#gentleman apprentices

[maxmallard]

Having been replaying the first Layton trilogy on mobile it's kinda wild to realise that the Professor is a terrible parental figure. Primarily to Flora.

This poor girl has lived most of her life with little to no human interaction. Her father sets up a town-wild mystery to find someone worthy of taking care of his daughter.

And the guy that solves it is repeatedly leaving her alone to go on dangerous investigations. I know the alternative of taking her with him isn't great either, but the least he could do is make sure she has someone to look out for her back home. Except the Professor and Luke are the only people in London Flora knows (as stated by herself)

It kinda becomes pretty satisfying to watch her tell him off and have everyone on her side.

Sidenote; this dialogue

I know it's supposed to be a hint at the twist later down the line, but honestly Flora? With your caretaker's track record there's a very good chance of your future self being miles away just because

[ridiasfangirlings]

Arsene Lupin AU! Arsene Lupin AU! Reisi (or Izumo) doing the elegant thief thing. Ridia, what do you think?

Ooh I really like the idea of Gentleman Thief Munakata, I feel like he would really enjoy this kind of role XD Imagine this as like his double life too, like he’s a proper government official by day and a thief by night. Munakata enjoys working outside the law though he also considers himself a force for justice, his thievery is often in pursuit of righting wrongs or punishing the unjust. I imagine him being really smooth as a thief too, just imagine him with a cape (he absolutely has a cape and swirls it around dramatically constantly) and a top hat, plotting elaborate heists. He leaves a sparkling calling card when he’s intending to do a job, because he finds it most amusing when there’s a little challenge to his jobs.

I could see Munakata really enjoying most complex heists and seemingly ‘impenetrable’ safehouses, like he looks at every security setup as something of a puzzle that he alone can solve. Imagine him stealing some valuable artwork that has a secret code hidden inside which he needs in order to reveal a corrupt government official, the artwork is stored in a locked room in the museum with only the best security devices around it. Munakata uses his position as a government official to visit during the day, quietly memorizing the entire layout of the museum with only a glance, making small talk with the curator and even charming the guards so that he can get the best idea of what this job will entail. Then after leaving he doubles back and secretly leaves his calling card as he spends the rest of the day prepping for his magnificent heist. The museum is surrounded by cops and then Munakata just appears in the spotlights on the roof, bowing and doffing his hat as he says it is a shame but he must be off with the artwork, which he has already stolen. The police are dumbfounded and Munakata is just proud and victorious, this was as always a most enjoyable challenge. 

[meeghanreads]

Top 5 genre mash-ups

Hello friends!! Welcome to Top 5 Tuesday!! This week’s topic is top 5 genre mash-ups!! So, I completely forgot that I made this topic… Which is really only a shame when you think about my last top 5 freebie topic: top 5 historical fantasy rom-coms. Because you know what? Those are pretty classic genre mash-up books!! Anyway, today I’m going to try and find 5 completely different books than these.…

[gentlemans-code20]

#Iconoclast - Donald J. Trump

Donald Trump, in full Donald John Trump, (born June 14, 1946, New York, New York, U.S.), 45th president of the United States (2017–21). Trump was a real estate developer and businessman who owned, managed, or licensed his name to hotels, casinos, golf courses, resorts, and residential properties in the New York City area and around the world.

[honeykaes]

futile cure

mara-struck!jing yuan x reader II 4.5k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no pronouns, heavy angst, multiple major character deaths, can be read as yandere, monsterfucking, handjob, blowjob, deep throating, creampie, rough sex, info might be wrong because i haven’t completed 2.4 story quest yet, unedited

synopsis: with jing yuan’s blessing, you left the xianzhou’s luofu to join the astral express crew and follow the trailblaze. one hundred years later, the newly appointed general, yanqing reached out to you in desperation. Your former boyfriend is now mara-stricken

The air around the Express was lively as folks chimed with champagne, laughter, and music. Another world was saved, and another Stellaron crisis was averted. 

You sat at a table with two others who had been on the Express for the longest time, Dan Heng, the incarnation of the once-feared Dan Feng, and the living Stellaron himself, Caelus.

The three of you were focused on the 3 young crew members that recently joined, bickering and teasing one another in the corner of the train car. The corner’s of Dan Heng’s lips curved up, admiring the young group. His olive eyes drifted down to his cup, swishing the liquid side to side in thought.

“Y’know they���re bickering the same way you and March used to,” Dan Heng murmured. Caelus chuckled, leaning his elbow against the table. He rested his hand against his cheek in amusement.

“Kinda weird, we're the old ones now. Does that make me Mr. Yang and you Miss Himeko?” Caelus joked. You rolled your eyes at his response.

“Yeah, you wish. You still act as goofy and immature as ever, Caelus,” you retorted. Dan Heng sighed, looking off at the group of young travelers again.

“...I miss them. Miss Himeko, Mr. Yang, March…” he trailed off. The three of you remained silent as music played out, along with whatever the other group was talking about. Seeing them so happy after completing their second mission brought nostalgia. It seemed just yesterday that you all were in their positions.

Your gaze softened, looking at Pom Pom reprimanding them for being too loud. 

”I do too. Sometimes I wish all lifeforms had the same lifespan.” you murmured, looking at your own reflection in your drink. Caelus' face momentarily lit up, as an idea popped into the eccentric's head.

“Y'know what. Why don’t we go back to one of the worlds we used to like old times! Penacony! Jarilo-IV! Oh! Even your hometowns in Xianzhou Alliance’s Luofu!” Caelus suggested. Your heart churned hearing him say the Luofu. It had been decades since the crisis there where you had left to join the Astral Express, leaving your former boyfriend behind with his blessing.

You could still remember his soft gaze and sad smile, holding his hand with your own:

“The heart of a gentleman cares not about his own selfish desires, but of all that it encompasses from his breadth of heart.”

You hadn’t seen Jing Yuan in ages. You had heard he had retired and his apprentice—now grown—took the mantle of his position but you were too busy saving a world to attend the ceremony.

”...Personally, I prefer not to. However, (Y/n), I think it might be beneficial for you. Catch up on your old friends and see him again might do you some good. Although we are trailblazers, some of us with homes can get homesick. These opportunities are rare,” Dan Heng suggested.

Caelus quickly grabbed his drink, shooting it back and slamming it back down to the table. 

”Exactly! So, are we in agreement to go to the Luofu?” Caelus murmured, nudging you. You opened your mouth to retort to the drunken human stellaron but your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Your elbow nudged his stomach as he groaned before you lifted your phone up to see the message.

Your eyes widened, lips parted seeing the message on your phone. It was from Yanqing. You hadn’t spoken to him in years.

As the general, he rarely reached out to you. Even prior to his promotion, you could tell he held some animosity towards you for choosing the path of the Trailblaze and leaving his master, Jing Yuan. 

You couldn’t blame the child, just bore his unapproving gaze with a sad smile.

”Please come to the Luofu when you can. It’s important and I need your help. Only you can help him.”

Your heart sank as your grip on your device tightened. Out of all scenarios, there was one you could think of that Yanqing would bite his pride and reach out to you. But part of you didn’t want to believe it. It would make it real.

”What are you so focused on all of a sudden?” Caelus murmured, looking over your shoulder before getting quiet. You pulled your phone back and placed it on the table. Caelus peered at you with sympathetic eyes as Dan Heng’s narrowed in confusion.

“(Y/n)?” he asked, confused about your sudden somber and worried expression. You get up from your seat, the joy of the celebration completely gone leaving nothing but fear, longing, regret, and worry.

”Pom Pom,” you called out. The group of young travelers looked at you, noticing the change of your tone.  The small conductor turned to you, leaning his head to the side in confusion.

“Yes, Mx (Y/n)?”

“Please set a course to head to the Xianzhou's Luofu.”

Docking at the Luofu ship you could feel your heart beating a mile per minute. You felt light-hearted, stomach churning from the amount of anxiety bubbling throughout your body. Yanqing would only reach out to you for something serious.

Had something happened to him? He seemed fine when you last visited, but that was decades ago…

”Jing Yuan…” you muttered, looking down on the ground. Dan Heng had convinced the group to stay on the Express for the time being. The boys you had known for so long knew you wanted to handle this alone. You’d have to thank him later.

Disembarking alone onto the ship, you could barely focus on the hustle and bustle of the square. Your pace was fast, gaze scanning and looking for someone familiar.

You finally focused on the tall young man with arms. His hair was long and tight in a low ponytail. When he opened his eyes, the familiar amber greeted you back. Your eyes softened as you approached him.

“Yanqing! you grew up. Oh! Wait, I guess I should call you General Yanqing now,” you chuckled awkwardly. Yanqing forced a smile, his brow furrowed from stress. You could see the bags under his eyes, from countless restless nights. Whatever this was, it was truly getting to the newly appointed general. 

“Yanqing, what’s wrong…” you asked. The Cloud Knights adjacent to him looked to the General as he sighed.

”Let’s speak in my office, away from noisy ears and gazes,” he replied. You were caught off guard, by how deep his voice was. He had changed so much that the young apprentice who used to always come to you about stories of Jing Yuan.

As the two of you reached his office, you noticed a woman sitting on his desk. Your eyes narrowed trying to pinpoint where you recognized her, before a small smile appeared on your face.

”Yunli? Is that you?” you asked. Her eyes lit up as she gave you a polite smile..

 “(Y/n), it’s nice to see you. I hope this blockhead hasn’t been too rude to you,” she replied. Yanqing grunted at her response.

”Not the time, Yunli!: he barked. She rolled her eyes, unamused at the blond.

”I don’t care!” she seethed. “The idiot is still prideful but I was hoping he, at least, bit his pride and contacted you.”

She strummed her hand along the wooden desk in irritation. You could see a silver band on her finger. Once again, it seems you missed a lot in your time Trailblazing. You turned to look at Yanqing once more.

“Yanqing, what’s going on?” you asked again. Yanqing massaged his brow, lips parting as he tried to find the right words.

”Master, he…” he struggled. “You know about Jingliu, his master, right?” 

Your eyebrow furrowed. You could recall his somber face as he told you stories about her. She was an accomplished warrior who was a part of the High Cloud Quintet. Dan Feng's sin led him to his next incarnation, Baiheng died, a newly immortal Yingxing became the barely quelled mara-stricken Stelleron Hunter Blade, and Jingliu got mara-struck as well and went mad…

Leaving Jing Yuan by himself. 

But it was not as though you could judge, you ended up leaving him too.

”Yes…”

”...Jing Yuan is mara-struck.”

Time seemed to pause as those words continued to ring out. Mara-struck? Mara-struck? Haha no. He couldn’t…could he really? This is what you feared when you got that message from Yanqing.

”What do you mean by that,” you whispered, struggling to process the information. Yanqing looked at Yunli and sighed.

“When Jing Yuan retired, it was because the mara was getting to him and affecting his cognitive abilities,” he responded. “To not cause panic with the public, I and a few others said he had retired before I was promoted as the new General.”

You balled your fists, nails digging into the flesh of your palms.

”...He had been suffering for that long and you didn’t tell me Yanqing!” you out. Yanqing tightened his jaw, Adam's Apple bobbing as he tried quelling his dry throat in shame.

“You were so busy going off and traveling! I didn’t think you cared or had the time to care!” he shouted back.

”You should have told me! I would have come back to the Luofu for him!” you barked back. Yanqing’s nostrils flared as he took a step forward.

”Yet you still left the Luofu despite Master!” he shouted back. The two of you stared each other down. Your chests were heaving, ready to yell, shout, and bicker; whatever insult and claims that came next but neither one retorted. Soon, the anger in both of your eyes subsided back into pain and shame. Both of your gazes shifted away.

”...Where is he” you whispered, eyes fluttering to stop any tears threatening to drip down.

”.Held in a secure solitary confinement. The knights I have patrolling that area have said he has been getting more aggressive. We don’t think we have much time before he tries to escape,” Yanqing admitted.

It was beginning to get harder to bat away the tears as you shook your head at the new information. You always thought you would greet Jing Yuan with that lazy smile of his again. Not…a monster, an abomination of Yaoshi’s. 

”.What do you want me to do then?” you asked. Yanqing paused as Yunli sighed and got up from her seat, walking next to him. 

”Those soldiers have heard him call your name at night. For some reason, your name has a soothing effect on him. Makes him…almost normal again. As normal as you can get being mara-struck, I guess,” Yunli revealed.

Her hands weaved with Yanqing who struggled to come up with words. Yunli clicked her tongue gazing at him before turning back to you.

”.Yanqing, thought it was best for you to come. As a last effort to try to quell the mara within him. If this doesn’t work, he will be forced to subdue his master to protect the Luofu and Xianzhou Alliance,” she murmured. Yanqing's eyes closed at Yunli’s blunt words. 

You looked down on the ground. 

Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan who always pulled you back in bed, lazily cuddling with you whenever it was time for you two to get up. Jing Yuan who would tease you with Tanghulu, stealing the last fruit without you realizing it. Jing Yuan who got you to hand the sparrows that seemingly always loved to land on him. 

Jing Yuan whose lips dragged across your ear, whispering how much he admired you.

Jing Yuan who was the first person to tell you they loved you.

“Mx (Y/n)?” Yunli called out. You snapped out of your thoughts, quickly wiping away the tears that managed to spill out.

“Yes! Sorry, Yunli. Continue…. “ you replied. Although Yunli’s mouth opened to respond the next words were not heard but Yanqing

”Will you go and see him, please…” Yanqing begged in a broken whisper. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

”Yes, but with stipulations…”

Out of the places of the Luofu, you had explored and aventured, this was the first place you had never gone.

The secret unit had over five levels of security clearance and four levels underground. There was specialized personal guarding the only entry point. You and Yanqing walked in silence until you finally reached the final floor, where there was a single cell.

In the corner, Jing Yuan curled himself into a ball on the bed. His hair was wild and unkempt, but pieces of glowing ginkgo leaves seemed to be growing from it.

Yaoshi’s curse was claiming another.

Yanqing looked at you, eyes worried.

”Are you sure about this…” he murmured. You try to give him an encouraging smile to subside his fears.

”I’m positive…” you murmured.

Yanqing silently nodded as he opened the door to the former general’s cell. Jing Yuan didn’t move or react. You walked into the cell before the door was shut behind you.

”12 hrs. Remember, no one is allowed in here until then. Okay?” you called out behind the iron bars. Yanqing hesitated but nodded.

“Knights, clear out this level and guard the one before it,” Yanqing yelled out. 

“Yes, General!” they all shouted in unison. The Cloud Knights in the area stood rigid and saluted before making their way up the stairs with him, leaving you and Jing Yuan alone.

You turned to him as he slowly uncurled himself, laying on his bed. His head had leaned against the concrete wall, a collar on his neck, wrist, and ankles. 

You had heard in some cases, Luofu technology for high-risk prisoners would include these mechanics to induce an electrical shock but knowing Jing Yuan and his extreme power, it probably didn’t work on him.

His eyes finally met yours, narrowed and calculative—not the lazily warm way he used to. The biggest shock was how red they were, like freshly spilled blood than the warm golden light of the sun they used to be.

“You, why do you seem familiar? Who are you,” he grunted. You forced yourself to smile, gaze softening.

“Jing Yuan. It’s me. I know it’s been awhile. My hair might’ve changed a bit, but it’s me…” you whispered. You reached your hand and placed it on his cheek. As he recoiled back about to plant a counter attack on you, you could see him pause. He cautiously leaned back into your touch, eyes gazing up in your searching.

”...(Y/n)? You stayed. You didn’t leave after all!” he murmured. You could feel your heart shattered, as he grinned, wrapping his arms around you. His head leaned into the nape of your neck. 

”I’m so happy you decided to stay after all. I didn’t want to be selfish and prevent your dream from seeing other worlds in an attempt to find a solution to Yaoshi’s curse…” he whispered, hugging you tighter. “But I wanted nothing more for you to just be by my side…”

He leaned away, eyes now an orange hue, mind, and body fighting against the mara in his system. He leaned away, grabbing your waist. His once usual lazy grin on his pale face.

”Marry me…”

”Jing Yuan...”

”Marry me…please. I’ll find you the best ring I can tomorrow, so forgive me for being so forward. I want to spend these centuries with you, and you being here in front of my eyes proves we are meant to be with each other,” he murmured.

You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in tears hearing his confession. You had left wanting to find a cure, to fight against an Aeon, to see Jing Yuan happy that no one else in Xianzhou would have to fear being mara-struck, but you found yourself here.

The one person you feared most getting it, without anything to show for your travels. How did you think you could compete against an Aeon? Perhaps this was Yaoshi’s personal punishment to you.

Jing Yuan sighed, getting up. His chapped lips kissed the salty stream of tears from your cheeks.

”Shhh, qīnàide. Why are you crying, my love? This should be a happy moment,” he cooed. You shook your head, lips quivering as you hiccuped and struggled to stammer words out.

”Jing Yuan, I love you too. Of course, I would marry you but…”

”No but’s. You said yes…” he teased. You placed your hands on his cheeks, pleading with him. You pressed your forehead against his, hoping your touch would ground him.

“Jing Yuan, I did end up leaving. I still haven’t found a cure for mara…for you, for everyone suffering on the Xianzhou. It’s been over 100 years since I left and joined the Astral Express.”

”I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Your blurry vision looked up to see Jing Yuan. His eyes were red again, but they gazed softly against yours. He brought his hand down, gently caressing your soft hair.

”I know. I’m sorry for being confused at first. I’m sorry you’re seeing me in this state, but I still meant what I said,” Jing Yuan sighed as he brought your crying form on his chest, lying beneath the uncomfortably small bed.

”...I’m not going to be able to stop this, am I?” you asked the now fluid Jing Yuan. He flashed a somber smile. 

“...No.”

“Yanqing…”

“I know…”

You paused not knowing what to say.

“...I do have a favor to ask you though. However long we have to be together…” he murmured 

“Marry me. Be mine for an hour, a day, anything. I’m just happy to have you in my arms once more.” he murmured. Lifting his hand to wipe more tears. His nails were sharpened and black.

”...Anything for you, Jing Yuan.”

His lips reached over and kissed you. Hand gliding up your sides as if to remember the feel of your skin beneath his touch. His large palms found a way beneath your shirt, guiding the fabric over your head and onto the ground. 

He grabbed a handful of your chest. Lips moving away from your lips and trailing on your jaw and neck. You could feel his teeth were sharper than before, the tip of his canines grazing the sensitive subtle areas of your neck.

Jing Yuan easily ripped through his thin shirt, revealing areas where the mara could be physically seen, botches of his skin beginning to blacken and glow in golden hue.

Your hands gently glide down his large pectorals and abdomen, resting at the waist of his loose pants. Your hand darted beneath his pants, feeling his heavy cock beginning to rise from your touch.

Jing Yuan’s whole body shuttered before letting a grunt out. You tightly gripped his length, pulling it in a rhythmic motion as his breaths got heavier and heavier. Precum budded at his tip, as his cock quivered from your jerks.

You shimmied his pants down, as his cock slapped against his abdomen. You leaned down, poking your tongue out to lick the slit of its head. Jing Yuan grunted, eyebrows furrowed. His nails buried in the thin mattress of the bed, desperately trying to control himself.

Kissing his tip, you opened your mouth engulfing his length to your mouth. Salty yet sweet precum was already leaking down to your tongue. His grip was getting tighter, as an almost unhuman growl came from him.

“F-Fuck, darling!” Jing Yuan choked out with his head hung back to the wall. He desperately tried to quell his desires, wanting nothing more than to pull your head all the way down till he felt the back of your warm, wet throat. 

You bobbled your head up and down, fingers drifting down your pants. Noticing this, Jing Yuan easily ripped the fabric—exposing your slit, drooling and waiting for him. As your tongue hit a prominent vein at the back of his cock, his body became more rigid— gingko beginning to glow more. 

His large fingers swiped a finger between your folds and let it nudge against your throbbing clit with every stroke. Feeling your slick dripping down your inner thighs and his finger, he pushed past your puffy folds and slid it inside your dripping pussy. You bit your lip, barely muffling a moan feeling him pump. His eyes lapped up every shiver and moan from your lips. Memories of the times he had claimed you coming back to him. 

He could feel your cunt fluttered down on his fingers drilling inside of you. 

He wanted more. 

He wanted to make up for these hundreds of years of not being beside you.

“...(Y/n)!!” Jing Yuan grunted. He let his desires finally get to him as his hand went down to your head, pushing you deeper against his cock surprising you, as you slightly choked. His hips slightly bucked, as you grabbed onto his thighs nostrils flaring to try and breathe.

His hips jolted as ropes of thick cum shot to the back of your throat. You tried swallowing, but it felt like a never-ending stream. Eventually, you lifted your head coughing as his essence streamed down your lips. His pace continued to be brutal, letting his thumb rub tight circles against your clit as your thighs squeezed together.

“That’s how I remember you. Come now, let me be reminded of that cute expression of yours,” he cooed. Your body shivered as your back arched, finally reaching your high with his name echoed from your lips. Jing Yuan smiled, sliding out of your pulsating cunt.

Jing Yuan repositions themselves, hovering on top of his still-hardened cock. It was still twitching as the veins wrapped around it throbbed in excitement.

Cock teased against your slit, nudging the top against your needy clit repeatedly as it burned in stimulation. 

Catching your breath and looking down, you noticed his cock was unusual. In the darkness, you couldn’t tell much difference but observing it now, you could. You recalled him being long, and thick, with a few moles decorated near the base. It had a gradient now, his pale skin turning into an obsidian hue. His veins were golden, with every pulsate the light would brighten and dim. 

“I finally get to have you again…” he whispered out almost in ecstasy, moving on top of you.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance back and forth. Your body jolted as he slowly entered inside of you. You sucked a breath in, feeling him stretch you out wider and wider as he plunged deeper. 

Jing Yuan hummed,  letting his fingers swirl against your clit once more trying to distract you from the dull pain. A moan escaped your lips as he eventually bottomed out, tip hitting against your cervix.

Not even giving you time to get used to him, Jing Yuan began thrusting hard inside of you. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, fingers digging into the cheap sheets. The bed squeaked and moaned, wood hitting against the concrete wall with the rapid pace he had set.

His lips connected with your neck, sucking and nibbling the skin. His canines, poke you every so often. A groan escaped Jing Yuan’s lips, addicted to the feeling of having your cunt squeeze him, trying to milk every drop from him. His balls smacked against your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist. 

Lost in the pleasure, Jing Yuan let one of his hands go from your hips, noting the crescent moons from his sharp nails already developing there before grabbing onto your chin. He was drinking up your expressions. The way your lips curled and shouted his name. The light sheen of sweat on your skin. The smell of your perfume mixed with sex in the air.

He drank up one hundred years' worth like a man starving.

“I love you…I love you…I love you...I love you…” he grunted. His groans were becoming more and more unnatural and inhumane, as you desperately clung onto him.  

Your velvety walls squeezed tight feeling the ridges of his cock rub against that mouth-watering spot inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist in a futile attempt for him to get even deeper. 

His cock twitched inside of you as he propelled his cock inside of you faster. With his continued ministrations on your clit, it wasn’t long until you reached your second climax wrapping your arms around him.

He snapped his eyes shut, hips flattering letting ropes of his thick cum shoot inside of it. He slowly thrust, pushing it deeper, trying to nurse his body down from his high. A trail of his essence managed to leak out, and travel to your inner thighs despite his cock still plugged inside of you.

You caught your breath as Jing Yuan’s gaze shifted to the side, seemingly colder before meeting yours once more and warming up again. You brushed your hand against his white hair clinging to his forehead.

“...Will you be leaving again soon? I’m sure you can’t stay in my cell forever. 12 hours right?” he asked, placing his palms on top of yours that were on his cheeks. You could feel his cock still pulsating inside of you, his lazily bucking into you every so often.

“...Yes, but then in 24 hours I’ll see you again. I’m staying, this time. I promise. I’m going to make you better and make up for all that time,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him. Jing Yuan merely stared at the wall, crimson mara-struck eyes narrowing before turning to you and smiling.

“As long as you remain in the Luofu, by my side, I will be happy…” he replied.

The world seemed almost grey, your mind as foggy as a cloud. You don’t know how long you have been crying for. You just knew your eyes were puffy and stung from how much you had. 

A few days after you saw him, Jing Yuan went to the point of no return. Many soldiers were lost in the chaos of it all. 

Despite your visits, and him acting…mostly normal with you. Whenever you would leave, you’d hear reports the next day on how aggressive he had gotten. It only took three days for him to try to escape.

Reports read that he was set on leaving with you, no matter what it took. Yelling how he had to make it to the Express to see you. Or how you were waiting for him in your old shared apartment together. How you had promised you would come back to him. 

Seeing you in the flesh and leaving again and again, even for short periods, left Jing Yuan’s mara-struck form desperate to get you back again and feel “normal”. His sanity finally had gone, leaving nothing but the mara to control your once beloved boyfriend.

Yanqing gave the last blow last night in a hard fought battle.

There wouldn’t be any more visits and the hope of finding a cure. He is gone, for good now.

Yunli had given you a key to his old place, insisting to get anything before the Cloud Knights removed everything.

Yet you found yourself curled into his old apartment and bed gazing at the unsent letters hidden in his desk drawer. Stacks of them for years. You could hear his voice telling you about his day, what he was working on, how Yanqing was improving, how he missed Jingliu

…How he missed you.

How he wished he actually proposed.

How he wished he started a family with you.

But most of all, how he wished to see you happy.

“It’s okay though. As much longing in my heart I have, I feel pride knowing you are saving other words and looking to help the Xianshou people. Whenever I look to the stars, I think of you. I love you. I wish I could see your smile right now.”

[mjalford98]

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A belated happy Easter to all my good followers! ⛪😇 Apprenticeship (work & study) commitments have hindered my freedom to process & post photos of late, but now things seem to be setting down a little, and with the world starting to look a little greener, hopefully there'll be a few more posts on the way. It is an old Christian tradition to buy new clothes & wear them for the 1st time on Easter Sunday. The new clothes symbolise the new life of the Resurrection, and in some parts of the world, Easter parades became popular as a means of celebrating the feast & showing off one's new apparel. In the spirit thereof, I recently decided to order an extra-wide "kipper" tie first popularised in the 1940s, and resurfacing again in the 70s. Most ties of such cut available today are of 70s styling, with bold colours & patterns, but I was happy to get hold of a more conservative 40s style. Over the past few months, I've begun working on developing a personal style that uses classic garments readily available to create a truly timeless style that doesn't look too out of place on a modern street, but gives a definite nod to move historical styles. I've long had an affinity for classic & historical styles, but it was my developing interest in the new traditional architecture movement that really piqued my interest in classic fashion. After all, if a building can be seen as part of a 'brand', and if there's something to be said for creating beautiful buildings to make people happy just to see them, why can't the same be said of the clothes we wear. So when I dress with classic style in mind, it's not just for me, it's also for those who see me. I may not know them, nor even see them again, but hopefully that passing encounter will have made at least someone's day a bit happier.

[morrigan-le-faye]

Alright Tumblr, time to make yourself useful. Help me get through my TBR.

[avelera]

Thinking about Hob Gadling in 1589, or rather in the decades leading up to 1589 when we see him as Sir Robert Gadlen

Thinking about how he went north, twice, to come back as his own son, presumably to build the myth of the Gadlen family. Before that, as a soldier, a brigand, and a tradesman in printing, he probably didn't have enough money to need to "leave it" to a son, because he'd had no real assets. No houses, no businesses, nothing besides his weapons and armor, the proverbial clothes on his back, and what spoils of war could be carried with him.

But to make money you have to spend it, you have to have it, you have to invest it. 1389, the year of Hob gaining immortality, corresponds to the birth year of Cosimo de' Medici, the man who would establish the great banking dynasty of Florence, Italy. I note this because this transformation in Europe corresponds with Hob's progress through immortality and rather roughly corresponds to when, as I see it, he would have moved from an individual soldier of fortune to make his living to needing some sort of continuity of identity if he was going to move beyond that.

In this instance, pretending to be his own son (or relative) would be a necessity to inherit his own wealth so he could carry it forward for the next 10-30 years, before he'd have to reinvent himself again. The money to buy a knighthood would be the work of generations.

I'm thinking about Hob building himself up from being a printer's apprentice (because printing was so new a trade that it was probably one of the few where he could get in as a man perpetually in his 30s, most apprenticeships would require you to begin as a child) to gaining his knighthood. By his own admission of faking his death twice by 1589, he'd be Robert Gadlen the Third, possibly the Fourth (not that this was a naming convention back then for commoners, but more to illustrate where 1589 Hob stood in the line of his own fictional family inheritance).

The first half of the 1500s in England under Henry VIII still saw a predominance of nobility holding the lion's share of power, but it did see something of a shift where you had noteworthy men rise to great heights from common origin, like Thomas Wolsey and Thomas Cromwell (yes, I'm rewatching Wolf Hall, why do you ask?).

But now to the point that got me thinking about this: imagine Hob in the 1500s. At the beginning of the century he is the first of his name, building his fortune. Robert Gadlen, who made his money in the printing business then invested it, through a great stroke of luck in to the powers-that-would-be that century: the Tudor shipyards. Hob building himself from very nearly nothing, peasant stock, nothing more than a soldier and a brigand before that. It's still grubby to build oneself up from trade, better to have been born to wealth of course, this isn't American Yankeedom and we're before the Puritans, where showing one's hard work was a virtue rather than an ugly necessity of the common people. But Hob still did it, with his own hands.

Imagining Robert Gadlen II, and Robert Gadlen III, the "scion" of a family on the rise, sniffing around the edges of the Tudor court, eventually finding his way in, having enough gold to buy himself a knighthood.

Imagining Robert Gadlen, meeting one of those common men in the service of Henry VIII, noting with chagrin their own common birth, the sons of blacksmiths and butchers, unlike Sir Robert, whose father was a man of means who left a growing fortune to his son.

And I can't help but imagine Hob smiling, a little slyly because he did it, he slipped passed the censors, no one knows of the fact he was born to peasant stock almost 200 years ago, and no one ever will. As far as anyone knows, he was born wealthy, a gentleman in the rising social consciousness that all it takes to be a gentleman is to have the money to act as one.

But I can't help but wonder if that smile would be just a little uncomfortable, too. Because no one will ever know. No one will ever know that Sir Robert Gadlen didn't inherit his money, that he's not some child of nepotism and generational wealth who has never worked and never starved. He is the founder of his own family, he built it himself and with each generation that goes by he has to leave more and more of that story behind him. Except with Dream.

[tsukii0002]

Can you imagine how much Solomon regrets the beginning of his relationship with Mc? I mean, he had the opportunity to be the major support and the person that Mc always turned to, for simply being human (a human bordering on demonic, yes, but a human after all) for a young human, who had practically been dragged to literal hell, surrounded by demons and dangers, he could have been, in Mammon's words, Mc's first. Because I have no doubt that they would have quickly trusted him if the wizard had been more friendly and less mysterious. I mean, who gives more confidence a suspicious human or a suspicious demon?

But the little gentleman decided to observe Mc from afar, with curiosity, like someone who observes an experimental subject. He took it as something fun, that's all. Everything to fall head over heels in love a season later, and cursed the moment he made the decisions he made.

Because it was too late, the people Mc trusted the most (despite everything) were the brothers, and the witty sorcerer would now have to slowly make his way into his apprentice's heart, that's if he makes it, because on top of that the competition now was greater than at the beginning, when he could have been the fastest to win Mc's heart.

.

.

[mytheoristavenue]

BES Mizu x Reader - Tranquility

Summary: One evening, two odd fellows walk into your father's inn, requesting keep.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Reader believes Mizu is male, comfort, angst, use of he/him and she/ her pronouns for Mizu depending on POV

Humming gently, you busied your hands, bustling about the front room of your father's humble inn, dusting, polishing, sweeping- anything to pass the time. With your back turned, you hardly noticed the pair of men that wandered in, ducking under the curtain entrance.

"Welcome in!" you chirped over your shoulder, hearing footsteps approach the counter. Hurrying over and behind it, you turned to face them with a warm grin. "Good afternoon, sirs. How may I be of service?"

"We need a room," the shorter one said. He was significantly more slender than his companion and wore looser clothing and a wide kasa that obscured his face. "Two beds."

You nodded obediently. "Of course sir, and for how many nights?"

"One." He answered sternly, angling his head even deeper down.

"Alright," you processed his answer, making note of it. "And will you be requiring meals or would you prefer to dine elsewhere?"

"Here is fine," he replied, digging into a pocket to retrieve a sachel of currency. "Two dinners and two breakfasts. How much?" You quickly added up the total for the stay and four meals and told him what the charge was. To your surprise, he dropped even more in front of you. "I like my privacy, other than meal service, make sure no one disturbs me."

"Of course, sir!" you nodded profusely, swiftly making sure their payment was in the right place, before coming out from behind the counter. "Allow me to escort you to your room!"

-----

Now alone and behind closed doors, the pair of travelers began laying down their luggage, stretching from the relief of no longer having to carry their belongings on their backs. "Ringo," Mizu said suddenly, leaning her sword against a nearby wall as she sat down. "Go out and get us some more provisions, it'll be a while before we get to another village after we leave. Take this," Glancing up at her apprentice, she handed over a list of supplies and the same sachel of gold she'd paid with moments ago. "I'm going to rest while you're out, so try not to disturb me when you get back."

"Yes, master!" The man said seriously, a bit too much so as he saluted her before leaving. The samurai simply rolled her eyes at his unknowingly silly gesture and sighed.

It wasn't long into her quiet time that she was distracted by the softest knock on the wood frame of the door. "Service," your gentle voice called from the other side. Scoffing, Mizu called back, granting you permission to enter.

-----

You smiled when you heard the gentleman call back 'Enter.', sliding the panel away and lifting a tray from the floor before carrying it into the room. "Your meal tonight will be soba, but it won't be ready for a good while. I thought I'd bring you and your companion some refreshments in the meantime. Complementary, of course."

"Do all your guests get treated to free refreshments before dinner?" he asked, suspiciously, sitting cross-legged at a table in the center of the room.

"Well..." you blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you fell to your knees beside him. "Not exactly. Your meal will come with tea and sake, but I wanted to show my appreciation for..."

"You wanted to earn the extra money I gave you." he deduced. "I gave you that in exchange for leaving me alone so, admittedly, you aren't doing a very good job of earning it so far. I'd prefer you to respect my wishes than to bother me with special treatment."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and rejection. "I-I'm sorry," you sputtered, reclaiming the few things you'd set on the table in preparation to return the tray to the kitchen. "I'll just take this back, didn't mean to offend."

"Wait, you can stay." The mysterious man sighed, bringing his hand up and pressing his palm to the top of his kasa, removing it. Underneath it was silky midnight hair, tied back in a taught bun, with a rogue strand that framed his face. Though, most striking about his appearance, were his glasses. They were round and petite with an onyx frame and amber lenses. Noticing your attention, his eyes darted towards you. "Haven't you ever been told that staring is impolite?"

Shaking your head furiously, cheeks once again aglow, you returned to your current task. "Deepest apologies! I was only observing your glasses, they are-"

You could feel his glare on you intensify even with your gaze away. "They're what?"

"P-Pretty..." you muttered truthfully, instantly regretting using such a feminine adjective to describe something a man wore. "They're a nice color is all..."

The man shifted backward, seemingly surprised by your compliments, and for just a moment, his harsh demeanor faltered a bit. "Well...thank you," he muttered bashfully before clearing his throat and darting back into his shell upon noticing that you were beginning to pour a cup of sake. "Just tea," he corrected sternly. "I don't drink."

You straightened at his comment, pausing for a moment. "Apologies," you nodded, setting the vessel back down on the tray to remind yourself to take it back with you when you leave. "I don't believe I've ever served a man who didn't prefer sake." you mused with a small smile.

"I'm not other men," he answered shortly.

"Yes, you're entirely different..." you sighed with glowing cheeks, pouring his tea. "You're a true and honorable gentleman, I can tell."

For the first time since the pair had come in, the traveler smiled- smirked even. It was a cocky look that sent a shiver down your spine when you glanced up and his found sharp amber eyes staring back. "You're quite forward for a service girl, aren't you?"

Your eyes blew wide at his comment and your cheeks caught fire which spread even to the tips of your ears. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to speak so freely!" Somehow in your anxious haste, you'd lost your grasp on the tea kettle in your hand, and you quickly lunged forward to catch it, luckily saving it before it could spill- or worse, shatter.

Unfortunately, your cheer for victory was incredibly short-lived by the hiss of your guest, who had begun tugging his clothes away from his body. Stream rose from his torso and you went pale. It seemed that, in your rush to catch the kettle, you'd reached over the table and knocked the freshly poured cup of hot tea into the poor man's stomach.

Without a second thought, you immediately crawled over, pulling a handkerchief from the chest of your kosode and began dabbing at his chest and stomach, profusely apologizing all while. You could feel him tense beneath your touch, rigid an no longer wriggling form the discomfort of the steaming liquid coating his skin. To his horror, in your haste, you began to tug at his sleeves, pulling them off his shoulders slightly.

"I'm so very sorry, sir!" you cried, beginning to disrobe him. "I'm so clumsy! I swear I'll make this right, let me just-" you continued, untying his belt, his protests completely lost on you in your panicked state. "I'll take your clothes and launder them, free of charge! A-And I'll get you a full refund on your stay!"

"N-no, please," the man began to tremble, breath caught in his throat as you inched him closer and closer to nudity. "It's fine, all's forgiven, there's no need to-" His hands felt heavy as he tied to pry you away, and by the time he'd gathered the ability to calm himself, you'd already stopped. You were entirely frozen as the fabric of his shirt felt from your hand.

"I-I..." you sputtered, unsure of what to say, or even if to speak at all. You'd rather just stay frozen.

"I-I appreciate the offer to launder my clothes, but please," the traveler gave an exacerbated sigh, "Let me undress myself."

You slowly nodded, never breaking eye contact as he gripped his garment closed and gingerly traced the hem of it and where it fell on his chest. Suddenly, out of his peripheral, he watched you lift something off the floor, setting the object in his lap. Then he realized, you weren't looking at his body. Glancing down, he noticed his glasses, folded neatly and resting in the creased crotch of his baggy pants.

"Get out." he snapped, finally putting himself into gear. "I will leave my clothes outside my door for you to wash. Have them back to me as soon as possible. And yes, you will be refunding my stay." he seethed as you instantly jumped up and hurried out of the room.

-----

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mizu stressed, pacing the room, and tugging at her hair. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but her clothes were ruined, she'd at least have to wash them in some creek somewhere. But then, what about Ringo? She could leave him, but knowing him, he'd find her and lecture her about the importance of facing your problems instead of running from them. She'd forced you out before she'd had a chance to read your reaction, but then again, she'd never experienced a good one. You were probably on your way to tell someone- or worse, inform authorities on her whereabouts.

Even worse, she could her her chest bindings beginning to soak with tea, creating a terrible moist feeling between her breasts. She'd have to change the bandages, lest her skin begin to chafe. With every odd stacked against her leaving, she decided to stay. You only knew of her eye color, after all. At least you hadn't figured out all of her secrets.

All she had to do was keep her body hidden and charm you into not telling about her eyes, she could do this. You were tripping all over yourself over one snarky comment, surly she could convince you to keep quiet, right?

I hope you guys enjoyed this, there will be a part two coming (hopefully) soon, which I will link in this post when it is finished! Please like, comment, and reblog if you like this, it really helps encourage me to continue, and with this being a fandom for me to write for, it helps a lot to know what y'all interact with most!

[justkillingthyme]

YES 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Since you’re an ace attorney fan, I’d recommend starting with the crossover (plvsaa) to ease you into the dynamic and style

If you want the games chronologically, start with Last Specter/Spectre’s Call. Between that and the next game is the movie (Eternal Diva) if you’re interested, then there’s Miracle Mask. The final game is Azran Legacy for the prequel trilogy. Then there’s the original trilogy, Curious Village, then Diabolical Box/Pandora’s Box, and finally Unwound Future/Lost Future. Post canon games and spin offs I’m not too familiar with, but they’re set in the future following his kids.

If you want to play in game release order, start with Curious Village through Unwound Future, then play the prequel trilogy. This will ease you into The Jank TM so it’s not a jumpscare of the difference in quality (of both the story and artwork)

Either way is fine! Be free and do what you want forever

LAYTON FANS SHOUKD I PLAY LAYTON YES OR NO

(And if so where should I start??)

[be-with-me-so-happily]

il gran finale

ONE SHOT

Summary: As photography apprentice to Lloyd Wakefield, you have been around Harry quite a lot on tour, capturing all the mesmerizing moments on stage. But at the after party of the final show in Reggio Emilia, he seems to be the one zoned in on you.

AN: I don't know if this is any good. I haven't written smut in so long, but with Love On Tour coming to an end, I needed to do something!

Warnings: Some explicit language, alcohol consumption, mild exhibitionism kink, fingering, public unprotected intercourse (wrap it before you tap it people)

You've always known Harry Styles is a gentleman. Even before you took on the role of apprentice photographer to Lloyd Wakefield, you only ever heard positive comments about the man, about how kind and caring he is. No one ever has a bad thing to say, and touring with him has only proven those things to be true. He is a sweet guy, just as everyone claims him to be.

That's his reputation. His public reputation.

But the way his enchanting and lustful green eyes have locked in on you for the past several minutes has made you think of nothing but the other reputation he has. The dream that you and thousands of his fans indulge in. The fantasy of him taking control of every single part of you, of using you, of pleasing you. Of giving you everything he has while you are under him, and on top of him, and in front of him, and…

You reset yourself as nearby laughter pulls you out of those delicious yet indelicate thoughts, ones you may need to draw upon later in the privacy of your hotel room.

It's bad enough that he has a flirtatious side. The subtle winks, the cheeky smiles, the wiggles of his eyebrows when a mildly indecent comment has been made. Usually by him. Both on and off stage, each of those gestures can easily get you flustered.

And it definitely doesn't make your job any easier, especially considering it's your assignment to watch him, to photograph him, to view him in a variety of different angles, none of which could be considered unflattering. He always looks good.

The outfit tonight, the shaggy silver get-up, showcasing his glistening pecs and chiseled abs, only added to the assortment of desires you only dwell upon alone at night. You're usually very composed, for the most part. You know how to play it cool.

But right now, as his stare exhibits something primal, you feel as if your entire body is on fire, and you can't help but be engulfed by the flames.

Clinking of the ice in your glass as you bring it to your lips alerts you to the fact that your drink has been fully consumed, and you decide to head to the bar for a refill. If not just for another drink, then for the moment of solidarity to gather yourself and bring some air back into your lungs. Because you are sure it's not the alcohol that's causing you to feel so dizzy.

"Hi, could I please hav-"

"Another margarita?" You hear in a deep, sultry, British voice sounding out from behind you. Right behind you.

"Yes please." You utter, almost inaudibly, to the bartender, the heat from before intensifying with each breath of Harry's that you feel on your neck.

"And I'll have two shots of Tequila, please sir." He states, so casually, as you stand frozen in place.

A cold breeze hits your skin as you see him move around and position himself to your left, leaving you to miss the warmth he was just providing.

"You look like you're having a good time." He states, as he brings his glass to his lips. You watch as the rim rests on them. You watch as the liquid slides between them. And you watch as a smirk pulls in the mischievous dimple that he is so well known for, unintentionally licking your own lips in the process.

"Sorry… what were you saying?" You ask, attention moving back to his gaze and finding those glistening green irises already locking in on your eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?" He chuckles in response to your question, leaving your heart pounding with embarrassment.

"I am!" You exclaim, quicker than anticipated, clearly not playing it cool like you believe you usually do.

"Good." He replies simply.

"Are you?"

"I am." He nods, his eyes quickly flickering down your body, before switching their focus back to the bar, creating a warmth between your legs, and you try desperately not to squirm.

"Good." You reply, with a giggle, finally taking the sip of margarita that has unknowingly been sitting in front of you for a few minutes. "So we're both enjoying ourselves."

He chuckles along with you, shaking his head as he throws back his second shot. He swallows it harshly, drawing your eye to the way his Adam's apple bobs with the consumption of the liquor. You notice his body begin to turn towards you, and as you glaze up his neck to his gorgeous face, a lustful expression falls over it. His brows narrow, and deviancy sparks in his eyes, turning them to a deep, enticing emerald.

"Want to enjoy each other now?"

"Sure, that-" You begin to respond, but your eyes begin to travel down to his lips, noticing how his teeth dig into the bottom one. His look of determination makes you wonder if there's a more devious meaning behind it, and that thought alone causes an extreme yearning between your legs. "Wait… what do you mean?"

He leans against the bar, his tattoo-covered forearm resting on top, as the palm of his right hand gently slides over your hip and draws you closer with the mildest press of his fingertips against your dress.

"YN, I just had one of the best nights of my fucking life! I want to celebrate. Really celebrate."

"And… how-... umm… how do you want to really celebrate?" You chuckle nervously, every hair on your body standing straight, every nerve on high alert.

"I can show you. If you want me to." He utters, almost a whisper, barely audible in the jumble of conversations surrounding you, but loud enough that it sends the coldest shiver down your spine. He leans closer, his body following along until you are only inches apart. "And considering how tightly your thighs are clenched together right now… I think you do."

Your mouth instantly drops open, and if he wasn't actually correct, and those contracted muscles weren't holding you upright, your legs would have buckled beneath you.

"C'mon." He whispers, softly running two fingers down your arm and grabbing your hand, pulling your body to follow him.

"Harry, wait." You manage to get out, surprisingly, considering the daze he's just put you in. "This… is your party..."

"Yeah." He states, shrugging so casually as he turns back to look at you. "So?"

"We can't just leave!"

Harry stops his trek, along with your heart. He swivels around, the most salacious smirk wide across his face, and to your surprise, you manage to clench your core even tighter.

He leans down to your ear, his lip barely grazing the bottom, his breath steady but thick.

"Who said anything about leaving?"

An exhale releases all the air held in your lungs, leaving you unsure whether it is the margaritas or his suggestive statement that's making your head spin.

He turns back and maneuvers through the crowd of people that have come to congratulate and party with him. But he seems to be a man on a mission.

Through the dim lights and the loud thumps of the music filling the room, you somehow find yourself looking at a staircase leading up the the second floor of the venue.

"Just us?" You hear Harry ask the security staff member guarding the way.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." He responds with a quick nod.

Without hesitation, Harry leads you up, each step building the anxious anticipation inside of you. It's not even clear what may be waiting for you at the top, but if Harry's apparent determination is any indication, it won't be boring.

As you reach the landing, you do a quick scan of your surroundings, seeing a couple of purple velvet sofas pushed against the wall. He takes you further in, letting go of your hand and placing both of his large palms on the thick, black railing in front of him. You stand at his side, copying his stature, though feeling the sweat of your hands being transferred to the metal within them.

The neon flashing of lights is the only thing brightening the venue, as the music sounds and provides a rhythm for the rest of the attendees to move their bodies to. You feel Harry's closest arm glide its way across your back, settling itself on your opposite hip, and squeezing with enough firmness to tell you he wants to be gentle with you, but also wants not to be.

The rest of his figure moves along behind you, pulling you closer to him, as if your bodies had an unretractable magnetic connection. The warmth of his lips suddenly hits right below your ear, causing every muscle you have to practically melt under that simple touch.

"Harry…" You utter, unsure if you've been heard over the sound of the new song beginning to play. "People could see us…"

"Doubtful." He mumbles, his breath tickling down your neck. "No one's looking anyway."

Another kiss moistens your skin, and your head falls backwards to him, resting against his broad, strong shoulder, encouraging him to continue his tantalizing exploration.

He grazes your hips with his palms, running them up and down the tops of your thighs, letting out a heavy exhale when he stops at the hem of your dress. His fingertips tease the edge, sliding around to the front. One hand lifts up to your waist, while the other glides around to your inner thigh, and you could swear your panties are already soaked.

"Do you like this?" He whispers in your ear, and with the state of daze he currently has you in, all you can manage is a subtle nod. "Tell me. Do you like this?"

"Y-yes." You breathe out.

"Do you want more?" He asks in the lowest tone he's ever spoken in, barely needing to convince you that he'll give you whatever you want.

"Yes." You reply, anticipation thick in your stomach.

His fingers run up and under your dress, and you thank yourself for picking the shorter of your two options when you were getting ready for the party.

You attempt to push him back a few paces to the closest velvet sofa for some privacy, but he stands solid in place and you stretch your neck to get as good of a look at him as you can.

"Stay." He states simply, not a demand that you couldn't reject, but the way his tone hit your soul, you can't even imagine refusing him of almost anything he wanted.

Suddenly your body jumps, as you feel mild pressure slowly moving up the center of your panties.

"Soaked." Harry whispers. "Didn't realize I got you this wet, this fast."

His teeth begin to nibble on your earlobe, as his fingers snap the fabric of your underwear, causing you to let out the most pathetic and needy whimper.

"Harry… please." You whine, desperate for something, anything, that he is willing to give you.

"What do you want, YN?"

"Touch me." You reply, your legs already weak at the thought.

He listens, running his index along your center, feeling how slick he's made you. Suddenly, he dips it inside of you, and you worry he could make you cum right here and now. But god you want to feel so much more. You want him to give you so much more.

Slowly, his finger pulls out, but immediately glides back in, accompanied by another, pumping them both in unison, and sending your head into a spin.

"Do you want more?" He asks into your ear.

"Yes." You barely reply, hoping with all you have that he heard your response.

He adds one more finger, and the trio pick up their pace as his thumb puts the perfect amount of pressure on your clit.

"Oh my god." You whine, feeling a sensation ripple through your body. Nothing you've done to yourself, alone with just your thoughts of him, could ever compare to the feeling of what he's doing to you now.

In and out, his fingers pump, and you're sure if the music suddenly stopped, the noise of his motions would echo from wall to wall.

"You're so tight." He utters. "Don't know if you'd be able to handle my cock."

Just the mention of that word has you moaning, so you reach your arm up to grab onto the back of his neck, and you tilt your head towards him.

"I want that."

"You want what?" He asks, quickening his pace, and halting your words until you swallow the lump that's caught in your throat.

You look down, scanning the crowd for any prying eyes, only to find everyone distracted by their own activities below. Although, at this moment, you aren't sure if that matters to you. If that would stop you.

"I want your cock." You admit, using your free hand to push in between your two bodies and palm over his hard bulge, the feeling of his thick girth creating an even deeper yearning for it.

"Fuck." He growls, his cock twitching under the fabric of his pants.

The emptiness created as his fingers leave your body almost has you wishing you hadn't made any other request, but as you feel his waistband tug down, and the bare skin of his cock as it springs out from its confines and back into your hand, you get wetter than you've been in any moment before.

A strong thigh parts your legs, the back of your dress inches up, and as you feel his long, thick cock glide between them and coat itself in your wetness, Harry lets out a deep, rumbling growl. He runs one hand up your spine and pushes slightly on your back, getting you to bend over a bit and prop yourself up with your hands gripping the railing.

There's never been a desperation so intense as now, as you feel Harry's tip tease your entrance. You've never wanted anything more than the sensation of him pushing into you, stretching you out, giving you everything you've ever fantasized about.

"Think you can fit me inside there?" He asks, the smugness more enticing than you could have imagined possible. But his words, his touch, his everything is overwhelming and rendering you speechless. Then you hear Harry hum, as if knowing your inability to reply, and answering it for himself. "I think you can."

And just like that, he slips in. Slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size each time he pushes in a little further. Filling you completely with every inch he goes deeper, until all you feel is him. Until all you know is him.

"Oh my god." You moan out, unaware if it has been drowned out by the music and chatter of everyone else.

He quickens his pace slightly, and your hold on the railing tightens, not only to steady yourself, but also to possibly disguise your actual activities as simply enjoying the rhythm of the song.

"All these people… and no one knows what we're doing up here." Harry grunts as he thrusts into you, drawing out another, yet much heavier, moan from your chest. It's followed by a pleased groan from behind you, the sound almost as good as any song he's ever sung. "But I wouldn't care if they did… if they saw how well you're taking me… and if they heard much you love it."

"Harry…" You whine, as an extreme sensation builds in your core, feeling every nerve peek, alerting you to the fact that at any moment now, you'll be completely taken over by the intense amount of pleasure he's giving you. "I need to-"

"No." He states sternly.

"Please!" You beg, all dignity being tossed aside.

"Not yet." He replies, and all of a sudden, you feel hollow. Something is missing, and as you feel yourself clear out from the heightened state of a daze you've been in since you reached that second level of the venue, you realize his glorious cock is no longer inside of you.

"What-" You begin, stepping back and turning around to face him, finding his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip, creating an even stronger desire to have him fill the gap again.

"I need to fuck you harder, and faster." He explains grabbing both hips as he backs up and lowers down to take a seat on the sofa. "And I need to watch you when you cum all over my cock."

A shallow breath makes its way out between your lips at his statement, and you slowly lower yourself to straddle his lap, feeling a throb inside yourself as you feel another underneath you.

Your hips begin to grind on him, hoping to create an impatience in him as strong as the one in you. You cup his cheeks within your palms and bring your lips to his, smiling against them as they part and release a deep moan. You move to kiss his jaw, letting the stubble tickle your skin and you make your way down his neck. His hands begin to roam your body, exploring more than they had been able to when standing at the railing. They grip your back, your waist, and settle at your hips, gripping just tight enough to guide them back and forth.

"All I've thought about tonight… is having you like this." You hear him utter, the words hitting deep into the pit of your stomach. "Hell, all I think about most nights is… fuck… is having you like this!"

You pull back, your eyes immediately locking in on his, as if your bodies are confessing their deepest desires to each other in a secret, seductive language. Without a word, you push up on your knees, hovering over and inviting him back inside of you, where you want him the most. One of his hands holds his cock steady as the other remains on you, helping you to lower back down onto him. In this position, you can feel him ever more, much to your surprise considering he filled you so well just moments ago.

"Then fuck me how you've been wanting to." You state, your focus still fully on him.

As soon as he's given that permission, both palms squeeze tighter to your body, pulling you down on his cock as if to meld your bodies together.

"Oh god." He exclaims, throwing his head backwards to rest on the sofa, dropping his mouth open as you begin to bounce.

Almost instantly, with the new depth he's hitting, you feel your body reignited and a release drawing near.

"Harry, this is…" You mumble, the pleasure hindering a complete coherent sentence. "It's… how…"

"Tell me, baby." He replies, holding you down as he starts to thrust up into you, leaving you unable to feel anything other than him.

"This is how… oh my-… I've been wanting you… to fuck me, too…"

"F-... fucks sake!" He exclaims, no longer holding back his vigor as he goes as fast and gets as deep as he possibly can, causing moans to burst out from both of you.

"Harr-... I'm gon-..." You whine, trying to plead with him to get you over the edge and fall into a pool of ecstasy. The sight of his hair becoming messy with sweat, the feel of his hands holding you down, the taste of his skin on your lips, the smell of his cologne exuding off his chest, the sound of his breathy moans in your ear. He has completely taken over all of your senses, and you know this is the best experience you've ever had.

"Say it, YN. Look at me and say it." He growls, and as your eyes find his, the amount of lust in his begins to push you off the ledge.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Where?"

"On your cock!" You blurt, the level of volume coinciding with the intensity of your desperation. "I'm gonna cum on your cock."

"Do it." He commands, and with his permission, you immediately let go, completely melting into him as that desired ecstasy rips through your entire body.

Your face falls into the crook of his neck, only leaving enough room to draw in some shallow, labored breaths. You can feel Harry squirm beneath you, his stride becoming less rhythmic with each stroke into you, his chest rising and falling in the same, unsteady way.

"YN… if I can't cum inside you, tell me now, 'cause I'm… fuck, I'm so close."

Your head lifts and pulls away, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, pupils blown and a glaze covering them. You lean down to his ear, letting your breath puff gently over his skin.

"Cum inside of me, Harry." You whisper, placing a kiss right below his ear.

"Y-yeah? You want my cum?" He fumbles, his breathing becoming more random with every sloppy thrust. "I'll give you… f-fucking all of it!"

Harry grips tighter, bouncing you on himself with a determination you aren't sure if you've ever seen before. He lets out a moan so gritty you know it originated deep in his chest. The sound alone could have you orgasming again if it drew out a few seconds longer. It's accompanied by one last thrust of his hips and a powerful, pleased throbbing of his cock, as his cum coats your walls.

If the dj wasn't blasting anything through the speakers, the sound of your synchronized, labored breaths would be enough to fill the room. You sit up straighter, still straddling Harry's lap, and you finally take in the mess of a man in front of you. His head still rests back on the sofa, his eyes now shut, and a blissful smile stretched across his face.

"That's one way to finish a tour." You chuckle, pushing your palms against the fabric of the shirt now sticking to the drizzle of sweat on his chest.

His palms shoot up to your face, holding it so gently, but with an untapped passion behind his eyes. They flicker to your lips and he dives in for a taste, running his tongue along to part them, and sighing as your own tongue dances along. A pop sounds out as you pull apart, with just enough room for an inhale of air, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"And cheers to the next one."

Main Masterlist

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[muffin-snakes-art]

Professor Magolor and top apprentice gentleman in training Elfilin Triton!

[comfortless]

All That You Don’t Want

PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König

CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k

You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.

The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?

Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.

“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.

A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.

You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.

It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?

You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.

“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.

“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.

“Ja?” You question.

“Yes.”

You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.

He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.

You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.

You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.

It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.

He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.

“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.

He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”

You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.

“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”

“Well, I don’t hunt.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.

“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.

The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.

You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.

“I want to teach you,” he tries again.

You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?

“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.

He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.

— — —

You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.

You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.

König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.

“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”

König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.

— — —

Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.

It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.

And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.

It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.

A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.

“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.

“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”

“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.

A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.

“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.

“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.

God damnit.

“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.

“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.

God damnit all.

“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.

He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.

Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.

— — —

You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.

It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.

König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.

But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.

It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.

The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.

While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?

“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”

You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.

He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”

König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.

“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.

“But you are alone,” he insists.

“I am not. You’re here.”

Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”

His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.

You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”

The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.

“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.

“What? König, no… that’s not how—”

“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.

“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!

“I think about you at night.”

The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.

“In the river too.”

“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.

“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.

He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.

But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.

— — —

Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.

You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.

It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.

The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”

It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.

You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.

He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.

“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.

“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.

“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”

He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”

König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.

You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.

You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.

“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.

He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.

When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.

“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.

You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.

“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.

“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.

“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”

His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.

He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.

He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.

“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.

König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.

“Of course I want you to stay!”

“Then… Ja, I will.”

It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.

König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.

He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.

Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.

“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure who says it first.

— — —

“A deer?”

There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.

König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.

König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.

“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.

“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”

If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.

“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.

You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”

The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.

König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.

You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—

“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”

There is no time.

“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“

You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.

It wasn’t his fault.

König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.

He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.

A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.

When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.

“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”

We. Us. Together.

Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.

“So, tell me where we’ll go.”

He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.

He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Hiromi Higuruma; Wardrobe Malfunction

a/n: my first hiromi fic and it's for kinktober eeee! I love him. 18+ only. Hiromi fucks reader in courtroom and fucks reader from behind, wardrobe malfunction, dirty talk, hiromi is pretty smooth lol, reader's quite hard on herself. wc 2.0k

Kinktober Masterlist

You knew the blouse was a bad idea.

You were a goddamn fool. Why had you waited so long to do laundry? So you could shuffle into court, more court jester than lawyer, and astonish everyone with your messiness. You’d rolled out of bed this morning only to find all of your work clothes, save some slacks and your current blouse, crowded in the washing machine. Because of your negligence, you had no other shirts to wear but the ill-fitting hand-me-down courtesy of your sister’s you adorned now.

You made it to court, but just barely. You couldn’t disappoint Higuruma, the man you were shadowing — but maybe it would’ve been better had you stayed home; giggles and chuckles followed you all throughout the proceedings. Higuruma had gestured to you to bring him something pertinent to his defense. You raised to the occasion, reaching out an arm.

“Here you go, Mr. Higu —“ 

You felt the buttons of your blouse snap, revealing your pink bra underneath —

You yelped, withdrawing your arm from a wide-eyed Higuruma to shield yourself. Thunderous laughter followed your plop back down in your chair.

“All right, enough,” said the judge among the raucous laughter.

 But giggles persisted regardless, albeit fainter after his order. They came to an end when and only when Higuruma offered you his suit jacket soon after.

After it was over, you were red in the face. Notes full of messy penmanship sat in your jiggling lap. You felt close to crying. 

“It’ll be all right,” Higuruma said, ever the gentleman. He came over to you as people in the courtroom cleared out. “The prosecution probably didn’t even see —“

“Oh, spare me!” You ran a hand over your ruddy face, felt tears well up in your eyes. “I looked like an idiot today and you know it!” 

I looked like an idiot in front of you, too.

A blink and Higuruma had a hand around your recessed shoulders. He pulled your hand away from your face. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, blinking miserably up at him. “Mr. Higu —“

“Enough with the pleasantries,” Higuruma said. “Call me Hiromi.”

A flutter danced in your chest despite your misery. “Hiromi …”

But he wasn’t looking in your eye anymore, his gaze having dropped down to your chest currently still covered by his jacket.

“I believe they laughed because they’re jealous,” Hiromi said. “That gorgeous figure of yours …”

You were red now for very different reasons. “I …” You trailed. “What do you mean?”

Tentatively, Hiromi brought his hand to shy away the front of his jacket. Your ruined shirt was exposed again, along with hints of your cherry-blossom bra. “I,” he said, voice husky, “like how you look in my jacket …”

“Hiromi …” You were astounded, felt an instinctive need to cover yourself again before Hiromi shed his jacket from your shoulders.

“But, I think I’d prefer it if you wore nothing …”

This was insane. What was happening? In your pregnant pause, Hiromi leaned forward and captured your lips — gently at first, for you startled at the suddenness of it all — and held your chin in his palm. 

The unreality of it all kept you rooted on the spot, but your shock had to rival the touch of Hiromi’s kiss. It melted away; your body reacted so fluidly to his gentle yet insistent touch, and the kiss that grew more peremptory by the second. 

“This is inappropriate,” You said in between kisses. You shivered at Hiromi’s hand slipping past the lace of a bra cup. “We — oh — could get …” 

“It’s okay,” Hiromi murmured. “There’s no one else here after all …”

But this was a courtroom. Surely the two of you wouldn’t be alone for long. What would they think to see Hiromi Higuruma fondling his apprentice? 

But your concerns dissipated when Hiromi’s thumb flicked at a nipple, his tongue simultaneously swiping at the roof of your mouth before coaxing your own tongue into further play.

“Oh, fuck …” You pressed into him, your groin knocking into the hard shell of his knee. 

With a soft grunt Hiromi withdrew, but barely, his lips teasingly close to your own. You could just lean forward and … “You’re right; we should be quick about this.” He increased the distance; you glanced at his tie, disheveled and barely hanging on to his collar. Did you do that? “Stand up …”

You did so. He followed you, towering over your frame as he maneuvered behind you, fingers grazing over the hem of your skirt.

“What are you …?”

He paused when you glanced behind you, the ghostly, seductive touch at your thighs disappearing. “I was …” Hiromi’s gaze angled downwards. “Unless you don’t want me to …”

Your attention flickered from Hiromi to the double doors that could open at any moment. Your doubts returned, but it was like a fork of lightning, a flash of a reason, felt and then gone. You tugged Hiromi by his wrangled tie and gave him another kiss. He groaned when you gave a challenging nibble on his bottom lip. 

“You —“ You stammered when you drew away, but not before leaving a parting kiss on his nose. “You should make it worth it, okay?”

Hiromi gave you a soft smile. “I intend to.”

And you turned back around to the feel of him pressing into you. You sighed, angling your ass against his hard dick, as Hiromi’s lips reconnected with your skin, this time loving your neck with heated kisses. He hiked your skirt up before weaving his hand to cup your cunt.

You moaned, your head falling back as Hiromi’s much bigger frame surrounded you. His index and forefinger teased your lips through the fabric, spurred on by your sighs.

“Such inappropriate choice of underwear …” Hiromi’s lips grazed your ear. He shifted the center of your panties away and began stroking your folds in slow circles. 

“Oh, fuck, Hi —“

“Almost like you planned all of this.” His voice was right in your ear, his fingers now cornering your clit and pressing into the tight nub. “Maybe it wasn’t an accident after all …”

“No …”

“Maybe flashing your tits is just how you get off —“

“No, I swear!” Your voice was impassioned as Hiromi abandoned the act of teasing your cunt to slide down your panties. Content with the garment hanging around your knees, he hiked your skirt higher. 

Despite being nearly fully clothed, his hands made you feel naked, and they were everywhere; kneading your thighs, your ass, swiping at your clit again before a hand finally settled at the small of your back to incline you forward. You placed hands on the bench to the suspicious sound of a buckle being undone, the descent of a zipper …

“Oh …”You hung your head when Hiromi’s cock slid past your slick folds and back again, rubbing your juices onto his shaft to both tease and test your wetness.

“You’re perfect, you know?” he murmured from behind. “You’re excruciatingly pretty…”

You closed your eyes against the warmth of his admission, your face redden at the praise. “I never knew you thought so …”

“Who couldn’t?”

The tightness in your chest, always present, lessened to know your crush had been reciprocated all this time.

“Aaah …!” Hiromi’s cockhead brushed against your clit, followed by a chuckle from him at your restless writhing. “Hiromi, fuck, please …”

“Hm?” Hiromi caressed the junction of your thigh and ass, petting the skin there. He was rocking into you now, brushing his cock through the tight space between your legs. 

“Please,” You begged. “Please, c — c’mon —“

Hiromi kissed into your rolling shoulder blades, deciding to leave a trail of them over the span of your upper back. “But this is inappropriate.”

“I don’t care!” You were shuddering now, rocking back as Hiromi rocked causally into you — but not into you. You truly didn’t care; if you didn’t have Hiromi’s cock soon you would surely go insane. Your writhing accomplished nothing worth mentioning. Growing madder by the second, you had half a mind to rub your clit if you didn’t also sense Hiromi would swat your hand away from your snatch. “I need you, just, please, fuck —“

Another kiss, this time at your neck. “Of course.”

The presence of his cock disappeared, and you were left to wrestle with the intimacy of that parting kiss before he buried himself inside of you seconds later. 

“Fuck …” Hiromi took hold of your hips, simultaneously keeping you steady as he saw fit to fill you to the brim with his impressive length. “You feel even better than I —“ 

You moaned as Hiromi buried his face in your neck, his nose smooshed against your pulse. His hand freed one of your tits to fondle. Another thrum of pleasure sang throughout you to know he’d thought of this before. One hand fixed still on your hips, he snapped his hips into you, skin rippling from the thrust. You yelped, bit your lip against the pleasure.

“Oh my god …” You squeezed your eyes shut against the assault of senses: Hiromi’s discipline failed him as his thrusts quickened. You were in love with the long drag of his cock. You seized the railing, needing something to squeeze as much to hold on to. Hiromi resumed making out with your neck while his other hand’s fingers busied themselves tormenting your pebbled nipple. “Fuckfuckfuck, Hiromi, please …!“

Hiromi’s moans mingled with yours. His hand had abandoned your tit and was traveling upwards, long fingers grazing your neck —

“Hiromi!” You clenched around him, sure he was set to choke you.

“Nrgh!” Hiromi’s fingers trembled against your lips instead. Both his hands were gone from your hips now — not like you needed his help fucking yourself back on him — with one’s new position shoving your panties down farther and fingering your clit. 

“God, it feels so good, so —“ You choked as the combination of his cock and fingers were becoming too much to bear. You sucked his fingers into your mouth, resisting the urge to bite down hard on the offered digits. Hiromi’s sounds of utter pleasure at your ear told you he wasn’t going to last, which only added to your pleasure, making you convulse around him a second time —

Hiromi breathed out your name in utter adoration. “Where do you want it?” he rasped, pistoning into you now. “Tell me where you want me to — aargh —“

“I — in —“ You lurched over the bench, losing yourself to him. His balls slapped against your clit, fulfilling the much needed friction when his fingers grew too lax. “Inside, yes, god, please —!”

Hiromi had enough clarity remaining to ask, voice breathy, “You sure?”

You had no choice; wherever Hiromi received his strength from it was enough to topple you over the edge. His hips swerved a particular way, and with it your mouth fell open, lost in the feel of his fingers circling your clit and his cock spearing you again and again. Hiromi’s groan roared loud in your ears, but you could make no sense of anything as you rode out your high.

“Fuck, I’m — fuck —“ You felt Hiromi’s cock inside you, and with a few more sloppy thrusts he was coming, muffling his cries in your neck. 

With effort, you fucked yourself back on him, brain full of cotton, until Hiromi had the sense to pull out of you, lest you drove him into another state of arousal. He braced himself on the bench beside you, catching his breath as you did. 

His gaze dropped to your mangled bra, still stuck on you. “It’s a very nice bra, you know.”

You shot him a sheepish smile. “You can have it. I’ve got ones I like a lot more.”

“If that’s true, I’d like to see them.”

You set to redress yourself, blushing under his appraisal. “Thanks for not laughing at me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. 

Once your skirt was set right, you unclasped your bra and offered it to him, your other arm dipping forward to retrieve his jacket.

Hiromi blinked, stunned by your sudden moxy. He held up the bra with two fingers, his face tinted pink. “I didn’t think you’d actually give it to me.”

You kissed him on the cheek. “Want the blouse, too?”

[phoward89]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3:

“You can't work here anymore, Y/N. You're fired.” You heard your boss, Doula Ada, tell you as soon as you said goodbye to Coryo (who was on morning patrol duty again) and entered the apothecary shop.

Your face fell. Fired?... “But why? I've been doing everything you've told me to.” You asked Doula Ada as she crushed up some herbs, to make a salve or remedy of some sort, with her mortar and pestle.

“With Belladonna's upcoming marriage to Juris, well, she needs to be working with me. I just don't have the room for two apprentices.”

“But I was the top of my class in the school and you said-” You began to protest, only for the older woman to shush you with a sharp-tongued, “I said I don't got no need for you anymore girl. Now go home or go find yourself a man to take care of ya.”

Taken aback by the herb woman’s brusque behavior, you quickly made your way to the door and exited the apothecary shop. Unknown to you, Coryo was waiting in the wind to swoop in and be your hero. To walk you home and be your shoulder to cry on.

Even though he's the reason you're fired and crying in the first place.

But to him that doesn't matter. It's just a small, minor detail that's not important. One that you'll never find out about, that's for sure.

Just as you were making your way down the cobblestone street, apothecary book tucked under you arm, a looming presence appeared by your side, towering over you. But by the long, lean shadow swallowing up yours, you knew it could only be Coryo. He is, after all, the tallest man you know.

“What's wrong, darling? Why're you leaving the apothecary shop after just arriving?” The platinum blonde peacekeeper asked.

Despite already knowing what was wrong, he wanted to seem like he was concerned about your plight. He was, after all, your man and a good man always takes time out of his busy schedule to check on his girl; to see what's wrong with her. He was just doing what any proper Capitol raised young gentleman would do, inquire about their special lady friend.

Looking up at your new friend, tears brimming your beautiful eyes, you told him, “Doula Ada fired me because she doesn't have room for both me and her daughter, Belladonna, to work at the shop.”

“Oh, my little dove, don't cry. It'll be alright.” Coryo assured you, as your tears began to fall, while pulling you into a hug.

And that embrace sure did make people stop and stare. The folks could understand a peacekeeper taking up with a merchant class girl while serving their 20 years in the district, but what they couldn't wrap their heads around was why a peacekeeper would lower themselves by getting involved with a Seam girl. People from the Seam were poor. So poor that they couldn't afford the second or in the word poor.

The Seam was considered the lowest of the low of District 12, the bottom of the barrel. So, a peacekeeper openly embracing a Seam girl and in the middle of the Merchant's Sector was considered taboo. A district blasphemy of sorts.

He kissed your forehead, causing the baker to nearly have a stroke from where she was peeking out of her shop window. And when he smiled wide and bright at you, the butcher nearly cut a finger off as he spied out his shop’s large front window.

“How ‘bout you help me with my patrol, darling? Walk with me for a bit, yeah?” Coryo suggested, craving a moment with you by his side. You're just so sweet, so kind, and he needs you- needs that around him. He wants to show you off to the entire district, let them see how he can cheer up his girl just by being by your side.

He truly was a bit off his rocker in love with you, but you had no clue about that. All you saw when you looked at him was the prettiest boy you've ever seen in your life, with a brilliant pearly white smile, who seems to go out of his way to befriend you. Something that you thought was sweet.

“I dunno, Coryo. I don't wanna get you in trouble.”

“You won't.” He quickly told you, wanting to chase away any fears you had of strolling around the Merchant Sector with him for a bit.

He really wanted to spend time with you, since he wouldn't be able to see you until he got a day off or his next weekend pass. Coriolanus felt that the more time he spent with you, the more in love the two of you would become. Yea…he was a bit of a clingy, stalkery, obsessive, possessive, delusional romantic. But at least he was a romantic, right?

Coriolanus hasn't seen you in 3 days, 3 damn days, and it's driving him crazy. The last time he saw you, you walked with him for a little bit while he was on patrol and it was heaven. You two talked and laughed about nothing and everything. But the best thing about that stroll was everyone in the Merchant's Sector saw the two of you together.

Something that made Coriolanus' possessive and obsessive tendencies towards you soar happily. He was proud to show you off as his girl; his future wife. He couldn't wait to dote on you; take care of you.

Coriolanus was raised that proper Capitol gentlemen take care of their women, support them and love them. That a good Capitol man spoils his girl; doesn't let her lift a finger. That a gentleman will keep his woman in the lap of luxury; will do all the work so that she doesn't have too. That all she does is have to worry about looking pretty, attending social events, and pleasing her man.

Of course, there's women in the Capitol that choose to have careers, but more women are socialites and housewives. And that's what Coriolanus plans to mold you into. His loving, kind, housewife; his little socialite that he'll spoil til the day he dies.

Only problem is that he's a peacekeeper grunt. His pay’s acceptable for a comfortable life in the backwater district of 12, but it's nothing to write home about. He knew that to properly take care of you; support you, that he needed to rise in the Peacekeeper ranks. That he needed to become an officer.

So, that's why he signed up to take the upcoming officers aptitude test. Coriolanus wanted to better himself not just for his need to get back to the Capitol, but also for his need to take care of you. He needed to be successful and have a good paycheck to take care of you the way you deserved. He wanted to spoil you, buy you your heart’s desires, and the only way to do that was with money.

Coriolanus was excited to tell you about his upcoming officers exam. He was hoping that the news would impress you; assure you that he's worthy of supporting you.

Talk about impressions, Coriolanus was currently buttoning up the jacket of his dress uniform as he stood in front of the small communal mirror in the barracks. Sejanus, his bunkmate and, for a lack of a better word, friend, just stared at him like he'd just lost his marbles.

Opening up his footlocker and grabbing a few bucks, Sejanus looked at Coryo, and asked, “Why're you wearing that for, Coryo? We're about to go off base with weekend passes, shouldn't you be in your fatigues?”

Coriolanus walked over to his bunk, only to grab his hat and pick up a small sack. “I'm wearing my dress uniform, Sejanus, because I'm spending the weekend with my girl and I want to make a good first impression on her family.”

“Uh…I don't think Lucy Gray and the Covey care about that.” The District 2 born peacekeeper told his friend, watching as the man slung his sack over his shoulder.

“That songbird 's not my girl. My girl's a sweet little dove.” The platinum blonde remarked while placing his dress hat on his head, completing the dashing look his dress uniform gave off.

“Oh…but I thought you liked Lucy Gray?” Sejanus pried, holding his weekend pass in his hand while crossing the room with his friend.

“But I love Y/N; I'm going to make her my darling wife.”

Sejanus forced a smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, as he patted Coryo on the shoulder. “That's good, Coryo.” In fact, the broad man didn't think it was good at all. He thought it was a bit concerning that his friend had waved off any and all feelings he had for a girl he risked everything to save, only to take up with an entirely different girl- declare intentions of love and marriage too.

Maybe Capitol born and bred people were just wired differently than different folks. Who knows. But Sejanus did know that all of his efforts looking for Lucy Gray were for nothing. At least he made some rebel contacts, some friends that supported a cause he believes in.

Bringing down Panem and the Games; having unity, justice, fair treatment, and human decency for all no matter if they're District or Capitol.

“I'd be honored to be your best man, when the time comes.” Sejanus told Coriolanus as they exited the barracks.

Like hell Coriolanus was going to have Sejanus stand up next to him as his first man. He didn't plan on having a lowly wedding in the districts, but a grand affair in the Capitol. His delusional Grandma’am would have a stroke if he had Sejanus Plinth as his best man. He supposed he can ask Festus Creed to be his best man, or maybe not even have one at all. Nothing says that he has to have one.

Coriolanus knows that you most likely won't have a maid of honor, unless he charms Clemmie into doing it. Eh, he'll worry about that whenever he's back in the Capitol, planning the wedding with you. At least he knows that Tigris will be more than happy to design your wedding dress.

But now's not the time to worry about that. First, he needs to meet your family and pass that officer's test.

The poor residents of the Seam were staring at Coriolanus with fearful and strange looks. It wasn't common to see a peacekeeper decked out in their dress uniform walking the streets of the Seam. No, the only time peacekeepers came to the Seam was to topple houses doing random checks to look for contraband and rebel literature, also to round up residents and cart them off to the prison on the base- never to be seen again until it was time to send them swinging on the hanging tree.

So…

Safe to say, residents of the Seam were both leery and mind blown at the sight of Coriolanus in their section, walking down the street as if he owned it. Both young and old alike silently prayed that the peacekeeper wouldn’t bother anyone.

If only they knew the real reason Coriolanus was in the Seam. Oh wait a minute, everybody in the Seam’s about to find out soon enough…

When Coriolanus reached your house, a large smile spread across his face. He couldn't wait to see you. He's gone too long without seeing your beautiful face, your kind smile.

Yea…

Three days is such an eternity…

Walking up the creaky wood rot porch and over to your front door, Coryo missed the neighbor girl, a songbird, exiting her house and seeing him. She saw his profile and instantly recognized him; was ready to call out to him, but stopped herself whenever you answered your door, causing the finely dressed peacekeeper to scoop you up into a hug and press a peck to your lips.

The little songbird shook her head, only to take off towards the meadow with her guitar in hand- she couldn't bear to watch the happy exchange between her neighbor and the Capitol boy turned peacekeeper- who she once thought was a good man.

Ashlie was making dough for a simple fry bread (all that your family could afford to make with the sorry excuse of grain that you're able to acquire) and you had just pulled a wildberry pie out of the oven, setting it on the windowsill to cool, whenever a loud knock sounded at the front door.

“Y/N, go get the door!” Your brother called out from his armchair, where he was already a jar and a half in of moonshine during his only day off.

You quickly went to the door and opened it, only to smile as you saw Coryo standing in front of you. He was dressed up in his formal uniform, sack slung over his shoulder and hand full of flowers (a small bouquet made up of a couple roses and some wildflowers native to District 12). Before you could even say hi or invite him in, Coryo pecked you on the lips (stunning you a bit) and wrapped you in a tight, but warm hug.

Resting his chin on top of your head, he confessed, “I missed you, my sweet darling girl.”

“You missed me? But it's only been 3 days since we saw each other.” You told him, finding it a bit odd that your new friend misses you so much after such a short period of time. Was that normal, or was that a Capitol thing? Or was it because he wanted more?

But you didn't want to give your hopes up. You just met; became friends the other day. Besides, a boy like Coryo Snow- pretty with his chiseled jaw, platinum blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes- always fancied themselves sweet on girls like Lucy Grey or Belladonna (the exotic Covey beauty and a flaxen haired merchant girl). Boys like him never gave girls like you, girls from the Seam, a second glance.

“Yea, 3 days too long.” He retorted, burying his nose into your hair to breathe in your scent. A scent that seemed to smell like fresh blooms and vanilla. Reluctantly pulling away from you, he offered you the small bouquet. “If we were in the Capitol, I would've made you a bouquet from the roses my Grandma’am grows in her rooftop garden.”

“These are nice, tho, Coryo.” You assured him with a kind smile while taking the offered flowers.

Coryo fell even more in love with you, watching you take the bouquet (which he felt was a pathetic thing compared to what he'd be able to give you in the Capitol) with a smile. His heart swelled as he watched you smell the flowers, your nose lingering at the couple of roses he demanded the florist stick into the bunch of wildflowers.

Yes, you'd flourish and grow in the Capitol. With his love and tender care, he'll turn you into a prized rose. His darling rose that everyone will envy, but only he has. A rose that he'll love; who'll love him in return.

Coryo knows that, sooner rather than later, he's going to gift you his mother's shawl and her compact. As a way to show his love and commitment to you. But also to mold you into what he knows you're meant to be.

His perfect, sweet, kind, darling rose. His wife who'll comfort him and love him during good times and bad. The mother of his children who'll sing to them and nurture them.

“I'm glad that you like them, darling, but you do deserve better flowers and, once I pass my officers exam, I'll be able to afford them for you.”

“You're taking an officer's exam? When, Coryo?”

“Next week.” Coriolanus proudly said, his baby blues shining with joy.

Before you could say another word or invite Coryo in, your older brother, Rein, appeared behind you with his half-empty jar of moonshine in his hand. Tipping his jar towards your ‘friend’ he asked in a deep grumble, “This officer bothering you, sis?”

“No, Rein.” You shook your head. Looking between your older brother and the blonde peacekeeper, you announced, “This is Coryo, a new friend of mine.”

Your brother's Seam grey eyes grew into the size of saucers. He looked between you, the flowers you were holding, Coryo, and the sack slung over his shoulder.

Coryo, wanting to make a good impression with his future brother-in-law, stuck his hand out for a handshake and politely said, “Sir, I'm Private Coriolanus Snow, of the esteemed Capitol Snow family. I'm scheduled to take the officer's aptitude test next week and, I assure you, my intentions with your sister are nothing, but honorable.”

Of course his intentions are honorable, the man wants to marry you. Take you back to the Capitol with him and fill you up with his babies. Oh, and not exactly in that order either. But, nevertheless, Coriolanus wants to make you Mrs. Snow; one day First Lady Snow.

Your brother looked at Coryo's large, calloused, outstretched hand and then turned his eyes up to his face. Rein had a mask of indifference painted on his dark, stubble coated face as he pointed his mason jar at Coryo and gruffly said, “Fuck you.”, before pivoting on his heel and storming back to his chair- all the while shouting, “My stupid fucking sister’s taking up with that dead General Crassus Snow’s fuckbag son, Ashie!”

You heard something break in the house and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Your sister-in-law (well, she was your brother's girlfriend, but same thing at this point since they've been together for so long) was so startled by your brother's outburst that she broke something the family can't afford to break. And your brother's reaction to your new friend was horrible.

The things he said…

Oh no, how embarrassing and cruel.

Frantically you apologized, afraid that Coryo would up and leave over your brother's nasty greeting, “Coryo, I'm so sorry for what Rein said. He shouldn't have said that, any of it.”

“Well, I admit, Y/N, that I was hoping to make a better impression on your brother, but I'm not going to let his little outburst chase me away from my darling girl.” Coriolanus told you, his attitude unwavering, as he placed his hands on your shoulders- gently rubbing them in a soothing manner.

Picking up on the phrase ‘my darling girl's, your brain suddenly put two and two together. Coryo wanted more than friendship, it seems. “Your girl, but I thought you just wanted to be friends?” You asked, just to make sure that your sudden revelation was right.

“I'm going to be a peacekeeper here for the next 20 years, Y/N. Of course, you're my girl. I don't want to be alone here, plus once I become an officer-” Coryo began to say, only for Ashlie to pop up and interrupt him with, “Um, can you two not discuss any future plans right now? Rein's upset enough as it is and, Y/N, I need you to help me with the dry bread.”

“Okay.” You sighed while at the same time Coriolanus said, “Like it or not, Ma’am, I'm not going anywhere. In fact, I'm staying here, in your home, with my darling rose for my weekend leave.”

“On the other hand, why don't you two talk a walk; go to the nearby meadow or something? Then you can meet up with me and Rein at the hob tonight.” Ashlie suggested, yanking the flowers out of your hand and ushering you out the door and slamming it shut behind you before either you or Coryo could say a word.

Well, looks like his plan to impress your family failed. But at least he impressed you, and really that's all the truly matters. As long as his lover's impressed then he couldn't give a flying fuck about the Halvir family. They could fuck off; go take a walk to the hanging tree for all he cared.

Coryo impressed you, made you smile with love and pride when you saw him in his uniform and, truly, that's the only thing that's important to him right now. That you view him as a hero.

Even tho in reality he's the anti-hero and your family knows it.

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