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You are born the second son of Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius – the younger brother of Glenn Govann Fraldarius. You are the future Shield of Faerghus, a fate coincided with the future King, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. Bloodlines that preamble to pre-destined fates – a sacred toil for a sacred lineage. All was set in stone – all was placed. You were a child with everything ahead of you.
Tragedy, however, was not one to idle while its name remained buried in shadows. It bears its cruel maw, and settles for its innocent prey.
What do you do, when the brother falls underneath it's flamed-licked talons? When the father takes the brother's fallen life, and glorifies it in death? What do you do, when the prince – wracked with grief – maims in cruelty, instead of executing with mercy?
You spit on the idea destiny. You spit on circumstance. You spit on knightlihood, and the notion of justice. You stamp on everything given to you, and curse the gift – reborn a burden you refuse to fulfill. How could you, when it all has failed you? Failed your brother? Failed those who could not see the tragedy for what it truly was: meaningless death? No, you would not settle for shaping your life around ghosts.
You pick up the knife. You jab into the shield – you split its seams (you've always preferred the sword, anyway). You stab into its core – the very constitution. You refuse to protect someone who's already dead. You refuse to follow the dead's footsteps that lead them into their early graves. Let them rest. Let them sleep. They did not need cheap imitations re-living their lives.
You are his son. You are his brother. You are his shield. But you are also more – and you stare at the fractured reflection you have made of yourself. You slot your own shards. You forge your own path. You cross your own cross, and slice your own hand. You stare, and the man you are stares back.
" I am me ━ Felix Hugo Fraldarius. There is no one else. "
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@miortel said: [lick] - to go down on my muse oh yeah baby
smut starters & symbols // CLOSED
The bitter cold of Faerghus is a stubborn bite that clings to olden glass – persistent frost pressing against the ridges of the window pane. The wind howls – the winter cruel, and unforgiving. It is a ravenous beast that beats against the glass, but it is still powerless to the heat of a dimly lit oil lamp – to the warm hearth nestled near the king’s bedside.
Powerless, to the heat of fervent breaths that accompanied fervent hands – pulling at knots and letting cloth slip off skin and meet the wooden floor. The winter may be ravenous, but the king was downright starved – and who was his shield to deny the promise of a feast that would welcome him home?
‘ Felix–– ‘
Oh, how weak he’s become – how the blade on his tongue has rusted and withered to the sound of the way Dimitri calls his name in a desperate hiss, as though he were not the one who was enrapturing him. The spell of age-old yearning would never die, no matter how much Felix would try and will it – failing to wither, and instead trickled with thorns that dug into the twist of his bleeding heart. But now, in times where Dimitri could usher peace – where ghosts were just ghosts who’s voices have quelled (yet never ceased), the thorns would shrivel underneath the warm palms that pressed into his skin. Felix, instead bloomed – arching with a sigh as kisses trail from chapped lips worn with winter down to the planes of his stomach. A hiss, when Dimitri’s kisses find his hips – lifting them with ease as he ventures further where no one else would so much as dare. Yes, he is weak – weak to the kind-hearted king who rose above a mountain of skulls, and weaker still, to his beloved Mitya.
“ Mngh...! “
He feels the kisses trail into unabashed licks – where love meets lust, and Dimitri groans against Felix with want. That want mirrors into the thud of Felix’s head throwing back – the furrow of his brow as he inhales his own powerlessness as Dimitri kisses against him – pressing close into the space between his legs, and lidding a knowing gaze as he tastes Felix, and indulges himself with a need he could not desist. Felix knows this is what happens, because he cannot look at Dimitri when he gets like this – never could, even if he should try his damnedest. He couldn’t handle his fire-licked gaze that matched the embers from the hearth, and couldn’t bear against the molten drip of his love that he bore so openly to Felix. “ Hn... “ Yet still, does the knowledge have him drip with that same want for Dimitri – bury a hand into golden hair that the king never hesitated to lean into. It motivates him, even – to enclose a palm around Felix’s thigh and lift it with a smothered moan as he eats him out. Felix pants, and covers his mouth with his free hand – a futile attempt to try and muffle the noises that will inevitably tumble out of him.
Then––
‘ Felix. ‘
The rumble of Dimitri’s voice, velveted by a desire Felix would be a fool to deny sharing with him
‘ Look at me. ‘
Felix can only inhale, as that very same weakness compels his eyes to slowly trail back – to find the molten gaze that have never left him. To see the urgency in his firm palms that spread him open. To watch the way Dimitri gulps and swallows around him, unafraid of the intimacy of his actions. This, precisely, were the very things Felix was weak to – why he was weak to him, and why he couldn’t meet that gaze that shone so bright.
That weakness is what wills the sword to rust and rot. When Felix’s gaze finds Dimitri’s, he crumbled against it all, and surrenders that fight for another day. “ M– “ Eyes soften, and Felix finds in that weakness, he simply could not disobey something so sincerely asked of him.
“ Mitya–– “
The hearth dies a slow death, but Felix still pulls Dimitri in – welcoming his love, greedily indulging in his want. He still sighs, and blooms, and blooms, and blooms – defiant to the wither that could only come with frost.
“Ah. Touchy subject.” Yet, Yuri was more than inclined to continue with whatever questions they wanted to ask. His smile remained, not betraying the nature of Yuri’s approach to the topic at hand. They were concerned, yes. Inwardly, more-so. But also curious, because who wouldn’t be? They were making swipes themself before letting their sword slip a bit, loosening their grip. Yuri stood there with a hand under his chin, looking thoughtful. “You sound so confident in that. You sure you have that much of a hold on him?” Again, perhaps it wasn’t Yuri’s place to ask, but since when had that been any reason to stop him.
“Sorry to say, once I have my sights set on something, it takes a great deal more than another’s words to sway me.” He gave a small chuckle. “Unless I’m given enough ample reason. I don’t think any cause is truly lost when a will exists somewhere. Don’t you agree?”
Another swipe to the air – another crackle of tension that fires off his hot skin and even hotter veins. The corner of Felix’s lips twitch, just before his eyes narrow and his frown deepens. A click of his tongue, and Felix’s form relaxes. He decides to readjust everything, to the very place he stood. “ That’s the problem, “ is what he huffs as he stalks toward one of the dummies, “ I don’t have a hold on him. No one does. “ A wallowing beast too far into his own agony... Felix wonders why nobody else bothers to bite back when the boar so much as snarls. A part of him finds it infuriating, but he also finds it sad – anguishing. But, he’d sooner dig a grave for himself than let that grief take a hold of the reigns (Felix’s grip was always firmer).
A scoff, and where he once faces the training dummy he wished to maim, he looks down in thought. Felix’s palm settles on the sword at his side – indulging Yuri’s words in spite of the fiery it evokes.
“ ...You call it ample reason, “ comes the bitter murmur, “ but I call it foolishness. “ The fiery smolders in his eyes, before he faces the dummy again. The sword unsheathes, and the strike smacks into the make-shift ribs. “ Try wasting your time – whittle him down if you want, but I can promise he won’t see you as the living, breathing person you are. “
TW: explicit sexual content, some slight humiliation. Feel free to change wording, pronouns, genitalia, etc, to better fit your muse.
Send one of the following SENTENCES for my muse’s reaction:
“You’re so pretty like this.”
“You’re beautiful when you’re all flushed and wanting.”
“Do you want me to take you like this?”
“Easy, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Slow down, slow down.”
“You can be rough with me, I won’t break.”
“I want to suck you off.”
“I want to eat you out.”
“Did you touch yourself, thinking of me?”
“Please, please, touch me.”
“I want to bury my face between your thighs.”
“I want to touch you all night.”
“Please. Please, I’ll beg, I’ll do anything you want.”
“You can beg better than that, I think.”
“Harder, harder–”
“Fuck me until I can’t think.”
“I want you to bend me over and fuck me.”
“Would you let me take you here? Where anyone might see?”
“I don’t usually do this - but for you, anything.”
“You have such beautiful thighs.”
“Be patient, I’m not going to fuck you dry, no matter how much you beg.”
“Beg me for it.”
“You were made for this, weren’t you?”
“I think you’d stay on your knees all night if I’d let you.”
“Ride me. Slowly, that’s it.”
“Don’t you dare come until I give you permission.”
“Ah-ah. Don’t touch me.”
“Touch yourself, go on.”
“I want to make you feel good.”
“I love it when you moan for me.”
“Come on, darling, come for me.”
“Come on my fingers, that’s it.”
“God, your mouth, please–”
“I need you, I need your (mouth/cock/pussy/ass/fingers)–”
“Shh, do you want someone to walk in on us with your cock in me?”
“I’ll let you have me any way you want.”
“I’ve wanted to fuck you all night.”
“You’re so fucking tight.”
“You feel so good.”
“Kiss me, I want–please–”
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come–!”
“Please let me come.”
“I think I could go again, if you wanted.”
Send one of the following PROMPTS for my muse’s reaction. Feel free to combine prompts.
[tug] - to pull my muse’s head back by the hair
[throat] - to grip my muse gently but firmly by the throat
[chin] - to tilt my muse’s chin up to make them look at your muse
[kneel] - to kneel in front of my muse
[wall] - to pin my muse to a wall
[wrists] - to hold my muse down by the wrists
[flip] - to flip my muse onto their stomach and hold them down
[drag] - to drag my muse into yours’ lap
[palm] - to rub a palm against my muse’s clothed groin
[rut] - to push a knee between my muse’s thighs, against their groin
[mouth] - to mouth at my muse’s groin through their pants or underwear
[taste] - to have my muse taste themselves on your muse’s fingers
[tongue] - to kiss my muse with tongue
[thighs] - to kiss and suck at my muse’s inner thighs
[lick] - to go down on my muse
[finger] - to finger my muse
[breasts] - to fondle my muse’s breasts
[booty] - to fondle my muse’s ass
[spank] - to spank my muse
[restrain] - to tie my muse’s hands to prevent them from moving them
[dressup] - to dress my muse in sexy/appealing clothing (specify)
[vibrator] - to use a vibrator on my muse
[penetrate] - to fuck my muse with a cock, dildo or strap
[behind] - to fuck my muse from behind
[facing] - to fuck my muse face to face
[tenderly] - to tenderly make love to my muse
[pants] - to make my muse come in their pants
[facial] - to come on my muse’s face
[inside] - to come inside my muse
[risky] - to make my muse come where there’s a risk of being heard/discovered
[early] - to make my muse come earlier than expected
[edge] - to edge my muse/deny them orgasm
[beg] - to beg my muse to let yours come
Add ‘reverse’ to any prompt for my muse to perform the action on yours instead! Alternatively, feel free to make up your own prompt even if it’s not on the list!
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you're not sure if they know you're there or not. you're not sure if it matters. you watch them sway to the music, watch as they twirl around and smile for no one but themselves. they're free and laughing. they're alive and vibrant. they're everything you might never be except when you're with them. so full of life it makes something in your chest tighten. there are frown lines at the corners of your mouth but your lips are smiling right now. rare. and often, only for them. they have light in their hearts and some days you fear the darkness in you might swallow it whole. but they'd never let you walk away. so make sure the darkness inside you keeps all the other monsters away from their tender heart.
A slow crawl trailing away – an aversion in favor of the gravel besides, as though it were the most interesting thing in the world right now. Felix... just wasn’t built for this – this outing that Sylvain cajoled them to do under the guise of importance (which wasn’t wholly a lie, rather – not the whole truth either). Arms cross as Sylvain’s eyes trail from vendor to vendor – the marketplace abuzz even in the midst of war. And Felix was growing unnerved by the second.
“ . . . “
Thus, like any other (as in no possible other person) in his position – his sight settles upon the weapon wares just beside. Arms lower from where they were crossed as a gleam from a sword captures his immediate attention. With little warning, or so much as a single indication to his intention, Felix walks off – drawn by the potential of a blade bleeding with value.
Their chore is just about wrapped up, and the droplets still continue to pelt against the yellow-stained glass – amber creasing into a narrow glare. The rains have been ceaseless, and Felix was at least hopeful that the storm would lighten by the time he and Ashe would be able to leave unscathed. And yet, it’s a cruel persistence – especially for one who detested getting wet in any way. “ Mrgh... “ Felix shakes his head, and slumps his temple against one of the many moss traced pillars of the greenhouse.
“ Just my luck–– “ comes the grumble, arms crossing with bitter acceptance.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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not to be jpeg+ about felix but i rewatched his supports yesterday (i’m rusty as fuck and needed to rehash on his dialogue) and I only just noticed this niche little detail where they stay true to the fact he hates staring/being stared at whenever he’s being transparent AND HIS MODEL... LOOKS AWAY WHENEVER HE’S SAYING SMTHN THAT’S /NOT/ CALLOUS and I just think it’s so cute :’/
Red stained were the corners of eyes that remained transfixed on the stars above – the skin singed with salt. Though, there was nary a sound – silence confessing nothing to the state of Felix’s heart that beat with regret. It’s comforting in a sense – to hear life bustle on in the monastery from where he stood apart from the rest. From where Felix leaned against cobblestone, does his head perk at the slightest of disturbances. A sigh, and his head lowers to gaze upon lamps that were aglow with flame – voice sharp, and betraying nothing.
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