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rabbit-reveries · 1 year ago

Text

—𝑺weet Sister

Synopsis: Aemond fears his youngest sister might fall prey to Aegon's infamous appetite. So, as a dutiful brother, he decides to claim her before he can.

Warnings: Smut, canon-typical incest, innocence kink, slight degradation, pet names, praise, way too many "good girl"s, p in v sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 5124

He watches his sister with one violet eye, trying to hide in his face the anger bubbling deep in his chest at the sound of her girlish laughter. She doesn't even realize, does she? No, of course she doesn't. Aeressa, innocent as spring's first bloom, gazes at Aegon with wonder, unaware of the web of lies he weaves to ensnare her attention. Watching is so hard— No, he can't risk letting his guard down. A second is all his brother needs. To protect her honor, he must continue to keep watch. In amazement, the girl turns to him and takes his hands in hers.

"Isn't it incredible, Aemond?" squeals her. Incredible indeed. The youngest of the five siblings and Daeron's twin, Aeressa has no way of remembering the event Aegon retells, but the second-born prince surely has, and it was nothing like in the words of the heir. Doesn’t his tongue burn from all this nonsense? Ever since the princess’ first signs of coming of age, he’d been pulling all sorts of stunts to try and capture her gaze, no doubt in hopes of deceiving their poor sister into buying his fake affection and giving herself to him. Aemond watched the same happen with Helaena years before. The fact that he still cares for Aeressa soothes his heart, a clear giveaway that his older brother has yet to succeed in his devious plans. Sweet, sweet Aeressa… Too precious for her own good. He holds her hand over his. If he could, he’d keep her locked to himself, safe from the dangers of the world and its men.

She laughs again, the glorious sound filling the dining table. The prince watches Aeressa blush as Aegon leans in to whisper something in her ear, clenched jaw and hand protectively over hers. Her expression is soft and betrays no alarm, but she turns away to rest her head on Aemond’s shoulder. He relaxes the tiniest bit. So she hasn't fallen. There is still time. Aegon seems to notice it as well, all the hidden messages in such a small act, and it is clear on his face. He’s been growing impatient, and Aemond pretends not to notice. Pretends it doesn’t frighten him. He knows his brother’s only been playing nice because the subject of the matter is their sister, but that he has no qualms over taking what he deems his. The servant girls are all so very terrified of him.

In what can only be a desperate measure, Aegon takes the hand that used to sit under Aemond’s and kisses it, leaning once more to whisper in Aeressa’s ear. Aemond turns to Helaena, hoping now would be the time for a jealous fit, but it is only a feeble expectancy knowing her. Characteristically, she picks at her food, seemingly unaware of her brother-husband's antics. It is only by the slight furrow of her brow that he knows the princess isn’t deaf and blind to the scene displayed in front of her. Alicent is sitting at the head of the table and watches her children with a look of worry. If she didn’t have the same look every time she gazed at them, Aemond might have considered it some small victory. Gods, don’t they see this indecency? Is he alone on Earth? Is he the only one who might be able to protect this girl?

When supper is over and all are dismissed, he notices how Aegon corners their younger sister before retiring. Aegon has never been one for subtlety, thank the Seven Heavens. Aemond runs after her, afraid to leave her alone in the empty hallway leading to her chambers.

“Sister!” he calls, glad to see her grin when she turns and notices it is him.

“Brother.” she exhales, one hand over her heart. “You startled me.”

“Why? Did you think it was Aegon?”

She bites her lip, and it’s all the answer he gets.

“Has he been bothering you?”

Aeressa half laughs. “No, not BOTHERING… He’s just… a bit pushy.”

Aemond walks to her, stopping when he stands by her side. She tries to avert his gaze, but he picks her chin between his thumb and index to force the girl to look him in the eye. “Be truthful, Aeressa. What has he been pushing you to?”

“Gods, Aemond…” says her, eyes big as the moon set on his “He’s not a bad person, you know?” She places one of her dainty hands over his arm, perhaps trying to appeal to his emotions, but all Aemond can think is how close she is, how his breathing fans over her delicate face. She is so beautiful he almost forgives her for defending their brother. Such a precious gem.

“You don’t understand, Aeressa. You never do.” he shakes his head. “You only ever see the good in people.”

She frowns. “And you only ever see the bad.”

He wants to say more, scold her for her trustful nature, warn her of Aegon’s malice, but no words leave his mouth when the hand that wasn’t holding his arm reaches to cup his cheek. As if by instinct, he covers her hand with his. She is so close. So close. He can smell the oils she bathes in, and see the world of wonders living in the space between her parted lips. She is so close. He could close the distance, taste her if so he pleased.

Aemond forces himself awake from the fantasies, reminding himself of his place as her older brother.

“He whispered in your ears during supper. What did he say?”

His inquiry breaks the moment and Aeressa pulls away, repelled by the shock of reality. “I don’t know, he said so many things…” she says, almost musing, and begins to walk down the corridor again.

“Aeressa.” Aemond pulls her by the arm. “I’m not playing with you. What did Aegon say?”

She opens a grin, and at that moment he can’t read her in the least. His grip on her arm tightens. “What did Aegon say?” he repeats, more forcefully this time.

“He wants me to come to his chambers at night. He says we’ll play this fun game. Why is it so important?”

It is universally known how taken with his sister Aemond is. She’d been his little pet from a very young age, always following her older brother like a shadow, her twin by her side. When Daeron was sent away to fight, her attention had been solely Aemond’s, and he’d grown to cherish her company. Now, however, hearing those words coming from her mouth with a smile… He’d never been this compelled to hit her. Stupid girl. His grip on her arm tightens again, this time enough to earn a whimper from Aeressa.

“You’re hurting me, Aemond! What is going on?” she squeals, trying to free herself. She is so confused.

Of course, she is. She doesn’t understand the ways of men, she’s just a girl. She has no idea what kind of game Aegon plays - or plans on playing with her. Aemond lets go of her at last.

“You will not visit him tonight, do you hear me?”

“Why not? What if the game is fun?”

He grits his teeth, looking back at his sister’s bewildered expression. How can he explain the world to her? How can he keep her safe? He takes one hand to his hair, mind making work of his questions like a big machine with confusing and missing pieces. Aegon will not stop, even if Aemond himself keeps watch on her door. He’ll find a way, a secret passage, a time of the day when no one will be able to come aid. If there’s one thing he knows about his brother is how stubborn he can get when denied things he wants. And if there is another thing he knows about his brother is how great his appetite is, especially for maidens.

Aemond turns back to his sister, who watches him wearing the same confusion.

“So you want to play a game?”

“Embroidery gets very boring sometimes…” Aeressa tries to explain herself, gazing low on the ground, cradling the arm he squeezed.

Gods, she’s afraid of him… What now?

He sighs.

“Let us go to your chambers, I will play with you.”

She looks back up, childish delight mixed in with a slight distrust. “Will you?”

“Yes.”

She takes his hand and begins leading the way. The girl gets through the door and motions for him to follow, but he tells her to wait for a minute so he can tip the guard with enough gold to buy silence and one night in his sister’s bed.

It is the first time he’s entered Aeressa’s chambers in what seems like forever. It is covered in fresh flowers, the sweet scent filling the space between the four walls. The bed is grand as his own but wrapped in pink quilts and blankets. She sits on the edge of the mattress, swinging her legs a little.

“What game is it, brother?”

Aemond steps closer until he’s standing in front of her, looking down at her smiling face. If there is a time to stop, it is now. But if he stops… He knows Aegon won’t. Taking a deep breath, he cups her cheek much as she did to him in the hallway, face as stone. He loves her, he does, and because he loves her, there is no going back. This is his duty as a devoted brother. She can’t stay this naive forever.

“Have you ever played house?”

“Yes, of course! It was my favorite game with Daeron.” she says, innocent as ever.

“Do you want to play house with me?”

Aeressa laughs, that feminine, childish sound. “I think I’m a bit too old now… I haven’t played in ages.”

“Make an exception for today. I promise it’ll be fun.”

She looks away for a second but soon looks back at him with a smile. “If you promise.”

The prince takes another deep breath, trying to set it straight in his brain how this will go.

“This is the game: I am your husband, you are my wife, and this is our wedding night. Do you know what you are supposed to do?”

She hesitates for an instant. “Serve you…?”

“Yes. And how will you do that?”

“With a kiss?”

He feels himself smile at that, caressing the cheek he cups. “Very well. Have you ever been kissed before, Aeressa?”

“Only by Daeron when we played house last.”

Aemond has to hold back a flush of jealousy. All this time worrying about Aegon, it seems Daeron had gotten a headstart before leaving for the military. His caresses stop and he holds her face with both hands. He thinks of saying something, but now that he has Aeressa looking up at him with big lavender eyes, there are no words left. All he wants is to claim her rosy lips, and that’s what he does.

It is obvious she has little to no idea of what she's doing, which brings satisfaction to him. He tries to start chaste but soon finds himself tugging at her bottom lip, trying to get Aeressa to open her mouth for him to enter. When she finally gets the tip, his tongue slides in, and her hand flies to the arm that cradles her face, alarmed by the new sensation. It only amuses him more.

Startled by the intrusion, she opens her eyes wide and pulls back.

“Your tongue, it’s-”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Yes. That is what a real kiss is like. Do you not like it?"

A slight blood rush colors her cheeks. “It feels odd, but… It isn’t unpleasant.”

His thumb caresses her bottom lip, a starved look on his face. “Good. Try to match my pace, hm?”

Aeressa tries to pull back when he leans in, but she’s no match to the iron grip of the hands on her face. The prince kisses her again, this time stripping away all of the niceties he paid her at first, going straight for what he wants. His tongue laps at the inside of her mouth like fire licking at tapestries, spreading some weird warmth through her body. It might be the lack of oxygen, but she feels lightheaded, suddenly clinging to her brother like he, the arsonist, might save her from being burned alive.

She pulls away, struggling to breathe. The room is full of smoke. With her eyes now open, she can see the way Aemond gazes at her, and a tremble rushes through her body. His one eye is dark, veiled by a haze of something she doesn’t quite get. Desire? His hands pull her back for another kiss, searing, hot, all-consuming, and this time they don’t stay put on her face. Aeressa notices with confusion he is laying her down on the bed. Aemond can hardly hold back now, pulling her skirts up to grab at her legs.

“Aemond!” she yelps, sitting up. “You can’t lift a lady’s skirt!”

Yes, maybe he got a bit carried away… This is his sister, his beautiful, sweet, innocent sister. She must be so shaken by his actions. He stops and looks back at the youngest princess and her red cheeks. “Dear wife, it’s all part of the game.” he says, trying to sound confident and not as eager, his hands running up and down her thighs. “As your husband, I’m allowed to see you bare, understand?”

He descends from the bed to kneel on the ground, takes off her shoes and kisses her feet, then starts a trail of caresses that, when close to her thighs, are open-mouthed and fervent. His fingers grip her skin hard enough to leave marks - she doesn’t know it, but this is Aemond struggling to keep his composure. The room is filled with the smell of flowers and Aeressa’s labored breath. Without realizing it, her hands fly to his hair, and she’s pulling him back up for another kiss.

“Greedy, aren't you?” Aemond chuckles. He can’t help but give her what she wants, though, relishing in her grabby hands trying to pull him closer, impossibly closer. He kisses her ardently, kisses her, and kisses her, his own hands trying to pull her to him. How many nights did he spend awake, fisting his cock, fantasizing about her touch, her heaving breath, her tongue on his, on him… And now she is pulling at his hair, kissing him back as if her very life depends on it.

He pulls back, earning a frustrated sigh from Aeressa as she searches for his mouth again, but he holds her chin and makes her throw back her head. He begins another trail, this time from her lips to her cheek to her ear, where he nibbles at the lobe. “I’m going to make you mine tonight. Mine, no one else’s.” he growls, and, close as they are, he can feel the chill running through her back. “Am I clear?”

“Yes.” she breathes.

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

He only wanted to hear her say his name, but the title might be even better. Grinning, he begins following south, down to her neck. “Little princess Aeressa seems to be quite sensitive...”, he thinks, drinking in the heavy breaths she takes when he kisses her neck. Against his better judgment, Aemond sucks in a hickey or two and leaves a bite that makes him want to leave a hundred, hearing the whimper she lets out at the first. He is hypnotized by how her chest rises with each breath, barely contained by the bodice of her dress.

With greedy hands, he tugs at the strings that hold her gown together. Impatient to have his attention solely on her again, Aeressa helps, and soon the fabric is loose around her. “Are you… Are you sure this is right?” asks her, holding the front of her bodice to not let her breasts spill. She wanted him back on her, but now that it is time to be seen naked, she is too timid to let go of the gown.

“Yes, this is right. I have never been so sure.” is what he thinks, wanting nothing more than to free her of this godforsaken dress and feel her skin on his. As to not startle her, though, he forces himself to hide the feverishness and smile calmly. “Do you feel wrong, my sweet?”

“...No.”

“Then how could it be anything but right?”

Hesitantly, she lets go of the bodice, letting it fall on her lap, her round breasts now on display for only him to gaze at. Aemond thinks they’re just the perfect size, custom-made to fit inside the palm of his calloused hands. “Good girl.” he praises and kisses her again. Aeressa arches her back in his embrace, entranced by his words, drinking them in. “Good girl.” he repeats. His hands travel along her torso, feeling her up, squeezing, pinching, and scratching. He lays her down again and tentatively pushes up the fabric of her dress, half expecting his sister to stop him again, but this time all she does is lace her arms through his neck to keep him closer, pressing her chest to his.

With her beneath him, whimpering so softly, Aemond feels like he might be in one of the Seven Heavens, or perhaps all seven at once. His hand snakes down between her thighs, and he can’t stop a groan from escaping feeling how slick she is. He wants nothing but to fuck her hard, have her scream his name so loud Aegon won’t be able to miss it… But she is his sister, not some common whore, and he owes her love and respect. This is all for her, after all. His finger circles the entrance of her cunt, the heel of his palm pressing down on her clit

The feeling bubbling down at the pit of Aeressa’s stomach is so foreign, strong enough to make her tremble inside her prince’s embrace. Her mouth is on his like he is the air she breathes, only pulling away at the feeling of intrusion when he inserts a finger inside her.

“Are you enjoying this?” he asks, hovering above her, his long white hair falling over her face. His finger pumps in and out of her with ease. As if to punctuate his question, he rubs the heel of his hand on her pearl, earning a sharp mewl from the girl.

She grabs at his shoulders, trying to still herself, eyes shut tight as if not being able to see her brother’s expression will somehow stop him from staring this intently at her. At this point, the princess is a blushing mess, her chest and neck covered in hickeys and bites, hair falling disheveled around her like a fallen angel’s halo.

“Well?” he presses on, now making hither motions that squeeze more sounds out of her. “I’ll stop if you can’t answer.”

Aeressa is often told she is too kind for her own good, always ready to see the good over the bad. At this moment, however, she is sure her brother must be some kind of demon, the only possible explanation for how he toys with her body and mind, so obviously enjoying the shame in her features. “...Yes”

He grins, wicked, and leans in to kiss her. Aemond swallows the cry she lets out when he surprises her with a second finger. “Good girl. Thank you for your honesty.” says the man, in a tone that asks “wasn't so hard, was it?”. Her body is on fire and he’s watching like it is something amazing. Because it is; because he’s completely entranced.

Her heavy breathing and moans fill the room, mixed with one or two sloppy sounds coming from her wet cunt. The symphony is shameful and burns in her ears. Aemond wishes he had the kind of self-control to let her come undone on his fingers, maybe on his mouth later on, but, suckling on her right breast as he masturbates her, he fears this might be too much for him to take. He is so hard it hurts, his trousers now the cruelest prison.

His sister whimpers loudly, unsatisfied, and frustrated when he pulls his fingers out of her. In the candlelight, his hand glistens with her wet. “What? Why did you stop?” Aeressa whines, lying under him with uneven breathing. The one-eyed prince licks one long stripe on his hand, too taken with the flavor to dignify her question with an answer. She tastes sinful, devilish, the forbidden fruit untouched.

“Open wide.”

“What?” she asks. He can’t possibly mean…

“Do as I say.”

Obedient as she’d always been, she parts her lips and allows her brother to stuff his fingers on her mouth. She can feel herself on his digits, the humiliation bringing the heat in the pit of her stomach to bubble like a witch’s brew.

“Good girl. Such a good girl…” Aemond smirks and kisses her once more, the taste dancing on both their tongues. Aeressa figures he would go back to his ministrations and spreads her legs just a bit wider, waiting for his hand to dip in between them again, but it never does. He pulls back and leaves the bed, standing in front of her confused form now. Why did he stop? She didn’t want him to stop.

Her eyes follow his every move as he begins undressing, making quick work of his clothes. He has a lean, athletic body with marked V bones on his hips, which lead the girl’s gaze to the cock that is proudly erect in front of her. She hadn’t seen one since she was a kid and the servants bathed her with Daeron. His certainly didn’t look like that.

“You’re staring, wife.” chuckles Aemond, subtly reminding her of the game they played. The hand that played with her moved to stroke his manhood, jerking it a few times if only to put on a good show for her.

“I…” Aeressa starts but is unable to finish.

He is amused by her innocent yet curious demeanor. Flawless… Legs spread for him, dress pooled at her waist, breasts out just for him to ogle at. She half sits up, supported by her elbows on the bed, waiting with the most perfect expression for him to do with her as he pleases.

“Now, this might hurt a bit, but I need you to be brave. I promise it'll feel good once the pain dulls.” says Aemond, climbing on top of her again. She lets him, even if in her face she wears some shade of apprehension at the mention of pain.

Kissing her mouth as a distraction tactic, he begins aligning himself with her center and pushes in slowly. It is too late now. Too late. Tears sting on the corners of Aeressa's eyes, which she closes tightly shut, her face contorts itself into a pained grimace, and he can hear a whimper from her, but it's well past the point of stopping. He is inside her, trying to force himself further, squeezed by her insides. She is tight and hot and it might just be too much. He presses his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses touching, their breaths mixing as the two try to keep their composure.

Beneath him, Aemond can tell his sister is crying. Is he being too rough? He could swear… He is trying so hard to be good for her, to go slow.

“Brother?” she asks, grabbing at his arm like he might keep her afloat.

“What is it, my love?”

“When will it start to feel good?”

The prince can't help but smile at her words. She is trying to be brave for him, just like he's trying to be good for her. So adorable it hurts. With tenderness, he kisses her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her cheeks, and, finally, her mouth. “Soon, my sweet. Very soon.” She looks up at him through wet eyelashes like she so badly wants to believe his words. “You are doing so well, baby. You're such a good girl for me.”

He moves inside her, slow like he believes that maybe if he goes slow enough, she might not feel the pain of the stretch or the breaking of her hymen. A cry from the girl proves his hopes wrong, and he attempts at remedying it by cooing sweetly at her.

“No, don't cry… You're a big girl, aren't you? You've been doing so good!” says the man, cupping her cheek and caressing her face.

“It hurts, brother!”

“I know, I know…” He kisses her teary eyes, salt on his lips. “But you can take it. I know you can. Look—” he nods towards where they are joined, her pussy having swallowed all of him. “You did it. You're such a good girl, such a sweet baby… Such a perfect cocksleeve.”

She looks up at him with violet orbs big as the moon. She didn't think she could do it, but she did it! Isn't it amazing? “And you're proud of me, sir?”

He smiles. “So proud.”

Aeressa laces one arm through his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. She kisses him, sweetly, so adoringly, and only pulls back to wince when he starts moving again.

He stops immediately and asks, worried as a dutiful brother “Do you need more time to adjust? Is this okay, sister?”

She bites her lower lip so strongly she might draw blood, but nods. “Yes… Yes, it's alright. Please, move.”

So he does. Slow, excruciatingly slow. It takes all of his self-control to keep himself from ramming into her. Everything about how she feels around him is perfect, and he just wants to make the most of the sensation. But he loves her, he has to remember that - that she is to be loved, not fucked. Slowly, very slowly, he goes in and out of her, one eye studying her every squirm, examining the signs her body gives. Slowly, her whimpers give way to soft moans, and, with patience and shows of affection, Aemond is capable of extracting from the young princess encouragement to move faster. So he does.

Aeressa is squirming under him, large breasts bouncing softly with the movement. She pinches her nipples, runs her nails through her white skin, and does as he had done before, chasing after the heat the actions spark in her belly. It feels so different, to be full, but the more the pain subdues, the more she enjoys it, and begins to dread the moment her brother bottoms out of her, leaving her empty. Thankfully, it's only for a short moment before he fills her again. "Faster, please!" asks her, guided by an instinct that says a quicker pace would be more pleasant.

Aemond is enthralled by the vision before him, one he only dared dream of. She is angelical, perfect, pierced by him, belonging only to one man now and forever. He smirks and leans forward to suck in a hickey on the pale pulse point of her neck, hips snapping against hers. Every bruise he leaves on her body is a work of art and a show of passion, a sign of ownership he will not let Aegon question. King-to-be or not, he lost this match, and with this victory under his belt, the younger prince finds that he does not mind losing the war all that much. He kisses his sister’s mouth with a pure mix of love and lust. “It feels so good! I might go insane!” the girl whimpers against his lips, prompting his hips to go harder.

“You’re doing amazing, Aeressa.” he smiles at her, sole eye taking in the beauty of her reactions, the perfect ‘O’ of her lips, the hitch of her breath. Aemond finds that she likes it fast, but it is when he goes hard that she gasps and cries out his name. “Such a perfect little bitch.” He cups her cheek with one hand, the other next to her head, holding his weight on top of her. He keeps praising her, locking onto her amethyst eyes, knowing it to be the way to her heart. “Such a good girl for me. The best hole in the Realm.”

She can feel it, how every word has her clenching around him, how every thrust gets the band in her belly to stretch further, closer to snapping. The princess is completely lost in the feeling, cockdrunk. Her brother searches for her, but there are no thoughts behind her pupils, only a thirst for release. Aeressa is vocal in bed, loud, and forgotten of consequences. She cries multiple “sir!”s and “brother!”s, gripping hard at her partner’s forearms. He can only chuckle at how gone she is, and give her his thumb to suck on.

Without waiting for more encouragement, Aemond sets a pace that is passionate and quick, almost wild, and has his sister screaming to the Seven Winds. He can’t deny he’s getting close. Gods, he’s getting close. Decided to extract one orgasm from the princess before giving in to his own, he retracts the hand that cupped her face to have it play with her clit, the spit-covered thumb slick as it circles her button. It earns a loud moan from the girl under him.

“Good girl, such a good girl!” he groans, hips snapping.

Her walls clench around his cock. He can’t help but imagine her womb thirsty, ready to receive all of him.

“Aemond, I-” the princess gasps.

“It’s alright, let it go. Let it go for me.” His thumb speeds up on her clit. She flutters, legs shaking, chest heaving, and the coil deep in her stomach snaps in fevering euphoria. Aeressa reaches up to press her brother’s lips to hers, the kiss marked by gasps and delirious moaning.

The prince bottoms in and out her with passion, now chasing only his high, which approaches at rapid speed. With a grunt, he cums inside his little sister, whole body clenching. He fucks her shallowly through his orgasm, pushing his seed deeper.

Both out of breath and absolutely spent, the siblings eye each other. Aemond’s senses return, making him wonder “what the actual fuck.” as he pushes out of her and lays down by her side. Before he can linger on the guilt of ruining the princess, she curls up on his chest, sweat sticking their bodies together. He wraps an arm around her and tucks his chin on the top of her head.

“Was that good, husband?”

He can’t lie to her, or to himself. “That was fucking amazing.”

#bunnie writes #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond fic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aemond targeryan smut

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angrelysimpping · 6 months ago

Text

Solitary pt 2

Yes, hello, I continue to be totally normal for 💜@rotting-ink ‘s💜 game, mhm mhm

Continuation of this

AMAB Aguilar (he/him); GN Witch/Reader (you/your); Other Prisoner/Other Origin Character (they/them)

Contents: noncon; past noncon; dubcon; DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT; fake consent; oral, reader giving; oral, reader receiving; penetrative sex, reader receiving; fingering, reader receiving; cum eating; demon contracts; power imbalances; group sex; multiple partners; co-dependence; prison sex; talked about: somno, mindbreak, choking; virginity loss

Words: 5124

How long had you been kept in solitary now? At least a few days but surly not a full week yet.

It helped that you weren't truly alone. Aguilar had thrown you in here with another prisoner.

Still, it was hell on earth. When you weren't being abused by the prison guard, you were forced to watch him have his way with the other prisoner. Or, worse still, he'd have you to ‘play’ together. Then he’d sit back, eyes burning into your skin as he watched and idly stroked himself until he got bored, grabbing one of you to ‘relieve’ himself.

You'd consider them a friend at this point, even if they refused to tell you their name, or to hear yours. They'd tried to explain it to you, once, how it'd make things too real for them, but they'd stumbled over their words, voice horse from having their throat fucked raw.

It wasn't getting better. Nothing was. Every time Aguilar visited, he'd find some new way to break you both, and you could see it wearing your friend down. They'd never been a fighter, always meekly submitting to Aguilar's commands in the hopes that doing so would mean they'd earn less of the guard's ‘attentions.’ It never worked. Nothing worked. Not fighting and not submitting. It was truly useless.

And now, they were somehow…less. Not just their body, thinning day by day on the watery gruel the prison allowed you. But less…themself. Their eyes would go blank as Aguilar manhandled them, yet tears would still streak down their cheeks.

It…it’s more than disturbing to witness and more than once you've wondered what would have happened if they weren't here. Not only because Aguilar's full attention would have fallen on you, but also because, in a way, they were keeping you together. If it wasn't for trying to keep a strong front for them, you're sure you would've shattered by now. Would have become nothing more than an obedient pet, a broken toy, a shell of the person you were.

You were being eroded, will ground down into nothingness. You both were. Having each other slowed the process, if ever so slightly.

It's that thought that gives you the idea.

He'd said it, once. Unnerving pale eyes piercing you as he'd laughed, talked about breaking you. Said how he wanted you to grind against each other while begging for his cock. The idea still makes your skin crawl, but…

They agree to it. That's all you needed. Besides, you quite like them. They're familiar to you, after this shared nightmare. It even feels…right, almost, when your mouth meets theirs.

It breaks your heart a little how they kiss now, licking into your mouth with an eagerness. You'd been their first kiss, shared in a stolen moment of comfort. They'd been awkward, hesitant and shy as they tried to mimic how your mouth moved. Now, they kiss you the way he likes it, desperate and messy.

Yet, they slow down, seeming to relax as you press them back against the thin cot you shared. It made a slow warmth spread through you, their arms lazily draped over your shoulders as you kissed down their jaw. They knew you, knew what they had to do, and they trusted you. They trusted you to help them, to touch them.

It's all for show. That's it. Aguilar never lets you go too long without his torments. He'll show up soon and if you want to make this work, you have to look like you were both finally giving in. Just a trick, a way to make him let his guard down.

But, their leg hooks around your waist, pulling you down so your body is pressed to theirs. Hips rolling up, they grind against you, making your breath hitch.

You want to jerk back, to stop them. Remind them what this is, only an illusion. You don't. You can’t. Pressing a kiss to their throat, you sigh against their skin, “We don't have to actually-”

They cut you off, “But we could.” They grind against you again, sparks of pleasure alighting down your spine. “We could feel good for a little bit, together.”

It's a point they don't need to argue. You're more than willing to have your mind taken off the horrible situation you're in. Instead of answering them, you slot a knee between their thighs and press up against their groin. They groan, a small sound you've never heard from them before. Pleasure. Plain and simple. Not painted around the edges of pain and humiliation. Not buried in self hatred and guilt. No, not a speck of hurt. Just pleasure.

You want to hear more.

Hands gliding over their sides, they shiver at the gentle touch, a breathy laugh sliding past their lips. The prison tunic they wear is more a rag than clothing at this point, having had it torn from their body so many times. Still, you hesitate as you finger the hem.

“Is this okay?”

They respond by gripping the collar of their shirt, starting to pull off the tunic themself and you can't help but laugh. It's a light sound, unheard of in these walls. A noise you never thought you’d make again.

You help them pull the tunic off, pressing a quick kiss to their cheek that travels down. Lips brush over their collar bone, press against their sternum, humming against their skin. They shiver, and you can’t help but remember that, before all of this, they were a virgin. Had they been totally inexperienced? Was this their first time with how these intimate moments could actually be? Gentle and soft? You want to shove the thought out of your head, but you can’t. You don’t want to cause them more pain in any way, not right now. You don’t want to be like him.

Carefully, you find a tender nipple, giving the often bit bud a delicate kiss. “Tell me if anything hurts?”

They make a small sound in agreement, nodding slightly, their eyes soft as they gaze down at you.

You take your time, keeping your knee pressed against their groin as you slowly map out their body. Hands travel over their chest, their stomach, their sides. You’ve seen each other stripped of clothing countless times now, but this is different. This is safe. Of course, they’re littered with bruises and bites. You’re sure your body bears the same marks. Aguilar seemed to delight in biting, marking, but he had his favorites. Chests, stomachs.

Nipples. Even as you try to force him from your mind, you have to stay aware of the ways he’s hurt you both.

Their nipples look raw, almost. Bruised. You can’t find out if they’d like them touched, if they’d gasp if you sucked one into your mouth. Maybe later, if there ever is a later, you’ll get to find that out. As it is, you give each bud a kiss before making your way down.

In a way, you want to erase the past. Who wouldn’t, with what you’ve experienced? Each bruise and healing bite you find as you move down their stomach, you kiss. A weak effort to replace the wickedness done to them, yet it’s the only thing you can do. A baptism of sorts, along their ribs, over the curve of hip, the dip of belly button.

You pause again when you reach the fabric of their trousers. They seem to intuit your hesitancy, quickly shucking off the ripped garment before you can even ask their permission.

Even as warmth spreads through you, your heart aches. Their thighs are a mess. More bruises and bites, now punctuated with the crescent moons of nails that had dug into their skin, pierced the delicate flesh and drew blood. You don’t hesitate, pressing a kiss to each injury you find while your hand cups their sex. They arch into your touch, small gasps sliding past their lips.

You’re not trying to heal yourself with these acts, each second of warm skin under your lips feels like a soothing balm to your own nerves. You can only hope it’s the same for them.

As you kiss, you toy with their sex, movements almost lazy. They squirm against you, breathing getting louder in the small room before their warm, soft hand finds the back of your head. Looking up at them, your heart thuds painfully in your chest. Their face is hot, eyes hazy and lips parted as they pant.

“Can…can you?” Stumbling over their own words, their nails dig into the back of your scalp as they frown, more of a pout than anything, brows knitting together. They try to find how to articulate their desires before giving up with a low whine, licking their lips before shooting you a pleading look and whispering a soft “Please?”

You think you know what they're asking for, and you're more than happy to oblige.

Your mouth replaces the hand on their groin.

With all the harshness you've both endured in this cell, you opt to take your time. Each lick slow and pointed, wanting to give them the attention they truly deserved, to taste every part of them at a leisurely pace. Tongue swirling around them, they mewl, a soft, sweet sound that sends a bolt of warmth shooting through you to pool between your thighs.

Their essence spreads over your tongue like honey, the grip on the back of your head growing tighter as they try to keep from bucking into your mouth. Head growing fuzzy from the intoxicating mixture that was their taste, their voice, their touch, you dip down to lap at their hole.

You can’t help but smile as they jerk against you. They mutter something under their breath, something that sounds suspiciously like another plea. You lick back up from their hole slowly, tongue trailing along their slit, collecting their precum. Lips seal around their tip, you suck idly and they moan low in the back of their throat, arching off the bed. Then, you delve back down, feasting upon them, licking into their hole as if possessed.

They squeal. Control snapping, they rut against your face, legs trembling as your tongue twists into them. The only thing that keeps their thighs from clamping around your head, crushing you in a way you’re sure would be beyond bliss, is your gentle, yet firm grip. Even though you can visibly see them losing weight due to this place; plush, warm skin spills between your fingers as you hold them back. You want to smile, to laugh, but you fight the urge. It'd break the spell they're under, you think, if you had to pause now, if you didn't keep lapping at their soft hole.

Of course, Aguilar doesn't care about any of that as he rips you away from them, off the bed, collar of your shirt digging sharply into your throat and nearly strangling you with his force.

“Don't think I remember saying you could play without me?” His voice is low, dangerous, pale eyes flashing as he stares you down.

For a moment, you don't remember your plan. You don't remember that this all started as a way to make this wretched prison guard think he'd succeeded in breaking you, turning you both into nothing but mindless toys, in hopes of getting him to let his guard down. All you can think of is launching yourself at him, ripping at his face, biting at his throat, screaming and tearing and acting like the savage animal that you'd been accused of being when they'd thrown you into this hell on earth, even if it meant getting beat within an inch of your life.

And you would. You know you're not stronger than him. You'd end up with blood filling your mouth and his cock forced into your dry hole, but it'd be worth it.

He sees it. He sees the rage in your eyes. Gripping your chin, rough fingers burning where they meet your skin, he squeezes until your bones groan, forcing you to keep eye contact as he growls, “What do you think you're doing?” Venom drips from his words, sliding over your skin and curling around your spine.

A small sound from the bed drags his attention from you. There they are, your friend. They're propped up on their elbows, legs still splayed open yet the soft look in their eyes is gone, replaced with a hard nervousness. “W-we missed you.” Their voice is small, thin. You almost can't hear it over the adrenaline pumping through you, but you do. And the plan comes back to you. Your own plan that you'd just about thrown away.

Could the fury in your eyes have been mistaken for lust? The tension in your body interpreted as restrained desire? You can only hope.

With the way you've already put the plan in jeopardy, you take a risk. You reach out, touching Aguilar. Some part of you thinks that touching him like this, fingers gently splayed along his jaw, should hurt. That his skin against yours should burn and spark and smolder. Yet, it doesn’t. For the monster he acts, he is, somehow, human. For the unaware, it might even look like a lover’s touch as you softly guide the guard to look away from the bed, to face you instead.

“We missed you” you echo, “...Sir.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. His unnerving eyes bore into yours as you try to keep from giving away your true feelings, steeling yourself for what you have to do next.

You kiss him.

His tongue invades your mouth immediately, and you have to fight back the urge to choke, to try to push him or squirm away. You try to picture someone else, anyone else, even as your free hand goes to his deceptively soft, cropped, brown hair, pulling him closer still.

He’s still kissing you as he sits on the bed. For a moment, panic blares through your body, every nerve alight as he pulls you into his lap. That panic is soothed as your friend joins you, body pressed to yours, their chest to your back, and murmuring encouragement against your skin.

They’re a breath of fresh air amongst the suffocation that is being held by Aguilar. It’s too much. His tongue down your throat. His hands roaming your body, pulling at your clothes, your shirt up, over your head, your trousers down until you had to squirm out of them lest they were torn to shreds. His cock tenting his trousers and pressing against you. Without them, their mouth on your neck, voice in your ears, you wouldn’t be able to do this. You wouldn’t be able to fake desire, or to undo his trousers. Wouldn’t be able to palm his cock, jerk him off, working him until he was fully erect, grinding yourself against him as if you actually wanted this.

You would break down, if it wasn’t for their hands over yours and helping you work his thick cock, their free hand sliding over your skin, fingers gently prodding at your hole before sliding inside. Aguilar swallows the gasp that leaves you as you’re fingered open. This isn’t the first time you’ve been fucked in this cell, yet this is different. Even as you wrap your arms around Agular’s broad shoulders, cling to him as he all but tongue fucks your throat, this is different. This is them, your friend. Their fingers curling inside you almost experimentally, touch soft and warm. Affectionate. They dip down, pressing kisses to your shoulder blades, your spine, before you feel the wet muscle of their tongue swipe over your hole.

Shuddering, you break the kiss. Aguilar lets out a low chuckle, his mouth free to roam, teeth dragging over your skin and nipping at fading bruises. Yet, you don’t regret it. You groan low, deep in the back of your throat. Head lolling forward, you let your brow rest on Aguilar’s shoulder as you shift your weight to your knees, giving them better access to your hole.

Each lick is slow, cautious. This is the first time they’ve ever really got to take their time when doing something like this. With Aguilar, it was never slow. He’d fuck your throat, your knees on the cold, hard ground and hand on the back of your head, nails digging into your scalp, keeping you from even thinking from moving back. Or, he’d command one of you to lick at the other's hole to get them ready for his cock. He never gave you enough time, and you’d both rush to try to get the other as prepared as possible. This wasn't one of those frenzied, fear fueled moments.

Despite it all, you’re aroused. You’re actually aroused right now: full of desire and want; tension building inside you, craving a release; precum starting to bead along your slit; and it’s because of them.

Heat flutters in the pit of your stomach, and it can’t be quelled by Aguilar’s presence. Even with his teeth in your skin, with his scent filling your lungs, his cock hot and heavy in your hand: he can’t ruin this.

Their fingers slide over your sex, collecting precum before slipping back inside your hole. Scissoring their fingers, they stretch you out. Their tongue slips into you, and a tiny whine slips from your lips. You can feel the rumble of Aguilar’s laugh at the pathetic sound, something you’re sure you’ve never made before in this room. It makes you falter, hand pausing in stoking Aguilar’s cock.

“Getting distracted by your friend, pretty thing?” He coos, voice thick, syrupy and full of rot as you struggle to remain focused. “Finally learned how to use their sweet tongue, huh?” His voice is nearly a purr, one that grates against your bones. “You help them with that? Practicing for me?”

You want to kiss him again, purely so you have the chance to bite his tongue right out of his mouth. As it is, you just nod weakly, feeding into the lie. Rolling the pad of your thumb over his tip, you collect the thick precum leaking from his slit. You resume moving your hand, now slicked up even more with his own fluids. Even though you want this over with as quickly as possible, it’ll go easier this way.

Yet, it’s still all too soon before he’s shoving your friend away, guiding his cock to your entrance. You don't let him bully the thing into you, instead sinking down his length yourself even as it forces the air from your lungs in a harsh gasp. The grin he gives you makes your stomach twist, hands on your hips giving you an almost teasing squeeze before you start to move.

In this cell, there are no first. You’ve ridden him before. It’s one of his favorite things to do, force you to fuck yourself on his cock. He seemed to enjoy it more when you struggled. When your friend, inexperienced as they were in sexual matters, ended up collapsing against him, thighs shaking and unable to support their own weight? He’d laughed, grabbed their hips hard enough to bruise before fucking up into them. When your body ached from the abuse he’d just put you through and left you too exhausted to ride him properly? He’d teased that he was just too big, that you’d forgotten how to be a good toy, before lifting you up and dropping you on his cock until you’d made yourself move again to avoid the organ bruising treatment.

With how many times you’ve had to ride him, bounce yourself on his cock until he filled you up and tossed you aside, you still struggle to find a rhythm. Infuriatingly, it was partially because he was right. He was big, pressing against your insides in ways you hated. That is, ways that were pleasurable. You didn’t want him to bring you pleasure, didn’t want to cum on his cock, yet trying to angle yourself so his dick wouldn’t hit those spots inside you seemed impossible. But, also, you were weak. Kept in this cell, fed poor food. It was all designed to keep you from trying to escape but had the added detriment of leaving you sapped of strength. And it was strength you needed to move yourself in any way that would make this horrid situation end.

Aguilar doesn’t mind, though. Smug grin stretched across his face as those eyes you loathed took in your struggles. No, he seems content to watch you. Or, almost content.

His eyes leave you, and he reaches out to the other prisoner, beckoning them closer. “Come here.” It’s a command they could only obey.

The moment they’re within reach, he grabs them, yanking them into a bruising kiss. You swear you can hear their teeth click against his with the force of his kiss. His hand snakes between their legs, toying with their sex before searching out their hole. They yelp into his mouth as two fingers are thrust into them without warning, and he breaks the kiss with a laugh. “Fuck yourself on my fingers and pretend it’s my cock, sweetheart.” The way he says ‘sweetheart’ makes your skin prickle, bile rising in your throat.

Without thinking, you cup his face in your hands.

You see the anger flash in his eyes as you turn him towards you, but you try your best to distract him, to keep him from tormenting them.

“P-Please,” you gasp, chagrined by how you stutter when the fat head of his cock hits a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. But, it helps with what you want, so you let out a breathy sigh, hoping he can’t tell how much of what you’re doing is a performance, a lie. Leaning in closer to his face, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Please, Sir. Don’t look a-away.” You feel his lips twitch into a smile under yours. His cock drags against your insides, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. With another half faked, low whine, you prepare yourself to have to endure his gaze. You lean back, stomach twisting as you look into pale eyes. “Please?”

“Aw,” he coos, leaning in to recapture the space you'd created, lips brushing against your as he speaks. “Desperate for attention now, pretty?”

You hate yourself, but you nod. “Y-Yes.”

“Yes,’ what?” There’s a teasing lit in his voice that’s made vile by the mocking light in his eyes.

“Yes, S-Sir.”

He laughs, the same cold, malicious laugh he always gave.

It's hard, with him watching you. Before ever entering this cell, you would try to keep his eyes from landing on you. A predatory gaze that made every nerve in your body light up, screaming at you to run and hide or bare your teeth and fight. Now, you can do neither. You keep holding his face, humping his cock, hoping to get him off before he loses interest and returns to torturing your friend.

Your friend…who’s riding his fingers right next to you. You can’t help it as your eyes drift towards them. The way their muscles flex as they move, the sounds that escape them as the squirm on thick, cruel fingers. Their hole, stretched open, sloppy and lewd noises created with each cant of their hips. And their mouth. Lips parted, panting, chest heaving. Their eyes meet yours and for a moment, it feels like just the two of you again.

It’s not a conscious thought. You reach out to them, and they arch into your touch. You don’t even have to guide them to your mouth as they lean in, capturing your lips with theirs. They moan, low and sweet, into your mouth, shuddering on Aguilar’s fingers as they cum. You can just hear the guard swear under his breath as his cock twitches harshly inside you.

You’re jerked out of your daze as Aguilar fingers your sex, the same fingers that your friend had been humping only moments ago. Hips stuttering, your orgasm crashes over you abruptly. There's no dignity left to throw away, so you press your forehead to his shoulder as your body clenches around him. His fingers keep crudely toying with you, the hand on your hip squeezing hard enough to bruise, as he starts to fuck into your twitching body.

When he finally cums, you have to fight from breathing a sigh of relief. Yet, the ordeal isn’t over.

Aguilar rolls from his sitting position on the cot, pinning you underneath him and dragging your friend to lay next to you. Idly, you wonder if the cot could take the weight of three people, how it managed to remain standing though this new round of abuse, as he slides out of you. The thought is chased from your head as a hand swipes down your front, over your sex, and fingers press into your sore hole. You gasp, arching off the bed on instinct as those calloused fingers curl inside you.

There’s no time to fully process what's happening before the fingers retreat. Aguilar holds his hand out to the other prisoner expectantly, digits glistening with a mixture of your cum and his. Obediently, they lean in, taking his fingers into their mouth.

Something in your brain fizzles at the sight. Their lips wrapped around his fingers, down to the third knuckle. Their eyes lock on yours before sliding closed and humming as if having a delicious treat. They pull back slow, pink tongue flicking out to lick the tips of his fingers.

He grips the back of their head, pulling them into a messy, open mouthed kiss. Even if you could look away, you don’t, watching as their tongues intertwined.

So entranced, you don’t realize the hand swiping back over your body until those achingly probing fingers are delving you again. You’re more prepared for it this time, though, biting your bottom lip and only squirming a little as your abused hole is invaded yet again.

This time, his hand is offered to you.

You mirror what your friend did before you, taking his fingers into your mouth. Tongue swirling over the digits, you clean them of the mixed fluids. Once he pulls his fingers from your mouth, you’re treated to the same kiss. It’s nauseating, kissing this man, but you let him, trying to act as if you want him.

Finally, when he’s done, he stands. You both stay on the cot as he fixes himself. The smile he gives you is almost drunk off your combined submission before he swaggers from his cell.

And now, the moment of truth. If this fails, you might find another way to make the plan work. To maybe move to a better cell, though your loath to leave your friend now. Maybe make him think it’d be okay to keep the key on him, or maybe even lure him into spending the night stretched out between you on the cramped cot.

A shudder wracks your body at the thought, sleeping next to Aguilar. You’re sure you’d wake up with his cock rutting between your thighs, hands gripping your hips, bruises blooming across your skin as he kept your legs pressed together to create pressure on his dick. If he didn’t just wake you up by fucking into your hole, fingers in your mouth to keep you from crying out too loud and an arm around your throat to subdue any half awake urge to fight.

And what would happen to your fellow prisoner, your friend? You don’t want to think about it, but your brain doesn’t listen. The thought of waking to them getting violated makes your soul ache. Aguilar manhandling them until they were sitting on his face, forcing them to suck him off as they ate them out until they cried. Or worse, making them lay against you, fucking into them as they shuddered and sobbed into your chest. Holding them while having to touch him, having to continue the charade that you both wanted him.

No. No, you can’t wait. Not any more, not any longer. This had to work. If this didn’t work, if there wasn’t some give, you’d crumble. You can feel it, the fringes of your soul fraying, threads ready to unravel at the slightest tug.

As Aguilar leaves, you hear it.

The cell door latches.

Heart sinking, you slide from the bed, crawl across the cold floor. Sitting back on your heels, you look up at the handle. The dark of the room feels heavy, oppressive and thick. If you didn't know any better, you'd think there was another person in the small cell with you. Closing your eyes, you lean forward against the worn wood.

“Please,” you mutter, “let this work. I'll do anything. Give anything. Please.”

“Both of us,” their voice says from the cot. You start, unaware they could hear you. When you look over your shoulder, they're staring at the darkness in front of you. “Both of us will.”

Waiting until you can no longer hear his footsteps, you reach up, trying the handle.

It’s ice cold, burning against your skin. And solid, refusing to unlatch, for Aguilar to have not locked it properly in his overconfident, cocky state. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you will it to move. “Anything,” you repeat to the door, to the darkness, to whatever would listen to your despair. “Everything.” You try to open the door again.

The knob turns in your hand.

You don’t dare question it, urging your friend up from the bed. Dressing in a hurry, hands shaking, you almost can’t believe what’s happening. But, you don’t care, either.

It’s happening. Despite the slim probability, the plan worked. Or, something worked. The door was unlocked and you’re able to slip out. Together, you make your way through the prison. It’s almost too easy, as if something is helping you along the way. But, you won’t look too hard at gift like this.

Out, free from the prison, in the cool night air, you laugh, hugging your friend as they finally, finally, mutter their name in your ear. Spinning them around, you tell them your name in turn, before giving them a quick kiss.

Everything feels right in the world as they pull you against them, making the kiss last longer, deeper. Right, even if you do think, for a moment, a pair of silver eyes watch you while something that feels like power swelling inside you.

You'll have time to figure everything out. You both will. Together.

#the rot of witchwood #aguilar the prison guard #mortmain mc #buchanan mc #tw noncon #cw noncon #tw dead dove #cw dead dove #tw multiple partners #cw multiple partners #tw angst #cw angst

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