This Was Absolute PERFECTION. I Will Be A Tradwife For Aemond And Only Aemond. I Will Continue To Think

This was absolute PERFECTION. I will be a tradwife for Aemond and only Aemond. I will continue to think about this all week🥵

𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 | aemond targaryen x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | these were the only times he showed you any affection— when others were watching. when his reputation was at stake. but as eyes from around the room fell on you as you danced, you swallowed down a lump in your throat as you wondered if they could see it all: the truth, that is. separate bedrooms, sparse conversations, silent meals. {aka, an arranged marriage with aemond that’s not as loveless as it seems, once he’s forced to admit how he really feels…}

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 9.4k (WHOOPS)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (virginity loss with some pain due to aemond being… very gifted, breeding kink ft. breeding press, emotional sex, the slightest dubcon if you squint but trust me it's wanted), arranged marriage, angst, the love isn’t unrequited they’re just idiots, innocent reader, slight infidelity (reader has essentially an emotional affair with a stark!oc), touch starved reader and also touch starved aemond but at the same time cocky aemond lol, reader is insanely whipped for aemond (aka self-insert lmao jk but really tho), slight housewife kink? but really just very old school/traditional views of marriage, reader is implied to be some kind of royal but no mentions of her house or origins or appearance

You knew Aemond hated these sorts of things, but you loved them.  You loved that he had to treat you like a wife for the evening— putting his hand on your shoulder or waist, smiling at you, talking about you to other guests…

Maybe that was the same reason that he hated them.  You really couldn't tell; but on nights like this, you just basked in the fantasy, in the joy of putting on this show for the others so they wouldn't know how loveless and empty your marriage really was.

The banquet was, all things considered, rather uneventful.  You didn't make much conversation, opting to stay firmly planted at your husband's side until he invited you to dance.  He disliked dancing, too, but he was decent at it; you couldn't stop smiling when he took your hand so gently, guiding you to the centre of the room.  His gracefulness and stoic nature reminded you of how you thought of him when you met him for the first time.

You remembered returning home after your first visit, knowing the courtship would be brief for a political marriage and that your next visit would probably be permanent.  You spent the night telling everything to your friends, giddy with romantic glee.  What's he like? they asked.  They say the one-eyed prince is strange— but maybe they all are…

You clutched your hands to your chest as you answered: he's shy, you said, and reserved— mysterious!  But I know he has a kind heart, if only he'll let me near to it.  He took my hand and kissed it… just the way he looked at me as he did made my heart jump!  He's handsome, I think, if in a strange way— he doesn't look anything like the men here.  But I like that…

And they all swooned, going on about how lucky you were, fantasising with you about how romantic it would be when he showed you his true nature and fawned over you as his new wife.

For a dragon, for a man made in fire, he was so cold— frozen solid, right down to his heart.

These were the only times he showed you any affection— when others were watching.  When his reputation was at stake.  But as eyes fell on you as you danced, you swallowed down a lump in your throat as you wondered if they could see it all: the truth, that is.  Separate bedrooms, sparse conversations, silent meals (when you ate together at all, which became rarer over time).

Nearly eight months into marriage, with no pregnancy, you knew there were rumours already about why no children were on the way.  The kindest of them spoke that Aemond didn't desire children and had you on a strict regimen of preventative elixirs and teas; the harshest alleged that you couldn't satisfy him, couldn't interest him, or couldn't bear for him at all.  

Worst of all, you weren't sure which of those were true yourself.  He never told you if he wanted children, or if he had a lover already, or if he was like his brother— spending night after night in whorehouses.

You didn't know him at all, really, and it made your eyes sting at the dance came to an end.  He let go of your hand to clap for the end of the song like the other dancers, and you knew it could be weeks before he touched you again.  You bowed your head and hoped he wouldn't see your eyes getting watery.

When you looked up again, Aemond's attention was elsewhere as a Lord visiting from far away approached him to make conversation; but another set of eyes were upon you, those of the Lord Stark seated across the hall.  His stare was dark, but warm, and you glanced away quickly.  

"Excuse me," you offered quietly to your husband and his conversation partner, who nodded at you to dismiss you before you left.  Making your way to the doors, you saw Stark standing from his chair in the corner of your eye as you passed.

Leaving the party, you walked far enough that you suspected no one else would come by— no one else that wasn't looking for you, that is.  And only one man would come looking for you… 

He did, as you suspected; you waited under a sconce until you heard footsteps behind you.  You turned to face him, and part of you imagined, still, that it would be your husband standing there.  Why did you leave, dear wife?  Wouldn't you like to dance with me again?

He probably didn't even know you were gone.  Instead, you stared at the man standing before you.  "Lord Stark," you greeted with a polite curtsy.

"You may desist the pleasantries," he smirked, full lips surrounded by dark brown stubble on his face, approaching you with a gentle touch to your arm.  "We are alone, my lady."

Sighing, you watched his fingers pet the sleeve of your dress.  What would it be like if Aemond touched your arm, with his delicate touch and slender hands?  "That we are," you agreed softly.

"I've waited quite some time to see you again," Philip Stark said thoughtfully, and you smiled up at him shyly, "and I'm afraid you are even more beautiful than I remembered."

"And you are even more flirtatious than I remembered," you returned, making him laugh lightly.

"Quick-witted as always, my lady," he praised, "but it is not flattery— you know I truly adore you, don't you?  These nights are all I have to look forward to… though it does wound me to see you with him.  Especially now that I know how cruel he really is."

Yes, when you first encountered Philip in one of these empty hallways, you confessed more of the truth to him than you'd ever told anyone.  As embarrassing as it was, he never judged or shamed you; in fact, he apparently fell madly in love with you after that one conversation.  And now here he was, jealous that Aemond married you first, making you feel terrible for the way you entertained the interest of another man.

"I wanted to ask you for a dance," Philip admitted.  "Would you have accepted?"

"Of course," you beamed.

"Then I'll ask now," he decided, extending his hand to you as your eyes widened.

"But there's no music!" you protested.

"Can’t you hear it?” he grinned, making you knit your brows and try to listen more carefully.  With the doors to the main hall shut, you couldn’t hear anything.  “That’s what it’s like to be in love— you hear music when others don’t.”

As sweet as it was for Philip to imply he was in love with you, you had to laugh.  “I think that’s what it’s like to be insane!” you replied.

“The two are actually quite similar,” he winked as you took your hand and pulled you closer, squaring up to dance with you.

For a few moments, it was just that— dancing in the hallway with Philip to silent music.  It was fun, romantic even, and you laughed like you hadn’t in weeks.  And though you couldn’t quite call it a surprise, with the way he was looking at you, you felt a strange sense of disappointment when he kissed you. 

Disappointment because all you could think about as he kissed you was how different it felt from what you thought kissing Aemond would be like.

You'd put a lot of thought into it, actually, since you first met him.  Aemond’s lips seemed soft, and the few times you'd seen the tip of his tongue slip out to wet them as he was immersed in thought, you thought of him tasting your lips.  His touch was delicate and lithe, those thin fingers might tilt your head back so you would look up at him, or lightly tickle the small of your back.  He would be so careful with you, tender and patient as he was in all things, he would savour every moment that your body was pressed to his…

Philip was exactly the opposite in every way.  His stubble scratched against your face, reminding you what you were doing and who you were doing it with.  His kiss was aggressive and hungry, his tongue prying into your mouth as he hummed in delight and pulled you closer by your hips.

It took all your strength, physical and metaphysical, to push him away.  "I can't… my husband—" you began.

"You told me yourself that he ignores you," he sighed, tightening his grip on you to keep you close.  "Didn't you say that you thought he was having an affair of his own?"

"W-well, I'm not sure— I just imagine he must be, since he's never… since we never…"

He growled slightly, leaning in to kiss your neck as you shivered.  "I still can't believe it," he mumbled.  "That the prince has a beautiful wife all to himself and never once bed you.  What a waste that is— you deserve to be pleasured, my love…"

You wanted so much to give into it, to let him take you now and finally know what you'd been waiting so long for.  You wanted it more than anything— to be loved, desired, cherished.  But you still gasped and pushed him away again when he started to grab at your dress.  "I saved my purity for my husband," you reminded him with a frown.

"And you still have it!" he snapped.  "Isn't it time to give it to someone who wants it?"

You'd told him yourself that your husband didn't care for you, and yet it stung horribly to hear Lord Stark say it so plainly.  You dropped your head and bit your shaking lip, sniffling as he awkwardly tried to recant what he'd said.

"I-I've offended you— my apologies— but it is him that should feel guilty, not you," Philip insisted.  "He's mad to treat you in such a way… he should desire you, I can't imagine why he doesn't.  But he doesn't, that much we can both be certain of.  And I do— more than anything, I desire you.  I meant all that I said in my letter— and more.  I have dreamt of you every night since we first met, since you let me kiss your hand…"

The declaration of love was beautiful, and tender, but it was soured— for it all came from the wrong man.  It would be easier to run away with the Lord Stark and be his wife instead, let him give you all the things he promised.  But it was not duty that kept you bound to Aemond… it was devotion; real, pure devotion.

You interrupted the Lord's imploring speech by resting your hand tenderly on his cheek.  He sighed, shutting his eyes and savouring your touch.  "My lady," he whispered reverently.

"I am truly sorry, my Lord," you breathed.  "You are handsome, and gentle— and any lady should be so lucky to have your heart, for it is truly kind and just.  But—"

"But you can only love him," Stark finished with a sneer, jerking away from you dejectedly.  

"I wish I didn't," you admitted with a whimper as you started to cry.  "I wish I was the sort of woman who could ignore my marriage and abandon my husband and just love you, but—"

"Say no more," he interrupted firmly.  "I see now that you never felt for me as you said you did.  You only liked that I gave you the attention your husband does not."

Well, that was sort of true, but it still hurt.

"No wonder he hates you— he knows how wicked you are!"

You reached out for the man but he had already turned to leave you; you wanted to plead for just one more embrace from him, so it would be longer before you forgot how it felt to be held.  But you, apparently, had a single shred of dignity left… or maybe it was just that you were crying too hard to speak.

Crumpling to the floor, you leaned against the stone wall, hearing the sounds of the party grow louder for a moment as the doors to the banquet hall opened again.  The sounds of merriment and joy felt distant, not just because they were literally far away— you had so few joys left already, and one of them had just tossed you aside with impatience and disgust.

When the evening concluded and you were alone in your bed across the castle, you dreamt that Aemond found one of Philip's letters to you; that he read it and confronted you, admitting he was livid to imagine another man stealing you away.  In your dream, Aemond's anger revealed his true lust for you, and he asserted his claim over his wife by violently taking you right there in your bed, all the while swearing to never even let anyone else look at you again. 

It may have sounded like a nightmare to anyone else, but you would accept any interest from Aemond by now— you wouldn't struggle or resist him, too good of a wife to ever deny your husband.  But that was hardly something you had to worry about: you'd never have to deny him, because he'd never want you.  Realising this for the hundredth time hurt just as much as the first; you wept into your pillow for the rest of the night.

~

"What is it that you hate so much about me?" you asked, voice wavering even though you'd imagined being so tough when you finally confronted him.

You hadn't woken up that day planning to ask him that.  You'd woken up that day melancholy as you knew it was your eight month wedding anniversary— and you knew that Aemond didn't care.  He didn't join you for breakfast, and you thought about taking your meal to the terrace to look out at the garden while you ate, but then you thought you'd better just wait for him at the table in case he came late and gave you a kiss on the head as he passed by to his seat.

Of course, he did not.  You didn't see him before lunch, either— or at lunch!  That was when your heartbreak shifted into anger.  If he wanted to be aloof, fine.  If he wanted to be in a purely political marriage without even consummating it, that was his right.  And if he didn't think children were necessary, being the second son and therefore not needing an heir, even though you longed to be less alone and have someone to care for here in this draughty old castle— you could live with all that.

But if he couldn't even think to say hello to his wife, either ignorant or uncaring that the twentieth of every month was another month gone by since the wedding, then he was worse than you realised.  Up until now he’d avoided you, sure, but he wasn’t… mean, except for avoiding you, which was mean in itself.  It made you think of what Philip said a few weeks ago— no wonder he hates you.

So, that was what compelled you to find Aemond in his chambers, swinging the doors open and blurting out your question.

He sighed, seeming annoyed, as he shut his book and looked at you.  Even after seeing firsthand how little he cares about you, part of you imagined he'd be offended when you asked that.  Hate you?  Darling, of course not!  You're my wife, aren't you?

But no, he only contemplated you with an unsurprised frustration as you stood there, shaking hands clenched into fists.  You spoke again when he still said nothing.  "I'd just like you to tell me, Aemond.  Tell me why you despise me so much."

He smiled— fucking smiled— as he tilted his head down and shook it.  "Haven't I done enough for you?  This is the thanks I get, when I try so hard to be kind to you?"

You choked on your gasp, tears falling down your face already even though you wanted more than anything not to let him see you weep.  "Is this what it looks like when you try?  I'd hate to see what happens when you just give in and show me how you really feel."

He scoffed.  "You would hate it," he agreed.

"You're so cruel…" you whispered, choking on a sob.  "How do you do that, Aemond?  How are you so horrible to me, without a second thought?"

That seemed to anger him properly, and he finally stood up as rage heated his face.  "How dare you come to my chambers and question me?  After all I've done for you—!"

"All you've done?" you repeated incredulously.  "Ignored and belittled me?  Treated me like a stranger, secluded me to another bedroom… are these your mercies?"

He seemed confused— an emotion you weren't used to seeing on him.  "Yes!" he answered, irritated.  "What more could you want?  I can't exactly have you living on another continent, can I?"

You blinked quickly, shaking your head at him.  "I— I don't understand…"

"I grant you all that, because I know this marriage was not your choice," he explained, like it was obvious.  "It wasn't mine either— we can at least be civil, and keep up appearances, for your honour and my own."

"Honour?  Aemond, the court believes I am barren!  I haven't the heart to tell them that you're disgusted by me!"

He stepped closer to you, the short distance making your heart race.  "Disgusted?  You may think me a monster, but I am only a man— even I know how beautiful you are."

Your throat caught.  He said it like you should know— but it was news to you, and it made your heart skip.  "If… if you think me beautiful, why— why did you never lay with me?  Even on our wedding night?" you asked, feeling your face warm to discuss something so crude.

"I'm not like my brother," he sneered.  "I have no desire to force myself on you…"

His eye darted to the side briefly.

"W-well, no intention, at least."

"Force?" you repeated, confused as you shook your head.  "Aemond, you're hardly making any sense…"

"I'm not making sense, am I?  Who are you to question me?  You act like a nice, obedient wife— you like to make them think of you that way, don't you?  But I let you live as you did before, as much as I can.  What more do you want, woman?!" he asked ragefully.

"I… want only for you to hold me," you admitted, voice breaking as you cried in earnest.  You felt like a child when he looked at you like this, even more so as you admitted your foolish desires.  "I want my husband to love me— I want him to touch and kiss me, and tell me that he can't live without me.  I want, even just for one day, to feel worthy of your love— fuck, just your attention!  Just your approval!"

He blinked at you, softening, and you almost jumped when his hand reached up to tenderly stroke the back of your arm.  "My wife…" he whispered, and your lips fell slack with a sigh.

He leaned in a bit closer then, reaching up to wipe a tear from the height of your cheek with his thumb.  In all the months you'd been married, in the weeks you courted, he'd never touched you so sweetly.

"I… I didn't want to hurt you," he promised, "or scare you.  I thought you—"

He lowered his voice again, shutting his eye, and you leaned in closer.

"I knew you couldn't love me," he whispered.  "You're so sweet and lovely— I'm scarred.  And you played the part well, but… I've seen that look before, when a lady is trying to be polite but is upset by the sight of me.  I understand."

You reached up to hold his face, biting your shaking lip.  “Aemond… I never— you’re beautiful.”

He turned away shyly, cheeks starting to tint in a way that only added to the beauty he was about to deny.  “I know you want to be a good wife, but your flattery is inconceivable.”

“I always thought you were handsome, my prince,” you promised, forcing him to look at you so he could see the earnestness in your eyes.  “And I don’t just want to be a good wife— I want to be your wife.”

"You always had my attention," he informed you.  "And you never lost my approval."

Overcome with joy, you threw yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.  Though he seemed a bit stunned by your forwardness at first, he returned your hug; you could've sobbed when he embraced you.  It was all you'd ever wanted, and it was so simple: just the touch of your husband— just the warmth and strength of him, wrapped around you.

Squeezing your shoulders gently, he sighed beside your ear.  “You don’t need to be so excited,” he mumbled.

“Of course I’m excited,” you beamed, holding him even tighter.  “I thought you— do you really care for me?”

“Yes,” he assured, and you pulled back to look at his face, just in case he was obviously lying or something.  But he seemed genuine— actually, he seemed surprised that you didn’t believe him already.

"I won't believe you until you kiss me," you decided.  Smiling, he leaned closer and took one more long look at your face before pressing his lips to yours.

It was sort of like how you'd imagined that it would be, at first.  But in a moment, it was better than you could've ever thought.

It was needy.  You loved it; your husband needed you.  His kiss was still delicate and precise, yes, but filled with heavy sighs and hesitant attempts to pull you closer and press his body to yours.  It was teeming with all that suppressed hunger, like he was fighting every instinct so he wouldn't overwhelm you.  If only he knew he could do whatever he liked to you; if only you could make him let go and show his true self.

“I care for you,” he whispered into the kiss, almost so quiet you didn’t hear it… but you did, and you had to cling to his shoulders with your knees going weak.  He pulled away to speak to you more clearly, as much as you hated being away from that kiss again.  “I care for you too much to subject you to my presence.”

“Do you care for me too much to consummate our marriage?” you asked, catching the way his eye widened slightly while his grip at your waist tightened.

“Avoiding you was easier than resisting you,” he explained quickly.  “It’s… difficult, even now, holding you like this, and not—”

“I want you to,” you admitted, nearly whining as you clutched at his shirt to pull him closer.  “Since our wedding night— well, even before then, I wanted—”

"Don't," he pleaded, voice thin as he looked away.  "I… I won't be able to hold myself back…"

"Take me, husband," you begged.  "I— I waited for you all my life.  I need to feel you, to please you—"

He snarled a bit as he shut you up with a bruising kiss, holding your back tightly.

You hummed into it, feeling heat flood your face (and between your legs) as he kissed you so… shamelessly.  Your grip on him loosened, only because all of you went a little limp from the way his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you pressed your hands flat against the leather in hopes you could feel the warmth of his chest through it.  Unfortunately, you couldn’t, so instead you found your hand slipping between two of the fasteners of his tunic, fingers brushing against the bare skin underneath.  He pulled away from your lips, but you couldn’t seem to find the strength to pull your hand from his chest— his warm, porcelain skin—

"Your eagerness is unladylike," Aemond noticed with a pleased smirk.

"I-I am sorry, but I can't help it," you whimpered.  "I've longed for you— I've dreamt of you—"

"Shh, I know," he smiled softly, petting your hair as you leaned into the gentle touch.  "I quite like this desperation on you, anyways.  Be careful not to let me enjoy it too much, or I'll make you wait another eight months."

"No, please," you breathed, "you could hold me every day and I'd be just as eager, my prince."

He sighed just by your ear, even something that simple making you shiver.  "I'll do more than that— I'll never let you go.  I'll hold you for the rest of our lives.  Then will you be satisfied?"

Crying softly, you nodded and hid your face against his shoulder, sighing at the relief being close to him brought you.

He reached up slowly to help you unfasten the clothing that covered his upper body; watching him undress was just divine, in your opinion— every nimble motion of his fingers exposed a longer sliver of his torso until he shirked the tunic away from his shoulders and revealed himself to you.  Biting your lip, you graced your fingers over his chest, admiring how strong he was and how delicate his ivory skin felt; if it weren’t for how shockingly warm he was to the touch, you’d believe he really was porcelain.

“Do you wish to see me too, husband?” you asked shyly, fishing for a little eagerness from him as well.  He hummed as he leaned in to kiss your neck, reaching behind your back to unlace your gown as you held onto his arms.

“I apologise for how many breakfasts I missed,” he replied, not seeming to be a related statement at all until he went on.  “Seeing you in your dressing gown was becoming too much to bear… all I could do was imagine how you must look without anything to cover you.”

You smiled proudly, though you couldn’t for very long when his tongue teasing along your pulse made you gasp shakily.  “U-uncover me then," you pleaded, as if he wasn't already shedding you of the layers of your dress, down to the thin linen chemise underneath.  You were told from an early age that your body was meant for your husband's eyes only, and aside from the occasional lady's maid who helped you dress, you'd covered yourself in modest wear in order to preserve your own dignity and keep your promise to your future husband.  Maybe some would protest to such a stricture, but it seemed sort of romantic to you.  And now that you were finally here, with Aemond's fingers delicately shedding you of your last layer of clothing, it was more intimidating than you expected— but in a good way, mostly.  Really you were just scared that he wouldn't like what he saw; even if he said he was affected by the sight of you in your nightgown, he knew nothing of what laid beneath.

Taking a shaky breath, you held your arms out just enough for him to slide the thin fabric down, and the garment pooled on the floor at your feet.  

For a moment, you couldn't find the courage to look up at Aemond, just blinking down at the ground beneath you.  But soon, when he said nothing still, you worriedly glanced up to examine the expression on his face.

Before then, you wouldn't have known how to describe what lust looked like.  Well, you still couldn't describe it, but you knew it when you saw it.  And this?  That darkness in those icy eyes, that tightness in his jaw and the subtle smirk on his lips?  That was it. 

You shivered as he ran his hands over you, a pleasant sort of chill that made you clench inside.  You opened your mouth, about to ask him if you were pleasing to him, but he spoke first.

"Lay on the bed, wife."

You were, obviously, already very obedient.  But you may have never been as instantaneous in your obliging as that moment.  You were on your back on Aemond's bed in an instant, and he was atop you just a second later, kissing you again and breathing in deeply as his bare chest pressed to yours.

His hands returned to exploring you as his kiss became more and more overpowering; he was so warm, almost hot, pressed against you and it was simply the most perfect feeling.  You found your legs spreading naturally without much thought put into it, and in the same way, his hand just seemed to move down between them of its own accord, gently rubbing over your mound as you whimpered from the feeling.

"Are you truly untouched?" he whispered against your lips.

"Of course," you answered, "how could I not be?  You never touched me…" 

He hummed softly.  "I longed to," he admitted, "I imagined it…"

He delicately parted your folds with two fingers, making you shudder as his touch carefully discovered every detail of you.  "I-is it like you imagined?" you wondered.

"Even more lovely," he replied.  "You're so warm here, my love— are you warmer inside?"

You gasped loudly as he slid those fingers inside you.  "Shh," he soothed.  "It's only to prepare you."

Only to prepare?  I feel as if I'm being torn apart already! you thought.

"Soon you'll be ready to take me inside you," he whispered.  That was plenty of motivation to get through the pain, and he hummed contentedly as you pulsed inside, more of your arousal leaking out and threatening to leave a puddle on his bed.

"Will… will you keep your trousers on?" you wondered, as you looked down at where the pale skin stopped and the black leather began.

He seemed amused.  "I know you're not naïve enough to think we can consummate this marriage with my trousers on."

"N-no!  I mean—" you choked.  "I meant that… I'm naked, and you haven't taken them off yet."

He raised an eyebrow, curling his fingers inside you and watching your face twist.  "Are you that curious, my darling?" he mocked, leaning down to speak closely beside your ear.  "Would you like to see my cock, is that it?"

Well, it seemed that the time for shame was well past… so, you bit your lip and nodded slightly, feeling his kiss the side of your face quickly.

"Soon," he promised.  "It's easier to keep my patience this way."

Patience?  After this long, his concern is patience?

Of course, you couldn't quite understand yet what Aemond was truly concerned with— but you would soon enough.

As much as it had stung to be entered by something for the first time, you were whining in disappointment when he pulled those fingers out of you— until he brought them to his lips and stared forward at you darkly while he sucked your flavour from them.

When he had licked every drop from his skin, he smiled at you and put those wet fingers by your hole again— wiggling and twisting them to fit three inside as your back arched.

"It's too much," you warned, grabbing his wrist.  "Three is too many!"

"You'll need to take much more than three fingers, my darling," he chuckled.  His free hand grabbed yours and guided it to his erection, firm and hot even though the leather, helping you rub him as he sighed.  Your eyes went wide as you felt it, and he smirked at you.  "Do you see now?  You'll need to be prepared."

"Oh— my husband, you— are you sure it will fit?"

"Yes."

It wasn't as convincing as you'd hoped it would be.  It felt so thick, and you were afraid your sense of touch was deceiving you with the length of it!  Sure, you had no true point of reference having never even seen a man naked before, but you understand the mechanics of all this to find a sense of fear bubbling up in your gut.  Would it hurt you?  Would it break you?

And why did that idea, as terrifying as it should be, excite you a little bit?

Pulling him down into another kiss, you found yourself weaving your fingers into his hair, and when he pushed his fingers deeper into you again you couldn’t help but tug on the silver-y strands unintentionally.  You started to apologise, before the little wince he let out turned into a low groan that made your walls bear down on his fingers yet again.  And that made him sigh as he leaned down to kiss your neck, even biting on you just hard enough to make a whine escape from your throat.

“I should give you more time,” he admitted, “prepare you further, but… my patience is wearing thin, dear wife.”

“You don’t need patience with me, husband,” you assured, surprised by your own voice’s wavering as he kept filling you with his long fingers.  “Just… say that you love me.”

He smirked a little, and the pridefulness in his face made you feel sort of foolish— but you sort of liked it.  “I don’t know you enough to say that,” he replied.

Well, that wasn’t exactly your fault, was it?  And he had three fingers to the knuckles inside you, he certainly knew you better than anyone else!  “You don’t have to mean it,” you mumbled, “just say it…”

His free hand, attached to the elbow that he balanced himself on beside your head, lightly pet the line of your jaw as you blinked up at him.  “Say that you love me first,” he decided.

“I love you,” you replied instantly, “of course— I love you more than anything.”

Smiling wider, he closed the space between you and kissed you softly.  Only when your eyes fell shut did he answer in a whisper below his breath, “and I love you as well.”  It seemed like it might be too much for him to say it with his eyes open.

He took his hand away from you and reached down; excitement jumped through you like a shock when you realised he was removing the rest of his clothes.  It made the kiss suddenly much more… thrilling, less precise and more desperate as you grabbed onto his shoulders and felt his bare body lay fully on top of yours.

His hands ran up the back of your legs, holding them open wide for him, and his cock pressed against your waiting cunt; it was warm, that was the only word you could think of for it, and you moaned into his mouth as he just barely rocked his hips to slide himself over your slick folds.

Right as he held himself tightly, hissing softly between his teeth, and guided his thick and leaking tip to your opening, a second wind of hesitance startled you.

"Wait!" you blurted out, pushing him away just slightly by his shoulder.  You could tell by the fear in his eye that he thought you were about to renege on the whole thing, admit that he was right from the start and you were too afraid of him to go through with any consummation.

Instead, you reached up to the brown leather patch on his eye, gently caressing it.

"Let me see my husband," you pleaded.  "I know you don't like to show me— but I want to see you as you are."

You'd only seen him without the covering for a brief moment, on accident; a few weeks into the marriage you entered his chambers without permission, finding him without his shirt or patch, and he covered his face quickly to scold you for your rudeness.  You were much too flushed by the sight of his bare chest— that toned, pale torso with scars of the softest pink in a few places— to mind his sapphire eye much or his frustrated rant.  He could yell at you all he wanted if he did so in any state of undress!  You thought he had the most beautiful body— seeing more of it today only proved your suspicions correct— and as he took off his eyepatch now, you smiled as you finally saw your husband's face.

A moment later, your smile fell into a gasp and a cry as he pushed himself into you.  Head falling back onto the down pillow, you whined through your teeth as his cock filled you, and you dug your nails into his shoulders with more strength than you thought you had.  "I'm hurting you," he noticed.  "I tried to prepare—"

But as he pulled back, you reached down and held onto his hip.  "No!" you whimpered.  "Don't… don't stop.  The pain will fade, yes?  I— I want this so much, Aemond…"

He sighed, leaning down to kiss away a stray tear from your temple.  "I know— and you've waited long enough, haven't you?  My poor wife… I never wanted you to be lonely.  I only wanted to protect you."

"From what?"

"This."

He put his hand over your mouth and shoved the rest of his cock inside you, muffling your scream as he groaned in satisfaction.  He was so deep, and it burned to be stretched for the first time; you sobbed but wrapped your legs around his waist and tried to keep him inside.  Still, he started to move, and you shuddered and wept as the pain seemed to bloom from your cunt and crawl up your back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I can't— I can't stop now, and you feel so warm…"

He looked at your face, twisted in pain, and stared at the hand over your mouth with and heavy gaze.

"I don't want them to hear you.  No one should hear my wife but me— in her pleasure or pain."

Even as you shivered from the way it hurt, your heart sang to hear him call you his wife, and to be possessive of you in some way.

"You feel so perfect," he grunted, starting to fuck into you faster already.  "It won't always hurt like this— just a little longer, I know you can take it for me, can't you?"

You nodded against the pressure of his hand over your face, hoping he wouldn't mind the way you pierced your nails into his skin to try to cope with the pain— you’d feel terrible if you left any marks on such a beautiful form as his, but then again, wouldn’t it be sort of erotic?  Little half-moons carved into his white skin as a memory in the flesh, a way to claim him in return as he claimed you?  

Yes, actually, it would be wonderful— and so you held onto him tighter, and he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

Each time his hips collided with yours, your whole body rocked under him and his grip on the sheets beside your head tightened until they threatened to tear.  His breaths were fast and sharp as he moved, a lovely flush on his cheeks and his eyes shut (the scarred one only as much as it could be) as he chased his own ecstasy.  Even though it still stung for a few moments longer, you loved looking up through your teary eyes as watching him, feeling impossibly proud knowing you were pleasing your husband this way.

He knew something had changed when your grip on his shoulders relaxed and you exhaled a long sigh from your nose that tickled his hand over your mouth (which he took away to admire your face in this moment).  "Is it beginning to feel better?" he asked.

"Yes," you whimpered.  "Yes, yes, yes—"

He laughed softly.  "I heard you the first time," he soothed, "but you may say it as much as you like.  Say my name as well, love— it never sounded as nice as it does from your lips…"

"Aemond," you breathed.

It spurred him on even more, deeper thrusts making your back arch and moans jump from your throat quickly.  "Such precious sounds you make," Aemond noticed proudly.  "Have you never felt this way before?"

You shook your head, and a snarl of twisted pride ghosted over his face.  "Never— it feels— oh!"

He had leaned down to capture one of your hardening nipples between his lips, gently flicking at it with the very tip of his tongue until you jolted under him.  You hadn't even known of such a thing before, you didn't realise how sensitive you were there or how beautiful Aemond would look with his mouth latched onto your breast.  He switched back and forth between them, smiling occasionally when your moans grew louder or you gasped out his name at the feeling.  A long whine slipped out when he kissed his way up from your nipple to the curve of your neck, moving his hips harder and faster as his bent arms kept him balanced and caged you in.  “Tell me again,” he demanded in a pant, “how much you like this.”

“It’s— you feel so—” you choked, really trying to answer him but losing focus each time he filled you to the brim and rubbed against that one place that made everything light up inside you.  Your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, and your toes curled, and you clung onto him as each thrust made your body— and mind— feel more and more beautifully helpless.  “It’s so… deep…”

He purred a little.

“It feels so good,” you finally decided to answer, knowing it wasn’t the most descriptive but not sure how else to put it.  “It feels amazing— you feel amazing… I don’t want it to ever end…”

His next sound was a hum of approval, and while it made you feel happy, you felt the urge to press for a more conclusive response.

“Does— does it feel— is it nice for you, too?” you panted out.  For all those attempts to ask that question, it still came out sort of needy and pathetic, but he found that amusing and smiled against your skin as he kissed beside your ear.

“Nice isn’t the word,” he admitted.  “There isn’t a word for how you feel, my darling.  The closest I can think of is perfect.”

You were just hoping for a small compliment; you didn’t expect him to so flippantly say something that romantic, even poetic.  

Just after you’d said you didn’t want it to end, he decided to stop and pull out of you.  The emptiness was jarring and disappointing; reaching out for him as he sat up, he smiled and gave your waiting hand a squeeze.  “Just a moment, my love.”

He sat up enough to lift your legs from around his hips, and hold them up as he pushed them against your upper body.  Just when you wanted to warn him that you may not be as flexible as he expected, he slipped his cock inside you again— and when you’d remarked before about how deep he was, you had no idea how this would feel.

Your whole body tightened up and your face twisted in a gasp.  “Is it too much for you?” he asked softly, the concern in his voice making your heart swell.  

“No, please— keep going,” you insisted, though your back had to arch when he slid the rest of the way inside and you swore the head of his cock was going to go into your stomach or something.  But it didn’t— it only stretched you to your absolute limits, a new sensation that wasn’t quite sharp enough to be pain but more powerful than you’d ever known pleasure to be.  You whimpered, but braced yourself, ready to give him anything he needed.

"My sweet wife, so devoted," he groaned as he pushed his hips as hard as he could into you, holding you steady to force his cock just that last little bit deeper inside until your eyes rolled back.  "You wanted so much to fulfil your marital duty— and look at you, taking it perfectly, even better than I imagined."

"You… you imagined this?"

Aemond laughed, heartily, at your question.  "Only every night," he replied quickly, "with my hand around my cock, wanting to call for you but barely resisting each time."

You would've been ecstatic if your husband had called for you in the middle of the night to soothe his aching need; even if he sent you away right after he was finished and went back to ignoring you, it would've made you feel like less of a complete failure of a wife.  

"I imagined more than this, though," he admitted.  "I imagined kissing you and tasting you and hearing you say how dearly you love me…"

That explained why he’d asked you to say it before.  You’d say it a thousand times if he asked— or, probably, even if he didn’t.

"I imagined you pregnant."

To say your heart skipped a beat was an understatement.  Your heart skipped so many beats that you might have been technically dead for a couple seconds— except that you felt more alive than ever.  There were a thousand things you’d like to say, but rendered totally speechless, all you could do was pant out his name weakly.

"We don't need to make any heirs," he reminded you.  "But I could give you a child, if you want one."

Your heart had never been so filled before— finally, your husband's child, inside you: it could really happen.  You'd longed to give him one (or many) since you met him and now… now you could finally bear him one.  "Yes," you whimpered, "Aemond— a baby, I want one so desperately…"

But then again, you'd wanted a baby so you wouldn't be so alone— someone to keep you company.  And now he was here, finally, and you didn't need to be alone anymore.

"I want us to— to be a family," you choked out, and you felt his smile against the side of your face.  

"We are," he whispered.  "Already, we are.  Husband and wife.  But, you would look divine carrying a son…"

You hummed contentedly at the praise, feeling his hand rub gently on your belly right where it would swell the most.

"Perhaps I will, then," he decided.  "Bless you with a child… if you'd like that."

He was taunting you, tricking you into begging him for it— and you didn't mind at all, happy to oblige.  "Yes!  Please, my husband, my prince— I long for it, let me have your son, please… if you give me your seed, I promise, I'll do all I can—"

"Shh," he soothed softly, "I know you will.  I know— such a good wife you are, a perfect wife…"

You felt warm tears run down your temples, all this devotion to him finally appreciated when you feared it would all go to waste.  Clinging tighter onto him, you tried to hide your face in the curve of his neck.  But he gently pried you away, cooing, "No, no— let me see you, let your husband gaze on you— oh, what a sweet face.  Shall I kiss your tears away?  All will be right, my love… you'll have our son.  And what a lovely mother you'll make."

Maybe it was a strange thing to push you right up to the edge— but you’d been approaching it for a while, that was just the moment you realised how close you really were.  The way he said it, you could somehow tell he’d thought for a while that you’d make a good mother for his children; maybe he thought that from the start, he must have if he agreed to marry you.  And at the same time that it filled your chest with pride, it made your gut burn with a need for something you couldn’t quite define but that you knew was incredibly close.

Apparently, he was in a similar situation, though much more aware of what it really was than you were.  “It won’t be much longer,” he promised.  “If you ask me, I will— are you sure it’s what you want?”

"Please, my prince," you whimpered as you held on tightly to the sheets.  "Please!  Give me your seed, please—"

"Fuck," he groaned, "once more—"

"Fill me, Aemond, with your child— I'll do anything, I want it so much, I want to be pregnant—"

"My name," he hissed, shutting his eyes tightly as his thrusts became erratically fast.  "Say my name again."

"Aemond," you whimpered, losing yourself in pleasure just as his name crossed your lips.  "Aemond, my husband, my beloved— yours, m'yours, only you, Aemond—"

It was a feeling so powerful that it felt like you separated from reality for a brief moment— like you were floating in water except less wet and more… hot, more all-encompassing, more pure sensation that filled you from head to toe— and then seemed to rob you of all your remaining strength at once.  As you went limp, he whined loudly and his movements faltered.  It took you a moment to realise it was finally time: you were finally being filled by your husband.  He groaned softly as he panted, silver hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his face.

He looked absolutely beautiful, even more than usual.  And he finally blinked his eyes open and looked at you like he'd never seen anything so perfect.

His thumb gently wiped away a tear from your temple.  "Lovely wife," he praised under his breath.  "I can't wait to see you with child.  I hate how long I waited… if I had taken you as I should have on our wedding night, our son would be almost here now…"

You pulled him down onto you for a tight hug.  "None of that matters now," you whispered to him sweetly.  "Just hold me, my husband— you said you'd never let me go."

He smiled as he sighed, melting into your arms and wrapping you up in his own.  "Yes, my lady," he agreed as he tenderly kissed the side of your face.

~

He looked up at you when you entered the room, and even just the slight smile on his face made you fill with joy; for someone as stoic as Aemond, you knew it was a sign of incredible affection to be smiled at that way.  “Good morn, my lady,” he greeted, standing from his seat at the breakfast table.

“I worried when I awoke without you,” you admitted, clutching shyly at your nightgown.

“I figured you would be used to it by now,” he smirked.  “Have I spoiled you with affection already?”

Chewing your lip, you glanced away.  “I thought— you said you’d never let me go.”

“Well, I wasn’t hungry when I said that,” he replied, chuckling.  “I awoke earlier and was afraid to disturb you… you seemed in need of your rest.”

You seemed worn out from all the fucking, he really meant, but he was still trying to be polite.

“Aren’t you going to sit with me and dine, my love?” he prompted, nodding towards the chair nearest to him— not even across the table, where you used to sit.  Feeling like you’d received some sort of promotion to sit so close, you happily bounced up to the table and a servant stepped forward to pull the chair out for you.  “Actually—”

You and the servant both stopped, and you worried you were about to get kicked back to the end of the table; instead, he sat back in his chair and motioned for you to step closer.  Normally, Aemond wouldn’t sit again until any lady in the room was seated (he was mindful of custom, always), but as you came closer, he patted his knee, and you felt your face warm up.  

“You could sit with me,” he suggested, and you tried not to show how ecstatic you were as you perched yourself in his lap.  He looked up at you with his uncovered eye, smiling, and draped his arm around your waist.  It felt, honestly, a little bizarre to have him be this affection, even if he’d shown you love in the most literal way just last night… you were still getting used to it.  And this felt very different, though it made you quite happy.  “Would you like a grape?” he offered, gesturing to his plate.

“I was upset before that I felt I didn’t know my husband very well,” you recalled, totally ignoring his innocuous question, “and now I think I knew even less than I thought.”

He tilted his head.  “How do you mean?”

“You’re so… romantic!” you blurted out, and he laughed.

“I don’t know about that,” he denied.  “But I am rather taken with you.  And I must say…”

His voice lowered, as did his gaze, while his hand traced down your back delicately through your clothes.

“...I’m still just as affected by seeing you in your dressing gown,” he finished softly.

“I-I—” you stammered, making him smile amusedly at you.  “I’m still just as amazed at how forward you can be, my prince… and to think I thought of you as shy once.”

He raised an eyebrow at you.  “I am shy,” he assured.  “I’ll even dismiss the servants before I fuck you on this table.”

You raised your hand to your mouth to cover it, hoping to suppress your shocked giggle, but he grabbed it and held it tightly as he pulled you even closer, until you thought he might kiss you.  He didn’t, yet: he only looked at your face very carefully.  You looked back at him, of course, and found yourself reaching up to stroke his cheek as you admired his sharp, harsh sort of beauty.  “You… you really plan to take me again, husband?  Now?”

He smiled wide, maybe wider than you’d ever seen.  “I was going to let you have breakfast first,” he clarified.  “Unless ‘now’ is your preference.”

You looked away, smiling to yourself.  “I’ve heard eagerness is unladylike,” you dodged his obvious attempt to make you out to be the needy one.  Which wasn’t exactly false, but not fair either: you knew he wanted you just as badly, and finally knowing that gave you a little confidence to toy with him instead.

“Maybe you aren’t the finest lady, then,” he accused, which almost hurt before he continued, “but you are the most perfect wife any man has ever had, or wished to have.”

And, in an objective sense, Aemond hadn’t been much of a husband.  Last night notwithstanding, he was all but cruel to you— and though he’d finally allowed himself to give in to desire for you, it was not as if his entire personality would change, he was still… whoever he was, an enigma with white hair and an eyepatch.

But he was perfect to you, and you loved him with everything you had.

~

You knew Aemond hated these sorts of things, but you loved them.  He hated the loud guests, the small talk, the awkward customs— but those were the things you liked the most, they seemed to bring life to the empty old castle.

It wouldn’t be as empty soon, though; that was the purpose of this banquet, to announce and celebrate your impending addition to the family.  And as much as Aemond generally disliked social engagements, he was obviously glowing with pride as he showed off his pregnant lady wife to the court.  Now that you saw it on him, you thought maybe that was what he meant when he said you were glowing… but you weren’t sure, because whenever he said it you just figured it was sweat from having to carry around his massively heavy child all the time.

Not that you minded!  You loved it, and he doted on you more than ever, kissing your belly and coming up with all kinds of plans for his son— and he was still sure it was a son, with no proof at all, but you weren’t even going to try to convince him otherwise.

“A toast,” Aemond instructed his guests, who raised their goblets in turn with him, “to my son, Vaegon—”

The guests started to lower their cups, but he wasn’t finished.

“— and his mother, my darling lady wife.”

You beamed as he squeezed your shoulder.  Yes, it was no wonder you loved banquets now that you had the most adoring husband by your side for the night.

hi love, just wanted you to know that your "rocking the boat" fic is literally what's keeping tom's nation alive rn, some of my followers on tiktok confirmed this. we need you to write more if you're okay with it and you want to, please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 I'm literally begging you, whatever you want I'm sure you'll come up with smth good, we're desperate...

omg thank you so much🥺💕💕💕, the idea that i'm keeping something alive is stressful lmao, like remembering to water a plant (which i'm awful at). But I appreciate it nonetheless! More people need to write about Tom for real, he's a precious little menace

I'm sure I'll write more for him eventually, it's just a matter of coming up with something and finding the motivation to actually write it out lmao

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 - Tom Bennett

Oh boy, this one's...a lot lmao. My first fic of the year and probably the only one for awhile. I was so stoked to write it so hopefully anyone who reads this is stoked about it too. This took so long, especially cause I have a super tedious boring class this semester, hence why I'm not writing as much as I used to. But here it is, primed and ready for ya. Enjoy!

Summary: You and Tom work at the same FBI agency, the both of you having a tense rivalry. Sprinkle a little friends-with-benefits relationship on top of that while going on an undercover mission where you must get along to get the job done, what could go wrong?

Warnings: modern!special agent!Tom Bennet, undercover mission (haha the title, get it, okay..), enemies (?) to lovers/rivals to lovers, more like FWB to lovers, Tom's kind of a dick (so is reader) but like to protect himself (and some misogyny, also to protect himself), smoking, tw guns (violence and injury), slight whump, oo boy this one's gotta lot of gratuitous SMUT (MINORS DNI), dubcon-ish, fingering, forced exhibitionism, public sex (kinda)...on a plane, oral (m and f!receiving), ANGST and feels, teasing, jealousy, possessiveness, kinda toxic relationship, confessions, eventual fluff, light dom/sub vibes, orgasm denial and control, slight praise kink and degradation, conveniences will convenience (all I know about undercover missions is what I watched on White Chicks okay, so don't expect some well thought out plans)

word count | 10.8k (oops)🤙🏻

You weren’t planning on signing up for a high risk mission when you went into your agency’s meeting this morning, but something overtook you when you learned Tom would be going on this mission as well.

You never planned to care about him ever since the two of you got involved. You were just coworkers with a little something on the side, nothing serious. In fact, the two of you hated each other ever since you started working with him. You both always took every chance to one up each other, trying to clamber over one another to get higher rankings in your profession, never hesitant to step on each other’s toes to succeed.

The two of you only started hooking up almost a year ago. You were both drunk, celebrating another hard won mission and it just happened. You both were lonely, your profession not always making it easy to trust someone who’s not yourself. It was purely transactional. But then Tom started being more vulnerable with you, making you laugh and happier than you had been before you met him. It made your head spin. You thought about calling it off immediately, but the sex was just so good, his company even more, and you did actually start to care for the man. 

Though, it made your rivalry at work dial the intensity up to eleven, taking out your frustrations on each other when the sun went down. But the look Tom was giving you after you had volunteered to your director, you had a feeling your benefits relationship might end sooner than you’d like.

After the meeting ended, you walked out with the onslaught of other agents that were desperate to beat the five o'clock traffic to get home. But you were yanked back by Tom, him grabbing your arm and forcing you to trail behind your other coworkers. “Take it back.” He seethed.

“What?” You bit back, your brows furrowing and instinctively trying to pull back from him.

“What? You know what. Tell our director you changed your mind.”

You scoffed, ripping your arm out of his bruising grip. “No, fuck you.”

“You did this to annoy me, I get it. Good job, you fucking succeeded, now take it back. This is my mission. I don’t need you getting in my way.”

“I’m just as good of an agent as you, dickhead. If anything, you’d be in my way. Now stop complaining, cause I’m not gonna change my mind. So, are we done now? Or are you going to continue whining like a little pussy?”

Tom only growled in response as he stormed off, throwing a tantrum like he often did when he didn’t get his way. It didn’t deter you. This mission would do wonders for your career, it would surely boost your rank to a higher level. No amount of whining from anyone was going to make you miss that opportunity.

Suffice to say, Tom didn’t show up for his nightly visit at your apartment. It was probably for the best, he’d just spend the entire time trying to make you quit the mission. But you were too determined, and you weren’t one to chicken out. You needed to prove to yourself that you could take on a mission such as this.

When you came into work the next morning for the debriefing, Tom was standing up against his car smoking a cigarette, clearly waiting for you. You only scoffed and walked past him, but he didn’t take too kindly to that. “Have you changed your mind yet?” He asked as he stood in front of you to block your path, blowing smoke in your face because he knew how much that annoyed you.

“Like I said yesterday, Bennett: I’m not changing my fucking mind.” 

This time when you tried to walk past him, he let you. You could hear him angrily stomping out his cigarette with the sole of his shoe before he sped up to walk beside you into the agency building.

You, Tom, and your handler all lined up in front of your director to go over what the mission would entail. It was intense, the most difficult mission you would probably ever have. You were tasked with helping catch a crime boss. The man would be at a hotel on an island resort in the middle of the Caribbean. Your agency’s sources say that he’s planning on making a big deal in order to gain a new ally. Guns, ammunition, drugs, so many things you both would need to be on the lookout for. It was intimidating to be sure, but not enough to scare you away like you knew Tom was hoping for. No, you wouldn’t give in that easily. You were up for the task. You wanted to do anything you could to put away such an evil man.

But clearly, Tom didn’t notice the pure determination on your face as you walked out of the debriefing. “How ‘bout now?”

“Nope. Stop asking. I’ll keep telling you the same thing again and again.”

“This isn’t some low risk mission, L/n. We’re not trying to catch a fuckin’ lowlife predator here. This is a crime boss. An extremely dangerous man that can have us killed with one word if he even suspects what we’re doing there. Don’t you get that?” Tom whisper shouted, trying not to draw attention to himself despite the outburst, poking into your collarbone roughly.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

“Stupider.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know what I’m getting myself into, Bennett. I wouldn’t have signed up otherwise.” Honestly, it wasn’t the danger of getting killed that made you nervous about this mission, it was the fact that you and Tom would have to pretend to be newlyweds on your honeymoon. A perfect cover for where you two were going. It almost made you laugh.

All your time preparing to travel to this island, Tom would barely talk to you, only glaring at you and giving you one word responses or hums whenever you’d try to talk to him. If he wanted to be petty, fine. You could be petty too, not in front of your boss though, unfortunately. You were sure if your boss knew what you and Tom got up to outside of office hours, he would not be sending you on this mission with him. Although it was well known how you and Tom rivaled with each other throughout the workplace, you had to be somewhat professional, up until you were alone with him of course. You had no idea how you’d be able to share a bedroom with him without resorting to killing each other…or refrain from hate fucking each other. Even the morning plane ride over would be difficult, especially with the way Tom kept looking at you.

“Ya know, it wouldn’t be too late to back out. No one would judge you.” Tom spoke up as you both were waiting to board your flight.

You just kept your mouth shut tightly, just so not in the mood to argue with the man at such an early hour, especially since you weren’t able to have caffeine. You prayed you could just sleep all during the flight without arguing or crying babies. There weren’t babies on the plane, but Tom didn’t seem to notice your purposeful ‘don’t talk to me’ bitch face. Either that, or he just didn’t care.

“I still don’t think you’re ready for this.”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Bennett? No, I didn’t, so shut the fuck up.”

Tom only smirked, smug that he managed to get under your skin once again. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He whispered, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat.

“Oh, the feeling is mutual.” 

The animosity didn’t end there like you hoped it would, instead Tom took it upon himself to try to embarrass you as much as possible. You gave him a stern look as you started to feel his hand reach underneath your thin blanket to trail up your thigh. “Do not.” You scowled, trying to push his hand away but ultimately failing. He was too strong.

You inhaled sharply as he cupped your center roughly, wincing before glaring at him. Your glare faltered as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You think you can talk to me that way?” He teased gruffly, forcing his hand in your sweatpants and underwear, a surprisingly soft smile pulling at his lips as he felt the slick that was pooling at your entrance. “Whore.”

You gripped onto his forearm tightly as he toyed with your clit, purposely digging your nails into his skin to try to get him to stop, but all he did was wince and pinch you, causing you to gasp. You quickly put your hand over your mouth and subtly looked around to see if anyone noticed, but everyone seemed to be sleeping or occupied with something else. Truthfully, no one was even thinking of glancing in your direction, but you were so paranoid that you’d be caught. “I don’t want to get an indecent exposure fine, Bennett.” You snarled, trying to come off as angry as you were, but Tom’s fingers had already tamed you into a state of submission as they had done so many times before. It wasn’t any less irritating, but god, he was good with his hands.

You flinched in your seat as Tom pushed two of his fingers inside you right off the bat, your eyes briefly rolling to the back of your skull, trying not to moan by taking slow deep breaths. You were suddenly very thankful that you spent so many of your younger years trying to keep as quiet as possible while masturbating so as to not alert any potential family members in the same house of what you got up to in the privacy of your own room, but this felt way more difficult.

You whimpered into your palm as Tom’s dexterous fingers curled against that sensitive spot along the front of your walls, biting into your own skin to keep your whines in your throat, your brows furrowing obviously to anyone that might pay attention. “Fuck.” You cried softly, looking up at Tom with pleading eyes as your chest heaved against your now suffocating t-shirt. “I can’t.”

“You can, darling.”

To make matters worse, the seatbelt sign turned off. 

People around you started to rise up out of their seats to get stuff out of their carry-ons or go to the bathroom, and the flight attendants started to make their rounds to give the passengers their stupid complimentary peanuts. And of course, a flight attendant peaked around your row with a smile right as you felt your climax grow rapidly. You bit the inside of your lip hard, feeling the metallic taste of blood coat your tongue.

“Hello there, we’re handing out some crisps, pretzels, and candy if you’d like any.” The lady asked you politely, hopefully completely unaware of what was going on beneath your blanket. You quickly shook your head, a pained hum escaping your lips as Tom focused his efforts on your clit. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Just a stomachache.” You lied, the wavering timbre in your voice bringing a sympathetic frown to the flight attendant’s face.

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I can bring you a Sierra Mist, if you’d like?”

Jesus Christ, lady, just fucking go away. “No, thank you. Really, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat a bit too loudly to cover up an oncoming moan, your face flushing with heat as a couple people from other rows looked over at you curiously.

“Okay. And how about you?” The lady directed her attention to Tom, who did not even attempt to hide his smug smirk. “Would you like any snacks, sir?”

“No, thanks, miss. I brought my own.” Cheeky bastard.

“Okay, well, we’re almost to our destination. So, make sure all your belongings are overhead before we land.” And with that, the flight attendant finally left you to continue suffering.

“I’m going to kill you.” You hissed, slapping Tom’s shoulder as you allowed your head to lean back against the chair as you felt the first pangs of euphoria wash over you. You grit your teeth and leaned forward to cover your face with your hands, hiding your orgasm face from Tom and the rest of the plane. You took shuddering breaths as you rode out your high, tapping his arm aggressively when pleasure veered into oversensitivity.

You felt your ears pop as the plane lowered closer to the ground. You didn’t even realize the pilot had spoken before you felt the plane bank to the right, unintentionally forcing you to lean closer to Tom, whose face you couldn’t even stand to look at. He pulled his hand away from you, making you look at the mess you made on his fingers. You looked away in fury as he started to suck on his fingers, quietly moaning at the taste of you. You could hear his chuckles as you refused to watch him mock you.

“Hope you had a good flight!” The same flight attendant lady chirped as you and Tom exited the plane.

Fuck you, you so badly wanted to say, but Tom didn’t allow that. As if he could sense your hostility (that he caused) and unwillingness to imitate niceties, he quickly uttered out a polite thanks before guiding you off the plane like you were a child who couldn’t take care of themselves.

Man, this was going to be a long, miserable “vacation.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed with the honeymoon suite you’d be staying in. Though, checking in was a nightmare. You never thought pretending to be all coupley and in love was part of the job description. Alas, you walked into the lobby with Tom’s arm around your shoulder and the two of you wearing the most genuine fake smiles you could muster. One plus was you had already spotted one of the crime boss’ henchmen. 

“Are you sure?” Tom had asked.

Of course you were sure. You had studied every picture of every face the agency presented you with, down to the freckles and moles they may have had. You weren’t going to fuck this up, you’d never live it down; Tom would make sure of it.

You both informed your handler that you made it safely to the resort, already finding evidence that the crime boss was indeed there too. You just had to lay low, look out, and not get caught. This is what you lived for, it was so exhilarating and you wouldn’t let Tom ruin this for you.

“We should head down to the pool, see if we can spot another guy.” You voiced, pulling out your bathing suit from your suitcase, but Tom stopped you by placing a hand on yours. “What, Bennett? We can’t waste time on this.”

“You still haven’t paid me back for what I did for you on the plane.” He spoke with a dark lust in his eyes, his pupils almost completely swallowing his bright blue iris’. 

You rolled yours. “I didn’t ask for that, if you recall.” You said with a scoff and moved to get changed, but he didn’t let you go, instead forcing you to your knees where you found his already hardened cock trying to burst through his tight shorts. You silently cursed to yourself as you already found yourself throbbing at the sight of him looking down at you hungrily.

“Well? My cock ain’t gonna suck itself.”

You resisted the urge to smile, lifting your hand to gently palm his cock through his shorts before tugging them down, your mouth watering as it bobbed up at you. Tom hummed as you licked a stripe up the underside of his dick, even the slightest of approval making you whine as you squeezed your thighs together. 

“Uh, uh.” Tom rebuked, lifting you up from the floor to make you sit at the edge of the king sized bed, forcing your legs apart and standing in between them. “None of that. No pleasure for you. Just be a good little whore and suck me off.” He threaded his fingers into your hair, curling his hand into a fist to tug at your roots, pushing you forward until your lips hit the tip of his cock. On instinct, you wrapped your lips around him and sucked hard, earning a guttural groan from him. “That’s it.” He didn’t hesitate to buck into you, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag just to tease you. He kept doing that until tears were streaming down your face, causing him to smirk. “So pretty.” He whispered, wiping a tear away with his thumb, but continuing to fuck your mouth with little care how you felt.

Meanwhile, you didn’t know if you were crying because his cock kept making you gag or because you had absolutely zero stimulation to your clit. It was throbbing painfully, and Tom still kept your legs apart. Was this still punishment for talking back to him on the plane? He was one of the most pettiest men you had ever known, so you wouldn’t put it past him. But not allowing you to pleasure yourself felt like a new low, even for him.

Your hands gripped onto his thighs, squeezing them whenever you needed a break, him pulling away briefly to let you breathe before slamming back into you again. But he was close, you could tell. The way his moans got louder and breathier, and his hold on you tightened to the point you were almost afraid he’d rip the hairs out of your head. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” He announced with a groan, stilling in your mouth as his release shot down the back of your throat. 

Tom slowly loosened his hold on you as he tried to catch his breath, petting and soothing the spot on your head where he gripped the hardest. “Okay…” He spoke with a stutter. “Yeah, let me clean up and I’ll meet you at the pool in a few minutes.” And with that, he left you sitting on the bed while he locked himself in the bathroom.

Well, that was a little odd, you thought. But you didn’t think about it any further. You quickly got changed and headed down to the pool, hoping a short dip would rid you of the overwhelming heat you felt in your body from not being able to do anything about your arousing situation. No matter, if Tom wasn’t going to help you out then you’d just get yourself off in the shower that night. You had bigger issues to deal with at the moment.

Scanning over the crowd at the extravagant looking pool, you couldn’t seem to spy any persons out of the ordinary. Just a bunch of families and couples and the occasional old rich woman. Feeling a bit disheartened, you sat down on a poolside chair with a quiet huff, throwing your towel over the backrest and laying out, the sun quickly warming your skin. It felt nice, but it would feel even nicer if you knew you weren’t on the clock.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Tom’s voice jolted you out of your sunbathing intermission, now sporting his own pair of swimming trunks and tank top, any sign of being flustered from your previous tryst was completely gone. Only now, you could tell he was flustered for a different reason.

It probably wasn’t necessary, but you had bought a bit of a slutty bathing suit for this occasion. You figured if on the off chance you had to seduce a criminal, it would be best to do it in an outfit that showed off all your…assets. It definitely seemed to be working on Tom. Maybe it could work on someone else. “My super special undercover swimsuit. What about you, Mr. Palm Trees?” You teased, eyeing his obnoxious colored print on his shorts.

“It’s called looking the part, wife. We’re on our honeymoon, not a dating show.” And with that, Tom lifted his tank up and off himself, the sight of his toned torso making heat flood to the apex of your thighs. He smirked when he caught you staring. “Think you’re drooling a bit, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” You chided, but it only made Tom chuckle. You huffed in defeat, returning to your previous position of subtly checking out the tenants around the pool.

“We should go in.” Tom gestured to the pool, but before you could refuse, “We have to look believable, remember? Who goes to a pool and doesn’t get in the water?”

You couldn’t hide your clenched jaw as you rose from your seat, standing at the edge of the concrete ground and delicately dipping your toes in the chlorine loaded water to check the temperature. It wasn’t too cold, but you’d definitely wanted to slowly ease your way in. Unfortunately, Tom didn’t give you much of a choice, promptly pushing you off the edge. Your body tensed up as the cool water enveloped you, goosebumps rising all over your body as you quickly came up for air, gasping loudly. You wore a deep scowl on your face as Tom’s boisterous laughter polluted the area, able to hear it even when you were submerged. “Arsehole.” You spat, splashing water up at him aggressively.

“So, you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing to me if you had the chance?” He raised a brow, his crooked smile on display, the sight making unwanted flutters swirl in your stomach.

“Touché.” You grumbled. “Still a dick move.” Tom didn’t waste anymore time on land, crouching and leaping into the water, careful not to let the water go above his head. He swam over to you with a mischievous look on his face, and to you, that only meant one thing. “Don’t come anywhere near me.” You warned.

“Oh, come on, Mrs. Bennett. I don’t bite.” He teased, taking your unamused expression as a sign to grab your hips and pull you onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you up by your bottom effortlessly thanks to the water. You had no choice but to let him, not willing to risk your cover. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders reluctantly, trying your best to wear a loving smile on your face. But you soon faltered as Tom leaned in close, his lips right next to your ear. “I know this isn’t what you wanted when signing up for this mission, but you have to at least tolerate it. Behind closed doors when no one is around, you can bitch and whine all you like; but in public, you have to be in love with me.” He pulled away to look into your eyes seriously. “Understand, wife?”

You swallowed your pride and smirked seductively. “I understand, dear husband.” You took advantage of his slight surprise and captured his lips in a searing kiss, the cold feeling of the water not comparing to how heated this kiss felt. Tongue and teeth clashed with each other as you retaliated in the only way you could at that moment, biting his bottom lip hard before pulling away with a sickeningly sweet smile. Tom’s eyes darkened as he gripped your hips tighter, causing you to wince. He looked as though he was going to lean back in for another kiss, but you spotted someone, in the corner of your eye. You hugged Tom, using the position to whisper in his ear just as he’d done to you. “Another henchman.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s a bulge at the base of his spine, covered by his shirt and jacket.”

“Who wears a jacket at a pool?”

“Exactly. 9 mm is my guess.”

“That’s a lazy guess. Wanna bet? .38.”

“Wow. Guess there’s only one way to find out.” 

“Wait-”

You quickly interrupted him by pushing his head below the water’s surface, ruining his perfectly styled up hair. He came up with a scowl, ready to scold you, but before you could allow him to, you pushed him off and you got out of the pool. Drying yourself off and giving a wink to a now distressed Tom, you made your way to one of the bars that served the hotel guests.

You were a decent actor, but you had no idea if it would be convincing enough to fool the henchman of an intelligent criminal; you had to try, if you wanted to get information early on. The smallest piece of info may help. 

With your margarita in hand, you played oblivious to the figure in your path, knocking into him and hearing the glass shatter on the pavement. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, sir!” You exclaimed, pulling an embarrassed face and getting on your knees to start cleaning up your mess. You hide your smirk as the man quickly stopped you, apologizing for being in your way. You could tell the way his eyes bulged and ran over your body that you made the right decision picking a skimpy bathing suit. Hook, line, and sinker.

“You should watch where you’re going.” The man, who introduced himself as James, said with a smirk, his tone holding no semblance of anger or irritation. “I’m sorry about your drink, maybe you’ll let me buy you another one?” Wow, bold. It made you feel like bile was going to come up your throat any moment, but you plastered on your best fake smile.

“I’d love that. You’re so sweet.” You giggled, “subtly” running your hand down his arm, his eyes piquing with interest.

“I’ve been told that before, yes.” He gently guided you over to the bar, lifting his arm so that it slightly touched your upper back, his jacket lifting just enough for you to be able to see the pistol sticking out of his pants. 

.38. Damn.

Your little acting display got you this far, you supposed you might as well take it up a notch. This man didn’t know how many drinks you’ve already had. Maybe that ruined margarita was your fourth or fifth one of the day. Hell, you were on vacation. So, you decided to be a little drunk as you sipped on your new drink, graciously paid for by a dangerous criminal. “You don’t look like you’re here on vacation, no offense.” You slightly slurred. “I mean, who wears a business suit at a resort?”

James laughed, albeit a bit nervously, but answered you anyway. “I’m not here on vacation unfortunately. This is, ultimately, a bit of a business trip.”

“Meeting with some rich CEOs?”

“Something like that.”

You grinned. “Oh, a mysterious man. I like that.” 

“And why are you here, hm?”

You wore a tired expression, lifting up your left hand to show off the fake wedding ring on your finger. “Honeymoon.”

“You don’t seem to be happy about that.”

You shrugged, taking more sips of your drink, the low levels of alcohol being barely enough to give you that liquid courage you could’ve probably used. “He’s a drag. Boring.”

“Let me guess…he has money.” You gave him a knowing smile.

“Don’t judge. A woman has needs.”

“Oh, I’m sure she does.” He inched closer to you. “But I’m sure he doesn’t satisfy all your needs.” The urge to throw up came back. The idea of being with someone other than Tom made you ill. But you had a job to do, no matter what it takes.

You took every opportunity you could to snoop around that man’s room. He must’ve been one of the dumb ones, you could spot his gun briefcase peeking out from underneath his bed. A rookie hiding spot. You got lucky, really lucky. So lucky that he fell asleep pretty quickly after the fact. Prime snooping time.

Every second that passed, the hammering in your heart grew faster. You rummaged through desk drawers, bags, cabinets, closets; the only thing you found as evidence was a post it note briefly detailing the time and place the meeting with the crime boss would take place. How amazing just a simple little note could have so much power. 

You let yourself smile as you quietly escaped the James’ hotel room, making your way to the elevator and pushing the button to your floor. You could finally take a sigh of relief, the nerves slowly but surely exiting your body; that is, until the elevator doors opened to reveal Tom standing there waiting for you, his body leaned up against the wall opposite of the elevator.

“Had fun?” He snarled with contempt, his lips curled into a malicious sneer, his eyes dark. You rolled your eyes, way too exhausted to deal with his hot and cold nature. You walked out of the lift and tried to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your upper arm tightly, forcing you to him. “Are you forgetting that we’re supposed to be a couple on their honeymoon?” Tom seethed, loosening his grip on you when he saw the slightly pained look on your face.

“No. I just saw an opportunity to get some intel, which we need if you’ve forgotten.” You snapped back, tugging back to get completely out of his grip. 

“You could’ve done that without fucking the enemy. Jesus, I can smell it on you.” He frowned in disgust.

“It wasn’t even good, if it makes you feel any better. You jealous, Bennett?”

Tom surprised you when he said nothing. No reply, no witty comeback. His frown only deepened as he walked back to your hotel room, not looking back to see if you followed or not. You were almost afraid to, as if you hadn’t just risked your life mere minutes ago. You had nowhere else to go, so you followed, silently watching as he slid the key in and unlocking the door. You both still said nothing as you walked further into the room, taking off your shoes and sitting down on a chair adjacent to the bed.

“I found out where the meeting is going to be, and when.” You spoke up timidly, gaining Tom’s attention, his gaze on you heating up your face.

“You found that out back there?”

“Yep, so you can’t tell me it didn’t pay off.”

He nodded curtly. “Right. Well, I’ll contact our handler and we’ll pass on that information.”

It wasn’t like Tom to be so…compliant. He always had something to say, even when the situation didn’t call for it. You figured he just loved the sound of his own voice for a while. But now he was quiet, stoic, he barely even pitched in when you were talking to the handler about what you found. Was he really that upset that you got info before he did? How petty of him, at least that didn’t change.

“It was a .38, by the way.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “What?”

“That man’s gun. You were right.” He only let out a hum of acknowledgment. “What? You’re not gonna brag like you normally do when you win a bet?”

He shrugged. “We have a long weekend ahead of us. I’m not gonna waste my energy on stupid bets.” He snapped, walking out to the balcony to smoke a cigarette. You huffed in irritation, flopping down against the bed, watching the slow whirl of the ceiling fan.

Tom still was out smoking as you were getting ready for bed, showering and changing into your pajamas with a frown on your face. You quickly got tired of the silent treatment, joining him out on the balcony that seemed to look over the whole resort. “You chain smoke now?” You teased, earning a glare from the man. “Seriously, what’s up your ass, Bennett?” You snickered, stopping with a flinch as he turned to you suddenly.

“Do you realize how stupid that was?” Tom growled lowly, putting out his cigarette angrily and tossing it over the railing.

“You just littered.”

“Jesus Christ!” He grumbled, running his hands over his face in frustration, looking at you in exasperation. “You’re not even listening to me!” He shook you by your shoulders, making you finally start to take him seriously. “You shouldn’t have done that, Y/n.”

You scoffed, pushing him off you. “I got us valuable information. You should be happy, Bennett.”

“Well, sorry, I’m fuckin’ not.”

“Okay, well, there’s nothing I can do about that now. What’s done is done. I’m tired of you being pissed at me all the damn time for doing my job. Just keep being your indifferent self from now on, please.”

Tom growled, pushing you up against the railing of the balcony with a hand on your throat. “You weren’t supposed to be here! But of course you had to be here. Tagging along, like a tick on a fuckin’ dog. God, you’re insufferable.” He ranted, finally letting you go when you didn’t falter, but unaware how hurtful he was being with his words but you only chuckled bitterly.

“Oh, I’m aware. You’ve made that clear ever since we even started this mission. But trust me, I regret it now. If I could, I’d leave this island and never bother you again.” You huffed. “God, do you wanna outrank me so bad that you’d do this mission by yourself?”

Tom huffed. “It’s not that-! Ugh, you shouldn't be here because it’s dangerous! You could’ve died earlier! If that man wasn’t as dumb as you thought he was, he could’ve killed you! Then what would we do? What would happen to this mission, your friends and family, to me?” He snapped, taking you by surprise.

“To you?” You asked timidly, your heart pounding in your chest as Tom’s expression softened at the sight of your unshed tears.

“You think I’m indifferent? That I don’t care about you? I care about you so much it hurts! That’s why I’m livid you came here. If you die on this stupid mission, a part of me will die too. I…it wouldn’t be a life worth living without you in it. I fuckin’ love you, Y/n. Don’t you get that?” He spoke angrily, a deep contrast to the softness of his words.

Your breath caught in your throat, your mouth gaping open but no words seemed to come out, not until Tom looked down dejectedly. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Tom. It was supposed to be just sex, that’s all.” Your voice betrayed you, wavering and on the verge of spilt tears.

Tom sighed shakily, taking out another cigarette and resting his arms on the railing. “I know…I’m sorry. I should’ve called us off as soon as I started catching feelings.”

You bit your lip, hesitantly taking a step closer to him, mirroring his stance and taking his cigarette from his fingers, bringing it to your own lips. You had stopped smoking a long time ago, but you felt you could have just this one, considering the circumstances. You coughed as the smoke filled your lungs, flinching when Tom gently patted your back, causing him to frown. You sighed, looking at him in pity. “Well…what happens now?”

“I know you hate me, so I understand if…if you wanna call us off.” Tom sulked, taking his cigarette back from you.

You shook your head, looking back over the railing, seeing the moon disappear behind the clouds that drifted by. “I don’t hate you, Tom. I never have.”

He chuckled. “Coulda fooled me.”

“I was an idiot and caught feelings for you too.” You confessed sullenly, hating the way your heart beat against your ribcage and the fire that was lit beneath the skin of your cheeks. You absolutely refused to look back at Tom, whose eyes you felt on you intensely. You couldn’t look into his eyes, you knew you’d break with just one glance, so you kept your gaze fixed on your fiddling hands.

You closed your eyes when Tom placed his hands on top of yours, squeezing them gently to encourage you to look at him. “Y/n…” But you couldn’t. You never opened your eyes, even when you felt his body up against yours, his constant warmth enveloping you and making your body relax despite yourself. His arms wrapping around your waist, his head dipping and his chin resting on your shoulder. “You don’t have to be scared, not with me.” You finally opened your eyes when he lifted your chin, your eyes instantly meeting his and you felt yourself melt against him. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop seeing you, but I couldn’t help it. I care about you too much to leave you alone.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You replied softly, causing Tom to look at you with those big blue puppy dog eyes that never failed to make your heart melt, even when they were filled with fury or irritation directed at you, even when you were often the cause.

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop Tom from surging forward to capture your lips in a kiss. This one felt different than all the others. You didn’t kiss often, only spur of the moment and they were always rage and lust filled. But not this one. This one was soft and slow, Tom’s lips moving against yours languidly, making sure to take his time. You felt your knees threatened to buckle as his tongue moved against yours, and brought his hands up to cup your jaw lovingly. You weren’t the biggest fan of fairy tales, but this felt like a fairytale kiss you always imagined one to be.

It didn’t take long for Tom to push you back into the hotel room, holding onto your waist until the back of your legs touched the bed. He gently sat you down at the edge, removing his shirt before helping you remove your clothing. You watched with heavy lidded eyes as he got on his knees, running his large hands up and down your upper thighs until you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. “Tom…” You whispered as he placed feather light kisses down the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

“Shh.” He spoke before continuing down the path of your legs until he reached your ankles, looking up at you with a crooked smile before pulling your underwear off your body, biting his lip when he saw the state he was able to put your pussy in. “Always so ready and willing for me, huh?” He teased, running the tips of his fingers up and down your slit, causing you to whine quietly. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare try to be quiet. We’re not on that plane anymore. I want you to be loud for me.” He pinched your clit to elicit a cry from you, which made him hum in approval.

“Fuck.” You whimpered as he lapped at your clit, one of his hands holding your leg up and the other using a finger to gently tease your entrance. You moaned and tilted your head back as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, pushing two fingers completely inside of you. You were already so embarrassingly close as you rutted against his face, the way his tongue swirled around you and his fingers curling against just the right spot making your head dizzy. A gasp got caught in your throat as Tom suddenly pulled away and slapped your pussy, the sound echoing loudly around the room.

“You don’t get to come, not yet.” He growled before diving back in, making you keen loudly. The pleasure was so intense you had no idea how you could obey his command. You curled your fingers through his hair tightly, trying to ground yourself and also trying so hard not to lose yourself and come accidentally. “Fuck, your cunt is squeezing my fingers so hard. You’re so close, aren’t you, love?”

“I’m right there.” You sobbed, tears streaming down your face as Tom fucked you hard with his fingers, the borderline pornagraphic sounds coming from your cunt making heat rise to your cheeks. But you were too out of it to care. “Please, Tom, please…”

“I bet that man a couple floors down couldn’t make you feel this way, hm? Was he even able to make you come?” He snarled, his fingers curling against you more aggressively.

“No…” You stuttered with a strangled moan. “It took him—fuck! Took him six thrusts to come.” You chuckled tremulously, unable to stop your moans even if you tried.

“You counted?” He grinned.

“It was hard not to.” You cried out as another pang of intense pleasure coursed through you. You were so fucking close it was painful not being allowed to, Tom completely neglecting your clit even though it felt just as good when he was fingering you. It was too much and not enough. You needed him. You needed his cock. You needed to come. “Please…” You whined loudly, obnoxiously so.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” You nodded frantically. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to. Tell me, who’s the only one allowed to fuck you from now on? Who’s the only one who gets to taste this sweet cunt of yours?”

“You, Tom.” You howled, his words only adding to your pleasure to your surprise. “Oh fuck, I’m yours, only yours, Tom. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“Good girl.” Tom growled as he grabbed you by the throat and pulled you into a passionate kiss, using the leverage from his fingers knuckle deep in your cunt and the grip on your neck to force you back towards the headboard on the bed, only pulling away from you to shed off his trousers and underwear. He was so rock hard the tip of his cock had turned into a lovely shade of pink, the sight making you drool as it came closer to your entrance as Tom crawled on top of you, resuming that passionate kiss. He pushed into you with no warning, splitting you open and causing you to gasp against his mouth, allowing him to bite your bottom lip before pulling away.

The pace he set was different too, just like that previous kiss on the balcony. It was slow, purposeful, and calculated; the thrusts were so powerful and deep that it made the top of your head hit the headboard and your tits bounce violently. His cock stretched your walls so perfectly as it always had, his thickness never the easiest to adjust to, but the slight sting of him made the pleasure all the more intense. You were still so close, but now with no stimulation to your clit, it was easier to hold back.

“You’re so beautiful.” Tom murmured, his eyebrows furrowed tightly in concentration. Even with him being balls deep inside of you, his intense gaze made you feel even more naked than you already were. He never used to look at you this way before, but it was a nice change. He didn’t even try to hold himself back as he picked up the pace, holding you in his arms and rocking you with his sped up thrusts.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” You cried, your moans becoming more breathless and high pitched. “I wanna come so bad.”

“Not yet, love. I want us to come together.” Tom lifted himself up on his knees, grabbing onto the fat of your hips roughly to have the purchase to pound into you relentlessly. He hit the ends of you over and over again, your stomach starting to ache deeply and the knot inside you was tightening more and more, one right move threatening to make it snap. “Fuck.” Tom moaned, his cock twitching inside of you, his body tensing as he got nearer to that edge.

“I want you to come inside me, Tom.” You whimpered, placing your hands on top of his, digging your nails into his skin as your grip tightened.

Tom reached down to rub your clit, the action practically making you scream. You moaned his name over and over again along with taking gasping breaths, your pleasure melting your brain and turning you into a babbling mess. “Yeah, yeah, that’s it, love. Come with me. Please, come with me. Come all over my cock.” You didn’t need any more encouragement for that band inside you to pull taunt until it snapped hard, that wave of ecstasy knocking the breath out of you and making your vision hazy. But not hazy enough to see Tom hit that climax along with you, each of you letting out strained moans as you released together, you soaking his cock and his cum painting your velvety walls. He stilled inside you as you rode out your highs, slumping over and placing delicate kisses all over your neck and collarbone. “Fuck…” He breathed out with a chuckle, pulling out and laying beside you.

“Fuck…” You agreed, trying to catch your breath.

Tom started to reach over to pull you against him, but hesitated when you flinched. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t cuddled after sex, but it was mostly after a particularly rough session as a part of aftercare. You rarely cuddled after a gentle night like this one, especially not after confessing feelings for one another. But your skin already thrummed for attention, for his skin to be on yours even after having sex. It was scary, to open yourself up to heartbreak. But looking at Tom’s painfully hopeful gaze, you suddenly realized you wouldn’t mind getting your heart broken by him.

You reached out to him with a shy smile, allowing him to pull you closer and rest your head on his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He didn’t hide the large grin his mouth broke out into; it was way too endearing. But now, you supposed you’d be seeing those more often.

“We need to discuss our strategy for this meeting.” Tom spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.

You chuckled lightly, looking up at him. “Now?”

“At some point.”

“How does tomorrow morning sound?”

Tom smiled, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. “Sounds perfect.”

The next morning, you woke up in Tom’s embrace. You may have cuddled before, but you had never actually slept together like this all throughout the night, on purpose. You were surprised you had woken up first, considering how much you hated early mornings. Tom was always the early bird, but you had the chance to watch him while he was still asleep. You didn’t think it would affect you that much, but goddamn he was adorable when he slept. The permanent curve of his lips made it seem like he was smiling in his sleep and he looked…soft. Very soft. You always envied his perfect smooth skin, but this was ridiculous. No matter how hard you tried in the past, you could never find a single flaw on his body. It irked you, but you couldn’t stop staring at him, even when he started to stir awake.

His lips upturned in a sly smirk, already smug after a second of consciousness. “Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to wiggle out of his grip but he was stronger and kept you in place. “We have a busy day, we can’t lie in bed all morning.” You lightly scolded, pride filling you as you felt his grip loosen, allowing you to rise from the bed. “We should stake out the room where the meeting’s gonna take place.” You spoke, cleaning up and getting dressed, while Tom just watched you as he cuddled a pillow. “Like what you see?” You mocked, smiling when he sneered.

After getting ready for the day, you and Tom followed the instructions that were hastily written on the post it note. The hotel was rather large, but you found the room somewhat easily. It was a conference room on the first floor, occupied with a long table with too many chairs to count. It was empty, or at least it seemed to be. Nor you or Tom saw anyone hanging out anywhere near the room. No guards or people preparing for this possible meeting, but you figured it was normal since the meeting wasn’t taking place that particular day.

“Alright,” Tom voiced, “you keep watch while I set up the bugs. Just signal if you see anyone coming, and don’t hesitate to get the fuck out if anything happens.”

You scoffed. “Like I’m gonna leave you to fend for yourself.” Tom’s gaze softened, causing your face to flush with heat. “Cause you definitely wouldn’t survive without me. You don’t have social skills to get yourself out of trouble.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but you could see a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Right.”

You leaned against the wall opposite of the double doors to the conference room, keeping a sharp eye out from anyone who might’ve been walking your way. You hoped Tom could set up the bugs in time and get out before anyone notices. But it seems the luck you had last night in getting the information ran out as the same man you used started to come walking down the hall. You quickly pressed on your small hidden walkie, hearing the buzz in your ear piece. “Henchman, incoming. I’ll distract him.” You whispered into the mic.

“No, get out of there. Do not engage, you hear me?” You ignored Tom’s frantic orders as you plastered a fake smile on your face, greeting James warmly.

“Well, hi there, stranger.” You teased flirtatiously.

James’ eyes flashed with shock and confusion at first, looking around curiously. “Hi? What’re you doing here?” He asked in suspicion, making your heart hammer in your ribcage.

You sighed dramatically. “The husband isn’t too happy with my disappearance last night. Came here to get a break from his constant glares.”

His face flushed red, smiling nervously as if he just remembered what had taken place the night before. “Oh, right. You didn’t tell him, did you?”

You scoffed. “Of course not. I may be a stunner but I’m not dumb either.”

“I never implied you were.”

You giggled. “I did have fun last night though.” You lied, swallowing the bile that threatened to come up your throat.

He nodded. “Me too. Do you…think we can do it again?”

You smiled sadly. “I’m afraid not. Our vacation is almost over and I don’t want my husband getting too suspicious.” Just then, you faintly hear the creaking of a door opening. From behind the henchman, you spotted Tom’s concerned face. But before James in front of you could react to the noise, you pulled him to you. “But…how about a goodbye kiss? For the memories?” You grinned, capturing your lips with his, a surprised noise coming from his mouth. You opened your eyes and gestured for Tom to get out of there. He gave you one last angry reluctant look before obeying you, running off as silently as possible.

James pulled away with a breathless chuckle. “Man, I will miss these pretty lips of yours.” He wiped his thumb over your bottom lip, making you shiver uncomfortably, but he took it as a good thing. “I hope you’ll be thinking of me whenever you’re fucking your boring husband.”

Not likely, creep. “It’ll be hard not to. Well, enjoy the rest of your vacation.” You blew him a kiss before walking away, trying to calm your heart from beating out of your chest. That was the worst. You wanted to wash your mouth out with soap.

Right around the corner, Tom pulled you to him, making you almost let out a yelp of surprise. “Are you alright?” He grabbed your face gently, looking you over with an adorable concern.

You smiled. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Told you I could get out of trouble better than you could.”

Tom’s eyes darkened. “Well, I’m sure it’s easier when you have these.” You gasped as Tom groped your breasts from over your shirt, making you lightly slap him, but he only giggled mischievously.

“So, did you plant all the bugs?”

“Yep, thanks to you. You gave me more time. I owe you one.”

“You sure do. I’ve had my fair share of that douchebag.” You cringed with a groan, the taste of that man’s mouth still sticking to your lips unbearably.

“Me too.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean you too? You didn’t have to sleep with him.”

Tom frowned. “Yes. But I gotta tell ya, I was mad jealous. I felt like I was gonna punch a wall or something. I almost pulled him off you back there to do exactly that: punch the bastard.”

“Then our cover would’ve been blown.”

He shrugged. “Not if I played the husband role, angry that my wife was with another man. Which…isn’t that far off, if I’m being honest.”

You chuckled. “Well, when this mission is over and we’re back home, you have my permission to punch any guy that tries to hit on me.”

Tom stopped in his tracks, just steps away from your shared hotel room. “Wait…” He suddenly blushed bright red. “Does that mean…I’m your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t stop your own blush painting your face, looking down and smiling bashfully. “I mean, yeah. If you want to be?” Tom grinned widely, suddenly picking you up and spinning you around, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your giggles bounced around the echoey hallway as he placed quick pecks all over your face and neck, tickling you until you gently pushed him off. “Happy, are you?” You laughed in amusement.

“You have no idea.” You may have had an idea…

For the rest of the day and every day after leading up to the actual meeting, all you and Tom did was listen in through the planted bugs. It was surprisingly super boring. Anything heard was very few and far between. Nothing of substance was ever said. All the noises that came from the bugs was the shuffling and creaking of people moving around and moving around furniture you assumed.

Your handler informed you and Tom that a team was being sent in, and your job was to make sure to tell that team when the meeting was well under way and to make sure every person of importance was there so they could be arrested. It didn’t sound like a difficult process, but you made sure to prepare for anything.

The day of, you were loading and prepping your weapons while Tom was listening to the live audio feed, his face in deep concentration. He looked cute and you wanted to say so, but you figured it would’ve been inappropriate at a time like this. An uncomfortable tension filled the air that forced your hands to shake, which couldn’t have come at a worse time. You tried taking deep breaths, but it didn’t work. You hid it as best you could. You and Tom already had gotten into an argument about who was going to be the one to direct the rest of the team where the meeting room was. He did not want you down there, at all. But your stubbornness got the better of you and you didn’t let him win. You’d be fine, you were sure of it. You were going to have to head down to the first floor of the hotel soon, staying with the team until Tom radioed that the meeting was almost over.

“Don’t try to be a hero.” Tom told you. “Self preservation before anything else, got it?”

You promised him, if only to ease his nerves. You weren’t going to make any dumb decisions, that wasn’t like you. But you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t get hurt even if you made the smartest choices, the job couldn’t guarantee it, you knew that. But you’d rather get hurt than Tom, that much you were sure of. 

The shake of your hands stopped as you loaded your gun’s magazine, just as Tom turned his head to you and nodded. “Be safe.” He spoke, his brows furrowed in worry.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I will. I’ll see you soon.”

“You better.”

You shook off your nerves and exited the hotel room without another word or glance back at Tom, leaving him and praying you’d see him again, maybe take him on a proper date after all this nonsense was over.

You met up with the team, and they gave you your own bulletproof vest in case things went sideways. You briefed them on where this meeting was and how to get there, pointing to the place on the map of the hotel layout. And after almost an hour of standing around and waiting for shit to hit the fan, your walkie finally sounded off and Tom’s voice spoke over the radio. “They’re starting to trade.”

That was the cue.

You and the team went out, speeding down the halls to the conference room. You could feel your heartbeat in your pulse as the doors were kicked open, threatening yells and weapons being pointed, but the crime boss ordered his henchman’s weapons be pointed back at them. That’s when shit finally hit the fan.

You ducked as bullets went flying across the room, at everyone on either side, the shots echoing loudly and making your eardrums ring. You didn’t let it bother you as you were preoccupied with finding cover, getting your own weapon out and finding a target. You never thought your life would come to this, taking another human being’s life. But it was either you or them. It was at this moment you wondered if you ever should’ve joined this field in the first place. A bullet flying way too close to you snapped you out of those thoughts, forcing you to shoot back. You locked eyes with a familiar face, one you hoped you’d never see again. But of course it was him, James. You watched as the man’s face furrowed in anger, clearly fooled and feeling stupid himself. He should’ve known something was off about you, but too little too late.

The shooting suddenly stopped as the crime boss yelled out in surrender, holding his hands up above the table he was hiding behind, telling his men to stop their own firing. Your team shouted at everyone to put their weapons down and put their hands up, and they all complied fearfully. Your team came out from their cover as the dust seemed to clear, moving to finally apprehend these people. You watched, trying to calm your heartbeat as you felt relief wash over you. You did it, you and Tom. You almost couldn’t believe it.

Just as you realized everything was going to be okay, three shots rang out.

Before you could comprehend what had happened, you were on the floor. Pain surged through your entire body, making it difficult to find the source of the pain. You groaned as a team member ran to you, getting on their knees and quickly putting pressure on what you figured was a bullet wound. You struggled to lift your head to figure out what exactly happened, and you managed to see James on the floor dead, bleeding a puddle of blood beneath him. Karma’s a bitch, you thought. You didn’t think fucking him for information would come back to bite you in the ass, but here you were, bullet not in your ass, but your shoulder. The two other shots thankfully hit your vest, but it still hurt like hell. The bruises you felt instantly forming from those other two shots made you wince, more pressure being added from your comrade making you cry out.

“Shh, don’t move.” The person above you spoke. “Medic!”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You grunted.

From another room, you could hear angry shouts, immediately recognizing the voice as Tom’s. Man, he was going to be pissed at you. But you found it hard to care as you felt blood leaving your body in copious amounts, even with the multiple hands putting pressure on it and miles long amount of gaze being stuffed onto your shoulder. “We need to get her to a hospital now.” The medic spoke urgently. You felt like a loser as your vision started to dim, trying your best to keep yourself awake. But it was out of your control.

Everything after that was a blur. You could hear the sound of sirens, lights flashed above your fluttering eyelids, the smell of cleaning supplies and chemicals making its way into your nostrils, the feeling of a warm hand holding yours. You couldn’t make any sense of it, not until you finally regained full consciousness laying in a hospital bed.

Your eyes squinted as you tried to adjust to the light, even if they were dimmed for your sake. You moaned as you tried to sit up, but you were quickly held in place gently. “No, no, don’t try to move.” The anxious tension in your body alleviated slightly as your eyes landed on Tom’s face, a weak smile coming to your lips. “The doctors said you can’t move yet.”

You inhaled deeply, despite the awful smelling chemicals of the ER. Your mouth was horrifically dry, your lips chapped and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Water.” You choked out, cringing at the hoarseness of your voice. Tom helped you take a few sips of water, which made you feel so much better but also embarrassed that you couldn't even help yourself at that moment. “What happened?”

Tom’s lips upturned in a wry, amused smile. “You were shot.”

You scoffed, chuckling lightly even though it hurt. “I know that. I mean, what happened after I blacked out. I don’t remember, obviously.”

Tom lost his weak smile, grabbing and holding your hand. “Doctor said the bullet hit your brachial plexus. You had to go into surgery to repair it.”

“Well shit, that doesn’t sound good. I’d be more upset if I knew exactly what a brachial plexus is.” You joked, which earned a reluctant chuckle from Tom.

“It’s nerves that allow your arm to move, basically.”

“Oh…” You frowned. “That is bad.”

“...yeah.”

“Well? Did the doctors fix it?”

Tom’s eyes briefly lightened up and he nodded slightly. “They did. They got you to the hospital fast, thankfully. But it looks like you’re gonna be out of commission for several months while you recover, lots of physical therapy and bedrest.”

You groaned. “Ugh, not bedrest.” Tom sighed in exasperation, putting his head in his hands. “Tom?” You tried to reach out for him as you started to hear soft sniffles, coming out muffled from behind his hands, but it sent a spark up pain through your body. “Tom, come on, look at me.”

Tom’s eyes were a bright blue from the tears that were flowing down his face. He looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally. “You lied to me. You told me you were gonna be safe.” He exhaled a shuddering breath.

“I was…until that asshole decided to get revenge on me.” You slightly chuckled, but Tom’s frown only deepened. “I’m sorry. I never wanted you to worry. It’s just…this is part of the job. There was always a chance I’d get hurt, any of us.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted to be down there and not you.”

You shook your head, well, tried to. “No. I’d have rather died than put your life in danger.”

Tom scoffed angrily. “Why? Why do that?”

“Because if you died…a part of me would’ve died too.” Your voice wavered, unwanted tears spilling over and falling down your cheeks. “I love you too, Tom.” You looked away from his intense and unwaveringly loving gaze, too overwhelming to handle. You sniffled. “I’m sorry if that’s selfish of me. But I simply care about your life more than mine…I’ve never felt this way before, about anyone. It’s terrifying.”

You looked back at him as he took your hand with his, running his thumb over your slightly bruised knuckles. “I guess I’m selfish too, because I feel the same way. Which is why I’m fuckin’ pissed at you.” He spoke, but his tone held no semblance of anger and his gaze was just as loving as before.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You can’t be mad when I’m injured.” You teased, causing him to roll his eyes and look down to hide a grin of his own. “Can’t complain when you’re taking care of me either. You have to listen to my every demand.” You giggled.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” He raised a brow, making you blush furiously.

“Uh, I, um, only if you, uh-”

Tom interrupted you with a laugh, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “Of course. Besides, you couldn’t keep me away even if you tried.”

“That’s good to know.” Then you realized, “Hold on, wait. How’d you even get in here? Isn’t visiting for family only?”

Tom smirked as he held up his left hand, the fake wedding ring still on his finger. “Can’t keep a husband away from his wife, can they?”

uh...kinda overdid it, didn't I? oh well haha

I am beggggging for more aemond smut😫 your writing is so good

thank you😭💓🥺 don't worry, darling (ha), i have another eyepatch boi smut in the works😏

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😬

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…"