#I really like the apple on the cloak

[hildergard]

Could you do something where Aemond is already married/betrothed to a highborn lady that’s been approved by Alicent and Otto but he has a relationship with a low born woman (a brothel worker or any lowborn really) and once he becomes Prince Regent he starts bringing her around the castle, giving her a room to herself, treating her better than how a lowborn should be treated in Alicent and Ottos eyes and they don’t like it but Aemond doesn’t care.

MINE TO PROTECT ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn!Reader

TAGS | Suggestive content, swearing, possessive behaviour, classism

WORDCOUNT | 4k

NOTE | I have seen a lot of fanfictions where the Reader is a brothel worker so I made her a baker instead. I hope that's alright with you! Thank you so much for this great request! I had so much fun writing it <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

In the seedy streets of Flea Bottom, rumours travelled in a precise order, memorised by all.

A Lord, drunk with lust, would disclose the Crown’s secrets to a simpering whore, who would be quick⏤once the gold dragons were in her purse⏤to repeat what she had just heard, noble semen still running down her thighs. The other, much less wealthy, customers would then talk about it loudly in bars, attracting the attention of patrons who, once sober, had only to spread the news.

Today, the rumour burst into your little shop when Old Gerald came through the door, looking for his daily loaf of bread. 

 “Prince Aemond’s been made Regent," he said. 

For a second, you did not move. The dough fell on wood. Your floured hands remained stuck in the sticky, flabby mixture. It would have to be kneaded again. The sight of your dirty fingers woke you from your torpor. You gripped the towel from your apron and wiped your palms roughly before turning your back on your customer⏤less to get the fresh loaves of bread out of the oven than to regain your composure.

He had done it. 

Your shovel rasped against the burning slab of clay and peeled off the loaves. 

A few days earlier, when night had enveloped the citizens of King's Landing in its thick cloak, he had told you of his plans and dreams⏤the two were always intertwined, for Aemond Targaryen provoked fate rather than waited for it. His touch had done nothing to soften the brutality of his words. Sordid tales of fire and blood, the kind that filled the tomes of the Citadel. 

Even the Targaryens could not play with fire indefinitely. Aemond rose in the flames. For how much longer? You had protested, your voice hoarse from the moans he had managed to draw from your throat, but he would have none of it and simply told you to trust him, as if all this were far too complicated for you. 

And perhaps that was the case, for what did you know of war and power?

“What about his Majesty?" you asked.

Old Gerald tossed you three coppers, which you pocketed, before handing you a thick piece of cloth. 

“They say he perished in dragonfire. Seems Targaryens are closer to men, after all. With all this quarrel for t'throne, it were inevitable. And, let me tell you, it'll happen again. Today, a brother sits on t'throne. Tomorrow, it'll be an uncle or a sister. Things like that never end.”

You carefully wrapped the golden loaf in the cloth. 

“Wi' Rhaenyra in Dragonstone and his brother's heir dead, he’ll no doubt be crowned King. And the Lady Baratheon, Queen.”

You winced at the name but immediately hid your reaction with a tight smile. Gerald, bless him, took no notice of your torment. You handed the loaf of bread to the old cobbler, who nodded at you and returned to his shoes. 

The rumour ran on and kept you thinking all day. You burnt a dozen loaves of bread, spilt two sacks of flour and forgot to deliver her apple pies to Dorthy Porter, making you lose a silver stag and a customer.

When the key finally turned in the lock of the shop and cut you off from the rest of the world, your shoulders slumped. The sun and all its problems gave way to the moon. Under its silvery eyes, other rumours would no doubt spread but you did not wish to hear them. You longed for your straw mattress and the comfort of your dreams⏤perhaps your love would visit you there, also freed from the pressure the Gods were piling on his shoulders. 

Tiredness weakened your knees⏤you dragged your body more than you climbed the stairs to your modest bedroom. In the middle of the room, the bed and its pillow stretched out its arms to you. You let yourself fall into the feathery embrace and closed your eyes for a moment, praying to the Gods that you would find sleep easily. 

They ignored you. 

The doorbell rang. 

Your eyelids struggled to open. Sleep paralysed them⏤it clutched at your eyelashes and tried to keep them closed but you fought the temptation and, at last, gazed into the dim light of the room. Another series of blows, more hurried, struck against the wood. The whole  shop seemed to shake. 

“I’m coming, I'm coming…” you mumbled. 

You gasped as two members of the Kingsguard appeared on your doorstep, their cloaks far too white to be dragged through the muddy streets of Flea Bottom. 

“The Prince Regent, His Highness Aemond Targaryen, summons you.”

They did not care for your reply and seized you. You protested, demanded to be told the reason for this summon, but nothing would do. The guards dragged you like a rag doll through the streets of King's Landing, indifferent to your screams and struggle. Above and around you, the candlelight in the windows intensified. Some people poked their heads out to watch the racket. You lowered your chin and remained silent, but the damage had been done. 

Already, rumours were spreading. The baker had been arrested. What had she done? Who would make their bread from now on?  

The dizzy shadow of the Red Keep loomed larger and larger. Just the outline of it made your skin crawl. For the first time, you would be treading on the floor of Kings and Queens. You were being plunged headfirst into this unknown, powerful and dangerous place, populated by men and women who despised people like you. One of the guards tightened his grip around your arm. You yelped. Why were they taking you there? Aemond always came to you, not the other way round. 

Did someone know? You blanched. Impossible, you thought immediately. You had been cautious. 

But what if... What if someone had seen you, despite all your precautions? 

 Were they taking you to the Keep to put you to the sword?  

 A flash of fear stabbed you in the guts.  

You finally passed through the large gates of the castle. They were still open, yet, no one was in the courtyard. The swords were resting on the workbenches and the horses were asleep. Only a few guards patrolled the ramparts, their heads turned skywards in search of a dragon. 

“Hurry up, girl. The Prince is waiting.”

A solitary, proud figure emerged at the top of the stairs, in front of the entrance. His long white hair fluttered in the wind and the bluish moonlight accentuated his strict features and pale complexion. The mere sight of his face reassured you. You defied the guards and walked towards him. 

His rough hand⏤hardened by duty and war⏤gripped yours before thin lips kissed it. The Prince pulled you towards him. Your heart slowed as his familiar scent enveloped you and your shoulders relaxed. For a second, you surrendered to the comfort of his warmth and love. The smell of musk and leather soothed your body, but your head kept its wits about it.

“What's happening, Aemond?”

He closed his eye as his name fell from your lips and smiled. His hand came down and grasped your waist in a possessive embrace. You leaned into the touch. 

“There are rumours that Aegon–”

You squeaked. His fingers had dug painfully into your flesh at his brother's name. 

The mere mention of him brought back painful and humiliating memories, which your lover had confided to you, his head on your pillow. Even today, the wounds had not healed. They continued to transpire in every aspect of his life. You are the only thing he has not stolen from me, he had told you one night. Saying that name was like throwing his past back in his face and breaking your promise. He'll never succeed, you had replied, but today, Aegon was on your mind. What did his wound mean for the Crown, for you?

“Is it true?" you managed to articulate. 

“The Council has made me Regent," he nodded. “We will not need to hide any longer, my love.”

“What do you mean?”

But Aemond did not answer you. He smiled, tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and let his fingers brush your neck. With a nod, the kingsguards left. The clink of their armour echoed for long seconds, but the din faded with the tenderness of his gestures. His finger traced the veins in your chest. They led him to your breasts, hidden by your dress. Aemond grunted⏤terribly offended by this affront⏤and pulled at the fabric but it held on. 

Claere Linstar's work was reknown throughout Flea Bottom. You could not find a better weaver⏤today, you were thankful for the two silver stags you had spent. The garment would become the guarantor of your dignity, the bulwark against your desire. 

When you realised that your Prince was not going to answer your question, you took a step back. His hand fell limply between the two of you as a brief look of pain clouded his face. 

“Aemond?”

He straightened up and held out his hand to you. 

“Follow me.”

The labyrinthine corridors made your head spin. You lost count of the turns you took, the staircases you climbed and the alcoves you passed. The beauty of the mouldings and frescoes drew admiring sighs from you several times, but Aemond did not care. He walked past them without giving them a second glance. He's used to all this, you reminded yourself. People of his rank bathed in this luxury and grandeur since birth.  

On the way, maids dressed in red and white stopped at your sight. Their gaze fell on your face, on your body, on your hand locked in the Prince's... Your cheeks heated and you tried to pull away, but Aemond tightened his grip. Out of habit, his thumb caressed your skin. This time, his touch only made you tense. You bowed your head, ashamed. 

They knew. 

The thought stayed with you. 

You only lifted your head when Aemond stopped in front of an ornate door. The mouldings curved into flowers and birds⏤an ode to spring and renewal. Your eyes swept the decor, stopped on a bush of camellias and, finally, met the Prince's satisfied gaze. 

“We've arrived," he announced. 

Aemond opened the door with a confident gesture. Inside, an immense room stretched out and seemed to never end. Wealth oozed out of every corner, from the four-poster bed to the dressing table adorned with sapphires. On the wall, frescoes of flowers had been painted to match the powder pink drapes⏤an explosion of colour that turned drab the corridors you had been raving about just a few minutes before. 

“Is it to your taste?”

You turned back to Aemond. Although his chin was up and his back was straight⏤proud as ever⏤red bloomed on his cheeks. Your lover seemed embarrassed, a far cry from his usual composure. Almost timidly, his hand sought yours. He couldn't help it, you realised. His fingers always found yours⏤skin against skin to find what he had been deprived of all his childhood. 

“I don't know anyone who wouldn't like it," you replied.

“Hmm. Good.”

He pulled you to him. His hands went down to your buttocks and pressed you against his chest. Your pelvises collided. Suddenly, the room made sense. You let yourself drown in these familiar gestures. Your hand caressed his muscular shoulders, moved up to his jaw and brushed against his lips. Aemond kissed the pad of your thumb before replacing it with your lips. Soon, the wet sound of saliva echoed through the room. The sweet melody ignited a fire in your lower abdomen and moved down between your thighs. 

Your hand resumed tracing arabesques on your lover's smooth skin. It stopped at the buttons on his doublet and hastily undid them before wandering lower and lower…

Aemond stopped you before you could take him in your hand. His hand grabbed yours. He kissed your palm and pressed it against his cheek. 

“These will be your quarters.”

The fire went out, leaving you frozen with shock. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you mean?" you asked breathlessly.

“Now that I am Regent, we will not have to hide any more.” 

A new glare lit up his eye. Purple turned black and made you shiver. Flames seemed to dance in his pupil, crushing all remains of the second son he had once been. That Aemond was dead. In his place was a Regent who thought himself above laws and men.  

“It's not proper, Aemond," you tried to protest. “If it gets out that I'm here... If the Dowager Queen or the Hand–”

“They have no say in the matter. My word is law now.”

 “If you want me here… Perhaps I could serve the Crown, join the kitchens. Anything but that, Aemond," you said, gesturing to those quarters, far too luxurious for someone of your breeding. 

“You do not belong in the fucking kitchens," he scoffed. “No. You will be by my side, as my equal.”

“You're engaged," you retorted. “The Lady Baratheon won't take kindly to my presence here. You nobles can make Small Folk disappear in a blink of an eye and no one would notice or care.”

Alira Merchin's story was remembered as a cautionary tale for young girls naive enough to think love could conquer blood. The fable was classic⏤hundreds of similar romances filled libraries, and perhaps it was these very ones that had encouraged the girl to seduce the heir of House Harte. The man fell in love and made the pretty merchant his lover. 

This did not please his wife, the daughter of Lord Chelsted. 

She got rid of the merchant with disconcerting ease. The poor girl was found trampled by horses in white and green bards. That day, Lord Harte lost his true love and spent the rest of his life suffering the consequences of his betrayal. 

Your heart dropped. What would happen to you if you tickled the stag? Ours if the Fury. Their motto was an ode to their rage, to their thirst for violence. If Floris Baratheon found out that Prince Aemond was bedding you... and in the Keep nonetheless…

The storm would come for you and you would perish in its eye. 

“It's not a good idea, Aemond," you finally said. 

“Do not fret, my love. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here to protect you.”

The Prince pulled you into bed. 

Your protests died on your lips, muffled by moans and the exquisite feel of his skin against yours. 

Your fingers tightened around your thighs. The soap made your skin slippery but did nothing to wash away the shame that had been clinging to it for days. It colonised your flesh and left it tainted, eating away at your muscles and weighing down your heart. 

On the first day, after a passionate night, maids had arrived to prepare you, but you refused their care. You were no Lady. You had bathed alone all your life and would continue to do so. More than anything, you wanted to escape their watchful eyes, which would no doubt have noticed the hickeys on your chest and thighs. 

You did not know how rumours got around in the Keep, but you were sure that they first burgeoned on the maids’ lips. They blossomed as quickly as in Flea Bottom⏤the inquisitive nature of man was innate⏤, but it would not be Old Gerald getting wind of it. No. The stakes were much higher in these parts, and the consequences even more dire. 

The door to your quarters stood in the way of the horror surely awaiting you, but for how much longer? 

Your hands massaged your calf, hoping to rediscover a cherished routine. You longed for the feel of dough beneath your fingers. What would become of your shop? Would you have to sell it? Maybe someone had already moved in⏤abandoned houses never stayed so for long in Flea Bottom, the cradle of the poor and the homeless. 

You could not cherish the roof above your head, yet, you supposed you had to learn to appreciate it. Aemond did not seem eager to let you go.  

Aemond. 

Every day, the sun tore him away from you. His hours were devoted to the Small Council and military strategies, only half of which you understood when he explained them to you. Your Prince needed to talk, to get rid of the weight that was arching his back. You became the shoulder on which he rested, the ear into which he poured his doubts, the flesh in which he forgot himself. 

“I wish to be with you every hour of the day, to attach myself to your side, but the Gods will only grant me this pleasure when I win this war. I am fighting for you⏤for us,” he had told you. 

The moon brought him back into your arms. Every night, without exception, he would cross the threshold of the door and wrap you in a reassuring embrace. His arms would block out your gloomy thoughts and chase away shame and regret⏤all seemed worth it if it kept him close to you. The stars looked down on your love. When the bells rang the hour of the owl, you indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, whispered sweet nothings or simply enjoyed the peaceful silence that the other's presence guaranteed. Sometimes, Aemond, lying on the bed with your head on his stomach, would read you stories with his hand buried in your hair. 

And then, the hour of the Nightingale would sound, its tranquillity burning away in the first rays of sunlight. The enchanted interlude would close and you would spend the day dreaming of a life where sun and duty did not separate you. 

Shame would reappear, its weight with it, and fear⏤tangible and vibrant⏤would turn your stomach. 

The spectre of Floris Baratheon never left you. It haunted you. In the frescoes of camellias on the wall. In the bouquets of flowers dotting your quarters. In the venison served for dinner. The tales of her beauty reached you and left you bitter, but what they said about her quiet authority made your blood run cold. 

She would come for you. 

The Lady Baratheon occupied all your thoughts, so much so that you forgot about another much more dangerous threat. 

One day, Alicent Hightower stalked into your room. 

You dropped your embroidery in your lap and hastily sat up. The needle fell to the floor with a disturbing chime. The bell was tolling⏤this farce had gone on far too long and it would now end. 

The Dowager Queen dropped a small leather bag on the table. Its contents clinked and masked your gasping breath for a second. Your heart was pounding against your temples. Soon, the air would run out. Already your throat was closing up and you were struggling to swallow. 

“What is it?" you asked weakly. 

“Five thousand gold dragons. Enough to buy you a new life, far from the Keep, far from Westeros.”

Away from my son, she meant. 

“I won't leave Aemond.”

He needs me, you thought. 

“The Prince Regent does not need you," the Queen scoffed as if she could heard your mind. “He is engaged. Or have you forgotten that? Whoring yourself in the way you do… It would appear so. Have you thought about the repercussions of your actions when people find out about you? The risks it means for Aemond? Your very presence here jeopardises this entire war.”

“I have tried to–”

“He does not love you, you fool. He just wants a cunt to fuck without having to spend a single penny.”

You recoiled, surprised to hear the famously pious queen speak so vulgarly. 

War transformed souls. It made them ugly. Alicent Hightower’s wide eyes and pursed lips twisted her face into a terrifying expression. 

She sighed and, for a moment, her features became those of a compassionate woman. 

“I don't know what… hold my son has over you," she continued in a calmer voice, “but you seem smart enough to understand this will end badly. You must leave. Take the gold and let us be done with this farce.”

The door slammed against the wall before you could even consider the proposal. 

Aemond reached your side with a confident stride. 

“What's going on here? Mother?”

When the latter did not answer, he looked to you for answers. You lowered your head, unable to bear the look of concern in his purple eye any longer. 

It fell lower, onto the table and the leather purse.  

“What is the meaning of this?” he raised his voice. 

Silence stretched before Alicent Hightower relented. 

“You cannot… support a lowborn in such manners, Aemond. The girl must go.”

The Prince ignored his mother and took you in his arms. His nose nestled under your ear as his hands buried themselves in your hair. He guided your head into his neck and whispered comforting words, which you could not hear. You did not care. His familiar scent embraced you and brought tears to the corners of your eyes. They wet your cheeks and his collar. 

You should never have come here. 

“Out.”

His mother protested. 

“Imagine the shame for your future wife, the Lady Baratheon! For her house! If we lose Storm's End because of... because of this w–” 

“Hold your tongue and leave.”

“Aemond, if you do this, we are lost!”

“Get out!”

Footsteps retreated. A door slammed. Aemond sighed. His hand drew abstract symbols on the back of your head for a moment before encouraging you to look at him. 

“Oh, my love," he said, seeing your misty eyes. “All is well now. She will not hurt you any more.”

The danger you had put yourself in was greater than you had thought. Fear dried your mouth and exhausted your words. You stammered a few excuses before taking a deep breath. Your Prince's fingers did not weaken. They continued to comfort you and, at last, gave you the courage you needed to finally speak. 

“Maybe I should return to Flea Bottom. I–” 

“No," Aemond’s voice cracked. 

His hands framed your face and pulled you closer until your noses were touching. 

“You are not leaving me.”

His lips were harsh, covering every inch of your skin. He kissed the bridge of your nose, your warm cheekbones, your wet eyelids. Tears ran aground in the cracks of his lips and dried up under his exquisite tenderness. No beauty spot, no eyelash, was spared. His lips erased his mother's words and the doubts in your heart. 

“You belong here, with me. I do not care for blood or war. I only wish for your love.”

Aemond filled the space between your mouths. His hands reached down and grasped your breast. He feasted on your lips and the taste of them like a hungry man. Tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower abdomen. You rolled your hips, searching for his, but your lover pulled away.

You didn't want him to stop. 

The Prince shushed your complaints and pushed you to the bed. Your back bounced on the goose feather mattress. Eager to feel his skin against yours, you sat up and tried to pull him to you, but Aemond took a step back. A petty smile stretched his lips as he heard you whimper. He ignored you and stood silent, admiring you. His eyes, now black, gazed down at your body, contemplating its shape and softness.

“Aemond, please…”

Your lover grabbed an ankle and kissed it. You moaned. He moved up your calf, caressing your knee and digging his fingers into your thighs before spreading them apart. His teeth nipped at the flesh, which his tongue immediately soothed. Your breathing quickened and breathy moans fell from your swollen lips, intoxicated by his touch. He skipped over your dripping cunt, his hands grazing your hips and sides.  

Suddenly, Aemond stopped touching you, placed a farewell kiss on your belly and sat up on his elbows. 

“I will take care of everything, my love. You will never have to fear for your life. It is mine to cherish, mine to love, mine to protect," he said before reaching up to capture your lips with his. “Mine.”

“I love you," you sighed. 

Aemond smiled, as he did every time the words fell from your lips. One could not get used to the sweetness of love. It forever stirred the heart and soothed the soul. Your Prince placed a chaste kiss on your lips before moving down and disappearing between your thighs. 

His words vanished in desire and pleasure. You forgot them the next day, when the hour of the Nightingale struck.  

You should have known that Aemond Targaryen would keep his promise.

Three days later, the Lady Baratheon was found dead in the Kingswood, impaled on a stag's antlers. 

[thewritetofreespeech]

In the Dark

pairing: Aemond x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: one night, while coming back from the Street of Silk, Aemond runs into an all too familiar figure in the dark. request from @brideofcthulhu10

tags: married reader, targaryen incest, tw: knives, tw: mentions of potential SA

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

The Street of Silk was never quiet, but they were usually a bit more subdued this time of night. Aemond had planned for it this way.

Leaving the comfort of the palace to find comfort somewhere else, the prince always snuck out under the cover of darkness and returned just the same. No one the wiser. No one able to catch him and mock that he would be out here with whores instead of in bed with his wife. No one able to know what he was really doing here….

The prince adjusted his cloak to pull around him to make his way back to the secret tunnels of the castle. He rounded the corner and paused as he caught a glimpse of another figure in the streets. Not unusual, but not the usual sort either. Aemond’s good eye scanned the potential witness and noticed that their cloak was made of much finer material than any other in Flea Bottom. Too nice for peasants, though it clearly made efforts to seem plain.

Aemond growled through his teeth as he realized who it was. Even with the cloak, those whisps of silver hair that snuck out of the hood are a dead giveaway. Although Aemond had already memorized the gait. “What are you doing out here?” He hissed at his wife as he appeared behind her like a shadow.

You spun around fast. Wide eyed in startled fear, which quickly faded when you realized it was him. An odd feeling for Aemond, as it was usually the other way round when people realized it was him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“What are you doing out here?” He repeated, still hissing, but more from the whispering now. “What are you doing outside the castle, alone, at night, without an escort?!” His blood boiled with each new remark to his list. Aemond thought his wife clever for a time, but he would have to rethink that in this lunacy.

You glared at him. “I do not need an escort.” You insisted. “And what are you doing out here? Last you told me; you would be with Ser Cristion for the night.”

The apple of his throat bobbed, but Aemond refused to admit he gulped at the accusations of his wife. True, they were both at fault here. Sneaking out unbeknownst to their people and partner. The only difference was that Aemond’s transgression did not come with the inherited danger a young lady, alone, in the middle of the night had. Your life was not your own now, and Aemond was angry that you were being so careless with it.

“That is immaterial. You do need an escort. What if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

“I can handle myself, Aemond.” You continued to insist. Why did the Gods have to give him such an infuriating woman as a wife? “I’m not the soft petal that other women in the palace are. I’m a Targaryen.”

True, you were not as soft as the other ladies. Rhaenyra may bare bastards left & right, and Daemon may be an opportunistic lech, but they had done right by their daughter. Teaching you to not only be an adequate lady of court, but also a skilled rider, both of dragon & horse, and how to defend yourself. Targaryens were never short of enemies. It was best to be prepared. But their Targaryen jewel had not been trained in the same way Aemond had. More how to hold a knife and properly thrust when the moment came, but not actually overcome a group of attackers if swarmed.

“Targaryen’s bleed just as much as anyone, ābrazȳrys.” Aemond told her. Stepping close. You predictably take a step back away from his ire. “We are not immortal like our beasts. What would you have done if I had been another man? Two men? Twenty?”

Your back eventually hit a walk. Locked on with Aemond’s eye as you felt a swell of fear in your belly at his words. “I…I would run away.”

Aemond cruelly laughed at your answer. “You would outrun twenty men? You’re fast, byka ābrazȳrys,” he remembers the races they had when they were children, before he sprouted to his current height, “but not fast enough to outrun twenty.” He then used that impressive height of his to quell around you. His arm coming up to place his hand against the wall. Blocking one exit. “What would you do if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

There was a tense moment between you. You felt trapped. You have to force your body to stay still and not tremble. “Stop it Aemond.” You hiss as you try to push him away. He’d made his point. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But you would never admit it.

“Who's Aemond?" Your eyes flickered up to him as Aemond’s voice sounded different. Void of the subtle hints of affection he had for you, and stone cold. A blade was suddenly out from by his pocket and by your throat. “I'm just a faceless, masked man in the dark.”

Your back went straight against the wall as you tried to create as much space as possible between you, Aemond, and the knife. “S-Stop it…”

“Make me.” Was his reply. “You’re a strong, capable Targareyn, aren’t you? Make me stop.”

You realize you can’t. You’re too afraid. This was indeed Aemond, your husband who loved you, but your mind kept thinking on what if this wasn’t Aemond. What if this had been a strange man in the dark? What is this wasn’t a test but truly real? An enemy of your mother? An enemy of Aemond? Or just a man like so many in the city who pulled women into dark alleys and forced them to their needs? What if this had been real?

Aemond saw the fear welling up inside you as tears came to your eyes in panic. He put the knife away and leaned in to give you a kiss. His build softening around you as the point had been made and the ‘game’ was over. You cling to Aemond in relief. Like a life raft out to sea. Overcome with emotions you kiss your husband desperately in a manner unbecoming of commoners in an alley, much less royalty.

Aemond kissed you back with equal fervor. Never missing an opportunity to kiss you. Relief also washed over him as well, thinking on the what-ifs if he had not run into you and another man did. What could have happened to you. The prince growled possessively at the thought and ran his hands over your body to claim it from these imaginary brigands. You moaned against his lips. Breasts heaving as you pant against him while his knee slid up between your legs as he bucked against you. “Let us go home issa jorrāelagon.”

You nodded fervently. You just wanted to go home now. Be with your husband. Be in the palace walls. Be safe.

The prince released you and the two of you walked back through the cobblestone streets for the tunnels. “Why are you out here anyway, issa jorrāelagon?” He realized you had never answered him.

“Father told me once of a spot past the Iron Gate that, if you look out at it at sunrise, you can see Valyria.” Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye. What a ridiculous story. Valryia was leagues away. He’d barely come close to it on Vhagar; though in truth he would never fly near the place after what happened to Princess Aerea. “I know it’s silly, but I wanted to see it.”

“Why now?” He asked. You had lived in King’s Landing on & off for most of your life. Had you wish to see ‘The Valyrian Sun’ (yes, he knew what she was talking about) you could have done so at any time before. Why now, alone, when such danger was about for them?

“In times of trouble, I look to the Old Gods more, like your mother looks to the Seven.” Daemon’s influence, no doubt. Or perhaps it was just her own. Aemond parroted the phrases and did the prayers when asked by his mother, but he would not truly say he was bound to one set or the other. “I thought it might bring me some clarity on things. Some answers.”

“Answers on what?” You don’t answer, which made Aemond suspicious, but he doesn’t pry further. “Why didn’t you just ask me to come with you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t go if I told you it was something my father taught me.”

He frowned. Did you really think him that petty of the man that he wouldn’t go just because Daemon Targaryen taught of it first. “Come. This way.”

You do not have time to react as Aemond took your hand and pulled you down a different alley. “Where are we going?”

“The proper way.” He told you. “You were headed for the Dragon’s Gate. Yet another reason why you need an escort.” You frown at Aemond’s slight but follow after him.

The two of you meet the ‘Valyrian Sun’ together. There is no cast of Old Valyrian in the sun beams, nor any of the answers you seek. But when you turn to look at Aemond amongst the sunrise, you feel some kind of peace. Some kind of answers. “Let’s go home.”

[thewandererh]

what if why we didn’t see the doctor’s primary black-cloaked vessel ingame is because it’s his last resort? what if it’s where his heart is stored? or even where all the last copies of all his vital organs are kept safe?

an active consciousness can still stem from a backup of his brain, which his primary vessel holds. so, after his physical brain goes belly up (literally😭) the network of transmitting consciousness to each of his bots is still active. just transferred to a weaker method.

following the “murder” of dr harley sawyer in chapter 4, perhaps he scrambles back to this old vessel whereever it is. maybe it’s been neglected, a plan B dangerously collecting dust, or it’s sitting pristine in a sterile room on life support. nevertheless, harley finds himself in it after croaking his “last words” mid-transfer, and struggles to breathe. he forgot about this vessel. he’d cast it aside because it held the scars of his initial transfer into machine and the containment that followed. it was his first body. and it was so weak. but now it is his last chance.

however, he’s not properly adjusted to the whole having organs thing, and this vessel needs to be properly taken care of. so with bated breath and the struggle of calming his mind, he summons one of his metal corpses from his brain’s tomb. it takes a few agonizing minutes as it arrives to wherever he is, but eventually it’s close enough that he can actively switch bodies with it. consciousness transferral relies on proximity (this is why we only see the bots around his brain ingame).

revived and disoriented, the doctor must now look after himself. the fact of being reduced to this husk eats away at every atom of his being, but he’s simply too weak. he failed. he failed and he’ll be killed for it. but he’s not afraid.

when the splitting headaches cease and he gets used to being alive he can kill something again.

soon, but not yet.

4/19/25 edit : THIS AU NOW HAS A SIDEBLOG! https://www.tumblr.com/screws-of-sawyer headcanons, fics, art!!

…

…

info ramble & sillies under cut!

au idea, ayo?? early titles are ‘mechanized-mind’ or ‘inside-the-mind-of-harley’ or even ‘dry-bones’ but i’m still brainstorming X]. i love putting my characters through emotional agony <33 but this time it’s an au of an existing character i have to analyze to get right so that’ll be fun. now for the drawing, i really like both medical concepts and making stuff up so maybe only some of the function would actually work, but i do not care. the idea was that harley’s primary vessel had a more meshy, detachable plate in his chest to give room for his heart and probably-disproportionately-sized lungs. here that plate is removed in order to help his heart beat. tons of other tubes are wired into his ventilation vents to keep him running to. my running idea for why the sarley hawyer (clone bot, aka secondary vessel) here doesn’t have a cloak is because maybe he had to take it off due to contamination. or it got snagged on the way here. but honestly i didn’t want to cover up the cool anatomy of my neat design i’ve been playing with, so he is naked once again 😔

this was the big flipaclip harley piece i mentioned in this post while trying to animate something. this idea arose instead, and slowly came to fruition as i found an elaborate way to color while listening to some lethal company and ppt 3 & 4 vids. pen pressure is really new to me and i’m on my knees thanking it for this neat coloring texture and technique i will probably never use again 🛐😌🫶 thank you apple pencil ilysm

anyways, here’s some funny wip shots, and general doctor sillies i found today!! ^_^ it’s been another doctor day

once again, astralspiff is a very cool guy guys 🗣️🔥🔥

but alas. adios amigos 😵‍💫🫡 goedenacht!

[lavenderfursworld]

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS

the moment i saw this post i knew i had to make it reality. my demonology nerd ass just had to do them so i speedran it today. design notes below the cut :> the close ups arent good quality because theyre just screenshots but deal with it

GRIAN - PRIDE

I wanted to use a mix of reds and purples, playing off his colour scheme ft. the watchers

Lucifer represents Pride, so I gave him a big ol snake, apples and a generally royal look

His halo is supposed to also represent the sun

I wanted to make him look the most powerful - he is presented deity-like normally, so I just doubled it and ran with it. And also again Luci links.

I FUCKING LOVE HIS FACE the shadow is Always There :>

he does have little starry dots in his cloak ! i wanted to do bigger ones but i got distracted

the grey heart reflects the one he gave to scar in 3l

CLEO - WRATH

The jester hat is because of her win in Real Life

She has horns and bigger ears, but they aint particularly visible here >.>

I probably struggled with her the most since I've never drawn her b4!! but it was fun!! pls if anyone has better ideas for her i beg please

SCAR - GREED

I had SO MUCH fun with him no joke iuwrhfi

His chains represent the obligations of greed - how it ties you down, similar to that one guy in the christmas carol

His wings and tail vaguely resemble my vex design for him. they're green now.

I mixed together the sunflowers and poppies on his outfit because I thought he'd do that

He has two crowns because they declared 3rd life a double win, and because it connects to Greed :>

JOEL - LUST

i had loads of fun with joel too ngl, even if there aren't as many details!!

his version of the crown is a lil love heart :>

his horns have lil flamey tips

SCOTT - SLOTH

i had fun with him too!!

blu.

he has eyes and they are shut! eepy boy

i wanted to use a mix of sharp and soft angles, as I was leaning into the sloth part (chilled, relaxed) in this specific full

his 'wings' are lil star things too!

his cloak also has the same starry thing as grian, and is small for the same reasons

only one crown, as he declared DL a win for pearl (not for himself)

PEARL - ENVY

green eyes - "green eyed monster" thank you shakespeare

holding an apple, symbolising her envy (temptation)

also has a cross over her heart, and she grasps towards it, similarly representing her envy and the whole divorce thing that happened in DL

a wolf!! with many tails!! because double life!!

the eyes representing her wl skin wasn't intentional but it did work out like that lmao

anyway uh i really hope this doesnt flop

you can use the designs if you wanna! tag with #life series deadly sins thankee

extra sketches;

[teddybeartoji]

heavily based on the puss in boots movie but sukuna x death!reader..

a bounty hunter, who has set their eyes on the infamous sukuna,, known for his bloody blade and his feracious smile, he doesn't even bat an eye when you show him the wanted poster. he makes a joke about it, he laughs in your face.

but he does enjoy the fight and he is amused by this ridiculous act of yours, so he decides to draw his sword just to humor himself on this late night.

"try me if you dare, you wouldn't be the first to— "

like a gust of wind, like a slap in the face – you swat the blade from his hand without even looking at him properly and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

the steel clatters against the cold floor, it glimmers under the dim lights of the tavern. sukuna doesn't get scared. he doesn't.

the corners of your lips quirk up and the room goes cold. a mean laugh ripples from your throat and his stomach churns.

"go on, pick it up."

he swallows the lump in his throat.

the few steps count as a walk of shame inside his head. he won't let you get away with toying with him like this. adrenaline pumps in his veins as he bends to pick up his weapon and the moment his calloused fingers wrap around the handle, he's swinging it at your back with a low growl.

the sound two swords make when they clash against one another is nothing new to sukuna, so it really shouldn't be as big of a surprise when you deflect his blow.

when you deflect it with ease, with a smirk on your face.

sukuna's eye twitches.

a second swing and then a third. you're unfazed.

"sloppy."

he clicks his tongue and forces down the raw anger bubbling up his gullet.

a fourth and a fifth. a sixth. sparks from the blades glimmer in your dark eyes as you blatantly laugh in his face, seemingly so far from his reach that sukuna trips over his own thoughts – he reacts half a second too late and pays the price for it immediately; the cold steel rests against his adam's apple, your breath fanning his face as you tug him closer by the collar of his shirt. stuck between the counter and the end, he glares at you. he snarls, he bares his teeth.

a drop of crimson runs down the side of his neck as you brush your cold nose against his cheek. too close, you're too fucking close. the quiet, honeyed hum you give him gnaws on his insides, it tears into them like a hungry dog. your lips ghost over his pulse point and he feels you smile.

you inhale and a shiver runs up his spine.

"this is always the best part... when the fear finally starts to bleed, when you can taste it. smell it." his free hand curls into the material of your cloak but he's unable to do anything. he can't push and he can't pull, a deer stuck in a trap.

you slot a thigh between his thighs and press your blade deeper into him. "isn't it exciting to be so close to me, hm?"

warm blood trickles over your fingers. the tall man before you shrinks under your presence, under the weight of your makeshift scythe. he holds onto you like his life depends on it and withers at your next words.

"i'll take good care of you, i promise."

[moonstruckme]

CONGRATS! could i do apple pie, with the prompt “daisies growing from between pavement slabs” with steve? :)

Of course you can lovely <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 471 words

You trace the outline of some child’s chalk drawing with your finger, making the tip turn a light blue. You and Steve always end up here, sitting on the curb outside of one of your homes. Neither of you want to go home, but you also don’t want to go inside and have to face parents or roommates or whoever else might be there. 

“I don’t know,” Steve is saying. “Wasn’t the wolf kind of shitty, though? I don’t remember them being in love.” 

“That’s a good point,” you concede. You’d suggested that you two be red riding hood and the big bad wolf for Halloween, but truthfully you only wanted to wear a red cloak. “What about beauty and the beast?” 

“Okay.” Your boyfriend lets his head loll sideways, giving you a look. “Now it seems like you just want me to have to put on a bunch of fake wolfy hair.” 

You shrug, grinning down at the pavement. “It wouldn’t all be fake. You’ve got a solid start with your chest already.” 

“Hey.” Steve works an arm around your neck, pulling you closer. “That is just for you, okay? I don’t need you showing me off all around town; I’m more than just your arm candy.” 

“That’s another idea,” you say, laughing when he mushes his nose against the side of your face. “I could dress up as a businessman, and you could be my trophy wife.” 

Steve’s amused exhale skitters down your neck. You shiver. 

“What about,” he says after a minute, “the princess and that rebel guy? From the Breakfast Club.” 

You frown. “Were they really in love either?” 

“I think by the end they were supposed to be.” 

“I don’t know, it seemed weird to me.” 

Steve clicks his tongue. He’s pulling up daisies from the cracks in the pavement absentmindedly, but suddenly his eyes seem to focus in on them. 

“What about John Lennon and Yoko Ono? You could wear flowers in your hair.” 

“Did Yoko Ono wear flowers in her hair?” you question. Steve shrugs like he’s not sure and he doesn’t care, lifting a daisy to push it in above your ear. “Also, I’m not sure wearing white to Halloween parties is a good idea. It’s like begging to get something spilled on you.” 

“But you look so pretty with flowers in your hair,” he coaxes, and his voice is teasing but his brown eyes are warm and sincere. “I think we should do it.” 

You hum, leaning closer to kiss him. His hand slips down your hair to cup the side of your neck. “You just want to be done deciding,” you say. 

“Yeah, well, sue me. But you do look pretty like this. You’ll look pretty in anything.” 

“Keep sweet-talking me like that, Harrington, and you might just get your way.” 

[stellas-and-tonitruses]

⚠ SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 93 AHEAD! ⚠

now that we have finally met demetrius, it seems like a great time to dissect his first scene and proper conversation! :]

his wide, unfocused stare hides ✨unexpected complexity✨, as expected of a desmond

he's impatient (common desmond trait at this point)

he's nonchalantly exceptional, as we expected and have been repeatedly told thus far

...but most importantly, amidst a sea of accomplishments, he is burdened with a lack of people skills and visibly frustrated by it, as evidenced by his conversation with damian in this chapter.

the analysis and speculation continues under the cut!!

so, a breakdown of the main meat of his introduction

similarly to every single time there's an interaction between damian and another desmond, damian is the one who reaches out first by calling out to demetrius, who immediately asks him what he wants. damian tries to begin with small talk, congratulating him on his accomplishments of the day

demetrius is brief and to the point, but it doesn't feel to me like he is annoyed here. perhaps curious, perhaps indifferent, we don't know -- demetrius is a boy of few explanatory thoughts, after all

merely in the next page, demetrius is revealed to have a blank mind for most of this conversation.

i don't believe this is a sign that demetrius was experimented on or anything. obviously, this does not rule out that he has been experimented on, but i don't think his lack of thoughts are indicative of that, nor do i believe anya was too far away (in previous chapters, she has read the thoughts of people at greater distances than this with ease!). i think this has something to do with his upbringing, but also very importantly his state of mind at the moment

his eyes are wide open, but his stare is unfocused. i think this is an intentional choice to hammer in that he's not really here at this moment, listening to what is undoubtedly to him pointless praise. he has likely tuned all of it out completely.

(as a side note, if we wanna involve anya in this situation more, we could assume that he is intentionally cloaking his thoughts from anya or any other potential mind-readers, but while i do think donovan is very likely involved in project apple, i severely doubt the financial benefactors of project apple would spend likely a lot of money to figure out a way to shield the thoughts of a middle schooler, regardless of who his dad is, from potential telepaths. as far as we know, anya is the only one with this specific power and demetrius is unlikely to have any information that would incriminate the operation. if that was an issue, i don't see why they wouldn't spend their money to protect melinda's mind, since she likely has way more info than demetrius ever could.)

moving on from that side note though,

we do not see demetrius' face as he says this! this is important to me

we are left unaware to whether or not he is disappointed or just trying to abscond to take a nap (he really needs one)

but then, he says this:

this, to me, is a direct attempt at connecting!! he's trying to reciprocate the small talk, the praise, trying to continue the conversation. his thought, "i don't understand him," may feel contradictory but to me, it only underlines his frustration about this, because he knows what damian is going to say next:

even though it was expected, this is not what demetrius was hoping to get out of this. his downturned eyebrows give a feeling of discontent. he is not blank, he is visibly frustrated, visibly annoyed.

and we are thus made aware of a boundary demetrius and melinda both share:

never mention donovan.

for one reason or another, this is the boundary damian has overstepped with both his mother AND his brother now, without ever being informed that it IS a boundary in the first place

so demetrius, upset, turns around to leave and throws this at damian:

this is important, because damian has shared a very similar sentiment to anya before, albeit in a mournful tone.

demetrius likely feels similarly neglected by his parents, but is long past feeling sad about it. he has moved straight to anger, understandably!

but the bigger reason for his frustration, imo, relates to a problem damian once again ALSO has: people treating them as a gateway to their father and nothing more.

demetrius has more than likely also been treated like this, and probably still is unless his peers have learned not to engage because of his brief, snippy responses, so he is familiar with the feeling of being used.

...and damian unknowingly treated him the exact same way, even though he's also grown to hate it.

of course, he's 6 years old and he meant no harm by this -- he's just a lonely boy trying to be noticed by his neglectful parents, after all, what else could he possibly do?

but for demetrius, this is the end of the conversation. he is not his father's manager, he's not even that close to him, so why does his brother only ever talk to him when it relates to their father?

as he said before: he doesn't understand him, and why he keeps doing this. does he not know there is little info to be gained?

he doesn't understand their father either, with his impossibly high expectations, never pleased, never happy, never available

and lastly, as ewen and emile try to introduce themselves

demetrius has one final thought.

and he casts aside this entire conversation, leaving the scene as empty as he entered it.

of course, the chapter doesn't end here, but this is where demetrius' involvement in it does, leaving us with a newfound understanding that while to damian, demetrius represents everything he can only strive to become... to demetrius? his accomplishments ring hollow in the face of everything he wishes he could understand.

we do get an extra flashback that hearkens back to a better yesterday, but while donovan is lacking some very important details (those scars, that dead disinterest that follows his every move -- he seems mirthful somehow here), we don't know if this scene represents a time when they were closer or if it's simply evidence that as far back as everyone can remember, demetrius has been doing nothing but studying all the time

could this be evidence of something nefarious relating to project apple? eh, not particularly, not to me. the boy's just studying hard, any relation to project apple would have to be more recent in the timeline imo

TL;DR:

demetrius has been built up throughout the past 92 chapters as a figure larger-than-life, and this has been thanks to most of our knowledge of him being directly affected by damian's perception of him, as the younger brother living under his shadow

however, he has now been humanized by his flaws: a short temper and a lack of social skills that comes paired with a clear want to connect, to understand, to converse. he seems to be a very lonely kid, everyone around him either jealous, putting him on a pedestal or actively seeking to use him under the false impression that he has important connections, and although he doesn't mean to, damian has unknowingly been treating demetrius in the same way, only seeking him out when he wants to know something about donovan.

interestingly, him and melinda share the same trigger, that being donovan himself, though we do not yet know if their reason for this is also shared.

CLOSING THOUGHTSSS

it has been so exciting finally meeting this little goober-- i thought i might never see the day 😭😭😭

thank you to whoever read this far, i literally made this blog just now so! HOPE I DID WELL!

💖

[crayon-rants]

I AM HERE TO RANT.

So I’ve had this fic idea. Pureshadow cause why not? I just need to know if people would read it. And the soul aching thing is similar to Jambound ig, don’t really know.

The idea is basically:

The storyline goes as normal like in the actual game, BUT after PV awakens guilt tears at his soul.

The distress and panic on SMILK breaks him. Both their soul jams, pulsing in agony and betrayal and fear. And Candy Apple and Black Sapphire are distracting Strawberry, Wizard and Gingerbrave.

PV misses the feeling of their soul jams connected, he missed feeling so complete. He wasn’t in the right mind…right? He wants SMILK he needs him. He felt so broken and lost without him, is this how SMILK felt all these years?

Now, SMILK is still on the ground, almost breaking into tears. The eyes in his hair, distressed and erratic as he spouted on half-assed insults.

PVs’ soul aches, he’s suffocating. SMILK must be in agony. The feeling he craved for so long, torn away from him…

PV felt terrible. He didn’t want this. He wanted SMILK happy. He wanted to make him happy. He missed the feeling of their soul jams connected.

Would SMILK let him do it again…? No…PV betrayed him. SMILK gave him his trust and PV shoved it back into his face. Not a care for his feelings.

PVs’ eyes flashed a faded blue and yellow, his expression changing as the bottom of his cloak turned a dark blue. He shook his head. He had to relax. What was happening? Truthless Recluse wasn’t permanent right?

PVs’ soul jam draws him to his knees next to an erratic and broken SMILK. He begs for another chance, while SMILK stares at him in shock and disgust. How could he trust hm again?

Man that’s all I’ve got now😭. It’s a work in progress. Let me know if it!S good and if i should change anything.

[yerimacoustic]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 🤍 𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

summary: after attempting to steal from the wrong man, you and joshua are forced to mend your own mistake and find out more about each other on the way.

content warnings: royalty au, fantasy au, joshua x female reader, inspired by tangled, obviously, lost prince!joshua and thief!reader, lots and lots of angst, swearing, kissing eventually, more tags to come!

a/n: this is a TEASER for an upcoming joshua fic that i pinky promise i will actually finish and upload. this is also dedicated to my favorite moot @02shuuu who gave me the idea and is so encouraging thank youuuu🫶🏻

“look.. you’ve got great aim, i’ll give you that. but was throwing that apple really necessary?” you grimaced while your fingers graced over the large bruise forming on your temple.

“you’re lucky i didn’t throw anything else. or call the royal guards, for that matter,” joshua countered, ignoring the guilt that crept through him upon seeing the darkened spot adorning your skin.

you scoffed, unamused, “i’m sure they’ve got bigger issues to worry about than some petty theft. like that missing prince.”

“..what?” joshua raised an eyebrow.

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. apparently the age old tale of the prince’s disappearance wasn’t common knowledge.. “you mean you don’t-“ you paused, snickering. “have you been living under a rock?”

joshua bowed his head at your words, staring at the dark blue vial in his hand. the stopper was nowhere to be found, the bottle completely empty. a trail of darkened, almost burnt grass beneath his feet signaled where the liquid had spilled in your scuffle.

“well..” you sighed loudly and slapped your knees while rising to your feet. “this has been lovely. one of my most.. notable first meetings. but i really must be going.”

“not so fast,” joshua protested in a gentle tone, keeping an iron grip on your dark cloak. you were rendered motionless. “you’re going to help me fix this.”

“um..” you let your voice trail off, eyes briefly flicking to the dark sky above you as if to feign contemplation. “no can do. i’ve gotta find another way to settle some debts i have, i’ll spare you the details.”

you took another step, only to be halted once again by joshua’s firm grip on your cape. “lemme ask you something: do you have any idea who you just tried to steal from??”

“no, and i don’t really care,” you stated pointedly.

joshua furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback. “regardless.. the potion’s ruined now because of you. someone worked really really hard, traveling night and day across kingdoms, spending night after night with their shoulders hunched over the cauldron to perfectly craft this particular potion. and now it’s wasted. and because of you! do you really want that on your conscience?”

you furrowed your eyebrows, once again unamused by his words. “since you asked.. i’m actually more worried about what’s going to happen to me now that my uh.. client won’t get what they want. so.. no, can’t say i am.”

joshua sighed, clearly exasperated. he rose to his feet, the worn fabric of your cloak still bunched around his fingers and effectively keeping you from moving. “look, we’ve got.. three days to get all of the ingredients back and remake the potion. if you help me, i’ll make sure there’s enough for both of us.”

“and why would i do that? how am i supposed to trust you?” you countered, folding your arms.

“because i know you’re desperate,” joshua told you with a smirk. “and frankly i am too. and i’m not really taking no for an answer.”

you were taken aback by his words and more accurately, the way he still managed to speak with such a charming tone. “and how are you supposed to trust me?”

“well.. i guess all i can do is just hope you won’t let me down.” he paused, letting go of your cloak in favor of grabbing onto your horse’s reins. a shit eating grin tugged at his lips as he looked over his shoulder to see you.. absolutely flabbergasted. he pats the saddle, nodding his head. “ladies first.”

[daisy-01-blog]

Apples (Gojo and Geto x fem! reader) Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here

I think the apple's rotten right to the core!

MINORS DNI!

Context: Part 2, smutty-PWP. Degradation, and threesome. Double penetration.

No one knows how it came to this (or maybe they have expected it). 

You mewl as you’re sucking Geto and Gojo’s cocks at the same time, shuddering at the squelching noises as you slurp and gag on their cocks.

Geto and Gojo grunt as they move their hips—their pants all down. You guys are on top of a building roof, and they didn’t seem to care. 

“Awww,” Gojo pants, “You fuck,” he moans. “Is this why you’re here, huh? to kill us with your pussy?” He mocks you as if he isn’t rolling his eyes from the sensation of your mouth on his cock. 

Geto chuckles as he bullies his cock into your mouth. “Fuck…is this what you do as a villain, huh? just let any hero do whatever they want-” he grunts “to you?” 

You mewl, on your knees as they stuff your mouth with their huge veiny cocks. Their precum is leaking inside your mouth. You whine as you feel your pussy leaking juices from their rough treatment. 

The wet squelching noises mock you as they grunt and move their hips roughly—your eyes are teary from sucking those two huge cocks. 

“It’s coming.” Gojo grunts as Geto moans, their cocks spewing cum. They didn’t move their cocks from your mouth.

“Swallow it all.” Gojo grins sadistically. “Be a good girl for us.” Geto purrs, “You can do that, can’t you?” He chuckles. You whine as you swallow, feeling dizzy.

They waste no time taking off your all-black cloak, showing your blouse and pants.

“Must be hot wearing all these attires, hmm?” Gojo purrs, and Geto grins, “Let’s take it off.” 

As they take off your blouse, they unclasp your bra, both sucking your huge breasts. You jolt at the feelings of their lips and tongue on you. 

“Fuck, I missed your breasts.” Gojo whines as he slurps your chest like it’ll make milk anytime soon.

Geto chuckles, “Missed all of you, baby,” he coos as he slurps your breasts. Their fingers went inside your pussy as you gasped. They laughed. 

“Still so tight.” Gojo purrs, “No one made you feel like us, hmmm?” He chuckles, “You must be sexually deprived.”

You can’t think, your pussy squelching wet as they toy with your clit and pussy. You shudder as it gushes down their fingers. They chuckle wickedly. 

“Listen to that noise,” Gojo whispers. “Such a fucking slut, your pussy is weeping, baby.” 

You moan as the slick noises could be heard.

They finger you faster, making you shake your hips unconsciously.

They chuckle, “Awww, you want to cum?” Gojo coos, “Not now, baby.” Geto coos as they stop. You whine needily, “Why did you guys stop?” You mewl; they grin at that. 

“Not yet.” 

You whine as they finger you again but stop when you’re close.

“Please,” you mewl, “don’t stop,” you beg needily.

They grin, “If you say so.” They went down on your pussy as you jolted and whined, “Mmh!” You shudder as you feel them slurping your pussy. 

“So wet…” Gojo shudders as his tongue laps your pussy as Geto slurps your pussy. You shuddered as you came in no time.

They grinned, “Ready for getting double stuffed?” Gojo rubs his needy cock. 

“Did you guys—” you pant, soaked—still spreading your legs—“bring any condoms?” 

Gojo and Geto stare at each other as they laugh. 

“No” 

You moan as their cock slowly enters your insides at the same time. 

They groan, “Shit, you’re still so tight.” Gojo grunts, and Geto chuckles, “We’ll loosen you up, baby.” 

They went slow at first—Geto in front of you while Gojo is behind you—both plowing your pussy. 

“So big…” you moan as they still went slowly. 

“Who’s bigger?” Gojo chuckles as you can’t really think.

“Both?” you answered as they chuckled. 

“Fucking slut” 

You gasp and moan as they plowed your pussy faster; the sploshing noises could be heard.

“Fuck yeah.” Gojo grunts in pleasure as he plows you like you’re a ragdoll, “so tight and wet.” 

Geto grunts as he plows you faster. “Such a slutty pussy,” he moans.

You whine as their rhythm doesn't match, your pussy getting assaulted by their cocks as you moan loudly. 

“You and your pussy are so loud,” Gojo coos as he fucks you. “Want anyone to hear?” 

Your pussy twitches at that; they growl as they plow you harder. 

They spew jets of cum as you moan, feeling full.

And oh, of course they’re not satisfied.

[hellisntreal]

The Masters on their own! Plus, Fires has a hat.

Design comments under the cut bc I had a lot of fun

Mirrors: A silver handmirror, with red and gold vines fitting the domain of dreams

Veils: An owl! The least thematic faceplate and a rather simple design, but Veils is a sneaky one. The Masters are metaphorically owls sometimes, and I think a sharp subtle look suits it.

Cups: The final one I drew because I didn't know what to do. Like Veils, Cups isn't everything it seems. I went with the "empty, flowing cup" look.

Pages: Reading a lil book :3 Pages' face is shaped like a book and so is its robe. Tried to get every neathbow colour in there.

Wines: The first one I drew and thus honestly understated. Its face is shaped like a wineglass and there's a lil crown on its head

Spices: Variety is the Spices of life? As one wanting the domain of Parabola, I went with honey and a touch of tiger. Its face is a plant, I was thinking specifically of the lotus-eaters, you also are welcome to read it as Weird Weed

Fires: Flames and charred ashes. A bit of extra splatter on the cloak which could be burnt, covered in oil, or just dyed by the blood of the proletariat. It's face is meant to be a phoenix

Candles: A melting candle with some sacrificial victim vibes. A circular face for an absence, a well.

Irons: I kept trying to stick to 'approximately these are robes' but Iron... Iron has had a tailor mock its robe up into a beautiful iron casket. I wanted a bit of a pen/dagger shape too.

Happles: Wanted to mix both Apples and Hearts things, so a candy apple, zigsag jaws, sausage, dripping blood... Happles faceplate is an apple dangling from a stem

Stones: Absolutely decked out and glammed up, diamond in hand, shine on, slayyy. Stones just kinda has a canon design and aesthetic it was really easy to adapt

[bitter-me]

Homage

Kabukimono | M. Reader as C!Philza [Minecraft] (Platonic)

----------

"Someone wrote this song before.."

----------

"Father look!"

The hooded man turned around at the sound of someone calling for him, it was a little boy with short indigo hair and indigo eyes, he ran up to him with a huge smile and a couple of apples on his arms. "Oh, you brought some apples, where did you get them?" He asked as he eyed the apples.

"From that nice old lady I help yesterday, she gave it to me!" The boy explains cheerfully. His smile seems to widen with every second. The man can't held but also smiles he let's out a chuckle. "That's nice, did you say 'thank you'?"

"I did!"

Patting the boy's head, the man gave a small smile. "That's good, remember to be kind to people and say thank you when they're kind to you." He stated with a calm and gentle voice, like a father talking to his child. "I will, can we eat these when we get back?" He asked, gesturing to the apples on his arms. "Of course." The other respond with the same smile as before making the younger smile even bigger.

They walked for what felt like hours, until they arrived at a field with a house not far away. The boy always enjoy the open field, he enjoys running through them with the wind flowing through his hair and without fail, the moment he turns around to look at the house, he'll see the man smiling fondly at him with a soft expression. Entering the house, the man immediately closed the door behind him and locking it, lowering the hood of his black cloak, he took it off and hang it on the coat hanger next to the door revealing his [H. Length] [H. Color] hair and black wings.

"Come on, Kabukimono . Let's wash does apples so we can eat it." He said as he walk towards the kitchen with the boy following closely. "Okay!" Kabukimono went to the sink and start washing the apples, before handing them to the winged man to cut. Kabukimono watches the man cutting the apples and peeling some of the skin, turning the apples into cute little rabbits. He watches in awe as the winged man made it look so easy. Maybe he could do that to?

Afterward he cleaned all the messes before bringing the plate of apples to the terrace. Both of them sit next to each other with the plate in between them. Kabukimono swings his leg as he eats the apple happily and admiring the beautiful view of the open field, sneaking a glance or two at the winged man also eating the apples beside him. Once both of them finished eating, the plate was put to the side while both of them sits next to each other with the man's right wing wrapped around the small boy.

Kabukimono smiles fondly at the older, giving him a closed eye smile he said. "Thank you for taking me in, Mister [Name]. I'm really happy to live with you, and I'm sorry for calling you father earlier, it kinda just—"

Turning his head towards Kabukimono [Name] caress his cheek resulting in him to stop talking before making him look up at him. Kabukimono looked at the older confused only for [Name] to give him a smile and said. "There's no need to thank me, and it's alright, you can call me 'father' if you want to, you're my son after all."

Kabukimono smile widened, he was so luck to have this kind, and caring man to be his father figure. He then places his hand on top of [Name]'s larger one and lean his head towards his hand.

'I'm so luck.'

'I'm so luck to have met this man."

'This man that I could consider as my own father.'

----------

A small boy woke up in the middle of nowhere and was surrounded by a bunch of snow and trees.

He was abandoned...

Abandoned by the person that's supposed to love and care for them more than anything...

His creator...

.....His mother...

The boy hugged his legs close to his chest as an attempt to muffled his cries. Suddenly, the sounds of rustling leaves alerted the boy of another presence. Someone's here.

He quickly looked up and saw...

A tall man with [H. Length] [H. Color] hair and...

....Black wings.

"Are you lost? I can help you find your parents." He said with a voice as soft and gentle as the snow. His voice was warm and comforting, like a father talking to his child. The boy stayed quiet, averting his eyes from the man and lowering his head. He doesn't what the man to see him in such a state, plus...

He wouldn't understand...

He wouldn't understand that he--

"Were you abandoned?"

He turned his head as fast as he could to the man with widened eyes, giving the winged man a full view of his tear-stained face and red puffy eyes. "I know what it's like being all alone like that... being abandoned by someone..." He said weakly, his voice going quieter on every word he uttered.

With that, the man was suddenly by his side wrapping both of his wings around him, trapping the boy in. He then caress his tear-stained cheek and gave him a warm and soft smile, a smile that a loving family member would give. "But it's alright, you don't have to go through that pain... you don't have to go through what I went through... You don't have to cry anymore... as of today, I'll be your father, and you're my son."

He then pressed his forehead against the younger with a closed eye smile, the same smile he gave earlier. The tears in the boy's eyes streams down the moment he utters those words. The man immediately pulls him into a hug while his wings wrapped both of them gently and keeping them warm.

"I'll give you a world filled with joy and laugher."

"All you need to do is just open up your heart to me."

"There's no need to worry, I'm here after all."

"Father's here.."

[tubbytarchia]

apologies if you've already expressed them before, but any thoughts about mounders from secret life? (including joel ofc)

Love them. so dearly. Pearl being surrounded by people who support her and don't treat her like a ticking time bomb who's gonna morph into that DL image of an ostracized witch again any second and be a burden (coughs.) is exactly what she needs. BigB in Limited Life was similarly good to her but aughhh Mounders were really sweet

Arguably the most notable aspect of the Mounders is Pearl's desire for Bdubs to secure a win. She expresses wanting one of them to win and outlive her on multiple occasions, but Bdubs is the one she singles out, not unlike Impulse in WL, except she clinged to Impulse as the one member of her team that didn't make quips and remarks about her being untrustworthy but didn't show any genuine connection or desire for one otherwise (reflected in how she tended to not spend a lot of time with him one-on-one and that of those times the subject matter most often circled back around to him hopefully winning, always framed like a secondary goal for Pearl aside from the one she was trying to achieve with Gem), in the end clinging less to Impulse than she clung to the idea of someone winning as per her wish and help. With the Mounders and especially Bdubs, it was much more based in connection and less so in Pearl seeking direction - something to achieve that she could feel good about. She cared about Bdubs and Bdubs greatly cared about her too (There's this one scene where he goes "Your cloak is turning red, Pearl, careful..." in a very concerned dad way and it makes me feel things), and he did want to win for her sake although he was clearly uncertain and dancing around the idea on at least one occasion. It's genuinely very heartwarming to see him want to do well because Pearl believed in him, helped by the continuously enforced (and not surface-level) trust between them

Which, of course, applies to the rest of the Mounders too. I never and I mean never stop thinking about that scene where Pearl is ready to flee from Joel for his ability to guess her very obvious task, only for him to intentionally guess it incorrectly and Bdubs following suit. Earlier in that session too, Scott told both Joel and Bdubs what pearl's task is so they could guess it, which Joel vaguely brushed off but Bdubs was vocal about not betraying Pearl. Likewise Pearl doesn't snitch on Joel when she clearly knows his task to backseat game her. Mumbo... did try to hurt/kill them for his red tasks so. lol. But he's a sweetie. There were still cute moments where he was looking out for the others even if he became kind of a desperate wet bag on his red life. Mounder for life.

Joel and Bdubs also are very cute just between them two. Bdubs accidentally made Joel succeed Grian's task once and I think he keeps trying to make up for it because later he's just snitching to Joel nonstop about all the intel he has so that Joel could try and guess people's tasks. Except for Etho's of course. Something about Joel digging underground calling Bdubs his favorite snitch as he yaps away above ground. He also praises Joel whilst he's digging as if it's his task to do so. And also at the start of one session, Joel is low on hearts and Bdubs is persuaded to give him his, saying "you deserve it". Then he lies to Etho that Joel was so intimidating and scary and forced him. Then he lies to Impulse that Joel was pathetic and begging for it.??? Something wrong about him. That guy is hashtag not normal about Joel. The way they went out was really saddening (and maddening) to me but it was one final cute moment if even a very bittersweet one when Joel accidentally shot Bdubs, Bdubs tells himself to eat his golden apple, which reminds Joel to eat his right before Bdubs dies, followed by Joel. Scott taunting Joel about killing Bdubs makes me go GRGGGGRAHHHHHHH and of course Scott would do anything to fuck with Joel GGRAAHHHHHHHGGGG sorry. And it makes sense, they were teammates, but still important to me that Joel cares that much to begin with, especially in the context of being within his first stable allyship outside of his soulbind in DL

Joel in general being in a proper alliance was really nice to see. Like idk when I was first watching SL I lowkey expected him to be missing from the question ritual at least once but no <3 he was always there <3 The questions they did for each session in general was so cute. It's so much like, following the text-book example on how to bond, and then they all flee as soon as they get their questions for the first several sessions with very vague confirmation that they can turn to one another as needed. But they did bond!! Even Bdubs with how god awful abnormal he is about Etho, which I already went into depths about but it's so important to me. Genuinely such an awesome dynamic... Also I love that when Joel had to make a cult, he kept just recruiting the Mounders into it even after finishing that task

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

12 Days of Christmas: 2024 Christmas Event

Day 6: Fireplace

Pairing: Sky x Reader

Warning(s): N/A they cuddle

Notes: Dedicated to @sunflowersunnyl and every other Sky simp I've unknowingly deprived <33

Main Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Previous Day | Next Day

The house's front door groaned when you pushed it open, stopping just long enough to wipe your snow-caked boots on the rough mat just outside of the awning before stepping inside, signing when a rush of warm air caressed the exposed skin of your cheeks, pink from the chill and several accompanying gusts of biting wind. The bag of groceries was placed in the foyer, and you rejoiced in the loss of weight.

"Beloved? Is that you?" A voice called from the kitchen, and you grinned under the thick material of your scarf.

"The one and only!" you responded, shrugging off your heavy, frostbitten cloak, thick mittens, and scarf sturdy enough to strangle a man. Your boots came next, leaving you in a set of soft woolen socks, a corded tunic, and some leggings. "Did you miss me?"

A dark blonde head poked through the doorway, revealing the smiling face of Sky. The hero's bright cerulean eyes seemed to shimmer as he looked at you, and his dimples were on full, brilliant display as he walked over to envelop you in a god-tier embrace. "Every minute," he murmured into your hair, hands fanning over the covered skin of your back.

"Flirt," you teased, cheeks rosy from the onslaught of heat. Sky nuzzled his nose against the crown of your head, hands drifting down to take yours--

"By Hylia, you're freezing!"

--only to freeze (ha ha) when his fingers touched the chilled tips of your own, immediately wrapping them against the warm skin of his palms, desperate to inject some heat back into near-frozen flesh. "My love, we've talked about this," oh no, not his mom voice. "You need gloves. The Surface isn't as forgiving as Skyloft."

"I know," you rested your cheek against his chest, just barely able to keep from tilting your head further to listen to the rhythm of his heart. "I was in a rush to go to the market before another snowstorm hit."

One of your hands was released. Sky touched your cheek, expression hardening when he realized just how cold you were. "You'll catch your death if you're not careful," he warned, but you knew it was all born of concern. His thumb stroked your flesh, like a sizzling brand against pure, driven snow. "Go to the couch for me? I'll make tea."

Aww, wasn't that sweet?

"You don't have to," you said gently, not wanting to be a burden. Not that he had ever called you one, but you still tried to avoid it. "I'm not that cold. Really."

His response was a silently-raised eyebrow, and you caved quicker than you cared to admit.

"Fine, fine," you raised your hands in surrender, already beginning to backtrack to the couch. "You know what else helps? Cuddles."

"Coming right up," said Sky before he leaned forward to tenderly peck the apple of your cheek. You returned the favor with a chilly kiss to his nose, and the two of you parted, with you scurrying to the couch and him slinking back to the kitchen.

With a pleasant sigh, you settled onto the soft cushions, snagging a nearby blanket to swing over your lap in an attempt to assuage the chill, which had already begun to fade. Before you, the fireplace crackled warmly, looking as though it had been recently stoked.

It wasn't until your eyelids began to droop that you felt a familiar weight join you on the couch. A heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you to Sky's chest, and you snuggled against him with nary a sound, a wave of contentment lapping at your heart like the gentle waters of Lake Floria.

"Here," murmured the hero as he placed a steaming mug in your hands, which immediately closed around the object in an attempt to suck its warmth like the leech you were. Sky's grin was encouraging. "Try it; It's a new blend."

"You spoil me," you murmured, lifting the cup to your lips, uncaring of the nearly scalding temperature of the liquid within. It was all the same to you, and he knew it. You smacked your lips, surprised by the hints of mulberry contained in the blend. "It's wonderful," you shot him a small smile, hoping it was enough to convey your appreciation more than words ever could. "Where did you find the recipe?"

Sky's eyes crinkled at the corners and he held you closer, fingers stroking a delicate rhythm on the fabric covering your arm. "Actually, I've been experimenting. I think I'll keep using this one, though."

Your smile widened; you had nearly forgotten about his tea-creating endeavors because, really, when one had explored the entire world, it was only natural to move on to lesser-known mediums, which, in your boyfriend's case, happened to be tea. Obviously, you had no complaints, except when he attempted to use lizalfos talons in one such concoction, but you shut that down quicker than PDA at the Academy.

"Well, it's amazing," you praised, taking another, larger sip. Fuck, that was good. "Let me guess: pine stems?"

There was nothing but pride in Sky's eyes. "Yes, actually! I didn't think you'd notice."

"Oh, so you dare underestimate my tea-detection skills?" you chortled against his side, prompting your boyfriend to press the first of many kisses against the crown of your head. "My tastebuds and I expected better."

"My deepest apologies," the Chosen Hero chuckled, bringing his hand up to card through your hair, further warding the chill that lingered in your bones. "I suppose I'll have to make it up to you."

"You're damn right," you teased, nuzzling the tip of your cold nose into the junction between his neck and shoulder. "How about some cuddles? I hear they warm the soul just as good as cuckoo noodle soup."

Sky responded by hugging you tighter, the words 'as if you have to ask' going wholly unsaid. His head dipped, cheek resting against your hair. "I love you," he said; softly, like a promise. Like a vow.

"Me too, Link," you murmured, just as quietly. Anything louder felt like a disturbance in the fragile, perfect peace developing the two of you like the softest blanket. Darkness crept into the edges of your vision.

You sipped your tea, and the fireplace crackled softly.

The fire was out.

You stared at it, cuddled in the unyielding arms of your lover. Your tea was gone, the mug having been moved to the nearby couch-side table, and a chill was beginning to creep into the room.

An involuntary shiver wracked you, likely nothing more than a half-baked reaction to the cold sweeping over your toes, but the trembling movement still prompted Sky's eyes to crack open, mere cerulean-and-white slits that shone in the glimmering moonlight. It was late, and you knew better than anyone how much he needed the sleep. How much you both needed it. "...Cold?"

"Just a bit," you admitted, using the last remnants of strength in your body to bring your feet off the freezing hardwood, letting them rest on the slightly less chilled cushions. You yawned against the side of his throat, hoping it would be enough to convince him to drift off once more. "...'M fine, you can go back to bed."

But Sky was already shifting, peering at you with a groggy expression. "No, no," he said, sounding more awake by the second, and you half-heartedly cursed his ability to read you like a book. "I'll get the fire going and we can head to bed."

Fuck, you could already feel him beginning to sit up. In a last-ditch effort, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing yourself as close as you could. "Don't leave meeee."

But Sky was not to be deterred. With a grace you'd only witnessed on the battlefield, he gathered you in his arms, maneuvered your legs around his waist, and held you there with an arm under your bottom in a gesture that had you feeling far warmer than any fire. You squeaked, and he chuckled, looking prouder than you'd seen in a long time. "There. Now I'm not leaving you."

Your mouth opened. Then closed. By Hylia, he wasn't even breaking a sweat! "I–" you paused, realizing that nothing you were about to say would be remotely helpful to the situation at hand, and let yourself be carried to the fireplace, where he bent, STILL carrying you, and refilled the logs, using a match to reignite a blaze. With one hand.

What the fuck??

Per usual, you were deeply impressed. "Link," you breathed, almost in awe. He turned his head to look at you. "You're amazing. Completely, utterly amazing."

"So are you," Sky said softly, like a promise that you would have given anything to keep. "Let's get you warmed up."

"Scandalous," you couldn't help but joke, heart fluttering when he chuckled, pressing a warm smooch to the side of your face, making for the bedroom with unhurried steps.

"Ah, so you were fibbing when you called me the perfect gentleman yesterday?" the Chosen Hero shot back, just as teasing, bumping the door open with a deft flick of his hip. You tried not to recall the other things those hips could do. "I'm appalled, beloved."

"Oh, I'm sure," you rolled your eyes playfully, clinging a bit tighter to his neck. "How outrageous of me, truly."

He hummed, trying and failing to set you down on the bed. Your expression morphed into a smirk, and you tightened your legs around his waist.

"Oh nooo, I'm stuck. Whatever shall I do?" You bemoaned, repeating a line that was typically only reserved for pretending to get stuck in various nooks around the house.

Sky's response was a wide grin that sent droves of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Well..." he trailed off, letting the moment drag on. "I suppose you'll have to spend the night with me, my love."

As if you didn't already!

"Whaaaat?" You gaped in faux horror. "How cruel! And you said you were a hero!"

"Mm, I did, but there's only so much I can do," he began to lean forward; until your back hit the bed and you had one very sleepy hero covering you like a very heavy, very affectionate blanket.

"Link!"

"Hm?"

Your lips pursed in what you hoped was a very convincing pout, because you were just about to die of laughter. "You're squishing me."

A fauxly-unsympathetic face buried in the junction between your shoulder and neck. "Oh, my dear, that sounds like a 'you problem'."

"Rude!" You huffed, though it held no real annoyance.

Sky waited a few seconds, then grunted, releasing you and rolling the two of you over so you were lying against his chest. Satisfied, you snuggled your head just under his jaw, legs tangling as sleep gripped you in an unbreakable hold, heralded by the heavy wrap of his arms over your back and the gentle, thudding pulse beneath your ear. "I love you," the Hero of the Skies murmured, holding you like you were something precious, because, to him, you were. "So much."

"I love you too," you lifted your head just enough to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat. "Always."

The word 'forever' was left unspoken.

I need a man like Sky IMMEDIATELY. Regular men just ain't going to cut it anymore.

[lady-ashfade]

What about medieval Percy Jackson? Literally anything. I just like the idea

-£ Medieval Percy Jackson x reader

-£ warnings: short, being chased, Percy getting into trouble as usual, just really for fun.

passing through the streets he tried not to knock anyone down but the path was so packed with people, of course he had to run through the market streets. the guards behind him shouted for him to stop and didn’t care who they pushed to catch up to him. classic.

the kings men always thought they were better then the common man.

his eyes found a stall with clothes on it and he noticed a regular black cloak. running by it he quickly snatched it from the table and yelled his apologies to the man running the stall.

for what felt like years he finally passed through a bigger crowd of people. he thanked the gods above and pushed through to lose the guards. he made his way through and he could hear the men’s voices slowly drown out. throwing on the hood to disguise himself he made his way to the alleyway between the building. 

once get got into the shade he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. he was getting sick of running away every day. even though he never did anything wrong.

a sharp point carefully pressed against his back and his body stiffened at the familiar feeling. “got something for me Jackson?” he knew that voice as well as being held at blade point. the same person who always took his missions from under his fingertips. always one step ahead.

“not really. I have a bad apple on my bag if you want that.” he cracked a joke that made the them huff out in amusement too.

“where is it?” He looked around to find half of their face. if only he could know what’s underneath that mask. “don’t give me that look, give it.”

the blade pressed harder but he knew they wouldn’t do anything or at this moment at least. they liked to play with their pray. “can’t you just let me have this one?”

he saw them smirk under the mask and roll their eyes, dropping the blade from his back and step back. “that’s the thing,” they sighed and kept their eyes on him. something about their tone made him confused…

“I’m actually not here for the cup.”

their foot hit his stomach before he could react and he dropped to the ground only to get tackled down. he struggled but they were clearly skilled in tying up someone. the ropes tugged against the skin of his wrist as he groaned in pain.

“I can pay you double if you let me go.” he tried to bargain with them. they chuckled again and leaned up after finishing up with the ropes.

“no you can’t.” They stated. he knew he couldn’t but it was worth a try. he was pulled up and forced to stand as they held onto him. “where are taking me?”

his worry struck him and who they had been paid by. the king, the monsters he haunted, many people wanted him. “luckily for you, you aren’t going to die. but I think your dad wants a visit.” they said. he was pushed and almost tripped but he caught himself. he groaned at the mention of his father.

“let’s go pretty boy.” the nickname made his ears ring and his cheeks flush.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 3

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 1426

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

JAKE POV - (One Year Ago)

He can’t stop watching you. Smiling, laughing, serving customers caffeinated beverages on their way to work. The sunlight streams through the front glass window of the cafe, the rays illuminating everything of you that they reach. Your hair, your eyes, your skin. You’re bright, happy, healthy, stunning, and it does unreasonable things to his heart.

He’s been sitting there for two hours now, not even pretending to occupy himself with a magazine or newspaper or anything that will make him less conspicuous. You’re the only thing that has his attention. The only thing that ever has his attention when he comes to this world. He spends this time, each second of it, observing your every move, memorizing every feature of your face, and when you leave for the day, he follows. Just so he can be a little bit closer to you.

You’ve never noticed him, and sometimes he chuckles at your lack of awareness and how well it works in his favor. You have no idea that he trails you from the cafe to your apartment. You have no idea that he stands outside your building as night cloaks the day. You have no idea that he leans against the same lamppost he always does when he comes to see you, his stare latched on to your window—third floor, second from the left—as you strip yourself of your uniform and into your pajamas. He’d watch forever if he could, but he, and those like him, do not have that luxury. 

The hand that lands on Jake’s shoulder is expected and he turns his head to his friend. 

“Time to go,” Javy says. “In a month you can come back and stalk her some more, but we’re cutting it close. We have to get back.”

Jake sighs, giving your bedroom window another glance. The light clicks off. “I know.”

“She’s not going anywhere. I’ve kept an eye on her in your absence and she’s had the same routine for the last six months,” Javy reminds him as he rolls his shoulders, preparing for the weight of his wings to return. 

Cartilage and bone materialize as his gray feathers, one by one, seek him out from the spot he had shed them. Each one returns to their place, layering themselves together until his wings are fully reformed. 

Javy gives them a testing flap, scattering the fallen leaves at their feet. When he sees Jake has yet to call for his own wings, he huffs. “Seriously, it’s eleven fifty-six. Do you really want to spend six months in The Tower because you chose to stare at your little girlfriend rather than be punctual…again? You literally just got out.”

Jake stands from his leaned position and a moment later his black feathers find him. He spreads his wings out in a stretch. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Javy says with pride. “So let’s go.” Then he’s shooting up into the night, a speck in the darkened sky. 

Jake takes one last look at your window, imagining himself in that apartment, holding you, kissing you, falling asleep beside you. He doesn’t want to leave you behind. Leaving you behind is leaving a part of his heart behind. But he has to do it. For the night, you’re warm and safe tucked in your bed, and that will have to be enough for him until his return next month.

“Good night, Angel,” he mutters. “Sleep well.” Then he follows after his friend.

—

Food everywhere. Grapes smashed in between the stones of the walls; plums dotting the floor, one having rolled under the bed; juice from apple slices staining the rumpled bedsheets; the silver tray, now dented in the middle, thrown across the room. All as if some bratty tornado tore through the place. Except now the brat is missing. 

He’d guessed you would struggle to stay put once you regained enough of your energy, which is exactly why he'd planned to sit by your bed while you slept. But—albeit very reluctantly—he had listened to Javy’s advice about giving you some space for the night. A mistake, clearly, because now he has to hunt his little escapee down.

Shaking his head, Jake rubs the back of his neck and gives the room one last scan in case you got the bright idea to hide until he got close enough for you to whack him in the skull with something hard. When the assault doesn’t come, he jogs to the window and peers through it the way you were when he found you standing there the other day, your pearly wings in all their grandness cascading gracefully from your back. 

Glancing to the nearby field many stories below, he spots you seated in the grass with your knees tucked to your chest. His pounding heart stutters in relief.

How the fuck did you get out, Angel? he thinks as he hurries from the room, down the multiple twisting staircases, and through the maze of halls. You’re the last person who should have the ability to leave this place. New residents of The Tower have been known to roam the halls for months at a time, trying to find a way out until they surrender to exhaustion and return to their rooms, and yet you walked right out the front door?

When he reaches the main floor, he stops short at the silhouetted figure leaning against the doorframe. He knows that figure well, and realizing that someone he trusts has been keeping an eye on you from a reasonable distance permits Jake to take a calming breath before he steps closer. 

“She’s…content, I think,” Javy says, tucking back his large gray wings to provide enough space for Jake to comfortably stand beside him. “Doesn’t seem to want to run off.”

“Only because she doesn’t know where to go,” Jake sighs, running his fingers through his hair. And thank fuck for that. “How long has she been out here?”

“At least since four. That's when I found her,” Javy informs him. He looks at Jake, playfully grinning. “We watched the sunrise together.”

“Has she seen you?”

“No. She hasn’t so much as turned her head in hours,” he answers, then after a pause of consideration, says, “How do you think she managed to make it out on her first try?”

Jake shakes his head. He has that very same question. Anyone would. “I don’t know, but had I known she could, I would have locked the damn door.”

“Maybe The Tower felt bad for her,” Javy suggests. “You know she always made it easy for the unfairly imprisoned.”

Unfairly imprisoned. Yes, Jake supposes that is what you are. But it’s not for forever, and it’s simply to protect you while you adjust to your new life by his side. Surely, you can understand that. And then you can start accepting the happiness and love you’re denying yourself. 

“She fucking scared me,” Jake says, and Javy snickers.

“Then I imagine you're even.”

“She's not scared of me, she just has to get used to me.” Jake watches the gust of air flutter your feathers. You still haven’t moved, save for one hand's fingers which continuously weave through the blades of grass. “She's taking her damn time though.”

“Don't be unfair. She's known you for a couple of weeks—a couple of very difficult weeks—which is nothing compared to the head start you had.” Also true, to Jake’s dislike. But he’s shown you how much he cares, and that should be plenty to help you catch up. Then Javy says, “You should take her back. Just for a few hours.”

Jake’s head snaps to the right, eyes just short of bugging from his head. “Are you insane?”

Javy shrugs. “The day is coming up. It might be easier for her to be here with you if she knows she has the option to visit her world.”   

“That’s not her world anymore.” 

“True,” Javy agrees. “But don't you miss seeing her smile?”

Jake swallows. He’d give anything to see you smile again; smile at him again. Though he was gifted one when he was deep inside of you, praising you, telling you how beautiful you were, offering the same compliment since he brought you here has not elicited the same reaction. If anything, you frown more intensely, with more effort. 

“It's too soon,” Jake says. “She's still attached, and I can't trust her.”

“It's more important that she trusts you,” Javy counters. “And this could be your olive branch, my friend.”

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