#Seems cheap but I couldn't think of a team for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

violetrainbow412-blog · 6 months ago

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From hate to love… or something like that

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 15.7k (sorrrryyyy)

warnings: arranged marriage, hate-to-love, mentions of rape, mentions of incest, mentions of suicidal thoughts, drinking alcohol, mommy issues, daddy issues, mentions of sex without love, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), porn with plot (but something cheap, tbh) and I probably forgot something but I think that makes it clear that this shit is not for minors, so MINORS DNI :)

A/N: I started this since the second season premiere started so if you find any canon-like scenes I completely promise it wasn't intentional. I also want to make it clear that you are responsible for what you read and if you don't like something please just let it go, that would be very kind of you!

And this doesn't make me team green at all, I'm a defender of the rightful queen to the death… it's just that her brother is too sexy to ignore 🫦

Enjoy!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @barcelonaloverf1life @ilovequeen978

FIRST ACT: HATE

Finding a wife for Prince Aegon II was probably one of the most difficult tasks Alicent Hightower had to face.

The engagement with his sister Helaena had been broken after a more tempting offer for the princess, which would get them a permanent alliance with the Lannister house that they couldn’t refuse. Viserys himself had agreed to accept and the queen consort had no choice but to give her little daughter in marriage to a blonde lord. The problem was that her son was left without a fiancée.

Aemond didn't worry her, after all he was growing up quite quickly and she knew that he was more inclined to become a warrior than to fulfill his marital responsibilities. But Aegon, however, was a lost cause.

It was no secret that Alicent had always felt disappointed in her eldest son. He was careless, lazy, and a hopeless alcoholic, qualities that couldn’t be celebrated at all. Now that her beloved father had returned, the queen didn’t hesitate to consult him on the matter, hoping that the man had a solution for the problem that afflicted her, and together they analyzed what was the best option to unite the king's first-born son. Especially after, years ago, Rhaenyra and Daemon got married and moved to Dragonstone indefinitely.

“It must be someone we completely trust, someone who cannot dare to hurt us because they know that their blood is linked to ours.”

The Arryns were loyal to the future queen Rhaenyra and some of the houses south of Vale were too. The Westerlands was the richest section of the Seven Kingdoms and was already secured, so it seemed prudent to the king's hand to go for the next widest section: The Reach. The most formidable options within this area were the Hightower and the Tyrell. Obviously taking the first option would be a waste since the members of that house would support Aegon without complaint due to their kinship, so the decision was made with the direct heir of Highgarden.

King Viserys agreed to the idea without putting up many obstacles, since poppy milk clouded his judgment most of the time and also the affairs of his first son had never interested him much.

The union was sealed as soon as the deal was offered to Lyonel Tyrell, who was extremely happy to be able to assure his family a future with said marriage. It was thus that he gave you, his only daughter, to Prince Aegon II Targaryen.

And the second the boy saw you, he absolutely hated you.

He had come to the idea (very unpleasant, by the way) of marrying his younger sister and now that his mother was forcing him to marry a complete stranger, he couldn't be angrier. In a short time he would turn twenty and it seemed pathetic to him that at that point he would have to offer shows like those before the kingdom. Because the wedding wasn’t simple, of course, but thousands and thousands of guests were present at the banquet that Alicent forced the king to prepare, claiming by saying that he had done the same for Princess Rhaenyra's wedding.

“It is a pleasure to finally see each other, your grace. They have told me a lot about you”

You had said those precise words the first time you had met, when his mother organized a walk so that you could 'get to know each other better', although supervised by her own eyes that were behind you, making sure that her son didn’t commit any indecency. But no matter how sweetly you smiled and spoke them, Aegon could sense that you were lying.

There was hatred in your eyes and a clear resentment towards the life from which you were torn, as if it weren’t an honor to have the opportunity to marry the prince of the seven kingdoms. Your hypocritical words represented an insult to the boy and that is why he decided from the first moment that he would hate you deeply.

With your mere existence you would have deprived him of his freedom, his entertainment, his youth. He would be tied to you for future occasions, he would have to take you to all the events, secure your food, your clothes. share the same roof and pretend to be nice to you in the eyes of others. And, besides, he could have thought of a lot of candidates better than you, physically speaking. Your beauty was quite ordinary for his taste, as if he were looking at any painting; cheap and repetitive.

“I regret to admit that I am not so fortunate, Lady Tyrell. But I am happy for the union of our houses” he lied, in the same way that you had done.

And it was obvious that this didn’t go unnoticed by you, that you had the same critical eye as your recent fiancé but that you sought to maintain composure in the presence of your future mother-in-law.

On the wedding day Aegon had a good time only because he was able to drown himself in monumental quantities of liquor and because he was able to eat as much as he wanted of the exquisite banquet. He didn't even pay a bit of attention to how you looked in the wedding dress that the royal seamstresses had been in charge of making in record time, because when the time came he flattered you superficially and then ignored the matter. The ceremony kiss was the first you shared, and it was so fleeting and awkward that the prince felt disappointed. On the wedding night he was so drunk that he didn't even look at you.

You knew that the unfortunate day would come when you would have to carnally please the young man and the simple thought of being defiled in this way caused you terror and nausea in equal parts.

It was a stranger whom you had married, of whom the only thing you knew was his noble title and name.

In the days following your marriage, unfortunately or fortunately, Aegon didn’t even speak to you. You didn't have to share a room, so it was easier for him to completely ignore you while he went about his ways.

You had to admit that the only good thing about having taken this trip was the beautiful landscapes that King's Landing offered you. Your room had a direct view of Blackwater Bay and you spent several days looking out the window at the beautiful sea. Sometimes you could watch Prince Aemond ride his dragon, and honestly, the size of the beast scared you a little. You hadn't had the chance to observe Aegon in Sunfyre yet but if he was as impressive as Vhagar, then he would be quite a sight.

A week passed, then another and another where you were nothing more than a guest in the palace. You didn't talk to anyone, you ate dinner alone, you barely saw the outside of the castle. Sometimes you went to the Sept, pretending to pray, but really just killing the endless boring hours of the day. You were somewhat lucky if you found Helaena, the most sensible and calm within the royal family, because you had pleasant conversations with her. When you met the queen it was a little more difficult, because she asked you endless questions in which you had to fake the answers. How could you be fulfilling your parenting responsibilities if the capricious prince wouldn't deign to lay a finger on you?

After a month, Alicent seemed to take matters into her own hands and forced her eldest son to take you to sleep in the same room as him. However, Aegon seemed to want to blame you for something you hadn't chosen. He never spoke to you and every time you went to bed, he would stand with his back to you as far away as possible. And as if that weren’t enough, he had explicitly ordered his guards not to allow you to leave the room unless it was in his company. It was his way of punishing you, of getting even for the complaints of his mother and grandfather regarding his lack of interest in marriage.

“My mother wants us to attend a dinner tonight” you were so unaccustomed to hearing his voice addressing you that it took you a second to process what he was telling you “I will talk to the maids to bring you a suitable dress.”

You didn't know what to say. You didn't want to go to that dinner, nor did you want to be with him, or wear one of those tight, annoying dresses. Aegon, noticing your silence, deigned to look at you and in your eyes he could see the aversion you felt for him. It was something difficult to mask and he had seen it on so many faces that it was nothing new.

“As you wish, prince.”

A bitter laugh came from your husband's throat.

“Don't be a hypocrite, for God's sake. I know you hate me as much as I hate you. Save appearances for guests, not in the chambers."

You wouldn’t have had the courage to admit out loud what his majesty had said, but you didn’t dare to contradict him either. You had to play the role of a self-sacrificing and suitable wife for the man if you wanted to keep your honor, but above all your head.

You tried, with all your might, to see some quality in Aegon that you liked so that you could treat him in a better way, which always resulted in something useless. Perhaps if he had been nicer to you, you could have known how to forgive his faults, but even that wasn’t granted to you.

The dinner was mostly family-oriented, with the guest of honor being from House Baratheon whose purpose was to discuss some political matters with the king and queen. Due to his health, Viserys didn’t usually leave his room more than necessary, however, that night the occasion warranted it.

“Lady Tyrell, how is your stay in King's Landing?”

The king had a reputation for being gentle with his guests and was the first person to ask you a personal question, so the smile you showed him was genuine.

“Very pleasant, your grace. The servants treat me as well as possible and I must admit that the views from my room are beautiful. Your dragon is impressive, Prince Aemond, by the way.”

The boy, who wasn't all that expressive, just looked at you for a moment and tilted his head down slightly.

“I'm glad you like it, princess.”

"And my son? How is our Aegon treating you?”

That question was more complicated to answer, since it required expressing a lie. Everyone present focused their attention on you, except your husband who had been staring into nothingness for a long time.

“Very well, my king. He’s a good husband and I am happy to have been able to unite our houses.”

The aforementioned snorted, incredulous at what you were saying at the table, and took a long drink from his glass of wine.

“And I hope very soon you can give us strong and beautiful heirs.”

Although that was intended as a compliment, you felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on you again.

“I wish the same. It will be an honor to serve the crown and bear the progeny of a house as formidable as yours."

The queen was pleased with your answer and for a moment felt sorry for you. She knew her son well, so deep down she knew that it wasn’t a gift from the gods to be married to him. The rest of the table looked at you curiously, wondering if you were serious, trying to be ironic, or just trying to play the good girl role.

Aegon, as expected, became intoxicated during dinner and when Queen Alicent announced that she was going to retire to sleep you thought it prudent to do the same. Your husband, however, had other wishes.

“Stay here,” he asked, his voice serious.

When he was drunk he looked you up and down, probably evaluating how worth it would be to decide to strip you naked and fuck you once and for all. Your body in the dress you were wearing looked better with a few drinks on him.

“I think it would be best to retire, my husband. This way you can stay with the men to chat and… drink”

“But I want you to stay here to keep me company,” he insisted, holding your wrist tightly “Or don't you want to please your prince?”

It wasn’t a loving request, but one for control. He wanted to have you there only to demonstrate his power over you, without paying attention to you or talking; only as an ornament.

“Aegon, enough,” Alicent interrupted, observing the scene that had begun to unfold. “Daughter, let's go to sleep. “I will accompany you”

“Fine, do whatever you want,” he spat contemptuously, abruptly releasing the wrist that was holding you. There was hatred in his eyes, but also pride.

The queen said goodbye to everyone present and then offered you her hand to take you away from there. You spent most of the way in silence, walking through the long, wide corridors of the fortress followed only by the faithful footsteps of Ser Criston Cole.

“You must be patient with him” he began to say “He is a particular man and sometimes… difficult, but I know that with your docile character you will be able to deal with his temperament.”

What did she know about your character? She didn't know you at all.

“So it shall be, Queen Alicent.”

“I understand what you are going through, dear. We both come from the same lands to endure the difficult task of accompanying a monarch. But it is our duty to carry it out with all the honor and temper worthy of our homes. Of course, I can trust that as a woman you will be able to help him fulfill another of the most important marital commitments, such as having children, to maintain the lineage and blood. For a virgin like you, Aegon may be rough, but... patience and resilience are among the best virtues. A woman in royalty must endure these things to give the best to the people.”

You had never wanted to be a princess. And just when you thought the queen was showing you compassion, you realized that she was only looking out for her interests and those of her family.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind"

She smiled and immediately left a kiss on your forehead, which could have been taken as a maternal kiss but which you didn't like at all. The longer you can postpone suffering, the better. If Aegon didn't even want to look at you, it was perfect.

That night, as soon as you touched the mattress and the silk sheets that decorated it, you began to cry until you fell asleep.

SECOND ACT: CONTROL

Time passed again and although the punishment of not leaving your room was not revoked, you found multiple activities with which to entertain yourself in the prince's absence. You filled your mornings and afternoons with reading, writing, knitting and embroidering. The nights were even more boring because most of the time your husband wasn't there either.

Rumors that you hadn’t yet consummated the marriage had spread through the halls of the palace and soon the smallfolk would murmur too. After all, the people couldn’t entertain themselves with anything more than the gossip and the plays that were going on in the poor neighborhoods, making fun of royal affairs.

You no longer even had the energy to deny those accusations and Aegon had given you the perfect opportunity by throwing you out of his room and refusing to leave the four walls of yours: if you didn't leave there, there was no way anyone would question you. And since you didn't have family inside the Keep, you didn't have any visitors either.

One night, however, your husband surprised you by entering your room. It had been days since you two had seen each other and his staggering around the room warned you that he was drunk again. You often wondered how he resisted drinking so much and the long-term effects it would have on his health, but right now your mind could only focus on the fear of what he might want in that state.

“Good night, dear,” he drawled, sounding as sarcastic as possible.

You were in your nightgown and you were carrying in your hand an old book that you had been reading and that you threw on the nightstand as soon as you saw him approaching you. You didn't have time to say or do anything else when he had already approached you in giant steps to grab you by the back of your neck and start kissing you. He was abrupt, careless, with his mouth smelling of wine and tasting even worse. You wanted to cry from helplessness.

“It's what everyone wants, isn't it?” he murmured, separating himself from you, but still holding you by the hair at the back of your neck. “A marriage arranged in a couple of days to form alliances. And that's it, my life was ruined thanks to my father wanting your stupid castle to expand his domain."

The truth is that couldn't be further from the truth. Viserys’s ambition had never been that, as he had been so little involved in the process that he simply didn’t care who his children were or were not married to. Except for Rhaenyra, of course.

Aegon continued:

"I didn’t want this. I didn't want to marry you, or anyone..."

“And you think I do?” you confronted him.

You were tired of the insult, the humiliation and him ignoring you as if you were worthless; even if that was what a husband did. And the most likely thing was that your words would be forgotten due to alcohol or that they would put an end to the wait for your suffering to begin and Aegon decided to take you once and for all.

“You have nothing to lose, prince,” you continued. “You get drunk as much as you want, you run away from your responsibilities and walk everywhere when I have to stay locked up here all day just because you want me to. I have to endure the suspicious looks of everyone because I still don't have an heir in the womb while you go and fuck your whores."

“I'm the prince and I fuck whoever I want, did you hear me?” he hissed. The grip on your hair had already begun to become painful and a few tears slipped down your cheeks “And I stop fucking whoever I want too. I'm not going to please anyone by getting you pregnant. There they will see if they come and force me to put my cock in you”

“Do you doubt that, your grace?” you exclaimed bitterly “Doubts that will force us to conceive?”

“So that's what you want? Do you want me to do it?”

“I want to go home. That is what I want. But my father used me as a bargaining chip and that's why I can't do anything."

“I'm sorry it was like that. If I had chosen my wife, I would surely have chosen someone prettier and more educated than you, but I can't do much either."

Once again, the man pushed you until your lips joined his and the same discomfort settled in you. He didn't kiss you with love, but with fury and violence to the point that you had to push him away when he bit you so hard that a trickle of blood began to come out of your lower lip. Aegon was also stained by it and with an acidic smile he ran the tip of his tongue all over his mouth to remove any traces.

Looking at you he didn't look happy, but he didn't look angry either. He just seemed fed up.

Everyone knew, or suspected, that the prince was very capable of taking sexual advantage of any woman. He had done it before with maids and prostitutes and had slept peacefully throughout that time. However, there was something about you that encouraged him not to. He didn't even think it was something about you specifically but about the situation, because he wanted to do the opposite of what he was ordered: if everyone ordered him to take you to have an heir, it automatically became an unpleasant act and at the same time that he refused.

He was hurt, not because of you but because of years and years of abuse and neglect. He didn't really know you at all, he only knew what you represented.

You were just the unlucky one who had married him.

"I hate you. I hate that you are my wife and you are not worthy of me even touching you” he snapped with disdain. You were still fighting to keep the tears inside your eyes and his vision had also blurred slightly “I wish I had never met you.”

“The feeling is mutual, your grace,” you expressed, your voice breaking. If it was an offense to the crown, you wouldn't even care anymore and if he killed you right there you wouldn't regret it too much either.

Aegon looked at you one last time before staggering back out the door without another word, closing it behind him with a loud gesture and leaving you alone in the room. The reality that you had escaped, once again, from being raped by the man fell on you like a bucket of cold water and your knees weakened until you fell to the floor.

You were hurt, tired, and defeated by the stress of the situation and the fear that had washed over you the entire time. Luckily he was gone, otherwise you didn't know if you would have endured what he had to do to you. It was better to have him busy in a brothel than to have to endure him in your bed.

You wished you could talk to someone and cry on a loved one’s shoulder, only to realize a second later that that was impossible. Aegon was your new family, now you belonged to the Targaryens and you would have to do as they wished.

Anger completely overwhelmed you to the point where you stood up from your seat and began throwing pieces of glassware all over the room, in a violent outburst at what had just happened and the way you felt. None of the guards outside your door dared to come in to check on you and soon enough you fell back to the ground, exhausted from the effort.

As you cried, perhaps for the umpteenth time since you had been married, you thought about how you would never be able to love Prince Aegon. Not even if you tried.

THIRD ACT: PAIN

After months, the inevitable arrived. The truth was that the first time you felt sorrow and anger, but the following times it became more tolerable. Not because it was better, but because you began to get used to it. Aegon didn't change his attitude towards you one bit. You indeed spent more time together, although that didn’t mean that you got along better or that you had begun to have more sympathy for each other.

The only advantage was that you had started to be friends with some people in the palace. Your sister-in-law, to begin with, as well as some of the maids who were in charge of looking after you, as they turned out to be your only company during those days. Those distractions were more than enough for you, considering the situation you were in, and they kept you sane as time went by.

Almost like a punishment from heaven, it seemed that you weren’t pregnant yet, since your biological processes seemed to continue working to the letter. That meant that, unfortunately, you would have to keep trying; when Aegon was lost enough to forget who you were and you had to stand still as a statue to let him loom over you.

You often liked to imagine what your life would have been like if you had stayed in Highgarden. Nobody knew it yet, but there you had found your first love and although it never went beyond a few kisses, you treasured the memory with particular affection. You had always wanted to marry a sweet man who loved and respected you, who would give you your place as a wife and adore you day and night; someone with whom you could feel protected, cared for, but above all happy. You thought, naively, that that boy you had met and who was nothing more than a commoner could have given you that life, but all those possibilities were nothing more than fantasies in which you tried to lock yourself in to feel less miserable with your unpleasant reality.

One night Helaena had invited you to a modest dinner in her company that you couldn't refuse, since none of your husbands were present and some time with friends could clear your mind. You didn't even know where the prince was, although it was expected that he was spending some time in the town with his friends.

“Sometimes I feel sad about our situation,” said the blonde. You were in the privacy of her chambers, not even with the maids present, so confessions like that were allowed “But I am happy that you are my friend, something that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.”

“I'm glad to talk to you too,” you smiled sincerely. “You're the best thing I've found around here.”

“My brothers aren't that bad, they're just… well, we've had a hard life. And that's why they behave like that."

“I think there is no justification for being a…” idiot, you wanted to say, but you had to remember that you were in the presence of the princess, “a person who is rude to others. But I guess that happens with royalty, right? They do what they want without consequences”

"I guess so. Kings, princes, the heirs, lords, dukes…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laughed bitterly “It's probably a masculine quality.”

You never thought your sister-in-law would have that kind of humor and to be honest, most of the time she was a comic relief for the situations you two were going through. Sometimes her prophecies scared you, especially the way she phrased them, but you wanted to think that her premonitions would never affect you directly.

When you finally got tired of chatting and the food was finished, you decided to return to your room, so you could have a peaceful night's rest. It was raining outside and thunder echoed in the distance, making the atmosphere slightly gloomy, but at the same time cooling every corner of King's landing.

The novelty of your position was no longer important enough to require you to be escorted by guards twenty-four hours a day, so you were able to slowly walk through all the corridors that led to your sanctuary. It was modest but cute, although not on the level of Aegon’s.

A man was guarding the door and you bowed your head to him to let you pass, which he did without any opposition. Once inside you got rid of your shoes and unbuttoned your corset, not caring that the room was almost in darkness; only the moonlight illuminated from the window. You took a few steps forward and squealed when you discovered that there was another person in the room, sitting at the small table with a drink in his hand. You would have started screaming for help if you hadn't noticed that said intruder had silver hair falling like a curtain over his face.

"Your grace?" you asked cautiously.

It isn’t usual for Aegon to drink in your room, as he preferred other places with more interesting company, and when you didn’t receive an answer you approached slowly. You thought that at best he had simply fallen asleep and at worst he would be dead.

At first his long, wavy hair covered your view of his face, but when he noticed your presence he raised his head and then you could see him. His features became clearer as lightning illuminated him from the outside and for a second you were horrified.

His cheek was red and a trickle of blood was dripping from his nose, however, what surprised you the most was seeing his eyes completely swollen.

“For the seven, I… I'll go call a maester”

“Don't even think about it,” he exclaimed hoarsely, seeing that you were already rushing towards the door.

Your husband didn't sound like his usual angry tone, but rather he seemed... hurt.

You thought for a second about what the appropriate reaction to the situation was. You couldn't leave the room because, in addition to the guards murmuring, it would be impolite to leave him in that state; also, where would you go? If you ignored him, he would probably take it as an insult and he had already made it clear that he didn't want to see someone who could take care of those injuries.

You hated him, it was true, but you weren't an insensitive monster either.

"Who did this to you?"

Aegon was surprised by how soft, even kind, your question sounded and the intoxication gave him some courage to answer.

“My mother and my grandfather. Mostly my mother, my grandfather rather dedicated his efforts to reminding me how useless I am”

You didn't know what to say. You never believed that the queen would be capable of hitting one of her sons like that. You didn't believe it from any mother, actually.

With some trepidation you took one of the chairs and placed it in front of him, expecting him to immediately push you away or ask you to get out of his sight. However, the prince didn't seem to have enough energy to do any of those things.

He had a lost look on his face and tears began to run down his face.

“Nothing… nothing I do pleases her. Neither to her, nor to my grandfather. All the time they are pressuring me, demanding me, yelling at me. Apparently Otto still hopes that my father will name me king, but I've never wanted that. They blame me for drinking all the time and how do they expect them not to? My father cares so little about me and my mother hates me. All his life he has hated me. She does it, my brothers… and so do you. My own wife hates me. Everyone… everyone who knows me does it”

You were silent for a moment.

There were mixed feelings inside you, because you couldn't forget the mistreatment that the man had given you during those months, nor the way he used you for his pleasure. He was right when he said you hated him. However, there was a compassionate part of you, deep down, that felt sorry for the man's state.

“And sometimes I just want to be dead. I just wish all the shit would go away and drowning in alcohol and dying would take away Alicent's problem and allow her to focus her attention on something better”

His gaze lifted and he looked at you with crystallized eyes.

“Maybe you should poison me one day. So your suffering would also end”

“Your highness, I cannot do that”

“But would you like it? Do you hate me enough to wish me dead?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly.

"Liar. You lie like everyone else. You want me dead”

You knew that saying something negative at that moment, in the state he was in, could result in him making some incoherence that you would be blamed for the next morning. So it was best to act cautiously.

“I don't think anyone wants that”

“My mother does. My father, Rhaenyra does it, and so does her stupid new husband…”

“Your grace…” you interrupted him harshly. Listening to him sink into his self-indulgence was too much to bear “You better go to sleep, don't you think? Now you're not thinking clearly, you'll feel better in the morning."

But Aegon seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to anything you had to say to him.

“I guess I just wish someone wouldn't completely detest my existence, you know?”

Aegon had done terrible things to you, of course, but seeing him at that moment made you wonder if all of this was the product of poor parenting and psychological abuse that had been perpetuated for twenty long years. You couldn't say your father loved you, not after what he had done, but at least he hadn't constantly hurt you as the man in front of you had. You knew better than anyone that hate had to be healed with empathy and for a brief moment you felt soft for him.

Once Aegon was a small child, without sins, without accumulated hatred, without evil... and apparently that frightened child hadn’t been completely buried, because it was him who cried inconsolably and saw death as a viable alternative to end that suffering. However, there is no redemption without guilt, right? You don't get to heaven without first repenting.

You stayed silent for a long time, listening to him sob, and when you gathered the courage you spoke:

“Prince, can I be honest with you?”

You had spoken in a low and benevolent voice, while you slid from your chair until you were kneeling in front of him. The boy didn't even want to take advantage of that position for a sexual act, he was simply too tired and drained to think. You placed your hands on his knees and seeing that he nodded, you continued:

“You say you wish someone wouldn't hate you, but have you ever made an effort to do so? Or have you even wondered why people feel that way about you?”

“It's something natural for them”

“I didn't feel it,” you said, honestly. You hated the idea of getting married out of obligation, but if he had been different from the beginning maybe your feelings for him would be too “And you made me feel it. With your contempt, your humiliations, your punishments…”

“If everyone thinks you're a monster, what's the point of contradicting them?”

“And then you prefer to agree with them?”

You were probably taking too many liberties with the prince, but you would never have a chance to talk to him like that again. He was vulnerable and therefore less defensive than normal.

“Every person is responsible for their actions,” you continued. “You can't change how the queen or king feels about you, but you can choose to offer something better to others. If it’s your desire that people not hate you, that won’t happen overnight just because you tell it to. It takes time, effort and above all it requires kindness. If you live regretting the concept that people have of you, without doing anything to change it, then you will live a lifetime of dissatisfaction. If you seriously want someone to feel happy about your existence then pursue that goal, don’t expect it to be granted to you as a divine work.”

A deeper cry began to well up from the man and you almost thought he would lean down for your hug. Still, he didn't.

“I don't know how to be someone else. I have always been this”

“Not always, that's for sure. Water that stagnates rots and becomes a swamp. The one that runs, on the other hand, becomes a river and flows into the ocean.”

You raised the handkerchief you always carried and, in an act of kindness that was also intended to be an offering of peace, you gently wiped the tears and dried blood from his face. Aegon squirmed as he had never experienced that kind of care.

“You just have to ask yourself: what do you choose to be?”

For an endless moment he watched you. His judgment was clouded by drunkenness, but he wondered if he wasn't hallucinating and you were simply the voice of his conscience telling him something he had never wanted to accept.

It was easier to blame others for his mistakes, to justify himself by saying that everything about him was his mother's fault and that if he behaved the way he did it was only a defense mechanism. Aegon had never thought about how his treatment of women was a direct consequence of Alicent's upbringing: if his own mother had hurt him, why wouldn't other women do the same to him? And since he was convinced that they were all going to do it, he preferred to turn them into objects that he could use for his benefit.

He was so drunk and so exhausted from all the crying he had shed that he simply pushed your hand away from his face and stood up from the chair, without saying a word. You, now standing, saw him begin to undress and the first thing you thought was that he would seek to heal his sorrows by having sex with you. However, he only got rid of the essentials and then lay on his stomach on the bed. Without any choice, you took off your clothes for the day, put on a nightgown and also lay down on the mattress to sleep.

You were sure that the next day Aegon wouldn’t remember anything and you weighed the possibility of the whole story repeating itself, in an endless and painful loop for the two of you. And if you were right, it would be a shame if you had to live like this for the rest of your days.

FOURTH ACT: REDEMPTION

“Do you know where Meryna is?” you asked one of the maids who had come in to change your bedding.

“No, your grace”

“I'm starting to get hungry and she still hasn't brought my breakfast,” you exclaimed sadly.

You had woken up a while ago and had gotten dressed to go for a walk after eating, to see if this would cheer you up a little. It had been a few days since Aegon had opened up in the privacy of your room and after that you had barely seen him, much less spoken to him. You believed that everything was due to a matter of pride or even shame for what you had witnessed and you simply didn’t give it importance, because you knew that eventually he would approach you again. You just had to wait for him to want to do it.

Almost as if by summons, the black-haired girl appeared through the door, looking agitated and embarrassed by the delay. Furthermore, she came empty-handed.

"Princess…"

“Didn't you bring breakfast?” you asked, still sounding cordial but slightly surprised.

“I'm very sorry, it's just that Prince Aegon asked me to bring the food to the royal dining room. He is waiting for you there, he told me to come and get you.”

He hadn’t mentioned requiring your presence for any breakfast and, according to you, there were no guests in the palace to accompany. The two women noticed your dismay and Meryna stood waiting for a response.

“Did he tell you why?”

“No, your grace”

"Good. Then tell him I'll be there in a moment."

You only took a few minutes to change your dress, one more suitable for being in the presence of the prince and in case there was a guest you didn't know about. There were no guards at your door so you were able to walk to the dining room by yourself and were surprised to see that only your husband was at the table. He had an expression that you interpreted as a mix of impatience and nerves.

“Oh, you finally arrived. Sit down. You, bring the princess something to drink,” he ordered a maid. He used to call you that in the presence of guests, but it was rare for him to have that courtesy when alone.

“Are we waiting for someone?”

"No. I just thought you might want to have breakfast together.”

You were already sitting next to him, and for a second you watched him with a frown. Had he hit his head somewhere or why was he acting so strange?

“Do you prefer juice or wine, your highness?

"Juice"

“And bring her some strawberries,” Aegon exclaimed.

There was something about the situation that scared you, because you imagined that he wouldn't be treating you so kindly without wanting something in return. But you were already his wife and he did whatever he wanted with you, what more could he want from you?

You looked him up and down, as if searching for some sign, but he looked completely normal. He was wearing one of those full black robes he was used to, with a golden chain with emeralds decorating the hem of his neck and a belt accentuating his figure. The dark circles in his eyes were pronounced, as always, but the look was not that of someone angry; you would even say that he looked somewhat passive, even sleepy.

While you were thinking about all that, you remembered the last conversation you had had with him. You feared that madness had finally exploded in your husband and the food you were about to eat was poisoned, as he had suggested at the time. Perhaps out of courtesy he was waiting for you to take the first bite and, trying to control the trembling in your hands, you took a portion of the cold cuts on your plate to put it in your mouth. Luckily the food didn't taste different and after seeing that the man ate it with the utmost calmness, you assumed that it didn't contain any poison either.

There was freshly baked bread, jam, some cheeses, the aforementioned cold cuts, a variety of fruits, scrambled eggs with fresh herbs and chives, as well as some stuffed buns for dessert. It was a mini banquet and as you ate it you couldn't help but wonder why this show of kindness was due.

Aegon didn't seem to have any intention of talking and you didn't try to force him, not wanting to either. The atmosphere was one of peace and tranquility, one you had not experienced since your wedding day until now, and it was a very different but strangely pleasant feeling.

It was just a couple sharing breakfast time, but for two people who come from such a broken home it felt like a totally new experience.

You continued in silence until most of the things served were finished, leaving only what wasn’t to your palate's liking or that your body was simply no longer able to ingest.

“Do you need anything else, your majesty?”

“Clear this table, we won't eat anymore,” he said to the maid, nonchalantly pointing to the leftovers you had left. Then he looked at you “Satisfied?”

"I am. Everything was delicious”

“I want us to do the same tomorrow. I will send a maid for you, so get ready soon,” he said decisively.

Then he got up from his chair, stretched a little, and left the room without saying anything else to you.

You didn't see your husband the rest of the day, but the next morning he kept his promise without fail. Although the breakfast menu was different the routine was the same and again it made you wonder what the reason for it was.

The next day he also requested your presence for breakfast and you concluded that he intended to make it a habit. For the rest of the morning you were supposed to dedicate yourself to your activities, but after a week of following that routine Aegon informed you that he had other plans for you.

“I want you to come with me for a walk.”

"To the exterior?"

"Yeah. I have training with Ser Criston but I don't wish to attend, so you will be my excuse. I'll tell him that the princess wanted to go for a walk and that I couldn't let her go alone."

He was telling you that lie almost like a childish prank and you would swear he was about to smile.

“Huh, okay. If you want it, we will”

You were still confused by his actions, because in all the time you had been there it was the first time he treated you decently. You didn't know if he was still drinking in large quantities, but at least when he went to sleep he no longer reeked of liquor in the same way. And all that week he hadn't forced you to have sex with him.

What had motivated the prince to change his way of behaving towards you?

"Do you want to go to the beach? I will order a couple of horses to be saddled for us” he exclaimed when you had already left the dining room.

You couldn't refuse to go to the bay, because in your entire life you had never seen the ocean and your curiosity was greater than any other feeling. Besides, you loved horses, and being with them might even make you feel better.

Aegon did as he told you and soon enough you were in the stable. He had ordered a beautiful white mare for you, with a silver mane the color of your husband's hair and a formidable build.

You approached to pet the animal, carefully, and tensed completely when you felt another body behind yours. Until that moment you hadn't realized how warm your husband was.

“She's pretty, right?”

His voice sounded at your ear level, as he had also reached out to touch Frostfire’s hair.

"She is"

“I guess you know how to ride,” he muttered under his breath and you let out an offended sigh.

“Of course I do. Highgarden is the heart of the chivalry of the seven kingdoms”

After saying that you turned your head just a little and met his gaze, indigo eyes with hints of lilac looking at you carefully. You could feel his breath against yours and at that closeness your cheeks had already turned red involuntarily.

He separated from you and then went to choose his horse, a black thoroughbred with beautiful braids, to get on it and ask the guards to open the door for you. You almost managed to sneak away, but Ser Criston stopped the two of you just before you could do so, claiming that he had a scheduled practice with the prince.

“I'm taking my wife to Blackwater, she hasn't had a chance to visit since her arrival.”

“But your grace, your father…”

“We will continue with training later, Ser Criston,” he said firmly.

“Will you go to Blackwater without an escort?”

“I will”

"That's impossible"

“Don't worry, I don't want to be accompanied. Just rest for now.”

“But you are the prince.”

"Exactly. I am the prince and I want my orders to be respected."

The boy was a smug son of a bitch when he put his mind to it, just like now. The man had no choice but to obey the words and then the two of you were able to leave. You could get there on foot, but Aegon had felt like riding and had wanted an alternative to quickly escape if something went wrong.

You walked along a path that still belonged to the Red Keep grounds, so there was no great danger of being attacked along the way, and you soon reached the bay. It was even more beautiful up close and as soon as you got off the mare you forgot any courtesy towards your husband, as you rushed towards the shore to watch the waves crash. Your pumps and dress were soaked when the water reached your calves, but it didn't bother you too much because you were happy for the reason.

“Have you never been to the ocean?”

“I'm afraid not, your grace. There was never any business that required me to be on the coast of The Reach and I have always lived surrounded by hills and forests. I had seen some rivers, but…”

Before you could continue your story you staggered because of a wave and to avoid falling you tried to hold on to whatever was within reach, which turned out to be the man next to you. He supported you from the elbows with his strong arms.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he laughed. For the first time in your presence, he had laughed “But we should get away from the shore. I wouldn't want to take you back to the castle all soaked”

You heeded the boy's advice and, still leaning on him, walked towards the sand. The sky was slightly cloudy, so the weather was perfect for walking around without any discomfort.

“I've never visited Highgarden, is it as impressive as rumored?” he asked, as he began to walk in the opposite direction of the Red Keep.

Although you never believed that the prince would be interested in such things, you began to talk to him about your hometown with particular emotion. You told him about his surroundings, about the castle and you also told in greater detail the gardens that once belonged to you and were full of golden roses, as was the emblem of your house.

You were surprised by how attentive the boy was to everything you had to say to him and for the first time since your arrival, you didn't feel like a stranger in your own skin. Talking about your home was like remembering a part of yourself, as if you were showing him your insides through stories of the beautiful hills where you had ridden so many times.

“Everything sounds wonderful,” he concluded. The sea breeze had already ruffled both of your hair and he took advantage of this to brush a strand out of your face “Someday I should go visit it”

“Yes, maybe you would like that” you exclaimed smiling. You had come too far and it was time to walk back, towards where you had left Frostfire and Moonshadow tied up “Your grace, may I ask you a question?”

"Yeah"

You opened your mouth to ask him why he was doing all that and why he had suddenly started showing so much interest in you. You wanted to know the reason for his unexpected kindness and his abstinence from activities that weren’t very pleasant for you. But before you could speak, you took a moment to observe him. His skin looked paler in the light outside and his silver hair waved in the wind, however, what caught your attention the most was the serene expression on his face.

Although you couldn't say that you knew Aegon, the time you had lived together had shown you that his personality was extremely challenging. If you pointed out that he was being nicer to you and questioned him about it, he would most likely revert to his old behavior towards you simply on a whim. So no, you couldn't ask him about anything or you'd ruin the minuscule part of a good relationship you had managed to build.

“I was thinking... Do you think we can one day bring golden roses to the royal gardens? Green and gold are part of your emblem too and that would beautify the place. I could take care of them, if you want.”

“That's a good idea,” he exclaimed happily. You had already turned around to return and you calculated that it must be after noon “I will order them to be brought in as soon as possible, in the hope that the hot weather at King's landing will not ruin them”

“I hope not,” you said, although a little less enthusiastic than before.

You had been lost in thought after the appearance of that question that you did not verbalize and suddenly Aegon feared that he had made some mistake. You walked a few meters in silence, until this state was unbearable for his majesty and he stopped you by holding your shoulders. You were about to ask what had happened when he pulled you against his lips, stealing your breath. It was still a rough kiss, but this time less desperate than before. His hands went down to your waist and held you to his body until there wasn’t even a centimeter of distance left, with your belly touching the heat of his stomach.

“Still no signs that you are pregnant?”

You thought that, perhaps, your answer was in that question and that the only thing the man wanted was to convince you to hurry up the matter of producing an heir.

“I'm sorry to say no. It's very unfortunate."

“We'll have to keep trying,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he wanted to downplay the matter “Mother insists on it.”

“Has your mother always been like this to you?”

"What are you talking about?"

“It's just… she seems to have everything under control all the time.”

You couldn't be further from the truth and rather than describing it that way Aegon would have said that she was controlling. She wanted to have things under control, but she couldn't and as an example was the eldest prince himself, whom she had never been able to persuade to behave the way he did.

“Well, she is the queen. I guess that's how she must be” he exclaimed without much encouragement. He was still holding you by the waist and was surprised by how intimate that position was. “But we better get back, they must be wondering where we are”

“Maybe they even think I ran away, taking advantage of the fact that you weren't there to watch me,” you joked.

"Would you do it?"

"Do what?"

“Run away”

You looked at the man, incredulous, because it was stupid to think that if you were planning to run away you would just tell him like that. That was the characteristic of it, that it was surprising and hidden.

“Why would I do, your grace?”

“Maybe because I'm a bad husband,” he said quietly. You weren't understanding the game Aegon was playing and it was driving you crazy.

“I wouldn't dare do it. I have nowhere to go and I know I couldn't even get through the doors without your majesty noticing,” you replied.

The prince didn’t want pragmatic reasons like that, but rather his question was more aimed at whether it was your will to abandon him.

Against all odds a couple of raindrops began to fall and very soon a storm had already brewed over your head. It was useless to run, but you did it anyway and Aegon held your hand to prevent either of you from falling due to a trip. Somewhere along the way you lost one of your pumps and at this you began to laugh and he, infected by your joy, did the same. It amused you greatly to think of the face the queen would make when she saw you enter the castle, with her eldest son soaked from head to toe and your clothing incomplete. But you also laughed from the joy of feeling so alive in that moment. You felt like a girl playing in the rain and despite the coldness of the falling water, you felt a certain warmth traveling from the tips of your fingers to your chest.

Although he was sure that you were an excellent rider, your husband insisted on taking you on his own horse to avoid any accidents and you agreed without complaint. His body sheltered you all the way to the Red Keep and once there, under the roof, he helped you down from the chair with extreme care. You didn't think he was that strong until you felt him grab your waist and place you on the floor effortlessly.

“Ask the maids to prepare a bath for you, or you will catch a cold,” he said, putting on your back a cloak he had found hanging on one of the walls.

There was the hint of a smile on his face and seeing him behave like this towards you made you feel weird. You almost felt like he was trying to be affectionate with you, even though he wasn't quite succeeding.

“You should do the same,” you exclaimed softly.

Motivated by the kind moment you had shared, you reached out to brush away the wet hair that had stuck to his face and he shivered at your touch. It was the first time you touched him that way, out of conviction and with care.

“Your majesty, Lord Hand is looking for you. He says he needs to talk to you urgently."

“My grandfather,” he sighed at you, as if wanting to apologize for the words the guard behind you had just said.

He gave the man Moonshadow's reins and then explained that someone had to go get the horse you had left in the bay, so you assumed your presence there was no longer necessary. You were about to leave when he stopped you, grabbing your arm somewhat roughly and looking at you with a feeling that you couldn't decipher.

“I'll go to your room tonight,” he informed.

You felt a little disappointed by the reality of having to share a bed with him, after so long without having done so, but you were grateful that he was at least warning you.

You nodded your goodbyes and he did the same, forming an unspoken agreement. You thought maybe that was why he had been polite to you, so he could get back under your bed sheets. But there was no point in doing it, he wasn't courting you to win your hand, but you were already his wife and he had made it very clear that he could do with you whatever he wanted.

Still a little confused, you were escorted to your bedroom, where you hoped that a tub with hot water and essences would be enough to appease all those doubts that were growing in you.

FIFTH ACT: LOVE

At some point Aegon would get tired of all this, you were sure. But while that moment arrived, you were thoroughly enjoying all kinds of attention you received from your husband. He kept his promise to bring golden roses for the gardens and although the queen wasn’t very happy, in the end they adorned some of the busiest sections of the place. You took that as an act of good faith, so you thought that maybe the thought of repaying him for some of the decency he was showing you wouldn't kill you.

There wasn’t a single breakfast that you skipped, except when the prince was required for political matters or had to travel. You were too proud to admit that you had begun to genuinely enjoy his company, as you still had some distrust due to how temperamental the man was. It wasn't all sunshine and flowers, as the young man still had some outbursts that made you fear him and reminded you that this was who you were really talking to.

His drinking habits hadn’t changed much, since although he was able to handle it during the first week after that period, it was inevitable that he would go back to his old ways and drink an entire jug of wine in a couple of minutes. With sex it was the same, because he continued to fuck you without signs of care and regularly when he was lost in drink. It amused you to think that perhaps that was the reason why you still didn't carry a child in your womb; that he was too drunk when you tried to be of any use.

However, as your relationship strengthened you could notice slight (you almost swore they were imaginary) changes when having sex. He was no longer as rough towards your body as before and tried to thrust into you a little slower, as if he wanted to lengthen the moment and not just unload into you and sleep like a baby after that. Maybe it was just that the drink made him lethargic, but he had even started seeking your lips in the middle of the act or kissing everything within reach of the skin on your neck. You didn't intend to spend much time analyzing his behavior because for you it already represented a victory that he had stopped hurting you after every time you had sex and, honestly, you didn't want to inquire about it. Once again you thought it was more prudent not to question the prince and simply let him continue behaving that way.

Until one night, things looked different for you.

When you heard your husband open the door, quite late at night, and saw him approach your bed, you knew that the same dynamic of nighttime visits would take place. Aegon, already hard as a rock, would kiss you a few times, undress, order you to undress, and then position on top of you to satisfy himself. Needless to say, under the confidence that being in the dark gave you and your husband's lack of interest, you looked away or concentrated on something else while your martyrdom was carried out. He would finish, lie naked next to you, and then sleep soundly with no memory the next morning of what had happened.

Aegon called your name, just to check that you were awake or otherwise wake you up, and you were surprised to hear that his voice sounded quite normal. He wasn't slurring his words like usual.

"Your grace?" you called back, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him.

He did what was expected and as soon as he was far enough away, he started kissing you. You must have known something was wrong from that first moment, when he grabbed your cheek with his wide hand and offered you the most passionate kiss you had ever had. It is reiterated that Aegon was always somewhat careless in intimacy, but this first contact hadn’t felt as impatient as others, but rather was something more careful and planned.

Only one other man had kissed you like that in your life and although the feeling brewing in your chest must have been pleasant, the truth was that it wasn't. You had endured too much abuse from the white-haired man so your body didn't know how to react otherwise. That's why when he continued kissing you for longer than usual and then laid you down meekly, you couldn't do anything but tense uncomfortably.

You were only in your nightgown so there wasn't much difficulty in sliding the straps to the side, almost exposing your tits. Suddenly Aegon lowered his kisses to your neck, where his stubble scratched your skin. Knowing that he would be busy in that area, you turned your head away to focus your gaze on a tapestry on the wall. However, you got a surprise when you felt the prince move away from you and then a bigger one when he took your face between his fingers, placing his index finger and thumb on each of your cheeks to force you to look at him. At first you thought there was anger in his eyes, but after looking at them for a second more you concluded that the feeling was more like that of someone insulted. And why? you asked yourself. What had you done that had offended the prince?

“Why are you looking away?”

His question had a certain aggressive tone, but, at the same time, he sounded hurt. With that you confirmed that he wasn’t drunk or that, if he was, he had drunk just enough to make him feel slightly dizzy. You couldn't tell the way your eyes looked at him, but Aegon interpreted your expression as one of disdain.

Unbeknownst to you, he had his own whirlwind of feelings inside him, one that was driving him crazy and causing him to look you up and down while still holding you. He’d never been like this on another night, so you were at the mercy of knowing how good or bad that would turn out.

Suddenly he seemed upset, you would even say disgusted, and surprisingly stood up from his position. The cold air hit you where he had been before and you sat on the bed to watch him, completely confused by the way he was behaving.

"What's going on…?"

“You don't want this,” he spoke firmly. It was obvious that you didn't want to and you wondered how he had barely realized it. “Not like that… I… no. Not this way"

His babbling confused you even more and when you saw him walk away with exaggerated steps until he left through the door, you couldn't help but feel totally amazed.

What was the reason for what your husband had just done?

The feeling of being abandoned was more hopeless than having him fuck you would have been, and for a moment you even felt ashamed. Maybe he didn't like you anymore or he would just go and cure his frustration in the bed of a woman you didn't know.

He had watched you very strangely and the whole scene wasn't like him. You even pinched yourself just to check that it wasn't some strange dream, getting a moan of pain in response to your question. You thought that perhaps you were acting impulsively, but barely a minute later you put on a green robe over your nightgown and headed towards the door, still not knowing exactly what you were going to do.

“Where are you going, your grace?” the guard on duty asked, putting his voluptuous body in your way.

“Prince Aegon, do you know where he went?”

“In that direction, your majesty. But I'm afraid I must recommend that you return to your room, it is dangerous to walk around the palace at this time."

“But I wish to see my husband,” you said firmly.

The man let out a sigh and then slid to the side of the hallway, leaving you a clear path. Even so, when you started walking you felt his footsteps following you because he probably wanted to make sure that something didn't happen to you. You walked for a while, but you knew it was useless when all you found were locked doors that you couldn't knock on and that you couldn't open either. If Aegon was in any of those rooms, you wouldn't know it. Defeated, you returned to your room and, as expected, found it empty again.

The next morning there wasn’t a single word about that event, but it was present in your mind throughout the day. You had already lived with him enough to realize that something was bothering him, however, upon noticing that he was less talkative during your usual breakfast, you decided to give him time.

You were about to leave the table when he stopped you, asking you to take your seat again and looking at you seriously.

“I have to travel for a couple of weeks,” he informed you. You were surprised to hear that he almost sounded sad “The king is required on some business and since my father can no longer travel, I will have to do it.”

“I hope the entire journey is favorable and the visit profitable, your grace,” you exclaimed cordially. However, your husband didn’t seem pleased with it.

One of his hands slid to hold yours, with a strength that surprised you. There was urgency in his grip, like he needed to hold on to something.

“Is that all you have to say?”

A couple of wrinkles appeared on your brow, as you clearly weren't understanding what he expected of you. Accompanying him would be reckless and you didn't know if he wanted you to keep him there at King's landing.

During those last months something had changed in the man's face, because those eyes surrounded by purple marks no longer saw you with the same aversion as the first time. And it disheartened Aegon that his attempts to please you were yielding no apparent fruit. He was giving you time, effort, and being kind to you like you had said was necessary, but he still couldn't help but feel that you still considered him a stranger.

He had been patient because he thought that, as time went by, you would begin to seek him out or not shy away from his touch. Aegon cared a lot about the physical, so every time he sneaked into your room he did so with the hope that you would welcome him with open arms and give yourself to him willingly. Countless nights he waited in his own room for you to show up to keep him warm and love him throughout the night. But it never happened and a part of him couldn't blame you either.

However, he was already tired of it. He wanted to make it clear to you that he not only wanted to give, but also receive. But forcing you to do anything would ruin everything; you had to want it.

“Have I said something that offended you, prince?”

“I just thought you would say you were going to miss me”

A laugh echoed in your throat at those words and for a second Aegon felt hurt, like you were mocking you. He was going to let go of your hand and walk away, insulted, but you squeezed his hand harder as a sign that you didn't want him to do that.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you. I just didn't think that if I harbored feelings of that kind they would be of interest to your majesty."

“Do you miss me when you don't see me?” he asked now, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you “Or are you glad to have me away?”

You didn't know what those direct questions were about, because you didn't expect that a man like him would be plagued by uncertainty about knowing the answers.

“Not at all. I will always be willing to be with you whenever you want.”

“And you want to be with me?” he insisted.

“I think that what I want is not important”

“But I'm trying to make it so. I thought I was making it clear enough,”

He was angry, but not for the reasons you might think. It frustrated him that he was trying hard to improve and that your eyes continued to see him like that first time. Too many people were already observing him like that and he thought that, perhaps, since you were the most recent to do it, you could also be the first in whom he could manage to modify it.

You, however, were still too confused by his signs. Sometimes his attitude didn’t coincide with the intentions he had, since antipathy was often the only emotion with which he allowed himself to express and feel, accustomed to what he received during all his years of life.

All those months of effort were a direct product of the talk you had had with him, of that moment of weakness in which, instead of ignoring him like everyone else did, you had stayed with him. Aegon was aware that the treatment towards you was sometimes inhumane and he couldn’t explain how despite this you had wiped away his tears with such care, expressing nothing more than an act of integrity. Sometimes he even just imposed things on you to see if he could push you to the limit and he was surprised to see that you endured everything with honor and decency. You were good, something he could never be.

He didn't want to hear anything more and then let go of your hand, feeling rejected again.

"Majesty…"

"It's getting late. I have to go feed Sunfyre so he can endure the trip.”

“Will you travel by dragon?”

“How else would a Targaryen do it?” expressed obviously.

You were silent for a moment and then he stood up, ready to fulfill his obligations. In the afternoon he had already left, without emotional goodbyes or anything like that.

You had those weeks alone to reflect on everything that had been happening. You firmly believed that a cruel and evil person would always be that way, even if they hid it, because humans can’t change from one day to the next. Still, you had to allow Aegon the courtesy of admitting that he wasn't being a complete jerk lately.

You tried to think of any unpleasant moments with him during that week and although you found a couple, you realized that they had all been because of minor arguments or simply that one of the two of you had woken up in a bad mood. The hatred for the boy had been so ingrained in you that now it was difficult to decipher how much of it was due to things that were really happening and how much of it was a resentment carried from the past, at the beginning of that harmful relationship that existed between you.

He was no longer a mean man to you, he just sometimes had those logical slips for anyone who has never been taught to love. He didn't know how to care for you, how to talk to you, or even how to touch you properly. He had always existed alone and could still be seen reflected in his incessant desire for you to be the one to look for him, in his longing to know that you would miss him during his absence and in wanting you to look forward to his return. He wanted you to pay attention to him. He needed it.

One fine afternoon the vision of Sunfyre finally appeared in the bright blue of the sky, with you watching from the huge window of your room. He looked majestic, flying deftly and confidently with the rider above him grinning from ear to ear. Aegon had once confessed to you that he loved to fly on his dragon and he spoke about it with a devotion that completely touched you.

You thought about going to look for him, grateful that he had returned, but you were afraid that your presence would bother him or, in that case, that there would be murmurs about you. You didn't want to seem like a desperate wife so you thought it would be best to look for him at dinner time and in case he wanted to see you before, you stayed in your room all afternoon.

Once night fell, you put on one of your prettiest dresses and went to the royal dining room hoping to find him there, but it was in vain. Luckily one of the cooks had seen him and he told you that he was in his room, since he had ordered that something to eat and drink be brought there.

Determined, you made your way there and took a moment before entering. You hoped that the time away from King's landing had not hardened your lover's character, because it would be a shame to waste what you had built for some time and have to start over, or not do it at all, which would be even worse. Since there were no guards at the door, you were able to push the wood without any hindrance and then you saw it.

Aegon was sitting near the fireplace, his back to the entrance and leaning against a table that had a jug that you assumed was full (or not so full anymore) of wine. When he heard your footsteps he turned slightly and when he saw you, he kept a serene expression on his face.

“Hey,” he exclaimed quietly.

“The maids informed me that you were here” you explained and he nodded.

You noticed that he no longer wore his black doublet with the Targaryen emblem, he only kept the breeches of the same color and a mint-colored linen shirt that left part of his chest exposed. His white hair had some natural curls that fell delicately over her shoulders.

“Yeah. I don't feel like seeing my parents.”

“I understand” you assumed that if he hadn't wanted to see you he wouldn't have hesitated to tell you, so you approached him. Undecided whether you should greet him with a kiss or just stay to the side, you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned a little to look at him “How was the trip?”

“It was good,” he responded with reluctance. “But my body feels completely crushed”

“Hm. It shows” you whispered, amused. The tension in his body was palpable and that's why you began to massage him, pressing hard just where he needed it. Aegon, feeling your skilled hands doing this, let out a satisfied grunt and leaned his head back with his eyes closed.

Doing that wasn’t something you had planned when you went there, it had only happened out of the heat of the moment and the reality that your husband's body was taking its toll on him for the hours he had spent riding his dragon.

With each passing second Aegon's burden felt lighter and lighter, wondering where you had learned those movements and how your hands were strong enough to exert the right pressure.

"Feel better?" you asked kindly and he nodded immediately, eyes still closed.

Suddenly one of your hands slid lower, towards his chest, to caress him. This time your fingers were light as feathers, sending an electrical current up and down the man's spine under your touch. No whore had ever touched him like that, with that force and at the same time so delicately.

But it was clear that you were not a whore. You were his wife.

“Come here,” he said firmly, reaching out to wrap his hand around your wrist and pulling you directly into his lap.

It was extremely painful to admit that he had missed you. He was physically frustrated because he hadn't dared to take any other woman in your absence. It had been a long time since he had frequented pleasure houses, since his appetite was awakened only by being with you.

What the hell had you done to him?

“The cook told me that you ordered some food, but I only see wine around here. Have you already eaten anything?”

“Mhmm,” he said absently. Your legs dangled to the side and one of his hands came up to your face, brushing your loose hair away from it. The other one surrounded you until it planted itself firmly on your belly. “Still no signs of anything?”

“Honestly, I don't know. The maesters can’t say with certainty… I am sorry”

“What if you are sterile?” the mere possibility of it made you nervous and you wondered what your fate would be if that was the case. Aegon didn't look so worried “What a disappointment for Alicent.”

You didn't know how to take that, because on the one hand it could be that your husband was amused by the irony of the matter and on the other hand it was that he would never have wanted to have children with you. For a moment you thought that the tranquility of the environment had been fragmented by this, but it turned out that the man couldn't care less. He was completely focused on your lips, almost as if hypnotized.

“I trust that is not the case, your grace. Just… it was a streak of bad luck.”

“I guess so,” he murmured nonchalantly. He was still watching your mouth when you spoke “But now I don’t care much about that.”

He carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you closer to shorten the distance, giving you an eager kiss that took your breath away. The hand that was on your waist pulled you closer to his body, leaving practically no separation between you and him. You could feel the desperation on his lips and in his touch, like he was eager to make you his. And at the same time, he was kissing you like he had never done before: it was sweet, yearning, passionate. You felt like he really wanted you.

He separated from you so you could breathe and, as best he could, he maneuvered to lift your body until he placed you on the table, where it was easier for him to place himself in the space between your legs. You instinctively placed your hands around his neck and wrapped one of your legs around his body.

“I longed for you. These weeks” you finally confessed. You heard him, and felt him, breathe more erratically at this because your words had fallen on him with the force of an axe.

From there, Aegon acted solely driven by the feeling of knowing that you had wanted to see him as much as he had wanted to see you.

His entire body leaned over you to kiss you, with the same urgency as at the beginning. While he did that he grabbed you by the lower back, pulling you until your body collided with his crotch which, if it wasn't already hard, wouldn't take long.

His kisses were clumsy due to urgency and after a while he moved away from your mouth to descend to your neck. Sometimes he left a kiss or two, at most, but this time he seemed to want to take his time. His tongue ran all over your skin, freshly washed, and he spread caresses without restraint. Every place the dragon's lips touched lit up with fire and his hips grinding against you weren't doing much for the blush on your cheeks. Inevitably you began to sigh from so many stimuli, right at the level of his ear, which only motivated him to continue.

As best he could he pulled the laces on the back of your dress and it didn't take long to get rid of the restraints. He slid one of your sleeves over your shoulder to begin kissing that section, the same way he had done with your neck. An indiscreet moan escaped you as your husband bit into your soft flesh and you could feel him smile against your skin.

“You're mine, right?” he sighed brokenly. You had tilted your head back to give him more space and he took the opportunity to lower the entire torso of your dress. “Only mine…”

With the same devotion he took care of your breasts and you couldn't do anything but continue alternating between sighs and some muffled moans. You could feel how he longed for you, eager to be able to kiss every inch of your skin even if it took him the entire night. Suddenly your body had become a temple, an object worthy of worship. The prince continued to distribute kisses that each time descended towards your belly, until with one hand he violently threw everything that was on the table and you ended up lying completely on it. Then he walked away.

You were about to ask what had happened when he took care of taking off your ballerina flats and throwing them somewhere far away in the room, only to stretch your leg up to the height of his torso to start kissing it. No one, not even him, had ever done that to you, so it was natural for you to be dismayed. His kisses moved quickly up your thigh and once he did that, he dropped to his knees in front of you. The skirt of your dress blocked your view and when you tried to get up something made you scream. Aegon had bitten into the tender flesh of your thighs, quite close to your crotch and with more force than he had hit your shoulder. You could only imagine his face when he carefully licked the mark he had surely left on you, once again making your chest exhale a moan.

What he did next and the sensation it caused, you could never have even imagined. That mouth, which most of the time was used for ironic puns and sloppy kisses, was now taking expert care of all of your pussy. Aegon was devouring you completely, touching just where it was necessary to make you squirm on the table. He wasn't careful at all; it was a touch hungry and extremely dirty.

You wanted to hold on as much as you could to keep yourself attached to reality, but it was difficult with your husband eating you like that. One of his arms wrapped around your leg and placed it over his shoulder, probably to give him better access. You had never moaned like that in his presence and it only made him harder and harder beneath the tight fabric of his breeches.

The pleasure was barely getting to your head when he stopped and a dissatisfied grunt escaped you shamelessly. Aegon laughed unabashedly at this, pleased at the control he had gained over you, and then went up again to kiss you hungrily. You couldn't do anything but welcome his salty lips and you moaned against him as he leaned against your body and you could feel his crotch, not knowing if it was your own wetness or his that was present.

He held you from behind and, without stopping kissing you, carried you until he placed you on the bed. You considered it somewhat unfair that your husband already had you trembling beneath him and still hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing, but your complaints were silenced when he hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head and took off his breeches in record time. In the same way, he pulled your dress towards your legs so that a second later it ended up on the floor, along with everything else.

He knelt down on the mattress and spread your legs roughly, lining himself up with your entrance. He began to rub the tip of his member up and down your already wet center and that did nothing but drive you crazy again.

When a delicate, pleading, «please» escaped your swollen lips, Aegon knew it was more stimulating to have you begging for him than to worry about only satisfying himself.

He played with you for a while longer, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of his delicate, pretty wife vibrating from having him close, until he finally plunged into you. For the first time there was enough wetness in you that the stroke felt satisfying rather than painful and both of you let out a delicious moan.

He set the pace, slow at first, but after a while his movements became more desperate. He wanted to get to the core of you, he wanted to fill you completely so you knew that only he could make you feel that way. When his body began to ache he leaned towards you, resting each of his arms on the side of your head and looking directly at you. You had stopped looking away from him, now you were looking at him with your mouth open with pleasure, your eyes watery and your pupils dilated on your completely flushed cheeks.

“Aegon,” you sobbed pathetically, clouded by everything you were experiencing and proving that it wasn't long before you reached your orgasm.

You had never called him by his name. You always referred to him as «your grace», «prince» or «husband», at best. So hearing his name come out of your lips like that, under those circumstances, was too much for him to bear.

Knowing that he couldn't last much longer, one of his hands moved down to rest his thumb on your clit and once there he began to make erratic circles. You closed your eyes, completely seized by pleasure and a couple more thrusts were enough to make you lose the battle. Hearing your whimpers, combined with the way your walls squeezed him, was enough to make him cum too. With trembling legs you felt the warm liquid filling you and, for the first time, it was comforting.

When Aegon plopped down next to you, you immediately missed his body warmth. Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to catch the breath that the orgasm had taken from you. You could clearly feel your heartbeat bouncing off your bare chest and the stinging sensation coming from your crotch and running through your entire body was something you could get used to. Your hair had stuck to your face from the sweat and not to mention your lips, which you felt were burning from your husband's attention.

Aegon had already had many orgasms in his life so this time he decided to turn his gaze a little to see you enjoying yours. The mere idea that he was responsible for your condition made him completely shake.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. You thought he had heard wrong because of the rush, but from the way he was smiling at you, you highly doubted it. “Just like that”

“Like what?”

“Freshly fucked. Well fucked” he corrected himself.

A laugh bubbled up from within you and you blushed even more, if that was possible, perhaps from the nerves and elation of what had just happened. The man stood up a little from his seat and leaned down to kiss you, although this time he did it with a calm and affection that you never thought you would see in him. It was just that he couldn't deny it anymore; from that moment on he would become an open book for you, where you could see all his feelings, desires and fears.

“I don't know why you're doing this,” you suddenly murmured and Aegon pulled away enough to look at you “And I don't know why you've been acting like this these past few months. But I like it. I think it's a good time for you to know."

“You said I could choose who I am,” he said meekly. One of his hands grabbed your chin and stole another fleeting kiss from you. “I haven't forgotten, every word is present in my head. It's just... sometimes it's hard. And I thought I would have a better chance with you, even with the things I did to you when we got married”

You smiled at him and were happy to know that the change in his behavior was because of the talk you once had with him. If he continued like this, ignoring the demons inside him and trying to be better, then your marriage had a chance to become more than just a condemnation.

Driven by the pleasant feeling growing in your chest you reached out towards him to reward him with a kiss. The man's breath hitched when you pushed him to the side and reversed roles, now you being the one pampering him while he was lying down. There was a playful glint in your husband's eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you know this is the first time you kissed me?” he exhaled softly.

You couldn't believe that was possible and for a few seconds you tried to remember so you could contradict him. But every time you remembered you realized that it was always him who initiated the contact to which you only responded, so, effectively, it was the first kiss you gave him out of conviction.

Maybe it was an omen that something good was coming.

Still happy with how everything had turned out, you snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest while he hugged you and threw a sheet over your bodies. You planted a hand on his bare skin and began drumming your fingers, alternating with small circles made with the greatest delicacy.

You were silent for a long time, you even thought that your husband had fallen asleep until you heard him speak again:

“It's also the first time I'm doing this.”

“Are you talking about sex, your grace?”

“No, I'm talking about cuddling,” he confessed softly, his hand caressing your back the same way you did with him, “And don't call me your majesty anymore. I am Aegon. Or my prince, at any rate. But my is important”

With the affection worthy of a wife, you raised your head to place a kiss on his cheek and assured him that from now on you would call him that in the privacy of your chambers.

Suddenly, after another moment of silence, Aegon pulled you close to him as if afraid you were going to suddenly evaporate. Intending to calm his fears, you climbed until you were on top of his body, hiding your head in his neck so that the distance became minimal.

There was silence for another couple of minutes.

“Do you think I can ever be forgiven?”

Apparently the atmosphere of the moment had managed to soften the boy's heart.

“We can all be absolved, Aegon.”

"And you?"

"Me what?"

“Do you think you can ever love me?” you were quiet for a second, thinking about your response. Then, he added “Or could you at least try? It would be a nice detail for me. No one has ever done it before.”

Not wanting to ruin the mood with a false word you decided to kiss his neck gently and that was enough of an answer for him. He would have to trust in your goodwill and that he could continue to restrain his impulses to keep this newly discovered gem that was his wife. With some luck you could even be that person he prayed for so much all his life, one with whom he could feel safe.

The slowing of the man's breathing revealed to you that he had already fallen asleep and you discovered that it seemed not so bad to find yourself in that position, sheltered by your lover's arms.

Under that scenario, the idea of eventually loving Prince Aegon Targaryen no longer sounded so far-fetched.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x fem!reader #aegon targaryen x female reader #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen

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yeyinde · 5 months ago

Text

victory lap

“Got a proposition for you, Simon,” the man says, and Simon snorts. He reeks of the same brand of cheap cigarettes as always—stale smoke, day-old tobacco; acrid and unpleasant. It makes his skin itch. “an’ I told you already, Price. I ain't interested in a team—” “Not a team, Simon.” The look he levels him with is nothing short of malicious. Dangerous. His hackles raise on instinct, everything inside of him hissing to back away. “Got something else in mind.” Then through the door was you. Pretty as a picture— And all his for the night. or: John strikes a deal with young Simon Riley. his cooperation on a team they're putting together in exchange for a night with you. naturally, it goes awry.

18+ SMUT. implied noncon, dubcon. under-negotiated kink. bondage. overstimulation. size difference. size kink. messy, sweaty gross sex. rough sex. unsafe sex. mean Simon. smitten Simon. bullydom!Simon. spit kink. degradation and humiliation. young!Simon (pre-mw2019-2022 when he was still a Seargent; 25-28ish). manipulation. attempts at taming a stray dog that goes as well as you'd expect.

It's John who takes his muzzle off.

Dangles the key on his finger when he kicks open the door, letting his Lieutenant glimpse what lay behind it. Giving a gruff, like what you see? when his eyes finally adjust to the low light flooding in.

It takes him half a second. Enough time to commit the scene in front of him to memory.

It's you, of course.

good dogs get rewards, don't they, Simon?

Waiting for him. Pretty as a picture in sleek silk chiffon ribboned in intricate shibari around your chest, stomach, and thighs. Legs spread on the table; ankles tied down to the sides in nude jute rope. Hands clasped together, fingers laced; wrists tied above your head. The blindfold wrapped around your head is a pale pink ribbon, thicker than the silk on your body. Wrapped twice over your eyes, and tied in a pretty bow behind your head, he imagines.

In the split of your thighs, he finds you already slick. Wet. It drips down onto the table, puddling beneath your ass. The spread of your pussy, glistening in the flushed light; the small, pink vibrator taped to your clit makes his cock twitch.

"All for me?" He rasps, eyes fixed on your cunt. On how pretty it looks. How inviting. A soft, ripe peach offered in the heat of summer, and he wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. Her. "'ow sweet o'you."

And Price, he thinks, eyes slanting sideways as he glances at the man sliding into his chair. It stands to reason that this whole thing, you on a silver platter for a starving wolf, wouldn't have happened if he hadn't seen the look on Simon's face when you first met him. The hunger.

Simon's not stupid, of course. He knew you were off limits the moment Price put his paw on your nape, squeezing once. Owned, claimed. The intention, the message, clear. Mine.

Don't touch.

And the way you lit up, stammering out something about how good it was to meet him, told him everything he needed to know how your willingness to be shackled to his Captain.

But even so—

He couldn't take his eyes off of you.

(and in his intense cataloguing of everything you did, he couldn't help but notice how you kept touching your neck when Price was dragged away for a conversation leaving you all alone in a room rankled down his spine. almost as if you were reaching up to fix a collar—)

The memory alone makes him shudder.

"All yours, Simon," Price drawls from his perch on the throne. Between two fingers, a cigar sits, unlit. Ghost huffs.

The words are a vicious bite to the want pooling low in his belly. "That so?”

The room seems to shake when he steps inside. Floor creaking ominously under his weight. It makes your mouth drop, heavy breaths spilling out between dull teeth. Chest rising and sinking shallowly with a wild sort of nervousness that flits across the expanse of your cheeks, in the tremble of your lower lip.

Despite your unease, your legs stay open. Held aloft by the rope, he knows, but also—

A testament to how trained you are.

He prefers his pets wild. Unpolished. Vicious little things that he gets to bring to heel with a sharp bark and rough hand glued to the back of their skulls, pushing their head into the dirt, to the floor, where it belongs.

Fine china broken at his feet.

But you—

Manicured. Groomed to perfection. Save for the harsh breaths and the shake in your joints—both an indication of just how new you are at this. A novice. One slowly being crushed under the leather boot of a man who reeks of smoke and whiskey.

But knowing his captain and the furious need for control, he imagines you're better than some of the seasoned ones he'd come across in his lifetime. No room for errors.

And certainly no forgiveness for them, either.

His cock twitches again—a heavy, aching weight against his thigh—and he reaches down to cup the thickness of it, crushing the flesh in his palm to stave off the need burning in his loins. The urgency to sink inside of your pretty little cunt rewiring the part of him that likes to mess his pets up first. Ruin them before he takes them. Fucking them to the point of unconsciousness—and sometimes, beyond it.

But you—

You've been a phantom taste in the back of his throat for months now. A tease between his teeth. Sinking his jowls into you is the only thing on his mind.

And when you're offered up so enticingly—

Well.

Price can't blame him much for how badly he's going to ruin you.

He reaches out, fingers pressing cruelly into the slim, thumb-sized vibrator Price has locked against your clit. A mindless, incessant torture, he's sure. Pushing you over the edge on a constant, unrelenting loop.

“Messy girl,” he rasps, the starchy fabric of the mask glueing to his balmy skin.

The reprimand makes you flinch in shame, but the flutter of your cunt belies the contrition that drapes over your brow in a shallow mimicry of sorrow. He can see why Price latched onto you so quickly, and doesn't bother fighting the stab of envy that brims in his chest.

“Didn't your old man ever teach you any manners?” He mocks, dry and derisively. Quietly amused by the soft mewl you let out, one that only just eclipses the snort from Price. “Daddy's been slackin’, ‘asn’t he? Let his little girl turn into a messy fuckin’ slag.”

You try to close your legs to no avail, the rope keeping you spread. In part, he thinks, from shame—blistering, burning, and vibrant when it streaks across your face—but mostly from the slick gush that leaks out of your drenched pussy at his foul words. Trying to hide it from him. To keep him from knowing just how much the brassy roll of his ugly words makes your empty little cunt ache.

“Look’it you.” He rumbles, enjoying the shiver in your joints. The way your head rolls to the side, nose pressed tight to the skin of your arm. “Messy pussy just achin’ to be fucked.”

He adds more pressure until you choke. The scream lodged in your throat. Your toes curl. He hears the soft pop of your joints when you arch your back like a cat in heat yowling for attending.

“Want it bad, don't you?” He taunts. “Daddy must’a spoiled you too much—” another scoff from Price. The creak of leather. The clink of ice against glass. “Didn't teach you any manners—”

He wants you to beg. Wants to hear the peal of your voice—rough and ragged and begging him to sink inside you; fuck your little cunt until you can't walk anymore—but that's not what he's here for. Not why Price dragged him up to the room. Gave you to him.

And with the silk gag in your mouth, he knows he won't get it, anyway. Tied in a pretty bow behind your head. Wet with your spit already.

Simon's fingers slide down, dragging over the folds of your cunt. You're wet. Soaked. Drenched in a way he's never seen before; folds glistening. Thighs wet. Sticky. He licks his lips. Tastes the brine of his sweat. He wants to eat your pussy. Spread you wide on his tongue and make you beg Price to let Simon make you cum.

The thought roots in his head. Burrowing deep. He can already hear your sweet voice pleading with his captain—please, please let him make me cum—but he pushes it down when Price makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat.

He knows why he's here.

And wonders, then, when he steps back and drops his hands to the button on his trousers, how many times you've been punished like this. The thought is a sour smoulder in the back of his head. An ugly, foul thing unfurled over the soot-stained walls of his skull.

(he'll ask later. get the names of every man Price let see you like this, and pluck the memory of you right from their skull—)

“So needy,” he drawls, dragging his cock out of his slacks as they fall low on his thighs. “Even after this pussy’s been spoiled so much?”

It makes you keen, and the noise is a searing knife to his guts. He groans with it—low and rough, the noise scraping over the flesh of his throat until it hurts.

“Gonna have to punish you, ain't I? Needy fuckin' thing—” so he says, but his cock is just as sticky as your thighs, weeping a steady stream of pre-cum that pools in the tangle of hair at the base, dusting over his heavy, fat balls.

He shuffles closer, and reaches out to your knee, slipping his fingers behind your shin. The squeal of naked flesh against the metal tabletop shouldn't make him throb but it does. Cruel man, he thinks, and drinks in the way you wince.

He presses his cock against your slit, mouth dropping in a harsh pant when he takes in the hideous sight it makes. Your pussy is covered up by his girth. The tip of his cock bobbing over your belly button, dripping pre-cum into the divot.

Simon pulls his hips back, letting his cock glide over your silken flesh. The wet squelch it makes when he thrusts forward, cockhead tapping on your belly, has him grunting like an animal. It's obscene, this. The way he can't even see your folds over the wide spread of his cock. Pussy tucked neatly under him.

He can't even begin to imagine how you'll take the full length of him inside of you when his cock nudges past your belly button when he lets his balls rest on your molten slit. Poor thing.

He doesn't know if Price stretched you before this. Got you ready for him. But the man makes no move to intervene when Simon pulls back until his head slips down your seam, bracketed between your plush, swollen folds, tight against your entrance. All he has to do is—

Push

And the tip of his cock slips in.

You make another noise at the sting, and he thinks you might be crying but his eyes are riveted to the spot where you open for him. Pussy so small, so tiny, compared to his cock in a way that's sickening. Garish. But your little cunt drools on him. Rim fluttering like a heartbeat on his glands, pulling him deeper. Enticing him to sink inside. All the way. Until he can feel the hitch of your breath on his cock.

He leans back to get a better view, the motion forcing another inch inside of you. The noise is slick. Giving as your silken flesh parts around him, eagerly taking him in. But as wet as you are, as pliant, the stretch is unbearable. It chokes the air from his lungs when you tighten up around him—

“Fuckin' hell—” he snaps, his upper lip curling up beneath the mask. Your cunt makes him angry. Suddenly, viciously. The fury drips down his spine, pools at the base of his cock. His hand slips out from between your thighs, roughly grabbing your waist. Holding on tight as he jerks his hips harshly against you.

You feel good. Perfect. Wrapped snugly around him. A hot, wet embrace. And he huffs at the bitterness that clots in his lungs; the surge of pleasure so blisteringly intense, it nearly makes him gag. Makes him sick.

Price has this every night.

The thought alone is a poison. It needles in deep, lashing at him with foul, rabid teeth. Cruelly, he pushes deeper, sinking his cock in another inch, another, another—mindless in this pursuit to tear you apart well before you're ready for it.

He wants it to burn. To ache. Wants to be the worst fuck you've ever had; cock too big for you to take, but he feeds it to you in full. Gives you all of it. Every inch. Until your stomach churns with every press of his cockhead against your cervix, his glands sliding over that spot inside that makes your knee jerk and your eyes roll.

Wants you to remember him as a beast. To think of his cock and feel nauseous.

To sink deep inside of you—brutal and savage—until you can still feel him in your pussy for days. Each step causing a sharp pang in your lower belly.

It's awful, he knows. Terrible. But he forces himself into you anyway, feeling your flesh split around him. A blunt, unyielding pressure until his balls tap against your ass, pussy spasming around the fat length he punishes you with. He's sure he's deeper inside of you than anything—any man, cheap silicon—has ever dreamed of being. Kissing places in you that nothing has ever touched. Feels it in the nervous flit of your muscles pulsing around him—this foreign thing bludgeoning into uncharted territory, stretching you wide. Almost virginal all over again. It makes him groan.

Your pleasure is a muted ripple down his spine. The vibrator forcing you into enjoying the sharp sting of your rim pulled taut around the plug of his cock, skin blanching from the strain. He wants to stay just like this—grinding his hips into the backs of your spread thighs, cockhead chiselling into the molten seal of your womb with every gyration until the line between pleasure and pain begins to blur. Until you gag from how badly having your walls battered burns, hurts, but the bloom of pleasure deep inside your groin keeps you in place. Makes you arch your back, wanting more.

Desperate for it.

But this isn't what Price wants, is it?

No—

He voices his impatience with a muffled grunt. Get on with it, Simon is pinched out between the silver of space between his teeth, the butt of a burning cigar keeping his jaw unhinged. The heady, sour-sweet stench of smouldering tobacco, nicotine, staining the words.

You clench at the sound of Price's voice, pretty pussy drawing all tight around him. Perfectly trained. Sweet thing, he thinks, pulling out of you slowly. Just a few inches. Feeling your skin glue his; the glide of your walls over his shaft sickeningly good, nauseatingly so. He holds it for a moment, staring down at you through the eye holes of his mask, breathing heavily. Sweat drenches his skin. Tacky, hot. The starchy fabric clings to his flesh, peeling away each time he moves his head.

The exertion of fucking his cock into you shows through the muted pulse of his joints, muscles aching from the strain of pushing forward.

(Holding himself back.)

You blink at him blearily, eyes misted with tears. A smaller puddle sits on the table near your temples.

Up close, he can see the full detail of the intricate shibari binding you tight. The sleek pink ribbon weaving over your chest, your breast, stomach—hishi karada, Price said. At the base of your neck is more silk in a mockery of a collar. And he wonders if you miss it, then. The solid weight of leather on your skin. If your hands weren't tied up, he imagines they'd be there. Holding firm.

Just like the night he first met you.

The silk rope, the loss of your collar—

“Your dad's a cruel man, ain't he?” He mocks, sliding his fingers over the delicate trim of silk bound tight under your heaving breasts, peppering across your nipple, down the slope. Resting at the base of your throat. The thin slip of fabric is not enough to give you what you need. The pressure, the friction. The sense of being owned. “Didn't even give his little girl a collar.”

More of that tantalising shame rake over your expression. Tears dribble out in hot drops, spilling down the side of your face.

He hums, slips this fragility into his back pocket. “Want me to give it to you, little girl?”

He spits the words out like they're wrong. Awful. Takes in your flinch, the downward twist to your lips, and shoves that, too, into his pocket.

Simon has no intention of waiting for an answer, for permission—he reels back, hand still splayed wide over your sternum, and pulls his cock out more until only the flare of his glands peaks out. He's soaked—glistening with your slick. So wet that it drips out of your plugged hole, gliding down the cleft of your ass.

He wonders if you always get like this—

Bites that thought clean through with an angry groan, and pries his fingers out from the back of your knee, dragging them to the end of his mask. Rucking it up over his skin, bunched against the bridge of his nose.

If the mess of his mouth, chin, the crooked, angular slope of his nose horrifies you at all, you don't let it show. Content to quietly sob on the table, eyes flickering between the thick plug of his cock between your thighs and the Price.

He hates you, he thinks. And then he spits on your pretty pussy, right over your taut rim. Watches the foamy mess bubble, drip down to the skin behind his mushroomed head. When it pools there, he pulls back until the widened flare of his glands slips free. You whine—a noise of bright hot disgust, humiliation—and he lets it burrow under his skin, trickle down his spine. Then he pushes forward, popping the head back inside of you.

The spit—his spit, too.

And he does it again. The same thing. Pulling out, spitting. Feeding it to her. Letting it rub against the slick, wet (wetter now) walls of her cunt.

Price doesn't say anything about this claim. Schoolboy possession—childish and immature when you're used to fine leather gripping tight around the slope of your neck.

Still.

He pulls on your proverbial braids until it burns.

The hum of the vibrator takes some of the sting away when he shoves inside of you again, cockhead bullying into your cervix with an unmatched cruelty. Leaking slick, steady, over your seal. Drooling, thick and viscous, against your walls. Staining you.

Ruining you.

Each breath is punched out when he bottoms out. Forced from your lungs. Winded. He knows it hurts almost as much as the thick bludgeon of his cock pressing deep, but as he scrapes and claws at the rot concealing over his humanity, morality, he finds nothing inside of him left to care.

He stops looking. Stops searching.

Simon fucks into you with vigor instead, laughing mockingly at the lewd, sinful squelch of your cunt. “Think that's the sound of all my spit, birdie? Or is your sloppy little cunt always this fuckin’ messy?”

Each piston makes his pelvis slap into the vibrator; he can feel it through the tangle of coarse hair spooled above his cock. Buzzing incessantly against his skin. The spike of sharp pressure has you yowling beneath him, hips twisting, turning, trying to flee from the brutal onslaught. Pleasure and pain balancing on a knife's edge.

He holds you there. Dangles you above the precipice just because he can—

A lazy flick of his waist. The savage grind of his hips. The softened bulge of his lower belly tapping against the plastic toy—

And it breaks you. This careless, effortless attention he pays to you has you tightening up around him like a knot, a vice; cunt squeezing, squeezing, before you shatter. Wave against a cliff; you spasm on his cock in a series of shallow, tight throbs pulsing along to the rapid fire of your heartbeat.

His eyes are locked on your face. Pretty, lachrymal. Tears bleed down your temples, soaking into your hairline. Puddling underneath.

His own little sea of your miserable pleasure.

Eyes rolled into the back of your head. Toes curling. Hips jerking, twisting. Trying to run from the ugly, awful way he makes you cum. Makes you gorge yourself on pleasure. Force-feeding you pain with each sloppy, brutal thrust into your sopping, messy cunt—swollen, bruised; battered. And his—

—ice clinks against glass. A clicking swallow follows. The hollow thud of glass on wood. Scraping over the veneer as it's pushed back into place. Tobacco is chewed up by flames, popping and sizzling; smoldering with each inhale as the playwright watches the show he weaved together unfold—

—his.

The silk around your neck comes loose with each thrash of your head rolling from side to side, shaking with quick, successive no, no, no’s that go unheeded, ignored. Every animalistic rut of his hips makes you change your mind, anyway. Turning those devastating no’s to yeses so eager, your teeth clack with every thrust.

As it slips, sliding down the sweat-slicked column of your arched throat, he finds a stripe of red. A scab. Right at the knot where your collar would sit. A pretty gem in the middle. Your name, or maybe something that would amuse Price more than the perceived idea of your autonomy—bitch in glinting gold. His name and number etched into the back.

if found, return to John Price.

A foldhold, perhaps. Tailor-made for his boot.

He hunts, Simon knows. Walked in reeking of leather and smoke when they first met and casually mentioned how good he was at Big Game hunting. A threat, then—however thinly veiled and erring on the side of mordant humour it was. But he wonders if Price personally made the collar you mourned the night he swung you into Simon's path.

Your neck was bare, then. Blemishless.

A collar too small. Tightened too much. Punishment, he supposes, and feels a sick sense of satisfaction roll down from his nape to the bottom of his spine where it pools in his groin—hot, molten oil—as he wonders just how much convincing it took you to agree to this. To spread your pretty legs for the ugly brute Price dangled you in front of. Who watched you all night from the corner of the room, chest heaving and eyes wide, wild, and furious. Reeking of rot. Want. To let him rut you like an animal while Price watches from the corner of the room—

A bead of sweat follows the phantom trail.

“Fuck, birdie,” he's rasping, voice uttered wrecked. Mangled in his throat. “So fuckin’ tight f’me, ain't you? Must want me to cum inside this pretty cunt—”

You shiver. Knee jerking. There's a real sense of panic in your eyes when they dart over to Price, silently nursing another glass of scotch. He follows your gaze, catches Price glaring at him with his chin dipped low to his chest, peering out through his lashes. Brow furrowed. A flat line.

Simon doesn't stop thrusting. Keeps a steady pace despite the anger brimming inside of him as the pleasure grows. Festers.

Then—

Barely discernible: a nod.

Shadows fall over his cheeks. He brings the glass back to his mouth with a surly mm between the mouthful. An irrevocable fuckin' get on with it.

And Simon does.

The look he gives you pure predatory hunger. Victory in the potent stench of charred bones. He lifts his chin, stares down at you—all spread out like a gift to a god—and surges forward with a rabid hunger brimming in his guts. Unquenchable. Horrific.

—wants you to eat you alive. Consume you whole. Leave nothing for Price to pick at, to mourn over,

settles instead for ruining your pussy. For fucking you raw. Cumming deep inside of your quivering cunt even when he knows you don't want that. Are silently begging Price to reconsider. To get this ugly fucking mutt off of you—

It churns his guts. Makes him viciously excited over the image that brims in the back of his head, tears raining down your cheeks as you bring a shaky hand to your aching, swollen cunt, feeling the thick, viscous glob of his cum leaking out.

Or before that, when you have to lay there and take it. Feeling his cock throbbing, pulsing as it spits cum inside of you. When he pulls out, and a milky trail follows, dribbling down between your cheeks. At his mercy the whole time, too, because Price won't get up right away to untie you. You'll have to lay there in his filth, feeling it ooze out of you—

He wants it. Badly. Feels it scorching his hindbrain, burning him up from the inside out.

Later, he thinks, he'll fuck you with more finesse. Make you cum on his fingers—stuff them inside of your sore, aching cunt to the last knuckle; give you three of them to squeeze around, to cling to, and watch the ink on his bruised, scabbed skin disappear inside of you over and over again, pulling them out all slick, pearlescent with a mix of his cum and yours. On his tongue, too. Keep you in this pretty frogtie, unable to push him off—or pull him closer. Forced to take it. To let him lap at your pussy until he quenches this uneasy hunger festering inside of his stomach, growing bolder, greedier at the sight of you splayed out like this, exhausted already even though he's only just begun.

Fuck you again, too, just because he can.

all yours for a night, Price had said, sealing your fate with a sharp, decisive nod.

He plans on making the most of the twelve hours until sunrise that he has.

This, then, the appetizer—

It curls over his shoulders, tar-stained fingers digging into the tight coil of his muscles, easing the tension in increments. Soothing out the fear that still clings to him of missing out. Still, very much, that hungry little mutt on the side of the street, peering into the bakery at the family's milling about, smiling happily. Content to ignore the brat in rags glaring at them from an alcove with bruises on his chin, and a black split on his lip. Diving for scraps because the alternative is going to bed with an empty stomach in a house that reeks of flat beer and stale piss.

There's nothing to miss out on here, it reasons, when he has you all night. All his.

“Beg me,” he huffs, sniffing through the balmy, damp mask when it slips down his crooked nose. “Beg me not to cum inside you.”

All you can do is make a small, keening oomph behind the loose gag, words muffled by wet silk. His head rolls back, eyes narrowing down at you in mocking delight—catlike, leonine, in the dwindling glimmer of sunlight spilling through the crack in the curtains.

“C’mon,” he taunts, rolls his hips into you just to hear the loud, wet squelch of your pussy taking the full, fat length of his cock. Lets the noise box through his ears in a vicious, heavy punch. “Or I'll cum inside you—”

He's already there. Edging toward the precipice.

Simon grabs the tops of your thighs, digging his fingers into your skin, and pulls you closer to the edge of the table until your ass lifts. It opens you up wider for him, knees notched wide, nearly level with your ears. The new position lets him push in deeper, fucking you in full now. Balls slapping against your ass with every brutal stroke.

He leans down, knee lifting to the table as he climbs on before dropping the full heft of his weight onto you. Forearm braced above your head, the other catching the column of your bare, scratched neck in the wide spread of his palm.

The size difference before was intoxicating. A rush that pooled in the back of his head before rocketing down to his spine, filling his cock, but this—your knees bracketing around his waist, spread so wide they're forced down flat to the table below in a split that lets his cock sink in deeper, head tucked against his collarbone, swallowed whole beneath him, is his undoing.

Arched over you like a beast, he grunts. Ruts into your sopping cunt and feels the whines that spill from your throat at the rough way he batters into you.

The softness of his lower belly grazes the vibrator humming on your clit. The pressure makes your eyes widen, and roll into the back of your head. Neck trapped in his hold as you thrash beneath him, sobbing in earnest. In dismay.

He's sure it hurts. The pleasure careening into overstimulation—the kind that burns, bellows too much, no more. He huffs out a derisive snort, and eats your misery from your parted lips, dipping his head down to catch the seam of your mouth in a mockery of a kiss. The silk wrapped around your head, tucked neatly into the corners of your mouth, keeps it from being anything more than a messy smear of his scarred, torn lips and your muffled gasps. The band prevents him from really tasting you, and he makes do with curling his tongue over your teeth, catching the drool running down your chin.

It's gross. Messy. He slurps you up, and hums in pleasure when he tastes the brine of your tears.

“Gonna cum,” he grunts into the silk before catching it between his crooked teeth, nibbling on the wet hem, sucking on your spit soaked into the fabric.

Your pussy spasms around him. Eager, he thinks—pulsing like a heartbeat and starving for it. It blooms under his skin, burning hot like a fever. His tongue slips under your gag. Eyes glued to yours, listed in quiet, merciless delight when you grimace as he slides it along yours, nearly gagging you on it.

It's almost sweet. A pastiche of loving making—as close to the real thing as he's ever come. The thought is a bludgeon to his head, making his ears ring—

And he runs from it. Rears back from the sloppy kiss, eyes creasing, brow furrowing, as you stare up at him with wet, glossy eyes, rheumy with tears. Silently pleading for something he can't discern. He feels that trail of anger coiling in his guts again, sitting low in his belly as his hips stutter to a slow, softer roll.

His finger lifts, settles on the corner of your unhinged jaw, holding your head steady. There are lines, he thinks. Walls, divides. Protective armour—

And some shouldn't be crossed.

Simon spits on your gag. Squeezes the huff of disgust from your throat when he feels your chest expand with it. Bullies himself closer, smothering you under his weight. Owned, then. Claimed.

You can't close your mouth around the gag, or fingers digging into the muscle of your jaw. He keeps you like that, degraded. Dehumanised. A vessel for him to use as he likes—

Nothing more, nothing less.

Sinks into your bruised cunt again, hips slapping meanly into yours in a way he knows must ache. Sets a choppy, deep pace; humps your pussy and grinds the weeping, swollen head of his cock into your battered cervix. Loses himself in the messy, plugging rolls of his hips; the wet, tight slide of your skin—flushed and clenching around the thick of himself he feeds to you, over and over again. Mindless in the pursuit to ruin you further. Stain you with his cum—

The problem is:

You feel like heaven. Pussy wrapped tight around him. Silken walls hugging his aching cock until it feels like he's melting into the hot, wet squeeze of it. So good it hums inside his head like a purr, rattles his thoughts around until the ugly, bitter anger is turned inside out. Flipped.

He thinks about lines again as his sticky, wet balls glue to the slick skin of your ass, peeling off in a way that has pleasure peppering along his spine, spooling in his lower back. He did that, caused it. Made you so fucking wet that his knees slide in the messy spill of it leaking all over the table. The loud squelch of him slamming into your cunt echoes in the room—shrill and bone-melting. Ego-feeding. Enough to gorge his pride on it until its belly threatens to burst at the seams. Overfull.

Simon grunts. His face is soaked. The damp fabric of his mask is too drenched to even mop it up, sticking to his skin as sweat rains down from his shorn hairline, misting over his eyes. His upper lip. The dip of his chin. He's more water than man. Liquid. Melting into you.

The heat is unbearable. “Gonna cum in this pussy,” he snarls, and it sounds like a threat. Is one. He's going to burst inside of you, molten and thick. Been a while, he thinks, and feels his balls draw up. Tightening in a promise as he fucks himself into a syrupy stupor above you.

The inside of his ears are wet, and he thinks it might be his fucking brain leaking out—

The tight coil of his body snaps before he does, giving out in a heavy groan. He catches himself before he crushes you beneath him, still mindlessly thrusting into your cunt, cock pulsing, throbbing. Growing thicker, thicker, as he heaves into your temple, breathing in the pine scent of your skin. Loam, sea. Sweat. You smell like Price beneath it all—leather and smoke; scotch and wood—and his lips curl into a vicious snarl, teeth bared at the man in the corner, silent observer to this blasphemous confessional where he spills his guts inside of you, and you eat them up like they're made of gold dust.

It rushes him. A kick to his soft stomach, a boot crushing his ribs. The force of it hurts when it hits, surging up from the base of his spine, too fast for him to brace for. Tensing, coiling. The pressure knocks the air from his lungs, makes his hips stutter. Joints whining, twinging with pain.

He moans low and brassy, mangled deep in the rot of his chest, and cums deep inside of you. Sloppy, mindlessly rutting into the spread bracket of your thighs as pleasure burns across the back of his neck, his spine. His hips roll, shaking. Melting as he spills, spits thick globs of cum out, cockhead bullied tight against your plug.

All you can do is heave beneath him, whining at the molten spend he pours into you. Poor fuckin’ thing—

His lips are sticky, slick with sweat. He rubs them against the tacky skin of your temple, your cheekbone, babbling nonsense out on a purr—

Breedin’ this tight little pussy right in front of your old man, birdie. Got ‘im watchin’ his little girl take my thick fuckin’ load inside o’her. Fuckin’ hell—

—things that leak out between the cracks in the armour. The thick veneer. Made worse, his personal hell, when he feels your hips bump into his, taking his cock deeper inside as you squirm under the heavy weight of him. With your thigh flexing, squeezing his hip, it almost feels like you want more. All of him. For him to crawl deep inside of you, cocooned in the bracket of your ribs—

“Needy fuckin’ thing,” he rasps, words slurring. Eliding into mush. Nonsense he'll come to crush between his teeth later when he buries himself back inside of you over and over again, feeding blood to this vicious seedling inside of him.

Through the pounding in his head, your gasping little hitches in his ear, the undeniable silence from Price weighs on him even as the aftershocks of his release mute the noise in his head. A dense, hazy fog clouding over all thoughts.

It doesn't feel angry. Jealous. If anything it reeks of victory—

He grasps through the blanket, the murk, with lazy hands until he finds what he's looking for, and—

Oh.

Right.

(“Got a proposition for you, Simon,” the man says, and Simon snorts.

He reeks of the same brand of cheap cigarettes as always—stale smoke, day old tobacco; acrid and unpleasant. It makes his skin itch.

“an’ I told you already, Price. I ain't interested in a team—”

“Not a team, Simon.” The look he levels him with is nothing short of malicious. Dangerous. “Got something else in mind—”)

Then through the door was you. Pretty as a picture—

He stares down at you now. The base of his cock is soaked with your slick, flesh throbbing, pulsing, as he cums inside of you.

It's this—you, crying over the feeling of him spilling so deeply inside of you while your old man watches from the sidelines, unable to do anything but sit there as Simon fills his baby girl up—that he wanted. Wants. Needs, he thinks, more than the stale, humid air he breathes. A place of his own. Home. Even if it's made of paper mache, carved inside of someone else, someone who already has a collar. A brand—

But that's the point, isn't it?

A sick feeling curls over his shoulders as he thumbs the slim vibrator off of your clit, staring down at the swollen nub at the apex of your mound. Sore and sensitive and flushed bright. Bruised like an apple. Abused for hours. Poor thing, he thinks, even as he rubs the flat of his finger over it.

His cum seeps out around the softening plug of his cock. But it's still thicker than anything you'd ever taken before, he's sure. Sick with the deep sense of satisfaction that rolls over him at the thought.

It's worth it, then, even as the dawning realisation trickles over him like hot oil—

“What d’you like, Simon?”

A pretty bird in pale pink chiffon. Too good for the likes of him. Afraid of him, too. Cowerin’. Cryin’ somethin’ awful when he sinks his ugly, fat prick into them—

Price hummed. Curled his index finger over the top of his cigar, tapped the thick wrap twice with the tip of it, and then brought it to his lips. A flash of teeth beneath his beard—nicotine-stained; crooked in the low light—before they sunk into the butt.

There was something measured in his stare. Predatory.

Victorious.

And—

He gets it. You were a dangling lure in the deep, dark of the abyssal layer. A glimmer of light in thick murk. Iridescent. Dazzling. He was always meant to sink his teeth into you, wasn't he? Always meant to take a bite—

hook. line—

—sinker.

Or—

It would be if the fish Price caught wasn't a leviathan.

—in the scorching trail the oil leaves behind, something bestial, primordial, inside of his cocks its head in consideration. he can make a feast from this, it says; and so, he does—

“Need my help, Price?” Simon drawls, arms crossing over his chest as he stares down at him, quietly amused, and John feels the pulse between his temples starting up again the same way it had all those years back when he bumped into the man with you on his arm.

He grunts. “Sendin’ you to Mexico.”

“Tha’ so? I might be busy.”

He sucks in a deep breath, reaches for his cigar. The itch claws behind his eyes, in his gums. There's a headache, too. One he knows won't be soothed over with the numbing bliss of nicotine or a shot of scotch. Not when he'll have to slink home afterwards, this massive behemoth nipping at his heel, and deal with the aftermath of what happens whenever he sets Simon loose on you:

an icepack pressed tight against your aching cunt, a glare fixed on your face as he dotes on you after you made him clean up the absolute mess Simon left behind with his fingers and tongue—

“never again,” you'll hiss, wincing with each pull of his knuckles on your sore, bruised walls. “I mean it—”

(you always say that but the look in your eye whenever he pulls out the silk—the new assortment that Simon bought for you himself—tells him otherwise—)

He presses the heel of his palm into the crease between his eye and bone, rubbing until he sees phosphenes spark behind his eyelids.

“She'll be in silk,” he grouses, sucking his teeth in irritation. “And you'll be on fuckin’ plane to Mexico the next morning, Riley. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” he draws lazily with a half-hearted shrug, but Price can see the mutt inside of him panting with glee. He pretends to huff. Then: “I want her in white this time.”

The fuckin' prick.

—Price’s gamble of using you to lure the big, bad dog in works. but maybe a little too well. because now his sergeant expects one every time he's sent on a mission. and they send him out a lot.

—he now has a key to his captain's house. lets himself in whenever he wants. finds you exactly how he asked for it. usually tied up in silk, crying, and struggling to get away when he stalks inside the room. on your knees, begging him so sweetly not to fuck your throat too hard. you have work tomorrow. or fighting him off as best as you can until he pins you down, works his cock inside of you.

—in full view of the cameras, of course. non-negotiable. Price gets to see everything his brutish sergeant does to his pretty bird. everything.

—Simon is the one who keeps you company when Price is sent off to work with the CIA. keeps you stuffed full of his cock in the bed you share with Price, his little girl sobbing into the pillow that reeks of smoke and leather and sex as Simon forces every inch of his stupid fat cock inside you

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #my first time writing baby Ghost lmao i headcanon him as unhinged and sloppier than his older counterpart #ghost x reader x price #kinda??#price x reader #john price x reader

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thesilmarillionblog · 6 months ago

Text

EACH MAN KILLS THE THING HE LOVES

Summary: Even though you and Soldier Boy had a happy relationship for a year, Butcher and his team deceived him and sent him back to the lab, where he was tortured for decades in Russia. You decide to go there and save him, but things don't go the way you think.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: dark fiction!, heavy angst, hurt, violence, language, suspense, tragedy, death

Word Count: 3545

A/N: English is not my first language.

You turned to face Ben and rubbed your eyes as you came up from sleep, sensing him slowly lowering the bed. After a while, you became aware that you were not covered by a blanket, and the chill from the window caused you to tremble. You put some warmth into your arms by rubbing them.

He removed his shirt and placed his large arms beneath his head before saying, “Go back to sleep,” in a harsh manner.

“Ben?” you whispered in a quiet voice as you drew nearer to his stiff body.

He mumbled, “Sleep,” once more, but you quickly ignored his displeased demeanor and rested your head on his sturdy, warm chest.

You murmured, “But I'm cold,” closing your eyes and placing a leg against his thigh in the hopes that he wouldn't push you away.

You felt a little worried since his chest felt warmer than normal, but it wasn't too hot to touch, so you put your hand on it and listened to his powerful heartbeats.

“Of course you're cold; you're fucking half naked, and all windows are opened.”

“Why are you treating me so cruelly and mean tonight?” you asked, gently massaging his chest with your fingertips as a way to express your affection for him.

Ben was still like a secret box, and even though you two had been together for almost a year, it was clear that he wasn't very keen to open up to you. But there were moments when he was so tender and caring toward you that you knew, whether or not he realized it, that he cared about you on a deep level.

“You're a naive one if you think this is my mean or cruel version, sweetheart.”

Additionally, he expressed his disapproval of you telling him you love him on an ongoing basis after you did so for the first time. He didn't change his mind and silenced you each time you parted your lips to express your love for him, despite your attempts to ease him up by telling him he didn't have to say it back and that you didn't have any expectations about his expressing his emotions verbally.

“Is it because of Butcher?” you asked him. “Or Homelander? I'm thinking that you might be a little nervous about tomorrow,” You said in an effort to change the subject.

You tried not to seem cruel and carefully considered your remarks, knowing that his nerves were vulnerable these days, so as not to irritate him. There was a long moment of stillness between you before he opened his eyes and met your gaze.

With a sour tone, he questioned, “Do I look uneasy? Not me, sweetie, but that fucking cheap blonde product should feel uneasy. He won't be able to sleep soundly again after tonight.”

With confidence, he looked into your eyes and stated that he would murder Homelander the next day. You didn't enjoy the pressure Ben must be under, and it troubled you that you couldn't know exactly how he felt. Rather than expressing your sympathies, you wanted to show your sympathy through your actions. After all, he wasn't a man of words.

You rested your head on his large, warm chest, closed your eyes, and listened to his strong, slow heartbeat, thinking he was feeling the same way about you. Instead, he simply kept his arms folded beneath his head, undisturbed by your movements.

Despite your physical closeness, you felt a little hesitant and upset by the distance that lingered between you, so you raised your head and gave him a loving kiss while placing your fingertips on his thick neck. As he gave you back a powerful, passionate kiss and dominated your mouth with his tongue, your heart was flooded with joy.

As he was about to proceed farther, you pulled back to catch your breath because you knew he had previously touched you quite a bit in a rough and painful way lately, and though you wanted to go beyond, you knew you couldn't for that moment.

Ben looked perplexed as he gazed at you and hoped that before going to bed, he could spill inside you and relax once again.

You mumbled, “I feel sore,” before he continued. “You were quite rough today.”

“I've just fucked you three or four times, and you were already on Temp-V,” he said.

“However, the effects have worn off, and I'm now really sore. Give me a day to relax,” you playfully remarked. You were aware that he wouldn't press you on this. He didn't ever.

He murmured, “Alright, as you wish,” and planted a firm yet tender kiss on your forehead that right away melted your heart. You instantly realized that if he truly wanted it, you would give him your heart, ripping it from your chest.

You whispered, “I love you,” and hoped that he would simply ignore you rather than warn you once more. Thankfully, he remained silent and let you rest blissfully on his chest. You were aware that you would require time to earn his trust in every way. “We’ll be alright.”

Because of the stress and anxiety, you woke up hours before him, even before the sun came up. You told him you had had enough sleep and were sitting on a coach next to his bed, watching the sunrise outside the window.

Before they went to meet Homelander, Butcher and Soldier Boy imprisoned you and every other member of the team who wasn't a supe behind an extremely thick, iron door. Ben refused to change his mind, and you two ended up having a brief argument despite your insistence on using Temp-V and supporting him. Ben stopped listening to you and allowed Butcher to lock you up.

But in a short while, Annie tore off the door, releasing all of you. She was not the type of person to be kept in a cage for so long and to be unknown for her patience.

“Please let me join you,” you immediately plead, Annie.

Annie politely remarked, “Look, I don't think it's a good idea. You already know that we are not on their level. Not to mention that your presence would drive Soldier Boy even more insane; you could die between all of them in less than a second.”

“Please allow me to accompany you. I understand that what is going on is beyond everyone's strength, but I'll use Temp-V. And I'll keep my distance, cross my heart, and hope to die. I just want to be there because I have a bad feeling about all of this. That's it. I would never become involved, never.”

You sounded like you meant every word of that last sentence, even though you weren't quite honest. Even if Butcher and Ben's combined might were stronger than Homelander's, you had the feeling that something would go wrong.

Fortunately, Annie stopped arguing with you and came to terms with your presence as long as you were apart from Ben, at least until Homelander was dead. Knowing that you would receive fatal damage from one more shot, you took the Temp-V on the way. But this would be the final instance. It was just the last time for both Ben and you.

You watched everything in a large room where there were lots of cameras. As you sat in the chair quickly, you'd seen Ben touching Homelander's shoulder and telling him how much of a disappointment he was and that if he had been there for him from the start, he would have grown him like a true father. It wrenched your heart to know that Ben was being sincere at that precise time. The tragedy stemmed from how accurate the story was—Ben was being tortured in Russia while Homelander was just a baby, and everyone was attempting to turn him into a monster, and they were successful in doing so.

Now, in order for him to stop hurting and causing grief to other people and their children, his own father had to murder him. It was kind of a Shakespearean tragedy.

But instead of being hostile, Homelander showed Ben his son Ryan and told him Ryan was his grandson in order to win Ben over. Having been unaware of this, your lips parted in disbelief. With your tension-filled body, you watched the events taking place in the room and were unable to see Ben's response to them all, but you knew he wouldn't be kind at all.

Knowing that chaos was about to break out, you swiftly stepped out of the camera room after witnessing Ben strike Homelander's child and throw him away with anger.

Homelander checked his son and kneeled before him, while Butcher spoke in a harsh voice, “Not him. He's my wife's son.”

Ben remained silent while he noticed you standing there, bewildered by what Butcher had said. “Homelander fucked your wife, and you want to save the breed?” he asked, clearly confused.

That's when you realized that Ben was willing to do whatever it took to kill Ryan and Homelander. He burst at Butcher, anger shining in his eyes.

Butcher said, “Stand down,” in a controlled yet menacing tone.

“Fuck you.”

Ben stared at everyone with a heart full of wrath and a sense of betrayal engulfing his soul. He was honoring his word, but his own team had deceived him once more. Though he had planned to form his own team, start over, or do something else entirely, he realized at that very moment that ordinary people were cunning and treacherous; they were never satisfied and had no concept of loyalty. He was mistaken to believe otherwise.

You said, “Ben, please,” at a loss for words to help him become a little calmer. Of course, he had every right to be furious at Butcher, but there was no need for him to kill the child because he was innocent and hadn't chosen to be born as Homelander's son in the first place. “He's only a kid.”

“You shut the fuck up,” he angrily yelled at you. “How dare you fucking betray me for the son of a bitch?”

When you saw Ben's hate-filled eyes set on you as if you were nothing more than a foe, Butcher warned him once more to back off.

With a quivering voice, you defended yourself, saying, “I'm not betraying you.”

You felt a little bold because of the Temp-V in your blood and the confidence that he wouldn't physically harm you, even though you were frightened. You approached him, put your hand on his cheek, and gently stated, “I would never betray you. He is only a young child who has done no wrong to anyone, and Butcher obviously cares for him. Why do you feel the need to kill him so strongly all of a sudden?”

“Why do you even defend a little shit against me for him?” With an outrage so intense that it left you stunned and speechless, “Did you fucking get railed by Butcher?” your eyes began to water. He abruptly interrupted you by yelling, “Get the fuck out of my sight before I hurt you too,” as you opened your mouth to explain yourself and say something to ease his anger.

With a look of despair and frustration on your face, you muttered, “You're hurting me already,” and you moved away. The bridge you had worked so hard to build seemed to crumble in an instant, as if it had been made up of paper. “How are you even able to speak to me in this way?”

You desired to provide support, but Kimiko stopped you from going between Homelander and Butcher, who were trying their hardest to defeat Ben, by pushing you against the other side of the room with a rough touch, forcing you to go through a desk. Ben was holding his shield in front of him, his eyes full of madness and rigidity. Even if you were only a supe for a day, you groaned in agony since the amount you took was lower this time and your health had begun to decline daily.

“So this is it,” he muttered, his tone harsh as he watched you retreat terrified from him. “You've decided to abandon me in this. For fucking nothing.”

Before you even told him how much he meant to you and how wrong he was, Ben tried to attack Homelander's son, but Homelander used his laser eyes to force Ben away through the glass, pushing him away from his child. Standing side by side, Butcher and Homelander teamed up against Ben as they exchanged looks.

You tried to keep up your head while you cursed in agony and saw Ben battle Butcher for a while, dumping his shattered shield into the ground while wearing a deadly expression. Thankfully, Butcher's laser eyes did not affect Ben while he used them.

The situation worsened when Ben attempted to choke Kimiko, rendering her still beneath his grip, and then threw her away. When they all attacked Ben, attempting to put him to sleep with the same poisonous gas to which he had been exposed for decades, you stood up and yelled at Butcher.

You yelled, “What the hell are you all doing?” to MM, who was attempting to keep the mask on Ben's face while others were holding his arm. As soon as you moved to stop them, Homelander lasered you, sending you flying across the room once more. This time, you had some skin burns that hurt so much that your eyes were burning.

Ben roared, pushing everyone across the room in an eruption of rage. He also felt strong smoke coming from his body, which caused his eyes to close in an act of pain and rage. He clenched his jaw, hoping to find some relief. You were aware of the extent of his anguish while trying to get rid of the pain his body was causing. After all, his new powers were a punishment rather than a reward.

Annie glanced at you and Maeve, realizing that everything was messed up, either because of Homelander or Butcher—you were all failures—but Ben would not listen to you at all. The only person you had to worry about was Ben, who was aware of how much he was feeling let down and deceived at the moment. They were all attempting desperately to put him to sleep using the same gas that had put him to sleep in the first place as though he meant nothing to anyone.

Ben blacked out once more when Maeve jumped on him to save you all, and the CIA put the mask back on his face, taking advantage of his unconscious body as you stared at Butcher with hate and contempt. You watched Ben sleep with a heavy heart, knowing that he was getting ready to be sent back to Russia by the real monsters who were around him and intended to torment him for years to come. To not get attention, you made yourself stop crying and act unwise.

“You knew this was coming. You planned this from the very beginning,” you remarked to Butcher, who put his hands in his pockets as if nothing had happened. “You betrayed him by using him.”

“What were you expecting me to be doing right now?” Butcher looked at you and questioned you in a sharp tone. “He wouldn't stop after killing Homelander, and he was going to kill an innocent child. Do you believe the CIA agreed to release him only to force him into retirement and seize control of Vought? Sweetie, I thought you were wiser than this.”

Your hand balled into a fist, and you had to force yourself not to punch his silly, haughty face as he was speaking nonsense and attempting to defend his behavior.

“You may be trying your hardest to beat Homelander because you believe you are better than him, but you are not. You're just another narcist piece of shit,” you exclaimed angrily as he gave you one of his smirks, as if he wanted you to beat him to death. “You used me and Ben, and you're using everyone around you for your own sake, not anyone else's.”

“You should not have fallen so deeply in love with Soldier Boy,” he observed, arching an eyebrow. “Before he knocked you up, I really did save you too.”

Pushing him by the chest and you cursed, “I hope you rot in hell, Butcher,” walking out of the tower without listening to anything he or anybody else had to say.

After everything that transpired at Vought Tower, you parted ways with Butcher and the other members of the team, and you waited for three months to avoid drawing attention from either of them or from anybody else. You couldn't go into the lab where Ben was being held without a supe or being a supe, so you waited in pain along with longing for Ben as you searched for Temp-V to save him from Russia once more.

Fortunately, Annie had helped you in finding some after you had pleaded to her for hours and you had stopped caring about what would happen to you despite her warnings about how deadly it was. You were aware that one more dose would put your life in a critical situation. Love was blind indeed, but you were blinder.

You felt terrible pain this time, crawling in agony and crying for about thirty minutes after taking the last shot of Temp-V and allowing it to pass through into your body and blood. Despite the pain, you chose to focus on the lovely and tender memories you shared with Ben, hoping that everything would get better soon after you saved him. You knew everything was going to work out. When he realized you were the only one who had come to help him that day, he would have forgiven you for everything that had occurred in Vought Tower.

Upon entering the lab where he was being held after you easily overcame the guards thanks to the Temp-V in your blood, you stood in front of the box containing him, and your heart melted upon seeing that he was chained and defenseless due to the mask and gas covering his face. Just like the day you and Butcher found him a year prior to his first rescue, he was handcuffed.

As you saw him slowly open his eyes, you took a deep breath and, with your pulse pounding with excitement and anxiety, tore off the door and gently removed the mask from his face.

When you saw that he was awake once more, your heart warmed up, but as soon as he gave you a fierce look that made you shudder in fear, your smile gradually disappeared, and you immediately closed your mouth.

Ben's jaw clenched when he saw you again; he knew that Butcher had deceived him and that months had passed in the lab while you were free. He made a huge mistake by giving you just a single chance to show that you were not like the rest. He should have known people didn't deserve anything.

As soon as he emerged from the box and started walking toward you, your body stiffened, and you remained motionless, hoping for his understanding and sympathy. Knowing full well the hazards associated with taking the final shot of Temp-V, you thought he would recognize your undying love for him.

Ben stood in front of you, and he slowly and cruelly slid his fist through your chest, covering his hand in your blood as you gasped in pain and disbelief. You've got too much to tell him, but his hands reached out and grasped your heart, once caressing your cheeks and hair and erasing the things you were trying to say.

You were struggling to catch your breath as he dropped your heart, and your eyes went blurry with tears and nothingness. Your body then fell to the cold ground. As you watched him leave the room, your vision began to fade, and the last thing you saw were his bloodied hands covered in your blood.

You could never be certain of anything when you decided to love him, but you knew you had forgiven him and didn't blame him. Perhaps you were too naive to imagine he would forgive you, too reckless to believe him, or too close to let yourself burn in his warmth or melt in his affection for you months ago. Maybe you could be happy in another universe, but just not in this one.

THE END.

A/N: I warned you.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys season 4 #the boys x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #soldier boy the boys #angst #heavy angst #soldier boy fic #the boys soldier boy

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milaisreading · 1 year ago

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🌱🩷: Had this idea out of the blue. Don't ask😭

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. In the story the boys will be using he/him when addressing Yn. Requests for this series are open.

⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Masterlist to the Crossdresser AU

'Why are clothes for guys either boring and cheap,or cool, but expensive? This sucks...' (Y/n) sighed and looked away from the shirts and towards the dresses that were a little bit further away from the boy isle.

'Wish I could wear those for one day.' She thought sadly and picked some random hoodies to pay for. It was another period when Ego would let the team breath, so everyone was mostly either at home with their families or out enjoying themselves. (Y/n) decided to be outside the house, since she couldn't really stand being around her adoptive parents for longer than it was needed.

'My son this... my son that. So now they see me. I hate them.' (Y/n) thought to herself when she bumped into someone. The person ended up crying out in shock and dropping the clothes they were holding.

"Oh! I am so sorry for not looking! Here, let me help you." (Y/n) quickly replied and started picking up the various dresses that fell on the floor.

"It's ok! You didn't mean to!" A feminine voice quickly replied and the person started picking up some of the items as well.

'Huh? Wait! I know that voice!' Her eyes slowly widened and she looked at the figure.

"Ah? You are Chigiri-san! Hyoma's older sister, right?"

The red-haired girl blinked and looked over at (Y/n), her eyes slowly widening as well.

"Yes... you are the captain of my brother's team, (L/n) (Y/n). You remember me?" The older asked, surprised that the captain of all remembered her. (Y/n) sent her a sheepish smile and pulled down her mask.

"Well, you and your mom were the loudest cheerleaders." She answered back as they both got up from the ground. The older Chigiri blushing a little at the comment.

"We were both pretty excited to see Hyoma play again, sorry."

"No need to apologize. It was cute seeing it." (Y/n) said truthfully.

'Wish I knew how that feels...' She thought sadly, handing the shorter girl her clothes.

"The dresses look pretty cute."

"You think so?" The redhead asked as she accepted her items, rummaging a little through them.

"Yeah. The pink one looks pretty cute." (Y/n) said, pointing at the floral, pink dress.

"It is! It really is, but... I will have to pass this time." The older said sadly as (Y/n) raised her eyebrow.

"Why? You seem to want it?"

"I already picked some dresses the other day, I just came to look at these today for fun."

Still not seeing the issue, or noticing the embarrassed blush on her face, (Y/n) continued.

"So? There is never enough clothes in my opinion... or my mom's." She chuckled a little. The older Chigiri nodded her head slowly, but frowned right after.

"I used up my budget for the clothes I previously bought. These are way to expensive. Maybe another day I can buy them."

At the redhead's confession, (Y/n) stopped thinking for a moment, then felt like punching herself in the gut.

'Not everyone has as much money as you, idiot! Stupid (Y/n)!' She scolded herself as she looked between the older girl and the clothes she was holding.

"I will just return these and go home. It was nice meeting you, (L/n)-"

"Can... can I look at these dresses for a moment?" (Y/n) interrupted her, and the older Chigiri slowly nodded her head.

"Sure. But what could you possibly want from those dresses-Hey! Where are you going with them?" The girl suddenly asked as she watched (Y/n) walk away from her with the dresses, and to her horror she walked towards the counter.

"What are you doing?" The redhead panicked and ran after (Y/n) as she talked to one of the employees.

"Could you put these dresses on a separate bill from the hoodies? Thank you." She smiled and bowed a little as the woman agreed.

"H-hey, I told you I can't pay for them." The older Chigiri said as she pulled (Y/n) to her level so she could whisper it to her.

"I know."

"And what do you plan on doing now?"

"I will pay for them." (Y/n) blinked a little, thinking her answer was pretty clear.

"What?" The older Chigiri blinked in shock, but before she could say anything, the woman on the counter spoke up.

"The 4 dresses would be 15000 yen."

'15000?!' The redhead looked at the woman in disbelief as (Y/n) nonchalantly nodded her head.

"Do you take credit card?"

At the nod of the woman, (Y/n) took out her credit card from her wallet.

'Is... is that a black credit card?! I only ever saw those in movies!' The older Chigiri thought in shock as she watched (Y/n) quietly pay for their stuff.

"Thank you. Have a great day." (Y/n) called out as she left the shop, the redhead following her close behind.

"You... you are rich? Like, rich rich?" (Y/n) turned to look at the girl and nodded her head, handing her the bag with her items.

"Well, my parents are. But that's not relevant-"

"You literally payed for my clothes! How is that not relevant?!" The girl argued back.

"Or do you do this for anyone you see?"

"Hmm... no. But you are the sister of one of my close friends, so there is no harm in doing so."

The redhead was flabbergasted at his nonchalant behavior, but quickly shook it of.

"Well, then. Let me treat you with some food." The older girl quickly grabbed (Y/n)'s wrist, pulling her towards the food court.

"What? I don't want you to waste-"

"It's not waste. You are my lil bro's captain. We need to keep you well fed for the World Cup." The older Chigiri teased as (Y/n) quickly shook her head and decided to follow her along.

'I could use some food.' She thought, rubbing her abdomen a little.

What neither of them noticed was a small group of high schoolers following the duo ever since they were at the counter of the clothing store, taking pictures of everything.

"They are dating! Told you so! Look how close they are!" A girl said, pouting a little.

"Maan... I wish that was me holding (Y/n)-kun's hand." Another girl added, earning a nod from a boy and a third girl.

"Are you into guys now?" Another boy asked the previous guy.

"Well, you can't blame me. (Y/n)-kun sure has something captivating about himself."

"Shhh! Let's just follow them." The first girl said as she redied her camera for another opportunity to take a picture.

The same evening, (Y/n) was in her room, packing her things for Blue Lock again when her phone rang. She grabbed it and looked at the caller, for a moment, before answering.

"Hello, Reo-"

"Why did you not tell Nagi or I that you are dating?! This is a big mistake, (Y/n)! Football and Blue Lock need to be your priority. Not chasing girls!" Reo yelled as jealousy was seeping through his voice. (Y/n) blinked for a moment, unsure what he was talking about.

"What?"

"Is it because her hair is red? I can fix mine, (Y/n)." Nagi's voice was heard next. What jarred (Y/n) was the genuine hurt and desperation that was coming out of Nagi.

"Haaa?"

Meanwhile, Chigiri threw his phone on his bed. He was close to crying as he started pulling on his hair, not believing what he just saw.

"Why my sister, (Y/n)?! Why not me!?" The redhead never felt as riled up as he felt right now.

"Big sister! Why did you have to go after (Y/n)?!" Chigiri yelled, running out of his room and towards his sister's.

Meanwhile, said girl was happily inspecting the dresses she got from (Y/n). A small blush coating her cheeks.

'He did look cute while eating...'

Poor (Y/n), and the rest of Blue Lock, were in for a rude awakening with the main topic on the internet for the next few weeks.

'IS FOOTBALL REALLY THE ONLY THINK ON THE MIND OF JAPAN'S RISING FOOTBALL STAR?! Captain (L/n) spotted with a unknown redhead girl, breaking the hearts of many fans.'

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #crossdressing #chigiri hyoma #chigiri's sister #blue lock scenarios #reo mikage #nagi seishiro

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cherrygukkie · 5 months ago

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Late Night Encounters Pt. 3| jjk

Word count: 4,114+

A/N: Here is part 3 of Late Night Encounters. I hope you all enjoy reading! please don’t be afraid to give feedback. <3

••••

Questions raced throughout your mind.

How did Jungkook and Gaia know each other?

How was it possible that both of your enemies were friends?

Most importantly… What was their connection?

Her arrival was expected, but her and Jungkook being a pair was unexpected. Everyone knows that you and Gaia hate each other's guts, which is why you thought Jungkook was doing this for some twisted joke…

The history between you and her goes way back not from only being rivals...

Others would assume the opposite because she’s the captain of her team. A title like that is important and it means a lot.

A captain is someone who can guide others with responsibility and authority. They are filled with empathy, understanding and fairness while also valuing others opinions and treating everyone with respect.

Of course from your perspective, her character didn’t suit any of those things.

Her body stole the gap between you and Jungkook and ignored your existence as if you were invisible. As she turns around in front of you, her dark brown wavy hair dances in the air, nearly flying in your face.

You took a step back without a word. You knew it was most likely on purpose.

“Hey kook,” she says, pleased to see him. She wasted no time wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a warm hug. Jungkook, who reciprocates the gesture, returns the same affection that was given.

“Thank you for coming.” The hug lasts a minute until they finally separate, but her hand remains on his arm. “I do appreciate it. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” He seemed happy to see Gaia. His eyes lit up like a puppy once he spoke to her. “You know I’d show up for you.”

After Gaia shows her appreciation by sending Jungkook a pretty smile with batting lashes, she turns around to finally acknowledge your existence.

The eyes of both of you immediately met with a fiercely piercing gaze, refueling the same flames from the last time you locked eyes. After all, this was the first time you were face to face since last year at the tournament.

As the tension lingers on in the air, Gaia breaks it with her words. "Well, hello Y/N.” You couldn't help but notice the judgmental look on her face as her eyes scanned your figure from head to toe.

It reminded you of the same look you shared moments before the buzzer went off. Both teams were divided on each side of the net and you and Gaia were intensely staring into each other's souls, ready to rip each other apart.

“Gaia,” you replied, voice steady and even.

Jungkook’s eyes bounced from you to Gaia back and forth sensing the unspoken tension between you both. He felt it getting heated…

“I see you finally decided to step out of the shadows after a few years…” The grin on her face didn’t even reach her eyes.

Who does she think she is calling that cheap shot a win? Then dares to make it seem like you’ve been embarrassed to show your face?

But it’s fine, she wasn’t the only one with words to exchange. You've been waiting a long time to get this opportunity.

“I see that you're brave enough to face me alone now,” you hissed coldly, “I remember the last time we faced each other, you had to hide behind security.”

You both were referring to the night of the tournament. It was a clashes between your schools and things started to get rowdy, so security had to personally escort your team to the busses.

Gaia’s team came out right after you and let’s just say you weren’t too happy seeing them hold the trophy… and you went face to face with her and gave her a piece for your mind.

“You were angry that night and it caused you to act violently, I get it.” She stepped forward, getting into your personal space. “The truth hurts.”

“The truth?” You retorted sharply, "Everything in your entire life, including that trophy, has been handed to you on a silver platter."

It's not hard to believe that they flashed a stack of cash to keep their school’s reputation, The Most Undefeated School. And that’s exactly what they did, leaving your team no choice but to accept it and move on.

Gaia's eyes narrowed at your words, and she nodded in denial. "I worked hard for that trophy, Y/N. Don't try to diminish my accomplishments just because you can't handle losing."

Jungkook sighed, seeing that things were getting out of hand, and tried to step between you and Gaia. "Come on, guys, let's not ruin the night. Save the drama for later.”

All he wanted to do was steer the conversation towards a more positive direction, but the tension in the air was palpable and neither of you paid attention to Jungkook.

“The trophy is with me, in my possession, in my school's showcase and it’s never leaving.”

“Never leaving?” You question her confidence. “That’s cute.”

“No.” Her lips form into an O as she empathizes her words slowly. “So stop making excuses and accept the fact that your team got kicked to the bottom where they belong.”

You entered defense mode the second you inched closer, perfectly angling your face with hers. “Keep my team out of your mouth or you will get kicked to the bottom, Gaia.”

Her emerald green eyes bore into yours as her lips curled into a smirk with a slow deliberate movement. “Still the same feisty Y/N I see. You haven’t changed a bit…”

Snapping back you say, “And I don’t plan on it either.”

Jungkook steps forward, in an attempt to divide you apart, until Gaia prevents him from getting any closer with her hand.

Surprisingly, he obeys Gaia without hesitation and stands in place with zipped lips. “Y/N is still in her feelings about her loss. Her empty threats won’t change the fact that I have what she wants.”

“You won’t for long and that’s a promise, Gaia.” You make it known before Jungkook briefly interjects again. This time he takes action and grabs Gaia by the wrist.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He takes action, separating you both by pulling her away. “Now isn’t the time for this.”

You glance at him, realizing that he was more than right. There’s a time and place for this and it isn’t here and you weren’t going to let Gaia and her pointless taunts ruin your night.

As you close your eyes for a split second, you exhale putting yourself back at ease. You reminded yourself that you are here to support and represent your team not to have a catfight with Gaia.

Not now.

“I have better things to do, you know, like find a table for my team to sit.” After she shoots daggers at you, she looks over at Jungkook and smiles. “And I’ll see you around, okay?”

•the switch up is insane

He gives a subtle nod and she pats his shoulder before spinning on her heels leaving you and Jungkook alone.

Your arms remained over your chest as you waited for the sound of her footsteps to fade away.

When she’s gone, your hand instinctively reaches for his tie, gripping it tightly. You drag him along with a swift motion and lead him away from the loud crowd.

He attempted to speak while being dragged and his words tumbled out like a rush. Your grip tightens, intertwining with the silk and you yank his tie even harder.

“Shut up.” You were too determined to let Jungkook slip from your grip. He had his chance to speak and he has said enough. Now it’s your turn to talk and just like you wanted, he didn’t say another word.

The forcefulness of your action silences him and from then, he remained quiet until you found a secluded corner and led him there.

“Why?” Is all you ask before you release his tie, sending him stumbling backward from your vicious hold.

He doesn’t respond to your question, he just blinks and stares at you with bewildered eyes as if you lost your mind.

“Jungkook? Hello?” You waved your hand in his face, demanding an answer. “Why the hell are you here? Here with her?”

He scoffs, readjusting his tie that was ruined by the hands of you. “Why does it matter?” Jungkook’s tone grew defensive.

You roll your eyes in disbelief, “You are here with Gaia Watson, the same person who tarnished our school name all on her Instagram. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Who gives a shit? It happened a year ago. Get over it.” Jungkook stuffed his hands in his pocket, then looked in another direction to avoid your face.

You had to remind him. “She’s our rival, Jungkook. You should be ashamed showing up with her.”

"Gaia is your rival, not mine," he clarified, expressing the irritation in his tone. "Now can you not make this a big deal?”

Big deal? It’s a bit too late for that. You already formed your theories about their relationship and couldn’t help but ask.

“I see you clearly don’t care about our school’s reputation.” You use air quotes. “She isn’t your rival. She’s your girlfriend, my apologies.”

“Woah woah…” He instantly puts his hands up in denial. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Gaia and I are just good friends. We’ve been good friends for years.”

Your strained chuckle doesn’t reach your eyes. “Good friends.” Jungkook peeped your sarcasm.

Something about that rubbed you the wrong way, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

Quickly noticing your expression, Jungkook makes a muffled noise. It sounded like he was trying to hide a chuckle.

Your eyes shift to his, which were already on you. "Jealousy isn’t a good look on you beasty…”

The expressionless reaction you gave him was so surreal. You couldn't help but feel a little surprised by his foolish question. You weren’t sure what he was trying to imply, but you don't want to give him the pleasure of any reaction.

“What?" You humed confused and his lips began to morph into an amusing grin.

You tried to play it off as if you didn’t hear him, but in reality his words were crystal clear.

Jungkook gave you a knowing look. “Don’t get your balls in a twist. I’m not jealous, I could care less.”

“You could care less, yet you just tried to give me a lecture about it.” He teasingly shoots up his brows, “I’m not quite understanding.”

Jealousy was out of the frame. It was about how careless Jungkook is when it comes to representing our school.

“Yeah you don't quite understand a lot of things, Jungkook.” You roll your eyes. “I’m not jealous, it’s about our school’s image.”

Smirking, Jungkook shakes his head. “School’s image, huh? Whatever you say, beasty.” It was obvious that he could see right through your act. “It’s your job to care about our schools image, not mine”

•There he goes with that stupid nickname again!

“Y/N?” The sound of a clueless man caused both of you to turn your heads in her direction.

It was your best friend, Yoongi.

You smile. “Oh hey Yoongs.”

“Hi Y/N and Jungkook,” he greets you both with a surprised look.

“Hello, Yoongi.” Jungkook nods and returns the greeting.

An awkward moment of silence passes…

He bit the inside of his cheek, unsure if he invaded for a moment. “Did I interrupt something?” Yoongi asks suspiciously, pointing between the both of you with his finger.

“No, you didn’t,” you answer immediately, moving away from Jungkook. “But I’ve been looking for you.” Taking Yoongi’s arm, you led him away from Jungkook into the crowd of people.

He gives you a confused expression, but doesn’t say anything. He glances in the direction Jungkook was in, an eyebrow raised. “What was that all about?”

You sigh and shake your head. “Nothing.” You continue to lead him through the crowd.

Yoongi’s expression remains mostly blank as he listens to your reply. After a moment of silence he finally speaks again, “He was giving you a hard time wasn’t he? You want me to beat his ass?”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle my own.” You let out a small chuckle and Yoongi does along with you. “If anything I was giving him a hard time.”

His expression doesn’t change from his usual stoic self as he asks his question. “And why were you giving him a hard time?”

“Jungkook came here with Gaia,” you inform him, not pleased with the interaction between her earlier.”

“What?” Yoongi’s eyes widen as he hears you, clearly appalled by the information. “Do they have something going on?” He asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

“I don’t know, but he did mention that they were good friends.” You sigh as you think about it. Was it possible that he and Gaia were really that close?

He raises his eyebrows. “Mmm you don’t seem to be happy about them being friends.”

“Really yoongi?” You give him an icy glare.

It took him a minute to notice the stare you were giving him, he glanced at you confused. “Did I say something wrong..?”

•completely all the way fucking wrong

“I am not jealous of Gaia-”

He talks over you mid-sentence, “You’re prettier than her anyway. You have nothing to worry about as far as competition.”

“Again, I am not jealous. Can we just move on and enjoy the event? I don’t want to talk about Gaia any longer.”

Yoongi gives you a look, then rolls his eyes at your denial. He knew that you were stubborn and there was no point of pushing the conversation.

“Alright, no more,” he says with a chuckle.

“Good.” You grab your best friend's hand, then sigh. “The speeches and announcements are about to start soon, so let’s take our seats.”

He smiles, allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your seats with your team. Both of you sat down and waited for the lady with the microphone to get everyone to settle down.

Things were getting serious and your coach was still nowhere to be found. She has never been late before, so this was completely out of character.

“Maybe she got caught in Traffic,” he suggested, trying to reassure you and make you feel better. Yoongi saw the worry in your eyes as you looked around for your coach.

You smile at your best friend when he pats your shoulder, giving you a comforting smile.

Mindy, seated on your other side, offered you a gentle smile before reaching over to grasp your hand, seeking comfort.

“You got this, don’t worry,” you mouthed, giving her reassuring nod. In return she smiles taking in your words.

It was officially time to announce the players that were scouted this season along with the captain speeches.

Everybody was seated at a table with their teams and additional guests. The lady on the microphone announced that it was time to reveal who was getting recruited this season.

The lady had certificates in her hand along with an envelope. When she began to open it, the crowd fell silent as intensity built.

She raises the envelope, her voice filled with anticipation, and announces, "The very first person who will be joining Team Legacy this season, bringing their exceptional skills and dedication to our team, is..."

The entire venue is filled with a tense silence, as all the teams eagerly await for the announcement. The atmosphere is thick with curiosity, as everyone is curious about the identity of the first new addition to Team Legacy this season.

With heads respectfully bowed, the girls sat around the table with their eyes closed and hands clasped tightly together. Everyone was fully aware of the importance of the moment for Mindy. Team Legacy was her dream team.

“….Mindy Bowie!” She finally announced, reading the name aloud from the envelope.

The entire venue explodes with applause as Mindy stands up, a stunned look on her face.

Everyone including you cheer her on, beaming with joy as she starts to make her way towards the stage. She seemed more uplifted than she was earlier when she spoke to you at the bar.

Mindy had that look of confidence she always carried in her face, the confidence you always admired. You clap along with the crowd with a proud smile on your face, knowing that she would absolutely kill it.

Sneaking a glance around the venue, you saw Jungkook sitting with Gaia and her team and he was surprisingly clapping for Mindy too.

His eyes landed on you as briefly made eye contact with each other, then you turned your focus back to the stage.

The lady on the microphone and the coach of team legacy greeted Mindy with a warm hug and a proud smile.

She takes the microphone and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down her overwhelmed excitement. “I can’t put into words how I feel right now, but I will say thank you. Thank you to my amazing team, my coach and my parents for believing in me and fighting for my dreams with me.” Mindy chuckles, still in shock of her dream coming true.

“And as for being recruited, I'm so honored to be joining Team Legacy, and I promise to bring my skills and dedication to the team. I can't wait to start this journey and contribute to the team's success.”

She smiles and holds up her certificate and the venue buzzes with excitement as they clap for her even louder this time.

Once Mindy and other girls finish with their speeches, the audience erupts into applause, cheers, whistles, celebrating the girls once again.

Yoongi can’t hide how much he admires Mindy too. ”I think she’s better at speeches than you. You should learn a thing or two from her.”

You instantly shook your head at the thought of you up there in front of all these people. “Oh me and my social anxiety could never…”

Many girls from other teams were successfully recruited into the teams they had hoped for. The room was filled with joyous celebrations as players hugged their loved ones, their faces beaming with excitement. Friends and family members cheered and took pictures, capturing the memorable moment.

🏐🥊

All the recruitments and speeches were finally done. Mindy was surrounded by the girls hugging her and clapping her on the back.

You finally got the chance to wrap her in a warm heartfelt hug and graduate her personally. “Congratulations. I am extremely proud of you, girl,” you whispered, your voice full of admiration.

Mindy pulls back slightly, her eyes glossy from the tears of joy forming. “Thank you… that really means a lot to me.”

“I’m impressed,” your coach says, amazed.

The unexpected sound of her voice leaves you all momentarily stunned. You turn around to see her standing there, a proud smile lighting up her face.

She chuckles, “Team Legacy? Not bad, senior.”

In an instant, everyone rushes over to her, and hugs her pleased to see her. She returns the love and affection, hugging everyone as much as she can.

“When did you get here?” Mindy asks, still processing the coach's appearance.

“I’ve been here since they started calling people on stage.” She squeezes her arms around all the girls. “I’m sorry for being late, but I couldn’t miss this important moment.”

The group hug separates and all eyes are on your coach as she continues to speak, “I would never ever miss something like this no matter what, okay? And I got stuck in damn traffic and my phone was dead-” Coach takes a moment to breathe and relieve the stressful process it was to get to the venue.

“Again, I apologize for my tardiness. But I am here now and ready to celebrate and congratulate our newest member of team legacy.” Coach nudges Mindy’s arm with a wink on her face.

“Congratulations babe.” She hugs Mindy personally, showing her love. “I am so proud of the player and woman you are becoming. You deserve it.” They both pull away.

“Thanks coach. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Mindy smiles gratefully.

Coach pats Mindy on the back, "No need to thank me, you put in all the hard work. I'm just here to guide you.

Mindy nods, "I know, but your support and encouragement made a huge difference. I'll always be grateful for that."

Coach smiles, "You're welcome. Now, you girls can carry on celebrating. I am going to celebrate with a drink from the bar.”

She walks a few steps ahead of you, her confident stride and broad smile evidence of her pride and happiness. "Mindy and Y/N come keep me company.” she calls out, gesturing for you to follow her.

With no hesitation, you and Mindy follow her towards the dimly lit luxurious bar. The three of you slide onto the plush read leather stools. Your senses are immediately awakened by the mingling scents of alcohol and polished wood.

She orders sparking water for you both and whiskey for her. Shortly, the drinks are placed in front of you and you grab yours.

“Cheers to a fantastic season!” She takes a sip, savoring the moment. Then, she turns her attention to you and Mindy, her expression growing more thoughtful.

“How do you girls feel about this season?” She asks, her eyes curious.

You speak up, “I think the season is going very well and it will continue to do so.”

Mindy nods in agreement, “I’m with Y/N on that. This season has been our very best because we’ve pushed ourselves harder than ever before.” She glances at you and smiles, “I know that you girls will be fine without me.”

Coach sighs, “And that’s exactly what I wanted to talk about with both of you.” She looks at you and Mindy, her expression serious. “Mindy, you just got recruited and that means you’ll be leaving soon. How do you feel about that?”

That was a pretty good question. Mindy was officially recruited to Team Legacy now and like your coach said that means she will be leaving and you'll no longer have her as a captain anymore.

Mindy shifts in her seat, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass. “I’m excited, of course. It’s a great opportunity. But… I’m also worried about leaving the team. It’s been my family for so long.”

Coach nods, her gaze steady. “I understand. It’s a big change for everyone. You’ve been an excellent captain, Mindy. Now it’s time for the next step.”

Mind tries to smile, though there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Thanks… and I know it’s time for the next step. I’m just trying to prepare myself for it.”

Then she turns to you. “And you? How do you feel about Mindy leaving? Think you can step up?”

The question catches you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise. “Me? Step up as captain?” Mindy chuckles when you point to yourself.

You as captain? You wondered how things would be if you had that title. That would be a change, especially for you.

Coach nods and watches you intently as you blink, feeling the weight of her question. “Of course I think I can step up. I’m just shocked that you chose me out of all the girls.”

Her expression softens, a smile spreading across her face. “You’ve shown great leadership this season. I have no doubt you’ll make an excellent captain.”

“Also you had the second most votes for captain,” Mindy adds in before taking a sip of her drink.

You glance at Mindy, who grins at you over the rim of her cup. “Second most votes, huh?” you mutter, trying to wrap your head around the idea. “That’s not bad…”

“Not bad at all,” Coach replies with a wink. “Looks like the team believes in you.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small smile forming on your lips. “I guess they do.”

As you sip your sparkling water, your eyes wander to the back of the venue where Jungkook and Gaia are standing close together, deep in conversation. They’re laughing and leaning in, clearly enjoying each other’s company. The way Gaia lightly touches Jungkook’s arm and the way he smiles at her makes your stomach slightly twist.

You couldn’t tell if it was your hatred for both of them or something else…

You try to focus on the conversation at hand, but your attention keeps drifting back to them. You watch as they walk out, side by side, disappearing through the glass double door.

Jungkook had told you they were good friends, but seeing them together makes you wonder if there’s more to it.

To be Continued....

@coralmusicblaze @hobismoon @tumeperds @binniethegiant @xumyboo @babycandy111 @btspurplesky @bangtans-momma @snkyuv @busanbby-jjk @sublimewitchdreamer @seulrene @seokjingrande @junecat18 @babybella337

#jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook imagine

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ooooo-mcyt · 29 days ago

Note

There seems to be a running theme with honor and “honorable” kills. Gem and Pearl, scar/jimmy and Grian, even Cleo and bigb with the betrayal. I’m interested to see how the alliances are torn/made with this

Also gempearl divorce

I think the focus on "honorable" kills in many ways comes down to the characters' desire for basic agency.

There aren't many choices anyone can make in this game. They have to play, they have to die. They don't get any choice over being here, over the game mechanics, over their inevitable fates. Any mark of agency characters get is in little things. How they choose to react to things, managing to scrape up some semblance of a 'win' for themselves, or being able to die on their own terms.

Most things in the series can be read through this lens of agency, but the "honorable kills" theme is one of the biggest ones.

Gem knows she has to die, it's part of the game, but there was something traumatic about the end of Secret Life from her perspective. Her team was strong, and then it wasn't, sustaining an injury they couldn't recover along, but continuing to drag themselves along as every single option and choice they thought they had was gone, and Gem died alone, two against one. This season she refuses to have that agency taken away from her, and she resents Pearl for trying, for refusing to give her an honorable fight.

The reason killing Impulse got to Ren so much is because Ren prides himself on his honor. Ren's never truly had much choice in his own life, but one thing he can always choose is to have principals, is to stick to his sense of honor. We see Ren do something he deems dishonorable and immediately make excuses, craft a narrative in which he was led to it, in which it wasn't his fault, in which he never would have done it on his own. Ren creates a boogeyman so he doesn't have to face the thought that his honor can fail. So he doesn't have to face the fact that the desperation of this game can take away one of his only ways of control in his own life.

Grian, when victim to 'cheap' kills, feels like it's a violation of his personal agency as well. He has a chance in a fair fight, or against a well laid trap, and when the kill is silly, well, usually he lets those happen for the bit. But a cheap kill isn't something that can easily be avoided, and it makes him feel helpless. What does it mean if someone can just kill him and he doesn't even have a chance to stop it? Furthermore, Grian practically offered to let Scar in specific kill him, and if Scar took him up on it, that would have been Grian's choice. But instead Scar turned him down and then went for the 'cheap' kill anyways, as if Scar was trying to make him as powerless as possible (scar wasn't, of course, but it must have felt like it)

People locked in an endless looping death game want to be able to feel like they have a choice, like they have agency, and they don't feel right when the little ways they can keep that agency are taken from them.

#trafficblr #traffic smp #wild life smp #it's a traffic jam

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noelwife · 11 months ago

Text

Tw: sex on call, masturbation and slightly sensitive topics, nothing too much though (English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes)

The air in the bathroom was humid and the windows in the room were all foggy due to the humidity caused by the shower Noel took not long ago. The bathroom in that hotel was not quite cheap and smelled like a lot of money, which the man didn't like very much but he couldn't do anything about it as his company decided the hotels where the team had to stay while traveling for the matches. Noel lazily dried his short hair and tied a towel around his hips that didn't cover much as he left the warm environment he had created in the bathroom. He hated these rooms, he found the windows huge with a view that was too beautiful, all the furniture too expensive and he didn't even want to think about that bed so unnecessarily large for just one person. Noel took the phone from the cabinet where he had put it to charge and then lay down on that soft bed while he entered the password for his phone. Oh, his wife had texted him. Noel smiled slightly, and thought about how beautiful it would have been if his beloved wife had also come, but unfortunately she refused because she too had commitments and duties at work. Noel quickly opened WhatsApp and then clicked on your contact where a photo and a voicemail from you had been sent. The man expected them to be one of your usual photos where you sent cute photos of your cats, or of the cookies you had baked with the shape of a little heart on them(also sometime with some dick shapes), your plants or that turtle that he hated Noel so much. He didn't know how to feel about that photo you sent him, but it seemed like his cock spoke for him, with the way it throbbed under that white towel. You looked just gorgeous in that photo you sent him, without pants and his shirt that was quite big on you, that beautiful lingerie he bought you not so long ago, white with nice lace designs. You were in front of the mirror, the phone covering your face as you lifted your shirt enough to show those beautiful breasts of yours held by the lace bra, your panties were on full display as they highlighted those beautiful thighs of yours that drove Noel so crazy.

"Fuck"

Noel said as he looked at the photo again, he swore his cock felt tight under that towel. Then he quickly clicked the voice you had sent and listened to it while he felt his saliva running out of breath.

"These lingerie are really cute, love, but they feel a little tight."

And then attached underneath that usual emoji of yours

"😋"

You were unfair, Noel knew how much you loved teasing him when he was away from home, he fucking missed you, especially that beautiful tight pussy of yours that fit around his cock so well. You made him needy. Noel placed his phone on his chest and then stared at his hardened cock hidden under the white towel. He decided to repay you with your own coin, he took his phone back and took a photo of himself which I will then send to you. You were in your bedroom while you ate a box of strawberry and chocolate ice cream, while I watched the fourth episode of the house of the dragon, you shifted your gaze to your phone when its noise caught your attention. You placed the little bit of ice cream you had left on the nearby bedside table and took the phone, oh how nice your husband finally answered you, with a nice photo too. You giggled like a teenager and then turned sideways on the bed and replied to the photo Noel had sent you.

"Damn, what a beautiful cock Noel."

You also wanted to write "very coquette" but the message was blocked by the notification of Noel's video call. You accepted the call only to see Noel's face.

"How's my favorite husband doing? Did you like the photo?"

You said jokingly as you giggled a little at Noel's neutral face.

"Good, I'm fine... yes, you were beautiful. as always"

Noel replied calmly, you swore that his neutrality would sometimes kill you.

"...are you still wearing them?...I mean the underwear...?"

Noel asked, while you smiled on the other side of the camera.

"Yes, do you want to see?"

The man nodded as you adjusted the camera from a better angle, Noel noticed that you still only had on his t-shirt while you lay more comfortably on the bed while showing just a little bit of your underwear.

"Nice isn't it?, but it feels a little tight on my breasts, I think. that I got the wrong size"

I say as I lift my t-shirt and touch my breasts a little to show Noel how tight my bra is.

"Oh fuck the ice cream, excuse me for a moment love I have to put it back if not then it's a mess"

I say as I get up leaving the phone in the place where it was before and putting the ice cream back in its cold environment, I quickly return and take the phone back. Then she noticed with surprise that the perspective of Noel's room had changed. The view was lower and made Noel's abs more visible... and not only that,she also really noticed Noel's cock which was unfairly covered by that damn towel.

"What a surprise Noel, you left not even three days ago and are you already so needy?"

You say jokingly as you put the phone in a little better perspective while you take off Noel's t-shirt leaving you only with your white lace underwear.

"Do you want to see a little more love~?"

Noel doesn't answer you but noticing how he is about to get up so I can take off the towel you interpret it as a yes

"Already so hard for one miserable photo?"

You say when Noel's cock appears in plain sight in front of the camera, you almost missed holding it in your hand. I took off your bra, letting your breasts come out of the tight fabric.

"Yeah, it was a little tight, they left some red marks on me, look."

You say as you showed the red marks to Noel, then snorted a little too. for the relief of being free from that annoying bra.

"When you get back I want to try a good titjob on you, can I?"

Noel nodded as he thought about your beautiful tits that will squeeze his cock, damn if he wanted you to. Noel was never against things you suggested doing with him in the bedroom, as long as they weren't dangerous so he was more than okay with it. He came out of his thoughts as he noticed you taking off your panties and picking up the pillow on Noel's side of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

The man asked a little confused.

"I'm having some fun while my dear husband is so unfairly away from me to please his dear wife"

I say jokingly as I grind against his pillow. Noel swore he was running out of air, it was all too much for him, he hadn't even noticed when she started grinding his cock up and down.

"Would you like it to be your thigh,mhm?"

You say teasing Noel a little as the man only responded to you with a grunt as he masturbated faster. As you continued to swing on his pillow you watched him from the camera, how beautiful his abs were so well worked, maybe you should scold him for not drying his hair yet, you thought to yourself, later maybe.

"Fuck, I'm coming."

You smiled as you you continued with your movements and took one of your breasts with one hand and played with it a bit.

"Yes?, good boy."

Noel was the first to come, with thick streaks of cum while his legs trembled and his breathing was a little irregular. He didn't like coming while masturbating because he didn't find the sensation quite as good as coming inside you. Shortly afterwards you too had your release as you trembled on that pillow, you were so cute Noel thought, and automatically started pumping his cock again. Yes, when he comes back he will make sure to fill up his dear wife with his sperm.

#noel noa #noel noa x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock

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mistressoftherant-blog · 5 months ago

Text

TUA Finale

Spoilers below for the Umbrella Academy final and my not so positive opinion of it.

Why did anyone on the writers team think it was a good idea to have Lila and Five do that?!

I already didn't like Lila for the stunt she pulled with the kid, making Diego get attached to a boy he would never see again and then dropping the bombshell that she was pregnant. I was already a little mad that Five ruined Diego's breakout plan from the asylum, getting him stuck with a needle, put in a straitjacket and locked in a padded cell.

I never appreciated the fact that both of them call Diego dumb constantly (nor the fact that the show has dumbed him down significantly since season 1). The body shaming from Lila was also uncomfortable.

But this... this was a whole new level of awful. And because it was the end of the season and they were all dying, Diego just had to accept it and move on?? Like this was shoved in at the end for a bit of cheap drama.

Cheating is not the answer to feeling unhappy in marriage, especially not with your husband's brother. Especially not when you have three young kids. I really wish Lila could have just been a friend to them rather than in a relationship with any of them. It always bothered me how the writers basically erased Patch and then had Diego move on with Lila like what they had had was nothing, when her death was such a massive moment.

And it was despicable behaviour from Five, especially the way he acted towards Diego in his in-laws home (Or his own home, I wasn't quite clear on that). He's always been condescending and arrogant, and treated Diego in particular in a pretty shitty way, but I always accepted that he was a well-written character. This move destroyed that.

Plus, there is no getting around how weird it was age wise. Five is a man in his 60s mentally (actually, would he be in his 70s seeing as he said he was 62/3 in the beginning of the show and then they spend 7 years trapped?) and a teenager physically. It's creepy. Majorly creepy. Expecially as the writers basically threw this in because they decided everyone needed at least one love story. Which is not true. Platonic stories are just as important narrative wise, and in real life. Also odd vibes that Five's actor would have pretty much just turned 18 when they filmed all of that.

Also, did they just forget that Digeo has a stutter?? I thought for sure that he was going to stutter when confronting Lila and Five as that was a big emotional moment which tends to bring his stutter on or make it worse. But, nope, no stutter at all. (I also feel like Lila was quite patronising when Diego was stuttering last season, though that may just be me reading too much into it as I never liked her character.)

They also seemed to forget Lila's abilities. They made her stupid powerful, (and yes, call me petty, but it pissed me off that they introduced someone who could steal all of their powers and who was basically an extreme, overpowered, not like other girls character), but didn't keep it consistent. Why could she use Viktor's powers in the final fight, but no one else's? Couldn't she have just teleported them into the building instead of needing to dig the knife in deeper for Diego by saying how much she needed Five?

This season was a hot mess, and I have so many gripes with it. There were some good points, like Jean and Gene were fun antagonists, and the Diego and Luther brotherly relationship was great, but none of that can redeem just how awful it was overall.

#tua season 4 #tua s4 #tua s4 spoilers #tua spoilers #the umbrella academy #The umbrella academy spoilers #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #Five Hargreaves slander #Lila pitts slander #Five hargreeves salt #Lila pitts salt

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madsral · 8 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐖𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 ― 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 ― Say it, he thinks, but it feels like something's caught in his throat, like he's trying to choke it down. I love you. Three words. Simple and straightforward - Price likes things that way. But the truth, of course, isn't easy. That's just the way things are. Notes: Hey, everyone! First time writing, so I'm really excited! Sorry for any spelling errors, English isn't my native language.I used Jill Valentine's nickname - supercop - to refer to the reader (female version). Kisses! John Price went to see her again. Even lying on the chair, with his eyes half-closed, Soap could see his shadow on the infirmary wall. He didn't say anything. Instead, he removed the tangled blanket from himself and folded it over the chair's narrow arm. He ran his fingers over his neck, feeling the knots forming at the back of his head. Then, he stood up and opened the blinds as he had done for the past six days, until the sunbeams infiltrated the room, bringing warmth to his body.

There was an annoying beeping sound. It meant her body was still stable. Soap hoped the tests would prove the same.

"You need to rest," Price said.

"I'm fine," Soap murmured when he saw him approach.

"That wasn't a question, Soap. You look like crap."

The younger man shook his head, unconvinced. He stared at the captain, insolent, challenging him to question him again. "What happened wasn't your fault," Price continued.

"Just keep telling yourself that," Soap stopped in front of the sleeping figure, turning his arm to examine the scratches and bruises accumulating on his skin.

"As a captain, I'd do anything to ensure the safety of my men. You're my team. It's my duty to protect you," Price said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I think about that mission every day. I feel like I failed you all," Price continued, stumbling over his words. "That burden isn't yours. You did your job, protected your partner. Don't blame yourself for something that's out of your control."

The two men fell silent for a few minutes.

Now, if Price were being honest with himself and with Soap, he knew much had already been taken from him by that point; his men, his team, his friends. At some point, Price couldn't remember them as anything but dead soldiers, drowned in their own blood, a bullet mark on their chest. It troubled him because it seemed to hide the best of them.

You can't save everyone.

And this feeling of losing another person, seeing them turn into a memory, never terrified him as much as it did now. Price didn't want to lose her either.

It was Soap who broke the silence: "Do you feel the same?" he murmured, "Does it get better at some point?"

"No," the captain replied, "That's the burden for people like us. It never gets better."

Soap sighed, his eyes burning from all the suppressed hours of sleep. One second passed, then another. The man finally gave in to exhaustion. "I'm going," he said, "If she wakes up..."

"You'll be the first to know," the captain added.

The younger man nodded, satisfied with the response. He looked defeated, and that wasn't an understatement. It was as if he had taken a beating - which wouldn't be entirely wrong. Rest would do him good.

❛ They were at a bar.

The entire Task Force 141 gathered at a dusty table, with grease and cheap beer stains on the wood. "I doubt this glass has been washed in the last decade," Gaz laughed, raising the glass to his face. "To good memories of terrible places and even worse people," he toasted.

"And may this madness end someday," Soap continued, but none of them believed it as they downed their drinks. "I'm still not ready to die."

"If you keep talking so much during the mission..."

"Oh, screw off."

The fact was: they bonded over their similar experiences of being thrown into the desert to survive. To kill - and they had a taste for it; bitter and sweet at the same time. A terrible combination to have in those days and, above all, in that place.

But they knew they could count on each other.

"Don't be reckless."

(Don't die)

"Still standing?"

(You okay?)

And then, suddenly, there they all were - older, new scars on their skin - as they waited for you to wake up after the tragedy. "Come on, Supercop. I'm dying of boredom waiting for you to wake up," Simon said once, "Or just dying."

The captain supposes that's the nature of your relationship: you and Simon were opposite poles of the same coin and yet, a perfect synchrony in the field.

"Do you know why the horse was using the payphone?"

"If you keep this up, I'm going to stick this gun in my mouth and pull the trigger." ❜

Price smiled gently at the memory, leaning back in the chair. His blue eyes rested on your sleeping figure, and the sight made his heart race. It always did, from the first time you smiled at him, to the most recent. He knows why. Hell, of course, he knows why. It took him almost a year to realize what flushed cheeks and clammy hands meant: the lack of air and the intrinsic need to know you were okay.

Perhaps if Price were a decent man - a bit more like the 19-year-old boy who enlisted in the army with naive ideas about justice and life. In that version, he would ask you out, buy a flower, and take you to an expensive restaurant, like the ones he used to see in commercials when he was a kid. He would hold your hand and listen to you talk about whatever you were interested in at the moment (no matter how silly it might seem).

He wonders if you'd wear something green. Green suits you.

You'd get tipsy on wine, and Price would take a sip of whiskey and watch your eyes get a little droopier and a little redder than they were before dinner, and when you'd go home together, he'd resist every urge of his body to smooth that stray strand of hair that gets caught at the back of your head.

Price doesn't know if you want these things; he just presumes you do. He presumes you'd like to go out at night, wear something pretty, and feel someone's touch. And he presumes you want love - Price wants it too, for all he's never said out loud.

A minute passes.

Price lets his head fall back in the chair. (...)

You smiled at him. Beautiful, hopeful, and said, "Hey, captain."

Skin marked by the sun, gunpowder, and sweat. Full, reddened lips curved into a smile, but whether it was because of him or something MacTavish said, he couldn't say.

Price smiles too. 'That's it,' he thinks. 'I love this woman.'

Still, all he says is, "Hey, soldier."

(...)

Patience is a virtue.

And, like so many others, not everyone possesses it.

MacTavish was one of those people.

Perhaps part of it was due to his extroverted nature, 'Part of the Scottish charm,' he would say, and then you would roll your eyes in a way that Price could swear one day they would get stuck that way. So, it was no surprise that when the captain received the news that you had woken up, Soap was already in the medical wing - and the sound of your voices, jokes, and sarcastic remarks that he would like to find annoying, but the desire to suppress a smile often found its way somehow.

"Why does the food have to be so bad?, he hears you cry, "Nurse!" you say, "I'm dying from neglect here."

Gaz arrives shortly after, followed by Simon and his praises that could easily be mistaken for insults. Price knows that's the skull-masked man's way of showing he cares.

The team was reunited once again.

Price would like to freeze moments like this.

(...) "You're avoiding me," it wasn't a question.

Price should've expected this - sooner or later. You were smart. Too smart for your own good.

A second passes, the door closes behind with a soft thud. "Captain," you continue, pursing your lips, more indulgent than anything else. There she is, he thinks, my tough girl.

"Sergeant," he greets, sliding his calloused fingers over the cigar and placing it on the metal ashtray on the table full of memoranda and telexes, the nicotine still burning his lungs.

"You're avoiding me," you repeated when the captain's eyes met yours for the first time. "If this has anything to do with the last mission…"

Price sighed slowly.

"It was them or us. Women and children," he continued, his voice lowering as if it were coming from a tunnel. "They weren't part of the mission, but…"

"You wouldn't abandon them, I know," the captain interrupted. "I would have made the same choice, Sergeant."

"Wait, what?"

Price let his back hit the upholstery of the chair. He knew this moment would come - the breaking point. The line between calm and storm has always been too short for John Price anyway.

But this was entirely new territory. Dangerous territory.

"So why did you pull me out of the last mission?"

I'm worried about you.

"The doctor said you needed more rest."

I can't risk losing you again.

"Nonsense," you say, walking towards the captain's desk. "John, what's going on?"

Say it, he thinks, but it feels like something's caught in his throat, like he's trying to choke it down. I love you. Three words. Simple and straightforward - Price likes things that way. But the truth, of course, isn't easy. That's just the way things are.

"What's between us, John?"

"That's really…"

You don't let him finish. "At least have the guts to tell me what I did, or are you a coward?"

Coward. That's certainly a word no one has called him before. Not in the army. Not when he became a captain. Never in his life – never. Until today.

Price looks at you once again. His eyebrows are furrowed, his blue gaze fixed on yours until his eyes lower to your clavicle. He's wrapped in a thick layer of cream-colored bandages, which are wrapped below his armpit, above his shoulder, and around his chest.

He feels his breath catch in his throat and remembers your dead weight in his arms. He remembers your blood stiffening his skin, accumulating under his cuticles, buried beneath his nails. It took days to clean up. Days.

"You didn't do anything," he responds coldly. His expression is as stoic as ever, but his eyes are screaming at you. "And don't use that tone with me."

You scoff. "Whatever." The word is cold, and you shake your head, heading towards the door once again. "Enjoy your cigar and paperwork."

But even as his thoughts beg you to keep walking away from him, the captain's arm is still reaching out, his toned fingers gripping your wrist in a sticky grip. He pulls you back, quickly turning his head so he doesn't miss the sudden pink flush on top of your cheeks.

He shouldn't be allowed to touch you anymore, but he craves it. He longs for it; his unconscious mind is entrusted to you. And if you decide to break it in half, he supposes he'll have to fall apart.

Your eyes are masked by a transparent layer of moisture. Tears of anger, he deduces. Tears of anger because he's being cruel to you. He knows he's not being entirely rational. He wants to say the blame isn't yours - it's his. And if you never sought him out again, he wouldn't blame you for that either.

You're stuck in his head, and for all his life, he can't erase you from his thoughts; but he knows he let you in on your own. He was tired of being alone, and you offered him your hand, and he still hasn't let go. He wonders if that hurts you more. He should let go. He really should let go. But he doesn't.

And he doesn't care if you can protect yourself - he knows you can. All he wants is to get you out of this. He swore to himself that he would save you from this shitty world. That he would somehow free you from the shackles of this life because he can't stand to see you suffer because of it much longer.

"I'm sorry," he says. An apology. It's short and sweet - like "I love you" - but much easier to say.

You sigh, your expression softening under his sincere gaze. It's like you're stroking you, warming you to the bones.

"Walk with me?" he asks you.

His grip on your wrist remains as you walk alongside him, until he lets his hand fall back to his side, his fingers just brushing against yours in a weak attempt to feel the heat of your boiling body on his skin.

Price was the one who broke the silence.

"You scared the shit out of me back there," he admits, purposely slowing his pace.

"I'm fine," you reaffirm firmly. "And that must be the first time I hear you say you were scared."

The captain's eyes narrowed. Frustration tightened his voice a bit, but he found it incredibly attractive when he said, ''You never respond the way people expect you to respond.'' The wind blows angrily, making his hair fly. Price could feel the shivers that her scent caused him. "And there are few things that scare me."

Losing you is, he thinks.

His heart beats melodiously, pumping blood and sending some to his cheeks.

"Maybe you're sick. Let's examine you before it completely devours your brain."

He laughs lightly, and she thinks how good it is when he does that. Price's face is always so stern, so cold when they're around other people. It's like it's a secret only she knows.

Price can't remember exactly the next hour - what he might have said, the sounds around him. None of it seemed important to him at that moment. But he remembers her smile and the way her eyes close when she does. The rosy hue on her cheeks because of the cold weather.

Say it. Just say it to her.

His hands touched the doorknob of his office door.

"Sergeant."

Her eyes sought the captain's blue eyes over her shoulder. "Yes, captain?"

"It's good to have you back," he says with that careful, somber voice a second later.

You smile at him once again. "Thank you, captain."

Say it. Tell her.

"You…," he tries again. The words died before they could pass through his lips.

"Yes?"

"You should smile more often."

He doesn't miss how her cheeks became even rosier. His heart skips a beat when she asks, "Why?"

"I love the way you smile," he says simply.

Her hands slid away from the doorknob.

She kisses him first.

Price has a moment outside of his body, as if he couldn't believe this was really happening. Her kiss is gentle, her hands hesitant against his chest, and then somehow they're against the wall of his office.

She places her hands on each side of his face, and the room disappears. He's never been so lost in a kiss before. Then he grabbed the back of her thigh, pulling her up and slamming her against the door again. Their hearts were pounding in their chests, as if the air was being knocked out of them. "Damn," he whispered against my lips. "I want you."

"You're not the only one." He snapped, catching her bottom lip between his teeth, the heat of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. "You get everything you want You need me," he argued, kissing her once more.

#modern warfare imagine #john price x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #call of duty imagine #captain price x reader

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clay-cuttlefish · 5 months ago

Text

Updating the sheet has me thinking about the cameo limbo Vic's currently in, and what DC should do with him.

Vic is in this weird position where I don't really think he should be alive. He's had one appearance that was at all meaningful to his arc and one goofy oneshot since his resurrection, and it doesn't seem like anyone wants to do anything with him other than put him in bullshit spy stuff, so it kinda just feels pointless. Unlike some other ex-dead-mentors, though, it's not like him being around is a *problem* for Renee's development. Killing him off again would just be cheap, and there's no reason not to use him now that he's around. So what do you do with that?

Well. Vic died with his heroic arc complete, having passed on his legacy and made peace with his unfinished business, and now he has to figure out what to do in a world where he doesn't have a history to ground him. As a reflection of both his time seeking a purpose after Hub City and his earliest relationship with Shiva, the answer could easily be "hang out and get into trouble".

See, my annoyance with his current position is because I feel like it's kind of a waste to leave him in a dropped (I think? I might've missed something, but I'm pretty sure the Lois Lane Checkmate stuff has been ditched) team/plotline that kinda sucked, not that I'm upset he's sidelined. As much as I want to see my beloved guy, I don't actually have a problem with him showing up once a year. My ideal status quo for him, short of manifesting my stupid knockoff Birds of Prey pitch into reality, would be something like the handful of appearances in the late 90s/early 2000s where he was wandering around playing poker. No team affiliation, no grand motive, just showing up in backups and cooldown issues between major arcs.

Vic has thrived as a side character in other people's books, and it would open up a lot of possibilities if he was set up in a place where writers can pull him for an issue or two without having to figure out whether any of the Checkmate stuff is still relevant or come up with a great idea for where to take him next. It's not that he couldn't develop further, but I'd much prefer him to stay static as a roaming weirdo than to rehash old arcs or go in a direction that cheapens his existing development. It's fine for him to be a supporting character in the communal toybox now that his story has ended, and he's a lot more likely to stay in people's minds and eventually be a part of something neat if he's hanging around.

That said, there are a few things about where he is as a person that I think would be worth expanding on if he's being set loose into canon to cause problems.

The first is that I want to know how he feels about being resurrected. I'm sure his reappearance would've felt weighty to someone who was a Vic fan when it happened, and focusing on Renee's reaction to him being back in Lois Lane was definitely the right choice, but looking at his appearances as a whole it ends up feeling... almost underwhelming? That might just be because making the spreadsheet broke my brain, but it's something any substantial appearance probably has to touch on. I don't even think it's weird that he's seemingly unfazed by waking up in an alternate universe, unlike some other characters who should probably have more feelings about being resurrected by continuity jank, but I do feel like there's a lot of room to look at *why* he's so chill. Even just as a contrast to a deeper exploration of someone else having a bad time about it, there are a lot of motifs to build from, and there's a lot you could do with how his self-perception has changed after yet another metamorphosis. (Based on the scraps of pagetime he's had, I'd point it somewhere in the direction of "he's been freed from old obligations, blurring the boundary between his Vic and Charlie personas.")

i also think there's a lot you could do with his old struggles with whether he was doing the right thing or just doing violence because he enjoyed it, and how he views himself now that he's stepped into a more Shiva-like role. This isn't a new development for him, but his initial shift into a wandering mentor wasn't something he planned - he initially left Hub City out of necessity, failed to start fresh, then latched onto Helena while seeking purpose. There's some interesting weight to him getting a chance to either have a fresh start somewhere else or return to Hub City without the weight of his history, and instead choosing to fuck around and intentionally get into trouble that has nothing to do with him, without even the excuse of mentorship.

There's also the problem of continuity housekeeping. It's not really necessary for tracking who remembers him since other heroes generally have their post-crisis continuity back, but the vibe of him roaming rather than returning home change a LOT depending on which version of Hub City exists (it tends to depend on Blue Beetle continuity, which is currently fucked), if Tot and/or Myra exist, and how long Vic was dead from their perspectives. Honestly there are a lot of good options here. I love Tot and want him to be a part of Renee's supporting cast, but the idea that Vic's civilian past literally does not exist is incredibly juicy.

Other than that... idk man. Just because I think he's underused doesn't mean I think he has to be important. Use him as a plot device for anyone who needs an annoying guy to make them introspect. Do more goofy oneoff mysteries. Let me write a teamup that sucks. Put That Guy In A Situation.

#clayposts #vic sage #the question #i'm pretty sure i had a point when i started writing this and lost track of it somewhere. ah well

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bellysoupset · 4 months ago

Note

On the LukeBell domestic bliss front, how about a minidisc of Luke just crushing from afar and getting mushy/aroused/take your pick. Like Bell is presenting on backend dev for a work conference and he’s watching her without her knowing and just melting into a puddle and cannot wait to grab her when she’s done?

only if you want, of course.

Your wish. Is. an ORDER

---------

Routine had finally, thankfully, settled for them. After graduation, depression, a head injury, a new job... Finally it seemed like their days were monotone and they couldn't be happier.

It went like this: Lucas woke up at 6 AM to go to the gym, where he usually caught up with Leo, who arrived at the same time as Luke left. Back home at 8:00 AM, he showered and woke up Bell at 8:30 AM, who was always incredibly grumpy first thing in the morning. He got in the shelter always a bit earlier than he was supposed to, a quarter to nine and worked until 5 PM, when he came back home to get dinner ready, since Bella worked until 6:30.

Sunday mornings they both helped in the shelter's kitchen, Tuesday night's Bella had kickboxing classes and during Wednesdays nights, Luke participated of the community baseball team after work and Bella had DnD sessions.

Their routine worked, so Luke was terribly pouty when the baseball game that night got cancelled due to the heavy rain and he was forced to go back home early. He was looking forward to the chance to spend some of his energy and now felt antsy.

Bella's voice was filtering through the front door as Luke unlocked it, stepping inside and shaking the rain off his hair. She was sitting in the living room and raised her eyebrows as she saw him, but whatever explanation Luke had for his early return flew out of his mind as he took in his wife's appearance.

She was wearing an old crop top with bat see-through sleeves, a billion rings, black lipstick and a red choker, as well a cheap vinyl corset and a just a pair of black tiny boxer shorts, which he guessed was because the webcam only was filming her from the waist up.

"So as I was saying, I cast a spell to shapeshift into a fawn," she said in a slightly deeper voice, theatrically moving her hands and laughing as someone in her online game room said "work it girl!" "our Katara is almost as good at the ATLA movie one," "Just as accurate as well-"

"Shut up and roll the dice," Bella whined, but she was smiling and Lucas dropped his apparel bag at his feet, leaning against the doorway to watch her.

She looked so. fucking. hot. The corset was squeezing her waist and pushing up her boobs in a way that made his head spin.

"Two," another woman read the results, "sorry, Eve, you turn into a bull and they spot you immediately."

"Fuck!" Bella cried out and sat back down, pouting. Luke tuned out her game, shutting the door and circling their tiny living room, so he was standing right behind her open laptop in their coffee table. Bella glanced at him, but still pretended she was paying attention to her DM.

"Fuck. You," Luke mouthed, almost resting his chin on top of the laptop, causing Bella to frown and turn her head.

"Why?" she mouthed, while in the chatroom, laughter exploded as her character was chased by angry vampires.

Luke grinned, "I-" he pointed at himself, "Am. Going. to. Fuck. You," he mouthed, clearing it up and Bella's cheeks turned red, but she ignored him, shooing him away with her hand that wasn't showing on camera.

Instead of being shoed away, Luke sat down on the rug so he wouldn't show on camera and nibbled at her fingertips, pressing a kiss to the inside of her palm. She moved her fingers, nails scratching his cheek, then up and getting tangled in his humid hair and Lucas kissed the inside of her wrist.

When Bella didn't hang up the call, he planted his hands on her thighs, leaning in to plant a kiss there...

"Eve, what do you think we should roll for?"

Bella shook her head, seeming to have lost her focus, "I- Uhm-" Luke smiled smugly, trailing his middle and index fingers up as if they were walking on her thigh and sliding them under her boxer shorts- "Guys, I gotta go! Sorry!" Bella exclaimed and she didn't even wait for the response, closing her laptop in a rush.

Luke chuckled, "Sorry?"

"No, you're not," Bella glared at him, before wrapping her arms around his neck and falling on top of him in the rug, "now I was promised something..."

"Only if you do the witch voice," Luke chuckled, grabbing her waist and pulling her up so she could straddle him.

"You're such a nerd," Bella rolled her eyes, kissing him.

#this is nonconsequential af just here so i can establish their routine officially #and bc they're cute!#isabella martinez #isabella martinez-atwood #lucas atwood #no actual smut in this #mywriting

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sgt-scottymoreau · 4 months ago

Text

Only Fan

Summary: The domino effect of accidently sending the wrong link to Ghost lead to a whole adventure and secret being revealed. No one was supposed to know she had an Only Fan account.

Warning: 18+ MDNI, a lot of smut in this one there's still plot tho, implied public sex, multiple partners in a sense

Word: 6.9k // Masterlist

A/N: This fic was inspired by this post a year and half ago. This was really written for the giggle and smut. Probably feels a little OOC for some, or at least not how I usually write the characters in there. But bare with me, when I wrote it I needed to take everything out of the system lol No thoughts only smut! Alright to time to yeet myself by the window!

When she realized what she just sent her lieutenant, she prayed to all the possible known gods in the universe that he wasn't fast enough to have opened the link.

A prayer that reached no one. Because Ghost was already on his phone expecting the answer. So when the link came through he saw it in a matter of milliseconds. The time Scotty needed to hold the message so the option to delete it showed up, then press said delete, it was too long. Add the fact that he also didn't pay attention too much to what was written, it was only once the link opened in his browser that he realized what it was. The link to her Only Fan page. He should have closed it right away and he actually did. Especially after receiving 5 messages in a row from her apologizing and sending the actual link that was supposed to be in the first place and to please ignore the first one. Ghost closed it and tried to pretend it never happened. What Scotty was doing in her free time was her problem, he wouldn't judge. But… That… was not something he expected.

After the incident, Ghost never mentioned this, nor acted differently. Or so he thought. Scotty felt that his gaze was different. Not judgemental, but more like he tried to decipher something. As if he was still trying to figure out how she had been able to hide it from him. Obviously, Ghost wasn't stupid. She could be professional at work. It was just… She didn't give him the feelings to be this kind of person. Scotty looked innocent and shy.

To her defense, she was not innocent or shy. She had her fair share of activities. It was simply that Ghost was intimidating, hence why she might look shy around him. But it was even more since the slip up. On missions, all was fine because work demanded focus. But around base or when the team would go out for drinks… It was so different.

It was precisely after one of these nights that Ghost returned to the link. As much as he tried to forget it, it haunted him. That night at the bar, Scotty wore a tank top that molded her body so much, his throat went dry every time he glanced at her. Her jeans, not different than usual, looked more shaped to her legs… or maybe it was him. The thoughts that crossed his mind at the moment made him frustrated at himself for even thinking about them. She was his colleague and a sergeant, he owed her more respect than those sinfuls thought. Although, she was the one doing sinful things that were available to everyone… He lay down in his bed, in the dark with only light from his phone and the bright page he was on. His eyes were glued on her profile and cover pictures. There was nothing revealing in both. Well maybe a nice butt shot on the cover, still dressed. But it was the eyes in her profile picture. So inviting, so captivating. His thumb pressed the subscribe button. To his relief, Scotty didn't seem to sell herself for cheap. That was nice. She valued herself and he couldn't agree more. If this was the relief, the world that opened to him once he was officially a subscriber was anything but relieving.

He knew so bad he should have only checked one or two pictures, just to put his curious mind at ease and then leave to never

come back again. But… as if the picture of Scotty with spread legs, squeezing her breast together, the selfie angle where he could see her fuck herself with a toy were not enough, he saw the videos. A bulge was already forming in his sweatpants, god he was glad to wear these because his regular pants would have been so painful. Ghost wanted to ignore the video so badly. But his brain was too deep and needed more. His grip on his phone tightened as the other one instinctively went to his underwear. His thumb pressed the play button. The first few words she spoke already had him completely hard. She barely had done anything, only presenting the toy she will be using, but in such a soft manner! His hand wrapped around his dick and stroked it slowly. The video went on: her applying lube in the toy, then on herself, pushing her fingers inside as a warmup and finally she fucked herself with said toy. She wasn't too vocal but the small whimpers and few little moans she made while Scotty was pushing the fake dick inside, faster and faster till her cunt made such sloppy noise, that made him twitch so bad. His heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes glued on the video. He even tried to match her speed, thinking it was him inside her. He came as soon as he heard her whimpers of her own climax. As he calmed down from his high, Ghost realized what just happened, what his mind just thought of. Him inside her. How could he face her again after this?

It has been almost a week and half since the incident. Scotty noticed that Ghost was a little less creepy, yet he seemed more tense when she would talk to him or be a little too close. That one time they were in the car, she was squeezed between him and Gaz. A normal thing. But he was so tense, always avoiding her gaze. She didn't mind much as honestly for her Ghost had brushed this whole incident away and his current behavior was in no way connected to that. Yet, if she was out of trouble with Ghost, Soap on the other hand. She couldn't quite read him, but something felt different with him. He was always the same goofy person with her, always the same easy going. It was the lingering look she caught a few times here and there. The way he would stare. Beside that nothing much, Scotty could live with that. The truth was, Soap was also a subscriber.

He found her page by accident… or well not completely by accident. He found himself on Only Fan after wanting to see more of someone else when Scotty's page showed up in recommendation. At first, he couldn't believe his eyes, he had been so close to text her about it and tease. Instead, just for fun he decided to check. Maybe she had only dumb pictures, trolling people. Not exactly. Soap should also have closed everything, look away. She was his best friend and no matter how close you are, seeing them in such a compromising position was something anyone would have looked away from. Either from respect or embarrassment. But he didn't. He couldn't. He tried to not linger too long on the pictures, despite a growing pressure in his jeans. One picture though… He was glued on. Her leg spread, in some purple lingerie, her hair down, flowing down her shoulders in small waves. Nonetheless to say that what he did was in the same category as Ghost. He felt dirty for doing so, but… it hadn't been the last time he went to her page.

Ghost found out that Soap also was in on the secret by accident. Then again, it was Soap's fault for not being careful. They were both in the gym, training when Soap checked his phone. He made sure that no one could see him, or so he thought, and checked his notification. Scotty had posted a new picture. He knew it was risky to open it here, but she hadn't posted in days. Obviously because she was on a mission. So either this meant she was back home or… That was why he had to check! When the picture fully loaded in front of his eyes, his throat went dry. She was still in the fields taking pictures. "Steaming fucking jesus…" He breathed, mostly because it took guts to do this. It wasn't much. Just her with her jacket half way down, revealing her shoulder and her bra.

Ghost walked behind him at the same time that Soap completely forgot his surroundings. He glanced over his shoulders. His water bottle slipped through his hand, splashing the floor. "Fuck!" He cursed loudly. Soap jumped from his seat, shoving his phone away quickly.

"Hey Lt! Didn't see you there!" He nervously laughed. "Need a hand with this?"

"No." Ghost took the towel around his neck to clean. "The fuck are you looking at during work you idiot?"

"N-nothing."

"Don't play dumb with me MacTavish, that was clearly her Only Fan." Ghost froze. He just sold himself to the sergeant. They both looked at each other, cheeks pink from embarrassment. "Let's pretend nothing happened and let's not talk about this ever again… We know nothing and most importantly she knows nothing."

They held the tongues. Till they started talking about her latest post like it was the latest biggest news.

A few days later, while Ghost was staying late at work, he received a text from Soap asking if he saw the latest video. The lieutenant made sure his door was locked, returned to his desk and looked up his phone. The title: Met a girl at the bar and let her fuck me stupid. He was surprised to learn that apparently Scotty was going both ways, she still had secrets within her secret. His eyes glanced at the reports. They were almost done, he could take a break right? He gulped and pressed the play button. The volume of his phone was just high enough that he would be the only one to hear. The other girl's face was blurred, not that it mattered much to him. The only face he wanted to focus on was Scotty. The girl was fucking her doggystyle, pulling Scotty's hair and slamming in her so hard the noise of her hips on Scotty's butt was as loud as the sergeant's moans. She wasn't kidding when she said fucked stupid. Never he heard Scotty stutter with her words or be unable to speak. Right now, she was being a mess.

"F-fuck… me! H-harder!.... Aaaahh fuck yes!"

"Who's a good bitch?"

"M-me!"

"Fucking hell." He groaned, his pants lifting in his crotch area. Scotty was being so noisy, in a good way. Her moans, her cries when the girl would slam hard or pinch her nipples. Any logical thought took vacations. His hand reached for his belt to slip inside, taking a hold of his now fully erect cock. His eyes closed savoring the new sounds Scotty was making. If only it was him making her screams that way.

"Who's a little slut?"

"M-me… please… use..my pussy! Choke me!"

His eyes flung open at this. The girl did so, closing her fingers around Scotty's throat. The smile of pleasure that drew on her lips sent him even closer to his climax. "You are such a minx, Scotty. Fuck." He moaned, stroking harder. The video was 20 minutes long and at half time, he came hard. Head against his desk he tried to catch his breath. He will watch the rest later. He had to clean the small mess he made. It might be under the desk, but it was still a workspace. As he threw the tissues in the garbage can, someone knocked at the door. His heart jumped in his chest.

"Who is it?" He asked with a shaky breath.

"It's Scotty, I got some papers from Price for you." He cursed internally, that couldn't be worse timing! He went to open the door, sweat still rolling down his forehead into his eyes. There she was standing like an innocent, professional officer. A huge contrast to what he witnessed a few minutes prior. "Everything is alright sir?"

"Yes." He gulped. "You said papers?"

"Oh yes. Here you go. Price also told me to remind you to not stay up too late and catch some sleep."

"Thanks for the advice." On this she left. His eyes watched walk away, not even trying to hide the stare on her butt. "Fuck me, she is going to be the end of me…"

The next posts gave him mixed feelings. He started to question if it was only lust that he was having for her. When she posted a short clip of her titled, I met a fan at the mall and let him play with my tits, he hated it. Why wasn't it him? He should be the one to be touching her like that. However he mentally slapped himself for having such possessive thoughts. "Come on Simon, you can’t blame her for this!" He told himself while looking in the mirror. "Isn't like you are her boyfriend or something." But did he wish that? Maybe…

An opportunity presented itself though. Scotty did enjoy meeting a fan, even if it was out of the blue. Well she was lucky he had been a nice guy, not too creepy. But she kind of wanted to try it again. So she held a live where she announced that anyone of her Tier 1 subs will be randomly chosen to have a special date with her. With one condition, they had to be in England. Not like she wanted to travel or have someone traveling all the way here.

Of course both Soap and Ghost were watching with eagerness. How convenient that there were both in her Tier 1. It was only a question of luck. Lots of luck! She was wearing a pretty laced brat and her hair was pulled in a messy bun. It gave a very relaxed yet sexy vibe. "Ok lovelies. Time to spin the wheel and see who is gonna be the lucky one… Or what if…" She bit her lip. "What if I invited two of you? Depending on the winners, maybe we could have a little fun together. I always wanted to try a threeway."

Ghost groaned in frustration. If he was the winner, he wanted her for himself. Well that is if she didn't turn him down… But at the same time, how he could deny her something she wanted. Scotty impatiently waited for the result of the spinning, when she clapped her hands with a huge grin. "Alright, the first winner is O'MalleyB7-1! Time to slide in my dm sweetie."

On his side, Soap was laughing. That was him! What were the odds! He couldn't wait to text Ghost about it. Hopefully his lieutenant wouldn't be too jealous. "And for the second…. Hoemoans! You know the drill." God that name sounded like the worst username. Well Scotty knew she could handle anything, if this one turned out to be a creep, no problem. She can take care of that.

Ghost's jaw almost dropped. Faith and luck were a blessing. A minute later, Soap texted him the news. Ghost felt some relief to know that it was both of them who won. He hated the idea of some weirdos getting close to her. They kept their identity a secret till the end of the meeting.

The day, or more evening, finally showed up. Scotty dressed as her usual. No need for an overly sexy outfit, especially when she might not keep any clothes for long anyway. This was such a risk, but she was still excited. If she brought home people she met at the bar one time, this was sort of the same thing. The pub she chose for the meeting was as she expected busy. Not overly busy, but enough that it would be stupid to attempt something in front of so many witnesses. She double checked her message about what the two men would be wearing to be recognizable. Once she was sure, she sent them a message to say she will be there in five minutes. Make sure she could eye them from far and assess the situation. From the corner, her eyes searched for the two men. Her heart skipped a beat when she was sure to recognize someone. Tall and squared, with a mask? "It can’t be!" Scotty whispered to herself. Panicking, she checked again the description the two men gave and eyed the familiar figure. Till he moved slightly aside revealing another familiar figure who marched the description of one user.

Panic switched to fear and embarrassment. Soap and Ghost were the one who won the random encounter? They were her subs? How long have they been? They did not jerk off to her did they? "Oh fuck, oh nonononono!" She had to get out of here before they noticed her. How could she sleep with them! Soap, maybe. There were good friends and he was good looking. But Ghost? He was her superior! A superior who was watching her when she would be posting nudes and videos. Her face was burning hot. She needed fresh air now! Back against the wall, she crawled out of there, heading back to the train station.

"Think she will show up?" Soap asked, finishing his glass.

"I doubt it. Or if yes, she most likely saw us and ran away." It broke his heart a little that she would but it was understandable. Part of him started to feel really dirty about that. It felt like such a huge disrespect to her. Although their plan in the end, would have just to pay her some drinks and have a good laugh. Definitely not pressure to do something she didn't want to do. Their phones bipped at the same time, both receiving the same message from her. Sorry I can't make it, I got a last minute call from work, I'll be out of town for a few days. Sorry, lovelies. The last part, Scotty wrote it to make sure that they never figured out that she knew.

Another week has passed since this. Neither Soap or Ghost commented negatively on her page. It was mostly assumed, she had a great time but did not share it at the request of the fans. The other thing was that she stopped posting for a whole week. She would usually do at least a few pictures a day or every two days, depending if she was on a mission or not. Now it was radio silent. Scotty hoped that it was all a fever dream that she never saw them at the pub. And she sort of started to believe it. Till Soap came clean. He admitted all from the very beginning, without mentioning Ghost. Even pretend that whoever she saw at the pub with him was not the lieutenant. Back against the wall, Scotty groaned, face hidden in her hands. "That's fucking great…. Ugggh!"

"Is that so bad?" It was a little awkward and difficult to find the right words.

"Not bad, just embarrassing. Fuck, you saw things I didn't want anyone from work to see. Like how are we supposed to work together now?"

"Come on Scotty, I have been following you for a few months now and did you notice any change. Don't we still kickass together?"

She smiled shyly. That was true. Nothing drastic happened in between. Maybe she was a little too dramatic. "Fair enough. It's just so strange that I'm fine with complete strangers, but with you it's like why am I so embarrassed by this?"

"Because we are friends. Don't sweat it, it's not like you also had fantasies about me." He laughed, but stopped death when he saw her face turning red and her eyes avoiding him. "No fucking way? You do?"

"Go fuck yourself, Soap!"

"Only if you help." He teased getting slightly closer to her. His chest pressing on her arm. Her hand was dangerously close to his crotch. She swore he did that on purpose, so she could feel the small hardness.

"You really get worked up with nothing, MacTavish." She purred.

"Well I'm curious to know what I was doing in your fantasies now. After everything I saw, there's many options. Choking you?"

"No, that with someone else." He was taken aback by this answer. But her grabbing his balls through his pants gave him a reality check. "Although, having sex while at work is one of them. You know the fear of being caught by Price… or Ghost. Wouldn't it be terrible if they found you ball deep inside me?"

"Fucking hell, how the fuck did I never knew this side of you!" By now Soap was so hard, his cock was begging for space. Scotty winked at him and dragged him to a storage room. They were in one of the least used parts of the base, if anyone caught them it was only because they needed to access this very specific storage room. Which was in itself barely used. Door barely closed behind her, Soap was already all over her. Kissing her lips as if he would never taste them ever again, his hands holding her against him, running everywhere under her shirt. His hips humping on her. If he could fuck her without wasting time removing clothes he would. But these damn pieces of clothes were in the way. His breath was heavy and warm against her neck when he finally broke the kiss.

"Someone is more excited about this than I expected." She chuckled. Her hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him off revealing his bare chest, warm to the touch. She ran her fingers over him, his muscles twitching at the soft lingering.

"Like a dream come true." Soap hoped that Ghost would forgive him for apparently being the first one to get her. Scotty kneeled in front of him, hands caressing his tight from down up to release his cock. It flipped out so hard and ready to be used. Soap moaned softly in relief. She smiled amused. Scotty then reached for her pocket and handed him her phone. He looked surprised.

"I won't ask you to be part of this, but…" She bit her lip. Soap was so weak to this that he was ready to say yes to whatever she wanted. "Can you at least take some pictures or videos of me? That's gonna make some good content."

"Yes!" The word got lost in a groan as she started to stroke him, slow and steady. She licked the tip, pressing her lips on it before taking half of his cock in her mouth. "Oh fuck!" He let out holding himself to the shelves next to them. She knew exactly what to do, he was scared to come too fast. He had to control himself because there was so much more he wanted. He didn't have to wonder how far she could go, she showed her throat capability in the past, but how did it feel? He craved that so bad. His grip let go of the shelves to hold the back of her head and pushed Scotty even deeper on him. Her nails dug in the fabrics of his pants as she allowed herself to relax to take him till her nose touched his skin. That deserved a picture. As much as he enjoyed this, he pulled back.

"Don't want to spoil the fun time yet. Get these pants off. Now."

The spark of lust that glimmered in her eyes when he said that. To wonder how she kept it so straight when she was getting orders from her superiors. Scotty did as told. Soap handed her back the camera so he could get a hold of her thighs. She didn't have to ask what he would do, it was far obvious when kneeled and plunged his face in her cunt. He ate her out with so much greediness. She could barely keep her voice down as his tongue worked around her clit, pushing in and out. Going slow and fast the next seconds. Scotty had to hold herself on the shelves as her body was sinking down overwhelmed by his work. "Aahh.. fuck Soap! So good."

"Say my name. Real name." He said between two gasps of air.

"Hmmm… Johnny, please don't stop!" His name sounded like a blessing coming from her. Holy shit he never thought that he would enjoy this that much. Soap had heard her moans before in videos, but live? In person? He couldn't get harder than he was! His cock twitched every time his name crossed her lips. Scotty reached her climax, almost letting herself fall from her body releasing the tension that builded. Soap grabbed her by the legs lifting her up and keeping her in place against the cold metal shelves. He took the phone back from her hand.

Scotty didn't have time to complain, he pushed his cock inside her still sensitive cunt. A loud moan echoed in the room. "I'm sure your fans will enjoy that view." Soap smirked. After a few snaps, he threw the phone on the shelves, held her with both hands and roughly pounded her. Scotty wrapped her legs around him for more support but she still had to hold into the shelves to not fall on the ground from his hard fucking. The shelves creaked under their weights: some of the boxes moved from the initial position, papers fell to the floor. They had no care in the world, someone might as well walk in they wouldn't have flinched. They were both too drunk on each other to think about anything else. Soap buried his face in the crook of her neck, panting hard. He was so close. "Come on Scotty, say my name one more time!"

"Johnny!" She moaned. She grabbed into him as she felt her own climax about to release. "Harder Johnny, I'm so close! Johnny!"

That is all it took for him to spill himself inside her. That was the best fuck he had in long time. They stayed in each other's arms the time their heartbeat would come down. Sweat rolling down their back, they looked at each other before laughing. None of them could believe they just fucked their best friend.

Later that day, Ghost was back home. After a quick meal and a shower, he was lazily watching tv. Another boring night. He caught himself checking his phone quite often for any notifications. Nothing new. Not that he desperately wanted more, but he hoped that the fact that Soap and him knew her secret wouldn't stop her from doing what she seemed to love. Maybe after her next post he should quit. Just make sure she was still up to do it. It was close to midnight when he heard the notification. She had posted! Ghost was a little happier than expected. Before looking at it, he promised himself that this would be the last time.

He read the post. Sorry for the wait, work was in the way. And so was my workmate ;). He frowned. What workmate? Ghost carefully looked at the pictures attached to the post. God, she looked gorgeous in it. But, it was the whole workmate thing that did not sit well with him. It had to be someone from the military but who? The base was so big, it could be anyone. At first, he recognized the location, which meant she had no fear of doing this at work. Of course the man getting all the best of her wasn't shown. Not his face. But his forearms were… Ghost was on the edge of his seat. "Fucking bastard…" He raged. He would recognize this tattoo anywhere! The lieutenant never dialed Soap's phone this fast before.

"Hey Gho-"

"What the fuck Johnny!" He cut him off. It was rare to hear the lieutenant yell or lose his cool. "You and Scotty fucked at the base?!"

"Oh shit you saw the pictures…"

"Yes you fucking dumbass! Didn't you think I would? How could to do this!"

"Hey easy Lt! You are acting weird now. Come on, a week ago you would have been totally fine with this and now you all worked up. The hell."

"Shut up Soap! You know I have a crush on her and you go play with her in my back."

"Wait what? You what now?" Ghost's words rang back in his head when he realized what he just confessed to Soap. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. That was why he always tried to keep his emotions in check. The things that could be said under the influence of anything… "Ghost, did I really hear that right? You fancy Scotty!"

"Soap, you keep this for yourself or I swear you will regret this."

The next morning, Ghost was rather silent with both Scotty and Soap. Not that Scotty saw much different than usual. Soap on the other hand, was a little awkward. He was just having a casual normal conversation with her and he would see Ghost in the back eyeing him. The death glare through his mask, it was bone chilling. Scotty never noticed any of this and went on with her regular schedule. She hit the gym around the afternoon. It wasn't busy. Only a few people there. She did her usual reps for two hours before allowing herself a quick break. She scrolled on her phone, catching up on some comments. After posting not so revealing pictures of her flexing in the mirror, she got some requests for a more naughty setup around the gym. Maybe she could try? Looking around, she was almost alone, the storage room was barely used by anyone. The open gym was ok enough that when she had a chance she took a few selfies, emphasizing on her cleavage. Hard to get anything with a sports bra.

As soon as the coast was clear, she nonchalantly made her way to the storage room. It was filled with some extra weights that were not used and some towels. Leaving the door just slightly open, her phone still could snap pictures without flash. Her tank top rolled up revealing her stomach, the zipper of her short open and pulled down so slightly you could see her v line. Whatever was sexy enough for her fans. Would she dare to go even more than? Her hand slided down to her cunt. She started to record.

"Apparently working out doesn't stop the horniness." She chuckled, filming her fingers rubbing herself. Focused on what she was doing she didn't notice the door opening behind her.

"Are you fucking serious!" A familiar voice made her jump. She held down a scream, but she still dropped her phone. She scrambled to get it back and stop everything. Her heart was pounding fast in fear. Ghost was standing there, with an expression she couldn't tell with his mask. Sending him the link to her OnlyFan had been embarrassing, finding out he was a subs and was about to meet her had been mortifying. But him catching her in the act of touching herself? Where was Death to take you when you needed it the most! Ghost closed the door behind him, plunging them in the dark till he turned on his flashlight from his phone. The atmosphere felt scary. "Because being fuck by Soap wasn't enough, you have to have to touch yourself at work. Fucking hell."

"Y-you saw… Oh fuck right…" How could she have forgotten! Ghost closed the little distance between them. Scotty was now stuck between the wall and him. He towered over her in such a menacing way… Why was she so turned on by this! "It was just a fling with him. Nothing serious! We just blew some steam, that's it!"

"I don't give a shite about it." He pressed himself even more against her, her breasts squeezed on his chest.

"L-lieutenant… you are a little too close." She bit her lip. Her hips instinctively rolled. His hand grabbed into her waist to keep her in place. His forehead rested on hers. Ghost was trying so hard to keep control of himself.

"Why did it have to be him and not me? Won't you give your lieutenant a chance?" He held her up with his knee raising between her legs, his other hand cupping her cheek like he was about to kiss her. His thumb brushed close to her throat making up her whimper involuntarily. Ghost chuckled and pushed his knee even more. Scotty grinded on it, her body being sparked up. It was not that she didn't want to give him a chance, she simply wasn't sure that he would truly be up for this. But she also feared that giving in to him would… mix up her feelings more than they were. She could finally get close to him, touch him. He was only wearing a t-shirt, his arms naked and muscles tensing under touch as she grabbed into him. He was probably on his way to train when he noticed the door and went to check.

"Maybe I gave him a chance because he doesn't intimidate me." She moaned.

"Is that so? I won't bite you know. Unless you want me too." That was the thing about following her account. He got to know all the secrets that would get worked up. She could try to hide it, but he knew. All of it. "I wonder if I could also fuck you stupid. I bet Johnny did not."

Scotty imagined this situation. Many times. And none were as close as this! Nothing could compare to the real thing and she was about to give in even easier than she gave in with Soap. "I bet you won't either." The sergeant taunted him.

She was playing with fire. Ghost took her challenge on. "You like being choked, don't you?" He said this more as an affirmation than a question. His fingers wrapped around her neck, slightly pressing. His hand that was resting on her waist ran down to plunge in her shorts. She was already so wet he easily pushed two fingers in. Scotty squirmed under his touch with a weak moan. "Keep it low sergeant, you don't want anyone else to show up."

His fingers pumped carefully out first, he savored to be able to touch like this at last. All these videos where he watched doing the work, it was now his turn. Her cunt was so dripping he had no choice but to go faster. He could feel her clenching on him as if she wanted to keep him inside. "Would you be kind enough to give me a hand, love?"

She nodded, her hand searching for an access to the inside of his sweatpants. After a little struggle, she had her grip on him. She stroked slowly but firmly. Ghost grunted. He wanted more, but he also wanted her to cum as much as she could. A difficult task. He wanted to fill her up, stretch her with his cock, and hear her sweet moan in real life. "Come on Scotty, be a good girl and come for me. Now."

"C-can you use my name?" Her gaze avoided him. So many times she dreamed of how her name would sound rolling out his tongue.

"Come for me, Camille." Her body twitched. The way he emphasized her name! It took only a few more thrusts for her to reach her orgasm. She held her moan down. Ghost's hand never moved from her cunt, the one around her throat let go. He lifted his mask just enough to free his lips and then lifted her top and bra to have access to her breasts. He sucked on her nipple and massaged the other tit. His fingers started to move again inside her.

"Fuck Ghost." Scotty breathed. He hummed on her skin giving her the chill down her spine. She bucked her hips on him. "More please!"

He didn't wait, Ghost went two steps faster, filling her with four fingers while his thumb circled her clit. She grabbed his shoulder. He was glad he still had his shirt on because she would have dug in his skin otherwise. Scotty came around him, muffling her moan in his shoulder. His hands moved away and she let herself slide slightly on the wall. He looked at her for a moment. It was strange to think she was beautiful at this moment; she was beautiful all the time to be fair. But it was how close he was, how he could make up all the details of her face, her voice… her everything. He wanted her. More than sexually, Ghost wanted her for himself. Even though this sounds bad. But it was true, all the sudden this moment who should have been a one time thing turned into more. Ghost didn't want this to be one time. He wanted it all the time, to be close to her all the time.

He grabbed on her leg, lifting it up so he could have access to her cunt. Ghost positioned the tip at the entrance, teasing her. Scotty squirmed, wanting more than that. He smiled, before his lips pressed against hers and he pushed himself inside. She moaned silently in their kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck just like her legs around his waist. He started to pound her slowly to find his anchor. "You have no idea how much I love you." He breathed after the kiss.

Scotty opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but any words were dissolved in moans that she tried to keep down. He held her with a firm grip forcing himself deeper inside her. Thrusting hard till her wetness overflowed on them, making the most lustful noise. Even with the door closed, someone would still be able to make out what was going on in there. His legs could barely hold both of them anymore. He slowly let themselves fall on the floor, never removing his cock from her warmth nor pouding. When he had her lay down on the cold floor, his hands grabbed on her breasts, squeezing them, playing with them, pinching her nipples. Ghost had his hands full. So soft and warm. Even better than all he could ever imagine. He fucked her even harder in the more relaxed position. Till he came inside her, grunting in her neck.

They remained like this for a minute. No move, coming down from the high of their orgasm and panting hard. That was some workout. "Ghost?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you mean by how much you love me?" Scotty felt him tensing. It was inevitable that she would ask him this. He hated that he used these words in such a situation. Because of course it raised the question. What is her or her body? Was it only the sex or more?

"I don't think now is the good time to talk about feelings. Maybe later, around the table with a drink."

Thankfully it was almost the end of the day by then and the wait hadn't been so much of a torture. It also gave enough time to Ghost to try to figure out what he should say, how to explain himself. Expressing himself was not his forte. Scotty on her side didn't try to think too much of it, but as per her usual the way he proposed to talk felt like… perhaps there was a chance. They met at the pub after work. The ambiance was relaxed, it would be another hour or two before it would pack up. They sat at a corner table, a fake sense of intimacy. They had their fair share of drinks before, but never the two alone. And never after all that unfolded. One of them would have to speak up. "So… what now?" She said after a shot. "What's the deal Lieutenant?"

"Deal is, it's much easier to shoot people then to talk to them." He fidgeted with his glass, avoiding looking at her. A rare thing from him who was never afraid to keep eye contact.

"Should I give you a gun?"

"Hell no!" She could see the smile on his face despite the mask. "Ugh I don't know where to start."

"I know where. What about why the fuck did you even hang around my OnlyFan? I didn't think that was something you were interested in."

"I'm not. I was just in you." She was surprised by the answer. "Alright, you know I'm direct, no need to twist everything. So here's the deal. I fancy you. That was even before you slipped up with that link. I ignored it at first but… I got curious."

"Next thing you knew you were down the rabbit hole. I get it. Now what if…. I… also fancy you?" His eyes sparked open.

"You better not fucking with me."

"We kind of already did." He chuckled. That was true. "But no seriously Ghost. I do like you too. A lot. However…. If we ever do something out of this, should I… you know stop my outside of work activities?"

"No. If you like this, please keep doing it. But, if you are to be mine, no more shagging around with strangers. Or Soap."

"Yeah I can work with that, sir." Not exactly the most romantic thing, but they didn't need more. This was enough. And in the end, they both got what they wanted.

#cod fanfic #cod oc #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #oc:camille scotty moreau #not canon #keep it (not) tactical sgt

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