#half price whores

[bunnys-kisses]

house sitter au

while they serve their country, you serve them! *salute*

task force 141 are good at what they do. their ranks and medals are impressive, but it's hard coming home. home for them for a long time was a mediocre flat in central london that was vacant most of the year. it didn't help with the loneliness and disconnect the men felt after time abroad.

that's where you came in. an impressive resume and a bit of confidence that if you could handle toddlers, then you could handle four grown men!

when they were home, you helped clean and made meals. when they were away, you got free reign of the entire house. it didn't help that the paycheck every month was impressive.

the one thing they didn't tell you about the job was the lingering gazes of the men who you lived with. they never did anything, they wouldn't do anything without your consent. but when you were in the garden pulling out weeds (when was the last time the lawn was taken care of) you saw price by the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, watching you grumble to yourself. then when you were cooking lunch for yourself, you felt the hot gaze of johnny against your backside as you reached to the top shelf to grab some salt (who put this so high?). then it was simon's eyes on your lips as you enjoyed some ice cream after a long day dusting (how were these guys not sneezing from all the dust!). finally it was gaz who made a comment about how you looked nice when you were scrubbing the floors. he laughed it off as a joke, but the way he looked at you was a little more heated.

four pairs of eyes lingered on every part of your body, even the parts that you were insecure about. to end up in bed with them wasn't hard. it first started with the captain, then you made your way through the ranks.

price was burly and strong, he had you pinned under him on his large bed. his hands on your hips as he buried his cock into you. your ass in the air but your upper half was flat against the mattress, price soon interwove his fingers with yours as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. you realized soon after that he really liked when you called him captain. or better yet, daddy. you didn't know that you reeked of daddy issues, but price could smell it from a mile away. but don't worry, daddy's got ya. when he was finished fucking you, he'd play with your overstimulated clit while he smoked. he made sure to exhale away from you. he was the first however to punish you when you were being a 'bad' girl. sometimes it was shining his boots, other times you were the one getting his boots dirty. (hope you like rough laces against your soaked clit!)

johnny was a wild card. he liked to bite. and it wasn't like his teeth were too blunt to cause any damage. after the first time you were with him, you made him go to the drug store to buy you concealer to cover the jackson pollock-esque hickeys on your neck! he offered to buy you a collar to wear inside and you narrowed your eyes at him. "if anyone here needs a collar it's you, mactavish." but he could also be so sweet. while he liked it fast and rough, he always made sure his number one girl got to finish as well. usually before him. his kisses were sloppy, he was like a dog sometimes. his favourite place to fuck you however was in the yard outside. he usually have to shove his thick fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. no one needed to know just how NEEDY you were for his cock. the number of times the other men caught him just pounding your sweet cock, using that strength of his to his advantage was something else. and of course, when they caught you, they hung around. three other men watching you face down in the grass with johnny having you by the hips. his praise his filthy, almost degrading. you were his special girl, but you were also a massive whore. but don't worry, bonnie, johnny will happily fuck any hole you have open.

simon was difficult. he only found out that your legs were open for business after he heard you and johnny going at it. the sound of the bed creaking and the scottsman's filthy tongue. but unlike johnny, simon was a little too big for you. while your sexual encounters started with oral and fingering. he managed to get just the tip in. but it wasn't enough, he eventually sank every last inch. the feeling took the wind out of you and you couldn't sit right for days after. his pace was slow, methodical. he watched you with a keen eye. the rise and fall of your chest, the noises you made. he knew he was selfish for taking so much of you, but you were unlike anyone else. after that, he started to take his mask off more. if you saw (and felt) his cock, you might as well see what was under the mask. cue a lot of worship from you, kissing at his heavily scarred body. he'd just hold you in his arms while you were in his lap.

kyle was the sweetest which compared to the other hulking men you were living with. it wasn't a hard bar to clear. all of them complimented you, but kyle was the one who'd bring you flowers when he returned from a mission. he mostly liked to keep his intimate time with you in his bedroom. his favourite position was to take you on your side. him spooning you as he thrusted his cock into your tight pussy. his nose in your hair as he moved against you. he knew the other men were taking your pussy for a joy ride, so he wanted to make love to you. flowers, candles, sweet nothings. the only problem was, instead him wanting to jump your bones. you wanted to jump HIS bones. you got loads of body worship from him, lots of praise to. he also liked when you called him by his rank, while not AS impressive as captain or lieutenant, it was still something he was proud of. he'd take you missionary style but a lot of the time, loved having you on top. with the afternoon light bathing your body in golden rays. he rarely left marks or bruises. no one needed to see what you two did in your off time. it was a secret for him and him alone. regardless of how you two fucked, he was the king of after care, letting you rest as he would read to you. either the book he had picked up while away or an article on his phone. he chuckled when he heard you snoring.

but sometimes, it was hard to choose between two of them at a time. so you ended up with both johnny and simon's cock pushed inside of you. your mouth hung open and your mind drawing a blank. but don't worry, they're worshiping your cunt. cooing about how sweet it is that you can take BOTH of them. of course you could! you were made for them. your stomach feels dense after they cum inside you about three times. the feeling of their cum in your gut makes your lethargic and just curl up after they get their fill.

other times its kyle and price. while they aren't pushing your pussy to its absolute limit. it still takes a lot out of you. you were on the floor of price's bedroom, riding the captain while facing kyle who had his cock in your face. as you moved your hips against the older man, your mouth and hand were on the sergeant's cock. you found out that both men liked it when you were covered in their cum, not push it inside of you as deep as they could.

when those who hired you asked how the job was going after a few months. you meekly asked what the health insurance policy was and did it cover birth control *hides face*

(you'd find out within a year that no amount of pills, iuds, rings or implants could stop one of those boys from giving you a baby)

<3

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (1/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, kidnapping and imprisonment, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It took him a long time to bring her to the Red Keep. Too long, to his frustration – while Aegon on his throne preferred to loudly announce to his subjects things he could not provide for them, he acted in silence, trying to ensure that he was always one step ahead of their sister-whore.

When Larys Strong's spies reported to them that Rhaenyra was seeking dragon seed among the bastards in King's Landing his brother laughed, but he, their mother and all the lords were horrified.

This meant that the slight advantage Vhagar had given them was going to be in vain, as she stood no chance in a confrontation with so many dragons.

Helaena was riding Dreamfyre, but at his words to move into battle with him she covered her ears and turned her head away, saying she would never burn anyone. Daeron's dragon was still too small, so that left him and Aegon, who was the King and could not die, on the battlefield.

That was not enough.

And then it dawned on him.

Rhea Royce must have been devastated after learning that her hated husband's seed had taken root in her womb. The whole kingdom knew that she and his uncle loathed each other sincerely, and while he stayed in King's Landing, she remained in Runestone.

He thought she certainly felt satisfaction when she gave him a daughter, although the Rough Prince wanted a son.

According to rumour, she was born accompanied by her mother's loud groans a few months apart after his own birth, and was supposed to be the reason Daemon waited with murdering her mother: he did not want the burden of caring for a newborn child to fall on him.

Though he would never admit it out loud, of the many lords or bastards born of dragon seed, his choice was guided not only by her close kinship to their family, but also by the fact that having her by his side could be a humiliation to his uncle, a show of his strength, prudence and sheer malice.

Of how dangerous he was not only because of Vhagar.

He had prepared an ambush for her with reverence, through Strong's spy network weaving servants close to her into his plan.

He had no idea what kind of woman she was, whether or not she resisted, whether or not she could wield a sword like her mother, but he received a letter weeks later that they had succeeded, and Daemon's daughter was heading for King's Landing against her will.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips at the thought of what he would be able to do with her: if he found her pretty and humble enough, if indeed she succeeded in taming a dragon, he could try to invalidate his betrothal to the Baratheon whore and allow her to receive the honour of bearing his heirs instead.

His own dragon inheritance.

When she finally arrived, she was, much to his mother's displeasure, placed in a dungeon – he wanted her to understand that her situation was serious and that any answer from her that did not satisfy him would end in one way.

Her death.

He went down to the underground with the guards and dismissed them when he stopped under her cell with the torch in his hand, its light exposed her face to him.

She was sitting on the ground with her knees tucked under her chin, her head raised towards him, the look of her eyes frustrated and grim, her dark brows arched in displeasure.

She was not afraid.

For now.

He looked at her figure from top to bottom, finding that he had imagined her differently: he had hoped to see any Targaryen features in her. However, her long hair was dark, her eyelashes long and black, like a fan surrounding her brown eyes, which were as big as those of a doe.

Clearly it was her mother's blood that prevailed, he thought with disappointment, however his face remained stony.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked coldly, the corner of her mouth twitching, her gaze softening as if his words amused her, making him feel uneasy.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied without any pleasantries.

He licked his lower lip in a gesture of frustration, recognising that he would not allow himself to be verbally dominated by her.

He had to knock her off her guard.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers, suddenly tired and small, like a child who wanted to go to sleep already.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She said, and he snorted, grinning broadly – she looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood."

She shook her head, shocked by his words, raising her shoulders in a gesture as if trying to defend herself against what she just heard.

He liked the look of terror on her face, no doubt at the thought that they were about to cut her wrists open and drain her of blood like an animal.

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said coldly, and she burst out laughing, as if she hadn't heard a greater foolishness in a long time, causing his jaw to clench in fury.

Stupid cunt.

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She sneered, looking away, as if she thought she could get away with such impudent words.

She picked herself up and took a few steps back as he unlocked her cell and a moment later he was beside her, dropping the torch to the stone floor, grabbing her by the neck, her body and head hitting the wall hard.

He stared at her for a moment, listening to her heavy breath as if she was choking, panic in her big, brown eyes.

Fear suited her.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, and she shook her head quickly, her lower lip quivering all over, her small, soft hands clenched on his wrist.

He leaned over her, digging his fingers deeper into her delicate skin as if he wanted to break her neck.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, as if asking her a secret, something only he should hear.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her plump lips parted in a deep, shuddering breath as she nodded, her warm gaze filled with pain and regret at the same time.

Was she now begging in her mind for her father to save her?

For him to come to her rescue?

The thought made him want to laugh.

"Mmm." He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon's blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon's, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

He felt arousal at that thought, his length pulsed softly in his breeches.

He let go of her, and she took a deep breath, sliding to the ground, clutching at her neck where he'd driven his fingers.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said in an offhand manner and simply left, satisfied with how childishly simple it was.

The women and their soft hearts, their despair at the thought that someone else might lose their life because of them, their eternal pondering and tenderness that made them so weak.

"I have heard of your success, brother. I was told we had a visitor in the Keep." Said Aegon, glancing at him, seated at the other end of the table, while his hand played with the marble green orb lying before him.

"Yes. She will obey us. I will personally prepare her." He said, resting his elbows on the table top.

The King laughed.

"You, brother? What does your beloved betrothed in Storm's End would say about it?" He sneered, glancing at the lords around them as if asking if his joke was in fact funny.

He grinned, trying to contain his anger and that familiar, unpleasant feeling of humiliation rippling through his chest.

"Who else would do this? You, with your superior knowledge of the language of Old Valyria will teach her commands and behaviour towards a wild dragon?" He asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother grew pale and swallowed hard, tense, feeling that he had lost this battle.

"Bring her in." He ordered.

Soon the door to the room opened, and she walked in, accompanied by the guards: she was wearing one of his mother's old brown gowns, its red sleeves reaching to the ground. Her hair was loose but not in disarray, falling gently down her back, as if she had not let any servant touch it and combed it herself.

"Come closer, cousin." Said Aegon with a smile, raising his hand and nodding, clearly wanting to encourage her.

She reluctantly took a few steps closer, looking around the assembled people anxiously, finally meeting his gaze – she stopped for a moment at his face, as if she was thinking hard about something, and then turned her head away, suddenly tired and resigned.

Good, he thought.

There was no need for her to stand up to him.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these… discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." Aegon said, her lips twitching in a grimace that he didn't like when he mentioned him, but no words left her mouth.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" Continued Aegon, their mother looked at him and shook her head, wanting him to stop.

She lifted her gaze to his brother-king and looked at him for a moment, her expression gentle and calm.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell around them – he feared what Aegon would do with this insult – the fact that she had humiliated him by simply calling him her cousin, speaking to him without proper etiquette or manners.

Aegon pressed his lips together and leaned forward, as if thinking hard about something.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

He looked at him shocked, not believing that he had said such a thing, apologised to her even though it was she who had offended him, and then looked at her face – her eyes turned red, her lips parted slightly, as if he had stuck a needle straight into her heart.

What was he doing?

Aegon spread himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of wood, smiling with satisfaction.

"You may leave."

He did not know why he had been furious all evening, why, bent over the maps of Westeros, planning his fucking war, he had been unable to focus or calm himself.

He knew why his brother had done it: he wanted to bond with her, to show him that he was the one she would obey, that he was in control of the situation, that he was the King.

"Bring our prisoner." He ordered loudly so that the servant who was just taking the tray from his table heard it.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

When she walked into his chamber she stopped immediately behind the door, which closed behind her with a loud clatter. He glanced up at her dispassionately and looked again at the books he had taken from his shelves, which he had often browsed through as a child.

This was his legacy, not hers.

But he had to do it.

"Come here. Sit down." He said dryly and after a moment he heard the rustling of her gown.

As she sat in the chair beside him he smelled her, some kind of oil that scented of field flowers, chamomile or daisies, and he thought that she had taken a bath.

Something in that thought, in the idea of her bare, soft body sunk in the warm water, made his manhood throb pleasantly, tingling heat spreading through his lower abdomen.

He moved one of the books towards her, open to the page on which was written what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Can you read?" He asked coldly, and she threw him a look from which he felt like grabbing her cheeks and shaking that little head of hers.

She didn't answer, which frustrated him even more, clutching the volume in her hands and leaning over it, following the text with her eyes.

So she could read, he thought mockingly.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling tired and discouraged.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm." He said, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Repeat."

Silence.

He pressed his lips together, opening his eyes, thinking he was about to kill her with his own hands.

He looked at her, wanting to hiss to her that he was going to slam her head against the table until she dutifully recited each of the words he was ordering her to repeat but his voice stuck in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

He had the impression that although she froze in stillness, her whole body was quivering, as if she was cold.

Her eyes were open wide in fear, and even though her lips were pressed into a thin line she was breathing heavily, as if she were suffocating, her fingers clenched on the back of the book.

Was it possible that she had heard these words before, had read a book similar to this?

Did Daemon try to teach her the language of Old Valyria when she was a child?

He didn't know what he should do, feeling that if he touched her she would just fall apart, so he merely looked at her, wondering how such a person was supposed to tame a dragon.

He rose from his seat as if burned, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes rolled back and she simply fainted, her body, numb and heavy slid to the floor beneath their feet.

He circled the table and knelt beside her, slapping his palm against her cheek in an attempt to revive her, but she did not wake up.

"Bring the Maester, quickly!" He called out and cursed loudly, restraining himself from screaming with rage.

"What have you done to her?" His mother hissed quietly, so that only he could hear it while the Maester examined her.

He turned his face away and shook his head, wondering if everyone in this damned fortress was against him.

After all, he was doing this for them.

For their family.

"Nothing. She was only supposed to read a few words. I didn't even touch her." He growled, his hands intertwined behind his back clenched into a fist.

Why didn't she trust him?

Why was she looking at him like this, as if she didn't recognise him?

Hadn't he always been faithful to her?

"What words? What did you say to her?"

"Words in Old Valyrian, nothing more. She must learn it if she is not to burn in the dragon fire, and our efforts are not to be in vain." He scoffed impatiently.

"We do not know what Daemon did to her. Whether she saw her mother die."

"I don't care what he did to her or what she saw." He said, throwing her a look from which she froze. "We have an agreement and she knows what will happen if she doesn't fulfill it."

"What will happen? You'll burn the Vale?" Alicent asked with a sneer, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a terrible, piercing shame.

"She will stay in my care tonight. Don't go near her until she recovers." She told him and stepped around him.

He felt as if she had slapped him in the face so he left, not wanting anyone to see the burning tears of disappointment that had gathered under his eyelids.

He didn't let them flow.

He was not weak.

He was not like her.

He was not like Aegon.

He was not like his father.

[asumi2020202]

Everything has a Price to Pay

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: Daemon's hired men, whilst trying to slay Aemond in his bed, accidentally harmed his wife and his son and Aemond blames his wife for it.

A/n: The 2nd episode of s2 broke my heart. The way Helaena clung to her son's blanket. But anyways, this is something which is somewhat based on the storyline of ep 1 and 2 of s2 but unlike the directors taking out Alys Rivers from the show, I'm including her. Thank you for reading!

______ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ___________________________

All throughout the kingdom, you were known to be the gentlest of souls much like your sister. Though she was naive and all too forgiving, you were a bit unlike her. You preferred knowledge but both of you were kind.

Your marriage to Aemond was exactly like Aegon and Helaena's. To keep the bloodline pure. Except the only difference was that both of you loved each other and that he was not like Aegon.

You always stayed with either your sister or your husband ever since a child. Or sometimes you would accompany your eldest brother, he only had you who understood him.

Unlike his brother and nephews, you didn't tease and harrass Aemond, for you too knew what it felt like to not be heard. He felt as if he could only seek comfort in you and his mother as a child and even now.

When he had claimed Vhagar, he had to pay the cost with his eye.

He realised he loved you when the maester and maids tried to usher you away saying the stitching and mending to his face would too horrific to see for your gentle soul yet you stood your ground and held his hand while your mother pleaded for justice.

You felt hate for your father. For he blindly trusted his daughter, disregard anyone else. If someone even asks him your name he probably would not be able to say.

After that incident in the Red Keep, your half-sister's family fled to Dragonstone.

_________________________________________

War had started. Your mother along with your grandsire, successfully installed Aegon on the throne. Your husband Aemond had took the life of your nephew.

You knew that the House of the Dragon would tear each other apart. With no literal escape.

It was only some days before your child would be born. Having your first child with your husband. The only happiness in this devastating time.

Your happiness has crashed down when you got a raven. Your husband was laying with some bastard whore in Harrehal. The only thoughts you would get were

Did he not love me? He always swore that he would never leave me and stay by my side, that he will be different than our father.

He looked happy when he got to know of our child yet he is laying with another woman.

What did I do wrong?

Why did he lie?

He left you right when the war had been declared and he finalized it by killing your nephew.

Your mother tried to help you. Completely disappointed in her son. She raised him better yet he still did this. Harming her daughter, hurting her emotions and dishonouring her.

You stayed with Helaena until the pressure of it all became too much to bear and ultimately pushing you towards your labor.

_________________________________________

You laid in your bed crying, sweating and panting, while your husband was who knows where.

You held tight onto your mother's hand as Helaena quietly said "A price must be paid for all that is done."

Soon enough your child was born. It was a son. Your little Aenor.

Moonfyre's roar were heard. She could sense a new presence. One familiar to her bonded sister.

You cried as you took your son in your arms, your mother kissing your head as your sister gently rubbed your arms.

_________________________________________

Moonfyre had laid her eggs 3 weeks before your son's birth.

It had been a week since you had Aenor. Since your husband, if you can even call him that now, had not returned. You took it upon yourself to get him his own dragon egg.

As you walked through the dragon pit, you saw some dragon keepers scared.

"Moonfyre iksos daor īlva jikagon va zyhōn. Nyke suggest ziry would sagon wise naejot daor jikagon va zyhōn nykeā zyhōn drōma sir." Said a dragon keeper.

Moonfyre is not letting us go near her. I suggest it would be wise to not go near her or eggs now.

"Dīnagon aside. Nyke shall ūndegon skoros nyke kostagon gaomagon." Came your reply.

Move aside. I shall see what I can do.

As you walked further in, you saw you dragon, guarding her precious eggs.

You walked towards her. She's let's out a small noise upon recognising you. You gently placed your hand on her snout and then your forehead. With her wings she gently pushed you towards her eggs, guarding you.

You chose an egg for your son. Before leaving, you patted her snout and scratched it a bit, giving her some comfort.

_________________________________________

Night had already fallen over kings landing. You were with your son in your shared chambers. He had fallen asleep to your gentle humming.

As you were cradling your son to your chest, you heard the door being opened. You thought it was perhaps a maid but as you turned around you saw the rat catcher that comes everyday.

He was smirking and held a knife. Soon after him, entered a muscular man who had a knife as well.

"A son .. for a son he said." Said the muscular man. "Oh but look there, thats his son." Replied the rat catcher to the other man.

As the other one looked at you, you felt dangered.

"I.. have a necklace. It.. is of great value.." you cradled your son closer to your chest with one arm while with the other hand you tried to open the necklace.

The muscular man simply tore it away from your neck. Fear was evident in your eyes. You took a step back as the rat catcher said

"Hand him over and you'll live. We only need him."

As he approached you, you placed your right hand over your right thigh where your own dagger was kept.

The rat catcher tried to forcefully take your son but before he could do so, you kicked him in his crotch. While writhing in pain, he slashed your arm. The other one was coming towards your son, but as he tried to slash him in your arms you turned around.

His blade dug through your back. Muscles getting slashed. Extreme pain courses through you. Yet you didn't give up. U took out your dagger and slashed his cheek and stabbed his chest. As he flinched away, you took your chance and ran out the room, you nightgown red with your blood.

You didn't know where to go. Time was limited. You could hear faint moaning noises. Cradling your son closer to your chest, with your jaw on his head, you followed the noise.

You came infront of your mother's chambers and entered without a second thought. You saw her with Ser Cole but you didn't care about that. Your energy was running out. A lot of blood was lost. You didn't even know if you would survive.

With your remaining strength you said "Mother". You shakily walked to her and somehow gave her your son as you collapsed beside her bed.

Alicent's scream could be heard from everywhere. She couldn't believe her eye. Her little sweet y/n was bleeding out in front of her. She put Aenor on her bed as he wailed out loudly.

Alicent kneeled before her daughter and hugged her to her chest. Her blanket and body getting bloodied. She cried and cried.

Aegon and Helaena had appeared as well. Helaena couldn't watch, tears flowing from her eyes. She took Aenor as a maid escorted them away to her room.

Aegon rushed beside his mother and sister. Gently taking her in his arms as maester Orwyle came through hurriedly, asking Aegon to put you on the bed.

Aegon very carefully laid you on your stomach on the bed. While maester Orwyle asked them to leave the room, both your brother and mother did not stop crying.

_________________________________________

Aemond had landed on the Red Keep. Getting off of Vhagar, he walked inside the castle. As he entered, he could see a man being dragged to the dungeon. Blood everywhere. Maids rushing around.

He saw his brother. But he wasn't as he usually was. He knew after becoming the king, Aegon had changed, but now he looked completely different.

His hair not brushed. Eyes red and tired. Blood. He was covered in blood.

As Aemond walked towards him, he heard Aegon say to a guard "kill every rat catcher you can find. Spare none."

Aegon looked away from the guard and saw Aemond. His eyes filled with fury. He marched towards him and grabbed his collar.

"Finally came back huh brother? It could've been avoided with you here yet you chose your whore over everything else." Aegon said, trying to keep his calm which is very unlikely of him.

Aemond felt ashamed and confused. Ashamed for being disloyal to you and dishonouring the family and confused thinking about what Aegon was saying.

"Look I'm sorry brother, that was a mistake. But do explain what you mean by it could've been avoided. What has happened?"

"Our sister had given birth to your son a week ago. And today she-" Aegon stopped. His tears flowing uncontrollably. "T-today she and my nephew were attacked. She is badly wounded. Maester Orwyle is with her but he said that she lost a lot of blood. That she was already weak from the birth and now this." With this Aegon completely broke down.

Aemond's breathing stopped. He chose his whore over you. The one who always stood up for him. He felt ashamed. So ashamed that he might sink and drown.

He ran towards his mother's room after Aegon told him where you were while he went down the dungeons to deal with the man who dare hurt you.

As Aemond reached, he saw his mother. Scared and fearful. He knew he fucked up bad. As she noticed him, she walked up towards him, looked him in the eyes and slapped him. He deserved it.

_________________________________________

You slowly opened your eyes, trying to take in your surroundings. You saw your husband pacing around the room.

He noticed that you were awake and spoke. "You're awake" you remained silent as you recalled the events of last night.

"Aenor.... My son.. my son Aenor! Is he okay?! Did he get hurt?!" Your enquired as you suddenly sat up, ignoring the pain in your body. Worried for your son.

"He only had a small cut on his feet. Nothing else. He is okay." Aemond replied helping you back down. You felt relieved and finally acknowledged your pain and groaned.

He didn't knew what came over him in an instance. He felt anger towards the ones who hurt you and his son. He was angry with himself but instead it got directed at you.

"If only you had taken better care of the security, none of this would've happened.." he muttered.

"What?" You sat up again, not believing your ears.

"If only you knew how to fight, this would've never happened! You can't fight, can't run, you can't even protect our child like a mother should!! You should have called more guards!!" He shouted while pointing his finger at you.

You got up from your mother's bed and stood as you held onto the bed.

"It is my fault now?! Huh?! You're the one who's irresponsible. You left me!! You left me and my child to fend for ourselves!! You left us for your whore whom you sought comfort in instead of your wife!! Where were you when we were attacked huh?! Were you fucking your whore?! Were you creating your bastards?!

You promised me that you were different. That you would treat me with respect unlike other husbands with their wives. You said you were different but...... You're just more of the same.." your voice raised and came down as tears flowed rapidly. Your would reopened because of how tensed your body was. Your nightgown was starting to get bloodied again.

Aemond was shocked. He yelled at his precious wife. His gentle lady wife. And she who never raised her voice no matter how angry or raged up she may be, shouted at him.

He fucked up greatly.

You winced as you fell to the ground. Blood getting everywhere as Aemond rushed to your side and gently tried to pick you up but you refused.

"Don't. Do not touch me with the hands that you used to hold her. I may be a woman. I may be the most vulnerable, but I have an honor. Neither my son nor do I need you. I will ask Aegon to annul our marriage. After that you may return to your whore and I will raise my son alone." You said, wincing as pain shot through you body.

Your lady in waiting came in and got you up on the bed and called maester Orwyle.

As Aemond got up from the floor, he was speechless. He never knew one mistake would cost him his everything. The words you spoke hurt more than when he lost his eye.

The entire day those words circled his thoughts.

_________________________________________

It had been a week since the last time Aemond met you. He had went to Harrehal and returned. Aemond walked inside your shared chambers after he got to know that you shifted back there. Aegon provided two guards infront of your door.

He watched as you cradle your son to your chest with your left hand which was fine and hummed a valyrian song to him.

You stopped as you as noticed him. You gently put Aenor in his crib and straightened your back.

"I'm sorry" he started.

"You sorry means nothing to me. You say your sorry now but next chance you get you'll run back in her arms." You spoke, gazing out the window.

"There will be no next time. I got rid of everything that would come in between us." He replied as your body stilled after hearing his words.

"Whatever do you mean?" You asked, turning back to face him.

"I got rid of her. All i now need is your forgiveness. For you to accept me again. To trust me again. Please avy jorrāelan. Forgive me this once." He begged as he got down on his knees and held your hand.

You were shocked. He killed her. He killed her without a second thought. You wanted to loathe him but deep down you loved him.

"I don't know..... I don't know anymore. I want to trust you Aemond. But I can't. I can't trust you. You've hurt me far too much.

It'll take a while to heal the scar you inflicted upon me but I will try. I will try to forgive you." You replied shakily.

He got up and hugged you lightly not to press on your wounds.

"Thank you my love. Thank you" he spoke as he kissed your head.

You gave in to his warm embrace. War has started. But right now you just want to be held.

You would think later of how to punish those who dare harm your family.

Those who hurt your son will pay. They will pay with their life. And you will see to it that they burn in flames. You will make sure that they rot in hell even if you too would have to.

After all nothing is for free....

Everything has a Price to Pay.......

-Lillian

[mariclerc]

Silencing the haters | cl16 & gr63

Summary: the fans don't like your relationship with your boys, but you don't care.

Warning: hate comments.

a/n: just a little smau! i know it's a little short, it's like a second part of "petite sizes" I hope you like it <3

Twitter

ynusername

liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, mlnmarta and others.

tagged georgerussell63, charles_leclerc

ynusername life looking so sweet and lightweight lately 💗💗

comments disabled

yn iMessage

charles_leclerc

liked by sebastianvettel, kellypiquet, lando.jpg and others.

tagged ynusername, georgerussell63

charles_leclerc half of the season down, now it's time to rest with mes amours ❤️❤️

see 673.163 comments

user1 HOLY CRAP

alex_albon best throuple in the paddock

ynusername because we are the only one dumbass 🙄🙄

logansargeant omg finally 🙏🏻

user2 oh my 🧍🏼‍♀️🧍🏼‍♀️🧍🏼‍♀️🧍🏼‍♀️

ynusername i love how my hair looks in the last picc

charles_leclerc of course you do chérie 🤍 you look like an little cute angel

georgerussell63 our topless cute angel 🤍😋

ynusername GEORGIE‼️‼️

oscarpiastri adopt me please🥺

ynusername you can be a fly in our apartment

georgerussell63 or a recurring visitor

oscarpiastri I like the proposal of being a fly

charles_leclerc our family it's getting bigger and bigger each day 🥺🥺

ynusername a big SLAYyyyyy 💋💋

f1gossipp holy moly this is getting fruity here

georgerussell63 charlie did you really take a photo of me washing the dishes? 🫣🫣

charles_leclerc of course i did amour 🥰 you looked so handsome and cute 🥺

ynusername our nice servant 🥰🥰

user3 oh fuck...

arthur_leclerc is this why you didn't take me on vacation?!

charles_leclerc yeah

arthur_leclerc whyy?

georgerussell63 you are a pain in the ass thur

ynusername GEORGE, PLEASE STOP‼️ HE'S A KID‼️‼️‼️

f1paddockgossip she's a bitch, wouldn't dating two men at the same time be infidelity? honestly she's such a whore

user6 yeah, she is a slut in all caps, I can't understand how they are with her...

f1gossip maybe she's a gold digger 🤭🤭

user4 she looks like a whore

georgerussell63

liked by lilymhe, valtteribottas, lewishamilton and others.

tagged ynusername, charles_leclerc

georgerussell63 time to wind down 🩵🩵 📸 creds to ynusername

see 5.263 comments

carlossainz55 and why is ynusername showing her back?! 🧍🏻‍♂️

ynusername because I can, cabrón

landonorris she called you cabrón 😂😂😂🫵🏻🫵🏻

ynusername it's iconic for me how Charles and I are Sally and McQueen 💋💋

georgerussell63 what about me?

charles_leclerc you can be mater amour 🥰🥰

georgerussell63 that seems fine to me sweetcheeks 🥰🤭

f1wagss one wag for the price of two 🤭🤭

pierregasly oh god this is getting out of control

ynusername hm? wtf are u talking abt?

francisca.cgomes he's just a jealous baguette

ynusername i can see that 👀👀

f1paddockgossip hmm, funny... all I see here is a whore using two men for a little fame and attention

user5 my fav throuple ❤️❤️❤️

lilymhe yn it's so pretty 😍😍😍

ynusername thank u bbyyyy grlll

ynusername

liked by lance_stroll, gerihalliwell, logansargeant and others.

tagged charles_leclerc, georgerussell63

ynusername summer break looking like heaven on earth this year ❤️🩵💋 (pd: this was not the way we wanted to hard launch, but we had to do it anyway)

see 93.728 comments

lilymhe omg i love itttt gurlll 💗💗💗

ynusername it's the vibes, darling 🤭🤭💗

f1wagsgossip holy shit, congrats guys 🫶🏻

landonorris I love you guys, adopt me please 🥺🥺

charles_leclerc no lando, no

georgerussell63 we already adopted oscar!!

landonorris you are very boring people 🙄🙄

ynusername yup, we are

charles_leclerc am I seeing a photo of your underwear on the front page? 👀

ynusername hehe, surprise my love! 🥰👉🏻👈🏻

charles_leclerc you will be the end of me amour, you look sexy and cute as usual babe 😌😌🥰

pierregasly share with others that we don't have love please

ynusername iugh, nope... plus you already have kika‼️‼️

georgerussell63 and then I am the sassy one here...🧍🏼‍♀️

user7 omg so so cute 🥹🥹

kellypiquet 🤍🤍🤍 p asks when will you come to play with her?

ynusername very soon, I promise 🤞🏻🤞🏻

f1paddockgossip holy shit they're really together 🧍🏼‍♀️

leclerc_pascale ❤️❤️❤️ mes amours (my loves)

ynusername je t'aime maman! 🥺❤️❤️ (i love you mom)

georgerussell63 so so gorgeous my loves, i love you both 🤍🤍

charles_leclerc i love you too georgie 🩵🩵

ynusername aww, i love you both my baby boys 🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️ you're the best ones!!

georgerussell63 aww, darling 🥹🥹 you're making me cry 😭🤍

charles_leclerc we love you sweetie 🥰💗

lewishamilton *pretends to be shocked* 😳

ynusername heheheh lew 🤭😋

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “SWEET LIKE NECTAR.”

— #. synopsis. because to whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. in fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it? and there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

— #. content warning! step-cest, dub-con, anal fucking, nipple sucking, some light degradation here and there as in the use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ , referring to whitney’s chest as ‘tits’ , big brother whitney being a bitch, loser male reader being an even bigger one in that respect and fuck, did I forget anything else?

— #. word count? 5.2k, if I remember correctly. this is a repost.

— #. something more to say, asher? : “I couldn’t help myself. had to bring back the classic onto here, y’know. ruining whitney’s slutty hole never gets old, specially big brother.”

Moreover, you should’ve probably have expected this one measly question to slip past your older brother’s lips, leering gaze openly taking your conflicted expression in as if taunting you to properly answer. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? ‘Course not, like you could anyway. He’d see right past it like he usually does, testing the waters — he’d call it, laying out the fresh bait for your conscious little self to latch onto immediately.

Because to Whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. In fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it?

And there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

Especially to this one bastard. Too damn nosy to discreetly mind his own business, y’know? Always the one to hover too close for comfort, bated breath feathering delicately against the soft skin of your flushed ear, to keep you tightly on edge. Long past that, it’s starting to get on your nerves how self-assured he is in his flawed reasoning, simply since he had you sloppily suck him off once on the worn couch and now, it’s what? Only natural to drag you around like some sort of thoughtless puppy? Shamelessly refer to you as his trained, little bitch who’ll get on his knees for the right price?

Gotta be fucking kidding then.

It was the alcohol. Nothing, but the intoxicating substance drumming along your veins that had you act in such a debauched manner, had your painfully hard cock straining against the front of your pants. Yeah. Right? That’s all there was to it. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what you keep insistently reminding yourself of despite the growing, churning heat in your stomach, the not-so-subtle twitching of your hardening cock stirring beneath your ripped jeans or the individual droplets of sweat gently trickling down the navel of your slouched back. Alright, keep fucking lying to yourself then. Surely that’ll help you with your current predicament that you’ve stuck yourself into, muddied foot deep within the shallow trenches and a solid grasp firmly placed around your ankle, threatening to snap your dignity in half.

“Well?” Visibly irritated by your lack of answer, it’s Whitney’s increasingly impatient, snappy voice that unfortunately draws you back from your spiralling calculations — whether to respond with the humiliating truth or not. Can’t let it go, can he? Hence why he so nonchalantly has you sat on his used bed, the rusted springs hidden beneath the dusty mattress alerting your every subtle movement with a distinct creak reverberating through the thin walls.

“Well, what?” Idiot, you know very damn well what he’s getting at, it’s not like you suffer from some sort of amnesiac disease to utilise cluelessness and have him fooled with such blatant tactics.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Should be wiping that snide, awful smirk that instantly appears on his face as he carelessly articulates the question once more. Shameless in his pursuit, hungrily eyeing you up and down like an untouched piece of meat to greedily feast upon, sink his pearly, white fangs into.

Oh, thank the heavens that you weren’t consuming any sort of liquid right this moment because it would’ve been shot straight out of your throat, maybe your nose even considering the absurd sentence from your very own brother — step-brother, to be exact. Still in denial that you two could potentially call each other family, far too homely of a term than the puzzling relationship you both share. Speaking of, you haven’t replied to his question yet and by the looks of it, he isn’t looking too pleased with you if you were to stretch this on any further than it should be.

“N-No, I’ve actually fucked my fair share of girls.” Oh yeah, he’s definitely believing you with that stuttering, the uncertainty all too evident in your tone that only a complete, utter moron would’ve fallen for it. Fucking liar. It wasn’t as though you were entirely lying though, having indeed fucked a girl before, but does it really count if that same person were to be your younger sister, Kylar? At most, you’ve had your decent amount of experiences with others, dated a few girls here and there which is to be acceptable for the average boy of your age. However, beyond the intimate acts of holding hands and bashful kissing, you remained oblivious to the process of well, sex — save for the over the top, raunchy porn you’d occasionally watch and that sole encounter with Kylar that taught you far more than any cheap film ever could.

So, it’s still reasonable, is it not? Though this is Whitney you’re directly dealing with and you know better than to assume he’d take plain ‘no’ for an answer, often brash in his selfish desires. No, more like every time whenever he does act, it leads up to the very same, repetitive situation you’ve familiarized yourself to. You, beneath him. You, helpless in the face of his cruel actions.

Not this time though — fuck, that nasty, little scheme of yours slowly, but ever so surely lurking within the depths of your working mind, grateful for the blonde’s clear ignorance of the shit you were ready to commit to regain that minuscule shred of dignity back. None the wiser, preferring it’d remain that way.

And he can only sharply scoff back to your half-assed attempt at muttering obvious falsehoods. Too cunning of a bastard and god, does it mess with you. “Bullshit. You think I’d believe that? Fuckin’ cmon, admit it. You’ve never really fucked a girl before, huh?” That sickening, creeping nausea steadily filling the depths of your guts from the way he so arrogantly taunts you through his ‘light-hearted’ insults, inadvertently painting you as some sort of virgin loser that never so much as had the slightest chance of growing affectionate with another woman. Fucked your goddamn sister so that’s a one-up on you, huh? Hell, you know better than to let such an obscene admission escape you — since she’s your sister now too, that innocence you so greedily stripped away that one faithful evening within the four corners of her room.

Rather not indulge in such sinful thoughts at the moment, not when your prolonged silence is only confirming his self-righteous suspicions to which he so stubbornly convinced himself of. Knowing better than to reason with your older brother, it’s merely when you do finally relent with a reluctant nod of your head — still maintaining a thin layer of deceit, mind you — that his smug grin widens considerably in return. “So you’re an unused slut, basically.” Choice of words never was the delinquent’s forte, but his crude, frank vocabulary certainly is as he so eloquently puts it. “Hah — I fuckin’ knew it. Wouldn’t be cumming so quickly if you weren’t.” He huffs back in amusement at the sight of your apparent fluster, always so damn squirmy whenever he playfully pokes fun at one of your concealed insecurities. Oh, you really don’t know the dizzying effect you have on him, do you?

The numerous nights spent lazily fisting the base of his cock underneath the woollen covers placed over his bare, sweating body to at the very least obscure his depraved actions — not that he cared much whether he was scandalously caught or not. Much so, he’d prefer if it were you to coincidentally’ walk in on him mid-jerk off session, land a helping hand to big brother and let him use you however he saw fit. Fuck, yeah. That’d aid him in his ever growing lust for you, borderline animalistic in how he addictively sought you out as expected, like a sweet, sweet drug longing to be taken. A sweet nectar freshly ripe for the taking, plucked free from the gracious buds of the tree to gratefully sink his fangs into and savour the refreshing taste lingering on his tongue.

Feels so right to defile your prudish self, doesn’t it? So, don’t blame him then. Don’t blame him when he suggests— no, coldly orders you to strip off your damn pants which prompts another gaping stare of yours to the sudden command. Handsome, but so, so clueless, aren’t you? Needs to tell you to do everything for your sluggish brain to eventually catch up to his ever approaching rhythm, cocky grin plastered onto his lips signalling that your step-brother is indeed not kidding around as per usual.

“What’re you waitin’ for? I said, strip.” It’s not a gentle reminder nor a well-intentioned push in the right direction, it’s a repeated warning of his thinly veiled frustrations peeking its way through, past the useless restraints he placed onto himself when he could easily be given what he’s wanted. Not without force, though that is in Whitney’s nature to be as rough as possible, having grown accustomed to things going his way whenever he inevitably turned to bloodied brutality. After all, the bully doubts so himself that you don’t furtively desire this all the same too, conflicted movements headed towards the leathered loop of your belt as you willingly comply as tasked to. Good boy, knew you had it in y’a.

“Do I really gotta do this?” If it weren’t for the pretty, pink flush adorning the entirety of your face right now, your older brother would’ve definitely snapped back with a snarky remark of his own, however the sight itself is enough to let him have your dumb self uselessly hope a little further. What does it look like, little brother? Has Whitney ever backtracked on his truthful words?

“Yeah, you gotta cuz’ I told you to. Now just fuckin’ do it already, slut. I don’t got all day.”

“..Fine.” Having fully predicted such a response, heavy shoulders slouching lazily in defeat from the refusal, you shyly carry on with the clumsy strip tease of yours. Can never get your way with him, can y’a?

Goddamn it, shamefully reprimanding yourself for even following suit to his harsh retort though, can you really blame yourself? He’s got you — fucking, trained you like a dog. That’s what it is, a stupid, dumb mutt that can’t help but intrinsically cave in to its depraved instincts as his rightful owner happily taught him to, mindlessly huffing and wagging its fluffy tail to the sugary sweet praise whispered to him. Conditioning you to his every whim as a promising, rewarding treat awaits in exchange for your dutiful obedience, not bothering to keep your remaining underwear either. Big brother knows best, huh? Look at that pitiful expression etched along your features, averting gaze straying away from his piercing own that’s settled precisely on the drooling tip of your fat, twitching cock dribbling out an alarming amount of pre-cum. How you resist the underlying temptation to automatically press your legs together, denying Whitney of that upfront, perverted view of your spread thighs. So damn easy to get you riled up in a matter of seconds when a tight, warm hole is involved in the filthy equation.

As ensured, you’ll receive as you wish, pup. Only natural to fulfill what you so gravely desire when you’ve been so good so far, right? Offer you the bearing fruits of your well-earned efforts in return while you thoughtlessly salivate over the mere idea, yeah?

“Whitney, this is kinda embarrassing..” Kinda? Practically humiliating to display yourself so lewdly like this, however not as if you hadn’t experienced this rarely either in the past few weeks that steadily transpired. Should’ve grown used to it by now, actually. Still, the lingering shyness of brazenly exposing yourself like this was too much to bear at times, especially with the other’s daunting ogling. Really has to unabashedly eye-fuck you every single time or something. It’s.. somewhat flattering to be throughly appreciated like this despite instinctively knowing it’s out of pure, utter objectification.

Aimlessly losing yourself in the middle of your straying thoughts, it’s the recurring shuffling of fabric carelessly being thrown onto the wooden, creaking floor that draws you back to the hazy reality before you. Fuck, a wet dream is a far more suitable term with how this is stereotypically playing out, the confident, sure movements of your older brother’s calloused hands busying themselves with the hem of his waistband and — oh, he’s surely tugging his sweats down, okay. His.. fucking dick, god — how didn’t you conveniently notice how rock hard his cock was beneath that cotton thin material? Leaving you to breathlessly gawk at the free view of Whitney’s drooling tip roughly smacking against the tensed muscles of his stomach, briefly connecting strings of pre-cum to meld with his cooling sweat. Retaking that relaxed, slouched position along the single bed as if he isn’t currently stark naked in front of your unmoving eyes. That distracting to you, huh? Horny mutt.

“Like what you see, slut?” That fucking conceited tone of his makes you want to respond with anything but an affirmative yes, though through the thick lump you swallow down your throat, it’s the muted nod of your head that further serves him to grin widely in satisfaction. Wanna prove him wrong so badly, so damn so. Yet, how can you when he’s shown you all the reasons not to?

Should’ve been paying closer attention then, baby brother. How your brain immediately shuts off in a haze of confusion, numbing static prickling at your empty mind once the blonde instead settles himself comfortably onto your awaiting lap. “Fuckin’ nice seat.” Would’ve been a more comedic remark if it weren’t for the provoking press of his bare ass flush against your pulsing cock, questionably twitching in approval from the brief physical contact. Christ, get a grip on yourself, you moron but, oh — Fuck. You could just.. fucking slip it in and it wouldn’t hurt to let Whitney take the lead as predicted, greedily relish in the slippery warmth fervently welcoming you? Since at the end of the day, you’re just a man, no? A simple man with stupidly horny urges and needs to gratefully sink his cock into the nearest wet hole that merely happens to be his big brother’s whorish one.

Still, that portion of your mind beckons you to reason along with the weirdly alluring pull of plainly muttering out fuck it, shove it in and— and, do the nastiest shit possible, y’know? Yeah, you should do it. Actually, no. No way in fucking hell should you proceed with it. Uselessly humping your hips upwards with a sickening jolt that draws a relieving sigh from the both of you. Stop it, you pervert. You’ve become no better than him, have you?

“W-What’re you doing..?” Is all you can pathetically muster to his blatantly obvious actions, knowing full well what he’s truly doing. Riling you up. Teasing along the edges of your withering limits till it collapses fully onto the ground. It’s what he does best, driving you insane on the daily from school, to outside, to home and his room you frequently pay visits to at night.

“What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m about to fuck your cute cock, pretty boy.” Pretty. Ah, that shouldn’t be your main focus with how he announces it so casually, essentially admitting he’s planning to ride you. Struggling to grasp onto the foreign concept of him, well— being on the receiving end of sex. Doesn’t he like, usually prefer to be the one in the dominant position? In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had selfishly decided to fuck your ass next, fill it to the brim with his seed. Yet, here he is, contently rubbing himself on your flushed, oozing tip, swearing gently as it barely grazes his puckered hole, thoughtlessly clenching around practically nothing. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this to stake my claim on you, alright? Not fuckin’ fair if some bitch gets to fuck your virgin dick first so, hah— I’m making you into a proper slut. My slut.”

Very convincing, Whitney. Not so much so when he’s shuddering eagerly above you like a man about to be given the slightest taste of heaven itself, namely your cock it seems. Hot. Shit, it is a pretty hot sight, you’ve gotta admit.

So, is this purely a flimsy excuse of his to fuck himself stupid on your dick? Need that much to blindly persuade you he isn’t some sort of drooling cockwhore deep down? Nice try, big brother. Well, you can effortlessly see through his nonchalant act, the barely discernible, rosy flush dusting along his cheeks confirming his secretive, depraved and filthy desires simmering deeply within his core.

“Fuckin’ — ah, help me put it in already.” The resounding gasp escaping him is so breathy, so unlike the dominant, assertive Whitney you’ve familiarized yourself with that your lethargic brain hardly registers his direct order, sounding more like a frantic plea than anything else. Put it in? The little, stuck-up bastard is having difficulty sliding it in, resorting to your aid to lend a helping hand to his futile struggles? That’s cute. The indiscernable trace of a smirk beginning to form onto your lips from his uncharacteristically submissive demeanour, still withholding a decent amount of control in this situation here. Ah, what’re you even saying? He’s given you full leverage to wreck his tight, little hole as you happily please, fuck yourself deeper in that wet warmth you’ve been subconsciously seeking out. You’re the one cupping him within the palm of your hand, oddly contented with this newfound revelation, this switch of power dynamics.

“Can’t you put it in yourself then. It’s not that hard, is it? You’re the one always wanting to everything so I think it’s only fair you do it.” Indulging in the scowl that appears shortly on his straining features only to dissolve under another one of his tough exteriors. “Fuck, you want me to? Can’t put it in yourself, huh?” He counters snidely, grasping for the bottle of lube conveniently placed on the night dresser nearby, accompanied by barking out a sharp huff of laughter as you cuss out loud a fuck! from the cooling, sticky mixture squirted plainly onto your cock.

“Shit! That’s cold! Why’d you pour it on me? Aren’t you supposed to put it in your— y’know? Your—“ Pausing bashfully in your tracks, immaturity running so deeply you couldn’t even properly stammer out the term if you wished to.

“My what? My ass? I’m not putting that in there, I can fuck myself on your cock just fine without that crap.” Lewd. That’s so lewd how he outwardly states it, blazing face hidden behind your cupped palms as though such a gesture would make this alright, make whatever he’s doing — smoothly grinding on the tip of your lubed, quivering length, how his hole teasingly snatches onto your flushed, leaking cock head only to disappointingly let go again. Fuck, fuck — Fuck. Doing this on purpose, isn’t he? Intent on driving you mad before he even manages to shove it in.

But, as previously stated before, there’s nothing you hate more than to lose, don’t you?

Really, he should be the one blaming himself for your rash and impulsive movements, shouldn’t be letting out that surprised yelp, silenced by a high-pitched gasp as you finally have had enough of his provoking mockery to mutter out a sharp fuck it and drive your increasingly impatient cock right in. Head stupidly thrown back in sheer shock from the unfamiliar yet admittedly pleasurable sensation of having his tight, virgin hole stuffed full of your cock right about now. Clear outline of your entire length pulsing deep within him by the noticeable quivering of his toned tummy, which you don’t hesitate to firmly plant your palm against to draw another satisfying, strangled whimper past his lips. Whore.

“Ah, fucking shit— You’re so fucking tight. Relax a bit for me or I can’t move.” Might as well be snapping your dick in half from the unbearable clenching of his unused insides, warm insides that you’re pervertedly staining white with every glide of your forceful thrusts, every harsh slam of your hips against his ass. Can’t stop yourself though — God, no. Not when the addictive heat of his hole envelops you so damn fucking well, rendering you both to mindlessly cling onto each other, entangled bodies slick with hot sweat trickling steadily down the navel of your arched backs. Namely his. And oh, he really does feel so good. Never mind all the shit he’s done, the stingy tugs of his fists deep within your messied hair, urging you to fuck yourself deeper into his trembling frame. This is the sweet taste of revenge you’ll so dearly savour, hungrily imprinting every choked moan to memory for later reminiscing.

Isn’t he so cute too? Tightening fingertips digging harshly into your shoulders for proper stability, an immediate roll of his eyes to the back of his skull whenever you angle your hips to hit that overly sensitive spot that sends a sickening jolt up his spine. Bound to be leaving marks, though that’s the least of your concerns with how goddamn pretty he looks when fucked stupid, fucked utterly brainless to match the feverish haze of his glazed over eyes. “See? I think you secretly enjoy it, Whitney. I think you— hah, fuck — enjoy that I’m taking the lead for once. ‘S that it? You like havin’ my cock inside you, huh? Like it when your little brother fucks you?” No matter how many times he may blatantly refuse and deny it, through the clawing of his nails, etching bloodied scars into your back that are sure to reside in your skin later on— You fucking know by the squeeze of his slutty hole, ring of cream having settled nicely around the base of your cock.

“F-Fuckin’—“ Big brother having trouble speaking? “Bastard, shut— ah! up!” The pitiful whine echoing deeply from his throat almost makes you want to cease your endless blabbering, but y’know what? Fuck that. May as well endure the severe consequences of his actions, from the second you had arrived here, it was bound to end solely in one conclusion. You, balls deep in his ass. You, stupidly drunk off the mere act of ruthlessly fucking your older brother cuz’ shit, does it feel so amazingly good. “If you keep looking at me like that, it only— hah, makes things harder for me here. God, Whitney.. Don’t fucking stop squeezing me, ‘kay?” Not really doing any better than him either, any semblance of control within you possibly thrown out the window with every pleasurable stroke of your cock being sucked so sloppily by his stretched out hole. One thing the delinquent was right about — You being the equivalent of a dumb mutt. A dumb, drooling mutt huffing over his bare chest, depraved instincts kicking in to suck on whatever happens to be nearest and that consequently leads to your dazed gaze zeroing in on his swollen nipples.

Pretty, so fucking pretty. It’s not fair.

Deserving of every torturous inch his tight hole greedily swallows up, the sight of his neglected, puffy nipples almost too much to bear for your watering mouth.

A little taste wouldn’t hurt, would it?

How careless of you to overlook such an area that so desperately needs your loving attention too. Bad little brother you are for that, huh? “Promise to make you feel so good.” Sighing out a guttural groan as the softened pad of your thumbs find home to idly flick at the erect glands, eliciting another strangled curse from the delinquent once again. Sensitive here, isn’t he? “Shit.. Every time I touch your tits here, you tighten up like crazy, hah. Want me to suck on ‘em too?” It’s more of a fervent heads up for your upcoming actions than a polite request, pink tongue curiously poking out to glide along the sheen of sweat settled thickly on the rosy buds. “M-Motherfucker.. Don’t you fuckin’ dare— hmph!” Hastily cut off by the palm of his own hand clasped upon his mouth, he can’t help but to cave in at your perverted antics, specifically that weird obsession of yours with his chest or tits as you so obscenely call ‘em. Shivering lightly at the rhythmic lapping at his nipples which is soon followed by the roll of your tongue against the sensitive flesh, fully latching onto on of them to appreciatively suckle on. The things you do to him, a full on body shock simply from having his pretty tits toyed with, his nipples coyly sucked on by the moist engulf of your warm mouth. “W—What?? Stop, ah, that!” How the fuck do you get to him like this every damn time?

And why the hell does it have to feel so fuckin’ good too?

Screw you, really.

Having managed to get past his carefully placed barriers he put upon himself, a means of protection for his fragile pride that you so selfishly tear away. Because it’s fun to, an absolute power rush to intently observe your slutty older brother fall apart on your fat cock, split his ass open while you’re at it. Teary eyes threatening to spill free more droplets down the length of his scarlet cheeks, bitten lips oozing fresh blood from your nipping teeth and tongue to gently suckle at as a well-deserved reward. Golden locks becoming increasingly more disheveled from every bounce on your cock, the guidance of your hands locked firmly onto his hips to witness the disappearance and reemergence of your leaking tip to reach that one single spot deep inside him.

And it’s real adorable when you draw your hips further only to be halted by the weight of his legs wrapped securely around your waist to prevent you from pulling all the way out, so stubbornly too. “Oh, want me to cum inside?” The derisive pitch of your laughter has the blonde simmering in his humiliating position, too caught up in the intoxicating pleasure of being fucked so mercilessly like this to bother uttering out a curse of denial. Fangs bared, seething glare shot solely towards you, its you. Of course, it’s you who has the final say, the upper hand regardless. As always. “I-I swear to fuckin’ god, if you pull out now— I’m going to fucking kill you, asshole.” He threatens as per usual, but the shaky incoherence of his speech riddled with whiny moans discredits his shitty attempt at intimidation, coaxing you to readily follow suit to his orders.

Ah, look at him. Fucking bitch in heat.

Can’t say no to that face, can you?

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway, Whitney.” You mutter out soothingly in the shell of his ear, slightly unsettled by the softening tone you’ve taken on to address him. Is it due to the pathetic appearance he’s took on from your relentless bullying? ‘S not fair he gets to look all cute and pouty while you’re struggling to keep up here, stuttering hips clumsily humping forward to make up for the messy pace because ah— fuck, you’re nearing your fill and so is Whitney, by the looks of it. “You can’t—“ Cutting himself off in a soundless gasp as your balls heavily smack against his ass, mind gone completely blank from the sheer euphoria of having his hole filled to the brim. Can’t? Sure, he can handle just a little more, can’t he? Cmon, he can do better than that. Drool dripping freely from his parted lips for yours to plant sloppy kisses against, stifling his open moans. Drawing your hips one last time to relish in the tight warmth of his wet insides— really, you’ll miss it, fuck— you barely get to process the thick ropes of cum spurting out of his bobbing cock, accompanied by your own climax shortly after. “S-Sorry, oh my god— I’m so sorry, you feel too good. I can’t—“ You sputter out uselessly, a hollow excuse when you continue on with your sloppy thrusts, burying yourself to the hilt to shoot your thick load into. Staining his walls white with your seed since your hips can’t stop themselves from fucking your cum deeper till the both of you tirelessly settle down in a heap of bodies on the creaking mattress.

Alright, so maybe you did end up going a tad bit too far this time, but it’s not like he didn’t ask for it. Or so you mumble to yourself to soothe your ever growing worries of where this may lead after the shortly lived, euphoric high you’ve just experienced. Nervously lifting your gaze to seek his as you’re greeted with.. ah, it seems you did fuck up. If anything, you’ve dug yourself a hole so steep you couldn’t possibly climb out of it now. Okay, he looks pissed. Doesn’t mean you don’t have time to mend things, right between the two of you, right? It’s as you finally muster up a foolish smile to meet his sour expression, that his frown significantly deepens in return.

“..So, uh. Did you like it?”

You’ve got a death wish, don’t you?

Should’ve probably expected this one. The shockingly loud slam of the wooden door closed shut on your face, promptly interrupting your frantic pleas and apologies. Heaps of dirty clothes thrown right into your arms for you to awkwardly pick up from the floor soon after. “Whitney, don’t be like that. Whitney, c’mon. I’m sorry—“ You’re not actually all that sorry, it’s just he looks too cute when angry, really.

“Fuck off!!”

Stubborn as ever, huh? At least, you’ve got to imprint those slutty sounds to memory for later use, having gotten your answer to leave him be for the time being. And oh, glancing down to be met with the sight of your still-hard, neglected cock tented pitifully against the front of your jeans. Seriously? Didn’t you just cum too?

..Well, you’ve always got the bathroom to take care of that.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Asking Them to be Gentle

Warnings: 18+ (Just To Be Safe), Non-Graphic Depictions of Smut, Implied Consensual Dub-Con, Dominant MW2, Jealous MW2, Slut-Shaming, Strap-On, Shock Collar, Implied Infidelity (Nobody’s Actually Cheated, it’s Just for The Bit), Age Gap (Price), Restraints, Slight Implied Dumbification, Implied Threesome, Petnames, Profanity No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

“Aw, am I hurtin’ you, Love ?” he asks, ceasing his pace for just a moment. His body is hot and thick behind you, a wall, a barrier.

When you nod, your eyes glistening with budding tears and your hands gripping the bed sheets, Simon places a hand upon your cheek. Gentle. His thumb strokes your chin, and his eyes are kind.

Until they aren’t.

They sharpen in an instant, and, without warning, he pulls back, inch by inch, and slams back in. You yelp, winded, wincing at the pain revitalising in your lower half. But he doesn’t let you flee, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to take all of him.

“Should’ve thought about that before practically sitting on Johnny’s cock, you little fuckin’ whore,”

It doesn’t matter how many times you try to tell him that Soap had pulled you into his lap as a joke – a gesture of friendship, not a phallic item or intention in sight  – Ghost isn’t having any of it.

“You won’t even be able to sit down without thinkin’ of me,” he says. His eyes dark, he growls, pulling back for the killing finish. “Or I’ll just have to put the fear of God into you again,” And he slams in, harsh, unflinching, sharp. And you scream, your vision turning white as you reach your end.

König

“I know, Engel,” he says, breathless. His eyes are piercing, fire and ice. And a thin, cruel smile stretches across his face.

Before you can react, even hope to retaliate, he takes your wrists beneath his hands and pins them above your head. You writhe and you struggle, only to be met with a low moan from König.

“Don’t tempt me, Darling,” he says. “Or I won’t be able to control myself when I snap,”

You can tell by his tone that he’s not letting you off easily. Not after your ‘flirtatious’ conversation with the barista from your excursion into town earlier.

When you feel tears prick your throat, König shushes you.

“Oh, shh, Engel, it’s too late for tears now.” You swear you see his eye twitch. His body bears down on yours, scorching and heavy and impossible to fight.

He lowers his head beside your ear, and, sibilant, licks the shell.

“Besides,” he whispers. He grinds into you. Slowly. Warning.

“You wouldn’t want to encourage me now, would you ?”

Soap

“Oh no, Bonnie; the time for kindness and compassion is over,” Johnny said as he tightened his belt around your wrists, pulling it so escape was a distant dream for you. He had you caged beneath him, a smile curved with a certain brand of unscrupulousness only he could wear at his lips.

“After all, what did you say to Simon again ? That I’m ‘gentle as anything’ ?” The second you’d said it, no matter how innocent your intent, you knew you shouldn’t have. If Simon’s gaze flickering to your boyfriend, who loomed just over your shoulder, was anything to go by, you knew the end was nigh.

“Do you know,” he took your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him, making you wince. “How many people I’ve killed ?”

Your heart dropped. Soap – for this was no longer the Johnny you’d come to know and love – released a brief, almost incredulous laugh. “D’ya think they’d call me gentle ? Loving and sweet ?”

Shaking your head, you hoped that by playing along you could negate whatever was coming next. Of course, any and all efforts would be in vain.

“Well,” Soap glowered, his hand encompassing your jaw, gripping you. He ground against you, growled. “I suppose I’ll just have to give you a demonstration, won’t I ?”

Valeria

“Oh ? Gentle ?” she says. Her voice is low and dangerous – you know because you’ve accidentally seen – heard – glimpses of her interrogation tapes. You know what’s coming for you – especially when she has your face pressed against her desk, her strap-on dangerously close to penetration, though hanging just out of frame. A threat.

“Is that what you thought I was going to be when you let that slimy, arrogant prick of a bartender slobber all over you ? Practically let him bend you over the counter and fuck you raw,”

Negotiation with Valeria is impossible – something else you’d gleaned from her tapes. And denial is even worse. But admitting to what she was accusing you of would be the signature on your death warrant. And she knows she has you cornered.

You can feel her tip prodding your hole. She didn’t even bother to lubricate you or prepare you.

“Shouldn’t need to. What, with that bartender already having done that for me.”

She knows the bartender did no such thing, but feeling you cower beneath her is too euphoric for her to even comfort you.

Without warning, she slams into you, only stopping halfway when your body refuses to take more of her, her obscenely long strap-on too thick for you to even fathom as you cry out, scream, tears falling to the desk’s surface beneath you.

Price

“You think, after all you’ve done, that you deserve my mercy ?”

Price’s grip on his belt was palpable, tightening, making the leather whine and whimper in his grasp. You could feel his teeth gritting, his stare hard. His voice held a cynicism you’d scarcely heard in his tone before. Not directed towards you, anyway.

“You go and chat up another guy and you have the audacity to believe that you’re worthy of even an ounce of my sympathy ?” 

The context behind Price’s upset was all rooted in misunderstanding; he’d seen some younger, attractive guy chatting you up, and you, trying to be polite until your boyfriend returned, smiled. Which, in John’s eyes, was reciprocation. And now, you were paying the price.

“Tell you what,” he said, his stern features shifting to portray ill intent, an idea sparking in his mind. He lunged, grabbed you by your ankle and pulled you down the bed – closer to him. His belt remained gripped in his other hand.

“If you can take – say – twenty lashes, and count them – without missing a single one – I’ll think about being gentle.”

He brought his belt down on your thigh, making you cry out. “And then you can tell me all about how he’d be gentle with you – how he could unravel you like I can.” His gaze, dark with the oncoming storm, narrowed. “How he can have you like this.”

Horangi

“Is that what you said to König when he had you like this ?” Horangi hissed. He had you pinned beneath him, eyes blackened with the false conviction of your infidelity.

And, try as you might to ease his misunderstanding, to remind him that he’s the only one you love, you hear something.

The squeak of hinges, the swinging of the bedroom door opening.

You couldn’t see – think – for Horangi’s frame bolted to yours, but through the rushing of blood and Horangi’s beration, you heard a most unmistakable tone.

“Liar, liar, liar,” came König’s voice, punctuated with three broad, heavy steps. He loomed over Horangi’s shoulder, arms behind his back, the smile of deceit a tune upon his face.

A slinking, sly smile threaded Horangi’s lips as he kept his eyes on you, turning his head to address König. “I’ll see how much truth I can get out of (Y/N) first,” he said, and, like a soundtrack, the sound of König’s belt sliding from his pants lay a dark undertone – the instrument. “Then it’s your turn.”

One hand collecting your wrists, the other tearing the belt from his jeans, Horangi gave you his full, undivided attention. As did König. “Seeing as you’re so desperate for another man on the side,” said Horangi, “Let’s see how you take both of us.”

Alejandro

“Don’t lie to me, mi Corazon,” Alejandro says, ignoring your plea, one hand around your throat, the other on your thigh, grasping, groping, grabbing at your skin.

“I saw you – whispering in his ear, telling him God-knows-what,”

Alejandro is on top of you, his weight an immovable object, his stare dark and unforgiving. You can feel him sat just out of reach of your epicentre, but not out of bounds.

What he’d seen was you, smiling, whispering into Rudy’s ear about something sultry. What had actually happened was you were confirming the details of Alejandro’s surprise birthday party with him, smiling because you were so excited to get it organised.

But you couldn’t tell Alejandro that; it would ruin the surprise !

When Alejandro’s more tame efforts to get you to talk proved fruitless, he took to his preferred method of extraction.

He ground against you, letting out a low, shuttering moan.

“You can’t hide the truth from me forever,” he said, with all the conviction of one who has only ever known truth. “So if you’re not gonna tell me while you still have your faculties,” He squeezed your throat, his other hand slithering up your thighs, stopping shy of your centre and unbuckling his belt.

“I’ll just have to force it out of you. Break you down until you’re nothing but a fuck toy.” His eyes are almost black now. “My fuck toy.”

Rodolfo

“Next time you want someone gentle, why don’t you go running to Alejandro, seeing as you seem to like having him slobber over you.”

You couldn’t argue back, couldn’t defend yourself, your mouth gagged with a t-shirt Rudy had tied around your head. You couldn’t even unravel it, Rodolfo’s hands pinning yours beside your head as he pressed into you from behind.

“Hm ? Got nothing to say, mi Corazon ?” Rudy sneers. “Pity, seeing as you couldn’t shut the fuck up around your boyfriend earlier.” 

As if to drive the point home, to hit the nail on the head, he rammed into you, making you whine, the shirt soaking up your cries and your drool. Your eyes shone with tears, but you dared not cry – not around Rudy. Not while he had you at his mercy.

“You won’t stop until you have all of us wrapped around your little finger, will you.” he said. It wasn’t a question, nor did he allow you to answer as he slammed into you again. “Luckily for you, I’m a good man. One who knows how to handle injustice when he sees it.” His grip on your thighs was almost painful, and were it not for the reluctant euphoria building within you, you’d have tried to break free.

“It’s up to me to force it out of you – to erase that entitled mindset of yours.” He pulled out, forced all of himself back inside, sharp. His breath shuttered while yours choked, your scream caught in your throat. 

“Don’t worry, Ángel,” he breathed, lowering himself so his lips were to your shoulder, pressing a deceptively soft kiss there. “By the time I’m done, there won’t be a single thought left in that brain of yours apart from me.”

Graves

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, Whore – you lost that privilege hours ago,” Graves says, threat heavy in his voice. He stands over you, face awash with a dense egoism you know is only worn when he has decided to take his frustrations out on you.

And today is no exception.

The collar about your neck is a reminder of all that you stand to lose should you fail to comply with Graves’ vision – your freedom; made excruciatingly clear to you by the locked bedroom door behind him, the key hanging in the lock.

No matter how you try to reason with Graves, he is having none of it.

“Shh, Sweetheart, now’s not the time for tears–” he says. The threatening tone in his voice remains, only the name he calls you changes. And the more endearing they become, the closer to danger you are.

He slides open the bedside table, reaches in and withdraws a pair of silver handcuffs, clinking together with a deceptive veneer of gentile.

“If you wanna get on my good side again, you have to do exactly as I say, precisely when I say so.” He cocks his head, a slim, coy smile spreading across his face like a disease. “Y’understand, Beautiful ?”

Gaz

“Gentle, gentle – is that all you have to say for yourself ?” Gaz spat, pacing back and forth before you as he kept a keen, sharp eye on you. “After everything you’ve done tonight, you think I’ll let you off easy ?”

The ‘everything’ Gaz was referring to had been your efforts to get a reaction out of him. Bending over at inopportune times, accidentally only wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers while the rest of your clothes were in the wash (or had mysteriously vanished.

And, your worst offence, sitting under his desk while he held a very important online call with Captain price. All the while, you’d poked and prodded and stroked him, tested his resolve, his patience.

And, evidently, you’d gone too far. 

With the remote to the shock collar squeezing your neck attached to the very fibres of his hand, Gaz held all the cards, your sanity the Ace of the deck.

Before you could try to defend yourself, a thin spark sent you yelping, made you jump. Your hands flew to the collar, trying to pull its rounded teeth — the conductors – from your skin.

Gaz only smiled. “Oh no, Love – I won’t be gentle,” his tone was low, a serpent in the grass, his visage matching as he lowered himself to your level, eyes aglow with a piercing darkness. “If only you’d behaved, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[thegnomelord]

i took 357191027r6392936446322736432947372 psychic damage from the Makarov fic so you gotta write reader being rescued, healed, rehabilitated and loved by the task force. imagine them teaching reader to be their own person or letting him top without any commands or punishments. reader would be whining like a puppy who doesn't know what it's doing and would be so cute and fearful looking for reasurance when fucking into a task force member it would be so cute

lol idk dude. I was intending to do the fic as a one off to satisfy my puplay kink but it's now started to rot my brain even more lol. If I did continue it, I don't know if I'd want a happy ending or an angsty one (omfg imagine going through all the healing and rehab and experiencing love only for one word from Makarov to have you going back to him without question)

So tell me ya'll if you want me to turn the one shot into a longer fic lol, but for now here's some headcannons, ideas/ whatever and some porn

CW:NSFW, rough anal, Simon x reader with Price watching, dom/sub.

I can't imagine Hound would be happy about the 'rescue' considering everything and definitely would be resistant to rehab (Hound biting ppl and getting muzzled lol) that dogheaded asinine stubbornness coming to bite him in the ass. I headcannon Hound to have already been violent when he was under Price's command but Price kept Hound in check(if anyone's seen that young ghost and price comic with him being compared to a fighting dog it's kinda like that).

Makarov didn't need to do much and just played into the aggressive tendency to make Hound as they are now. The more violent the reaction hound would make, the more attention and praise he'd get. Also I'm just a sucker for dog like characters that are unhinged. That have no moral compass except for the one they're loyal to and will do whatever they ask.

So the task force members would have their hands full with Hound that's basically an aggressive fighting dog taken straight out of the pit. Also I'm still thinking whether the 141 would try to steer Hound away from the pup/dog like mentality Makarov conditioned them into, or if they would try to redirect it by calling Hound 'pup, boy' etc, instead of 'dog' like Makarov did.

Also the grief Price would feel to see the man he thought was dead turned into that would break his heart. I don't know if I'd want him to crack down on trying to rehab hound, or let a lot of things slide because he's scared of fucking you up more.

But also like rehabed fighting dogs turn out to be the sweetest animals and Hound just going from this 'I will bite your throat out' to just a gentle giant that's just happy to be able to touch or hug someone without needed permission. . . but he can still bite a throat out.

Also I 1000% swear that Makarov's a whore and would have trained reader to have enough stamina to fuck him all night long so the task force would get pounded into next year lol.

This is questionable cannon and non-confirmed lol you just got me brain rotting with the cute pup part and this came out. Rough and quick.

CW:NSFW

You feel like you will die; heat burns through your veins, sweat crawls down your skin and makes your hair stick to your forehead. Your hands grip Simon's bruised hips, holding them up for him as you pound into him. "Please-" You barely manage a small whimper, hiding your face in Simon's shoulder.

Simon's body quivers beneath you, limp and boneless, a wet hole for you to use. He's as sweaty as you, rough grunts and half-formed swears leaping from his lips every time your hips meet his ass in a bruising thrust. He's the closest to you in size, albeit still smaller, which makes it easier for him to take your size than the others. His insides are a sweltering heat around your cock, fucked into a loose sloppy hole that would gape if you pulled out, muscles still doing their best to squeeze you every time you nail his prostate.

It makes you feel ashamed how long it took you to find it. Mounting anyone but Makarov feels wrong, you're not sure how fast or how deep to go, this current rough pace making Simon the most vocal since you began. You feel him cum again, walls clenching tightly for the first time in a while as you force him into spurting what's left in his empty balls.

"Pl- sir, I- please, please," You can't help but hiccup, your nails leaving crescent bruises in his skin as you just pound him through his orgasm. It's his fourth one.

"What's wrong son?" Price's words barely get through the fog of need in your skull, more little whimpers splitting from your lips. "Don't you want to let go?" Tears blurry your vision, you can barely see his face from where he's resting Simon's head in his lap.

You can't cum. Your balls are so full they feel like they'll explode any second, cock throbbing to finally shoot your load but no matter how harshly you thrust into the willing hole beneath you. It feels like those times Makarov would put a cock ring on you, but worse, now it's your own body refusing to give you release. You haven't earned it.

"Please-" You repeat, because that's the best your mind can come up with, your hips stuttering as overstimulation stabs your nervous system like a knife. "I-please, fuck- I can't." You force out, forcing yourself to return to the punishing pace, your pelvis starting to go numb like it would a few hours into Makarov using you as a living dildo.

Price's fingers are disgustingly gentle as they curl into your sweaty hair, making you look up at him with soft pressure on your scalp. There's no bite to his touch, no pain, it's too good for a thing like you.

You'll thank what god exists that Price seemingly understands your problem, "Oh, son." You hate the hint of sorrow in his tone, you hate yourself more for how it makes your heart pound in your ears. "Here, let me" He whispers, his other hand sliding down to your naked neck.

The lack of any collars around your neck still disgusts you every waking moment, still makes you feel wrong, bad dog. His fingers wrap around your throat. They're too loose to be a proper collar, but it lets you breathe easier, his palm warm and big enough to completely cover the 'V.M' tattooed on your skin.

"Go on, that's a good boy." He whispers, "Cum for us." Price orders, kissing you so softly it disgusts you, like heaven wrapped in thorns.

You feel fresh tears spill down your tears as the dam not letting you cum is finally torn down. You hiccup your 'thank you sir's against his lips as you spill inside Simon. You can just distantly hear Simon groan as you dump your cum into his sloppy hole, muscles weakly fluttering around your cock as you roll your hips, fucking your cum deeper into him, just the act of cumming hurting almost as much as being denied, your balls aching with every spurt of cum.

You collapse on Simon, pushing the breath out of his lungs, as boneless as him. You don't struggle when Price rolls you to your side, your cock slipping out. Cum and lube gushes out from his hole like a firehose, flooding the small space between you two, his rim red and irritated, muscles weakly fluttering around nothing as they try to close.

You try to thank him but you slur your words into his skin, feeling the muscles in his abdomen quiver as you huddle closer and wrap your arms around him, your chest pressed flush to his back. You expect him to pull away, Makarov hated being vulnerable like this longer than he needed, but all Simon does is grunt and tip his head back so you can hide your face in the space between his shoulder and neck.

"You olright Simon?" Price asks, brushing a hand through your sweaty hair for a few seconds before you feel him softly wiping away your spend from you two.

"Fuck," Simon breathes out, voice scratchy and rough. "Are we sure Makarov's human?" His hand reaches up to scratch your scalp as you kiss one of the numerous bite marks you left on him. His skin is a canvass of black and blue bruises, your bite marks starting to clot across his body. "Shit, I can't feel my legs."

His words feel like a slap in the face, and you don't notice how you let out a small whimper, your hold tightening. This is it, you'll have to let him go soon, he'll order you to leave like Makarov always did.

"None of that son." Price's voice is calm in your ear, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. "You did good."

Simon hums, his fingers running lower to scruff you, "Mhm, yeah," His words are slurred, exhaustion weighing on both of you. "Best snog I've ever had." He grumbles, and you don't doubt he won't admit it in the morning, but for the moment, as you feel yourself slowly drift off to sleep, you let yourself enjoy the praise, the warmth of human touch, the care you can feel in both of them.

This is starting to feel nice.

[namikawa]

simon riley, reiji namikawa, toji fushiguro, chrollo lucilfer, GOJO SATORU, john price

“so what do you think, do you like the pink one more or red?” you ask sweetly. he stares you down, not saying a single word but making a soft head tilt, accompanied with a grunt at the frilly pink skirt you held in your hand. “think the pink suits you better, real pretty on you.” you immediately perk up, rambling on about how you agreed and really loved the pink one as well.

he can’t focus though, why in the living hell would he be able to focus as you stood, half naked in front of him, bouncing around and giddy about the new outfits you bought. you’d somehow convinced your boyfriend to let you have a mini fashion show as he flipped through the channels trying to find something decent to turn on.

he didn’t think you were serious even though this happened to be a common routine between the two of you. every single time you’d come home after spending thousands of dollars on new skirts, shoes, and bags begging him to let you show off your new additions to your wardrobe. and every single time you’d end up pressed against the couch, bed, counter, anything you were next to quite frankly, with your new piece scattered somewhere across the room as he fucked you to tears.

“goin around spending my hard earned money, just to look like some whore for other men, huh dove?” he knew that wasn’t true of course, always encouraging you to spend whatever you wanted on yourself. he loved to see you happy, this was just his excuse to have a little fun.

but every time you seemed to fall for it, whining in between thrusts about how, “no, only for you! promise it’s just for you daddy, only wanted to show yo-”. before you could get anything else out a hand snakes around, clamping over your mouth. “shh i know dove, just teasing you is all, skirt made you look so good just had to find a way to get you out of it, you know how i feel about ‘em.”

[mrsparrasblog]

Randome TF141 headcanons

Some of them are weird. But I just know.

Price:

Never go to the toilet after him

has a hut in the forest for fishing but mostly ends up fucking a local in there

because this man is a whore

he is still the most loyal when he is in a relationship

his favorite food is Shepard's pie or red jelly but not the green one and no one understands why

has so hard Daddy issues that he fathers everyone

uses AXE dark temptation to get rid of the cigar smell in his house

smells like Tom Ford tobacco vanilla

his love language is gift - giving and acts of service

NSFW:

he is a munch everyone knows it but still he is the biggest munch

Breeding kink

He is a whore but just because he thinks he doesn't deserve more than a one nighstands , please give this man a soft wife to dot on - preferably me

he hates Anal sex but riming is okay in his cards

says he is straight but bottomed Simon and Johnny on many occasions and likes to get blowies from or favorite pretty boy :)

prefers hair down there

Ghost:

He only Shops at Lidl you will never see him at Tesco or Sainsbury, even with all the coupons and tricks Lidl is cheaper. You will never see him somewhere else.

He hates London with all his heart, if there were a hate page for London he would be the admin. Dirty tube, bad football, and too many tourists.

He has a deep hate against a parrot, if parrots have zero haters he is dead.

Read Jane Austin and enjoyed it.

Has a book of stupid jokes in his apartment and laughs about them

When he is in love he is the cutest man alive, but somehow still creepy, he knows your favorite things in everything even your favorite underwear company even tho you never told anyone.

uses 5 - 1 shampoo .... from Lidl (still very keen on hygiene) 

NSFW 

He watches stepsiblings' porn unapologetically 

Has a mommy kink. I could go into heavy detail about it

He isn't a rough lover more of a service Dom 

Doesn't care about hair down there

Soap: 

He sometimes feels left out in his family, his siblings have children and "normal" jobs. His family doesn't see his lifestyle as something to be proud of

Except for his mom, he is such a momma boy but in a good way.

Was a sperm doner once (more than once) but only because he is a good guy with fertile genes 

His mohawk was an accident, he decided it looked "fresh" so it stayed.

Watches DC instead of Marvel...... why?

Uses Hugo Boss, bottled Night, got it from his grandma, and never used anything else

NSFW: 

Gaz was his BI awakening: after las Almas and the broken shoulder he couldn't wank himself properly, and he got so frustrated because he couldn't even sleep properly with a woman because of it, and he didn't just want to go to the Pub and say "Hey my shoulder is broken can you wank me". So in his half-drunk state, he asked Gaz. And after promising each other they would never talk about it, Kyle did help him. Johnny never cummed that fast. He isn't sure if it was because of Kyle's skilled hands, Kyle's fucking hot body, or that he didn't have a wank in two weeks. And when Kyle licked his cum that was his awakening that he likes men and Women. Of course, he returned the favor after he was healed:)

His favorite porn category is Woman Masturbating or Male Masturbating, everything that is solo is 100000 times better than "real porn".

He lost his Virginity very Young to an older Woman. Johnny always flexed about this, but this isn't a reason to flex.

When you sleep with him - you need to be on the pill because he is mister fucks so hard that every condom breaks.

He wears lingerie sometimes - he pulls it better off than some of us :(

cums way too fast but can last like 4-6 rounds 

loves tit fucking

Gaz: 

smells like Bleu de Chanel 

had a more expensive skincare routine than you 

he loves skincare 

He grew up with two moms.

He loves listening to Taylor Swift. No one can convince me otherwise.

Is deeply in love with me

He played Rugby in school. If he hadn't joined the Military, he would be a professional Rugby player.

Kyle was still somehow that awkward kid in class. Even needed to change the school because he got bullied.

NSFW:

He was disappointed in Johnny's cock sucking skills, but Price is a different breed.

can pull anyone and is mister give everyone an orgasm, not once in his life did he let his lover unsatisfied

had a foursome once when he was like 23, with three girls who were obsessed with him, and who can judge them

he is a guy who doesn't kiss and tell

his fav porn category is Anal Sex

has a CNC kink but is afraid to ask

is shaven down there but doesn't care if you are or not.

I have so much more ahhhh

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲 | dark-ish!joel miller x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | when you don't have enough rations to get your fix, you have to find something else to trade

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | a bit under 5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | dubious consent SMUT (18+ only; unprotected sex, oral m receiving, creampie, sex as currency), orgasm control, slapping, choking, spanking, very dirty talk including degradation (slut, whore, etc.), possessiveness, discussions/threats of anal but no actual anal, just a touch of daddy kink and sir kink, implied age gap but not specified, joel is a lil mean but in a sexy way, reader is a pill user/addict

You chewed your nails nervously as you watched him walk up to your usual spot; you tried to act casual, but the more of this stuff you got, the more you needed it— and the more you needed, the harder it was to act casual when you knew it was coming.

“You got the stuff?” you asked quickly, giving your anxiousness away.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “you got the rations?”

You didn’t respond, even with a nod, you just pulled the stack of papers out of your pocket and handed them over. Your foot tapped on the ground— a little tacky, mud’s still drying from the storm two days ago— as he flipped through them.

It’s hard to say what you expected. Like he’d forget how to count or something? “This isn’t enough,” he informed you flatly, looking up from the stack to shoot you a glare.

“C’mon, Joel, be cool,” you whimpered, “so I’m a little short—”

“A little short?” he repeated. “This is less than half what you owe me.”

“Less than half? That’s fourteen— your prices went up?” you wondered.

“No,” he shook his head, seeming frustrated, “what you owe for today plus what you owe from when I spotted you for last week’s fix—”

“Fuck,” you groaned, “I forgot, I’m sorry— but you know I’m good for it.”

He tried to hand the ration cards back to you, and you bit your lip to stop it from shaking.

“I need this, Joel— you know I need this,” you began to ramble, but he stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder. Looking him in the eyes, you cowered a bit just from how intense his stare was.

“You need to get it together, kid,” he warned you, but you were only halfway paying attention.

“M’not a kid,” you defended yourself quietly, though your mind was already somewhere else as your eyes on the hand holding your shoulder. "I'm low on rations," you admitted, "but I can get you something else."

He gave you a confused look, until you reached forward and rested a hand gently on his chest, through the heavy dark green jacket he wore. Then he understood, and gave you a disappointed look. "I don't do that."

"Do what, relax? Take some time for yourself?" you pressed, letting your teeth catch your bottom lip slightly. His eyes did linger on your mouth for a moment, and you hoped this was working. "How long's it been since you got some?"

"Not that long," he said defensively, letting go of your shoulder, but you stepped closer to him and kept sizing him up.

"How long's it been since you got whatever you wanted?"

That seemed to get his attention a bit better. "You can't just say that— you can't just offer that," he corrected firmly. "You say that to the wrong creep trying to get extra cigarettes or something and you end up—"

"M'not saying it to anybody else, Joel," you promised, "this is just for you— I never traded something like this before, but, you know… we go back, and I trust you."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Can I trust you?"

Smiling, you pressed your body up against his; he stiffened up— not in the way you were hoping, either— but didn't stop you. "Trust me how? What would I do?"

"I dunno," he muttered.

"I think the better question is, Joel," you lowered your voice as you looked at him through your lashes, "do you think I'm pretty?"

He scoffed, but you saw right through it. He was trying to tell himself he was better than this, that he needed the rations more, that you weren't worth the trouble. But his neck flexed and you knew you were in.

"Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor," you shrugged, standing up on your tiptoes so you could whisper in his ear: "I always wanted to suck your cock."

"Goddamnit," he hissed, and you thought he was about to throw you off when he grabbed your arm. Instead, he started to walk and guide you with him. "Not here."

He took you, eventually, to his room— it was much more spacious than most, especially yours, and you wondered what you'd have to do to get to spend a night here.

A second later, he pulled you into him; his hands ran up your back, and you smiled as he pressed against you. "Lemme see you first, baby, lemme see you," he whispered, helping you out of your shirt and sighing as he grabbed handfuls of your tits.

Your hands, meanwhile, rubbed the front of his jeans— but he wasn't hard yet, at least not much. Not until he unbuckled your pants and pushed them down along with your underwear, immediately groping your bare ass with a sigh.

"Got a nice ass," he decided, jiggling it briefly with his hand— and before you could react to that, he slipped that hand around and cupped your pussy with it, sliding one finger between the seam of your lips.

"Fuck, Joel," you whispered, reeling a bit from how sudden it all was.

But then it stopped— just as instantly as it had started— and he sat down on the couch. "Well?" he prompted after you just stood there dumbfounded for a moment.

He kept his legs spread wide, and put his hands up behind his head as he leaned back. Why was that so hot?

Swallowing, you got down on your knees between his, running your hands up his denim-covered legs for just a moment before finding his belt.

He let you do the work, opening the buckle and sliding the leather out, reaching into the fly and pulling out—

Fuck, he was big. Thick as hell, a fat head with a vein running up the side… you let your mouth water, knowing it would make this easier, and held his shaft tight as you began to lean forward.

"Hey," he said suddenly, making you stop for a second. "You better make it good for me, or no pills."

Looking up at him and hoping your eyes didn't give your nervousness away, you nodded. He smiled, and leaned back to really sink into the couch.

You started with just a few gentle, teasing licks to the tip, one right over his slit, and his only reaction was adjusting his leg a bit. Taking the head in your mouth, you suckled carefully, letting excess spit run down until it collided with your hand at his base.

It wasn't until he started to get harder in your mouth that you realized he wasn't fully hard before. You knew he was hard enough and thought maybe that was where it capped out for a man his age— no, clearly not, and you felt your hand struggle to wrap fully around his girth as he grew even more.

Trying to sink your lips down further, you had to open up your jaw like you never had before; it wasn't painful per se, but it was an odd feeling, and your lips were a little dry to be stretched this far…

You took him deeper until the tip kissed your throat, and you started to really get into the rhythm of it as your hand stroked what was left in time with the bobbing of your head.

Just when you thought you'd found the pattern and pace that would take you to the end of this, you were interrupted. He smiled a little, and a hand grabbed your shoulder suddenly and tightly; you froze. "Slow, baby, slow," he reminded you. "There's no rush, okay?"

You nodded a bit, still holding him in your mouth, and resumed— much more careful with your speed this time.

"Better," he praised, letting go of your shoulder and getting comfortable on the sofa again.

You kept the same motions, but tried not to get too lost in it— letting your tongue lick and taste, trying to really treat him so you wouldn't get corrected again.

It was a struggle to get much deeper, not just for your throat but for your lips and jaw forced wide open. Still, you worked to warm yourself up, taking your time as he'd encouraged you to.

For a while, he didn't react much, though he did watch you very closely. The first thing he did to show he was really here was brush some hair away from your face, tilting your face back slightly in the process.

"Look up at me," he whispered, "there you go… pretty eyes…"

It made your chest warm and your pussy tingle for just a second; his stare was intense, you struggled to keep eye contact with him looking at you like that.

He held your head and started to move his hips a bit, gently sliding his cock in and out of your mouth— just an inch at first, and he held you still while he did what he wanted with you. "Pretty lips," he continued, running his thumb over them, tracing the shape your mouth was forced into by his cock. "Use that tongue, baby, I told you to make it good for me."

Humming in agreement-meets-apology, you ran your tongue firmly along the underside of his cock as he moved in your mouth.

That went on for a while until your jaw was fucking killing you and you had to take a break; even with his hands on your hair he let you pull yourself off, though the look on his face did show some confusion and disappointment.

That all changed when he realized what you were doing. He smiled at you— a dark, yet amused, grin— as you sunk deeper between his legs to lick his balls. They were heavy in your mouth, and a little salty with his sweat; the mix of dark and grey hairs rubbed roughly on your tongue. "That's cute," he informed you, running his fingers over your cheek for a moment. You weren't sure if that was the word you would use for this, but you didn't disagree because your mouth was full.

You switched to the other one, closing your eyes while you really savored it, tracing the shape of them with the tip of your tongue before sucking them carefully into your mouth.

He moaned when you did that, and you opened your eyes. He looked so fucking good like this, eyes shut and head fallen back and his hands tightening into fists at his side. "That's nice, keep going," he encouraged, suddenly grabbing your hair when you sucked even harder on the bulb in your mouth. But he didn't try to stop you, or guide you, he just kept it there and hissed in a breath through his teeth as you continued.

When your jaw had had enough of a break you tried to get right back to it, but he shoved your face back between his legs and groaned.

"Not yet," he snapped, "keep licking my balls— fuck, like that… so dirty, baby…"

When it was time for you to stop that and get back to the main event, he made it pretty clear; he pushed your head back and shoved his cock into your mouth, groaning lowly as he let go and let you get back to it. He seemed to like how eager you were now, not stopping you to slow you down like before.

You twisted your hand around him, because everything was plenty slippery enough to do that, as you bobbed your head; obscene slurping noises filled the room and you felt like a proper whore now, spoiling him with the absolute best head you had to offer, using your mouth to pleasure him until you couldn't remember any other purpose for it.

After a few minutes of that, he yanked you off of his cock by your hair, making you gasp and blink up at him. "Is it good, daddy?" you asked with a smile.

He slapped you quickly on the cheek, and you yelped a bit as your face spun to the side. But you moaned, too. "You like that?" he realized.

"Yeah," you sighed, "unless you don't want me to."

He laughed breathlessly. "No, it's hot— you're such a whore, baby, keep sucking…"

He guided you back, pushing his cock onto your tongue with just his thumb until you could wrap your lips around him again and continue your work.

"Fuck yeah," he sighed, head falling back again.

With each bob of your head, you took him a little deeper— deeper, deeper, until the tip breached your throat and he moaned loudly as you gagged.

"Yeah, choke on it," he encouraged, "show me what you can do— fuck, baby…"

Deeper, deeper, until his whole head was past the back of your throat and you fought the urge to swallow, knowing you'd have to start all over.

"Shit, that's good," he mumbled. "Really fucking good…"

You took him deeper still, until all of a sudden your lips were at his base and his dick was further than you ever thought possible.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, stroking your hair, "you— fuck, baby, that throat… you've got a fucking talent, kid."

You did not expect to get wet from him calling you that… maybe it's just because you never thought he'd say it in a time like this. But it made your thighs clench together and your hips shift.

"No wonder this is what you wanted to do, huh? Wanted to show me your little party trick, take my cock down your fuckin' throat?" he snarled. "Bet you do this all the fucking time, a blowjob for a fix or more rations or something else you want…"

You shook your head, and he laughed a bit.

"No? You're a good girl?"

You nodded, moaning around him.

"Then what are you doing blowing me for pills, huh? Is that what good girls do?"

You shook your head, but he pulled you off by your hair again.

"Say it," he ordered. "Is that what good girls do, suck cock for drugs?"

"No," you answered.

"No sir," he corrected.

"No, sir," you repeated, heat pooling between your legs until you worried you'd drip on his floor.

"Keep sucking, slut," he ordered, putting you back in your place literally and figuratively. "Show me what a bad girl you are— yeah, fuck, show me how you use that whore mouth, fuck—"

You struggled to get back into your pace when he was holding your head, moving you the way he wanted. Unlike before, he was speeding you up, faster and faster until he was basically just fucking your mouth. You did your best to use your hand, but eventually just gave up and kept your throat open, letting him use you however he liked.

"Gonna come in that pretty mouth," he promised, biting his lip for a moment. "Fuck, gonna fill that little mouth— don't swallow it 'til I say so."

You tried to nod, but your movements were controlled by him now; you felt his cock flex and pulse, and you shut your eyes in anticipation of it.

"No, fuck, keep them open," he pleaded, "look up at me while I come— yes, fuck, fuck!"

As he came, you sighed through your nose with relief. You were already thinking about getting that baggy of pills, about how deliciously high you were gonna be tonight, all because you did this. It took longer than you expected, but it was relatively painless— except for your jaw, and your throat, and your cheek, and your knees…

"Show me," he ordered, and you opened your mouth to carefully pool his spend on your tongue. "Mm," he hummed proudly when you displayed it all for him, holding your chin so he could turn your face either way and get a good look at what he'd done to you.

It was humiliating, sort of, and yet you felt proud of yourself when he looked at you like that.

"Good, baby, you can swallow now," he offered, and you did so quickly— but it didn't quite get the taste off your tongue.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you were about to try to stand up, maybe thank him for letting you do this instead of paying for the pills, but you realized this wasn't over yet just by the way he was looking at you.

"Come up here," he encouraged, patting his thigh and smiling down at you. "Let's see what else you can do."

With shaky knees, you stood up and took your pants off from around your ankles, climbing up to straddle his lap. "Are we really gonna—?"

He interrupted you by grabbing your hips and already starting to give commands. "Over here, baby, like this— there you go…"

He had you right where he needed you in order to guide his cock up to your hole and slide you down onto him. From the second his tip breached your opening, you gasped.

"Tight fuckin' pussy," he grunted, his top lip curling in a snarl for just a second.

He kept pushing you down until your inner thighs were pressed to his jeans, and he watched you shiver as his cock stirred places deep inside you— too deep, you'd thought before, for a cock to reach.

"Go ahead," he instructed, "ride."

You lifted yourself up and down, whimpering as his thick cock stretched you; it was taking you longer than you expected to adjust to it, but you almost didn't want to…

"Too big?" he wondered with a smug smirk.

"I-I can take it," you said, not sounding especially confident.

"You do this a lot?" he interrogated. "Ride big cocks?"

"No," you promised, "I don't— fuck…"

He laughed a little, and moved you so you had to pick up your pace a bit. You had to hold onto the couch to keep your balance as a wavering moan jumped from your lips. "Feels good, baby? Feels nice and thick, givin' that pussy a stretch?" he taunted.

"Yeah," you panted, "feels good."

"Who feels good?"

"You— Joel, it's you, you feel so good, you feel so fucking good," you babbled pathetically, moving faster again. He moved your hands from the back of the couch to his shoulders, before putting his grip back on your hips.

"Keep riding, baby," he instructed, "keep riding my cock, yeah, like that…"

Your head fell back and a low groan slid from your throat. "Joel," you moaned, "fuck, so deep…"

"You know I had to use this whole pussy, baby, every inch," he grinned. "Of course I'm deep— it's all mine, isn't it? I can go as deep as I want."

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding.

"I can go as hard as I want," he continued.

"Yes!"

"I can go as slow as I want," he added, laughing when you whined at the way he forced your pace to slow down again. "What's the rush, baby? Why are you always trying to get it over with? I know you fucking like it."

He held your face for just a second before he slapped it— then he did it again, again… just when you thought he'd never stop slapping you, he did, only to move his hand down to wrap around your neck. The way you gasped in anticipation, your walls restricting around him excitedly, gave you away completely.

"Shit, you like that too?" he grinned, massaging your neck so hard that it already made your head spin. You nodded.

He tightened his grip until your gasp was cut short and you were totally at his mercy, static filling your brain.

"That's it— fuck, you get really tight when I choke you," he noticed when he let go, and you coughed a little but moaned impatiently. "You want more? Shit… fucking slut."

He choked you again, your hips struggling to keep up the pace when all the air was gone; but that didn't seem to bother him much, if anything he liked seeing you struggle.

Still, he kept one hand on your hips to guide you, occasionally exploring with it so he could rub your thigh or play with your tits. It made you more aware that he'd never even taken his boots off while you were fully nude, grinding in his lap while he just sat back and watched you. You felt so inferior; why did it feel so good?

"Joel," you gasped when his roaming hand rubbed over your clit briefly. He smirked.

"Here, baby?" he teased, drawing the gentlest circles on your bud. "Want me to play with your little pussy, that's what you need?"

"Yes, fuck, please," you begged, but your words were cut short when the hand on your neck tightened again. He rubbed your clit hard, but you couldn't scream while he choked you, and your whole body felt like it was filled with pressure as he fucked up into you off the couch.

"Fuck, you soak me every damn time I choke you," he noticed; his voice was the only one in the room now with your moans silenced, and yet he sounded so far away past the ringing in your ears.

When he let go, you breathed in a deep gasp and moaned much louder than you meant to.

"Bounce on it, come on," he encouraged roughly, smacking your ass to kick you back into gear; you held on tight to his shoulders and swirled your hips, moaning shamelessly now at the feeling of his cock filling your sensitive pussy.

"Joel," you sobbed, "fuck, I— so good, I wanna— oh god—"

He slapped you one more time to get you back to your senses. "What's that, baby?" he pressed.

"I— I— fuck," you stammered, unable to get any other words out. I'm gonna come if you don't stop. But he didn't need to hear you say it, he already knew.

"You want more?" he grunted, watching your face closely. "You want more, baby? Say it."

Another hard slap to the face seemed to fix the part of your brain that makes words, and you spoke more coherently. "I want more," you whined, "fuck me harder, Joel, I want it!"

He grabbed you by your fucking neck and threw you off of him, onto the couch, with a sneer. As he shoved your head down and yanked your hips up, you arched your back to get yourself in position for him; but instead he smacked your ass hard and your back jolted up the other way.

"Slut," he scolded roughly, giving the other cheek a spank next.

You nodded against the couch. "I am, I am," you admitted with a sigh.

"Fucking dirty slut," he repeated, getting up on his knees to clumsily guide his cock to your hole; and you both groaned when he slipped in. "God," he choked, fucking you fast and deep right away, "so fuckin' tight— no baby, no no—"

He shoved your lower back down again when it tried to arch up, a natural response to his cock hitting the deepest parts of you. You yelped each time, a sharp pang in your gut with every thrust, but he fucked you as hard and deep as he wanted regardless.

"S'better— keep it like this, show me that ass," he ordered roughly as his gaze went back and forth from your twisted face of pain to his cock slamming into your cunt. "Good girl."

Even when it was getting battered to all fuck, your pussy managed to give him a nice squeeze when he said that.

"Real cute ass, too," he added, and you jumped a bit when his thumb brushed over your other hole. "Should I fuck it?"

"Joel," you gasped, not answering his question.

"Do you want me to?"

After hesitating, you shook your head.

"No?" he pressed.

"No," you admitted in a pout.

"Ask me not to," he ordered.

"Don't… don't fuck my ass, Joel, please…" you obliged, not sure if he was taunting you before he did it anyways or what. You both knew that you were in no position to stop him.

"What's that? You don't want it?"

"No, Joel, please! Not there!" you pleaded again, a little more emphatically.

"So I can't?"

You hesitated again. "You can… I just don't want you to," you relented, and he laughed.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm not gonna," he promised. "Pussy's too good. You're just cute when you're scared."

You couldn't say if that was true, but one thing you did discover was that you came faster when you were scared; it was already reaching the point of no return, that feeling deep inside. It was building faster than you could handle it, like he was forcing the pleasure to overtake your body— like your body obeyed him before you now. "God, fuck, fuck—" you choked out weakly, starting to shake all over.

"Close?" he noticed, and you nodded. "Not 'til I say so."

"Fuck, Joel, c'mon," you whined, getting another spank for your insolence.

"Not 'til I fuckin' say so," he insisted, speaking through his teeth as he kept a bruising grip on your hips. "Better not fuckin' come until I say, got it? Or you're not getting your pills."

"Okay, okay," you panted, "not gonna come unless you let me… I'll come when you say, just please…"

He chuckled a little, making you whimper in the back of your throat when he angled his hips to push his cock as absolutely deep as you could go; you'd never gotten a stomach ache from sex before, but he was churning everything inside you and making your whole body his plaything. Was that why he was going to make you wait to come? To make sure you knew how easily he owned you?

'Cause then it wasn't really necessary; you already knew, it was obvious.

"Good girl," he praised again, and you shivered all over; he fucked you harder, keeping up a ruthless pace, and you knew he was close.

At least, you hoped he was close, 'cause you weren't sure how much more of this you could take.

"Whose is this, baby?" he asked in a rough voice.

"Yours, yours," you promised with a whimper, "s'all yours, daddy, everything— s'all for you."

"Damn right," he grunted in agreement. "You're mine, baby— my whore, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," you agreed fervently, "fuck I'm gonna come, Joel, please… please let me—"

"Come, whore."

He groaned as it hit you— he must have felt it— and you made a sound you were pretty sure you'd never made before as your fingers clung tightly to the cushion under you.

His pace faltered and you were so lost in your ecstasy that you didn't even question it… until he slowed down to a near stop, grunting weakly with every stuttered thrust into you.

"Oh god," he moaned, "that was good."

When you realized, it was far too late. "Shit, fuck!" you spat. "You came inside?!"

"You said 'whatever I wanted'," he recalled, not seeming to feel very guilty for what he'd done.

"I said I wanted to blow you," you remembered, starting to sober up very quickly, "and you fucked me— and you fucking came inside, asshole, what the fuck am I gonna do if—"

His grip tightened on your neck again, and you stopped. "Quit fucking whining or I'll give you another load," he warned, letting go of your neck a second later and finally pulling out.

You swallowed, awkwardly laying your sore hips down on the couch. "You could… really do that? You already came twice."

"I lied— it has been that long," he admitted. "And with a tight pussy like this to fuck?"

He looked over at you, grabbing your thigh and lifting it so he could see his come leaking from your abused hole.

"Yeah, I could go again," he assured you, patting your ass gently after he let it drop back down. "You'd have to suck me for a while though, get me hard again…"

You sat up, slowly, and found more soreness in your muscles than you expected. "How many pills would I get? If I did that?"

He looked at you and smirked. "Whatever you want, baby," he promised, and you absent-mindedly licked your lips. He laughed as you leaned forward, getting on your knees beside him so you could put your head down in his lap. "Really? You were just bitching at me, figured you'd wanna leave and go shower so you could wash all that come out, try not to get knocked up."

You lifted his softening cock up to your lips, suckling at the tip and humming at the taste of yourself on his skin.

"But you wanna blow me again, huh?" he continued, voice raspier as he pet the back of your head. "Wanna get me hard so I can fuck that come back into you?"

You didn't respond to his question, just started to find your rhythm again until you heard him moan lowly as you sucked.

"Damn, baby… gonna get all the pills you want…" he mumbled his promises. "Gonna be my little whore, right? Gonna take care of daddy?"

Shutting your eyes tight, you hummed around him; this was far from over— this was never gonna be over. This was the new normal. At least you could keep your rations… hopefully.

"Yeah, that's what I thought…"

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: afab! fem! reader x john price, sex, probably unprotected, manhandling, oral sex, masturbation, sex toys, its a drabble not proof read

"Y'very prett', luv."

"Mm." Your eyes, half-lidded by the dim lighting of the room. A large, calloused hand caressing the soft curve of your ass, touch gentle and sweet. You felt good, too good for a bastard like Price, master manipulator and man whore to women. He loved the way you sat on his cock, riding him, back arching as you hid your moans into your own shoulder.

'Course, he could help ya, rub the swollen nub of your clit, puffy bundle of nerves like that throbbed for attention. But you felt too fucking good for him to care about your orgasm. Your hips rolling in a fixed rhythm, pussy squeezing 'im real good. You oozed arousal, left a creamy ring of pleasure dripping down his cock; if he didn't know better he'd bust a baby into you.

So damn tempted to just ruin your future, poor thing. All you prolly wanted was some fun with your neighbor, little one night stand. He was such a creep - you were sure he couldn't keep his eyes off of you since you moved in. Leaving his windows wide opened, gave you a lovely view of his life, couldn't help but welcome him to the same luxury; the one of you fingering yourself near your window.

Such a tease, made Price glad you finally caved and came by for a good fuckin'. Didn't know if he could take much more of your painfully slow rubs against your clit, loved making him brood and grunt over the sex toy that got to treat you rather than himself. By the end of your "sessions" he was left drooling, fisting his cock and pretending it was your pretty hands pawing at him. 'magined you had a gentle touch, mischievous too, softly nipping just to earn a thrustful into your throat.

However, reality was so much harder on him. You were such a good fuckin' girl. Let him grab you by the throat or hair without a whimper, maybe a mewl or whine just so your womb could be kissed by the head of his cock again. All the nights he imagined fucking you until you couldn't walk were humbled when you made him cum with just some kitten licks to the cum beading slit of his cock. Felt his whole body shake and shiver a nice warm load into your mouth.

Fucking succubus you were, pushing him into the bed while he was already so vulnerable and pliant. Crying as you bounced on his dick like an energetic pup. Let him take a few slaps and grabs at your ass and breasts. Pinching and tugging your nippes as a way to "get back at you."

Sure, Price, you're the boss. S'long as you gift another splatter of your warm seed.

[forsworned]

Okay, okay, hear me out . I neeed a y/n sweet innocent thing who works with 141 (probably computer shit) idk but she wanted to step out her shell & goes out drinking with the boys were she loses a bet with soap & he makes y/n wear a skimpy outfit like those " hot nurse or maid" outfits around the team for a day and it makes price and/or ghost go absolutely feral . The end. Please and thank you p s love your writing.

Author's note: You know normally I do not do these sort of requests because I think that the whole like oh y/n needs to dress in something slutty because she lost a bet schtick is like somewhat demeaning. Like I'm all for it happening to the 141 or whatever but, I put my own spin on it, so even if you don't enjoy it I will but thank you for supporting me anon <3 also screaming at the images I chose for this hahaha

Despite the fact that being in the military was a constant inner battle of not becoming a barrack bunny, it made it a bit easier knowing that 90% of the men were just straight-up fucking whores. So when you lose 7-6 in back-to-back rounds of Blackjack to Johnny, he thinks it's funny to propose a bet that leaves you practically bare-ass naked to every soldier on base.

"'ll be like wearin' a bikini." He says.

To which you can give him a piercing glare that sends an unpleasant shudder up his spine, but regardless he's laughing his ass off. It's not exactly an everyday occurrence that Johnny is winning bets against you so he's taking advantage of the opportunity to embarrass you just as much as you do him.

Wolf whistles and cat calls are heard from the common area that the 141 was currently lounging in, and their ears perk up at the sound of heels clicking against the floor.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, you really wore it, bonnie." Johnny eyes are twinkling and his grin is stretched from ear to ear when he gets a gander at you.

You're wearing the sluttiest maid outfit you could have ever conjured up from many, many, many Halloween's ago when you were in your Chicks Gone Wild Era (iykyk) and Price, Kyle and Simon are flabbergasted by your appearance. Kyle is dropping his spoon that he just stirred his coffee with, Simon is half turning the page to his book and Price just straight up chokes on his London Fog, sputtering it all over his MacBook.

"Fuck you." You mutter, plopping down on the couch next to Simon as you readjust the mobcap on your head. Your dress is riding up as you sit, but you cross your legs and Price is handing you a pillow to cover yourself up to which you sheepishly smile up at him and thank him.

"Why are ye complainin'? Y'look good, bonnie."

"You put her up to this?" Kyle asks, bewildered at the situation unfolding.

"Lookin' good, Serg!" A passing herd of soldiers call out to you as they chuckle amongst themselves and continue to whistle at you.

You shake your head and turn to Johnny with an exasperated look. "Is this what you wanted? To embarrass me?"

"It's not very becoming of you, Johnny." Price murmurs against his mug before taking a sip but it's evident that his face is reddening by the second by your scanty appearance.

"Oh, she does it to me all th' time!" Johnny throws his hands up in half frustration and half amusement.

But Simon on the other hand is silent. He doesn't really know what to say, but he's starting to feel the warmth rushing between his legs.

"L.t., thoughts?"

And Johnny knows exactly what the fuck he's doing while he's shooting him that shit-eating grin that makes Simon want to fucking bumrush the absolute shit out of the Scotsman.

Admittedly this has Kyle and Price's tongues poking their cheeks as they await his answer.

"Y'r a fuckin' slag, Johnny."

And that causes the room to erupt into laughter as you're all clapping your knees and keeling over. Johnny is slightly embarrassed by the jab, but nonetheless, is laughing along. It was nice to have a little laugh in the 141.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (8/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, fingering, mutual masturbation, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence, some kind of sexual harassment ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"You are pathetic, like all your kin. Thank the gods you don't make me warm your bed, but your child asks about you and I don't know what to answer. That her father would rather spend time with whores in King's Landing than with his own daughter?" She heard her mother's hiss as if from afar, seeing darkness all around her, recognising in the vague outline of objects that she was standing in the corridor, by the door of her chamber.

How old could she have been then?

Had it really happened, or was it just a dream?

For some reason, her head hurt a lot.

"The Red Keep is no place for a little girl. Should I take her there to watch the lords around my brother fucking kill each other for power, let them marry her off to the first better rich old fool?"

"Would you rather she live without a father? Will you flee from that duty too?"

A long, uncomfortable silence ensued, which after a while was broken by the bitter, disappointed voice of her father.

"She resembles you too much."

She opened her eyes, feeling that the light was blinding her. She muttered, twisting on the soft bed, hearing someone's conversation fall silent a moment later.

"My Lady?"

She glanced sideways at the figure of the Maester leaning over her, his hand touching her head.

"Thank the gods, the fever has subsided. How do you feel?"

She swallowed hard, trying to remember what had happened and where she was, confused and frightened, feeling like her skull was about to explode from the pain.

And then she remembered.

His full lips pressed against hers, his hand between her thighs.

And a dim memory of what followed, the blow and her fall, his voice in the darkness, his hot breath on her face, the outline of his jaw in the candlelight, his sticky, hot kiss.

Sleep, little sister.

Your brother will stay by your side.

She sighed, tired and resigned, recognising that this was surely just a dream, her desire for someone to be there for her, to care and look after her.

She wondered if Lady Floris felt satisfaction now.

She knew she had partially earned it – despite knowing her cousin was betrothed, she did not push him away when his lips pressed against hers and his hand went under the fabric of her robe.

She acknowledged with surprise that she did not resent her.

"My head hurts a lot." She confessed at last, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

The Maester nodded in understanding, handing her some herbal infusion in a cup.

"Drink this, my Lady. It will soothe the pain. You should spend the day resting." He said.

They both shuddered as the door to her chamber opened: her cousin stepped inside dressed in an emerald tunic, his hair slightly damp, as if he had just taken a bath, tied back with a black ribbon.

"Leave us alone." He ordered, looking at her calmly with a gaze from which, for some reason, her heart beat harder.

"Your Highness." Said the Maester and bowed, disappearing after a moment behind the door.

Prince Aemond approached her lazily and surprised her as he sat on the bed beside her, leaning towards her, his hand touching her forehead as if he was checking something.

"Throughout the night, your body burned with fever. Thankfully, it's waned." He murmured, saying it more to himself than to her, sliding his fingers down her face, brushing his thumb against her cheek.

She felt a pleasant warmth in her lower abdomen as she realised that what she felt was not a dream.

He had really stayed with her.

She swallowed quietly, unable to look away from his gaze, her hand involuntarily touching his wrist.

"Will your betrothed forgive you?" She mumbled out, the guilt she felt like a needle stuck in her heart.

She didn't know this girl, but she had taken something from her.

She blinked as her cousin grinned broadly, a glint of madness in his gaze from which her heart pounded harder in her chest, the space between her thighs pulsed greedily around nothing.

"She is no longer my concern." He whispered, forming the letter o out of his mouth as if he were mocking, amused by the situation.

She looked at him for a moment and shook her head, not understanding what he was trying to say.

"What do you mean?"

"I have broken our betrothal. Just moments ago, at a meeting of the Small Council, I introduced to the assembled guard who was assigned to you, and whom Floris dismissed. No one else walked down the corridor, as they would have been spotted by the other guards. Her jealousy was a danger to the Crown. What if she thought she should also attack my sister, Helaena, fearing that I might also cohabit with her? My brother agreed with me that she could not remain in the Red Keep and left it at dawn today." He hummed, clearly pleased with himself, trailing his fingertips along her neck – his words made her eyes widen in disbelief.

He had simply sent her away.

Had this been his plan all along?

Had he kissed her then, in the library, hoping Floris would see it and do something ill-considered?

She didn't know why she felt an unpleasant stab of disappointment and regret, her eyebrows arching in sadness as she lowered her eyes, trying not to cry.

"What's that look? Hm?" He asked, catching her gently by the chin, lifting her face towards him so that she looked at him again.

"I admire how thoughtful everything you do is. Every step, every detail. Every gesture and sound." She whispered, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in her throat, fighting not to show him weakness.

"You think I planned this." He concluded, cocking his head to the side. "I wish I had. But you must believe me, dōna hāedar, that it was merely a matter of coincidence."

Dōna hāedar.

Sweet little sister.

"Lord Baratheon will not leave it like that. He will break the alliance." She whispered, and he snorted, leaning towards her, sinking his hand into her hair.

"So I'll take Vhagar and explain the situation to him. Mmm, I could take you with me – you would present to him the injustice that has befallen you at the hands of his daughter, and then you would warm my bed in one of the chambers in Storm's End." He said lightly, as if he thought that, indeed, this was a great plan with a guarantee of success.

"You would force him to listen to what you are doing to me." She sighed as she felt his thumb run over her lips, parting them, sinking his finger into their fleshy, moist structure.

She shuddered as his hand slid down to the material of her nightgown, untying it, a moan of surprise stuck in her throat as he spread it open, exposing her bare breasts.

"– I am a free man now, hāedar –" He gasped, leaning lower – her hands clenched into fists on either side of her head as the tip of his pink, wet tongue ran lazily over her hard, puffy nipple. "– and as your big brother, I have precedence in your bed –"

She threw her head back with an innocent, girlish moan as his lips clamped around her nipple, sucking on it gently as if he were a baby – her hands in some involuntary reflex entwined in his long white hair, pressing his face against her breast, feeling the shudders and pulsations surging through her cunt each time his tongue rolled around the sensitive spot.

"– ah –" She gasped, involuntarily rocking her hips, feeling this kind of sensation for the first time in her life – she didn't understand what purpose it was supposed to serve and she felt exposed, but on the other hand what he was doing was wonderfully pleasurable and exciting, her body responding to his caresses eagerly.

She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back her smile of satisfaction when his hand, clenched earlier on her breast, slid down her stomach lower, pulling impatiently at the material of her nightgown, searching blindly for the warmth between her thighs.

They both moaned, and her fingers pressed his face tighter to her body as his fingertips dug into her dripping folds, swollen with desire – her legs bent at the knees spread involuntarily, shamelessly asking for more.

He released her breast from between his lust-swollen lips and looked at her as if he had completely lost his mind, his gaze dark and shining as he lay down next to her on his side, guiding her hand to the twitching bulge in his breeches exactly as he had the evening before.

She didn't know why she was so willing, why when his forehead pressed against hers and their lips found each other in a passionate, loud kiss, filled with their sigh of delight, her fingers undid the buckles of his tunic and untied the material of his breeches, reaching fearlessly for what lay beneath them.

He closed his eyes and sighed, his body shuddering as he felt the gentle touch of her smooth hand on his erection, hot with desire, throbbing all over under her fingers. His free hand in some subconscious, helpless reflex sank into her hair, his lips melting with hers in a sweet caress seemed to seek reassurance that this would remain their secret.

The tips of their tongues licked against each other with their grunts of delight as his hand sunk into her leaking, silky cunt, circling around her small, delicate pearl while hers trailed over his throbbing manhood, teasing it.

He was hard as a rock.

"– squeeze it –" He breathed out into her mouth between one click of their wet lips and the next, taking his hand from between her thighs for a moment, clearly wanting to show her what he meant.

She opened her eyelids with difficulty, dulled by the sensations and his slick tongue sliding between their kisses down her throat, peering curiously at what she was touching. He stopped the caress for a moment, their faces pressed together, their gazes directed downwards.

"– here – right here – just like that, all the way to the top –" He whispered in a voice trembling with desire.

A quiet, helpless groan broke from his lips, enveloping her in the warmth of his breath as she obeyed him, clasping her fingers at the very base of his long, pink cock, squeezing it to the very tip of it, thick and smooth, dripping with his own wetness.

"– how is it possible for something like this to fit inside a woman? –" She mumbled and heard him smile, his hand returned back between her thighs, running warningly over her leaking slit.

"– I'll show it to you myself – one day –" He murmured, his lower lip running over hers in a gesture inviting her to another kiss, which she accepted with unprecedented eagerness, letting his hand sink into her hair to pull her closer, refusing to let her escape his starved mouth.

"– harder –" He demanded in a voice hoarse with desire between their loud, passionate kisses, and she smiled involuntarily under her breath – her hand, in accordance with his desire, clamped tighter on his root, causing him to let out a surprised, boyish moan from his throat.

Her heart fluttered harder in her chest at the thought that she didn't know he was capable of making such sounds.

So innocent.

Now, in this moment, he was helpless, vulnerable to hurt.

He craved.

And she couldn't waste this chance.

The space between her thighs was delighted with her plan, feeling his fingers circling around her swollen bud with cruel precision, their breaths heavy as their tips pushed against her entrance, opening her on their thickness.

"– lēkia –" She breathed out, a startled, sweet moan of euphoria bursting from her lips directly into his throat as his fingers forced their way deep inside her, only to slide out and repeat it all over again.

He sighed as she squeezed his swollen erection tighter in response – their hands found a shared rhythm, their hips rolling back and forth at the same time, their lips melting into hot kisses filled with excitement and impatience.

"– don't stop – mmm –" He purred into her lips, panting hard along with her, shivers of wondrous delight shaking her body again and again each time his fingertips hit the sweet spot deep inside her, from which she felt the tickle in her lips and nipples.

"– I – o-oh, gods –" She whimpered, feeling her inevitable peak approaching, his hand from her hair slid lower to her breasts, clamping down on it as if he himself was trying to hold back the inevitable.

"– go on – come on my fingers –" He exhaled, and those words were enough to make her body shake with a sweet shudder, from which a startled, innocent moan escaped her throat – she felt his fingers stop moving inside her, wanting only to feel her fleshy walls pulsing around their length, sucking them inside her.

"– hāedar –" He whispered and gasped all over with a sigh of relief when, after her next sure squeeze, his pearly, sticky release spilled over the snow-white material of her nightgown.

They lay like this, panting heavily, welted and sweaty with emotion, pressing their foreheads against each other, his hand lingering on her bare breast and deep inside her womanhood while her fingers stroked gently his throbbing, quivering manhood.

Despite what they had done, and that it was certainly a sin, there was also something innocent about it – their desires were pure and sincere, devoid of subtext, seeking only the release of tension, closeness and security.

When she opened her eyes she saw that his gaze was fixed on her chest, his lips slightly parted in a deep, uneven breath.

She thought he longed to do what he had always done with his lover – to sink his face between her plump breasts and allow himself to be embraced by her – but he knew that she knew his secret and that if he did so, he would expose himself to ridicule and confirm his brother's words.

She lifted her free hand and gently placed it on his, inviting him to sink his fingertips deeper into the soft structure of her bosom – he sighed when he looked at her, as if he didn't know what he thought of it himself, and after a moment he leaned down and nestled his face into the crook of her neck.

His hand remained on her breast – encourage by her gesture, he played with it between his fingers as her arms embraced and cuddled him into her, and he didn't push her away or say a word.

Looking down at her fingers sticky with his spend, her other hand combing lazily through his long white hair, she thought she had tamed not one dragon, but two.

They were both silent – there was something safe about that. It seemed to her that they both knew that whoever spoke first would show weakness – not of flesh but of character – and neither of them could afford to do so.

Desire was like thirst or hunger, obvious and needing no explanation, indicative of nothing more in fact it was.

It didn't need feelings.

"Criston Cole is gathering our army. He and my uncle will soon march for Harrenhal." He hummed, enveloping her neck with his warm breath, his hands closed over her breasts and her womanhood moved, stroking both places, making her shiver.

He shared his knowledge with her because he was proud of himself and felt a sense of satisfaction – he sought confirmation of his genius, her praise and understanding, her gaze of admiration that he so desperately desired.

Or was it a test?

Was he telling her this because he wanted to see if she contacted her father?

They both shifted position, lying on their sides, looking straight into each other's eyes – there was something in his gaze and grin that filled her with anxiety.

"Daemon is expecting our answer. What he doesn't know, however, is that Cole will actually head off to a different location."

She blinked, looking at him confused.

"Why?" She asked and sighed as he gently took her hand in his, looking at her in simultaneous concentration and excitement, as if he was delighted that she had asked about it.

She thought in disbelief that he was acting like a little boy.

He confided in her.

"– your smooth hand is Dragonstone –" He said, placing her hand on the bed and pointed with a circular motion of his finger to the sheet around it. "– all around it is the sea –"

"– this –" He murmured, his other hand sinking lazily into the skin of her exposed, bare breast, making her involuntarily clench her thighs. "– is King's Landing – and this –"

He whispered, slowly running his knuckles down her smooth stomach, a quiet sigh escaped her lips as his fingertips sank gently into the fleshy, moist folds of her soft womanhood.

"– this, dōna hāedar, is Harrenhal – everyone desires it, for it is the fortress that opens the way to the North – moreover, it is currently besieged by your father –" He gasped, teasing her throbbing slit with his fingers, causing her lips to part in a ragged breath, feeling the pleasant tingle of pleasure run down her spine.

She felt with shame that her nipples had hardened, pointy and sensitive, her little cunt all swollen from the waves of tickling ecstasy into which his words and touch had brought her.

"– this –" He continued, sliding his fingers, wet with her moisture up her thigh and knee. "– this is Winterfell – and with it the whole of the North –"

"– however, there is another important, inconspicuous place –" He said contentedly, returning his hands to her palm, his fingers running over her wrist. "– here is Rook's Rest – a small fortress that allows my sister-whore to cross to the continent – however, if you cut it off –"

He said and made a movement with the side of his hand across her wrist, as if he were cutting it off with a dagger.

Her heart thumped harder in her chest as she suddenly comprehended.

"– you want to cut her off from the land –" She muttered and he hummed, cocking his head, his lips curved in expression as if her words gave him satisfaction and tickled his ego.

"– does your brother know about this? –" She asked, and his expression changed – his jaw clenched in displeasure, his iris turned black, his brow straightened.

Her question frustrated him and destroyed his pleasant vision, she thought as he took his hands from her warm body.

"– Aegon did not devote his life to the art of war or the complexities of warfare – he preferred to drink and play with his whores –" He said with a wide smile that, if it were not for the look in his eyes, she might have considered joyful.

She knew, however, that he was furious.

She raised herself up on her elbows, letting the material of her nightgown slide even lower, exposing her shoulders and stomach.

"– don't do it – tell him –" She muttered, and he stood up, infuriated, and immediately tied the material of his breeches, displeased with the direction this discussion had taken.

"– I don't recall asking you for your opinion – it was a mistake to introduce a woman into these complicated, masculine matters –" He said coldly in a tone that suggested that one more ill-chosen word on her part and he would lose patience despite everything that had happened between them.

She, however, knew that what he was doing would sooner or later lead to a catastrophe of which she too would become a victim.

She had no intention of dying because of his pride.

"– your brother sees you as a threat – he is disturbed by your behaviour and is tense in your presence –" She said, looking at him pleadingly.

He, to her surprise snorted and laughed, looking down at her, a wide grin on his face.

"– he's afraid of me –" He said in a way as if it was his great achievement for which she should praise and kiss him.

She shook her head feeling that her face expressed terror.

"– yes, he's afraid of you – and that's not good information neither for you nor for me – gods, you can't let him stop trusting you – you're balancing on a thin line and forgetting that it doesn't matter if he fits the role or not, he's the King –" She said in a breaking voice, feeling her heart pounding like mad in her chest.

He stood over her with his lips slightly parted, breathing loudly, as if he was boiling inside, not knowing what to make of her words.

His gaze fled lower for a moment, to her breasts, as if her bared flesh and the memory of the pleasure they had given each other distracted him, and then back to her face.

He was silent.

He hesitated.

This was her chance.

"– I beg you to tell him – in the solitude of the chamber, so that no words are said in public – so that he cannot accuse you of plotting behind his back –" She whispered, shifting towards him on her hands, settling herself finally in front of him on her knees, looking up at him pleadingly.

He swallowed hard and clenched his hands into fists, as if struggling to restrain himself from touching her – her gaze fled down to the material of his breeches, under which his manhood pulsed.

"– this fool will demand Harrenhal – he won't understand – he wants great fortresses and great victories, not realising that war is composed of cunning and guile –" He said quietly, looking her straight in the face, his lips parted as if he was thirsty and she was a fleshy, wet fruit.

"– so let's convince him together – I know how to speak to him – he enjoys me and my honesty – he'll feel he's making important decisions, even though they've long since been made for him –" She said, breathing hard as he did, feeling how much she was risking by conversing with him so directly.

She saw something sinister flash in his eye, his tongue running over his lower lip.

"– do you let him touch you? –"

She blinked and snorted in disbelief, shaking her head as if she wasn't sure if he had really asked about it.

"– no – his tongue doesn't burst in between my lips and his hand doesn't seek the heat between my thighs –" She said and they both fell silent, panting quietly, as if something in her words aroused both her and him.

They shuddered and pulled away from each other as they heard someone's footsteps outside the door – her hands immediately covered her shoulders and breasts with her nightgown, while he quickly buckled his tunic.

When a quiet knock sounded she glanced at him and only spoke up when he looked as if nothing had happened between them.

She thought with amusement that because of their elation, his hair didn't look as perfect as usual.

"Come." She called out, and a servant came in with a tray, saying that she had brought the morning meal for her as prescribed by the Maester.

Her cousin left without a word, letting her eat in peace, and she exhaled heavily, spreading a piece of bread with berry confiture, thinking she was treading on thin ice.

She was neither his lover, nor his sister, nor his servant, but a chaos of his desires and needs.

Gods, have mercy on me, she thought.

To her surprise, as she was being examined by the Maester, who was looking at a large lump on her head, the King walked into her room.

Aegon seemed pleased that she was alive and looked healthy.

"– ah, you're awake, cousin – great news – Baratheon's whore is on her way back to her home – my brother never liked to have his toys destroyed – and I will not allow any of my family to be harmed in this fortress again –" He said lightly, walking over to the table, taking one of the jars that contained the herbs brought by the medics – he shook it, raised his eyebrows in disapproval and set it down.

She did not reply, deciding that silence in such a situation was safer.

"– he was never able to hide his jealousy or his displeasure, you know – he was forever walking around with his mouth curved in disgust, proud and vain, with his nose in his big books, as if they would make his other eye grow back –" He muttered, pacing around her bed, looking around the room.

"– you're a dragon rider and my cousin, and he gave you such a small chamber – it's inappropriate – I'll assign you another, better one, with a view of the sea – Lady Floris slept in it before, but I think she won't haunt you in your dreams – you'll be content –" He said, looking at her, and she nodded and smiled involuntarily.

"– that's it – that's the spirit – I like it – you should see Sunfyre – have you ever been in Dragon's Pit? –" He asked, as if hundreds of thoughts were going through his mind at once, and he was unable to focus on any.

"– no, my King –" She replied softly and hissed as the Maester touched a spot on the back of her head that was all sore and swollen.

"– forgive me, my Lady –" He whispered, and she nodded.

Aegon didn't seem to see this and simply went on.

"– we will travel there this afternoon, by carriage, so as not to strain you –" He said and seeing that the Maester wanted to state with certainty that this was not a good idea he raised his hand in the air, showing him not to interrupt mid-sentence. "– the fresh air will certainly do her good, and we won't spend much time there –"

Whether she wanted to or not, she had to go.

She didn't do so reluctantly, though, for indeed, she wanted to see the other dragons and the great cave they lived in.

However, as soon as the carriage doors closed behind them she realised what the true purpose of this journey was.

"I want Daemon to answer for the death of my son and I need you to help me convince my brother that I should set off to fight with him. He doesn't agree and every time he does it, he humiliates me in the eyes of the Small Council." He said with regret and frustration, from which she swallowed hard.

Oh gods.

She looked down at her hands, feeling the panic rising within her, standing between them as if between two walls that were moving closer and closer, finally colliding with each other and crushing her at the same time.

"The King must remain in King's Landing. Without you there is no point in all this." She said, looking at him expectantly.

She clenched her hands on her knees when she saw that his jaw clamped shut in rage, his eyes red from tears as his fist hit the carriage wall with all its force.

"– he's my son – you don't understand it – you're not a mother – my children are my biggest pride – they are sweet, good and kind, and now – now my son is locked in a cold stone sarcophagus underground and he's probably scared –" He mumbled out, burying his face in his hands, as if he believed that a decapitated child could wake up.

Despite the absurdity of his words, her throat tightened in sympathy, tears of sadness gathered under her eyelids as she looked at his huddled, distraught figure.

"– he's not suffering anymore – he's in a place where no one can hurt him again –" She muttered, and he sobbed loudly, as if he was only now allowing himself to truly grieve.

She swallowed hard when he reached out his arm to her, placing his elbow on his knee.

"– can you hold my hand? –" He gasped, choking on his own tears, and she felt a single, heavy tear run down her cheek.

Her hand grasped his, and his fingers tightened on hers as he cried and cried and cried.

Some part of her felt the need to embrace him and comfort him, she feared, however, that he might take this as an invitation to something else, something she did not want.

She didn't desire him that way, and his brother's fury would be immense.

So she held his hand in hers until they reached Dragon's Pit.

Sunfyre looked like a dragon straight out of fairy tales told to children – slender, long, shining as if he were made of pure gold he looked proud and towering. She smiled when she saw that the beast had pressed its head against its master's chest, and Aegon kissed its scales as if his dragon was also his child.

Something moved her at that sight, at his genuine joy and laughter.

She realised with horror that his younger brother had never smiled.

Not really.

The journey back to the Red Keep passed as she listened to his stories about their father.

"My father, and your uncle mostly forgot about having more than one child. The fucking cunt of Dragonstone was his favourite. His heiress to the throne even though he had a first-born son, for whom, after all, he had opened the womb of his first, beloved wife. Apparently he did so against her pleas, and her cries were heard throughout the fortress. And yet, my mother and my grandfather say that I should follow his example. That he was a wonderful, merciful king." He said, looking at her with a smile full of amusement, however, there was something else in his gaze: pain and fatigue.

He had not slept well for many months and only found comfort in wine.

"And your sister-wife? What is she like?" She asked, though she did not know why.

Aegon fell silent and the amusement disappeared from his face – he stared blankly out of the carriage window for a moment, as if musing.

"Her person is an eternal mystery to me. I don't usually understand what she says. But she is gentle and kind. She does not humiliate me, although she, of all our family, has the most reason to despise me." He said finally.

She swallowed silently, thinking that there was something childlike and innocent in his words, sincere and helpless, a cry of despair and a plea for help that no one answered.

She wondered if he and his brother knew how much alike they were.

She wanted to say it and had it on the tip of her tongue, but after a moment she realised that her cousin would kill her if he found out that she had described his weaknesses to his brother.

She had to balance the two of them so that they both loved her.

In some way.

When they returned to the fortress she immediately headed to her chamber, dreaming only of a warm bath.

As she stepped into her small room she reached into the back of her gown, grabbing the ties of her bodice, and opened her mouth, wanting to call out to a servant to help her.

"Where have you been?"

She looked back, terrified, clutching at the heart that had stopped in her throat hearing his cold voice – she saw his silhouette sitting on one of the chairs like a statue, his face stony and blank, his gaze dark.

Exactly as it had been when she had first seen him.

"With the King." She replied truthfully, reaching her fingers trembling with anxiety into the back of her gown again, pulling at the thin, bright ribbon, causing the whole dress to loosen.

She saw his lips tighten in fury, his nostrils twitching in a deep breath as if he was trying to control himself and not lash out at her.

"For what reason?" He asked further, tilting his head in curiosity, his wide grin indicating that he was on the verge of exploding.

"He wanted to show me Dragon's Pit and Sunfyre." She said without lowering her gaze, knowing that she could not show him fear.

She jumped up and took a step back, terrified when he suddenly burst from his chair with such fury that she only had time to snort for air and he was already at her side, grabbing her aggressively at the waist, slamming her body against the bedpost.

She sighed, resisting him passively as his free hand lifted the material of her skirt with a sharp movement, her hand gripped his wrist as his fingers sank into her womanhood and pushed against her slit, causing her discomfort and pain.

"– no – it hurts when I'm not prepared –" She exhaled, looking him straight in the eye.

They both breathed hard as something like satisfaction flashed across his face, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk full of contentment at the realisation that she wasn't wet.

That she didn't desire his brother.

He took his hand away and let her go, taking a step back and looking at her for a moment in silence.

"Mmm. I have come to you with another matter. From now on, our lessons will be held in my chamber. I wish to ensure that no one will…disturb us." He hummed softly, suddenly completely calm and pleased, the fingers of his hands rubbing against each other as if he was excited by the vision.

She sighed quietly, leaning the back of her head against the wooden column, feeling her cunt pulsate all over at the subtext she heard clearly in his words.

"So that no one disturbs my education, as I understand it?" She asked quietly, his gaze fixed on her hot and filled with something combining lust and madness.

"Indeed. What I wish to teach you requires much concentration and the privacy of the chamber." He said, and she felt her lips part wide in a thirsty sigh.

The corner of her cousin's mouth twitched in a grin, as if he remembered something, and then he moved towards the door, glancing at her over his shoulder with an expression from which a shiver ran along her spine.

"Wear the same robe as the last time. And let your hair down."

[devil-in-hiding]

Listen brother you literally singlehandedly turned me into a fuckin Price WHORE how the fuck did this happen how did i fall into this trap 💀 but you did it soooooooo just hear me out... HEAR ME OUT! price, this larger than life man who's dedicated his life to his job, this man who's written off the idea of even thinking about having a family cause he thinks he's past his prime or whatever the fuck and he's stuck in a hard place precisely because he's so proud of his accompliments as a captain while thinking that he's failed as a man at the same time. Then someone assigns him an assistant (see where i'm going with this), trying to slowly ease him into thinking about retirement and he protests so much. It's the nail in the coffin for him. He loathes the mere thought of someone invading his space and making him feel so brittle and incompetent but he doesn't have the authority to reject high command's decisions and so he agrees with gritted teeth and fire in his eyes

Then you show up and you prove to be good at what you do, but you're also everything he's low key ever dreamed of and he's STRUGGLING trying to come to terms with the fact that he'll never have you. That he's too old and that you two are in entirely different stages of your life, that he'd hold you back and that someone else would be far better suited

BUT JUST SPARE THE THOUGHT for him recognizing that you've developed a huge crush on him. Gigantic. You're suddenly so flustered around him, very unprofessional. You mess up constantly but he is by no means mad!!!!!

If anything you made his life so much sweeter omg he's SO cocky about it and he's UNBEARABLE!!! He's the definition of "I still got it ;)" and he's trying to rile you up on purpose... but he'd never go farther than some flirty comments and lingering touches. He's locked in his duty and convinced you'll move on soon. Still flattering tho

But then your crush doesn't fade. It's not going away.

It's. Not. Going. Away!!!!!!

ITS BEEN A FULL YEAR

And he's just "!!!" completely shuts down because why the hell are you still interested in him? Have you seen yourself? Have you noticed the looks you get? The looks HE gets as your boss????

But he's also thinking whether you'd like to be married, whether you'd like to have kids......and soon that's all he thinks about and all he talks about

DO YOU HEAR ME 😭😭😭 sorry this got so fucking long when its so stupid but i needed to say this

anon i love you, this is literally art because yes this is my wavelength of Price x assistant!reader

head over heels for him 10 months in after countless nights of forcing his stubborn ass to go to his quarters and get some sleep after finding him slouched over his desk, hat askew and snoring

early mornings where you are are still bleary eyed and nodding off as you try to write his calendar, only to find yourself on one of the couches a little later, surrounded by the four of them, Price seated next to you, one of HIS blankets draped over you

it’s very much a beautiful sweet cat falling for the old army dog who would bite off anyone’s hand who comes near HIS feline

he truly expects for your feelings to fade one day, more than prepared for you to find a partner, god half the base eyes you up and down as you obediently trot after him, heart in your eyes as you gaze at his strong shoulders

but that day never comes, you’re there every morning with his cuppa and a smile that is just for him, genuine and sweet.

He isn’t sure how he was deemed a worthy enough man for you to enter his life, by he’ll be damned if he lets this slip through his fingers

[miioouu]

Mean dad’s best friend! Ghost pt3

Continuation of this part. In which Price makes you feel loved. Tw: smut, age gap, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex Wc: 2.4k  

“You think you taste better? Let the sweetheart decide then, Lieutenant.” the captain’s voice boomed in the small bathroom, condescending and authoritarian, as he pushed past the lieutenant, now your face is at level with his crotch.

Your eyes were wide, yet confused when you looked at both older men, feeling the tension. Thick, it was  palpable. Thick as if it were syrup dripping from toast. But it wasn’t sweet; sour like the expression on Ghost’s face; salty, like the look Price shoots at his subordinate. It should make you crawl away, take the opportunity to slide out of the bathroom and go back to dinner, but instead, the little whimper you let out made them both turn their focus back to you. "Mmm, let's see what she'd think then" The deeper voice retorts, slapping his superior's hand away from your head so he could push you closer to the other man's bulge. In a swift movement, the sound of jeans unzipping, fabric rustling echoes between the four walls. "Don't rush her, LT". Unlike before his voice was soft, tender almost, the complete opposite of the man you're used to. He leaned back against the wall, making his hips roll forward a little, if it weren't for the gloved hand in your hair, you would've taken a step back at the sight.

So used to Ghost's mean cock, John's almost looks like a piece of art. A pink blush, tip glistening with pre, got your mouth watering, and again, if it weren't for the gloved hand in your hair, you would've delved in, relished in the taste of the oldest man. "I'm not rushing her…she's too impatient, a whore." Although it's not the first time Ghost addressed you that way, hell, that was kind of nice coming from him even, the presence of someone else made your cheeks flush red, your teeth nibbling on your lower lip. A gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the captain. He smiled, bright as sun rays, he swiped his thumb across the tender flesh "Easy sweet girl, don't be shy…" 

Soft yes, but also patronising, as if he's talking to a child, and to be honest, to him, you were one. His fingers took a hold of your chin, guiding you closer to his aching dick, he hummed, feeling the brush of your lips against his very tip. You glanced up at him for half a second, his eyes already looking down at you with hunger, you didn't hesitate to part your mouth, taking just the head and swirling your tongue around it. He chuckled after letting out a whisper of a hiss, he peeked at the slightly younger man "Trained her good, Ghost. I’ll give you that." The way he talks about you, as if you were nothing but a dog needing to be trained, needing to be tutored. As if you were nothing but a doll in their hands, made only to pleasure them…Why did the idea make your stomach flutter? Made you purr as you took more of John. “She’s a good girl. She’s my good girl.” 

Oh so now you were his? This question echoed in both your mind and the captain’s. The way he huffed, rolled his hips with slight aggression indicated that he was not agreeing. “Not yours…” He defended you; your heart skipped a beat, is this how you were supposed to be treated all this time? And how else were you supposed to thank him? Your nails found his thighs, digging in purpose to leave small crescents in their wake, your eyes closed shut, squeezed as you willingly took all of him in, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Surprised, both of them were. The captain was just not expecting so much from you, maybe now he knows, he understands why the masked man likes to mess with you so much, though he won’t deny his confusion; why make such a diligent girl cry. Him, he would’ve spoiled you, love, attention, affection, and most importantly, seeing how thirsty you are, he would’ve quenched your desires without you even having to ask. Him, he would’ve worshipped you like a goddess, the ground you walked on, the air you breathed. Ghost on the other hand was stunned by your behaviour for a whole different reason. His teeth were gritting against each other, his hands clenched in rage. Who do you think you are, pleasing a man right in front of his eyes? His blood was boiling in envy, it should be him that you’d so readily satisfy! How dare you?! How dare you give him a taste of his own medicine?! 

With bitterness, he pushed his superior away, earning whines from both of you. “Yes mine. Don’t forget who you belong to, darling.” He looked at you in anger, shoving your face between his thighs, making you take more than you can. You complained, knowing well that it wasn’t like him to listen to you. Although, this time you had some sort of hope. Teary eyes glanced to the side, meeting blue ones, silently begging to have him back, to taste him again. 

Price was an angel compared to Ghost, yes, but he was still a mean man. He hushed you, fingers combing through your hair; he didn’t help. Instead, he pushed you further onto the taller man. Your nose brushing against his pubic bone, his balls hitting your chin with each of his hard thrusts. The sight of your drooling, the sound of your choking, and the way your thighs rubbed, made the men chuckle and look at you like a prey. “Enough of you. Take it easy on the sweet girl, Ghost.” Finally he showed you mercy. John pushed him away, grabbed your arms to pull you back to your feet, but they barely touched the cold tile before you were lifted up, seated on the marble countertop. 

Ghost on your left, lips on your neck, kissing and licking and biting; usually not a fan of leaving visible marks, today he needed to claim you. His fingers were on your thighs, drawing soft circles, the action taking you aback, oddly tender coming from him. You barely had time to sigh in delight, your breath was caught in your throat at the feeling of slightly chapped lips kissing yours, coarse facial hair rubbing against your delicate cheeks. The captain’s hands left your hips, going up to paw at your breast, pinching and rolling the sensitive nobs between his calloused digits. “Look at the whore, huffing like a bitch in heat for us… you call her a sweet girl, all I see is a desperate slut. You baby her too much.” Simon argued, as if that would change the way his superior viewed you. But that jab wasn’t for him to begin with, it was for you, a reminder of what you truly were, who you were deep inside. And his tone was so mean, so cruel, after all he’d done to you, now really wasn’t the time to degrade you. The older man felt that, felt your hot tears on your cheeks, felt the way your fingers curled around his wrists, grounding you from lashing out. He pitied you, really. Such a pretty thing, young and innocent, naive and sweet, being toyed with by the big bad wolf. Confused and torn, it wasn’t his place to make decisions for you, though something deep inside begged him to do it, told him that he had to, so he did. He wrapped his arms around your waist lifting you up, only to sink you back down on his cock. “You don’t deserve her. Her pretty pussy needs a nicer man, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” You know you should push him away, disagree, or even shake your head. You knew, he carved it in your brain, that this cunny belonged to him, him only. Ghost, Ghost, Ghost  as he made you scream multiple times before. You knew the next time he’d visit you - scratch that, he won’t wait that long actually- he’d bend you over his lap to spank you, spitting out that you misbehaved, that you derailed from your trail, that you forgot who you were supposed to adore, who you were supposed to canonise. You knew all that, and yet, you nodded. Can he blame you? The older man made you feel safe, wanted, and you’re just a girl, that’s what you craved the most. “Need you, John”  You breathed out as he guided you up and down his length, knowing what to expect, supposedly.  

As cruel as he was, Ghost was also an unpredictable man. It surprised you that he didn’t curse, didn’t even fight his superior to have you squeezing on his own dick instead. It surprised you when he only huffed, quickly fixing his clothes again and storming out of the small bathroom. But of course he didn’t forget to shoot you a look; one filled with hatred, with anger and indignation, and also something you couldn’t quite pinpoint; disappointment? Regret? Sadness? 

Though you didn’t have much time to dwell on it, the tongue on your nipples snapped you out of your thoughts. “It’s ok, he’ll come back around. He’ll come back… for now, enjoy your time with me, you deserve it.” The warm voice whispered against your flesh, John leaned you back against the sturdy surface of the counter, trying to ease the tension out of your body. "You deserve better…" he meant you deserved him. A man who will kiss your neck tenderly, leave the faintest of hickeys right below your collarbones, right above the curve of your chest. A man who will slowly slip inside you, his lips leaving small pecks on your temples, who will praise you “Taking me so well… Like you were made for me, sweetheart”. His thrusts were slow, deliberate, he was taking his time to savour you and the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. He was enjoying you, the way your nails clawed at his shoulder, and the way your legs wrapped around his waist, seemingly pulling him closer to you. Your head rested on his chest, looking down, eyes zeroing on his every movement, on his abdomen contracted with every breath he took, every hiss he let out. 

His pace started out peaceful, like clear water being caressed by a soft summer breeze. Though he’s only human, drifting away from a promised heaven with each in and out, only to end up in a fiery hell. His breathing was heavy, hot against your sweaty skin, and his hips became erratic with every passing second. Never been a believer, but John never felt any closer to holiness than he did right now, right inside of you. And if god existed, he wouldn’t know whether to thank him for blessing him with the feeling of your cunt around him, the mewls of his name coming out of your sweet lips, or curse him, how is he supposed to live now having had a taste of pure ecstasy? How did he survive all these years with this feeling of fulfilment? “Good girl. You feel good, hmm pretty girl?” How can his voice be so delightful, and his thrusts so mean? The tip of his cock nudging at your cervix beautifully, making you see stars, bringing you closer and closer to your release. 

His fingers had a bruising grip on your hips, leaving his marks too, soft blues compared to the violent reds of Ghost’s hickeys on your neck, the contrast between the two men had you spiralling. So different, they balance each other perfectly. You needed that moment of love after all the things Simon made you go through. After all the degrading words, the aggressive touches and bites, the unfair love; Price felt like a warm blanket on a stormy snowy night.

John’s voice became raspy, a little louder too, he had to sink his teeth into your shoulder to keep quiet. Although you weren’t any better. With your head thrown back, a hand over your mouth to keep your moans and whimpers at bay, your other one too busy grabbing at his hair, pulling for some sort of steadiness. Your legs thrashed around him, squeezing his waist tight, not being able to close from overwhelming pleasure as you came. The squelching noise of your arousal echoed in the room, spurred him to quicken the shoving of his length into your sopping wet insides. Messy, everything is messy. From his erratic pace to the drenched counter beneath you, everything is just so messy. Your chest heaved, body squirming as you felt overwhelmed, overstimulated from his constant prodding at your spongy spot. One, two, three more seconds and your walls are convulsing for a second time, not even your palm could preclude your scream of his name, only getting higher when you felt some liquid warm coating you from within, only to begin to slip out, dripping. 

Cerulean blues sparkled under the harsh white light of the bathroom as he slowly pulled away, hushing your cries of protest at the emptiness as he did. “Feel better?” he asked warmly, with a kiss on your forehead, not caring about the perspiration that formed earlier. Even the dirtiest parts of you were like sugary candy for him. “He’ll come back… Don’t you worry about him. And if he doesn’t, you still have me, alright my sweetheart?” 

Just like Ghost -it’s funny how you keep comparing them- he was possessive of you. Although it felt different, like he cared, like he would keep his promise. And you couldn’t help but smile as you watched the captain pull your panties up, not before he left a whisper of a kiss on your fluttering clit. You couldn’t help but smile up at him as he fixed your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. “Go back outside sweetie. They must be looking for you… He’s waiting for you… I’ll clean that mess up.” 

Your heart was beating faster with each step you took, as if you were the one in the wrong. So fast you felt like it was about to burst out of your chest, and then, and then it stopped when whiskey browns eyed you up and down, briefly mentioning the seat beside him for you to take place. A shiver ran down your spine, palms sweating when you were told that your friend had to go home early, something told you that Simon had something to do with it. Something told you that Ghost has something planned, should you be excited, or scared for what’s to come?  

[ohlawdthebirds]

Ace In The Hole

Platonic!141 x Gn! and Asexual!Reader

Huge thank you to @groguspicklejar for letting me turn her drabble into a full fic. You can find the drabble here.

TW: Nothing huge, slight NSFW because sex is mentioned in this fic.

Synopsis: Price is fed up with how much Soap and Gaz sleep around. He's at his wits end until you come up with a solution.

And credit to @cafekitsune for these gorgeous dividers.

FREE PALESTINE FOREVER!!!!

Captain John Price was a lot of things: a respected member of the armed forces, a diligent leader, and an overall powerhouse of a man. He’d survived weeks of bootcamp, hailstorms of bullets, and targets on his life at every given turn. That all being said, he found himself wondering where he went wrong in life. When did he, captain of an elite task force, become mediator for his subordinates’ squabbles?

Soap and Gaz sat in front of him, petulant as toddlers, arguing over their latest paramour. The two of them shared a barracks room and were arguing over a “sleepover schedule” so that all of their “needs” were being met. From what Price had gathered, they currently had no set schedule, leaving them walking in on each other while with their barrack bunny of the week.

Not for the first time, John Price considered an early retirement.

“Ye cannae take the whole week, ye bampot!” Soap was indignant over Gaz’s proposed schedule, one that would give him Monday through Thursday, leaving Soap with Friday and Saturday. Sundays were off limits. Even God rested.

“Ah’m no lettin’ ye keep the lass to yerself. Isnae fair now innit?” He cried.

“Fair? You want the bird all to yourself, then? As I recall, you were balls deep in her most of last week. Nearly had to pry you out of her, you arse!” Gaz tossed back.

It was no secret that the two of them were sluts. Whores, even. John “Soap” MacTavish and Kyle “Gaz” Garrick had a penchant for sleeping around. They’d bedded no less than half their battalion, bedded a fair number of civilians during their leaves, and even bedded each other on a few occasions. Price would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. But with these conquests came the inevitable: arguing over shared partners and said partners sometimes fighting over who got to sleep with whom. It was ridiculous, really.

They continued on until Price decided he was actively losing brain cells. He slammed his hands on the desk and stood from his chair. Two of his best and brightest froze in their seats, eyes wide as they stared at him.

“Right then, is there any particular reason you lot felt the need to have this discussion in my office? Clearly you two don’t have enough to keep you busy. Seems I’ll have to change that.”

Soap and Gaz loudly protested, voices overlapping each other’s. Price was gearing up to distribute both a mountain of paperwork and multiple laps around the building when a knock came from his office door. He fixed Soap and Gaz with a piercing stare that silenced them, before calling out for whomever knocked to come in. You stepped in, brows furrowed over the yelling you heard earlier.

“Everything okay in here, sir?”

Price nodded gruffly. “These two were done anyways. Boys, you’re dismissed.”

Once Price declared something there was no pushing back on it. The man was immovable once he made up his mind.

The two sergeants decided it was best to cut their losses then and there and continue their argument back in the barracks. They greeted you on their way out, Gaz gently clapping you on the shoulder and Soap bumping fists with you. Price sat back behind his desk and retrieved a cigar from a drawer.

“I thought you were on leave today?” the captain said.

 “Still am,” you replied, “Just wanted to make sure nothing came up before I left out.”

Price shook his head. “You’re all good, kid. See you Monday.”

You grinned and nodded. You were about to move towards the door but paused, turning to face Price. “Captain, I know it’s none of my business, truly, but I overheard what Soap and Gaz were arguing about before I came in. I think I could potentially help you out here.”

Price’s brow furrowed. You continued, “You know how competitive those two get, right? Why not use that against them? Make a bet to see who can go the longest without sleeping with anyone.”

Price ran a hand over his moustache as he considered. It wasn’t a bad plan. It was certainly one that had potential.

“Could work, certainly. But you know they won’t just accept a bet without a good prize, right?”

A smirk crossed your lips. “Of course, Cap, that’s where this gets interesting.” You leaned forward, eyebrows raised. Price indulged you, leaning forward himself.

“I enter this little competition. A third person will ensure they won’t try cheating, since they’ll have to keep themselves accountable. The winner not only gets to decide on whatever weird schedule thing they’ve got going on, provided all partners consent of course, but they also get dibs on the good seat in the chopper on our next mission.”

Price sat back in his chair, mulling it over. “Knew there was a reason we recruited you. Ace, you might have just saved me a weekend’s worth of headaches. I’ll inform those two gits.”

You grinned. This would certainly be interesting, especially since no one knew you had quite the “ace” up your sleeve.

-

It wasn’t a secret that you were asexual, it just wasn’t something that came up often. You never officially came out to the 141, deeming it unnecessary. When asked whether you were dating, you’d brush off the questions by answering that you weren’t all that interested. When prompted further if anyone on base had caught your eye, you’d respond that you were too busy. These things were true in a sense; being a sniper for the 141 certainly kept you busy and even during your downtime you found yourself preoccupied with whatever hobby you’d decided to indulge in that week or hanging out with your teammates. You lived a full life and considered dating relatively low on your list of priorities. There was also something deeply hilarious about your callsign being “Ace”, though it was referencing just how skillful you were with a sniper rifle. Entering this contest wasn’t anything difficult for you. In fact, you thought it would be interesting to see how your teammates would rise to the challenge.

-

The first week after Price announced the challenge was probably the funniest week of your life. Soap and Gaz were indignant, which you expected, but they accepted the challenge, nonetheless. When Price revealed that you were also in the running, they made it a point to corner you at the shooting range. You were reloading your gun when they walked in. Soap was the first to approach you, striding forward with his arms crossed.

“So, Price told us yer the one who proposed this whole contest, aye? Fir wye?” he asked.

You placed the gun down and turned to fully face your teammates. “’Why?’” you repeated back, “Because the two of you were causing chaos on base and Price was ready to assign you cleaning duty for the rest of your careers. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Well, we’re letting you know that we’ve accepted the challenge. That heli seat is mine,” Gaz said. After his incident from last year, Gaz made it a point to sit as far away from the helicopter door as possible.

“That’s fine by me,” You turned and picked the gun back up, “Though, I’m sure this’ll be easy.”

Gaz cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what makes you say that?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just excited to see how this’ll go.” You cocked the gun and aimed it, firing off a round into the center of the target paper.

-

After finishing at the gun range, you headed towards the canteen to grab lunch. It wasn’t until you’d grabbed your food and began to look for your teammates that you heard laughter bubbling up around the canteen. You ignored it, moving towards the back table where Ghost currently occupied a seat. Ghost didn’t acknowledge you when you sat down, his eyes trained just past your shoulder. Your brows furrowed and you quickly followed his line of sight, turning back towards the door. The moment your eyes locked onto Soap and Gaz you nearly fell out of your chair in shock.

They were dressed as nuns, and from what you could tell, they were wearing legitimate nun habits instead of cheap costumes from Halloweens past. They strode forward, faces solemn and hands folded in prayer. Soap fiddled with a rosary his mother had given him on his first deployment. They approached your table, made the sign of the cross, and sat down. Ghost shot incredulous looks at the both of them.

“What’s all this, then? Halloween come early?” He asked.

“We’ve taken a vow of chastity, Lt. The ol’ Johnny and Kyle are no more. We’ve devoted ourselves to prayer and abstinence. We’re men o’ the cloth now,” Soap replied.

“Shoulda’ taken a vow of silence,” Ghost tossed out, digging his fork into whatever mystery meat the canteen had slapped on his tray.

You and Kyle didn’t bother holding back your chuckles.

“You do realize the nun habits are unnecessary, right? Price never said you had to wear them.” You said.

“Yes, but this shows that we’re serious about this challenge,” Kyle piped up.

You fixed him with a deadpan stare. “There’s absolutely nothing serious about your current get-up. But okay.”

The rest of lunch passed without much else happening, save for the occasional snort of laughter from other personnel.

-

The second week was just as nonsensical as the first. You knew the terrible two were up to no good when jangling and clanking noises came from them as they walked into Price’s office. The men sat, albeit quite stiffly, and tried their hardest to ignore Price’s hard glare.

“What’s all that ruckus?” Price growled out.

Soap had the nerve to look as though his captain were speaking in riddles. “Ah’ dunno what yer on about Cap, we’ve done nothin’ wrong. Right Gaz?”

Gaz at least had the decency to look embarrassed. You placed down the file you were examining. “What’s all that clanking you two have got going on?”

Soap wasted no time in standing up and yanking down his pants. You were met with the sight of a leather and metal thong with a padlock over the crotch. A chastity belt. The man was wearing an honest-to-God chastity belt.

The room was stunned into silence. Gaz hung his head in shame. It only took you a moment to realize he was wearing the same contraption. Ghost was the first to break the silence.

“Those come with keys?”

“Why Lt? You lookin’ to unlock me?” Soap smirked at Ghost, still a flirt despite the clear restrictions on him.

“I’m lookin’ to throw those keys out the window,” Ghost replied dryly. You caught Price trying to stifle his laughter behind his fist.

“Do those hurt?” you asked.

“Nah, but they do pinch a bit. Mostly awkward to walk around in,” Gaz said.

Price stood from his desk and passed over more files. “If you’re all well and done, Laswell’s got a few updates from last week. Give these a read.”

You had to admit, there was something comical about reading over confidential information while knowing two men in the room had actual chastity belts on. Price soon dismissed you all back to whatever tasks you had on base. You headed to the gym with Ghost right alongside you. Soap and Gaz clanked out the door and down the hall.

“How long d’you think they’ll keep this up?” You asked once you were in the gym, scooting yourself underneath the bench press. Ghost shrugged, adding more weights to the bar.

“Depends on how just how committed they are to this whole thing. Though I’m sure they’ll break soon,” he answered.

“What makes you say that?” Your hands reached up to the bar, readying yourself to lift the weights.

“Just a feeling. Adjust your grip, you’ll kill yourself otherwise.”

“No, seriously, what makes you say that?” You gripped the bar, raising up and lowering it to your chest before raising it back up again.

“On the field, those are some of the smartest men I know. On base? Barkin’ mad, the both of ‘em. Surprised they even lasted this long.”

You racked the weights above your head once your set was finished. “You’re probably right. But you have to admit, this has been a pretty entertaining two weeks.” You looked up at Ghost, who seemed to be deep in thought.

“Why’d you join this contest anyways?” He asked.

You sat up and turned to him. “Because I knew it’d be an easy win. I don’t exactly…ah, well, I figured it’d be fun to see how things played out.”

Ghost grunted in reply. “Fair enough. Now give me twenty more reps.”

You groaned as you made your way back under the bar.

-

As it turned out, Ghost was right. The third week was when things reached their breaking point. You were on the hunt for a missing knife, one you’d lent Gaz a few days back. Ghost’s words replayed in your mind; were the sergeants reaching their breaking point? Would they soon throw in the towel?

You approached Soap and Gaz’s barrack, fist raised to knock, when you heard a noise that froze your fist mid-air. There was the sound of rustling and grunting. You jumped back from the door.

There was no way…unless?

You stepped forward again, rapping your knuckles against the wood. All sounds behind the door stopped. You were about to knock again when the door swung open.

You came face to face with Gaz, his eyes blown wide and his chest heaving.

“Gaz? You alright? Why are you so flushed?”

Your eyes caught sight of a bruise on the column of his throat. In fact, there were multiple bruises. Before he could raise his shirt to cover them, you yanked down the collar.

“Hold it, what’s this? What’s this, Gazzy-boy?! You get attacked by over-enthusiastic mosquitoes?!”

Gaz swatted your hands away. “N-no, this is just-! I burned myself earlier!”

Ignoring his protests you shouldered past him into the room, where you were met with the sight of Soap trying to pull on clothes as fast as humanly possible. You paused in the middle of the room and inhaled deeply. The air stunk of sweat and lust. Soap, having wrangled himself into pants, tried to approach you.

“Listen Ace, this isnae wit ye think it is. We were just havin’ a chat, Gaz’n ah. ”

You turned to him with a grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “Oh really? Because I think you two were having more than just a chat. And I think I just won the bet. And this-” You whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of the two of them, clothes disheveled, and skin marked with hickeys, “Is enough to prove it!”

With that you turned on your heel and booked it out the door, flying down the corridor and across the building towards Price’s office. Gaz and Soap ran after you, yelling for you to stop. The door to Price’s office nearly flew off the hinges when you barged in, phone held out in front of you. Price leveled you with a glower.

“This better be good, sergeant, otherwise you’re runnin’ laps for the next hour.”

“Oh, this is better than good, Captain, this is great.” You upped your phone’s brightness and slapped it on his desk. Price leaned over, squinting at the screen. It took only a moment for him to register what he was staring at before his eyes widened. Soap and Gaz barreled into the room, out of breath and speaking over each other.

“Cap, isnae wot ye think-!”

“Ace is framing us! We weren’t-!”

Price's face darkened. He stood from his desk, your phone in his hand.

“You fools couldn’t last 3 weeks?”

The room went dead silent, and you swore the temperature dropped a little. For a moment you wondered if you made a fatal mistake.

Price stalked forward, nearly towering over the three of you.

“Ace, you’ve won the bet. But I’ve just realized that we only discussed the reward and not the punishment for this. Any ideas?” He turned to you and handed your phone over.

Gaz and Soap shot you pleading looks, silently begging for you to be merciful. And for a moment you wondered if you should make them suffer, make them writhe. But in a moment of mercy, you decided against it.

“You know, I’m impressed that these two were able to find those nun habits and chastity belts. And such high quality too! You think they can find maid costumes?”

Price’s face lit up with the sick delight. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll manage. And I’m sure they’ll wear ‘em for the next three weeks too.”

Soap and Gaz’s faces were masks of pure shock. It was at that moment that Ghost walked into the office, a cup of tea in one hand and a file in the other. He stared at the scene in front of him, turned, and walked back out.

-

You were wrong. The weeks during the bet weren’t the funniest of your life. It was truly the weeks after that took the cake.

As per your request, Gaz and Soap procured maid outfits, complete with fishnet stockings and kitten heels. They were met with raucous laughter everywhere they went. The only one with a modicum of shame was Gaz, and even then, you caught him strutting his stuff when he passed you in the halls. Soap was happy to be back to normal. He even claimed that the costume was a hit with his partners that liked role-playing.

You saddled up next to Ghost in the rec room one night, thanking him when he brought down your favorite tea from the shelf. The two of you prepared your drinks in companionable quiet. Ghost turned to you, spoon halting in his cup.

“I would say congrats on winnin’ that bet, but I figured you would.”

You huffed out a gentle laugh. “Thanks, Lt.”

Ghost paused for a moment, seeming almost sheepish.

“You, uh…you never finished what you were saying, back when we were in the gym. Said you ‘didn’t exactly' and then you trailed off.”

“Oh, I can’t believe you remembered that. Yeah, I just…um…basically I don’t experience dating and relationships the same way everyone else does.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

You stopped stirring your tea. A part of you wondered if Ghost would understand, if he’d be supportive. You knew the man well enough that he wouldn’t ridicule you, but not everyone was understanding. It often felt like being asexual was a fringe thing. You sucked in a deep breath. Regardless of anyone’s feelings, you were asexual. It was real and anyone who said otherwise could get a mouthful of your boots.

“I’m asexual. Don’t really experience sexual attraction, y’know? Like, when you see someone others deem “hot” or “attractive” or whatever and want to have sex with them? I don’t understand that, and that desire doesn’t really happen to me. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a libido, its just never directed towards any one particular person. It’s a whole spectrum.”

You ended your ramble with a sip of tea.

“Oh, so that’s what it’s called? Didn’t realize there was a name for it,” Ghost muttered. You stiffened, cup halted in midair.

“When’d you figure that out?” Ghost asked.

“Kinda knew I was different when I began faking crushes on people back in school. And anytime those “crushes” reciprocated, I was weirded out by it. I did have real crushes, but those came a bit later. I’ve dated before, and thankfully my partners were understanding. I even had sex once! Just to try it out. It was…y’know, it was fine but I’m still definitely asexual.” You trailed off with a nervous laugh. “Sorry for the ramble, but whenever people ask, I try to explain everything, so I don’t have to keep answering questions.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” Ghost said. He cleared his throat. He seemed stuck between wanting to ask more and wondering if he was asking too much. In the end, you looked over and said: “I have a few books on it if you ever want to read up more on the subject. They helped me out a lot.”

Ghost said nothing, only nodding. He gently clinked your cup with his before he turned and headed towards the door. He stopped at the door frame and looked back over his shoulder.

“Hey Ace?”

You sipped more of your tea.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You smiled.

“Anytime, Ghost.”