irksome lord that I will make pay for the displeasure of my constant annoyance.”

All four women shared a look. They had worked under several lords and ladies and knew this would be a formidable task.

“Well,” Miss Brenton clapped her hands twice, “We will leave you to your trial ma’am. If we can be of any assistance before our work begins, please reach out.”

“Thank you. I know this is going to be an odd period of transition for all of us.” Settling at the head of the table as the other stood, you gestured to the door. “Miss Brenton, if you don’t mind, could you play chaperone for a moment?”

“Must say, I am interested to see how this plays out.” Tucking her skirt back down Miss Brenton sat back down.

Pulling out a clean sheet you began to note down the needed items, chalk and chalkboards, readers, nappies, blankets, cribs, the list went on. The click of heavy-soled shoes stopped at your side. Paying it no mind, you continued. A second sheet joined the first, transferring a list of vendors that would help funnel money to the bottom where it was most needed. Some were spouses of the laundress, others were brothers, fathers, or uncles. All were low class and would provide solid work.

A total of three sheets filled you ensured each was dry before stacking them. Folding them into neat thirds, you turned and handed them to Lord Price.

“You are a difficult woman to make an acquaintance of,” he took the papers held in proffer. “What is this?”

“The bill.” Standing, you let the chair legs scrape against the floor. “Miss Brenton, can I interest you in having company on your walk home?”

The shrewd woman looked near apoplectic at your handling of a duke.

“This is a lengthy bill.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

Lord Price’s eyes were upon you when you finally let your head finish turning. No smile graced his lips. Shame. For all he had made your last few weeks as painful as a throne in the thumb, he was nice to look at.

He wore a blue today. His eyes shone with the gold stitching on his jacket and vest.

“It has been extraordinary lengths you have gone to bother me; this seemed a fair request.”

Neither gaze shifts when Miss Brenton choked on air.

“Consider it done,” Duke Price tucked the list into his inner coat pocket. “May I join you ladies on your journey?”

“Of cour—”

You cut Miss Brenton off with a hand and a sharp look. Turning that sharp look on the lord, you speak your piece.

“No. I do not know what your intentions are with me, and frankly, I am tired of finding you amidst my business. The only men who pursue me do so for my,” you gesture to your scarred neck, “eccentricities.”

A string attached to your stomach could not have pulled tighter than if it were looped to a kite. This conversation made you wish you could skitter into a hole, a church mouse hiding from god. This would be the sixth time you had told a man no.

The duke huffed a laugh.

“I have enough eccentricities roaming my home. What I seek is a chance to see if we would get on well.”

His blue eyes left heated trails as they worked across your face. Goose flesh rose on your arms. Chest and further down where you dare not think of the flesh continued to rise. Every bit of you reacted.

“Why?” The question is breathy, haunted with questions.

Duke John Price held the sword of Damocles at your neck. The blade yearned for a taste.

You spent your days in the shadows. Confronting men who could take what they wanted was the only time you thought you knew what it was like to be whole. Acid bullied the back of your nose.

“I am in need of a wife. Someone who has the skills to manage others.”

He is not done. You don’t care.

“Choose any of your fashionably young countrywomen then.” Ripping your eyes from him, you stack your papers and close your ink well for travel. “There is a full troop of them yet unwed who would kill for the chance to lay in a duke’s bed. They have all been trained to manage households.”

The string in your body is cut. A tangle now lives in your chest.

“Miss Brenton, was it?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Can you give us the room for a moment?” The kind command would take more fortitude than the aged governess possessed.

A beseeching look to the matronly woman did not save you. Her wrinkles quivered as she slowly stood.

“I can give you three minutes m’lord.”

He inclined his head as if accepting a toast from a royal.

As the door swung shut you formed a plan. Stepping to the opposite side of the table, for distance and a barrier, failed. The toe of your boot caught the leg of the table. Papers fluttered from your hands as your knees cracked against the stone floor. Duke Price was there in an instant. He lifted each paper, laying it neatly in a stack.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn’t moved from your fallen position. Head hanging to your chest you held back from weeping by the breadth of a string.

“Why will you not leave me be?” The words are harsh, strangled by the tightness in your throat.

“When hunting foxes, one strategy to attempt is sending them to ground. Where do they hide when they can no longer run?” His demeanor was cool, his voice soothing. “You run in circles, managing to better every bird, twig, and rock you brush against in your escape.”

Sniffing, you set about finding a handkerchief to wipe your face; you refused to face the laundress’ if they knew you used your skirts as rags.

A blue handkerchief in a gloved hand drifted below your nose. Lifting it, careful to not touch even his glove, you dab your nose.

Somehow you had managed to drip ink into the crease where your nail becomes flesh. Gloves hurt your hands after a time. You had managed to work around wearing them. No one noticed. No one ever noticed. And if they did they didn’t care to police a grown woman who had no prospects.

“I have a pack, they are wonderful and I would burn the world for them. I need a wife who can see. I am looking for someone who notices the needs overlooked, connects with those unheard, and sends war captains on impossible journeys. If you had allowed an acquaintance between us weeks ago, I could have courted you slowly.”

Duke Price holds out your papers. They crinkle in your delicate grip as you press them to your breast.

“I do not believe you.”

His cloth pressed to your nose cannot prevent all the vile feelings filling up your bones from injecting themselves into the words.

No one wanted you. Even the one who had lied in word and deed to make you believe he did.

Brokenness allowed you to see because you could not smell; that did not make you valuable.

“And what would make you believe me?” He curls nearly in half to peer up at you.

A duke is on his knees, craning his need to get a look at you. What the hell had this world turned into?

Sniffing again, you straighten. Plans. You can make plans.

“A contract. Legally binding even in marriage. Make it two. One to court me and become engaged and the second retaining my rights to leave this country unhindered, if I so desire, if marriage were to come to pass.” You study him now. The wheels are turning in his mind.

“And what of the consequences of reneging on either contract?” A single brow is lifted in your direction.

“I imagine your solicitor has worked with you a long time, my lord. If he does not think of something suitable, I would be happy to revise and return it for review,” you lift a brow in response.

Games were easier. The rules never changed. Once understood, you could slide below notice and return to living life and helping where you could.

The man before you lifted both cheeks into a full smile. Your heart dropped into your heels still below your butt. He had a beautiful smile.

“They will be at your door for review before the week is out.”

“You have not yet gained an acquaintance, my lord, it might be rejected at the door,” you gave him a saucy wink and a watery laugh.

“I think a contract will be introduction enough.”

He held out a hand. You shook it, grip firm. Twice it bobbed before he turned your hand over and laid a kiss on your knuckles.

Catching sight of your lifted brow from his position he threw you off balance, again.

You had been to sea. Once only, were you out during a storm.

Then you had clung to the railing until a man in a slicker had slid a rope around your waist and helped haul you below deck. That wild energy that had commanded you to land came now. This time though? You longed to dive below the waves. If only to see if the storm could touch the seabed below.

Solicitor Allchin sat stiffly in the sitting room of your great aunt’s home. He wore black as if born to it, hair flounced the appropriate amount to show he would be fastidious and dogged in a task.

Your nails, trimmed short, bite into the fabric coating the arms of the wing-back chair. The crazy fool had actually done it. Two contracts lay strewn on the tea table before you. Unable to continue to read, they had been thrown down.

“Allchin?”

The man startled at being addressed. He had been taking surreptitiously deep breaths. If anyone believed you to be afflicted with no scent gland upon meeting you would call them a liar.

“Yes ma’am?”

“What is your opinion of Duke Price?”

You refused to call him John. It felt like ceding ground in a war you didn’t intend to entrench in.

“He is a fair man, mostly. Cares well for those that he considers his, discards those he doesn’t.” Allchin spoke firmly. Confident in his honesty.

“Thank you. That will be all. I will return these with any adjustments within three business days.” Standing would be beyond your power. If you rose the only thing you would manage is the three steps to vomit in an oriental vase.

“Ma’am,” Allchin rose, tugging his coat neatly into place. “If I may? I have a question.”

“You may not.”

Rage fluttered in your chest with hummingbird wings; it stung your eyes, water filling them.

Allchin nodded once and saw himself out. Lifting the paperwork, you read what you could. He had tilted everything in your favor. If you agreed to an engagement you could keep it quiet until the bans were read. Either party could break the engagement and you would receive a settlement for cover “pain and suffering.” You would retain full autonomy and legal status as a person in the event of a marriage. Property bought or sold in your name would remain yours.

Working itself out seemed to be working in Lord Price’s favor.

Someone, and if you ever found them you might actually hurl them down the stairs, had told your great aunt about the visit and the paperwork.

“What is this I hear about an offer?”

The testy old woman had called you to her office like a child. She opened and shut a fan in one hand. Open. Shut. Open. Shut.

Blinking slowly, you release a breath.

“I did not think you could hear at all anymore, Aunt.”

Slam. The fan cracked against the edge of her desk.

“Do not test me, child! Have you had an offer?” Her frail voice betrays none of her age as she shouts.

Disdain drips from your canines like blood from a throat you clenched between your teeth.

“I lost my childhood to bigotry and hate. I will not lose my adulthood to it as well. Any business between myself and any man who might make an offer is none of your damn business. Only those who care about my welfare are welcome to that knowledge.” The temperature in the room changed, flashing cool before heating up with a rage you knew waited to boil over.

Turning on a heel, you stride from the room.

Any calls from your aunt fall on deaf ears. You lock yourself in your room and squirrel away the paperwork. Not well enough.

One of the maids must have found them. Word reached you as you were fitted for a wedding gown that your aunt had offered a hefty reward for the person who could pry the information from you. You thank the young woman pinning the skirt and ask after her children. She smiles as she tells you of her daughters and their clumsy attempts at stitches.

Masterlist | Part 2

[drchucktingle]

Trevor’s Hanukkah has been a fun ordeal, packed with delicious food and great conversation, but now he’s exhausted and his family is begging him to spin the dreidel. Trevor finally gives in and ends up the big winner, collecting more foil-covered chocolate coins than he knows what to do with.

This is Hanukkah gelt, and Trevor’s not convinced that the taste of these old, cheap chocolate coins will be any good. He gives them all back except for one, but when Trevor realizes his snack is sentient, a whole new set of problems arise.

Now Trevor is awkwardly playing host to his living gelt, but as the night goes on the two of them begin to notice there more blossoming between them then just hunger for a snack… there’s a hunger for some dick.

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on gay living Hanukkah gelt action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and sentient chocolate coin love.

----

happy hanukkah buds enjoy new tingler POUNDED BY THE HANUKKAH GELT I WON PLAYING DREIDEL THAT I THOUGHT I’D NEVER EAT BUT NOW I’M SEEING IN A WHOLE NEW LIGHT BECAUSE IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING AND I’M HUNGRY out now on amazon and patreon

this is the single version of one of the new stories featured in holiday paperback GREAT GIFT FOR BUCKAROOS

[c0wch]

My mutual told me that I should talk more about Nezha 2 on tumblr so here goes a random thought:

AoBing x NeZha (oubing) is what the Ladynoir team could have been if the Miraculous writers had just LOCKED IN.

Oubing is also in a way based off ying-yang dynamics, with the two characters having opposite superpowers (Nezha has fire, AoBing has ice) similar to Ladybug’s creation and Cat Noir’s destruction. But even more importantly, Jiaozi’s interpretation of their dynamic meant that Oubing were EQUALS. NeZha held the Demon Orb while AoBing held the Spirit Pearl, which were halves of the Chaos Pearl, meaning the two were equal in power. In Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir, it was clear that Ladybug was the more powerful member of the duo, being given the power to purify akumas and amoks, AND Miraculous Ladybug, ON TOP of her main lucky charm power, while Cat Noir only has cataclysm. Even though NeZha is the titular character (and the main character) of the movie franchise, the writers somehow conveyed a more equal sense of power between Oubing even though AoBing isn’t even in the title (unlike Cat Noir).

The reason why it’s easier to see Oubing as equals both in a power sense and in a relationship sense is because both characters get their moments to shine. The first act of NeZha 2 was almost entirely comprised of AoBing’s feats (albeit he performed them with NeZha’s body while both souls were sharing NeZha’s body) which established his competence a thousand times better than all the times Cat Noir had gotten mind controlled by the enemy (yet it had never happened to Ladybug once in the first 3 seasons or so). But not only that, when NeZha found out that he was wrong to accuse AoBing’s father for the crimes upon Chengtang Pass, he admitted his faults and swore to AoBing that he’d rescue his father no matter what. Not only allowing AoBing his moments of defeating the enemy, but also showing that NeZha is imperfect, allows the audience to get past the presumption that the main titular character is obviously the better one in the duo, and that NeZha and AoBing are both valuable in the team.

Their dynamics also mimic Ladynoir quite a bit too, with NeZha being the de facto leader out of the two, similar to ladybug. But the difference is that AoBing is never relegated to being the follower of NeZha’s plans. More often than not, AoBing acted as the guidance to NeZha’s impulsiveness to keep the two grounded, and without AoBing, NeZha’s passion and sentimentality could have easily been taken advantage of. It’s a great way of showing that both parties contribute different but valuable roles to the team, and whenever conflict does arise within the two, it’s mostly due to a conflict of interest or ideology, which both parties would later try to reconcile. I didn’t mind that Ladynoir experienced conflicts in their relationship, but they aren’t explored as deeply as I would have liked beyond one party’s unreciprocated feelings.

Other similarities I found between the two was NeZha having two mostly good parents similar to Marinette, while AoBing has one influential father who put a lot of pressure on him at the start of his arc, similar to Adrien. NeZha (at least in his small form) is much more emotive than AoBing, similar to Marinette’s wild expressions compared to Adrien’s calmer demeanor.

Anyways. Stan Oubing.

[dipperscavern]

yes dippy we should talk about bi cregan with bi reader!!

imagine them recruiting northern hotties for threesomes 🤭

mmf: cregan with another man (preferably jace) giving her that double worship. cregan always has the upper hand ofc even when it's not a twink but another big broody northern they're sharing their bed with. and when cregan gets to top him while he eats her out and she holds eye contact with cregan as he's fucking that guy.

ffm: it's either the same way that she is the center of attention OR cregan and her tagteam that other woman and fuck her stupid. cregan with his big fat uncut cock and her with her tongue and fingers while cregan fucks the other woman.

- respectful anon

pairing: cregan stark x jacaerys velaryon x reader

authors note: oh respectful anon… i read (preferably jace) and absolutely shuddered. oh my god . i’m sorry the other ideas in here are wonderful too i just have to get this out before i go off my rocker

jacaerys arriving in the north, bearing the colors of queen rhaenyra, and being greeted by cregan stark — and his comely wife.

he can feel his breath hitch as soon as he slides off vermax and spots you, arm wrapped around cregans bicep. even though the snow crunches under his boots and the early winter winds seep beneath his clothing, jace feels his skin run hot. and this time, he cannot blame it on the blood of the dragon.

once you approach, jace gives you both a respectful nod of his head, before cregan greets jacaerys with a firm handshake. jace takes your hand, kissing your knuckles, and says the tales do not do your beauty (they don’t). you only smile, dipping into a small curtsy and playfully telling him not to make you blush.

he spares a glance at cregan, a small worry of overstepping dancing in his gaze, but cregan only nods — a smirk adorning the lord of winterfells lips.

the very lips that have grown accustomed to the feel of yours.

the thought is shooed away as quickly as it arises. you’re married, and jace feels a pang of disappointment at the places his mind has a tendency to wander to. you’re extending your hospitality to him, he won’t disrespect you with such concepts (won’t he?).

once having vermax sorted, you & cregan then escort him to winterfell. cregan speaks of the north and its history, and jace replies when necessary, but he finds his gaze drifting from the lord of winterfell, and landing on the lady attracted to his side instead. jace, no matter how much internal scolding, finds himself ceaselessly returning to quietly study (admire) your features.

as you enter the castle, jace notices your cheeks are flushed from the cold. cregan, mid sentence, silently ushers you towards the nearest hall fire with the unforeseen hand on the small of your back. something unfamiliar stirs in him at the sight (want).

they swore vows to each other in sight of the northern gods, chides jaces inner voice.

but, no matter how much restraint he expresses, as his stay continues, he finds himself enamored.

enamored with the playful glimmer in your eyes, the way your hips sway as you walk, how your dress hugs your curves, your light teasing, your love for lemon cakes, how you always catch jacaerys’ eye even from across the room. he’s utterly, hopelessly enthralled.

and even worse, he’s given himself away

you, jace, and cregan have been proper. careful not to overstep, but aware enough to silently acknowledge the underlying tension that sits between you. jacaerys would’ve been content with this dynamic for the entirety of his visit, it would’ve been a good exercise of self control — if the day in the kitchens didn’t change everything.

the skies weep, the raindrops making a soft pattering noise on the windows all around the castle. it's a brief change in atmosphere, and gives him time to get used to the more intimate aspects of winterfell.

rain trapping you inside, you and cregan had offered to give jacaerys a proper tour of winterfell, to rectify the short one he had been given upon his arrival.

this particular instance, that made him run as hot as his temper, takes place as the tour winded to an end, and you all ended up in the kitchens. the same kitchens that jace, when supping with you both from then on out, can't stop thinking about.

you had pulled them in, relishing in the idea of swiping a few small pastries to hold your sweet tooth over until dinner - assuring him that the cooks were quite used to you and cregans troublemaking, & were sworn to secrecy with a toothy grin (his heart skipped a beat at the sight).

you had been successful in your "stealing", but the problem arose when cregan had been conversing with one of the cooks, as you and jace stood over the counter, bringing the two small lemon cakes to your mouth.

you were conversing about something — what that was, jacaerys couldn’t remember if his life depended on it. once finished with your pastries, you had some leftover cream on the corner of your mouth. of course, since you're the worst minx to ever bewitch him, you raise a thumb to the corner of your mouth, swiping it off. then (of course), you bring it to your lips, maintaining eye contact with jace, and (of course) suck it off.

whatever he was saying had instantly died on his tongue.

his response was his parted lips trying to bring in air to send to his lungs so he could breathe, but, of course, you seem to have taken his breath too. suddenly the kitchen feels hot, ovens contributing to a warm atmosphere that had quickly turned blazingly overwhelming.

his gaze stayed trapped on where your thumb met your (soft looking) lips, as every part of the white cream had been sucked off.

you were most surprised & pleased by his reaction, indeed. you had an inkling the prince might be taken with you, but you wouldn’t act without certainty. and here you had it, certainty of the utmost stature had fallen right into your hands — watching his gaze flicker from your eyes, to your lips, your cleavage... and back to your lips again.

cregans voice snaps jacaerys out of the trance he had found himself in, and he’s ashamed to say he had to ask cregan to repeat himself. if he wasn’t devoting all of his energy into acting normal, he would see the way cregan glanced at you with raised brows seeing the smile on your face.

regardless of how it came to be, you’ve caught on. and jacaerys is seriously considering how dearly he’d be missed if the ground were to open up & swallow him whole.

your actions now have a certain weight behind them, confidence guiding your every step. hands “accidentally” brushing each other, glances from across the room, subconsciously leaning into each others warmth, flirtatious “jests” that grow bolder by the day, always teetering on the line of jesting and meaning it (you always mean it). you fix his crooked tunic for him, shifting it the right way. jacaerys pretends the warmth emanating from your hands doesn’t make him dizzy.

still, even so, jace had been showing remarkable restraint — not allowing his princely regime to falter (much), and keeping in his remarks. until you both spoke about vermax.

you stood atop one of winterfells walls, watching vermax fly, dipping in & out of the clouds. he was beautiful, and jacaerys would never abandon the opportunity of a conversation with you (or about vermax, of course).

jace told you of how vermax hatched in his crib as a babe, and you wistfully remark on your childhood dreams of dragonriding. he tells you you'd make a fearsome dragonrider. you say you'd made a good dragon rider indeed, but, instead of looking at vermax, jace finds your gaze fixed on him.

you poorly conceal the hidden tone of voice indicating you don't mean the green-scaled dragon in the sky above you, but the chocolate-curled dragon next to you. you don't do a good job of hiding the grin that threatens to erupt on your face, either.

jace feels a furious blush adorn his face, and the corners of his mouth tug up in a repressed smirk. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, his smile turning upside down as his gaze shifts back to vermax's soaring form.

"You speak truly. Any man would envy the dragon."

he pretends not to see the smile spreading across your face from his peripheral. you lean in closer to him, wrapping a hand around his bicep to punctuate your words.

"Men already envy you, My Prince."

he keeps his resolve as you walk away, but as soon as you're out of sight, he sighs — leaning his weight against the edge of the top of the wall, a shuddering exhale leaving his lips. gods have mercy on jacaerys velaryon.

after you sup for dinner, you and cregan escort him to his chambers, and jace feels taking on the entire green army by itself would be easier than this. trying to conceal his eyes being trapped on you, furious desire mounting in his stomach as guilt claws it’s way up his throat. it’s only by stroke of luck that you all walk in silence — he could not entertain a proper conversation if he tried.

does cregan know of your conversation? what would he say? what would he do? the very last thing he needs to be doing is disrespecting the warden of the north that he’s trying to ally.

these thoughts echo in his mind as you approach the door leading to his chambers. you three stop, jaces back to the heavy oak door as you and cregan stand in front of him.

“We shall see you in the morn, then.” says cregan.

jace nods, but his next words die on his tongue as you move from cregans side. his heart hammers in his chest as you saunter to him, standing on your tiptoes as your hand moves to cup his cheek. he subconsciously leans down for you, and you press a kiss onto the corner of his mouth, a breath to the right away from his lips.

seven save him.

his lips part with bated breath, eyes locked onto you as you pull away. his hands twitch with the need to pull you to him, and then he remembers your husband that’s standing right in front of you both.

jaces eyes widen, looking to cregan, but cregan only tilts his head.

his lips… is he smiling? as they hold eye contact, he spots amusement, content, and want (?) in cregans gaze, and then, the smallest of nods.

oh.

oh.

jace’s gaze flickers from cregan, to you, and back and forth a few more times. his breathing is unsteady as you return to cregans side, and you can’t (or don’t) hide your pleasure at his reaction.

“Goodnight, My Prince.”

he cant even manage a nod as you both turn to walk away, cregan shooting him one last look. the flustered prince of dragonstone retreats to his chambers, leaning his head against his closed & locked door — moving to fiddle with the laces of his breeches.

you and your husband certainly make quite the pair. cregan, steadfast, burly, & brooding (handsome), with a reserved playfulness only for you — and you, teasing, warm, & confident, with a seemingly reserved deliberateness to drive jacaerys crazy (not that it takes much, of course).

one night, when he thinks he's completely lost any hope of sanity, the gods decide to have a sort of cruel mercy on him.

it is lord boltons name day, and he has extended the planned celebrations invitation to jacaerys as well. you three depart as one, opting to travel by horseback instead of jace arriving on vermax days before you and cregan. most are surprised by his decision, indeed (did jace sacrifice his freedom on dragonback for the prospect of spending more time with you both?).

jace didn't know you rode horses. he acts like the swaying of your hips doesn't capture him, distracting him throughout the entire journey. you and cregan act like you don't notice (do you?)

you all arrive, and on the day of celebrations, allow the wine & northern ale to wash away your sins down your throat. cregans tolerance is highest, jace's is lowest, with you resting in the middle. his cheeks are flushed, and his prided self control has seemed to have left itself at winterfell. you converse with one another in a secluded corner, allowing everyone else to fade from view. you speak with loose tongues, and jacaerys feels cregans hand on the back of his neck, thumb creeping into his hairline.

you speak of the festivities, the travel, the gossip, dragonstone, and jaces own interests. he can see something lurking beneath your usual gaze, you were hiding something. your eyes flickered with uncertainty. no — you wanted to know something.

and then, the very question that broke the damn - sweltering with the combined pent up desire allowed to built over the last weeks.

"Are you untouched, My Prince?"

[the-au-collector]

Oh dear what an unfortunate name

[yandere-romanticaa]

The deep corners of the sea harbor many secrets. Be it countless lives which were claimed by the tides, ancient tales of a bygone era, or perhaps something even darker, something so great that the feeble human mind could not even think of comprehending.

The murky waters hid many things indeed. But for the Duke, his little secret was not so ancient, something not so important in the ultimate grand scheme of things.

It only mattered to him and only him.

He gazes fondly at his secret as he sips tea in the cafeteria, taking a break in a highly conspicuous area simply because he was the Duke and he could do as he wished.

He could have you at any moment he desired. The sentence was prolonged for absolutely no reason and searching for one was pointless. The Duke has his reasons, the staff would say. Run along now and go back to your duties. If you keep slacking off you'll starve.

Wriothesley liked to play favorites when it came to you.

That became evident to some of the staff very fast.

He had it arranged that your meals be of, at the very least, decent quality. No mystery meat for you or any rotten vegetables. If you consumed any of that your health would be in jeopardy. He could always just give you a proper meal or maybe even a downright good one but that would arise too much suspicion from the inmates and he was not in the mood to hear them complain. One day, the chef decided to be bold and serve you a wretched meal on purpose, just to test his hypothesis.

As expected, Wriothesley gave him an earful even if he never actually said anything about you. His bias was still evident and nothing could hide that.

Wriothesley liked to consider himself as an honest and a frank man. Like all people he had his secrets and his own cross to carry but if he could he wanted things to be done right in the open. No mysteries, no hesitance. If you were not a prisoner in the Fortress, Wriothesley would already have you on his arm. He was also aware of his imposing presence, the last thing he wanted to do was to scare you off. The power imbalance was simply too large between the two of you.

Therefore, like the predator that he was, he bid his time. He locked away his rawest feelings deep in his heart and hid the key, never wanting to throw it away.

He wanted you to come to him. He wanted you to seek him out.

Oh, to be loved, to be wanted by another human being. What a foreign yet pleasant thought. Wriothesley knew you did not see him in that light but damn it all if he does not try. All of the cards are in his hands and he has dealt you yours. The only option left is for you to play straight into his hand.

The thought of sharing a cup of tea with you made his heart soar. Patience was indeed a virtue. And fortunately for him, the Fortress of Meropide had taught him that skill a long time ago.

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