#royal men & jewels

[fideidefenswhore]

Far from rejoicing, Anne’s execution haunted the ambassador for weeks to come, as he struggled to comprehend who was responsible for her judicial murder.

Anne’s death was, to the ambassador, utterly unnecessary, and he wrote, “May God permit that this may be his [Henry’s] last folly.”

“the English Messalina, or Agrippina”

“certain facts concerning the Messalina [...]  heard her say that she could not imagine who could have made her lose the King's favour and love save me, for she pretends that from the very moment of my arrival at this court, the King no longer looked upon her with the same eyes as before. I confess that I was rather flattered by the compliment, and consider myself very lucky at having escaped her vengeance; for kind-hearted and merciful as she is, she would without remorse have cast me to the dogs”

“ I told her besides that although the device of the lady who had preceded her on the throne was "The happiest of women," I had no doubt she herself would fully realise that motto. “

“That God looked more into the intentions than into the deeds of men, and now she had a better opportunity than when the King's concubine was alive, since there was a question of depriving the bastard (Elizabeth) and making her (Mary) heir to the Crown.”

“Cromwell said to me about a week ago that the great and almost excessive love and affection that the English have always shown for the Princess has so increased of late, especially since the arrest of the concubine”

so...what’s the grounds for this assertion? the grounds are, apparently, a very generous interpretation of chapuys being bent out of shape that elizabeth wasn’t, contrary to reports he’d apparently received, declared to be the daughter of henry norris and anne boleyn-- because this would have effectively disbarred her from the english throne forever, meaning mary’s chances at gaining it would ostensibly become greater (or at least, that if mary remained a bastard in status, she would still outrank elizabeth insofar in at least indisuptably having henry viii’s paternity):

As he wrote to Charles, “The executioner’s sword and her own death were virtually to separate and divorce man and wife. However, if such was their intention it strikes me that it would have been a far more decent and honest excuse to allege that she had been married to another man still alive.”

Anne’s death was, to the ambassador, utterly unnecessary, and he wrote, “May God permit that this may be his [Henry’s] last folly.”

this takes that quote vastly out of context, which is this:

The statute by which the concubine's daughter was constituted legitimate heiress to the Crown has been revoked, and she herself declared bastard, not indeed as the daughter of Master Norris, as might have been implied more honestly, but owing to her marriage with the King having been pronounced illegitimate on account of his having previously had connexion with her sister.On such grounds did the archbishop of Canterbury (Cranmer) pronounce the sentence of divorce one or two days before the execution of the concubine; of which sentence, however, there was no need at all, as you are aware, since the executioner's sword and her own death were virtually to separate and divorce man and wife. But if such was their intention it strikes me that it would have been a far more decent and honest excuse to allege that she had been married to another man still alive. (fn. n17) However that may be, it pleased God that by making such a statement a still greater abomination should become manifest, —one for which the King cannot find a possible excuse, since he himself cannot plead ignorance neque juris neque facté. May God permit that this may be his last folly.

anyway...a rather generous interpretation, again. is chapuys really referring to the execution of the woman whom, still after her death, he continually refers to as ‘the concubine’, as henry’s ‘last folly’? or is he referring to the marriage of henry & anne itself as the folly, as he has consistently insisted it was for years? my money’s on the latter.

‘far from rejoicing’, indeed:

I have not hitherto written, awaiting some certain issue of the affair, which, in my opinion, has come to pass much better than anybody could have believed, to the great disgrace [of the Concubine], who by the judgment of God has been brought in full daylight from Greenwich to the Tower of London, conducted by the duke of Norfolk, the two Chamberlains, of the realm and of the chamber, and only four women have been left to her.

These news are indeed new, but it is still more wonderful to think of the sudden' change from yesterday to today, and the manner of the departure from Greenwich to come hither

1533...there was nothing in chapuys that wouldn’t have rejoiced at anne boleyn’s death, by means fair or foul, and there’s little to suggest that changed in any way in the years to come:

The lady and her father, who are perfect Lutherans, abet him in this (le mectent en cecy), and the Pope must not think to have any influence over the King while the lady and the present Council reign, unless he will give the dispensation already mentioned. A sentence is the sovereign and only remedy, and the Queen says that the King would not struggle against it, if only from fear of his subjects, who are not only well disposed to your Majesty and the Queen, but for the most part good Catholics, and would not live in excommunication and under an interdict. The King would, therefore, be forced to obey the sentence. If a tumult arose, I do not know if the Lady, who is hated by all the world, would escape with her life and jewels.

The month fixed in the brief sent to the King is nearly passed, and there are no signs of his obeying it. A sentence only would be of effect. If, meanwhile, the Pope would decree a good excommunication against the Lady if she did not stay away from Court, the King would have less occasion to complain than if it were decreed against himself, and the people more liberty of speaking against her, and remonstrating with the King.

and there’s chapuys soliciting an excommunication against anne, but not henry. tell us more about chapuys’ "distaste and disbelief” against henry...? 

[tiaramania]

Anglesey Tiara Exhibition & Sale

We’ve talked a few times about men wearing tiaras or more specifically why men don’t wear tiaras but this is an unusual piece in that it was made for a man.  Henry Paget, 5th Marquess of Anglesey, loved cross-dressing, dancing, fancy dress costumes, and jewelry.  He had this tiara made for himself in 1890.  

Unfortunately there aren’t any pictures of the Marquess wearing the tiara but it was later worn by Victoria Marjorie, wife of the 6th Marquess, at the coronation of George VI and Shirley, wife of the 7th Marquess, at the coronation of Elizabeth II.

The Anglesey Tiara will be on display at The European Fine Art Fair at Maastricht, Netherlands from March 7 to March 15 and available for sale by Hancocks London.

TEFAF - Anglesey Tiara

Vogue - Tiara With A Tale: A Colourful, Eccentric Aristocrat & His Passion For Diamonds

Forbes - From Royal Tiaras To Tribal Art: A Must-See Guide To A Crown Jewel Of Global Art Fairs

Tatler - Diamond tiara worn to King George VI’s coronation to go on sale

[moonpetrichors-blog]

Genshin men and their weddings 😩

Genshin Men and Their Weddings

Tags: Marrying Genshin Men, Headcanons, F!Reader

Warnings: None

Characters: Diluc, Albedo, Ayato

Genshin men and what their weddings would be like.

* ˚ ✦ Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [22/05/22] ❞

Diluc

You just know this man went all out for your wedding.

Spared absolutely no expense, Diluc is a rich man he will flaunt it for his wife

When he proposed, it was with a gorgeous Burmese ruby ring.

The whole colour scheme of the wedding was white and red, with some touches of black

He wore a white suit with a black shirt and gloves, but the gemstones adorning his body matched that of your ring.

Your actual wedding dress was a white, strapless ballgown with small touches of red embroidery. It had a semi-sweetheart neckline with red silk wrapped around the lower bodice of your dress.

During the afterparty, you wore a rouge, satin ballgown with a semi-sweetheart neckline. There was a rose on the side of your hip where the skirt of the dress is pulled towards, and it has sparkly, silver jewels embroidering parts of the bodice and skirt.

You can’t lie but it felt good to have some of Diluc’s admirers stare at you in jealousy.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you for the entire day, and thats all that mattered

… … … … … . . ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ,,  ⌲˘͈ᵕ˘͈

Albedo

Albedo doesn’t care to have a big wedding.

As long as you both show up, he doesn’t really mind how big or small it is.

He proposed to you in a warmer, safer part of Dragonspine where the snow fell gently around you two.

He proposed with a citrine ring.

The color scheme of your wedding was light yellow and white.

Albedo wore a white suit with a black shirt underneath as well. Instead of wearing a tie though, it was replaced with his vision instead.

Your wedding dress was a dazzling, white ballgown with intricate, light yellow floral details. Trust me, you sparkled in this dress. The hem of your skirt was lace and the bodice was off shoulder.

As for the afterparty, you guys didn’t go big. You went with a simple, A-line dress that had a scoop neckline and a criss-cross backing. The dress was light yellow with, again, touches of floral details.

Albedo looked pleased.

… … … … … . . ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ,,  ⌲˘͈ᵕ˘͈

Ayato

Lol if you thought Diluc was bad with the wedding spending, Ayato is worse 💀

Has a massive wedding with a massive afterparty

He proposed with a sky blue topaz ring.

Your wedding color scheme was white and blue.

Not too different from Ayato’s regular attire, he wore a white suit with a light blue shirt underneath.

Your wedding dress consisted of a royale high-esque ballgown with an off shoulder, sweetheart neckline. It was light blue, big, and expensive. There is a lot of lace floral designs on the bodice as it slowly travels to the hem of the skirt.

For your after party, you wore a light blue, strapless, satin mermaid dress. It had a slit on the right side and pulled the fabric of the skirt to the other side of your body. You were definitely blowing everyone away

If you thought Ayato’s wedding expenses were bad, just wait for the honeymoon oh my god

[butterfly-winx]

✨S3 Ballgowns!✨

Some notes and thoughts

Flora, Bloom and Tecna are wearing what is considered fashion on Eraklyon in the butterfly!verse (loosely 1820-1850s European fashion)

Flora has a crinoline skirt with a relatively short corseted top that is embroidered with flora representing the four seasons. She is rarely wearing yellow, though I think it would suit her immensely and when else would she indulge her princes-ly fantasies than when she is invited to a proper royal garden party? Asymmetry is very big in Eraklyonite fashion, as seen on her sleeves and split skirt (not that that detail is very true to historical fashion)

Bloom continues with a penchant for vintage and vintage inspired as she has managed to rescue a beautiful Eraklyonite gown from a magics charity shop, that just so happens to be a few decades old. As a reference, the empire waistline is very 1800-1810 and would be considered something a bit outdated, and generally seen worn by an older demographic). It’s a nice dress regardless with a lot of pearl and puffy textured rose embroidery (not by thread but little chunks of fabric if that makes sense). Her choker fans out into this 60s inspired gauzy train that floats behind her in the wind.

Tecna is wearing a cropped take on a frock coat with reference to men’s corsetry (though colour choice and embellishments are more Rococo than Romantic). This would mark the first time in the butterfly!verse that Tecna has fully liberated themselves from gender expectations and envy about the confidence the rest of the winx carry their femininity and is embracing more masculine styles of dress (for formal occasions at least). I still wanted the silhouette to be tailored and the garment shiny and embellished as fuck.

Musa is in a Melodean gown that is inspired by Tang dynasty (again more vintage than the current fashion that I tend to put Galatea in, which is Ming dynasty era). The scarf, huadian (forehead paint) and hairstyle are direct period typical references. I imagine this is a summery dress constructed of 4-5 layers of thin silk, giving it a nice fullness and movement while walking and dancing. Musa likes to experiment with intergalactic fashion, on formal occasions she frequently goes back to traditional Melodean styles even in the show, so I didn’t think she’d want to buy a new dress like the rest of the girls.

The two princesses are representing their royal families and have appropriate gowns to match.

Stella is wearing a Selenite design consisting of a plisse-d thin tunic over a dark blue dress beset with jewels to mimic stars on the night sky. The train originates from the shoulder clasps of the tunic and can be attached to her bracelets with the metal brooches fixed to the corner of each piece. (It is one piece per shoulder, not a continuous one). Most of the time Stella is the poster face for the capital, and with that the Rai culture that she more closely relates to, but she does switch it up from time to time - or just does her own thing. On Eraklyon political tension dictates she endears herself with her Selenite heritage to the upper classes, so that’s what she does.

Layla is wearing a “visiting dress” a style of fashion Androsians mimicked based on the fashion worn by the off world people they made first contact with (that just so happened to be people from Manubra 47 3000 years ago). That being said the gown draws from Elisabethan fashion but is meant to be made from fabrics inspired by African handprinted fabrics. Red garnet being Layla’s assigned birth stone, most things she wears are embellished with it. The little wave hairpieces are Layla’s royal heir “crown” that she wears with almost every formal dress in one form or another.

[espritmuse]

The birds sing for us, my love.

Knight Yelena x Princess reader.

« I will marry you one day. »

« You know you can’t, Yelena. »

« I know I will. »

When you looked up, her sombre gaze wasn’t on you, but on the grand white orb overlooking the nothingness of the sky. It seems like she appreciated observing the moon. Maybe it calmed her, in a way.

“I always get what I want.” She continued. Her head remained concentrated on the infinite space as if lost in reverie.

“ Yelena… this isn’t just a childish whim — My father will never approve this. We are already blessed that he accepted you as my personal knight…”

“ Because I’m a woman?” She interrupted.

“Because you’re a woman.” You answer, knowing perfectly that she already knew the response to her question. Of course it was because of this. Yelena was one of the best — if not the best— in all categories; strength, intelligence, devotion… If she had been born in another body, your finger would have already been jewelled with the prettiest gold ring.

“I’m stronger than most men.” She proceeded, as if it made a difference for the royal family.

“ Have I ever asserted the opposite? It is not about me, Yelena, it is about… royal principles.”

“God knows what I think about those stupid doctrines. I have proven my faith and devotion to your family more than once.” You could feel bitterness in her phrases. You knew, you always knew, since the first day, how much she wanted to marry you; Yelena has always been the obsessive kind.

“ To us marriage isn’t about passion, it is about alliances and power — and you know it.” You retorted abruptly, as if you were repeating these words in front of your father.

Her wandering gaze fell immediately to the ground, as if she had finally left her distant dream and went back to earth in an instant.

“It is unfair.” She simply said, sadness hidden in her monotonous voice.

“I know Yelena but my lineage must remain. And with you…”

“It won’t.”

A leaden silence had now settled. It hurt you as well, but you were the heiress, cradled in sovereignty and war. You could never marry the woman you love. You were destined for another and had been for years, our country will ally itself with a neighbouring country. This is how things go, love has no place, especially not with another woman.

“Do you love me?” Yelena suddenly whispered, psyche filled with scepticism.

“My dear… I adore you more than words can describe.” You responded openly-hearted, knees on the ground, now straddling her, cold and delicate fingers on both sides of her face.

“We don’t need to get officially married. Our union could stay between us, us only.” Her face has transformed the second your skin touched hers as if in one touch, she had remembered all the things she’d lived with you.

“Everything about our union is already secret. it pains me Yelena.” You held her warm hands tighter.

“I know, darling. Trust me I wish I could scream and shout how much I love you to every single person on this planet. And I promise— one day I will.”

Yelena got up, dragging you along with her. With a smile and glistening eyes, she drew you closer.

“See the trees in this forest? They all know about us. The moon knows as well. The birds sing for us, my dear, they sing for our love, as insignificant it might be.”

It was one of the first times, one of the first times that you saw her this way; delicate, tender, sincere. Not in her gesture, but in her words. Yelena knows how to demonstrate her affection but, when it comes to words, it is far more difficult for her. I love you’s are easy, — or at least, easy with you— but it usually never goes deeper than that.

“Owls…” You mumbled, your words muffled in her embrace.

“Hmm?”

“It’s too late for the birds to sing… owls took their places.”

“Good, the owls know about us as well.” She chuckled a bit. “I’ll personally tell the birds as soon as the sun arrives in the morning.”

[jodiie-leighanne]

Warnings: Smut, degradation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, fingering, m/f, Swearing.

"Tighter, tighter still"

"I-I can't breath.."

"Good, then it's perfect"

Tears whelm in my eyes, ribs pained with every contraction of my lungs. Spines of the corset all but piercings my flesh.

As a child, the same as many I dreamed of being a princess. Grand balls, lavish dresses designed by the finest seamstresses. Jewels, many jewels cut from the rarest of diamonds.

Descending a marbled staircase, gold encrusted railings. Admirers flooding to compliment my appearance, prince's fawning at my feet.

A dream. That's all it was, a juvenile dream.

Here I am at nineteen years old, Princess of Wales absolutely miserable.

'She's a bit pale' 'She's ghastly thin'

My father had enemies, he was hated.

Therefore, so am I.

"Y/N darling, can you come to my office for a moment"

Sighing at the sound of my father's voice over the intercom, it was only the two of us. No mother, no siblings. There was a handful of staff. Maids, personal assistants, chefs and guards of the Royal.

Castle halls silent, barely a whisper could be heard and those weren't usually human.

Tapping of my heels sounded, ricocheting wall to wall.

Turning left down the hall, I knock twice before hearing a hushed 'enter'.

Globes widened at the guests accompanying father. Each turned to me, bowing out of respect.

Father stood from his thrown extending a hand chivalrously leading me to my seat.

Before us stood three men, dressed in crisp white shirts tucked into their charcoal trousers, matching suit jacket hung on set of broad shoulders open to peek the expensive leather belts. No doubt these suits took a certain wealth to own. Down to their polished to perfection shoes, like obsidian mirrors.

Each male intimidating in stature, plain utterly dull. Except one. Second in from the right, he aura beckoned arrogance, an inch taller than the rest muscles popping in the tight fitted attire. Listless silver locks trimmed, the exception of loose strands reaching his furrowed brows.

Pupils dilated swamped in mists of molten oceans, adding a sparkle to almost transparent skin.

He looked otherworldly, like I should be curtsying in his presence. Jaw hallmarking his facial features, a smirk resting on his thin lips. He was a masterpiece, almost hand drawn.

Father cleared his throat, summoning attention to his which he got instantly.

"Welcome gentlemen, I am honoured you accepted my invitation. As you know there's been threats to my self and my only child, recruiting you here will just strengthen the forces we already hold within the castle.."

Threats? What threats? My face Puzzled as I parted my lips to speak earning a warning glare from the king.

Princesses act accordingly. Graceful, ethereal and silent. Speak when spoken to.

"Y/N, you will have you own personal guard he will be based outside of you bed chambers all hours of the day unless you are elsewhere, the he will follow"

"Father, I hardly think that necessary"

"It's necessary if I say it is" Tone rounded and harsh, I knew to clamp my mouth shut.

"Now, please introduce yourself to Mr. Draco Malfoy.." Gesturing to the brooding blonde who graciously nodded dipping his head slightly as we locked gaze. "I assure she is safe in your care?"

Chuckling he replied, "No hands are safer than my own" Flitting my gaze to two vein laced hands, thick, strong and callous. Each knuckle bejewelled. Thighs rubbing together at the thought of those touching me .. He leaned towards me right palm out flat as I tentatively extended mine, a soft kiss placed ardently on my knuckles. Steel Steel contrasting with y/e/c "Pleasure to meet you, princess" Fluttering erupted in different locations.

As he pulled back only I caught the subtle wink, causing my mouth to dry and face to shade pink.

Fathers hands clasped together "Wonderful, The remaining are with me, darling go to your wing and study"

Thoughts ran wild knowing he was separated by flimsy wood, it's no secret Princesses are chastised until wedlock. Pure little trophy wives.

That doesn't pause erotic thoughts or wandering fingers.

She had to regain control.

Perhaps asserting her authority will subside the lingering heat.

Striding to the door Y/N swings it open eying the man "Could you go to the end of the hall, third buzzer down left of the wall summon the maids" Not waiting for a reply as she slammed the door to a close again.

Draco, gritted his teeth out of sight. Following the order, knowing all to well that princess needs a lesson in manners, a briefing in hierarchy although her status out ranks his - Malfoys always trump.

Give it time, her fall from grace will be oh so pleasing to the ego. That bitch will quiver under me soon enough.

Observing the her meals being brought at her beckon call, waiting for dusk to fall.

Draco's knuckle tap the door thrice, receiving no response any normal person would turn away, he entered without qualm.

Taking in the empty surroundings, her room not personalised the bare minimum filling it.

Spotting a slither of light cracking through a half open door steam seeping through. Smirking to himself he took a seat at the vanity, lurking in the shadows waiting for her to return. That's when he would establish the ground rules.

Lathering herself in almond butter suds allowing the aroma to overwhelm all senses, taking extra time to clean in between her thighs.

Y/N sauntered from the shower, cold air nipping her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. Wrapping an Egyptian towel around her body, taking time to brush her teeth along with a nightly skin routine.

Emerging into her bedroom, Y/N failed to see the figure laying in wait. Patiently sunken in the background hoping to catch her off guard.

Usually it's required to wear a silk knee length night dress, tonight was different Y/N reached in her lower draws for a oversized t shirt her back facing the dressing area. Where he slowly stood tall now, creeping up behind her.

Towel dropping to the floor bare to the seemingly empty space Y/N stretched her limbs over her head, allowing her neck to crack with a sigh. Gasping soon after when strong cold hands grasp her one placed of her hip, the other snaking up to wrap around her neck. Giant compared to her small frame. Screams built in her throat before being released, warm breaths hit her ear.

"Shh princess, we wouldn't want a false alarm now would we"

Tensing at the familiar raspy drawl.

"D-draco?" Pinching her eyes tightly shut, quaking in his hold.

"Am I that memorable little one?"

He was no-one made words sound as silky.

"W-Why are you here?"

Chuckling deeply as it vibrating through her.

"Sugar, don't act like you don't know what you do to me" Pushing his hardening length against the cushioning of her ass grunting in satisfaction of her squirming.

"Y-you shouldn't be in here"

"No?"

"N-no" Y/N stuttered ashamed of the arousal forming.

"You don't want me here princess?" Fake pouting, she felt nibbling at her lobe.

"I-I.."

"What would your father say if he saw you naked in front of you body guard hmm"

Blushing rising mortified at this position. Draco's grip loosened.

"Turn around from me baby, show me all of you" She did as he asked, stepping away and beginning to turn slowly arms Instinctively shielding herself. Earning a slow shake of the man's head "Don't cover yourself" Cautiously dropping her arms to her side.

Swallowing hard, praying her saliva would replenish.

"Fuck, you are gorgeous aren't you" It wasn't really a question more of a statement, allowing my eyes to meet his hungry ones. Fingers making quick work of the button down he wore.

Lower lip caged in his teeth.

"Tell me, do you want to be daddy's toy? My personal plaything hmm.." Striding with confidence towards her shell shocked form.

The ability to talk escaped her, as he twirl a piece of damp her around his rough tips. Titling forward breathing her in.

"Bloody hell, your dripping for me aren't you? I can smell it, pure, untouched" Clenching her thighs Y/N whimpered. "How pure are you kitty, is your sweet cunt untainted?"

Without thinking words blurted out "A- I'm a virgin - no-one has had me"

Growling in response Draco snatched her jaw forward Smashing his lips to Y/N, it was untamed, messy and damn right filthy. She had never done this before, he noticed calming to allow her to catch the rhythm. Roaming her body roughly, she moaned unaware her vocals could do such a thing. Using the gap to his advantage, his tongue entered her mouth forcing its way down her throat, making her gag.

Parting for air, he grinned knowing she played into his game.

"On the bed"

"Please, we shouldn't what if.." She felt off, like this could be a huge mistake.

"Getting caught part of the thrill love"

"B-but my father" A palm struck her cheek, as Draco hissed in response.

"Forget about your father, focus on your daddy"

Daddy? He is a bad bad man.

"Do you want the king to catch you? Being pounded, begging in pained pleasure by the very person sent to protect you"

"N-no sir" Fuck, that did it for Draco. It made him feel superior, older; which he was compared not by many years but enough to count.

Leading her backwards to the bed, palm reacquainting with her neck.

"By day she is a modest princess, heir to thrown a pinnacle of Innocence. Then night strikes and she craves to get a taste of bitter sweet cum, pussy torn to pieces the image of a filthy whore"

With that I was pushed onto the mattress body bouncing from the impact.

"On your back, legs spread" Shyness takes over, I can't possibly show him myself like that all open, yet I still parted them displaying my pussy.

He knelt between hovering over where I wanted him to be, using his middle and fore finger to edge back my lips. Groaning as his nose brushed my nub, settled back on his heels.

Gasping as he spat directly onto my heat following it with a slap on my clit. Wincing at the sting.

"You like that don't you?" Nodding, he smirked.

Y/N cunt glistened before Draco taunting his tongue to dive in. Without warning he slammed two fingers inside her tight walls, pacing at speed, covering Y/N mouth with his own, swallowing each cry.

"Shh.." He cooed "Now where is that special spot?" What does he .. oh shit. Curling up inside, back arching in the air "Jackpot" repeating these actions, plucking her nub in his lips gently sucking.

Chuckling at the reaction, Y/N head thrown back eyes snapped shut.

"P-please Draco, I-"

"Not my name try again" He mumbled against her.

"Ah, s-sir please" She said.

"Good girl" An odd sensation rose in her lower abdomen, Y/N touched herself before never feeling this. It was always pointless, the way he does it is fucking heavenly.

Whining, wiggling her hips as he pulled his fingers and face away. Suddenly feelings empty.

"Hush kitten, you'll be full to the brim in a minute" He hastily began stripping each item of clothing whilst she did nothing but enjoy.

Tracing his abs with lustful hues, anticipation killing her as he lowered his slacks letting them fall. Thumbs tucked in the waist band of his boxers, locking eyes with her own as he pulled them - holy fuck.

That is going to hurt.

Smugly, Draco raises a brow "Don't worry ill be slow, at first"

Heart rattling inside Y/N chest.

He crawled back up, capturing her lips again. As the swell of him line up. "Look at me" his knuckles brushed her clammy cheek bone. Slamming his tongue into her mouth, as she felt him breach her entrance.

Wincing at the stretch, he inched in letting her adjust. Nodding, moaning as he cursed at the warmth.

"More.. please more"

"As you wish" pulling out to just the tip he drove his hips into hers. Ploughing hard and fast, he was desperate so was she.

This was euphoric.

Bruising her skin with possessive grips, heavy pants and yells of sin filled the room.

Thank god, Y/N wing was unoccupied except her.

Palm slapping her cheek again, "Who's are you?"

"Y-Yours sir"

"Slut, giving a stranger her sacred virginity all it took was a few coaxing slurs" Sinister grin on his features.

Y/N pictured her first time to be sweet, with someone she loved. This right here it's degrading its uncouth and she fucking loves it.

"My needy girl, fuck you look so cute under me, so innocent, you look like your mine"

"S-sir I need to cum"

He shoved two fingers in her mouth, letting her suck them like a pacifier muffling her moans, as she cleaned the remnants of her juices off.

Draco's movements became slopping signalling he was close. Dragging his wet digits out her lips strings of spit connecting them. Pinching her chin in his hold tightly "Maybe I should watch you getting roughly handed by other Bodyguards right, one would stuff his cock in your mouth, the other ones is claiming your cunt, twisting your clit" He grunted loudly, causing Y/N to shiver eyes meeting her skull. "While I watch you in a distance jerking myself off, Would you like that princess?"

Y/N mouth gaped open sighing a 'yes' this angered the man, fist balling her mane. Causing her chin to meet her chest.

"Nah, every fucking inch of your filthy stained body is mine"

"S-sir can I cum?"

"Give it to me baby, let me feel you" His brows narrowed hiding his pleasure.

Y/N spasmed fluttering around his thick cock, bring a hand down Draco flick her clit fast.

The girl felt light headed, "Fuck, atta girl we have a squirter" She had no idea what that meant, the sheets below drenched with fluid. Draco seemed to enjoy what happened, rutting impossibly quicker.

"I want to fill you with my cum, watch it pour out your used cunt, not today though" Letting Y/N ride her high, once sure it was fulfilled he pulled out place his angry red tip at her lips.

"Open" Not fully entering he stroked himself in need, thighs twitching head thrown back, moaning. Spurts of cum landing in and around her gaped mouth.

Panting as he came down, grinning at the sight of the dumb fucked female.

He passionately kissed her moaning at his own taste.

After assuring Y/N was cleaned up, and not injured. Draco began dressing himself.

"This stays between us baby, I'll be back for more don't worry"

Y/N lay motionless and exhausted on her bed eyes fluttering closed. Placing a peck on the corner of her mouth.

Draco speaks "Would you do anything to please me?"

"Y-yes sir"

"Good, because you have two more holes I need to claim" She was alert again, two. Her mouth, what else is there .. Then it dawned on her.

"I'll have them all in one sitting, rest well"

With that the door shut.

Y/N was left in her thoughts. Thinking I'd do anything for him.

[thesleepy1]

Thank You For Making Him Smile

A/N: Anonymous asked for a Lambert fic. Pretty wholesome prompt compared to the last Lambert fic I wrote, lol. I love my angst but I'll try to keep this one light hearted. Scouts honor.

Pairings: Lambert x Reader

Summary: Lambert takes you to Kaer Morhen for the first time to meet his family. Suffice to say they aren't expecting you to bring out a better side in Lambert.

Word count: 1,683

Warnings: suggestive themes,

According to the stories Lambert told you, witchers were not known for their look of shock and surprise. It took a lot to catch a witcher off guard. Let alone a whole school of witchers. Apparently, their youngest bringing back a lover warranted a whole cloud of disbelief.

"Please, don't tell me you kidnapped some poor human," the eldest of the witchers remarked the moment you trailed in from the cold behind Lambert. Your witcher did not even have the chance to greet his family before all sets of eyes were on you, mouths gaping. Some were already making jests and jeers at Lambert, others were just confused as to why a human was following in Lambert’s wake.

The witcher of the hour looked irate to put things politely. He looked ready to do something worse than spit in someone’s tankard. His jaw was set and he glared at any gaze that lingered. A curse was hanging on the tip of his tongue, his fangs ready to sink into the first person who got too close.

Before an all out fight could begin, you embraced Lambert’s side and laid your chin on his shoulder. “Are you going to introduce me to your pack or are you too embarrassed to be seen with a lowly human?” you teased, giving Lambert a peck to his chin. His scowl lessened with the gentle kiss, eyes softening around the edges. His amber gaze settled on you like you were a jewel that had to be treasured.

Lambert’s arm came to wrap around your waist, his sag of personal belonging dropping onto the floor with a heavy thud. “That old fart is Vizimir and the pretty boy’s Geralt.” Lambert went on introducing you to the other witchers. You learned their names along with colorful insults some of which contained curses that you were not even aware of. When it was finally your turn to be introduced, there was no ill intent to be found from Lambert. His voice took on a low tone, something almost private despite the audience. He spoke of you far higher than you deserved. You were just a mere blacksmith in Redania but Lambert made you out to be the royal family’s personal armorer. You were no such thing but you could not help but soak up Lambert's praise.

*****

The other witchers took well to having a guest in the keep. You were afraid that everyday was going to be a battle to earn their respect but when you volunteered to help Eskel with supper that night, it seemed like you had won them over. Cooking was not your speciality but Eskel was a good teacher and you had brought along spices and herbs from the city and passing merchants. It may seem like a trivial thing to invest one’s coin in but some ginger root was the difference between dull slop and a gut warming bowl of stew.

And when the school of witchers had a taste of yours and Eskel’s meal, they had to agree. Lambert begged for seconds which was common, but you distinctly saw Coen sneaking spoonfuls from his neighbor. It was hilarious to be honest. These century old monster hunters fighting over food like some school children. You could almost imagine what the keep must have been like in its prime.

Hundreds of heads darting about. Boys and men of all ages coming in and out of the dining hall, the kitchens. You could see boys the same age as your little brothers fighting over who got the last of the baked sweets. You could imagine war tired witchers settling down next to the hearth. You could picture boys coming back from their first year on the path, stories and horrors to tell to the witcherlings.

These still living witchers breathed with the spirit of the old.

*****

“Do you know where Lambert ran off to?” Coen asked from the doorway of the armory. You had taken to the weathered room like a moth to a flame. There was a little cot and furs in the corner where you had refused to leave unless your work was finished. Lambert had taken to sleeping with you as well, the young witcher could almost always be found within an arm's distance of you.

“It's his turn to bring in firewood,” you informed Coen from your work table.

“Well, yes, I know it's his turn. I’ve been tasked to drag him outside,” Coen spoke as if this was an annual occurrence. “Do you know where I could find him?”

“Last I saw of him, he already had an ax to a fallen pine.”

“He what?” Coen’s surprise made you look up from your restoration of a battered chest piece. Your look of confusion must have thrown him off as well because before you knew it, he was standing right in front of you. “Repeat that. Please.”

“Lambert is outside,” you spoke slowly, feeling as if you had missed something.

“What do you mean he’s outside?”

Your brows furrowed, lips pursed in thought, “That’s where you get firewood around here, yes? Or do you just use your signs to warm up the keep?” You tilted your head. You surely saw logs in the fireplaces. Sure, the witchers started the fires with their signs but fire still needed something to feed on. “Lambert’s getting firewood as far as I know.”

Coen rubbed his face in disbelief. At what you were not sure of. “I’ve got to tell the others.” A grin stretched across his features that told of nothing good. “They won’t believe my words. Tell me, how did you convince him? Bribery? Insults? We’re tried them all and nothing has worked.”

You shrugged, at a loss to Coen’s reaction. “I only told him I was cold.”

*****

Late in the night after supper all the witchers cleared their tables and brought out the stores of ale. Tankards were shared as well as tales of monsters and monstrous humans. There must have been a class on storytelling because their recallings were captivating. You hung onto every word even when your eyes grew heavy and your mouth was filled with more yawns than sips of ale.

You leaned into Lambert’s side, the heat from the fire, ale, and Lambert’s body were nothing if not very soothing. Your head laid on his shoulder, hand resting on his thigh. “Sing to me, Lambchop,” you requested, voice barely above a whisper. In a dining hall of heightened senses, everyone heard. “Please, darling?”

The other witchers tried to be subtle as they lessened their talks and leaned towards you and Lambert. They weren’t fooling anyone but Lambert was not put off. He pulled you flush to his side, stubble scratching at your skin as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Lambert knew only a handful of songs, most centered around taverns and what sort of people to spend the night with, but he sang them anyway. His voice was low, pitch something of a mother’s lullaby despite its lyrics. The witchers held their breaths as the youngest of their ranks sang his lover into slumber.

*****

Nearing the end of the winter, you were pulled aside one morning on your way to the hot springs. You held onto your towel of soaps and oils possessively against your attacker. “Geralt, I thought I told you to purchase your own oils,” you scolded the pair of arms that tugged at you.

When you turned around to face more than your resident white haired witcher, you were baffled to say the least. “Do all of you expect me to give you my soaps? Don’t you have any of your own?”

Geralt was the one to speak for the group, although not eloquently. “No-yes, I mean,” Geralt cleared his throat. “No to your first question, yes to our hygiene.” You nodded, still skeptical as to why all the witchers were acting like they were guilty of some crime. “We just wanted to say thank you.”

“What for?”

“For bringing out a better side to Lambert. He’s never brought anyone to the keep before and we had feared that he never will. Lambert can be…”

“Difficult,” you finished for him, finally understanding what the witchers were getting at.

“Yes, to put it politely,” Coen piped in, another word for what Lambert was on the tip of his tongue.

“He’s not the easiest to get along with, but when he’s with you it's like the Lambert before all the terrible things that happened comes out.” A small smile that must have passed for a face altering grin passed Geralt’s face. “He’s playful and responsible, he sings with us again without being blackout drunk. Hell, he hasn’t been black out drunk since he got here and believe me when I say he had many chances.”

“You make him happy and for that we could not thank you enough,” Vizmir finished.

*****

Later, in the hot springs with your back resting on Lambert’s chest, you told Lambert of his family’s words. “They outright thanked me for making you yourself,” your tongue twisted on your words and Lambert kissed you until you could remedy your phrasing. “They were grateful that I made you Lambert.”

“But I’m already Lambert.”

You turned in your seat on Lambert’s lap. “Exactly, my dear. I didn’t do anything worth thanking.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lambert mused, thumb grazing your lower lip. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been. I think that warrants a thanks.”

“But it's not like it's a chore, Lambchop. I’m honored to make you smile.”

Lambert pulled you into a kiss, his tongue asking you ever so gently for permission. You gladly granted him entrance into your mouth. Your hands cradled his face like it was the most precious thing, your legs straddled his legs. His hands ran up and down your naked body, thick fingers pressing against your hips, your thighs, your arms, and anything else he could reach.

He parted only for you to catch your breath. Even then he pressed a chaste peck to your nose. “Either way, thank you.”

[adventures-with-ana]

— Hide ‘n’ Seek —

Guard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader/OFC // 6.761 18+ only, minors dni; typical royal ‘father owns his daughter’ crap, smut, fingering, hand job, loss of virginity

To protect his only daughter and heir from harm, the King has his hands full with finding her a guard. What happens when she falls for the latest one?

Every little girl in the world wanted to grow up to be a Princess.

Every Princess in the world wanted to grow up to be a regular girl.

I was of the mind that we should have an exchange program. I wanted nothing more than to be a regular girl with no responsibilities, no problems, no political agendas to abide by, no dignitaries and noblemen to please. I didn't want to be a Princess anymore, I never wanted to be one and the only perks to the title were all the beautiful gowns and exquisite jewels. Everything else sucked.

I wasn't allowed to do what I wanted to do, I wasn't allowed to wear what I wanted to wear, I wasn't allowed to leave the castle grounds. Being a Princess was not as freeing as a little common girl ever fantasized. My life was not my own. I belonged to my kingdom, to my father. I would have no say in my own life, not ever. Because when I stopped being a Princess, I would be Queen and the Queen had even less freedom than I did.

My mother was unhappy. She put on a good show of pretending, but I couldn't count all the times I'd been sneaking around the castle and caught her in her brief moments alone, crying. I did not want that life. I did not want to spend the only free time I ever had to myself crying my eyes out because my life was nothing, meant nothing, would amount to nothing. Unless I produced a male heir for whichever Prince I would inevitably be married to.

I had no brothers. I had no other siblings at all. It was just me and that meant that I was somehow both everything and nothing in the eyes of the kingdoms. I was not a person, I was a Princess and as a Princess my only worth was being able to be married off to an appropriate kingdom. And considering that arrangement alone could make or break my kingdom it was no wonder my parents always had a guard 'protecting' me.

Unfortunately for the guards, they were always brought in from outside the castle and I had spent over twenty years wandering these stone halls. I knew every brick, every hallway, every secret passage and private room in the place. When I wanted to disappear, I did so quickly and I had never, ever been caught.

Not until my newest guard was hired. (The last one quit. Oops.) I was summoned to the throne room by invitation of the King, which was a stupidly complicated way of saying 'hey, your dad wants to talk to you'. I pranced along with my messenger, he stayed silent and didn't rise to any of the bait I laid out for him. I tried questioning him on what was going on, why my father wanted me, and again what was going on. He refused to speak. He was trained too well. He and his entire family had worked my family for many generations. His great-great-grandfather was my great-great-grandfather's crier, and I assumed his children would be the same for my children. He didn't do so much as change the tone of his breathing. I hated him.

I entered the throne room, immediately being chastised because I did not bow to my father. I rolled my eyes. "What do you want, dad?" He absolutely hated that I refused to call him or my mother by their titles.

"We've hired you a new guard." my father replied, motioning for a man to step forward.

Finally, they did something fun. The guard was gorgeous. Taller than my father, broader than the last guy, hair as dark as tree bark, and eyes as blue as the sky. He wasn't dressed like a guard though, he looked more like an assassin. Canvas pants, sturdy boots, a skin tight vest of a material I didn't have a name for. Then there was the most shocking feature of this man: he had a metal arm. I'd heard of those types of advancements for men who'd lost their limbs in wars, gifts bestowed by permission of their Kings. I'd wondered which King bestowed him with such a gift of gleaming silver, and what he'd done to leave that kingdom for mine.

"Hi," I said to him, a bright smile on my lips.

He bowed, customarily. "Your Highness." Ooh, his voice was as lovely as his face.

"He will be accompanying you from now on." My father stated. I mentally corrected that he'd be following me until I could slip down a secret passage and run off. "You may go."

Excellent. We could get started right away. I nodded to my father, gave my mother an 'inappropriate' wave, and skipped off out of the throne room. My new guard was quick on his feet, and as silent as a ghost, too. I wondered how he managed that.

"You got a name?" I asked him as we walked along. I would make him feel comfortable first, make him think I would be a good girl and not ruin his life. And then I'd ruin his life.

"James." he replied. One word, very clipped. He wasn't a talker. Those were the most annoying ones.

"How boring." I replied with a snort. He didn't respond. "How about Jacob?" I offered. "Jacob is a nice name."

Silence. I sighed. I hated the ones who took their job too seriously. As we walked down the hall I abruptly turned right, wondering how many steps he'd have to back track to stay with me. The answer was none. He turned at the exact same moment I did, his facial expression not changing. He wore a mask of indifference.

I made my way to the library and threw myself on one of the comfortable couches there. My friends were present, sitting around and reading books while sipping on wine and eating berries. The epitome of decadence. I grabbed a wine glass and downed it in one gulp. My guard said nothing. His job was to protect me from other people, not prevent me from getting drunk.

"Who's that?" One of my Ladies asked. A woman of noble blood named Aileen.

"My new guard." I replied with a mock face of grumpiness that everyone always said reminded them of my father. "He's boring."

"He's cute." Another, Fiona, put in; eyeing my guard with a lustful expression. I took no mind of her, she looked at almost every male she saw that way.

I laughed. "He's much better looking than the last one." I didn't even look to see if that had affected his stoic demeanor. I couldn't let him know I was saying such things to try and get a reaction out of him, then he'd really never crack. "Though I think that one other I had might have been better looking."

"Steven?" Aileen offered.

"Samuel." I corrected. "Steven was your favorite."

"Is he as stupid as John was?" A newcomer added. I looked to see Hazel approaching with a stack of books in her arms. She did nothing but read and I didn't know that there was even a book left in the world that she hadn't read yet.

Everyone, minus James, cackled. "No one is as stupid as John was." Fiona said. "He didn't even last three days! And really, anyone who believes you'd be in the library when Prince Cameron was in the pool is beyond stupid."

Prince Cameron was sadly already betrothed to the Princess of another kingdom, but he was still very nice to look at. I enjoyed every time he and his father visited us for the Summer holiday. I just wished he hadn't been so committed to his duties as a Prince, or if he were to remain so committed that he would have broken off his engagement for me. Though I knew that would probably cause more harm than good.

Our conversation about my previous guards continued, and I wished James wasn't standing behind me so I could gauge his reaction to how many different names were mentioned. My ladies and I had signals though, looks or hand gestures that meant nothing to anyone else but told volumes between us four. According to them, James' expression never changed. He was just as stoic and put together as ever. That was okay, if he stuck around there would be plenty of time to chisel away at that exterior and see if I couldn't find out what was underneath it.

Days passed, then weeks and still James was stoic and silent. He answered in as few words as humanly possible when I asked him a question and didn't answer at all when anyone else spoke to him. I wondered how much my father was paying him for that. I also wondered, multiple times, where this man had come from and where he'd done his training because I hadn't been able to slip away from him yet.

I tried, valiantly, but he was always right there. Right behind me as if he could read my mind. Then I tried to enlist the help of one of my Ladies. Fiona distracted him for a moment and I slipped down one of the secret passages of the castle. Only to exit and find James standing there, frowning at me. I tried to give him my best smile but he was not amused.

"You won't get away from me so easily." he stated. That was a challenge and this man was about to find out that there was nothing I loved more than a good challenge.

He was good, I'll give him that, but when I really committed... I was better. I started slipping his tail easier and easier, and for longer periods of time. It was kind of fun. Once I had been running down a hall after escaping him and he stepped out of an alcove and caught me around the waist, picking me right up off my feet so fast they were still moving before I realized I wasn't going anywhere. I laughed as he set me back on the ground, but he was still as emotionless as ever.

That annoyed me more than anything. How could he live his life with no emotions? Did he show them when he slept? When no one was looking? Did he just not have any? I didn't know, but I made it my new mission to try and put some life back into him. I would run from him, only to then double back and sneak up behind him. Nothing. I spoke of inappropriate things when I was with my Ladies, and his face never changed. I threw a book at him from time to time, but he just caught every one. I threw a cupcake at him once, and laughed as he was splattered with frosting when his metal arm crushed it.

Nothing was working on him. Nothing until I was walking out of my room and ran right into him, falling on my ass and dumping a glass of juice all over myself. I gasped as I hit the floor, being drenched in my fresh drink. He turned to look at me and he actually cracked a smile.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" he asked, reaching a hand out for me.

I was not longer stunned because of the juice ruining my gown. I was stunned because his smile was beautiful. "You smiled!" I announced, and his stoic expression returned full force. I laughed anyway. "I knew you had an emotion!" I said, grabbing his hand only to then kick his legs out from under him. He crashed to the ground right along with me and I dissolved into a fit of giggles when he glared at me.

"That is not funny." he said.

I had to disagree. This was the funniest moment I'd had since James became my guard. "Oh come on James!" I taunted him as he picked himself up off the floor and glared down at me. "Live a little."

He did not offer me his hand again and I had to pick myself up off the floor. I made a quip about how my dress was ruined now, and took it off. He obediently turned around to avoid seeing me in my underclothes, and I stepped back into my room, leaving the dress on the floor as I went to my bathroom. My personal maid, Madison - or Maddie to me - followed me and started my bath as I stripped from my underclothes.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" she asked, gathering my soiled clothes and staring at the red stain seeping into them.

"I dropped my juice." I replied, stepping into the bath and letting the water fill up around me. "I ran into James."

She tittered quietly, excusing herself to take my soiled clothes to the laundry. I heard her greet James as she passed, but he did not respond, nor did he enter my room.

I realized that the key to getting James to show emotion was just happy accidents, natural occurrences. I couldn't plan or purposefully make attempts to break through to him, he was too good for that. Yet it was so hard to happen upon a natural disaster. Spilling my drink was a fluke and I spent weeks trying to figure out how to manipulate a similar incident, but nothing ever stuck.

Instead I went back to trying to escape from him. It worked better when I wore lighter dresses, so I opted to change my wardrobe up a little. Less petticoats, less bulky corsets. It made me feel like I was quicker, and it certainly helped me keep quiet when I slipped away. But James learned fast, and his own skills got better. He always caught me, and then he caught me faster, and then he started following me into my secret passages!

It was totally unfair. He couldn't know my secret places. I didn't want anyone else to be able to find me, to know where I'd gone when I disappeared. He tried to grab me a few times, calling after me as I slipped out of his reach and darted off again. The first time he caught me by the wrist he pleaded with me to stop, I stomped on his foot and ran off again. Then it kept happening, he kept catching me, and trying to reason with me, and staring at me with those gorgeous blue eyes that made it really hard to think.

Then he made the mistake of following me into a very narrow passage. He caught me by the waist then. "Please, Your Highness!" he pleaded. "You have to stop this." He was so close, and the walls were even closer. His breath hot on my face, his blue eyes icing over.

"I'm never going to stop." I replied, elbowing him in the ribs and taking off again.

Screw the natural accidents, this was the real fun. Him chasing me down, following me into cellars and empty rooms and secret hallways. Then I started leaving things behind for him. My shoes. My stockings. He found me in a small passageway once, trying to remove my petticoat, and he begged me to stop again. Saying he was just trying to protect me and he couldn't do that if I kept running away from him. His eyes were stern, but also pleading.

"I told you," I replied. "I'm never going to stop."

He stepped forward, pressing me into the wall and trapping me with his arms. His eyes melting into an intensity I'd never seen before. "Really?" He questioned. "Because you're not moving now."

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me. Wondered if he could feel my heart beating faster, harder. Could he see the sweat beading up on my neck? Could he sense the heat flushing my skin? Pooling in my stomach? No, not my stomach. Lower. I felt his gaze right in my bud. I wanted to break more rules, to see if I could get him to break them too.

I kneed him in the groin and when he fell back I ran. I ran fast and far, going to the one place no one had ever found me before, nor would ever find me now. It was a confusing path and I didn't make it often, but it was worth it. To be in my own secret spot, high in the castle and far from anyone and everyone else. Once it had probably been a storage room, but when I first stumbled upon it it had long been abandoned. All that was there now where things I had brought into it.

It took many years to build up my own personal sanctuary, but now it had books, candles, a mirror, and several bottles of liquor I'd stolen from our cellars. Most notably thought was the chaise lounge chair I had struggled with for almost three hours to get in there. I had to wait for a time when my parents were off visiting another kingdom and had taken the majority of the staff with them. It was my one and only window of opportunity and I took it, tearing the dress I had been wearing to shreds in the process. But it was worth it, to have a comfortable place to sit when I needed the escape.

I sat on it now, panting and trying to focus on more than the memory of James' body so close to mine, his eyes piercing right through my skin. It was unfair. Everything was unfair. Why did he have to be my guard? Why could he not have been a prince? Someone I could marry? Someone I could call my own? Why couldn't he have been fun? Less stoic, less dedicated to his job? Why would he try to pin me down when everything was impossible?

Maybe I should let him. Maybe I should see if he'd start breaking the rules, too. But maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd just tell my father. Maybe he'd just toy with me like all the noblemen's sons tried to before I came of age. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I had enough maybes.

I returned to the castle, seeking out my Ladies but not finding them until after James had found me again. He tried to demand where I'd gone. I refused to speak to him. See how much he liked being ignored. I whispered to my friends, taking great care to not be overheard as I told them of what happened with James and I in the passage.

To their credit, not a single one of them glanced over to him. They knew it wouldn't help, they knew it could ruin me and risk his life. But they looked at me excitedly. We had all spent alone time giggling and gushing over how gorgeous my guard was. How much fun it would be to break him down, get him out of those clothes, to see what that metal hand would feel like against our bare skin... We were all hopeless, me most of all.

"Do you think there's a chance?" Fiona asked, practically just mouthing the words to keep silent.

"Maybe." I replied. I leaned back in my chair and looked over to James. He was just as stoic as ever and I wondered what it would be like to break through to the real man underneath.

Our games continued for days. Me running off, him finding me. For awhile he stopped asking me to stop, he stopped saying anything. He would just catch up to me and fall into step behind me. Weeks passed and as the silence between James and I grew, my heart felt heavier. I had thought I was getting to him, the real him, and then I'd kneed him in the groin and ruined everything because I'd gotten scared.

Things were about to get so much worse, too. One evening at dinner, my father announced that a suitor had expressed interest in marrying me. My entire world crashed to the floor. Oh no, that was just my dinner plate.

"What?" I demanded, my voice much higher than usual.

"The Lernaean Prince has requested a meeting," My father explained. "He has finally decided to take a wife and he wishes to meet you."

"No!" I refused.

I felt tears of anger welling in my eyes as the realization that now nothing would ever happen with James and I. I had screwed up everything and now I'd never get to make it right. My father told me to control myself and act like a proper Princess. I threw my glass of wine across the room and ran from it. I wanted to run away, to leave the castle and disappear in to the woods. I wish I could, I wished I knew how to survive outside of these walls.

I heard James on my heels, he was walking too fast to stay silent now. I ran faster. Kicking off my shoes to silence my footfalls and darting into my secret passages. I thought I had out run him, I thought I'd taken the right turn at the right time and thrown him off, I thought I was safe so I collapsed against the cold stone floor and let myself cry. I had no one to blame for this but myself. I'd let myself get too wrapped up in James and then ruined everything as soon as I'd almost had him. I could have had him that day, I was sure of it. If I had just kissed him instead...

"Princess."

"No!" I cried, burying my face further into my dress. I didn't want him to see me like this, on the floor and crying.

James sat on the floor next to me. He said nothing, but I felt him at my side. The coolness from his metal arm almost indistinguishable from the cold of the stone wall at my back. I jumped as I felt his hand on my back, he rubbed it as if he were trying to soothe me and that hurt more.

"I'm sorry, Princess." he said quietly.

I turned my head to look at him, not caring that I probably looked like some hideous monster with my makeup running. He didn't seem to care either. "Why?" I asked him, choking back another sob.

"I know you like your freedom." he replied. "It's why you run, and now you can't." He tried to quirk his lips up in a smile, but it failed. "If it helps at all, I've heard stories of Lerna, and it's royal family. They're good people."

I wiped my eyes and sniffled, turning to face the wall across from us. "You're good people." I said. He didn't respond. "I'm sorry I kneed you." I added quietly.

He actually chuckled. I whipped my head back to look at him, and my heart clenched when I saw his smile. "I may have deserved it." he allowed.

I shook my head. "You didn't. I ruined everything when I did it." I said, looking down at my makeup stained dress.

I didn't see him move, but I felt his body move away from mine. I thought he'd leave me to be miserable and alone now, perhaps one of the last few times I'd ever get the luxury before being married off, but he didn't leave. He called to me, and when I looked he was holding his hand out. That was a brave move, considering that every time he'd done it before I'd kicked his legs out from under him. I couldn't do it today, I just took his hand and let him pull me to my feet.

He smiled his beautiful smile at me, and I wanted to cry again. His real hand cupped my cheek, wiping a stray tear. "It'll be okay, Princess. You'll be okay."

My Ladies tried to tell me the same things. Tried to be happy for me. Tried to help me pick the perfect gown to wear when I finally met the Prince of Lerna. It was hopeless. I didn't care. I wanted to wear the ugliest dress I could to meet him, wanted to make it so hard for him to want me that he'd change his mind. Wanted to ruin the meeting so my father would never again think to try and marry me off. It was a childish hope, an impossible dream.

The days ticked by slowly. It felt like years later, but only a week had passed before we got a letter sealed with the royal crest of Lerna informing us that the King, Queen, and Prince would arrive in a fortnight.

I ran more after that, but James let me. He knew he'd always catch up with me in the end. Sometimes I'd even drop things for him, to keep him coming. My shoes, my gloves - if I was wearing any, once I'd finally managed to drop my petticoat and when he caught up with me again he told me I should probably refrain from that kind of thing again.

I didn't listen. The day before the Lernaean royalty was set to arrive, I did worse. I left a trail of my clothes through all the passages that led to my secret tower. My shoes, my petticoats, my complete underclothes, and at the base of the last staircase to the tower I left my dress. I had nothing to fear here, there were no prying eyes. So I'd climbed the staircase stark naked and I waited.

"Y-your Highness," I'd never heard James sound so nervous as he knocked on the door to my secret room.

I stayed silent, but faced away from the door, looking out one of the windows. He'd only see my backside when he walked in, and he could make up his mind from there. Mine was already decided. I was not going to even meet this stupid Prince without getting what I wanted, and for months and months all I'd wanted was James.

I heard the door creak open quietly and I held my breath, staring out the window but not seeing a single thing. My senses were behind me, waiting for something, anything from James. I heard the door close, and I was afraid he'd seen my naked form and left; until I heard the lock slide home. He was silent. So silent I hadn't heard or sensed anything until I felt him right behind me.

"You probably shouldn't do this." he said quietly. His actions were the exact opposite of the warning though, brushing my hair back over my shoulder, exposing my neck. His lips felt like fire on my skin and I whimpered a little at the feel. Then my name fell from his lips, not my title, not 'Your Highness', my actual name and I felt myself melt.

I turned to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him. His lips felt so much better on mine than my neck. His arms slid around my body, the metal one feeling like ice, while his real one adding to the flames. I wanted to be closer to him, wanted to feel his skin on mine, wanted to be his before I'd ever have to be anyone else's.

My hands dropped from around his neck, trying to find where his vest came undone. It was impossible to find and I pushed him back. He looked ashamed for a moment, guilty, like I was pushing him away. "Take it off." I said before he could take up my role of running. He didn't, he just grabbed my hand and placed it on a zipper under his arm. I unzipped it myself, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the side.

Then his shirt, that one wasn't complicated. Just a simple white cloth shirt to protect his skin from the rough fabric of the vest. I gulped a little as his bare chest was exposed to me. He was fit and strong and his body was almost as mesmerizing as his face. I put my hands against his chest, he felt as sturdy as the walls of the castle, his heart hammering in his ribcage. I dug my fingertips into his skin, to make sure he was real. His breathing hitched when my hands dropped to his pants and I began to pull them open.

Next his hands were on my wrists, holding me, stopping me. I looked up at him with wide eyes. "Please," I breathed. "Please James. Don't make me be with someone I don't want first."

He released my wrists and instead cupped my cheeks, kissing me again. "I never thought you'd stop running."

"I always knew you'd catch me." I replied.

Nothing stopped us after that. I got him out of his pants, and his shoes. Then he was just in his underclothes and kissing me again, his hands roaming my naked body. I felt him lift and squeeze my breasts, tweaking my nipples, and inhaling every moan I made because of his actions. He pressed me against the cold wall of the room and another gasp left me as my heated skin was instantly cooled, my nipples hardening even more under his touch. I wasn't prepared for what happened next, for when his hand left my breast and travelled lower.

His fingers stroked my sex, teasing my bud. He pinched it and I yelped in pleasure, then his fingers slipped inside my body and I gasped, clinging to his shoulders for fear I'd fall over if I didn't. Part of me wondered if he'd done this to another woman, or other women; the other part of me didn't care because he was doing them to me, right now. Who cared about anyone else when he was making me feel like my body was coming undone from the inside out?

I felt my hips rocking down onto his fingers, meeting his movements and trying to get more, to feel more. I'd explored my own body before, but nothing had felt like this. This was so much better, so much more intense. I remembered being alone in my room and being afraid of the noises my body made because of the wetness between my legs, but when the sounds started again now I couldn't be afraid, because the second the noise started he gave me more. His fingers worked faster, harder. My fingers dug into his biceps, one warm and yielding, the other cold and unforgiving, as my toes started to curl, I tried to escape his fingers, trying to arch away from him but there was no escape.

I felt a ball of fire just out of reach of his fingers, but then they crooked, his fingers piercing that ball and I wailed; feeling my wetness drip to my thighs. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt and it left me panting. I looked at James, not blinking as I stared into his eyes; only a thin circle of blue remaining as the black centers widened. He picked me up then, his hands reaching around and under my butt, lifting me and taking me over to my lounge chair.

He leaned away and finally pulled his underclothes off. My eyes widened as he was revealed to me, the first naked man I'd ever seen. His member springing up and smacking his lower stomach. I didn't think it was rational, but I wanted to touch it. He'd touched me so it was only fair. Or so I told myself as he knelt on the chair in front of me and I reached for him. He gasped as my fingers came into contact with him, tracing along the length of it. It was soft, hot to the touch, and starting to leak. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

I had no idea what I was doing and he knew it, I needed his guidance; he clearly wasn't new to this. His hand covered mine as he guided me over the end of him, and then wrapped my fingers around the length in a circle. I squeezed a little, just to feel him, he stifled a small moan as he began to move my hand from base to tip and back again. He did it three times before I was doing it myself.

After a few minutes, he stopped me. "Stop, stop," he groaned, gripping the side of the chair like he might break it. I instantly pulled my hand away, apologizing like I'd done something wrong. "No," he breathed, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. "It was too good," he said. "Seeing you, sitting so pretty and stroking me," he exhaled out through his nose, unable to finish his sentence. "You're lucky," he said. "You can have more than one, I can't."

I'd heard about that part. Women could experience what I'd experienced with his fingers inside me again, and again, and again. Guys didn't get that gift. It was kind of unfair. I could experience that toe curling bliss endless times, but not him? I felt cheated, I wanted to make him feel that good as many times as he'd make me feel it.

"Let's make it a good one then." I told him, and was immediately pinned to the chair with him kissing me like the castle was going to collapse with us in it.

I kissed him back, moving where he wanted me to as he spread my legs apart and guided his length between them. He rubbed himself against me, covering himself in my wetness, and pausing with the tip of his length pressed against me.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm not running anymore."

With that he slid into my body and I whimpered at the feeling. It hurt, but it wasn't horrible; like when he'd pinched my nipples. Painful, but pleasurable, too. He was careful, or maybe just savoring the fact that he was ruining me; taking the innocence I so willingly handed over to him. I watched him disappear into my body, once, twice, three times. I was amazed that everything I'd had in my hand could even fit into my body, but it did and it felt better than anything I'd ever experienced before.

I moaned as his hips got faster, his thrusts harder. Wondering why the hell anyone ever tried to tell a woman this was wrong , that it should only be done with your husband, that doing it without being married wasn't acceptable. This was incredible, he was incredible, and pretty soon I was clinging to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He moaned as I did and it was the most beautiful sound, I leaned up to kiss him as I did it again.

"Oh, oh," I moaned, gasping as his hips snapped into mine. I felt my toes curling again. "Yes," I panted. "Yes, James, oh James..."

Saying his name like that sent us both over the edge. My toes curled, my nails dug crescents into his shoulders until a couple drew blood, and I felt every part of him tense. Then there was a pressure between my legs, and he grunted at the same time that I felt him twitch inside me, filling me until it dripped onto my chair as he pulled out.

I felt tingly and like I was floating on air, hovering above the chair instead of laying back on it. "I'm never gonna feel this good again." I stated. I had no doubt in my mind. No one else would ever make me feel like this. Not myself, not another man, and definitely not that Prince of Lerna; whoever the hell he was.

James chuckled as he sat back against the side of the chair, looking over my naked body like he was trying to memorize it. I knew the feeling. After tomorrow, who knows what my life would turn into, who knows when - or if - we'd ever see each other again. "I hope that's not true." he said sincerely. "I hope whoever gets the honor of having you for the rest of their life makes you feel perfect all the time."

I waited until we were fully dressed and I was back in my room to cry. Once again I found myself hating being born as what I was. Why did I have to end up here? In a life I couldn't live myself? I wanted to be regular, to be a commoner who at least had the freedom to be with whoever she wanted to be with, to be the only one in charge of who she married, to not be married off to form an alliance. I was a treaty waiting to be made, and tomorrow a potential partner was going to march through the front doors of my home and size me up like a goat at the market.

First I had to get through dinner though, and dinner brought the worst news I'd ever hear. James would no longer be my guard after tonight. I didn't think that was fair. What if the Prince of Lerna didn't want me? I was going to lose James without even the guarantee of a marriage? I was suddenly so glad I'd been with him in every way possible earlier. I knew it had been my last chance to be with him, but I didn't think it would have been my last chance to ever see him again.

I said goodnight to James that night, in the privacy of my own room. We didn't have sex again, we couldn't risk it, but he did kiss me. Just once. It was a heartbreaking kind of kiss, one I knew I'd never get again.

"You'll be okay, Princess." he said, kissing my forehead before getting up. "You'll be okay." And then he was gone and I cried myself to sleep.

The next morning my maids and Ladies woke me. Today was a special day and everyone was coming together to get me ready to present myself to the Lernaean royal family. I was bathed, dried, brushed, dressed and painted by other people. I zoned out through most of it, not caring, not wanting any of it. When everything was done and I was ready, my mother entered with my proper tiara. I hated wearing it, it felt like it weighed my head down. And not in a metaphorical kind of way, it was just really heavy.

"You look beautiful, darling." My mother told me as she secured the tiara into my hair.

We all exited the room together. My mom and I in the lead, followed by her Ladies (who'd waited outside my room for her), then my own Ladies, and bringing up the rear - until they branched off to their other duties - were my maids. Mother and I lead on, through the corridors and to the throne room. This is where we would wait for our guests, for the man who could potentially deem me a worthy wife and take me from my home, my family.

My mother said we would enjoy breakfast with our guests, who were just arriving now. That was the only thing I looked forward to, food. I stupidly looked behind me after a moment, my eyes searching for James until I remembered he had been dismissed the night before. I turned back around, my eyes on the ground as a crier came to announce the arrival of my father and the Lernaean royal family.

My father approached his throne, and I felt his mood before he'd even spoken. Something was off, he was agitated; proven when he introduced my mother and I to the Lernaeans. I curtsied on cue, but did not raise my eyes to look at any of them. I didn't care.

Unfortunately someone approached me. I could see their shoes, stupid and shiny; just like my fathers. My mother poked me in the back, a command to raise my eyes and look at whoever was there. My father introducing me again before telling me to greet the Prince. I sighed quietly slowly raising my eyes to take in the stupidly well tailored royal uniform, the stupidly well decorated breast of his jacket, the stupid collar of his shirt. Then I finally had to look to his stupid face, and I gasped.

It was James.

[tiredsunrisesmeta]

On Viren, Evil Queens & Queer Coded Villains

In an interview with Cartoon Universe titled Season 3, Runaans Plan, and Aaravos Speech! The Dragon Prince Interview with Creators, Aaron Ehasz and Justin Richmond, talked about how an early concept for The Dragon Prince that they played with was the idea of “not evil step mother” (around the 26:35 mark).

This could relate to the creators’ desires to showcase non-traditional families and not to demonize stepparents. Harrow, for example, while keeping an unfortunate distance from Callum, is a loving stepdad. However, so far in The Dragon Prince we haven’t encountered a stepmother, good or evil. My theory is that “not an evil stepmother” relates to Viren.

In many ways, Viren epitomizes the evil queen/evil stepmother archetype. In fact, there are numerous scenes and aspects of Viren that directly parallel famous evil queens and stepmothers. Here are just some of the examples:

1.     Like the Evil Queen in Snow White Viren has a magic mirror that he demands answers from. Mysterious all-knowing beings inside the mirrors answer back.

2.     Viren orders his own “huntsman” (Soren) to kill a royal heir (Ezran) that has a deep connection to animals. Soren like the Huntsman can’t bring himself to kill the young royal. 

3.     Viren's green voice stealing spell is an obvious reference to Ursula's voice stealing spell in The Little Mermaid.

4.     Like Mother Gothel in Tangled and Queen Ravenna in Snow White and the Huntsman, Viren hides his true appearance (which is “ugly” and scary) with glamour magic where he takes the life force of younger, beautiful beings and uses them to keep an attractive appearance.

5.     Viren also shares visual similarities with the Evil Queen, Cinderella’s stepmother and Maleficent such as their circle jewel pendant, dramatic collar, black and purple colors, staffs, their scowls, postures, & attitudes.

6.     Like Cinderella’s stepmother Viren has two children that are kind of dopes & are sometimes mean to the princes. He expects a lot from them.

7.     Viren's magic is often visually like evil queens' magic, both are presented as dark & disturbing. 

8.     Like Viren, evil queens make magic with suspicious, “disgusting” ingredients & cast spells w/ staffs. Both seem to take from nature & threaten & exploit youthful & natural "innocence."

I would argue that Viren was the “not evil stepmother” that was one of the starting ideas behind The Dragon Prince. He’s technically not one because he’s a man. But he embodies the role in significant ways. For me, this is another layer that adds to Viren’s queer coding. (If you want to read the other parts of my Viren is Queer analysis, you can read them here (Part 1) and here (Part 2). Here’s why:

Evil queens & villains specifically in Disney films have over time been adopted by the LGBTQ+ community. Intentional or not these characters are popularly thought of as queer coded or as having queer appeal. In his book Tinker Belles and Evil Queens: The Walt Disney Company from the Inside Out, Sean Griffin writes "gay culture seems to have a special fondness for Disney villainy. [...] the number of gay men who dress in drag as Disney villains for costume parties or for Halloween testifies to the attraction that these characters have in gay culture". 

Griffin posits that there are two reasons why queer audiences gravitate towards these villains. The first reason is the exaggerated, unconventional way villains perform their gender in contrast to the more traditional gender performances of the heroes. They bring attention to gender itself as performance & thus take on qualities of camp & drag. This connection to drag was made explicit in Disney's The Little Mermaid when it's villain Ursula was modeled after the famous drag queen Divine.

Female villains like evil queens & stepmothers often have strong sharp facial and body features in contrast to the heroine's soft features. They wear visible makeup as opposed to the heroines’ more "natural" beauty. They are audacious, sassy, powerful & imposing in contrast to the more demure, modest heroines. Many evil queens are motivated by the pursuit of beauty that remains out of their reach such as the Evil Queen, Ursula, & Mother Gothel. While Viren isn’t motivated by the pursuit of beauty, vanity and physical appearance are important enough to his character to warrant nods such as his glamour spells, obsession with mirrors & fancy clothes, almost as if the show is aware of the tradition Viren borrows from.

The camp & the theatricality of gender expression of male Disney villains are often shown via their archness, sassiness, foppishness, particularly fancy sense of style, & impeccable overly cultured manners, speech & mannerisms. They're often "represented as using their cultured dandyism to hide their evil design[s]". Viren borrows heavily from Jafar & Scar. Jafar & Viren both have magic staffs, snake motifs, and even have parrots in common. Like Jafar, Viren is his monarch's most trusted magical advisor who ultimately betrays him. Like Scar, Viren is a usurper. Griffin writes "Both [Scar & Jafar] are overly refined, fey and seething with frustration for feeling that their talents and abilities have been overlooked." That’s literally Viren! Scar & Jafar were notably designed by out gay character designer Andreas Deja. Griffin writes that in an interview "Deja admits to conceiving of [Jafar] as a gay man “to give him his theatrical quality, his elegance.” It is these characters’ qualities & legacies that Viren borrows from.

Griffin writes "Traditionally, Disney’s animated villains move and speak with enormous style and panache—so much so that they often “steal” the scenes from the supposed leading characters in the stories. In this way, they more overtly “overperform” their gender roles and readily become the targets of camp readings." I would argue Viren fits this description. He too can be audacious, imposing, & occasionally sassy. He's impeccably well dressed (Amaya even derisively comments on the fanciness of his clothes) & seemingly impeccably well mannered. Theatricality & performance play into Viren’s role as a manipulator and persuader. He uses his panache, speech, & manners to seduce people to his point of view or at least he tries to. This contrasts him against the earnestness of the heroes.

This takes us to the second reason why queer audiences gravitate & identify with Disney villains. According to Griffin "on a more basic level, gay culture’s appreciation of Disney villains is a humorous cheering on of those forces within the narrative that disrupt and frustrate heterosexuality’s dominance.”

Examples of this are Evil Queens trying to separate young heterosexual couples such as Ursula & Mother Gothel. Griffin uses Maleficent as an example: "Sleeping Beauty’s Maleficent actively works to spoil two generations of heterosexual coupling. […] During [the] overtly narrated introduction, strong emphasis is placed on procreation, particularly on the king and queen’s difficulties in having a child. The story proper begins with the countrywide celebration of the birth of the princess Aurora. When Maleficent arrives, she is informed quite bluntly that she is “not wanted.” Maleficent retaliates by placing a death sentence on the child to be fulfilled on her sixteenth birthday. In this way, she attempts to take away the procreative success of the king and queen and kill the princess just at the moment when she herself would be about to explore heterosexual courtship."

Similarly, Jafar actively tries to separate Aladdin & Jasmine as opposed to the benevolent campy & queer coded Genie who uses his powers to bring Aladdin & Jasmine together. Of Scar, Griffin writes: "The most obvious gay figure in the film is the villainous lion Scar, voiced by Jeremy Irons, who archly portrays a physically weak male who makes up for his lack of sheer strength with catty remarks and invidious plotting. Animated by Deja, the character fairly swishes, disdaining the concept of the heterosexual family in his attempt to usurp the throne for himself." Scar "refuses to support the heterosexual patriarchy that Simba and his father represent" & challenges its dominance by killing the patriarch Mufasa & preventing Simba from gaining his rightful place on the throne with Nala as his queen by his side. Scar is contrasted by Zazu, Timone, & Pumba (all campy & queer coded too) who support Simba's divine right to rule.

So how does Viren "disrupt and frustrate heterosexuality’s dominance" when he himself used to have a wife & has two children? Firstly, he is a divorced single father. While that in of itself does not code him as queer it does preclude him from the ideal patriarchal, heterosexual nuclear family. It also complicates Viren’s status & role within Katolis Castle in relation to King Harrow (a single father himself) & his family. In Callum’s Spellbook, Callum writes “Lord Viren and his children, Claudia and Soren, were kind of like my second family.” Thus, once Queen Sarai dies, Viren becomes the only other quasi parental figure to Callum and Ezran & becomes the closest adult to Harrow living in the castle. Viren is placed in a unique position that is much like a “stepmother”. (I suspect this subtext is one of the reasons why the theory that Viren murdered Sarai persists despite little evidence for it).

If looked through the narrative framework of the evil queen/stepmother trope, Viren and Harrow’s relationship takes on a symbolically queer quality. Viren essentially acts as Harrow’s second “wife” and second “queen”. Their families co-inhabit the castle & Viren has ready access to Harrow’s private rooms and occupies them with familiarity. In their first scene, Viren enters Harrow’s bedroom & wakes him. He is the first-person Harrow sees when he wakes up, symbolic of how a wife would be the first person a husband sees upon waking, or how Sarai used to be the first person Harrow saw.

What really drives home Viren occupying the archetypical role of evil queen/stepmother is how Viren connects with queens in The Dragon Prince itself. In flashbacks, Viren’s story connects him tragically to the queens of Duren who he tried but failed to save & to Queen Sarai who saved him at the cost of her life. He lives, they die. Viren carries out their legacy when he casts the Magma Titan Heart spell & ends the famine. Later in the narrative Viren is challenged by Queen Aanya & the Sunfire queen.

The parallels and connections between Viren and Queen Sarai are the most telling (In addition to the parallels I explore in my other analysis). The first parallel is in their respective first scenes. In her first scene, Sarai stands on a balcony alongside a newly coronated Harrow, looking out at the citizens of Katolis. The King and Queen gaze upon their shared kingdom. Similarly, by the end of Viren’s first scene he too stands on a balcony alongside Harrow as they look out at the land of Katolis, like two co-rulers. 

The second parallel is that both Viren and Sarai pose for portraits with Harrow. Sarai's portrait is an intimate, family portrait but a subtly royal one. They pose on a dais between their respective thrones, clear symbols of royal power. For the second more official portrait, Harrow invites Viren to join in on this expression of royal power by inviting him on to the dais, between the same two thrones. When Sarai leaves the throne room with her children, Viren bows to her then takes up her place beside Harrow (though on the left side as opposed to Sarai being on the right). Viren becomes more than a servant, he visually takes on the role of co-ruler and co-royal, the role of a Queen.

After Harrow’s death Viren further frustrates heterosexual dominance by becoming a usurper. Traditionally, evil queens/stepmothers are framed as usurping the role of queen and mother from the protagonist’s biological, dead mother. When their husbands/kings die, they take sole control & power of their kingdom/household, power that is not "rightfully theirs".

Viren becomes a usurper when he tries to get himself coronated as regent (& later takes the crown in Book 3) and attempts to have the princes assassinated. Furthermore, he tells Soren that he will be next in line and will become king once Viren is dead. Viren is essentially making his children the heirs of Harrow instead of Harrow’s own child with Sarai. He spoils & challenges the concept of heterosexual marriage & family much like many evil queens & figures like Scar & Jafar. It's a rather uncomfortable, potentially homophobic trope if presented at face value with no subversion. This discomfort extends to Viren’s "death".

Disney villains that transgress & disrupt traditional idealizations of gender & sexuality are almost always defeated by young heterosexual love. It is no coincidence that Viren’s “death” has many of the same tropes as Evil Queen deaths. He falls to his death like the Evil Queen, Maleficent, and Mother Gothel. In the face of their deaths Snow White & The Prince ride off into the sunset. Aurora & Prince Philip dance the night away. Rapunzel & Eugene fight off Mother Gothel, save each other & kiss. Similarly, Rayla goes down with Viren off a cliff (just prior Viren was consuming the lifeforce of an innocent baby with the help of Aaravos, with whom he has a coded & charged relationship). Callum saves Rayla by declaring his love & unlocking a new magic flying ability all while Viren plunges to his death. Rayla declares her love too & they share a kiss. Young heterosexual love triumphs yet again.

In most fairy tale media this is the end for the Evil Queen. But The Dragon Prince subverts this by reviving Viren which opens the possibility of a new direction for his character. Ultimately, there's a reason why a sizeable part of the self-proclaimed Viren fandom tend to interpret Viren as bisexual, gay, or queer. His character borrows heavily from a history & tradition of queer coded villainy. Hopefully, this unique queer appeal of Viren is still a part of him & his story in the next seasons.

[doubledgesword-2]

Gilded Cage- Yandere!Sukuna x Reader- Historical AU

This is something I kept in my folder for a while because I wasn't sure it was a story ya'll would like, but after finishing the show and watching the movie, I'm going all in. Enjoy this coffee!

Birds can only fly so far from their gilded cages, clipped wings and all that

The village would rather suffer the wrath of a king than give away their precious daughters. So when the king came bursting quite literally through the front gates and demanded to be given a sacrificial bride in return for their safety, they panicked.

Being small-minded meant there weren’t many options when it came to expendable women amidst their own. So that left you, the kindhearted, wide eye girl with a green thumb. You lived in the outskirts of the village closer to the green of the forest. Your little house wasn’t grand, but it had everything you needed, and it was home.

This house wasn’t all nasty with mud tracked everywhere and overgrown nature. Of course not, it was your house which meant nature went where you led it and it was allowed to expand in all its glory making everything look beautiful. You had wind chimes and a small well. There were some chickens here and there that made their nest wherever they pleased and would occasionally tear your flowers for it, but the eggs were worth it. They were good for trade.

You would often go into town to trade herbs, produce, flowers, and eggs for other goods you couldn’t produce. And you thought it weird when the townspeople rushed to your stand and bought everything you had. They were very kind and not shy to spend their money on what you offered. But their overflowing kindness left you oddly suspicious.

You returned home that night, leaving your shoes and woven basket by the door, and entered your home to be apprehended out of nowhere. The village’s chiefs gathered around you and made an anonymous choice, you would do fine for the king.

They thought themselves clever, in their little heads if they gave you away dressed in the finest silks and adorned with the most beautiful of jewels, the king would be none the wiser to your actual status.

So they went through with their machinations, bathing you and lathering you with scented oils. The ladies dressed you and gave you their thanks for saving their daughters, not minding the tears that ran occasionally down your cheeks. They adorned your hair with a delicate hairpin and placed a ruby necklace around your neck to match.

Once they were done, they led you to the mirror and you watched yourself transform from the hard-working, dirt under your nails and clothes girl to a royal. You didn’t have enough time to process and cry for your dignity when the doors opened and the chiefs came forward. The king had come.

They guided you to the front gates, telling you to keep your head low, mouth shut, and be as submissive as the kind would want you. You obeyed mostly because you didn’t feel like talking or looking into the eyes of the king with gleaming fire.

The king was fairly easy to please, he gave you a once over, eyes glinting with pure malice as he licked his lips. A black nail tapped your cheek, and you tried your best to not visibly flinch.

He chuckled darkly “I’ll take her. Your village can expect to be safe, for now,” Suddenly you were picked up and draped over a shoulder like a sack of rice and carried far from your village’s red front gates.

As you swayed, his shoulder digging into your stomach you tried to keep yourself awake. Surely, he would want to perform some sort of marital ceremony and such. You knew royal men to be insatiable more so even after denied consent. The thought of him asking you to do your wifely duties frightened you. Your stomach was churning with nerves and you couldn’t help but sweat cold at the feeling of the journey. Nausea bubbled at the mouth of your stomach and before you could tap his shoulder to be let down, you had arrived at his temple of bones.

Despite the stories and the overall eerie aura of the place, his estate was regal and very well maintained.

He dropped you at the bottom of his throne, climbing without care to the top and comfortably sitting down. On your knees, you looked around as if expecting the room to be filled with people ready to watch the spectacle. But there was no one but the two of you.

Meanwhile, you felt his cold stare on the side of your face. Sukuna was assessing you. He knew what he wanted, and he knew the petty villagers had thought him a fool. Sukuna knew you weren’t the finest wine in the wooden crate but there was something different about you that he didn’t care to explore at the moment. The same way a spoiled child may want a toy he may as well never use, Sukuna felt content watching you be scared, out of wits, and kneeling before his throne. He saw you tremble in a dress you were probably not used to wearing, trying to play a part he knew you didn’t even rehearse. Someone knowing their place would’ve already sucked him dry and begged for more not because they wanted but because of who he was.

Two servants came over carrying trays filled with food and alcohol. They placed the trays in front of you and as they did you noticed their markings; they were curses. You didn’t know much about them but being human left you vulnerable. So, you kept your eyes down and looked at the trays.

Unimpressed and bored, he scoffed and humphed taking a bottle of the served sake, and exited the throne room leaving you kneeling on the ground and completely alone. You counted your blessings letting out a breath you didn’t even realize were holding.

Standing with a little trouble and almost ripping the beautiful kimono, you paced the halls of the estate almost lost. There were no servants to guide you and it was a bit awkward when you passed one of the rooms and heard the moaning and grunting of pleasure. Not to mention the door was slightly rocking to the beat of his hips. You shuddered and passed by quickly leaving the area and finding yourself in the farthest corner of the estate. The place was eerie and almost looked unkept like no one dared venture to this side. But nature had taken its roots deeply into the place, making it look quite beautiful to the correct eyes. You felt at peace here and so you decided this would be the place you’d be staying. The king wouldn’t mind he had many concubines at the ready, what was one less.

You found a room covered with a thin layer of dust and got to work on cleaning as much as you could. The place had everything you needed just like your little cottage. You dusted the futon and promised to wash the sheets tomorrow. You felt the guilt boil within your chest as you ripped your kimono and used it to clean around.

As the days passed you had the place cleaned and fit for living. You were content that he didn’t even care or noticed how you weren’t present. It was for the better. This part of the estate had its shoji screen and doors ripped so you could see the unkempt garden outside and it was perfect to let the breeze in during the night.

Life seemed to be smiling at you for once. That is until a cursed servant found your little spot. She had actually been looking for you out of curiosity. The young curse had never seen anyone survive a rejection from the king, but not only did you survive you were thriving in this forgotten spot.

You were sitting on the ledge of the balcony, one leg hanging outside and the other propped on the side. A small cup of tea was in your hand, hanging as your arm rested on your propped leg. There was a small tea set on the ground. You were enjoying the morning mist when you heard the creak of the wood. Eyes snapped to the hallway door.

“Oh, hello there” you called to the young girl as she hid behind the hallway wall “are you lost? Do you work here? You can come inside you know”

The young girl walked into the room. You weren’t at all like the other women living in the estate. You were kind and gentle, not at all interested in the king or his riches.

“What are you called?” You asked with a smile.

“I have no name, miss”

“Well, would you like one?” She nodded

“Then how about Tian” The curse nodded, and you invited her to drink tea with you.

After that, she came over almost every day. She helped you around even though you didn’t make many messes.

But then one day the king strolled by the garden, and he heard the two of you laughing. The sound irritated his ears and he approached to see you giggling at the curse as you taught her how to correctly cut the plants so they would grow. For a moment Sukuna didn’t even remember you, he thought you were just another servant. But then as he looked closer, he saw the resemblance to the girl he had left behind on the night of the sacrifice.

The thought of your village burning brought a smile to his lips. You didn’t even know about it so perhaps it was time to be called to his room.

Yet he never did, like panther hiding in plain sight he bided his time watching you live.

Sukuna would always come by this side of the estate to hear you laugh with his curse servant, how gently you instructed them to plant the seeds, how you would sometimes hum on cold nights drinking tea by the broken shoji screen. He found himself liking this little piece of bliss. You were his secret. The domesticity he got from being near you was something he couldn’t get with the other women. They were too obedient, trained to be submissive and to not think beyond his needs. You amused him and he wanted to indulge.

That’s how you found yourself needing some supplies and the only way to get them was to ask the king himself. But the problem was you were never called because, in your mind, he didn’t even know you still existed. So, you donned your best clothes and walked to the throne room. It was always eerie and anxiety-inducing every time you walked the halls. It felt like eyes were watching your every move. As you reached the throne room you heard giggling coming from inside. He must be with one of the other girls. You took a long breath and knocked on the doors. But no one answered. Even so, the giggling intensified. You knocked once more. And you could swear the nearby servants were laughing at your obliviousness. They were definitely going to clean your entrails from the ground when this was over.

But the doors opened and there he was sitting in his throne of bones and blood. There were two women beside him, one on his side and the other kneeling in between his legs both with their breasts exposed and their clothes askew. Sukuna grinned when he saw you enter, you were dressed in a red kimono hair flowing behind you freely. It was simple but you stood out and he wasn’t certain if it was in a good way. His eyes trailed from your covered chest following the outlines of your curves. He licked his lips, staring straight at the motion of your hips as you walked towards him. When you reached him, you bowed at the steps to the throne.

“Speak idiot and do it quickly I’m busy” you were stunned by his brashness.

“My king, I wish for supplies to be delivered on the west wing of your estate” he laughed loudly when you finished, the women on his sides giggled too “supplies? Are you not well-tended that you feel the need to ask for more? How greedy” your blood boiled, and he knew it. “There will be no supplies, and if you’re not here to serve me you best leave quick before I gobble you up”

“My king, I am not attended by the servants, this humble concubine wishes only the mercy that you wish to provide for her” you kneeled further into the ground.

“Hmmm” he smirked “very well, if you insist, I will consider your offer”

Your face lifted and you smiled graciously at him.

“Only after I’ve fucked every and each one of my concubines until dusk” the thank you disappeared from your lips the moment he said that.

“Very well. Please exc- “

“I’m not done, idiot. You will remain here, kneeling where you are until I’m done”

Your face falling was the funniest thing he had seen in a while. Sukuna was expecting you to protest and give him a reason to kill you even though he didn’t need one. But he wanted justification for messing up such a pretty sight.

“Very well” your approval stunned him for a split second before he grinned and asked one of the servants to bring all of his concubines one by one.

It was a long day of you kneeling, hearing moaning and groaning as they both finished each other. Your knees hurt and your legs cramped, and you could swear some of their liquids splashed you once or twice. The king was insatiable as he finished with the women like they were drinks presented to him. You couldn’t deny the slight arousal that you felt, their dirty talking and slapping of skin did get you winded once or twice, but then you remembered the annoyance and the anger of being rejected by him in the first place and it was enough to keep you strong.

When the last girl wobbled downstairs and tripped on her way out of the throne. You looked up to him. The bastard didn’t even look winded. He wore a smug satisfaction like he had enjoyed a feast and was full and content. Sukuna looked down at you in satisfaction seeing you kneeling there all obedient and submissive yet the fire behind your eyes never died down.

“Well?” His voice surprised you after the silence that finally graced the room.

“My king?”

“What are you waiting for you idiot? Get here” Your brows scrunched up in confusion and you stood wobbling after being in the same position for so long.

“I don’t un- “

“I said I would grant your wish after I fucked all of my concubines” you nodded looking to the door to see that the last one had indeed just left. Your eyes stayed on the door to see if another would come through “but there’s still one more left” his breath tickled your neck, your hair lightly moving as he nuzzled the back of your neck.

You stiffened and moved a bit farther away from his touch. You kneeled once more, this time at his feet.

“M-my king, I am not a noble nor am I worthy of you”

You hoped he bought that and would leave you alone, but his chuckles told you otherwise.

“You fool, do you really think I care for those measly titles. Blood means nothing to me as long as it’s going down my throat” you felt him grip your chin and lift it to meet his eyes “and even then, I don’t care” His hand held the back of your head as his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss caught you by surprise stunning you, but the moment you registered what was happening, you pushed at his chest.

“You seem to forget who you belong to, and I will gladly remind you” Sukuna grabbed your hair lifting you until you were standing, he then grabbed your waist and hoisted you upon his shoulder like the day he took you and carried you away from the throne room.

“Please, please I didn’t mean to anger you, my king, I merely wish for a blanket for the winter days to come. Please”

He laughed still carrying you and holding you tight.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be warm enough after I’m done with you” the doors to his room opened and he dropped you on his bed. A big luxurious one propped on a small wooden platform to rise two feet above the ground, the white futon was surrounded by curtains that draped from the ceiling and made you feel imprisoned. You scurried away from the edge tripping on your kimono as you did. Your body clumsily went sideways, as you struggled with your kimono.

Sukuna stood by the edge inspecting your trembling form. He then kneeled into the futon bed, one hand grabbing your ankle and pulling you towards him. His other hand fiddled with the collar of your kimono, and a third one held your shoulder keeping you trembling like a scared cornered kitten.

“I always figured this fine silky crap didn’t fit you. You’re not meant to wear them” He whispered almost to himself and that made you look up at him.

His hand caressed your cheek, cupping your face and rubbing circles under your eye. The motions made you shake on the spot even more and he couldn’t help the low chuckle.

“I will never hurt you, idiot, from now on, you’ll be staying in my room and sleeping on my bed. I don’t care if I bring others in here, you will always remain as the only one I crave the most. Do you understand what I’m saying, little doe?”

You shook your head and he thought you were adorable. He grinned; eyes full of mirth looking at you from under his nose.

“It means from now on you won’t be cold during the winter, little one”

[tiaramania]

I just saw your page on the lotus flower tiara. Why was Reginald wearing it haha I was so thrown off

It is a funny picture!  Reginald Wilcock and his partner, William Tallon were the Queen Mother’s favorite servants.  William worked for her for over fifty years and after he passed away some of his pictures were auctioned including this one of Reginald wearing the Lotus Flower Tiara.  On the left it looks like it says “To William” and the last line looks like Snowdon.  Then on the right it looks like it says “David’s Wedding 1993″ so I��m guess that Antony Armstrong-Jones took the picture at at the wedding of his and Princess Margaret’s son, David, and his wife Serena, now the Earl and Countess of Snowdon. Serena wore the Lotus Flower on her wedding day so maybe he put it on while he was bringing it over from Clarence House or something like that.  

[nuclevi]

FIRST DANCE. [m. ackerman]

warnings: mentions of robbery, blood, battles, swords, reader feels uncomfy around men and lmk if i missed anything.

w.count: 1.1k

notes: this is for the spring collab event and took me so fkng long. i had no ideas for this until i listened to classical ball playlists and forced myself to write T-T anyways enjoy! listen to the howl’s castle theme song while reading hehe

moving bodies, flowing floral gowns and soft pits and pats of shoes clad feet play out in front of you as you stand in the grand ballroom of the queen’s palace. you watch as long and skilled fingers dance their way across piano keys and the sweet smell of raspberry and custard fill your senses as a royal maid flows past you with a tray of desserts. its romance in its own way, how every person moves in the walt with precise and calculated steps, women smiling and giggling at presumably their partner’s jests and warm hands around each other. 

dancing is a romance in its own ways and you wish to be romantic tonight. 

a little distance away, across the room, stands the bearer of the calm, black eyes you wish to be enveloped in. of course, who wouldn’t want to? she is the pride of the island. you had only heard the tell tales of her strength in battles in the past, but now that you’ve put a real face to those images in your mind, you’re not sure you can simply continue to fantasize about her. with strong arms and a hard face, mikasa ackerman stands tall and proud in the same ballroom as you. 

you’ve had your eyes on her all night, feeling trapped by the charisma she oozes in every room she steps in. from her jet black hair to the wine colored suit she adorns along with the bolo tie resting right on her collarbones. she looks like every bit of nobility. 

there’s always a flock surrounding her, soldiers trying to get the secret of her strength out of her or high noble men and women wishing to spend their nights tangled with her in their sheets. your eyes tear away from her, although begrudgingly, as a man approaches and plants himself by your side. an urge to sigh and roll your eyes sits in your mind at simply the presence of him. not again. he eyes you up and down shamelessly, a crooked smile forming on his lips. “what is a lovely lady like yourself doing here alone?” 

your lips force a smile out, “planning to heist the queen’s jewels.” you watch with tight lips as the man in front of you throws his head back and laughs. it's an unpleasant sound. “a fiery one, are you? your ladyship would look better on the dance floor instead. would you..” your ears happily tune out that unpleasant voice, only to be filled with the loud drumming of your heart — as you watch a certain figure in wine colored cloth walk towards you. the man’s eyes widen as mikasa plants herself between you two and fixes himself with a glare that has him hastily curtsy and scramble away.

precipitation forms on your neck and gloved hands go clammy as she turns towards you. “you looked uncomfortable around him. are you alright?” you wish to answer, to open your mouth and give her your thanks, but all thoughts are lost when your eyes meet and her scent wafts your senses. a meek “yes, thank you,” leaves you. mikasa gives a faint nod but doesn’t make any moves to leave your side, instead only shifts closer to you. you both spend a few minutes in awkward silence, not knowing what to converse about. 

“would your grace care to dance?” 

mikasa hates dancing. why would she abuse her energy by spinning around in circles instead of investing it in something more useful? nothing comes out of it in any case. her eyes meet your expecting ones. i do not dance, she wants to reply. “alright,” is what her mouth forms instead. your eyes lit up with glee and lips break out in a soft smile. you were almost sure mikasa would decline and you would leave this room without a single dance. 

gloved hands come forward to take your own and your relish in the feeling of slipping your fingers through her own, briefly wondering how they would feel without the cloth on. said hands come to rest on your waist — hands that have held sharp swords and tainted with the blood of her enemies, now hold you with a gentleness that makes you wonder if you’re made of glass. you feel the fabric on her shoulders and again you wonder how they would feel without the barriers.

everything comes back to life as your feet move to join the waltz. your eyes meet everything else in the room but hers and yet your mind can’t think of anything else but her. it’s strange how a woman you hadn’t even met before today, makes you feel this way. “why is your grace all bashful now? you weren’t this shy when you were making eyes at me from across the room before.” your mind goes hazy again as her voice dips down, only for your ears to hear. a low chuckle falls from her lips and she spins you. 

“what about you? why did your grace decide to grant me a dance? as far as i know, you haven't danced with anyone else tonight.”

mikasa isn’t sure what came of her. dancing around with a noble woman in her arms. but as you tighten your hold on her and inched closer, she knows nothing anymore of her status, or anything else in this room for that matter — only you. it’s not that she’s never been with a woman before, or had a woman blushing for her. but, mikasa has never been with you before. and maybe that’s the reason she’s feeling this way. at least that’s what she keeps telling herself. 

“it appears that there’s a heist to be carried out here in the palace soon.” her velvety voice meets your ears in a symphony again, but it’s her words that have your smile broadening and chest filling with mirth. you spot the ghost of her smile on mikasa’s own face. “really now? is your grace planning to arrest the culprit?” 

“of course. I am a loyal protector of the crown, after all. i bet the culprit is here somewhere in this very room. my informers have reported that she is a quiet troublesome woman who hides behind rosy cheeks and a delight for dancing.” with years of being in the military and planning battles that brought her sense of perception, mikasa hadn’t missed the wishful way you were staring at the waltzing couples in.

here you are, pressed chest to chest with a woman you had only dreamt of before. arms around each other, sweet smiles plastered on your faces — you’re now a part of the scene you had longed to be in earlier in the night. and mikasa had walked into the ballroom with a distaste for dancing, but she isn’t sure if she’d be leaving the ballroom with it.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

A Pirate's Life for Me

Will Turner x reader

Others Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The story of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann’s love is a brilliant one, but there is a part that is often forgotten. The girl that saved Elizabeth’s life, the girl that died on a hill of gold, the girl that burned for Will. She never got her happy ending.

A/N: I legit cried while writing this, I'm so sorry. If people want a part 2 with a happy ending, please tell me!

A/N 2: Requests are open

Warnings: Major character death, ANGST, no happy ending, unrequited love

WC: 708

Minors DNI

The sea was an unstoppable force. Powerful and beautiful. Both giving life and taking it away. Many tried to rule her, control how she moved and swayed but they were quickly swallowed into their depths.

Then there were those who worshiped her. Who learned to read the stars and navigate through the waves, respecting her power.

Will Turner stood on the deck of the Black Pearl, watching the stained wood slice the water, gliding smoothly along the surface. He didn’t remember much of his childhood, only a fantasised image of the ocean. The way it swallowed the faces he barely saw scared him, keeping him from the water.

He loved the land, loved the girl he associated his survival with. Elizabeth Swann. She was beautiful, a golden light, an untouchable jewel, almost like the sun. He always saw her warmth, her security. She was everything opposite of the sea, she was everything he wanted but it seemed she never saw him.

It had been a year since that night on a mountain of gold stained with the red blood of a young woman. Will didn’t know where to turn. He couldn’t go back to Port Royal. Couldn’t return to that dingy shop where she had lived with him.

Where Elizabeth was the sun, she had been the sea. Her fury unmatched by any other. Her strength and beauty unchallenged. She was always quiet, a constant support, reliable like the tides. Her kindness wore him down, consuming him. Her smile was bright and her heart large. But Will never saw her, always looking for the sun with the sea surrounding him.

She dropped everything to help him rescue his love, absolutely no questions asked, even when he led her aboard a ship full of pirates. Her stubbornness and practical wisdom quickly earned her a place among them. The pirates bent to her will, worshipping at her feet as she out drank them or managed to knock them on their asses when sparring.

Still he never saw her. But Jack did.

Jack saw the way her eyes dimmed when Will spoke of Elizabeth. Saw the way she closed in on herself, hiding her curves behind big shirts and a strong front when Will described her beauty and her small appearance. The captain watched as the sea bent for the boy who loved the sun.

Barbosa demanded a sacrifice, the curse demanded blood.

Will couldn’t move as he watched the knife move closer to his sun. Couldn’t do anything to stop it. The sun was untouchable, even in the most desperate of moments. But the sea moves quickly.

And just as the sea takes life, life can be taken from the sea.

The blade sliced cleanly through her, she didn’t even make a noise as her blood began to fall. Her congregation rushed forward, even those who demanded death, including Barbosa himself.

Jack held her hand as her life faded, the tides receding, never to return. The sun finally held the boy in her arms but he could only see the water now. See how it had shaped him, like the waves shape the coast. He could see how beautiful it was, how much he needed it. The sun gave him light but the sea gave him life.

The Black Pearl had been quiet when they returned. Will never saw her body again, the men burning her before letting her go, back into the sea. The ocean was calm, itself almost mourning the loss.

Gold stained with red haunted his nights. The glittering light being corrupted by his own mistakes. Elizabeth tried to bring him back but Will could never step foot on land again. He needed to be close to her, to feel her love.

On those nights where he was on watch, he spoke to her. Declaring his sins and misdoings but also describing his heart, spilling tears as droplets of water landed on his face, as if she were trying to remind him that she was there.

We came from the sea, and someday we will always return to it. Will could only hope that she would be there waiting for him, like she always had, with open arms and a kind smile, storms raging behind her eyes.

Taglist:

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

[the-empress-7]

Personally- I guess it would be great if the Sussex couple did actually go after royal Tumblr blogs spreading outright nonsense about them and harassing Meghan every day. At least then everyone would see the truth. An obese lady pretending to be a PhD student. Hint- PhD students don’t sleep the whole day! One jewel lover lady pretending to have 3 “perfectly well-behaved kids” Just like the Cambridges! Another who conveniently had a boyfriend who rode a motorcycle before marriage. Just like Kate!

I have thought long and hard about whether to respond to you. I have decided that I can’t abide by the fact that you have dragged living breathing, not to mention generous and kind women into this vile wish of yours.

Do you know how many people on earth have three well behaved kids? Do you know how many women on earth have dated men who owned motorcycles (even I have!)? Do you know that ones body type does not prevent someone from pursuing a PhD?

Do you know how easy it is for anyone one of us to find a trait in common with the Cambridges. The last I checked they are human just like us. Why the heck do you think we follow them to begin with? It’s because we relate to them. Please leave your cave and gain some perspective in life, not to mention empathy.

Also, I think I know who you are are, and why you are trying to stir things up. If you unhappy with your life, there is no need to take it out on the rest of us.

PS: Karma is a B. What you wish for others, comes back to you three fold.

[flowerwrites06]

bow to you IV — jjk

Pairing(s): King!Jungkook x Queen!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Genre: Royal AU | Marriage AU

Word Count: 5.6k 

Tags & Warnings: infidelity, cheating, lots of crying and screaming, marital problems, royal marriage troubles, a crap ton of back and forth fighting,  jungkook is something else dude, ANGST, coarse language, mild violence, sexual content (both explicit and non-explicit), toxic dynamics 

Authors Note: this is a bit longer than the usual chapter length but I hope you like the new update my screwed up royal couple. Send in your thoughts as always! 

Wintery wisps of breeze made the ivory fur lining on her red cloak shiver. The unpredictable weather sent aches to her body, making it irritating to stand on the stone grounds of the entrance courtyard of the palace. Belle peered from the brim of her red parasol. She saw the violet and silver palanquin arrive, the carriers’ pants dirtied by the residue of storm on the ground.

Jungkook stood proud in his gold and black clothing, sweat forming pearlets on his neck and temple from the humidity. They’d been deeply silent and distant between each formal event but there were some marital duties they had perform. Particularly, their marriage anniversary. People came together for this anniversary as a holiday and some royals even visited to relax and retreat in the great palace. This year, King Taehyung came for a visit.

The palanquin paused and two servants with black robes placed a rug to give their King a clean path. Lilac curtains drawn, Taehyung stepped out with an extravagant aubergine robe. Brown and curly hair, glowing tan skin and a smile that brightened the greyness of the day. His charming aura spread like hypnotic perfume as her ladies blushed in his presence and tried not to jump in excitement.

Taehyung greeted Jungkook with his arms wide open. “Jungkook.” He pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m glad you could make it to the ceremony.” Jungkook patted his back.

“Of course. Congratulations on seven years of marriage.” Taehyungs’ gaze flickered from Jungkook to Belle, eyes immediately softened. “My lady.” He gave a deep bow. “You’re looking beautiful as always.”

“Thank you, Taehyung.” Belle smiled.

Jungkook habitually placed a hand on the small of her back, rubbing up and down at a slow pace. “I hope your journey was comfortable.”

Taehyung placed his arms behind his back with that same smile, brown eyes glinting in all its beauty. “I feel bad for my servants for having to walk through thick layers of mud.” He gestured to the ones in black robes.

Jungkook hummed, slamming a heavy hand on Taehyungs’ shoulder after detaching from her. “Come, I need to show you around.”

Belle took a deep breath from the congestion in her chest. She had a feeling of what he was going to show the King. Like he’d been showing off to his subjects and nobles. All the beauties of the town in his grasp, decorated in jewels and silks. Staring up at the men, she noticed Taehyungs’ eyes on her. She tried to give him a forced smile but even the charming prince sent a look of suspicion.

***

The green one was pregnant. Before they could move onto any other celebrations, Jungkook had already disappeared off to his harem building while Belle sat in her tea room. Peach tea and one of her favourite poetry books rested on the red wood table. Rain began pitter pattering again, casting sparkles of dew on the nearby blossoms peeking through the circular window.

Usually Jungkook would sit with her here while they spoke about their future. So many plans. So many dreams of where they would be in years to come. Niether of them predicted this. Or maybe Jungkook did and he chose not to tell her.

Of all the emotions swirling through her head, tightening in her chest and pushing her to wailing, this felt new. A deep and lasting sense of melancholy. Jungkook was reveling in his joy of expecting a child with another woman while she sat here—feeling numb.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty.” Taehyungs’ voice pulled her back to reality. He closed the door behind him. “I thought you could use some company.” Unlike the sparkly charm he gave people in public, here he offered a genuine smile; soft and caring.

Although that could’ve also been staged, Belle didn’t know how to be sure anymore. She tightened her robe closer to her body. Her formal red attire replaced with a comfortable honey dress that pooled around her as she sat on the wooden platform. “Shouldn’t you be with the King? He must want you to join in his festivities.” She traced her finger on the brim of her cup.

Taehyung walked to the table and sat on the other side of the table with an audible sigh. “I think Jungkook has enough attention on me right now.”

Belle tried to attempt a smile but her mental exhaustion only pushed her further down. “He got what he wanted. I heard one of the others showed pregnancy signs too.” She absentmindedly traced her finger pad on the top of the book. “He’s getting his heirs.” Her voice nearly cracked.

Taehyung rested back against the window, long fingers tapping on the wood. “What’s the book about?”

“It’s a collection of poems about two friends who run away together.” Belle smiled to herself. “My mother really liked it. One of them was a writer and the other a singer so they would tell romantic tales at every tavern they visited. It’s only towards the end that we realize the writer was writing out her feelings to the singer and the singer was personally serenading the writer.”

Taehyung chuckled softly. “Oblivious artists.” He rubbed his bottom lips with a ringed finger. “It’s a beautiful story though.”

“I used to dream about love stories like this when I was younger.” Sadness glazed over Belle’s eyes, the dull throb in her chest returning. “Now it’s all I have left to hold onto love.” She caressed the wet stains on the pages of the book from her tears, still leaving a patch on the surface after a while.

“I’m sure Jungkook loves you.” Taehyungs’ voice lowered in a loving murmur.

Belle held in a scoff. If there was love, it definitely didn’t show in his last kiss on her lips. Nor did it show in the irritated look he gives her. If there was love, it was giving her the most pain she’d ever felt since her third miscarriage. This king wouldn’t want to hear all of that so she succumbed to keeping her smile. “I’m sure he does love me. Within the Kings’ logic.”

Steam thinned from her current teacup so she downed most of the liquid, eyes flickered to the window. The peace blossoms lost most of its flowers, warning her of the coming winter.

“I don’t say that to belittle your feelings, Your Majesty.” Taehyung leaned forward. His long arms took up most of the table, fingers lingering near her book and hand. “What the King is doing isn’t right-minded. I haven’t quite reached the point of monarch madness where I think that way.”

“Maybe you need to get married to reach it.” Belle failed to hold back the nudge of frustration that crept up her spine.

Taehyung merely chuckled, scratching his temple. “I suppose I deserved that.” His thumb shyly brushed against the back of her hand. “My honest opinion of you would get me into trouble with the King, my lady. Forgive me if I don’t speak too many comforts. But if I were married to you and this were our marriage anniversary—I’d be just like I am now, sitting with you and enjoying your presence.”

Shy thumb transformed into a confident caress to the back of her hand. Belle hated that she felt comforted by the touch. It’d been so long since she received any kind of touch that wasn’t just her maidens putting on her clothes or helping to bathe her. This was a willing caress, bringing warmth deeper beyond her skin into her chest and stomach.

“It doesn’t seem like you fear Jungkook too much.”

Taehyung smirked, sneaking his fingers in between hers like an interwoven basket. “Maybe I like comforting you more than I fear the King.”

Belle didn’t know how it was impossible. The dull throbbing was replaced with that overwhelming warmth, reaching up to burn her cheeks.

“My lady…” One of the maidens burst through the doors. Before Taehyung could pull his hand away, the maidens’ large eyes already plastered on them. The young girl tried her best not to look shocked by it but the flush of her cheeks gave her away more than words. “We must ready you for the banquet, my Queen.” She bowed. “Please come with me.”

“I’ll leave you to it, my lady.” Taehyung got up to his feet and bowed, darkened eyes pierced into her without blinking before he walked away.

The maiden reddened even more as the King passed and exited the room.

All the while, Belle felt unbearable heat under her skin.

***

The banquet never lost its extravagance even though the marriage did. Gold and red tapestries, shimmering trinkets hanging on every inch of the room, the finest wines swirling the air and every dress more glamorous than the next.

Belle was adorned in another red dress, golden headdress fastened on her head with two red ribbons hanging down to her shoulders. Her maidens had to constantly fix her dress so it wouldn’t get caught on the throne.

Jungkook sat next to her with his own black and red ensemble. He stopped wearing his crown from frequent headaches. The shadows under his eyes had darkened more than she expected. After hearing news of the pregnancy, Jungkook grew more silent than ever before, barely looking at her when they situated themselves in the banquet room. His jawline looked sharper from lack of proper meals but the muscles from excessive training grew ever prominent. If he wasn’t trying to put heirs in his concubines or dealing with court matters, he was out on the training grounds for hours.

Belle wondered if he ever slept anymore.

Unable to take the silence any longer, Belle mustered herself to speak. “Is she well?” she asked. Even in her frustration she tried not to refer to the concubine as the green one.

“Who?”

“The mother of your child.”

Jungkook shifted like his back was itching terribly all of a sudden. “She’s well.” His vocabulary shortened every time she spoke to him.

“Why do you look so upset then?” Belle tilted her head. A bad decision when her headdress tried to pull her down to the table.

Dark eyes flickered towards her, unreadable yet firm at the same time. His calloused hand held onto hers, interweaving their fingers so Belle couldn’t pull out of the grasp. “Can we not talk about this during our anniversary?”

“You were just—gone for the whole day.” Belle looked ahead to the grand hall with its jade floors and gold pillars. She caught a glimpse of Taehyung speaking to a group of giggling noble ladies, his arms clasped behind his back politely. “I expected you to be elated.” The moment Taehyungs’ eyes landed on her, she felt the burn on her cheeks again.

Softened gaze, he gave an acknowledged nod and smile.

It was near shameful how much those miniscule actions meant to her and the liveliness of her heart. Belle forced herself to look down on her plate decorated with moon cakes.

“From what I heard, you weren’t completely alone on our anniversary either.” Jungkooks’ rasped voice pulled her attention back towards him. The deepened shadows under his eyes and the glazed look from alcohol rushing through his bloodstream made him look terrifying. His rough hand tightened around hers.

“Would it ease your ego if I was alone today?” That look could’ve scared anyone else in this room but not her. Though the grip of his hand began forcing her rings to dug into her skin. “You’re hurting my hand, Jungkook.” Belle spoke the words like they were secret whispers to a lover.

Jungkook released her hand and took another generous swig of his wine. Like an actor changing his roles abruptly, he gave a large grin to the crowd. “King Taehyung!”

Taehyung raised his brows, polite smile ghosted on his face as Jungkook jumped up to his feet and walked towards him.

“I would like to thank you for coming to the celebration of my love.” Jungkook pressed his palms to his own chest.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Belle felt anxiety pricking at the back of her mind. The eyes of the court were on them though, she had to maintain an air of happiness and joy. This was meant to be a happy day.

“You know…” Jungkook cleared his throat. “My wife and I met during war. She gave my kingdom aid and personally came into my tent and said—you’re going to win this war and come back to me.” He wiggled a finger at Taehyung who listened politely. “If it wasn’t for her, my kingdom and I would probably have never survived that final battle. She’s the reason for my second chance at life when most princes would’ve lost their lives.” The people in the court murmured in awe.

“I was the youngest in my family out of twelve children, nobody thought I’d make it to kingship. Not until I won that war and gained an alliance from one of the most powerful kingdoms.” He turned on his heel, piercing those darkened, unreadable eyes on Belle. “All because of her. My sun and moon. My sea and stars.”

Of all the cruel things he could’ve done in the past few weeks, this was the worst of them. He spoke of their story like he still knew what it meant to them. But it laced with a bitterness only she could recognize. Jungkook was confronting her through fluff and illusion. Stuffing everyone’s eyes with comfortable cotton so even the ladies who had heard gossip of the tea room stared at her in slight contempt.

Belle felt tears blur her eyes. How dare he use that story—the memories she held precious to her heart—in this way? Like a pawn in his chess game.

“Taehyung.” Jungkook slapped his back playfully. “You’re a strong man, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think so.” Taehyung chuckled nervously.

“How would you like a friendly wager? Hm? An arm wrestle.” Jungkook walked back to the table and placed his cup.

“What’s the wager?”

“If you win, you get to have one of my concubines.” Jungkook smirked, resting his arm over Taehyungs’ shoulder and forcing him to bend down. He spoke in a lower tone so the other nobles couldn’t quite hear them. “If I win…you stay the hell away from my wife and leave this kingdom with half the limbs you came with.”

Anxiety burst in her belly like acid eating through her stomach, the nape of her neck burning hot until she could feel sweat forming on her back. “Jungkook…” she muttered under her breath.

“What do you say, your Majesty?” Jungkook pretended not to hear her. “It’s a wager?”

Taehyung took a deep breath, fingers shaking as he tried to get into a comfortable standing position. “Your Majesty, I meant no offense…”

Jungkook hummed. “I’m sure you didn’t.” He patted his back. “Set up a table for me and his Majesty! And a chair closer for the Queen.”

All her years of training to be quaint and hide her emotions melted into the searing pain in her stomach. The maidens helped her stand to her feet while a servant placed her chair near a wooden table. She had to grip onto one of the maidens hand to keep herself steady as she finally dropped to the velvet seat.

It didn’t help that Taehyung couldn’t suppress his panic in his long fingers, trembling and struggling to be contained.

Jungkook took off his robe and rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt. She could feel his gaze on her but refused to look him in the eye. Right now more than ever, Belle felt a strange sensation of dread from his presence. And perhaps a bit of genuine sadness.

His calloused hand came down to caress her cheek causing her breathing to slow. He leaned down and touched his lips to her ear. “Keep your smile, my heart. People are watching.” Jungkook ended the eerie statement with a kiss on her cheek.

Belle pretended to smile as if he’d spoken something sweet.

Jungkook walked towards the wooden table, resting his elbow and relaxing his fingers. Taehyung hesitated but eventually garnered enough courage to grab onto his hand. A council member sounded out the beginning of the arm wrestle match while the ladies of the court gathered to the side they took. Even though it seemed that Taehyungs’ confidence would help his win, nothing beat Jungkooks’ strength.

Belle spent most of her life admiring that strength. Today it felt like a bad dream recurring another night.

Jungkook pushed Taehyungs’ arm down like it was a small bag of flour though there was no satisfied smirk on his face. The court roared in applause at their Kings’ victory. None of them really heard the true terms of the arm wrestle. Taehyung, on the other hand, curled up within himself at his chair unable to move a muscle.

His kingdom was a small one, nearly forgettable. Jungkook could easily take him out of the picture and no one would tell the difference. The way he stared at Taehyung made it clear how much of an insect he was compared to him and Belle couldn’t help but feel nauseated.

Did she cause this? The King needed heirs which is why he had the harem. What was her reason? She wanted the attention. She wanted to be seen and pull someones’ interest again. Despite Jungkooks’ disloyalty, the people would still admire his reason more than her own.

Trembling hands hid underneath her floral embroidered sleeves as Belle tried to gather her thoughts. She had to stop this somehow.

***

Jungkook didn’t stop drinking. He must’ve been on his fifteenth glass when his guards dragged Taehyung out onto one of the gazebos. All the other members of courts were either drifted to sleep or too drunk to care about what was happening. Taehyungs’ own servants and guards were nowhere to be found.

Belle resorted to taking most of her clothes off in her bed chambers and changed into a flowing crème dress with a robe for warmth. Her maidens kept calling out to her, chasing after her to stay in her bed chambers but most of the sound was blocked out by the drumming of her heart. Maybe it wasn’t her fault that Taehyung tried to seep through her vulnerability into her affection but it didn’t excuse his torture.

She sprinted towards the gazebo lit up with lanterns, whisking past a drunken couple laughing away while the lady tried to hold up her headdress.

When Belle arrived, Taehyungs’ body whipped to the side from a punch. Jungkooks’ back could’ve exuded steam from the heat of his anger but his movements were sloppy from the excessive drinking. A terrified servant kept holding a tray filled with new alcohol for the King to consume.

“Jungkook!” Belle stood in front of him before he could raise his fist again.

Hair covered most of his infuriated eyes, sweat thickly layered over his skin and the pungent scent of alcohol wafted from his aura. “You’re defending him now.”

“He’s a King in his own right, you can’t just start swinging punches at him.” She reached out and pushed his pulsating arm down.

“I won the wrestling match fair and square,” Jungkook slurred. Darkened eyes trailed up and down her form as he cupped her cheek with his injured fist. “I’m fighting for your honor, see?”

“You don’t need to fight for my honor. He’s supposed to be our political ally.”

“He’s nothing.” Jungkook emphasized for Taehyung particularly as he buried his hands knuckle deep into her hair, blood sticking to her curls. “He was going to take advantage of you. Don’t you know that?”

Belle pressed her lips together, pushing his hand away. “I can handle myself just fine. Besides I don’t think there’s much of my honor left thanks to you.” Of all the people who could think to protect her honor was the man who flaunted his mistresses in her face like they were his kingly duty.

Jungkook scoffed, sending a sharp glare to Taehyung like he was ready to swing his fists again. But he didn’t move a muscle. “Take him away. And ensure he gets a physician on him.”

Like a dead animal, the guards dragged Taehyung out of the gazebo, leaving Belle and Jungkook alone again. Save for the servant who tried to take deep breaths to calm their anxiety.

“Would you have fucked him?” Jungkook padded to the tray of alcohol.

Belle gritted her teeth to calm some of the anger slowly brewing in her stomach. “I’m not you. Either way, what business is it to you now? We’re officially separated whether you like it or not.”

“Whether I like it or not—” Jungkook chuckled. “Is that right?” He smirked her way. “So me fucking my concubines is no big issue now. I can even make one of them my wife. It would legitimize Lula. I could even have multiple wives, some Kings do that.” He swung his cup around, carelessly letting the liquid pour over his hand without a care.

Belle almost wanted to laugh herself at the display before her. “How beautifully you can lie to those people in the court. Using the story that’s most precious to me to your advantage.”

Jungkook smile soured into a ghost of a frown. “That story is precious to me too, Belle.” He pointed the cup at her. “Don’t take that away from me too.”

“Yes, of course. You can have everything.” Belle shook her head. “While I can’t even speak to another person. I don’t know if you realize but maybe I just wanted someone to talk to, not sleep with.”

“That’s not what he wanted.”

“Even I know that’s not the reason you made this whole scene.” Belle let out a small chuckle, cheeks now burning in frustration than anything else. “You don’t want me to move away from you. You want everything together and neatly organized like your little dollhouse, don’t you?”

“So what if I do? Are you saying you really want to stray away from me?” Jungkook winced. “Why do the whole non-political separation then? Leave the whole kingdom completely if it deeply hurts you that much.” He roughly gestured outside of the gazebo.

She felt something eat into her stomach again, a sharp pain that forced her knees to tremble. “I stayed because I care about this kingdom.” Belle pursed her shaking lips together. “But perhaps you’re right. If I am so disgusted by your behaviour then I should distance myself properly.”

Jungkooks’ rough stance flickered in and out of its strength. His jawline was so tight that it may cracked a few teeth but his flexed arms softened, legs slowly losing its attack stance to a relaxed stand. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You can tell yourself whatever you please, your Majesty.” Belle smiled, a strange venom on her tongue when she spoke that title. “As for me, I think I’ve had my fill of whatever one could call this relation between us. You have your legitimized heir ready for you and I’m sure many more to come.” She nodded behind him as her vision started to blur. If this final resort had ever arrived at their doorstep, Belle believed she would have the resolve to be emotionless. Yet her heart still squeezed. Still yearned like it was the first fight they were having. Some naïve part of her still wanted to wait it out and hope nothing else would come up or go wrong between them.

“Belle, I’m being serious. Stop it.” Jungkooks’ voice deepened and steadied like all the alcohol drained out of his body through the words he spoke.

“So am I.” Belles’ throat clogged most of her words. Her fingers tightened in fists to calm her frustrations but the trembling only transferred down to her knees. “Stop trying to treat my heart like it’s a child on a tantrum. For once, look me in the eye and listen to what I have to say seriously.” She blinked, letting a rebellious tear fall down her cheek. “I have had it. If you want a quiet, tolerant queen who will let you do whatever you want then marry one of those coloured dresses.” She waved her hand. “It’s not going to be me. Ever.”

Belle turned on her heel and walked back to her chambers.

***

“You’re leaving, Your Majesty?” One of the maidens asked her in a meek voice. Some of the younger ones had terrified looks on their faces. If Belle left then they would have to care for the concubines who were known not to be kind.

There were too many things pulling her to stay here and too many things pushing her to get out. Belle needed to clear her head. Away from the nightly noises and tainted memories. She needed to go back home where she was able to be herself. Her palace was left maintained by her servants and taken care of by her closest council member. Yet another part of her—the one who was a mature, seasoned Queen—didn’t want to accept defeat or submission. That Queen built this kingdom from war with her beloved King. Both their blood, sweat and tears seeped into the infrastructure of their new buildings and healthy lifestyle of their people. Would she truly crumble here? End her story here?

“I’m so sorry…I tried to stay here and be alright with it.” Belle tried to attempt a smile. She thought the non-political alliance would work and it could be the end of it. Belle and Jungkook could live in a distance. But the moment Belle tried to steer away, he’d come back and try to take it away from her.

Another maiden tried to protest with a breath until the door slammed open, almost breaking the hinges. The maidens yelped and backed away from the furious and steaming King that stomped inside, albeit with a bit of a stumble in his step.

“Get out,” Jungkook ordered. “Out!” His voice boomed across the room making the maidens scurry outside like a crowd of insects before one of them closed the door.

Belle sat on the side of her bed, fingers clasped together. “What’re you—”

“No!” He lifted a shaky finger, bloodshot eyes pierced on her. “You listen to me.”

Belle held his gaze in defiance.

“If you leave this kingdom then whatever I’ve done means nothing. Do you understand?” Jungkook tried to lower his voice but it sounded strained. “I didn’t want to wake up another morning or middle of the night seeing you crying and bleeding and holding our dead baby in your arms. I didn’t want to see you in pain another day of my life. Do you not understand that?!”

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

“You know how I felt when I found out Lula was pregnant? Huh?” Jungkook dropped to his knees and grabbed onto her dress. “How do you think I felt? You tell me.”

Belle stammered as the thick waft of alcohol hit her nostrils. “Happy?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook chuckled like a man on the brink of madness. “I felt absolutely nothing. She looked like a stranger who just happened to be pregnant. Do you know how that makes me feel?” Shaking hands held onto hers. “I gave up our marriage and you to do all this. Only to have no reaction whatsoever to a woman carrying my own child.”

“Jungkook, if you’re trying to make this into—”

“I’m not trying to do anything! That’s the point!” Jungkook gripped onto her hands for dear life before pressing his lips against them to keep himself quiet. “I really wasn’t trying to hurt you, I really truly wasn’t. I mean I was angry seeing you with Taehyung but—it’s that I want you to be unhappy.” He opened up one of Belle’s palms and pressed it against his hot cheek. “I need heirs…but I need you.” A light sob passed his lips as he rubbed Belles’ stomach with his other hand. “I need to have my heirs with you. Nurtured by you. Even mourned by you but it needs to be you.”

All her resolve crumbled into a weakened sob; parts of her mind screamed at her to pull away but another part didn’t want to listen. The part that was desperate to feel this connection again, to see Jungkook show some kind of vulnerability towards her after so long—triumphed over everything else.

Jungkook placed a kiss on the underside of her palm, then her clothed thigh as his other hand gripped onto the curve of her waist. “Let me stay here for tonight.”

“Jungkook…” Belle shook her head.

“No, please.” He buried his tear stricken face against her dress. “Please.” Sniffling, Jungkook lifted his head and held onto a piece of Belles’ hair. “Allow me the night of our anniversary—to be your husband again.”

Warmth travelled down her spine and spread across her chest; her stomach ran wild with butterflies like they were having their first night together. One night. One night to live in a pretty lie that feels comfortable and familiar. That Queen part of her screamed out again nudging her to bring back her place in the kingdom. She was not a simple wife. She wasn’t going to run away and live in a fantasy world as a princess, not her. “Can you grant me something in return for this night?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Jungkooks’ lips as he pressed her hand to his chest, making her feel his rushing heartbeat. “Anything.”

“I will take care of and instruct the concubines personally.” Belle felt a bitter taste in her mouth from her coming nausea. “They will not belong to you nor will they be allowed to marry you. Their children will be tutored in lessons I choose and they will also marry whomever I choose.” She desperately tried to keep a sturdy voice but it kept shaking at the very thought of having to interact with those women. But this was the only way to gain some control without breaking a political alliance. It wasn’t just Jungkooks’ kingdom anymore. It was her home too. No damned harem and unstable King was going to take her away from her. With a hardened determination, she fixated her eyes on Jungkook with not a flinch of her fingers or a twitch of her eyes. “Taking care of heirs and pleasing the King is my duty…return my duty back to me.”

Jungkook examined her expression, trying to understand why she had to make this declaration. Belle suspected that she would reinstate their marriage but she knew they had gone too far for a re-marriage to be appropriate. This was the only way to maintain the alliance and keep the King in check.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

Belle gulped down the lump in her throat. “I am.”

“I’ll make the preparations tomorrow. I promise.” Jungkook smiled, cupping her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers. “Oh my love, I’ll do anything you want…so long as you stay with me.”

Except get rid of the concubines and heal this marriage, Belle bit down her comment. Gentle touches became desperate, Jungkooks’ rough hand felt down her neck and chest, trying to get every inch of her. Without warning, his lips latched onto the curves of her breasts, kissing up to the side of her neck until he bit onto a patch of skin. His breathing was hot and heavy.

Every kiss was sloppier than the next, every movement more clumsy as the alcohol took over most of his energy. This wasn’t the first time Jungkook touched her when he was drunk but before it was different. They were filled with true passion and not suppressed tension towards each other.

Jungkook now was impatient as he pushed her onto her back and lifted her dress to bunch at her hips. Belle couldn’t help but admit that she wanted more of it. She’d been deprived of his touch for so long that even this clumsy act of kissing her jawline and perching between her legs was enough to make her stomach warm. She needed this badly. Pulling off her neck, Jungkook hovered over her properly, black hair falling over his face.

“Talk to me,” he whispered. Fingers caressed the hem of her chest, forcing him to stumble down on his elbow. “Tell me how it feels.” He kissed her collarbone; his wandering fingers pulled down the fabric to show more glimpses of her breasts. Eyes then fixated on her to wait for her answer.

Belle smiled and nodded. “It feels good.”

Jungkook hummed, taking one of her breasts into his mouth. A wave of pleasure after so long being untouched, flourished through her body, awakening dormant nerves. He sucked on each breast like it was his last meal. Frantically, his right hand moved to undo his pants, already hard and blushing at the tip.

Belle felt her walls stretch before she could see it in the hidden mess of their clothing. She spread her legs and encased around his hips, feeling his length bury deep inside her until her core pulsated to welcome it.

Jungkook had both elbows resting on either side of her, sweat-layered foreheads pressed together as the heat grew unbearable. Though there was no more patience left to take their clothes off when he began grinding into her. Hard, slow thrusts. Moving his entire shaft fully inside until it was completely swallowed and barely pulling out, ensuring that the feeling of him would linger.

Belle gripped onto his back, pulling at the fabric as the warmth tugged at her lower belly. It wasn’t like it used to be. She knew it wasn’t the same. But a stubborn part of her sank the thought, taking in the pleasures of the night however she could. This night would be the start of her journey to control.

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[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

ASOIAF House Fashion Headcanons : Part 1

So idk if I'm gonna get in trouble for this bc I'm not like, super deep into ASOIAF lore as some people are and might get things wrong, and I'm not very prominent in the fandom, but I'm big obsessed with costume/clothing design so hey, I'll give this a shot.

Basically I've recently been inspired by the art and words of wonderful people such as @persephones-plantpot, @inky-duchess, and @shebsart who have talked about the cultural clothing differences between the 7 kingdoms and I...wanted to do my own? I haven't been brave enough to draw them yet (one day! I'll update when that day comes!), but I do have ~ideas~ for my personal takes on the fashion of Westeros and I'd humbly like to bring them out. Based more on the books (as much as I love the show's costuming!) as sort of an alternative take - not necessarily 100% consistent with what they say about the clothing, but I try to stick to it occasionally. I love hearing different people's ideas on the clothes so I've thrown my own little opinion into the mix.

Warning: I'm wordy. Very.

The Targaryens: So here I'm less talking about Dany and Viserys, because while I'm sure they will have retained some of their cultural heritage through clothing (especially Viserys), they're detached from their homeland and family customs, and therefore have to adapt to whatever clothes they come across in their exile. Daenerys especially I think would adapt quickly, being younger and having virtually no memory of Westeros, and be wearing pretty much only Pentosi clothing at the beginning of the series.

ANYWAY onto the old Targaryen dynasty, pre-rebellion.

In terms of historical inspiration, I actually came up with a weird combination of traditional Russian/Slavic clothing and classical Roman/Greek dress

(Also, @persephones-plantpot drew her version as Byzantine inspired and THAT stuck in my head so, now there's Byzantine touches in my headcanon too *shrugs*).

Lots of Roman-style drapery, but with big yoke/collar situations going on, metal belts, torcs, arm bands and cuffs, hair jewelry and headdresses (similar in shape to the kokoshnik), and of course tons of dragon imagery in a variety of ways.

Big shoulders. Long coats with funky split sleeves for the men and long trains on the womens' gowns, all of it in expensive fabrics like velvet, silk, satin, and intricate brocades - they were the royal house after all.

For all the houses I want to stay away from sticking ONLY to the house colours, but did use them as a base to jump off from. So the Targaryens would obviously have red and black, but instead of a bright ruby red it's a whole swath of darker, more subdued tones. Maroon, burgundy, blood red - they're an old dynasty with a lot of weight behind them, so the shades in my mind would be "older"

Grey and white would also come up, with light draped outer garments in warmer weather

Also - purple. Dany wears it several times in the books, and as it's the traditional colour of royalty I can see them wearing it.

I even wondered if - in true Medieval fashion - they were the only ones allowed to wear purple, or certain shades of it, during their reign (or perhaps only during the reign of certain rulers)

Likewise, I see amethysts being a big part of their jewelry - they can be so polished and soft looking but also raw and spiky and dangerous.

Black stones too; onyx and (possibly raw) obsidian in all it's dragony goodness, and garnets that are such a dark red they're close to black. Diamonds as well. Elaborate jewels and beadwork would be worked into the clothing in a variety of ways.

I also have a headcanon that the majority of their jewelry would be mounted on silver or white gold, but never yellow gold to distinguish them from the Lannisters.

The Starks/North

Like many others, I headcanon a Scandinavian look - somewhere between Viking and traditional Saami clothing

Warm materials of course - mostly a variety of wools, linens, and even some kind of flannel - though I want to honour that velvet and silk are both mentioned as part of the Starks' wardrobe. The northerners tend to value comfort and practicality over aesthetic but the ~fancier~ Starks + allies would wear them for sure

Colour scheme would be fairly limited, mostly grey, white, and shades of blue and brown, but I don't want to ignore the fact that Sansa wears a lot of green in the first few books as well, so I'd like to think there's green in their palette

Not much in the way of jewelry, but a lot of heavy and complex embroidery

I can also see them being masters at pleating and smocking details

What jewelry there is would mostly consist of simple necklaces, brooches, pins and cloak clasps of etched iron and bronze, though I can see amber being used for beads, carved wooden beads as well.

Viking-style tortoiseshell brooches

Possibly walrus ivory used in both jewelry and craftwork along the coasts and in the far north.

Amber is fossilized sap, right? So it wouldn't be implausible to think that ancient Weirwood sap could form a rich, blood-red amber that's considered a Northern specialty and highly valued.

High collars to stave off the wind. Lots of fur.

I feel the common folk (and the nobility to some extent) have mastered the art of visible mending - using patching and stitching on worn clothes as a form of decoration. Northern clothing is durable and made to last, but I feel like the people would also push their clothes past the wearable limit and repurpose them for other uses (i.e. an old dress being cut up into fabric for a shawl or gloves, shirts into skirts, cloaks into dresses, etc.), so you'd see a lot of that

Hats! Hats! Hats! It's cold up there you guys!

Lannister/Westerlands:

Ok here I headcanon an early Renaissance/late Medieval sort of vibe, so like late 14th-early 15th centuries but sort of fantasy-ified

Especially the classic Burgundian dress

The Lannisters are very wealthy, so I'd expect the most expensive fabrics for them and other surrounding nobility - silks, velvets, satin, and lots of damask and brocade

Fancy headdresses, slight variations on those tall pointed hats

Also long veils, not so much covering the face but artistically and elaborately draped over the hair

They're all about house pride, so I feel like their house colours would be reflected more obviously in their clothing, so mostly bright, rich reds and gold/yellow shades, though I can also see some vivid greens and warm coppery browns mixed in

Cloth of gold and even metal-infused fabrics could be a thing

ALL about jewelry. Most of it's gold, but they won't say no to silver, copper, or bronze. Heavy and intricate necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, or jewels just sewn right into the clothes themselves

All kinds of rubies, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds , pearls, opals, any precious stone they can get their hands on really

While they like to show off and make a statement with their clothing, I feel like they'd still have a sense of classiness about it - they're just vain enough to toe the line of gaudiness, but still snooty enough to judge those who cross it

Idk I just picture Cersei having bright red fingernails so. Nail polish.

Greyjoy/Iron Islands:

Someone made a post (that I unfortunately can't find) that described the Iron Island culture as being like a cross between Vikings and golden-age-of-piracy-era pirates, and...yeah that's pretty much my headcanon too

I'm going mostly Viking with this one but I can see some flowy shirts and long 18th century-style coats thrown into the mix

They wouldn't be that colourful though; mostly black, grey, brown, some dull greens, blues, and dark gold

Mostly wool and leather, often waxed to make it water-repellent (yes I stole that from the show's costume designer but you know what, it works That Much)

Also, I can weirdly see knitwear being popular. I know it doesn't match with their vibes, but hey, it's warm, and you can't tell me there isn't at LEAST one Iron Islands granny out there insisting her grandson wears the sweater she made for him before going out raiding so he doesn't get cold

Also also: shawls, fingerless mitts, scarves etc

Also also also, complex cable patterns are a big thing in both Irish and Scandinavian cultures, so I love the idea of them as well as having house sigils having like, family knitting patterns that they wear to identify them (or etched into a leather jerkin, that works too)

On that note - the sailor tradition of wearing a gold earring so if they die at sea their funeral can be paid for totally applies here, though I can see wealthier people wearing other ear piercings just for The Look as well

(Part of Theon's Full Hardcore Ironborn initiation in ACOK involved him getting his ear pierced and you CAN'T convince me otherwise)

I've recently seen a lot of people drawing/headcanoning the Ironborn with tattoos and I gotta say I agree

Possibly facepaint too? Like a war paint situation? Eyeliner??? Yes.

I think much of their jewelry/decoration would come from plundering, so there's stuff from a lot of other cultures

However; amber, iron, bronze, mother of pearl, and pearls (I love the idea of them using primarily black pearls) would be their home specialties

I love the idea of some of the more experienced raiders (like Euron and Victarion who have gone all over the place) wearing foreign/ Essosi coins as ornamentation on their clothes or as jewelry

Temple rings? They were more of a Slavic thing but they were a Viking thing too so *shrugs*

I think the women's clothing would have a hint of rural 18th century dress, though less structured, and they'd often cover their hair, more for practicality's sake than modesty though

Like the Starks they're practical, but I think Fancier Islanders would wear sealskin coats and wraps

THat's it for now, there'll be a part 2 soon and I feel really inspired to draw these so you might even get that at some point if I've got time. Feel free to debate or add your own ideas !