I Normally Don't Entirely Enjoy Omegaverse Stuff But This...you May Have Just Converted Me. WHEW I AM

i normally don't entirely enjoy omegaverse stuff but this...you may have just converted me. WHEW I AM SWEATING🥵

semi-human nature {alpha!aemond targaryen x omega!reader x alpha!daemon targaryen}

{summary} a visit to king's landing goes awry when you go into your first heat— unaware not only that you are an omega, but also that your uncle and stepfather are alphas.

{word count} 6.7k

{warnings} smut (a/b/o standards like heat, breeding, knotting, all that good stuff; kinda dubcon because the reader doesn't totally understand what's happening at first), incest and stepcest (the reader is rhaenyra's daughter making her daemon's stepdaughter and aemond's niece), virginity loss, kinda painful sex/pain kink near the end, threesome, oral m receiving, spitroast, discussions of pregnancy, infidelity (daemon is married to rhaenyra), basically no plot just filthiness

Your visits to King's Landing were far too rare for your tastes.  You didn't mind that Dragonstone was your home, it was beautiful there and you and your brothers found plenty to do and see— but you missed the old castle at times, missed the adventure and mystery there.  Most of all, you missed your extended family.  Though, really, you only missed some very specific members of it.

Firstly, you missed your Aunt Helaena, because she'd always been kind to you and taught you some things when you were a girl— like how to braid hair and how to play her flute (but you were never very good at either).  Secondly, and much more, you missed your Uncle Aemond.  As cunning and cold as he could be to others, he tended to be sweet with you, as long as you could remember.  The older you both got, the more you started to feel more than a friendly, or familial, connection with him— your girlish daydreams sometimes drifted to what it would be like if you married him someday, but you figured that would never happen with the growing animosity between your family and his.  Still, when he smiled at you, or when he kissed your head the tender way he did, you couldn't help but hope he felt as you did.

But you loved your family here, of course— your mother was sweet to you, as her only daughter, and your stepfather Daemon loved you as his own.  (Some cast a suspicious eye at the two of you, thinking maybe he loved you more than his own… but he was just affectionate, that’s all.)

In fact, he was being characteristically tender with you as you approached King’s Landing, rubbing your arm reassuringly until you smiled up at him.  “I’m sure you’re the happiest of any of us to be here,” he told you with a smirk.

“You aren’t happy to see your brother?” you pressed, but he never answered.  Your conversation was interrupted by the end of the journey being reached; they were waiting in the courtyard for you, and even though there was a tension in the air between everyone, you couldn’t help but smile shyly at Aemond.  He looked back at you, the smallest curl growing on his lips, and your heart fluttered.

For now, you had to behave calmly and politely.  But as soon as dinner preparations had begun and everyone had separated to manage individual matters, you ran through the castle to find Aemond in his chambers— and flung yourself into his arms with a squeal of delight.

He hugged you in return, though he tried to soothe you as he laughed softly at your excitement.  “It hasn’t been so long, has it, niece?” he asked with a smirk— so smug about the way you clearly had missed him.

“You missed me too, didn’t you?” you sighed, pulling back to look up at his face; he wore the softest smile for you— his one eye sparkled brighter than the sapphire when he looked at you, you swore it, and you were glad you caught him without his patch to hide behind.

“Of course, sweet girl,” he promised.  “My— you’ve grown, haven’t you?  Weren’t you a little girl last you visited?  And now I’ve got a woman in my arms.”

You flushed with warmth in your face and chest when he spoke like that— you felt most like a woman in his arms, anyway, even though your stepfather had commented more than once as well on your development as of late.  “You act like I’m so much younger than you, Aemond,” you mumbled shyly.  Somehow, you felt most like a woman when he held you; and, even more strangely, most like that little girl he remembered when he looked at you like that.

The embrace was cut short when you felt that dizzy feeling again, your eyes blinking quickly and the heat of your flush growing almost unbearable for a moment.  “Are you alright?” he asked, seeing your dazed reaction. 

“Y-yes, I’m— this happens,” you mumbled, trying to find your balance again as he stepped forward to keep you from falling.  “Fainting spells— w-well, except I don’t faint… I just feel strange.”

He narrowed his eye, looking you up and down.  “Strange?”

“Hot,” you whispered, throat a little dry— suddenly you could smell him, and he smelled perfect: it reminded you of snow-covered pine, icy and sturdy just like him.  Why couldn’t you smell that before?

He pressed his hand to your forehead, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering.  The heat just seemed to spread all over you, and your head spun as your knees went a little weak.  “How long has this been going on?  Do your parents know?” he asked quickly.

You struggled to keep your thoughts in order enough to answer, a cramp hitting your gut all of a sudden— that had happened before, too, but the episodes never lasted this long before… which was why you hadn’t told your parents, it didn’t seem notable at the time.  Now, of course, as pain twisted inside you, you regretted that.  “J-just… just a few…” you tried to respond, but then you couldn’t even remember how many days it had been.  All you could remember was this moment, and you reached up to clutch at his shoulders.  You swore you heard him growl as he pulled you into him, and the noise made a shiver run through your body.

“I think you may be— fuck,” he interrupted himself, and you felt his nose brush against the side of your face as he breathed in deeply beside your neck.  You were so soothed by his touch that you didn’t even really consider how bizarre it was that he buried his face there, smelling and tasting your skin.  “You’re presenting— poor thing, it hurts, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t know what that meant, but yes, it hurt; you whined as you nodded, making weak fists that tugged on his leather tunic.  

“I can help you,” he promised, “I can take that pain away.”

“Uncle,” you whimpered, “please— help me, please, I don’t understand what’s hap—”

“Shh, sweet girl,” he cooed softly, “you’ll be alright— it’s all well, I’m here now… I’ll help you, omega.”

Your eyebrows knitted— you weren’t sure you heard him right… omega?  Maybe it was a Valyrian word you hadn’t heard before?  You’d always daydreamed during your lessons as a child, and you certainly were less fluent than your uncle Aemond.

“All you have to do is as you’re told,” he instructed.  “Do what I say and I’ll take care of you.”

“Please,” you whined again, another cramp in your core hitting— and with it, a heat between your legs that you realised with distant shame was wetness flooding you.  He took a deep breath in and groaned, suddenly pulling you with him across the room.  You didn’t realise he was taking you to the bed until you felt it under your back.

“I can help you,” he said again, kissing all over your flushed face as you clutched at him desperately.  His hands started to slide up under your dress and pet your legs which spread wide for him instinctively, your hips shaking as more slick leaked from your opening.  “Your Alpha’s here, my darling…”

Before you could even consider asking what any of this meant— you were so needy, you might just let it all happen regardless— Daemon burst in the room.

“Fuck,” he blurted out when he saw you writhing on the bed while Aemond touched you.  “Is she really—?  I can smell her from across the courtyard, fuck, so sweet…”  

“Leave us, Uncle,” Aemond ordered instantly, “she’s mine.”

“She’s my daughter, I should be the one to help her,” Daemon sneered.  He crossed the room and approached the bed as Aemond held you tighter, defensively.

“She’s not your daughter,” Aemond scoffed, “she’s your wife’s bastard— and she’ll be my omega.”

Daemon shoved his nephew off of you with a growl, making you whimper.  “Please— please…” was all you could say.  You weren’t even sure what that sentence would be if you had the ability to finish: please don’t fight, perhaps, or please touch me.

“I should claim her,” Daemon insisted, descending on you next with a sweet purr.  “Don’t you want Papa to help you now?”

You whined in confusion, one hand shakily reaching up to hold onto your stepfather’s shoulder— but the other found Aemond’s hand and squeezed it tightly.  “Let her decide,” Aemond decided, knowing you were so affectionate for him— Daemon might agree to that measure, thinking you would choose your stepfather first, if he thought you understood what was being asked of you.

“She can’t decide now,” Daemon hissed, “she’s presenting, she’s delirious— and she doesn’t even know what she is!”

“She doesn’t—?!” Aemond repeated, eyes wide as he looked back and forth between you two.  “You never taught her?  You never told her—!”

“We didn’t know!” Daemon defended.  “We thought— everyone thought Rhaenyra would be an omega, as pure as she is, but she never presented… we just assumed—”

“How deprived you were, niece,” Aemond cooed at you, stroking your arm.  “Your mother never taught you about us— about how special our family really is, that you might be—”

“What am I?” you whimpered, shaking, looking up at your uncle with teary eyes.  He held your face and pet your cheek gently, but there was a rageful hunger in his eye like you’d never seen.

“You’re mine,” he answered.

“Ours,” Daemon corrected.  “She’ll belong to both of us.”

Even though you still barely had any idea what was going on, you knew how dangerous of a proposition that was.  Neither your uncle nor stepfather were ones for sharing…

Though he snarled in chagrin, Aemond was nodding as he pulled you into him again.  “We’ll both help you, all right?” he prompted you quietly.  “Your stepfather and I— we can both help you.  You just have to do as you’re told…”

“Please,” you repeated weakly; you were carried to the bed and all but thrown onto it, a moment later feeling Daemon’s hands help undress you right away.

“I want her first,” Aemond informed Daemon firmly.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this, boy?” Daemon snapped, making his nephew laugh coldly.

“What a naughty Papa you are,” he smirked.  “Will your wife approve of you fucking her daughter?”

“Wh-what?!” you choked.  “What… what will you do to me?”

Daemon growled in the back of his throat as your dress was torn away, and you felt two pairs of hands run all over your bare skin as Aemond pulled you to lay on him.  “As your uncle told you,” Daemon answered, “we’ll help you.”

Did they have to be so fucking cryptic all the time?!

“I’m having her first,” Aemond insisted again, “I found her first.  You’ll have your turn.”

He helped you to straddle his lap, reaching down to quickly free himself from his trousers with a sigh; your legs were shaking already, and you jolted when you felt him press his cock up to your opening.  “U-Uncle,” you whimpered, “are you— will we really—?”

“Haven’t you wanted this, sweet girl?” Aemond whispered in your ear.  “Don’t you want me to fill you?”

Though you whined before you let yourself admit it, you nodded.  “Yes,” you choked, “yes— I wanted this.”

Aemond gave his uncle a little smirk, admiring the look on Daemon’s face— some impossible, forbidden mix of a jealous lover and a disapproving father.  Apparently, he thought his stepdaughter was more loyal, and wouldn’t fall for her uncle sat so firmly on the other side of political lines.  But love is funny like that— especially where Targaryens are involved.

“Call me your Alpha,” Aemond instructed in a low groan by your ear, struggling to resist his instinct to simply take you without any more delay— he’d been fighting his desire the second he first smelled you, not wanting to rush it too much, but both men were overcome with the need to be inside you as you shuddered and whimpered.  

“Alpha,” you whispered back, feeling a pull to obey much more than usual when he spoke to you this way.  “My Alpha…”

He pulled your hips down, sliding his cock inside you all at once.  His head fell back as your hips rested on his; you cried loudly, feeling a sharp stretch— but more than pain, much more, there was pleasure, relief, and satisfaction.  You went totally limp in his arms and let him guide you to grind your hips just as he liked; “Fuck,” he panted, “you’re even more perfect than I ever— ah— ever imagined, dear niece— sweet omega…”

“Uncle,” you sobbed, clinging onto him tightly.  He was right— the pain had gone, for the most part, now all you had was this need for more… for everything.  Even though you were so weak and helpless, you found yourself able to move on top of him, bouncing up and down in his lap to find some more of that impossibly-perfect friction; he watched you with pride and lust in his smile.  “Aemond, it feels— oh…”

“It feels right,” he finished for you, “doesn’t it?”

You nodded in agreement, shivering when you realised the fingers ghosting up and down your spine were your stepfather’s.  “How does she feel?” he asked in a rough voice that would’ve been terrifying if you didn’t trust him completely.

“Hot,” Aemond answered quickly.  “So hot inside— she really is a dragon.”

They both laughed a little, though it wasn’t because it was funny— it was a specific emotion you’d never seen on either of them until now.  Daemon leaned in and kissed the back of your neck, making you gasp and whine and lean back into his arms as you kept riding Aemond dutifully; Aemond hissed slightly, digging his fingers into your hips. 

“She… she tensed up on me when you kissed her there,” Aemond said with a gasp.  “Fuck— I didn’t know she could get any tighter…”

“Beautiful,” Daemon praised you in a mumble against your skin, fingers now exploring more as he lightly tickled your sides and teased your breasts.  “Are you being good for him, omega?  Taking care of your uncle as you should?”

You gasped and nodded, eyes heavy and wet.  “Yes— yes, Papa…”

He hummed deeply, properly groping your chest now as he licked your neck, even nipping at it with his teeth to make you tighten inside again and again.  “F-fuck,” Aemond choked, “I won’t— I can’t take much more of that, she’s so— she’s perfect, you can’t imagine how perfect—”

“I don’t have to,” Daemon growled, pulling you off of Aemond who whimpered and begged to have you back— but the older man was well past the limit of his patience, snarling as he positioned you onto your hands and knees.  He held your shoulder to keep you steady, hard cock flexing at the way you hung your head in submission and turned just enough to look back at him innocently over your shoulder.  He smiled as you as he gripped himself inside his trousers, silently praying for the patience not to tear you open as soon as he could.  Yes, you were his omega, and his stepdaughter— his property in more ways than one— but he would prefer not to hurt you, and his instincts were fighting against his logical mind in that regard.

When he exposed himself, he saw you trying to look— trying to see if your Papa’s cock would break you, and he just chuckled slightly to himself.

“You’ll be able to take it,” he promised roughly, “you’re made to take it.”

He lined himself up, knocking your knees further apart with his own before plunging inside with a long sigh.  You cried again but pushed back against him, too; your hands still clung weakly onto your uncle, who soothed you and kissed your tears away encouragingly.

“You were right,” Daemon sighed, electing to just hold you still and stay buried as deep as he could go for a moment.  “She’s— fuck.”

Aemond took one of your hands from his shoulder and guided it down to his cock, still soaked from your slick; he guided you to stroke it with your shaking fingers, whispering filthy praises in your ear while Daemon fucked you slowly (at first).  “You have to take care of both of us,” your uncle reminded you.  “Gods, you smell so sweet… I could smell you from across the hall, that’s how I found you— I knew you needed me, needed an Alpha to breed you.”

“I… I don’t understand…” you mumbled, gasping as your stepfather picked up his pace and fucked you more roughly.

“We should tell her now,” Daemon decided.  “Well, you should— I’m quite busy already— fuck, so tight…”

“Would you like me to tell you everything, sweet girl?” Aemond asked you, tightening your grip on his cock when you nodded.  “Just keep— keep stroking me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “anything…”

“Our family is very special,” Aemond explained to you— which you already knew, but clearly there was more to it than you were taught.  “There’s a reason we keep to our own, protect our bloodline: some of us are… gifted.  Like your stepfather and I.”

“Like you,” Daemon added, though he was struggling to focus on any conversation as he used you.

“I always knew you were meant for more, my lovely niece,” Aemond cooed, though his nostrils flared for a moment as he moved your hand to wank him faster.  “And you are— meant to give us a new branch of the family, purer than any that came before…”

Even with your mind still clouded with desperation, you knew how you were expected to do that.  “You’ll— you’ll get me pregnant?” you realised with a shaky gasp.

Aemond nodded, smiling as he kissed your face.  “Don’t worry— it won’t be as difficult for you as it was for your mother.  She’s not like us, she’s… weaker.”

“They all are,” Daemon added, in defence of his wife.  “It’s been generations since an omega was born to us.. even in as pure a family as ours, it’s rare— only your uncle and I are Alphas.”

“It makes you much more fertile,” Aemond continued, “it makes us need to care for you— with our bloodline, there’s a small chance any of us could be like this… but our children, with both their parents being this way, they’ll all be gifted in the same way.  Think of the generations we’ll sire, and it all starts tonight…”

Clearly, he was excited by the prospect of keeping you bred for years to come, creating a new line of Targaryens guaranteed with these ‘gifts’ of fertility and instinct… well, you weren’t quite as keen.  Even as your body longed for the promise of being impregnated, your mind filled with fear.  “I— what if I can’t—?” you started to wonder.

“You will,” Aemond promised, without even knowing what concerned you— because he didn’t have to.  “You can do anything, omega, you’ll do anything for your Alphas.  It’s your nature; you obey.”

Just as he said it, Daemon thrust especially roughly into you and made you quiver.  A pleasure began to build in your gut, heavy and hot, while your stepfather let go of all pretence and fucked you with all the passion and possessiveness he’d been holding back for years.  He bent down over you and gave open-mouthed kisses to your back, making you feel small in his grasp and feeling the heat of every moan and sigh spread over your skin.  “So perfect,” he said again, “it’s better than anything— you really were made for pleasure, weren’t you, omega?”

“Haven’t you had enough?” Aemond sneered at his uncle.  “I think it’s time for my turn again.”

“You can have your turn after I’ve knotted her,” Daemon decided.

Aemond grabbed you angrily, pulling you forward and slipping Daemon’s cock out of you— both of you reacting in disappointment.  “Your knot?  Please,” Aemond scoffed, “that could take hours— I need her now.”

“So do I,” Daemon insisted, but Aemond was determined to get inside you again.  Breathing through his teeth, he pushed his cock back into you roughly, guiding your hips to make sure he filled you to the very brim.  Shivering, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him fuck into you, accepting that it was better to let them do whatever they liked with you and just hope you didn’t get ripped to shreds in their fight over you.

“So beautiful,” Aemond sighed just before he kissed you on the lips— you let your mouth go slack right away, offering it for him to claim as well; his kiss was filthy and hungry and desperate, making you moan and whimper his name helplessly as he fucked you harder and harder.

“Don’t make me watch this,” Daemon pleaded with a whine, easily the most pathetic you’d ever heard him sound.  “I need— fuck, she smells so good…”

“You can fuck her again,” Aemond promised, only breaking away from the kiss long enough to speak, “when I’m done.”

“When you’re done?” Daemon realised.  “You’re going to knot her, aren’t you?  Fucking bastard.”

Of course, the only thing that could make Aemond stop kissing you was a chance to argue with your stepfather.  “I wouldn’t speak of bastards if I were you, Uncle,” Aemond taunted.  “Let her use her hand on you while you wait.”

“Hand?  I have much greater ideas than that,” Daemon informed you both proudly.  He moved around from his place behind you, kneeling beside where Aemond laid on the ground so he could pull you away from the kiss and push his cock up to your face.  “Use your mouth, omega— stick your tongue out for me.”

Doing as you were told, you whimpered slightly as he slid the fat head of his cock over your waiting tongue.

“Good,” he praised, staring down at you and petting your hair soothingly.  “You do so well for us both, darling— now close your lips on it.  Suckle on it, not too hard— fuck, fuck, how perfect you are…”

“I don’t especially care for your bollocks in my face, Uncle,” Aemond frowned.

“Lean away,” Daemon offered, not exactly sympathetic to the issue when he was so focused on the warmth of your mouth on his cock.

“I can’t!  Your knee is on my hair!” Aemond snapped, and Daemon finally moved enough for Aemond to yank his head away with a grimace.  

“You see why I keep mine shorter now,” Daemon chuckled.  

“I doubt that’s exactly why,” Aemond rolled his eyes, but knowing how perverse his uncle could be, he almost worried that he actually had found himself on the other end of the same issue before.

“My apologies,” Daemon offered in a mumble, but Aemond clearly wasn’t going to hold a grudge— he was moaning again already, holding your hips so he could buck up into you, kissing all along your opposite shoulder while your stepfather pushed his cock deeper into your mouth.

In fact, he kept sliding his thick shaft between your swollen lips until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat, making you gag.  You wanted to apologise, but you didn’t for two reasons: one, your mouth was full; two, Daemon only moaned louder, praising you again.  In fact, he kept making you gag over and over until a tear ran down your cheek.  “Let her breathe,” Aemond ordered, sounding almost hurt with how worried he was for you.

Daemon pulled out of your mouth to let you gasp and sputter, Aemond holding your face and kissing it repeatedly to try to soothe you.  “I-I’m alright,” you promised, “let me try again, please, Papa—”

Daemon grinned darkly as he pushed his cock back up to your lips.  “You’re too sweet, omega— you want so much to please your Alphas, I know.”

“Don’t go so hard on her,” Aemond warned, “you know if you hurt her at all, it will be hard not to kill you.”

Daemon was more amused than concerned by the threat, but he knew his nephew was right— not just about the way Alphas would defend their mates instinctively (Daemon understood that instinct firsthand, it was how poor Laenor met his end), but about the fact that he should be gentler with you.  You weren’t one of his whores, you were his sweet daughter and a new omega— you needed to be treated with care.  But it was almost impossible to keep calm in a time like this.  “You should know how difficult it is to hold myself back,” Daemon sighed, “having to smell her and see her and listen to her— her mouth isn’t enough, I need her cunt.”

"Well, so do I," Aemond countered.

Unfortunately for Aemond, Daemon was stronger— and terribly impatient.  He growled and yanked you off of Aemond, throwing you onto your back and roughly filling you again.  You gasped, overwhelmed by being thrown back and forth between them, with never enough time for your body to get properly used to one or the other.  It certainly felt different looking up at your stepfather as he fucked you, seeing him groan and bare his neck as he moved his hips quickly.  "Papa," you gasped, properly accepting for the first time that it was your stepfather— your mother's husband, your great uncle— fucking you now.  He smiled down at you, holding himself up by one hand as he touched your face with the other.

"Darling," he whispered, "you knew, didn't you?  That I wanted you in this way?"

Honestly, you weren't sure— it all felt like a lifetime ago now; presenting as an omega was disrupting enough to your worldview, being claimed by your uncle and stepfather made it even more sure that this felt like the beginning of something entirely new.

"Daemon, everyone knew," Aemond assured.  "You were never subtle."

You wanted to ask if your mother knew— but the pleasure kept you from speaking anything coherent, and the instincts controlling your body kept you from feeling any guilt.  Like Aemond said, it just felt so right, so natural that you knew nothing about this could be wrong.

Aemond pulled you into another kiss, laying beside you and touching you anywhere he could reach— starting first with your breasts, which he broke away from your lips to latch onto next.  You moaned loudly, feeling terrible sensitive with Aemond's tongue and lips teasing your hardened nipples.  "How full these will be…" Aemond whispered reverently against your skin.  "All your milk for our babies… you're incredible— our little omega, you'll carry so many beautiful Targaryens in you…"

You whimpered, reaching down to find Aemond's throbbing cock— he hissed as you gripped it, trying to stroke him the same way he'd guided you before.  "I— I want to please you, Alpha…"

He groaned and smiled, coming back up to your lips again but holding your face so he could look at you closely.  "I know, sweet girl— it's in your nature.  You live to serve, don't you, omega?"

Whining slightly, you nodded, and he captured your mouth in another kiss.

The thrusts into you grew faster and more erratic, rocking your body as you gasped.  Aemond's hand slipped down over your mound, finding your swollen bud and rubbing it as Daemon fucked you with ruthless intensity.  It was too much: it made your back arch and your throat catch.

"Come, omega," Daemon ordered; helpless to his commands, you sucked in a gasp against Aemond's lips and felt another wave of hot slick leak from between your quivering legs.  Both men groaned, and you swore you saw Aemond's eye go black as he took a deep inhale of your heady scent in the air.

"So obedient," Aemond observed, "I hadn't even known that omegas could come on command… what a talent."

There was this embarrassing squelching noise coming from where your stepfather drove his cock into you, your arousal coating his and your thighs as he held the back of your knees.

“Fuck!” Daemon grunted suddenly, and you struggled and whimpered as you felt his cock seem to swell— more and more, well past what you thought was possible, until you cried out from the fullness.  

“Alpha!” you sobbed, hearing him snarl as he held your hips to keep you from trying to get away.  

“Are you—?” Aemond realised, growling with jealousy.  “Fuck, you’re breeding your own stepdaughter, you’re unforgivable…”

“It’s— fuck, just wait, nephew,” Daemon promised, still panting as more of his sticky come flooded inside you.

“I can’t wait,” Aemond whimpered, “I need to breed her, you know I need to—”

“It’ll be worth the wait,” Daemon assured, “it’s unlike anything— gods, she’s—”

He never finished any of those sentences, just moaning and continuing to pump his seed into you as he breathed heavily.  “What’s happening?” you asked Aemond with a shaky whimper.

“Your Papa is filling you, omega,” he answered, petting your side as you shivered.  “One of the ways we’re different— Alphas, we… we have something called a knot.  It keeps us inside so you’ll never waste a drop of seed— but only omegas can fit something so large, we have to… make concessions, with other lovers.”

“We can never be… fully inside, when we finish,” Daemon panted, “or we’ll hurt them— could kill them, really.  But you, you… you take it so well, omega, you take it perfectly… fuck!”

“I-it hurts, a little,” you admitted, trying not to move so you wouldn’t disturb the soreness inside you.  “It’s— how is it so big?”

Daemon smirked proudly, holding onto you just as tightly though he’d finished spilling his seed already.  He tilted his head back slightly first as he took deep and fast breaths, only to drop it forward limply as silver strands hung limply around his face.

"Fuck," Daemon sighed again, "I never could've imagined how it would feel… being so deep within you, that sweet cunt keeping my knot warm inside— darling, it's incredible."

He stroked your face approvingly as you sighed.

"You expect me to wait until it's gone down for my turn to feel that?" Aemond sneered.

"You don't have a choice," Daemon laughed, "you'll hurt her if you try to get her off now.  You'll just have to find some patience."

The only instinct stronger than the need to breed was to protect you, and so Aemond snarled as he guided your hand to his aching cock once more as he waited his turn.  You felt complete relief, for the first time since the headache began, as you felt Daemon's knot inside you.  You didn't feel the same as you had before, though: you felt… better?  In a sense.  You felt complete.  You felt accomplished, useful… needed.

Aemond groaned against your skin as he fucked your fist, kissing along your shoulder and collarbone.  "Such a good omega— you'll take me next, won't you?  You can satisfy us both, yes?"

"Yes, Alpha— anything, I'll do whatever I can," you promised, addicted already to how rewarding it felt to be good for them.  They both smiled proudly.

"You used to be so stubborn," Daemon remembered.  "So much changes when you present, doesn't it?  Believe it or not, I was rather level-headed before I presented as an Alpha."

"I'll go with 'not'," Aemond decided.

Daemon didn’t notice or mind much what Aemond had said, too focused on looking down at where your leaking cunt managed to fit his knot— he was still amazed by it.  He’d spent his whole life pulling out enough to keep the knot outside when he came (that is, when he could manage to finish at all), even though at times it took all his willpower to fight that instinct.  It felt perfect to be inside you now— perfect in a way he’d never allowed himself to imagine before.

Aemond’s patience was well past worn; he forced your hand to wrap tightly around his aching cock, fucking your hand as he kissed you hard and whined against your lips.  “Omega,” he panted, “even your hand is so divine— but I need to be inside you, I need to breed and fill you, please—”

“Not much longer,” Daemon promised, though he was clearly irritated.  “It takes time, nephew.”

You could tell Aemond wanted to say something particularly catty in that moment— probably something about how it was impressive that Daemon could keep his knot at all at his age— but only a groan fell from his mouth as you squeezed his cock a little tighter.  He guided your hand lower to rub gently over his balls, and you realised how desperate he really was when you felt how swollen they’d become, how tender they were as you barely touched them and he hissed in a breath.  “Fuck,” he panted, “all that come will be inside you soon— I know how badly you need it, omega, to be bred by your uncle.”

You whimpered but nodded in agreement, letting him move your hand just how he liked so you could keep his hunger at bay.

As for you, the knot inside you brought you mostly back to reality— but a needy, desperate Alpha beside you kept your omega instincts in control even as some logical thought returned to your mind.  That logic made you want to ask them a thousand questions, about what you were and what this all meant and what this would mean for your family… but you couldn’t, because Aemond never stopped kissing you long enough to let you speak.  Not that you were exactly fighting to get a word in: you loved the way he kissed you, so you just melted into it and let him go on tasting your mouth while he stroked himself with your hand.

You couldn’t say how long it was before Daemon broke his silence, but however long it was, it went by quickly— for you.  For Aemond, it was like a lifetime.  “It’s small enough now,” Daemon decided.  “You can finally have your turn, nephew— but I know you’ll miss me, little omega, when this pathetic boy is on top of you.”

“Gods, just hurry up,” Aemond choked, and Daemon sighed as he held your hips and unsheathed himself from you.  The knot wasn't completely subsided, but it had shrunk significantly— enough for him to hiss as he carefully slid it out.  You whimpered as the bulge of it tugged on your sore walls, and made a stinging pain hit your opening as it passed through.  But, finally, you were empty… for a split second.  Aemond wasted no time getting on top of you and guiding his leaking cock to your hole; he plunged in all at once, making you wince and yelp as you held onto his shoulders, but he ignored the pain he was inflicting and started to move already— he just couldn’t stop himself.

The sting was worth it, though, to hear his loud, satisfied moans; his voice was rougher and deeper than you’d ever heard it, filled with awe as he watched your body take him fully with every thrust.  He wasn’t moving very quickly yet— faster than you were ready for, yes, but still savouring the feeling of you for himself.

“I hope she’s not too stretched out from my knot,” Daemon chuckled, obviously not genuine— he hoped his nephew could feel the difference, so he was silently disappointed when Aemond shook his head.

“She feels just as before,” Aemond breathed, “just as tight and warm— just as perfect, fuck, she really was made for this.  I would never have taken another woman if I knew this was waiting for me— if I knew I could have an omega to breed someday.”

“I was under the impression you hadn’t taken other women,” Daemon laughed, “you certainly fuck like a virgin.”

“You ramble like a drunk,” Aemond sneered in reply, losing any interest in verbally sparring with his uncle as he started to move just a bit faster inside you.  "Beautiful," he sighed as he leaned down, holding you close, kissing your tears away as he fucked your sore cunt as gently as he could manage.  "So beautiful, my omega— you take me so well, even when it hurts you… you take your Alpha so well."

His praise made it all worth it, and soon enough the soreness was forgotten— as was his attempting to be careful with you; within a few minutes he was holding you tight and fucking into you ruthlessly, panting beside your face while he slammed his cock into the very end of your insides.  Even still, even after hours of your Alphas taking turns with you, your body never stopped leaking slick for them, until Aemond was soaked in your heat— his cock, balls, thighs, even dripping down to the bed beneath you…

“It won’t be much longer now,” he warned.  “You’ll be bred— my child in you, sweet girl, is that what you want?  All that ache’s going to go away, once you’re good and pregnant, like you were meant to be.”

It sounded like everything you’d ever wanted; it called to your most primal desires and made pleasure course through your veins until your skin was alight with ecstasy.  "Please, Alpha!" you sobbed, holding onto him tightly.  "I want your knot!  I want your baby…"

"Fuck," Aemond gasped, baring his neck to you as he thrusted faster, faster, faster— you were afraid you would go numb inside from the friction, heat building until it all collapsed; you twitched and jolted from the orgasm overtaking you, just as Aemond’s knot began to swell.  You felt it, like you had with Daemon: the warm come flooding inside your spent cunt, and your eyes rolled back as you went limp.  It hurt to take another knot, yes, but you were too exhausted to even react.  You were too exhausted to even think, even though you had much to think about: like the fact that your uncle and stepfather had just claimed and taken you, bred you, both of them fully intending to have you with child soon.  They’d have no way to tell whose child it was, would that even matter?  Would your mother stay married to Daemon— would either of them, or both, take you as their wife?  What would you say when, inevitably, questions arose?

None of those questions seemed to matter now… all you could think of was the man above you and inside you, the perfect expression of relief on his face as his knot kept growing inside you.

"O-oh," he choked, tightening his fist beside your head, "it feels so…"

"I know," Daemon smirked proudly.  "It's unlike anything else, isn't it?"

Aemond nodded weakly, still trying to catch his breath.  "Omega… our perfect omega…"

Daemon leaned down to join in on the praise, petting your head as you let your heavy eyes fall shut.  "You did so well for us both," he whispered to you.  "You may rest now— you did beautifully, now rest…"

You weren’t able to drift to sleep until they were both holding you; Aemond still inside and surrounding you while Daemon gently lifted you to cradle you from behind, with his chest to your back.  You should’ve felt confused, maybe guilty, maybe even disgusted as you reckoned with what you had done— what had been done to you.  Instead, you only felt at peace, safe and satisfied.  You were blessed with a gentle and dreamless sleep as your Alphas held you, still whispering to you sometimes— still discussing softly with each other what they would do next.  From now on, you could leave the thinking and worrying to them, and just fulfil your natural purpose.  It sounded nice, actually: lots of pure Targaryen babies, yours and Aemond’s and Daemon’s children, a strange but beautiful family.

For something you couldn’t have even imagined this morning, it seemed so obvious to you now… obvious, and sort of inevitable.  Not that you minded; you were happy to be theirs.

𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - Ettore

ah...um...i have no excuse for this one, just my mental illness. seriously wanted to name this Dark Matter but I already have a fic named that😭 Happy Valentine's Day💕. Please, please mind the warnings.

Summary: Being forced into deep space as part of some twisted experiment, tensions rise with a fellow inmate.

Warnings: DARK (no really, dead dove: do not eat), minor spoilers for High Life, serial killer!reader (also a bit of a psychopath), nihilism, brief mentions of witnessing CSA, graphic descriptions of murder, mentions of The Box™, Ettore being a creep obvi, mild vore if ya squint? (does it count if said voreist doesn't swallow?), sexual violence, Reader and Ettore takes every chance to beat each other up honestly, SMUT (MINORS DNI), switches between con/noncon, hatefucking (they will try to kill each other), choking (but like, actually almost to death), slapping, punching, degradation, some misogyny, blood kink, pain kink

word count | 5.1k🤙🏻

You were a dangerous killer, but you knew you didn’t belong here.

You never could’ve fathomed how brutally cold and dark being in deep space truly was. Even inside the ship, no one could ever really escape the constant chill. At first, you thought this was the obvious option, joining this experiment. It was either this, or death row. But this was death row, in its own way. No one believed they’d come out of this mission alive. But you supposed dying in a black hole was more interesting than being pumped full of poison. Less boring. Now, you would’ve preferred death row on Earth. At least that would guarantee you a painless death. Welp, too late now.

At least you weren’t completely alone, if you prefer being in the company of other dangerous and evil people rather than isolation. You’d rather have to constantly look over your shoulder than go mad with loneliness. The crew was an eccentric bunch, as you could imagine. All of them are some type of murderer, like you. Some of them had good reasons, but most of them didn’t. What was more distressing was the fact that the doctor, Dibs, frightened you the most out of them all, but it was mostly due to the fact that the witch was on a personal mission to get one of the females pregnant even though the fetus would die from radiation. Even though she was here because she killed her own children. She was the biggest hypocrite of them all, though you had no room to talk, having a bit of a god complex made you one just as much as she was.

You knew you were different from other people, even at an early age. You didn’t see the world like others did, you never could find the beauty in anything. The first blossoms of spring, the sun rising over the horizon, the miracle of life, the kindness of strangers; you didn’t see any of it. All you could focus on was the evils in the world and you found that the world was overrun with it. Children starving, needless wars, homelessness, animals being tortured and killed for entertainment; it was all there was, it was wrong. It was all wrong.

Your parents had taken you to therapy multiple times, but nothing ever seemed to work. You were diagnosed as depressed and they hopped you up on all kinds of medication, but you weren’t depressed, not really. Just because you saw the world for how it really was didn’t automatically mean you were depressed, you just refused to be ignorant of it. You didn’t see the point of being a cooperative member of society when it wouldn’t take care of you. It had nothing to offer you, so you just refused to play along. The first anyone noticed something was truly wrong was the first day of kindergarten. You had beaten a boy near half to death because you saw him pushing another kid around. They weren’t fighting back, so you did it for them. Your parents had to pay the brat’s hospital bills. You didn’t understand why the doctors helped save the life of a kid who’d grow up to be an even bigger bully. A waste of oxygen, you thought. You barely paid attention to the severe scolding your parents gave you about how “violence was never the answer.” Bullshit, you knew that, even your parents knew that, they just wanted to follow the so-called moral rules to be accepted. But that wasn’t you, you didn’t need social acceptance. Not by anyone, not even your own family. But there wasn’t much you could do about it at the time.

You grew into your teenage years without so much of a punch to anyone, not even to defend yourself. You were beaten up by so many of your fellow students, you could’ve gotten a punch card for every time you had to be sent to the nurse’s office. You just bottled up everything.

The first time you ever felt a semblance of love was when your little sister was born. As soon as your mother placed her in your arms at the hospital, you knew you had to protect her. You never wanted her to be like you, you didn’t want her to end up like you, ostracized and bullied. You’d lay down your life and kill for her if need be. You made that promise to yourself. So, when you walked in on your father with his hand down her pants, you had no idea how to react. Fathers weren’t supposed to touch their children that way. He had all but flung her off his lap once he saw you, claiming that they were just playing a game. But you weren’t a naive child anymore, you knew what he was doing.

Before you could think on it any further, you ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, but your father was close behind to stop you. He had wrestled you to the ground, trying to take the knife away, but you blindly thrusted the blade upwards, hearing a sickening squelch before something wet hitting your face. The world seemed to go dark for a brief moment, before coming back into view and seeing your father’s horrified face. You followed your arm to the blade in your hand, your heart leaping out of your chest. You had aimed for your father above you, but your sister must’ve followed you and tried to stop the fight. Tears filled your eyes as you saw your knife stuck in your little sister’s chin, her tiny body going limp and crumbling to the floor, your arm frozen in place allowing the blade to come free as she fell.

Your father screamed and screamed at you as he wailed with his baby girl in his arms, trying to stop the blood copiously flowing from her neck and making a red sticky puddle on the tiles. But it was too late, the life had already drained from her once bright innocent eyes. You didn’t mean to…it was an accident…but you knew your father would spin the story in his favor. So, you did what you only thought you could.

You buried your blood coated knife into your father’s back, hearing him exhale a choked breath in shock. The blade was long, so the one hit wasn’t enough. So you did it again. And again. And Again. And again. Again until he fell to the floor, unable to yell or cry as you kept stabbing. You couldn’t count how many times you dug the blade into his chest, enough until you couldn’t tell what was his shirt or his skin. You were drenched at this point. You knew you had to leave. You threw up, thick tears and painful sobs escaping your throat as you looked upon your mistakes.

You showered, rubbing your skin raw and hastily packing a bag and running from your childhood home. You didn’t want to think about the look on your mother’s face when she ultimately got home from work, calling out for her husband and two precious children whom she loved dearly. She wouldn’t know that he was a predator or that he preyed on his own daughter. She wouldn’t know why she walked onto a bloodbath in the kitchen, you nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t believe the police when they say you should be considered a suspect. You were odd and violent when you were little, yes, but you could never kill your own family. She saw your face of awe when you looked down at your newborn sister in your arms. She’d never believe you to be the culprit, until the DNA came back matching yours. You weren’t her daughter anymore. She wasn’t a wife or a mother anymore. She was nothing, much like you.

You didn’t bother to control yourself anymore. You had nothing to live for. You were nothing. You weren’t a protector, now that you had nobody to protect. But you soon realized that wasn’t necessarily true. There were other kids in similar situations, you could try to protect them. Like a light bulb when off in your head, you suddenly had a purpose once again. Like your father, you’d find and punish those who’d hurt their children. And that’s exactly what you did, until you got caught of course. But you had a good run, ridding the world of some of the filth it had to offer. You were bloodthirst, you craved to see the looks of horror on these men’s faces as they knew they would be punished for their misdeeds. If you had time, you’d torture them. But you rarely had that luxury of taking your time, but you still felt better knowing one less evil person was in the world. It was ironic that you were now on a crew full of evil people.

Monte didn’t seem all that bad, a bit temperamental. He didn’t hesitate to knock your lights out if you pissed him off, you learned that firsthand. Well, most of the inmates did that. Ettore though, was one you had trouble figuring out. He was quiet, observant, not particularly violent though like the other inmates. He was a pervert though, hypersexual. It definitely put off all of you. He used the Box every day, but that wasn’t unusual. You were instructed to never talk about why you were here, but gossip was like breathing, you couldn’t go without it. You learned he killed someone in a particularly violent way when he was a teenager, much like you. He was a minor but was charged as an adult, got the same ultimatum like the rest of you; death row or deep space.

You’d honestly thought he’d try to talk to you, given that you both were around the same age and the “babies” of the crew, but he never did. But maybe that was for the better, attracting the attention of another inmate didn’t seem like the best move. For the most part, you just kept to yourself, trying not to bother anyone. But the witch doctor seemed to have it out for you, she hated you, but you knew that was because you couldn’t participate in her own experiments. You knew you never wanted to have kids, so you gave yourself an injury that made it so that you were barren. You almost died then, but you figured it was worth it since you didn’t have to be seen as just a walking womb to be played with.

Over time, you got yourself into a bit of a messy schedule. Not having a schedule was just something else that would make you go crazy. There wasn’t much to do in this space prison, but there was a rec room with games and books. You had exhausted all those resources pretty quickly. A rubik’s cube you were fond of was what you chose to be part of your schedule. Every day cycle, you’d try to solve that cube before going to sleep. It was one of the only things that helped you relax, besides the Box. But similarly to Monte, you didn’t really indulge all that often. The Box, even when you needed it, almost always left you numb. You weren’t one for human touch, but you weren’t immune to craving that intimacy. So the rubik's cube it was. You hogged it constantly, but that only got you a broken nose from Boyse due to it being one of her favorites too. But it didn’t matter. You claimed it for yourself, and nobody else cared enough to fight you on it.

Months into the mission, you started to notice Ettore around you more often. Most of the time, he’d just…stare at you. Openly. You’d never gotten attention from him before, so this sudden display startled you, but not enough to do something about it. It was only until he started to purposely bump into you in the halls did you start to worry. He was already a creep, but he only got creepier as he started to catch your gaze just to smile at you. Smiling didn’t suit his character, no matter how pretty it was. His lips were one of the first things you noticed when you met him, how soft and plump they looked. But a smile on them just looked out of place for the likes of a murderer. You certainly never smiled, you never had anything to smile about. You knew you’d get some odd looks if you were to suddenly flash your teeth.

You were just so on edge one day, the rubik’s cube wasn’t helping, so you went down to the Box. It was just a quick and easy session, just to relieve some tension. And it worked, until you ran into Ettore as you came out of the machine. You watched his already dark eyes darken even more as he saw the state of you. Sweaty, breathless, disarray. He looked like a wolf ready to pounce on you, but it was only the rules that held him back. No inmate was allowed to have sex with each other, hence the reason for the Box.

Ettore hummed as he placed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his touch linger until you pushed him away roughly, but it only made him smirk and push you up against the cold wall of the Box. You glared as you felt his hard on pressing against your thigh, his hands keeping you firmly in place. “I bet your pussy would feel so good around my cock.” He almost moaned at the thought, biting his bottom lip. “If it weren’t for that cockblocking witch, I’d have you on every surface of this fuckin’ ship.”

You hated how your recently stimulated clit throbbed at his words, your body betraying you for the most primitive urges. Much like how good it felt to take a life, you knew it would feel good to fuck your fellow inmate. You wanted to tell yourself that he was a perverted murderer, you should not want to fuck him. But you were no better than him, no better than anyone here. But you pushed him off anyway, punching him in the gut and casually walking back to the ladder. “Enjoy the Box.” You spoke before climbing up, leaving the young man aching and angry.

You tried avoiding Ettore after that encounter, but of course that’s hard to do when you’re on a small ship with nowhere else to go. He didn’t hide the glares directed at you and he always seemed like he was about to do something, but never did. He was unpredictable, and you hated that. Everything about this mission was unpredictable, but you did have some control over what happened to you, Ettore was just another variable that you couldn’t control. You wanted him dead, but you didn’t know how you could get your way without ending up dead yourself.

Wandering the halls with nothing to do, you found yourself on the bridge looking up at the stars. The view always freaked you out, the sight of stars moving backwards even though the ship was moving forwards. It made you nauseous and a panic attack not too far behind. But you kept looking up through the large windows anyway. At least it made you feel something. Feelings tended to be sparse in deep space. You often wondered what it would be like to be stretched and compressed by a black hole. How badly would it hurt? Would you feel anything at all? Would it last for a second or an eternity? No one knows, and no one who finds out would be able to tell since they’d be reduced to atoms. Black holes are probably where Hell is located, you figured, if the theory that you’d be in unimaginable pain for all eternity is correct. You wanted to stop thinking about it, but you couldn’t. Not until you felt a warm presence come up behind you.

You didn’t have to guess who it was, by the stiff length that was pressing against your ass, you could already tell it was Ettore. The young blonde couldn’t take a hint, could he? You didn’t move away, for some reason that was unknown to you. Even as you felt his hands traveled around your waist, holding onto your hips with a bruising grip, you didn’t push him away. He took deep inhales of the scent of your hair, his hands traveling up to grope at your breasts as you continued watching the stars. You started to think about your sister, how she might react to the stars. You remembered the first time you pointed out a constellation you knew, teaching her about various different ones, knowing she was too young to remember. But it was one of your only fond memories. You held onto it, remembering her toothless grin as she got excited about learning something new.

You gasped as Ettore’s hand brushed against your clothed core, cupping it roughly until you winced. “Why waste time looking at these stars when I can make you see much prettier ones, hm?” He hummed in your ear, licking up the side of your neck, unwanted goosebumps rising all over your body.

“No.” You scoffed, pushing him off you, but he stopped you from walking away by grabbing your wrist.

“You want to.” He smirked smugly.

“No, I really don’t.” You tried pulling away, but his grip only tightened.

“Liar.”

“Fuck off!” You yelled, wringing your arm back and swiftly connecting your balled up fist to his nose. You grinned when he stumbled back, holding his hand to his face but seeing his blood flow through his fingers. He looked back up at you with a glare before leaping at you, tackling you to the floor, one hand around your throat and the other wailing on your face with his fist. Your ears rung as his fist landed right in front on your ear and feeling your nose and mouth fill with blood as he punched you. You spit your blood back in his face when you sensed a pause in his beating, leaning your head down as much as possible to bite his forearm of the hand that was grabbing your throat. You bit hard and didn’t let go until he recoiled with a shout, cradling his arm that now had a bloody teeth indent and a small chunk of flesh missing. You could still see the outline of his cock stressing against his orange jumpsuit. You could’ve laughed, the bastard was still turned on.

“Cunt!” He growled, but all you did was spit out the skin you took from his arm. “You can’t deny me forever.”

You raised your brows unimpressively, standing up while wiping the blood off your face with your sleeve. “Watch me.”

You stormed up with an aching face yet again, but you didn’t bother to visit Dibs, you didn’t feel like being scolded for defending yourself. But you ended up getting yelled at anyway for biting Ettore the way you did, your dose of medicine only being increased as a punishment. Seeing the bloody bandage around his arm almost made it worth it though.

The next few day cycles were a blur, the drugs making you sluggish and tired all the time. You didn’t even try to hide your disdain for Ettore every time you had to be around him and it made everyone feel tense, like they were waiting for a bomb to explode. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, but you sure did try. It was only a week later until that bomb finally exploded.

You had gone to the rec room before bed like you’d always done to try and solve that damned rubik's cube. You were so close, almost having solved all sides. But looking around the room, you couldn’t find it. You felt a panic attack start to bubble up in your chest, frantically searching everywhere around the room until you heard someone clear their throat.

“Lookin’ for something?” You frowned as Ettore came into view, him casually leaning against the doorframe, holding the small colorful box in his hand.

“Give it back.” You growled, your skin flushing with anger.

He only smirked, which made you ball your fists and stomp towards him. “No, I don’t think I will.” He chuckled when you tried to grab it from his hands, but he was taller than you and held it up where you couldn’t reach. You tried to repress a shiver when he ran one of his hands up your side where your shirt had ridden up, but you instantly pushed him away.

“Dick!” You seethed, the urge to punch his stupid face getting stronger and stronger.

He smiled softly. “I know. But if you give me what I want, I’ll give this back.” He juggled the cube back and forth between his hands, giving you an expectant look.

You stood as close as possible to him without touching, getting right in his face, not missing the way his eyes trailed down to your lips. “You can go fuck yourself.”

Ettore surged forward, roughly pressing his lips against yours with a growl, the sound going straight to your core; but you wouldn’t tolerate his behavior. You pulled yourself away and threw your fist against his face, then wound up to hit him again but he caught it this time. He grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled you to his chest, disregarding the rubik’s cube. “I’m getting fuckin’ sick of you hitting me.”

“Then stop acting like someone who deserves to be hit.” He cut you off by slapping you, grabbing onto your neck before kissing you again. You bit his bottom lip, hearing him let out a pained groan as your teeth cut into his sensitive flesh. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.” You demanded.

Ettore grinned evilly. “Go ahead. Scream. It’ll make it better for me.” You struggled as hard as you could against his hold on you, dragging your feet as he pulled you further into the room after shutting the door.

“I’ll fucking gut you, you piece of shit!” You yelled, clawing and kicking until he kneed you in the stomach, knowing the breath out of your lungs until you were wheezing. “Fuck…you…” You coughed, crumpling to the floor.

Ettore kneeled with you, powerless to stop him from removing your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air. You winced as he groped them roughly, forcing you on your back with one hand while the other ripped your pants and underwear off. Unwanted tears sprang to your eyes as you fought, just recovered enough from the blow to your stomach to scratch his face, droplets of blood pooling to the surface of his cheek. “Cunt.” He slapped you again, straddling your hips as he removed his own shirt but only unbuttoning his trousers.

“You disgust me.” You spat, glaring up at him.

You let out a yelp as Ettore shoved two of his long fingers inside you with no warning, his smirk making you feel more uncomfortable than the digits stretching your walls. “Really? Why is your pussy so wet then, eh?”

“Knowing that I hurt you gives me more satisfaction than that fuckin’ Box.” You hissed as he pinched your clit with a sadistic chuckle. He forced your legs apart, kneeling in between that as he took his hardened cock out of his pants, lining himself up with your entrance but with a great struggle since you didn’t stop wiggling around. Your head jerked to the side as he punched you a couple times, making you unresisting enough that he could fully sheathe himself inside of you. You let out a cry as he hit the ends of you, your walls clamping down on him, trying to expel the intrusion.

“Fuck!” Ettore groaned. “So much better than that Box. So warm. So tight.” He stuttered, moving his hips back and forth without giving you time to accommodate. The stretch burned and you couldn’t keep in your painful whimpers. Your cries only seemed to spur him on further, thrusting his hips at a faster pace, way too fast so early.

“Stop!” You cried, beating your fists against his chest erratically.

“Nah. You’re gonna take it. You’re gonna take it until I say we’re done.” He laughed, speeding up his thrusts to purposely make it even more painful for you. But instead of it hurting more, it had the opposite effect. His cock started to brush up against that sensitive spot inside you, eliciting a whine from your lips.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ die!” You growled angrily, baring your teeth like a cornered animal.

“Yeah?” He mocked, giving your cheek another slap just for good measure before continuing his brutal pace.

Eventually, your cunt produced so much slick, it was soaking his cock and your inner thighs, his pelvis shimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the ship. Lewd noises coming from your intimate union forced heat to spread across your cheeks, the wet suction echoing off the walls with every jolt of Ettore’s hips made an unwanted pang of pleasure shoot through your body, making goosebumps rise along your skin.

You hated that you were feeling pleasure from this. You were so ashamed, but god, it felt so much better than the pain of his cock splitting you open over and over again.

You felt so hot, a thin layer of sweat covering your entire body. Ettore on top of you made it even worse, his sweat coated body pressing up against yours, your breasts being squished under the weight of his chest. You were breathless as his dick kept brushing against your g-spot as he kept moving in and out of you rapidly, feeling your slick dripping off the curve of your ass and pooling onto a puddle on the cold floor. You couldn’t keep your moans in and against your hatred for the man, you allowed your body to relax and indulge in the euphoric sensations. Ettore’s smug smirk made it difficult however.

You looked to your right, seeing the discarded rubik’s cube sitting idly on the floor next to you. You didn’t hesitate to grab onto it tightly, hitting Ettore over the head with it again and again until he was weak enough to push him off of you. But instead of running like you should’ve done, you straddled him, pushing his cock back inside you and riding him, chasing that release that had already begun building in your core.

Ettore groaned with a smirk, looking up at you in a pleasured haze (and possible concussion). “I knew you wanted to fuck me.” You replied by punching him square in the jaw, busting his lip open deep enough that a small trail of blood slid down the side of his face. You shocked him by leaning down and licking the red substance, the metallic bitter taste coating your tongue and making you move your hips faster. His furrowed brows from the pleasure and pain spurred you on further, raking your nails down his chest hard enough until little droplets of blood beaded on his pale skin, his groan filling your ears and making your clit throb.

You placed both your hands around Ettore’s neck as you continued to thrust against him, squeezing harder and harder the closer you got to your climax. You smiled with a loud moan as you heard his choked gasps, his face getting red as he attempted and failed to breathe in the recycled oxygen. The sight of him struggling to breathe edged you closer and closer. But eventually, he started to fight against you, grabbing onto your hands to try and pry you off. You tried to dig your fingers tighter against his skin, determined to make him pass out at least, but he knocked you off him with a single strong punch to your cheek. “You can’t kill me that easily.” Ettore coughed out hoarsely, his near death experience not even being enough to take a break from fucking you. He took a deep breath and resumed plowing into you like you didn’t just almost kill him. “God, you’re so pretty beaten and bloody like this.” He moaned, grabbing onto your neck and squeezing like you had down previously, though not enough that’d you pass out. The lack of oxygen made the pleasure all the more intense, your walls clamping down on his cock as your release was right there. “Such a fuckin’ whore, aren’t you? I bet you’ve wanted this all along. You just needed to be put in your place, right? Don’t worry, I’ll never let you forget where you belong, what you’re good for. You’re just a pretty little toy whose only purpose is to be fucked and filled.”

You moaned as his words finally made that wave of ecstasy wash over you like a tsunami, powerful and unforgiving as it destroyed you, making your mind go blank as the only thing you could feel was that throbbing pleasure that knocked the breath out of you. Ettore groaned as your walls seemed to pull him in deeper, pulsing rhythmically as you rode out your high with shuddering high pitched moans and trembling limbs. It didn’t take long at all for him to reach his climax as well, pumping you full of his cum with a load strained groan, sweat dripping down the side of his face and mixing with his blood as he slumped against you to try and catch his breath.

You came out of your daze enough to feel him against you, hearing and feeling his deep breaths fan against your skin, making you panic and quickly push him off you; there was nothing he could do about it since he was so weak from his orgasm. You sat up with a huff, dressing yourself frantically, refusing to look at Ettore.

“I bet you’ve never come that hard before.” He voiced arrogantly, making you roll your eyes.

“I have.”

“Liar.”

You turned back around to glare at him. “If you try this shit again, I’ll kill you. That’s a promise.”

Ettore, still naked, stood up and pulled you to him by your waist with a smirk. “Forgive me if I doubt that. You sure seemed to enjoy yourself, slut. I wouldn't be surprised if you came crawling back for more soon.”

You scowled, unable to voice any retort like you usually did. You blamed your post orgasm haze. Ettore only hummed, dressing himself and walking past you, bumping your shoulder. You bit your lip hard until you tasted blood, hating yourself and him.

“Well, whenever you feel like you wanna be filled with a real cock again, you know where to find me.”

don't know where this came from honestly😬

hiyaaa can we get more Tom Bennet fics? 🥺 Any plot will do… just more Tom Bennet smut ;;

And more Aemond fics as well if that isn’t too much to ask 🫣😮‍💨

Love your works!! Keep up the good work :)))

I'm attempting to work on a Tom Bennett smutty fic right now😊. It's gonna be a sort of modern special agent/undercover spy type AU, and i'm really excited about it! But it's gonna take a looooooong time to research and finish cause...well, everything going on in my life right now lmao. Mostly school, i'm taking a history class and it's so fuckin boring, but i'm trying to take it seriously and it is taking up ALL of my time. But I will finish it...someday eventually, if my brain doesn't explode😅

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 - Paddy x Augustin

i'm on that paddy/augustin bullshit and i HAD to write a little fic about them. ugh, i can't with these two. and like, the show should've shown us what happened after Augustin got back like?!?!? a missed opportunity💅🏻

Warnings: spoilers for episode 6 of S.A.S.!!!, angst, and hurt/comfort my beloved🥰

word count | 0.9k (short n' sweet)🤙🏻

Augustin was exhausted, drained, hopeless…betrayed. 

He thought he knew his men, he really did. Paddy kept saying that his German ally would turn on him, and he ended up being right. Though, it wasn’t Essner like he thought it would be. 

It took them all by surprise, a very deadly surprise. He was surprised he even made it out unscathed, nothing but a couple light burn marks on his back. It was only the adrenaline that got him out of that enemy camp. It was hard to be thankful when all his men, people he had known since the war even started, all were dead. 

Survivor’s guilt already weighed heavy on the Frenchman’s shoulders.

He already dreaded what would happen when he got back to camp, alone and unsuccessful in the mission. How would everyone react? How would Paddy react? Maybe he’d kill him right on the spot. He wouldn't put it past him, knowing how quick he was to anger. If that twisted roulette game he played just to prove a point was any indication, Augustin was probably in for a world of hurt. But at this point, it was hard to care what would happen to himself now.

By the time he made it back to camp, Augustin was dehydrated, his muscles were throbbing in pain, his lips bloody from how chapped they got in the desert sun, skin blistered from the coarse sand and sunburnt; he was in a bad way. He heard shouts from his comrades before falling to the desert floor, his vision going dark.

When Augustin finally regained consciousness, he jolted upright with a fearful expression before he heard soft shushes from beside him, a firm but reassuring hand on his shoulder. He tried not to look so surprised when he saw it was Paddy that was sitting at his bedside, looking over him in subtle concern. “Took quite a tumble out there, Frenchie.” Paddy spoke in his familiar Irish accent, sitting back in his chair.

Augustin would’ve rolled his eyes at the nickname if it weren’t for his splitting headache he had coming on, his mouth was so dry, discomfort written all over his face. Paddy seemed to instantly take notice as he handed him a glass of water, the Frenchman immediately taking big gulps, letting out a loud exhale of relief as he felt the lukewarm liquid travel down his throat pleasantly. “How long have I been asleep?” Augustin asked hesitantly, almost too afraid to know the answer.

“Just half a day. Lads took care of ya real quick after you made it back, gettin’ ya out of the sun, tending to your burns.”

Augustin nodded in acknowledgement, awkwardly taking a few more sips from his glass, his body feeling way too stiff and uncomfortable, from the burns and the Irishman’s intense gaze on him.

“So, ya gonna tell me what happened?” Paddy gave him an expectant look, almost smug, like he knew what already had taken place. He wasn’t being subtle with the way he was just longing to utter the words I told you so. He had made his concerns quite clear, and Augustin felt like a fool to not take his words seriously before it was too late.

Augustin sighed heavily, pushing his glasses up higher on his face. “It wasn’t Essner…”

Paddy nodded, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk. “Tweedle Deutsche. He was my second choice.”

Augustin growled in frustration, glaring at the Irishman with disdain. “Must you make a joke about everything? My men died!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t take my advice. I told you-”

“Don’t!” Augustin yelled, throwing his empty water glass across the tent, making Paddy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the glass shatter echoing throughout the area. “Don’t…” Augustin’s voice dropped to a whisper, angry tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to spill over, doing exactly that only when his hid his face in his hands, an embarrassed blush spreading across his face and neck when he couldn’t keep himself from letting out soft sobs and his hands only doing so much to muffle them. “You were right, Paddy…You were right and I didn’t listen and now my men are dead…Maybe I should’ve died with them.” 

“Don’t say that.” Paddy quickly spoke, but Augustin only looked up from his hands when he felt his cot shift, seeing the Irishman take an awkward seat next to his legs, resting a hand on his knee in an attempt to be reassuring, but both men were acutely aware that reassurance wasn’t and would never be Paddy’s forte. “No…it wasn’t your fault. It was that Nazi rat’s fault for being a dirty traitor.” He spat, his accent becoming much thicker when he was angry.

Augustin couldn’t resist letting out a weak chuckle, wiping away some of his fallen tears. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, Paddy. But I know when I need to take responsibility for my actions.”

“Try not to dwell on it is all the advice I can give you, but I know how hard that is.” Paddy's gaze turned forlorn as he thought back to Eoin, knowing his actions back then was the reason he was dead. “Impossible, really…I am sorry about your men though. They were good men, despite being French.” Paddy joked, but his words held no malice as they normally did, a very good possibility it was for Augustin’s sake though he’d never admit it. “And for what it’s worth…I’m glad you made it out alive.”

Augustin grinned, his confidence returning, it only for a moment. “Aw, have you started to care about me, Paddy Mayne?”

“Oi, don’t push your luck, tadpole.”

i request more of them in the next season plz

dude what the fuck? i'm not even into Pedro Pascal but this was so hot??! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME???? Fuck...

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

(gif originally by @joelmjller tumblr absolutely refused to show it in gif search)

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.

"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."

"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."

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 mean 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 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.

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.

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?"

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.

"No," you promised, "I don't— fuck…"

"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

"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?"

"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.

"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.

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.

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

"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.

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.

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.

"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—"

"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."

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

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

"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.

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.

"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—"

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…"

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Osferth (The Last Kingdom)

honestly, got this idea from that one episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air that absolutely broke me and made me revisit my abandonment issues. so yeah, this is gonna be sad. i apologize in advance🤷🏻‍♀️(p.s. don't read this while listening to hurt by Christina Aguilera or because of you by Kelly Clarkson)

Warnings: spoilers for TLK (obvi, and for Death Of Kings), angst, hurt/comfort, daddy & abandonment issues (like same, i kin osferth honestly), Alfred was a great king but a shitty father (in the show at least), kinda bittersweet

word count | 2.3k🤙🏻

You all stood in king Aethelred’s throne room, watching King Alfred and your leader Uhtred discuss battle plans. It all sounded very important but all you could watch was how Osferth’s lips turned into a frown as his father embraced his daughter, Aethelflaed. He looked like a kicked puppy and all you could do was glare at the King with disdain.

You hadn’t been in this team of Lord Uhtred for very long, but long enough to know that you cared deeply for each one of your companions and would give your life for any one of them, but especially Osferth. You were there when he first introduced himself, so shy and soft spoken, wanting to be like his uncle. So to see him so sullen made you want to drive your blade into the King’s skull.

You never understood why being a bastard was bad, but everyone said it like it was one of the worst things you could be, especially if you were a bastard of a king. Osferth was always introduced as a bastard first, never as a warrior or one of Uhtred’s men, always just King Alfred’s bastard. It didn’t sit right with you, and it clearly made him uncomfortable. You tried to never think of him as Alfred’s bastard, just your friend. Osferth was the sweetest person in the world, so how on earth would anyone ever give him away? You saw how it affected him, even if he didn’t show it. You saw how he looked at Edward and Aethelflaed, that envy and longing. He just wanted to be loved and accepted, and Alfred took that from him. You had no respect for the king.

Osferth couldn’t even be in the presence of Edward, his half brother, having to quietly excuse himself. You couldn’t let him go on his own. Ever since you met the boy, you’ve had an overwhelming urge to keep him safe, always anxious whenever he was out of sight. You felt bad for still wanting to protect him, knowing he’s proven himself time and time again that he can defend himself. It was hard to not to think back to the time when he cried when he killed his first man. War makes you desensitized, whether that was a good thing or not.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly once you caught up with him.

“Mhm.” He hummed, his eyes not meeting yours.

You frowned. “You don’t have to lie to me, Osferth. I thought we were closer than that.”

“It’s not that.” He sighed, resting his hands inside his leather chest armor, a cute quirk he got into the habit of doing. “I just don't want to waste my breath on him…”

“It’s okay to have feelings about it, you know? You don’t have to keep it all bottled inside, not around me.”

Osferth did continue to keep his feelings bottled up since that day, and it made you upset that he was just suffering in silence. Your worrying became even worse after the battle where you all fought against Haesten’s army, your baby monk getting harmed in the process. Thankfully, the damage wasn’t too bad but he’d be out of fighting for a while so he could heal. You made no qualms when you were tasked with taking care of him at his half sister’s estate, you tried to do that all the time anyway. You still wanted him to open up to you, but you didn’t want to push him. You weren’t a bastard but you understood what it was like to not have a parent want you, you knew what complicated and conflicting feelings came along with it. He didn’t have to be alone in his struggle.

Osferth made no mention of the conversation you had with him that day, only thanking you and expressing apologies whenever you helped him around his injuries (although he made a habit of calling Finan a slave). You tried not to speak of it, not wanting to upset him, especially when he was healing from his physical wounds. You could see how exhausted he was, how his once bright blue eyes dimmed with pain. He was more irritable, uncharacteristically so, to the point even Finan was tired of taking care of him. You could see he was hurting, but you didn’t know how or when to bring it up.

It seemed all those suppressed emotions came to a head one day, a loud crash being heard throughout the building, coming from Osferth’s room. You took off in that direction, seeing a disheveled Finan right outside the boy’s door. “What the hell is going on?” You asked.

“I made a joke, just teasing, then the lad went off like an absolute nutter.” Finan huffed, “I was trying to give him some water but he threw it back at me and it broke.” You made a move to walk into the room, but he put his arm out to stop you. “I wouldn’t. I’d just let him be for now, until he calms down at least.”

“Come on, it’s not like he’s going to hurt me, Finan.” You pushed his arm out of the way and promptly entered the bedroom.

You almost expected the room to be in ruins, but all that looked out of place was the shattered pottery that once held water scattered on the floor. And Osferth, sitting with his back turned to the door on his bed, his head hanging low. “Sorry Finan, I didn’t mean to get so upset…” Osferth whispered softly, turning his head to only see you and not the Irishman. “Oh, uh, didn’t know it was you.”

You smiled weakly, coming to sit next to him. “It’s okay, but are you?”

Osferth shrugged, a slight blush coming to his face at your close proximity. “He just made a joke about me being…ya know. He does it all the time so I don’t know why I got so mad. He’s not angry with me, is he?”

You shook your head. “No. He seemed like he kind of felt bad, this time, at least…Ever since that day at Aethelred’s estate, you’ve not been yourself. I know you haven’t been showing it, but I can feel that you’re upset. I think talking to someone might help, it doesn’t have to be me obviously, but someone. Maybe Sihtric? Since he’s-” You were interrupted by the sounds of soft sniffles and whimpers, your brows immediately furrowing in concern as soon as you saw Osferth’s pained expression. “Osferth?” You whispered softly, cautiously reaching out to hold his hand, afraid to scare him away.

“I hate feeling this way.” He sniffled, using his other hand to angrily wipe away a couple fallen tears. “Alfred never even tried to talk to me, never. As soon as I was born, he forced me into the monastery. I’ve never known anything else, so why do I feel this way? How can I miss something I’ve never had? Even now, I’m nothing to him. I’ve never been anything but a burden to him…”

“You are anything but a burden, Osferth.” You spoke sternly, anger welling up inside you at Alfred for making your best friend feel that way.

“But I am! I’m an embarrassment. That’s the only reason Lord Uhtred even let me join him in the first place. All to embarrass the…king.” He spat.

“Osferth…”

“Why doesn’t he want me?” Osferth cried, his tears falling off his cheeks onto your hands that held his on his lap. The pain in his voice even made you tear up, and all you wanted to do was wrap him up in your arms and never let him go. I want you, I want you more than anything in the world, you wanted to say. But all you did was squeeze his hand tighter and pulled him onto your chest, holding the back of his head and running your fingers through his hair soothingly.

“You are not a burden.” You whispered into his hair, pulling him to you as close as humanly possible. “Not to me, not to Uhtred, not to anyone. Anyone who even thinks that will meet the end of my blade. Alfred is a fool to not see your worth and if I could, I’d cut off his head without remorse.”

Osferth quickly shushed you, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw hesitantly. “Such talk is treason.”

“You’re worth it, Osferth.” You spoke with such sincerity it made the pale boy blush, his tears cascading down over his pink cheeks made such a beautifully sad portrait, his eyes a stark blue from crying. You couldn’t help but lean forward and gently kiss the wrinkle in between his eyebrows. “You’ll always be worth it to me.” You took a deep breath, your heart hammering inside your ribcage. “Unlike Alfred…I’ll never abandon you, baby monk. Even in death, you wouldn’t be rid of me.”

Osferth chuckled tearfully, looking up at you in awe. “You’re an angel, you know that?”

Now it was your turn to blush, but you gently shook your head. “I do not.”

“You are. It’s because of you I know God exists. How could He not when such a woman as you is sitting before me?” Your breath catches, a fluttering feeling rattling around in your stomach as you and Osferth look into each other’s eyes. “Can I…can I kiss you, my lady?” He stuttered, a hopeful expression on his face.

“Please…” You whispered in reply, both of you leaning forward and capturing his lips with yours.

And you decided to stay with him that night, refusing to leave his side even when he said he was feeling better. You held him in your arms, allowing his head to rest against your chest, the sound of your soothing heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

Eventually when the death of King Alfred was announced, it didn’t shock anyone; he was frail and sickly and should have died a long time ago, but that didn’t make it hurt any less for anyone. He was called great for a reason, he was loved and respected by many, even his enemies. His family were devastated, his friends, his allies, even those like Uhtred who were reluctant in following him at first. Except you, you had difficulty finding any sympathy in your heart for really one reason only: Osferth.

You had no respect or shroud of kindness for the king in life, so why would you in death? All you cared about was Osferth and how he felt.

You thought back to all the times you’d walk in on Osferth crying, always quick to wipe away his tears like he never was crying in the first place. He was so quick in concealing his emotions that anyone else never would’ve noticed, but you always did. After being with Alfred in the throne room, when he looked so relieved that his daughter was safe, Osferth would excuse himself. Whenever Uhtred had discussions with Edward or Aethelflaed, he would do the exact same thing. You knew he had to be feeling something towards his father’s death, whether he would admit it or not. You just wanted to be there for him if he needed you.

Like any king’s death, the aftermath was chaos. You all had to worry for Uhtred for a while there, but everything turned out alright in the end. People were celebrating the new King Edward’s coronation, drinking and humping the night away, but Osferth was nowhere to be found. You had asked your boys if they had seen him anywhere, but no one knew and all Finan did was joke that he might be finally losing his virginity. Not that helpful.

You finally found him sitting against one of the walls of the town, drinking a pint of ale. His lips instinctively upturned in a brief smile when he saw you walking his way, though his eyes looked weary. “What are you doing all the way out here, huh?” You asked softly, crouching down to sit next to him, causally taking a sip from his mug.

Osferth shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“Oh, yeah? About what?” You reached over and interlaced your fingers with his, smiling when he brought your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

“Before Alfred died…I visited him.” He exhaled shakily, and you couldn’t help but gasp.

“What did he say?” You asked curiously, but also dreading the answer just in case.

Osferth smiled sadly, tears already welling up in his eyes. “He apologized to me, that it was his fault for me being the way that I am…said he’d put in a good word for me when he got to heaven.” He chuckled weakly, wiping away some of his fallen tears. “He said I was a good man…that he was proud of me, called me his son.”

You teared up at his confession, squeezing his hand tighter. “And…did that make you feel better? Was it closure?”

Osferth’s bottom lip trembled, nodding his head, turning to look at you with a tearful crooked smile. “It was…but I didn’t need to hear it from him to know I’m a good man. I am. You showed me that better than he ever could.”

You smiled bashfully. “Oh, Osferth, you flatter me. But I am glad you made your peace with him, even if it came late.” You kissed his hand as well, moving closer so you could lean your shoulder against his. “Really, my love, are you okay?” You asked seriously, only to receive a sweet kiss on your cheek, causing heat to bloom in your chest in contrast to the cold temperature.

“I am sad, but I’ve lived without my father my entire life. I’ll be okay, especially when you’re right here with me. It’s only you who I need by my side. It’s you I wouldn’t be able to live without.”

“Good, because I don’t plan on leaving you any time soon, my baby monk."

literally wish he and alfred had more screen time TOGETHER, and curse the writers for not including their talk before alfred died. seriously.