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hardlyinteresting · 2 months

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Personal

Aaron Hotchner x reader

A case hits a little too close to home for the reader. Hotch makes sure she knows she not alone even as they struggle to decide if they're colleagues, friends, or something more.

Warnings: female reader, (I've given her the nickname Sweets), No physical description of reader, mildly graphic descriptions of injuries, cannon-compliant themes of violence, themes of past domestic violence, mild hurt/comfort, I am not a profiler so there are likely mistakes in the profile (please let me know if there are any warnings you'd like me to add. Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

Word count: 3.2K

"Hope is a gift. You can't choose to have it. To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain" Ann-Marie MacDonald

The case comes in early in the morning. Aaron has hardly managed a sip of his coffee when the phone rings with a call from a local P.D. in Aberdeen, Virginia. It's urgent. It always is. He cannot begrudge the haste with which his job forces him to chug down the scalding liquid in his mug as he calls upon Garcia to prep the relevant files for the case. It's not the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. Sufficiently caffeinated (albeit with a burnt tongue), and briefed on the case, Hotch calls the team to meet him in the conference room.

His colleagues seem to be in good spirits today. With a passing glance around the room Hotch silently completes a behavioural checklist for each of them in his mind. No one on the team seems over-exhausted, overtly anxious, or withdrawn. They chat amongst themselves, teasing and joking like siblings as they wait for him to settle into the remaining seat at the table. He nods at Penelope, “Garcia, let's get started”. With a quick “yes, sir,” she presses a button on the remote to begin the briefing.

This morning the police in Aberdeen discovered the body of a woman left propped up against the wall outside a local medical clinic. Abigail Lawson. 27 years old. She had been badly beaten. A single stab wound. No sign of sexual assault.

“Cause of death?” Prentiss asks.

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” Garcia supplies the response.

“And she's the first?” Morgan follows up.

“Two weeks ago Stella Amos, twenty-five, was admitted to hospital with similar injuries. She passed away two hours later. A punctured lung”.

The photographs of the injuries are disturbing. After years on the job, the images never seem to get less brutal. A chill travels down his spine as he looks over the extent of the wounds on both of the women. A hush falls over the room as everyone else takes a moment to swallow down their own shock and compartmentalize their feelings of disgust. They train themselves, scanning the photographs and notes for the facts they can work with in hopes of saving anyone else from meeting the same fate.

“No stab wound. Are we sure these cases are connected?” Reid surveys the provided facts one more time.

“Similar age, hair colour. They were from the same neighbourhood. Steady jobs,” Rossi lists, “there's a pattern in victimology to be sure”.

“They could be unconnected acts of domestic violence,” Morgan posits before continuing, “but leaving these women at medical centres is unique. Could be remorse”.

“A man who beats women within an inch of their lives before dropping them off for medical attention. It's a big risk. Knowing they might survive to identify him”.

Hotch nods at the assessment. He had followed the same thought process himself when he got the call.

“Maybe he's banking on them being too afraid to talk if they do pull through,” another voice in the room speaks up for the first time this morning. Sweets, the team calls her. An affectionate nickname that’s stuck since her first week on the team. “the stabbing is an escalation and these are high-risk victims. This UNSUB isn't worried about getting caught. These attacks are personal to him somehow”. It's an important assertion, and something they'll need to consider as they build and expand their working profile.

He's glad to hear Sweets adding to the conversation. She's never been shy when contributing to the team's brainstorms, and he had begun to worry when it had taken her so long to speak up. He doesn't miss the wobble in her tone, or the way she now avoids eye contact. She’s a valuable team member, and despite being the most recent addition she’s settled herself flawlessly over the last year. Aaron is well aware of the poor retention rate for new team members in the BAU and has continued to be impressed by her ability to hang on to her brand of optimism and take their most difficult cases in stride. She’s worked hard to see the best in people, and unsurprisingly endeared herself to those around her; himself included.

At first, Hotch had been grateful for her unique perspective from her experience working for victim services. Then, he grew to appreciate her attention to detail, and the way his piles of paperwork seemed smaller and smaller at the end of each week. She quickly became a friend and a confidant after long nights in the office, and the field. Now, their relationship lies in limbo somewhere between friends and something more.

Lately, the tugging at his heartstrings has grown nearly painful. All the old cliches leave his heart racing and he feels like a teenager whenever her hand brushes against his own. A night out with the team had ended with her curled up in his bed the next morning, and he’s been a goner ever since. It's been weeks, she hasn’t mentioned it, so neither has he. The guise of professionalism makes it easy to shove down his insecurities, and recurring fears; his age; his scars, physical and metaphorical; the weight of his career; he pushes them to the back of his mind. He does not dare to hope. He does not allow himself to consider the reasons why she might want to keep him at arm's length. It hurts less that way. “Whatever the case we've got a week before he strikes again,” Hotch confirms, his mind focused on the case, “we should head out”.

It’s August, and the sun is nearly blinding; the heat and humidity are intolerable, but nobody complains as they split up between the most recent crime scene, the morgue, and the precinct. Hotch would never admit it, but he’s glad when the woman who occupies half his thoughts volunteers to head to the station with JJ. Not for his peace of mind, but hers. Driving into the town he had seen her hands fidgeting in the back seat of the Suburban. Something about this case is already weighing on her, and he doubts the discomfort of the summer calefaction will be much help. He tries not to think about it any more than that.

The crime scene doesn’t tell them much more than they already knew. There’s no security footage to help them identify the UNSUB. But, the way he leans the victims to sit against the way rather than just dumping them shows some kind of warped sense of concern for their well-being. The women are likely substitutes for someone else. He was likely raised in a violent home. He can only hope that the rest of the team has managed to learn more.

Sweets is glad that the station had the forethought to move a coffee maker into the room they’ve set up for the BAU team to work out of. In her short time on the team, she’s learned how essential caffeine is to the function of herself and her teammates. Not enjoying coffee is not an option. Cream and sugar make it tolerable to those who despise the bitter taste. As she preps her second cup of the day she watches Spencer dump 4 packets of sugar into his mug. Whatever gets you through the case. She reminds herself.

“Defensive wounds on her arms, but her manicure wasn't chipped. There was no blood or skin under her fingernails. No bruising on her knuckles,” Morgan shares what he and Rossi learned at the morgue, “She held her arms up to protect herself, but she didn't fight back. She didn't scratch, claw, or punch her assailant”.

“She probably knew him then,” Prentiss says, “He’s not sneaking up on these women. But, he has the advantage and control required to attack them head-on”.

The profile continues to build and Sweets pulls further in on herself. The personal nature of the attacks leaves her nauseous. Flickers of memories she’s fought hard to forget flash behind her eyes, but she forces herself to stay in the room. Reign it in, she wills herself. Without looking across the room she knows Aaron’s eyes are on her. Her cheeks warm though she can’t be sure if it’s his gaze or her anxiety to blame. She tries not to read into it, not wanting to feel too self-important. It’s his job to watch everyone on the team, she knows that. It doesn’t mean anything, she reminds herself the same way she has since she woke up next to him all those weeks ago. She doesn't want attention because she slept with him, and she'd be silly to think it meant anything to him anyway. It's easier to ignore it. He hasn't mentioned it, so she hasn't either.

Despite her best efforts, she does like him. More than she should. Normally, the attention would leave her with butterflies fluttering in her chest, like a schoolgirl with a crush. But today, she feels too seen, too exposed. she focuses her attention on controlling the unwanted emotions this case continues to dredge up. Aaron has seen her undressed, he’s seen her let down her walls and crack jokes. He knows her better than the rest of the team, but this is not a side of her he needs to see.

Under the table she plants her feet, pressing the soles of her boots hard against the linoleum. She reminds herself who she’s with and why she’s here. When she’s able to breathe without gagging she speaks up, “If it looks like domestic violence maybe that’s exactly what it is”. Hotch’s head tilts up, his eyes moving off of the files he’s been pretending to read for the hundredth time, “What do you mean?”

“This morning Morgan said these murders looked like cases of DV. Maybe that’s exactly what this is. We know he had some kind of relationship with the victims-- maybe they were dating him,” Sweets holds her breath waiting for a response.

“It would help to explain the gaps in our profile-- Prentiss, call Garcia and have her look into any recent purchases by the victims. New clothes, new shoes, restaurants, anything that might suggest they’ve been dating,” Hotch instructs, “Sweets, you and JJ should speak to their friends and family; ask if they’ve mentioned anyone new in their lives”.

Like with any case, she hopes her insight helps, that her perspective and thinking might get them one step closer to finding the UNSUB before anyone else gets hurt; and that they might be able to bring closure to the families of the victims.

She's learned that personal experience can help as much as it can hinder. Seeing things from an angle that no one else can is certainly an advantage, but it doesn't make it easy to live with either. But, her stomach churns. His face. His touch. The bruises he left behind. She tries to remember she has nothing to be ashamed of. She has nothing to hide. It's no secret everyone on the team struggles with different types of cases, JJ has always found it difficult working cases involving children, and Hotch becomes snappier when they're searching for family annihilators.

She can feel Aaron's eyes on her again. She prays the twisting in her gut and the scratching in her mind are worth it.

The next morning begins with news of a third victim. A Jane Doe was found outside the fire station. Aged between 22 and 25. Beaten beyond any kind of recognition. The M.E. will have to try to use dental records to ID her.

The crime scene photographs are a gruesome addition to the already horrific crime board in the conference room. “It would take an incredible amount of rage and power to beat someone to death like this,” Rossi points out.

Hotch’s fingers buzz. His usual ground method of rubbing his thumb and forefinger together isn't working. He clenches and unclenches his fist willing the memory of bone cracking, and blood splattering beneath his knuckles away. He hates that even years after his death George Foyet continues to find new ways to sink his teeth in; the mere memory of him is enough to leave bile rising in the back of Aaron's throat.

Their profile is ready. A white male, mid 20s to early 30s. Traditionally attractive. He's well-groomed and takes pride in his appearance. He more than likely works in an office setting. At work, his desk is neat and well-organized. He does everything by the book. He aspires to a role above his own and will talk about it often. In his eyes, he's overworked and under-appreciated; but, in reality, it's his quick temper and outward frustration that have kept him in his menial role. He may be flirtatious towards the women around him but likely won't pay them any attention when it comes to business matters. As a child he would have grown up in a working-class household, and more than likely faced abuse at the hands of his father. As a teenager, he learned to place blame on his mother for this abuse and began looking down on her the same way his father did. But no amount of hatred could ever win him his father's attention. This made him hate his mother more and allowed his misogynistic views to solidify in adulthood. He will have a history of violence throughout school and early adulthood, and more than likely charges for battery or assault.

A call from Garcia confirms that the first and second victims both had paid for dinners at restaurants within the same two-block stretch despite living and working on opposite sides of town. Their cards had been used at the restaurants only 25 minutes before their attacks.

“And he didn’t pay for their dinners either. Chivalry really is dead,” Prentiss dismisses. Predictably, their collective disdain for the UNSUB continues to grow as they learn more about him. Penelope manages to rustle up security footage from one of the restaurants, she's unable to get a facial ID on the man leaving with the first victim but promises to search for other footage from the area and call back when she has a new lead. One step closer, Hotch reminds himself.

Twenty minutes later word from the M.E. Office arrives. A positive ID on Jane Doe. Grace McKinney, 24. Aaron watches as Sweets pins a photograph of Grace to the victims' board. Her hands shake as she takes a step back, and then she's rushing out of the room before he can ask if she's alright.

His body feels lead-heavy, his limbs so hebetudinous that he’d swear he was melting into the floor if it weren’t for his feet carrying him out of the room without instruction. Sweets is doubled over in the alleyway behind the station, remnants of her breakfast splashed across the ground. She has nothing left to bring up, but still she dry heaves as if trying to expel more than the contents of her stomach. He knows the feeling.

“Sweets?” his voice starles her, and Hotch is quick to hold his hands out in a surrendering motion as he approaches, “Are you alright?” He knows the real answer, and he knows that she’ll look right at him and lie; but he asks anyway. “Are you asking as my boss, or as my friend?” She asks. “Would it make a difference?” it’s his turn to wonder. Finally close enough to touch her, he places a hand on her back. It’s impossible to miss the shiver that runs up her spine. Sweets hides her face, angling herself away from her, shrinking in on herself. She tries to hide from him, as unwilling as ever to show any kind of weakness real or perceived. “I’m asking as someone who cares,” Hotch tries again, snuffing out the burning sensation that seems to grow in his chest; his fear of vulnerability fighting hard to shut him down. He won’t let it. “It’s me,” she tells him as if it’s obvious. “Yes”. He's confused. Of course, it's her, he can see her standing right in front of him. “It's me. I'm the Jane Doe; Grace. Abigail. Stella”. His heart stops. She continues, looking at him for the first time, her eyes tearing up, “Not literally-- I just mean…”

“The victimogy. I understand. Same age, hair colour, similar backgrounds--”

“Yes,” She admits, “but we see cases with women who look like me all the time”.

Aaron nods, taking her openness as an opportunity to guide her out of the alleyway, waiting patiently for her to continue in her own time. “I had a boyfriend a few years ago…I just-- I need some time to collect myself”.

Again, Aaron nods, understanding, “Would you like me to leave?”

She shakes her head, her hand shooting up to hold to his arm. She’s shaking less now than she was before. More than ever he wants to hold her, but he doesn’t want to overstep; and during a case, there are lines he cannot cross as her boss. It’s the crux of the predicament they’ve found themselves in. Their personal lives and feelings bleeding and blending to create this strait. Deep down, he’s sure that a line of open communication between them would ease this impasse, but he’s far too shy to suggest it. For now, he settles for being glad her breathing has slowed, and her tears have stopped. “Thank you,” Sweets breathes out. Her hand slips down to squeeze his before she lets go and steps away from him. “Anytime,” he swears. He means it.

They find their UNSUB three hours later. Garcia’s scanning of security footage gives them a few license plates from cars within a two-block radius of the restaurants the victims went to. Only one owner fits their profile. He’s at work when they find him. Sweets takes great pleasure in cuffing the man. Hotch has no complaints.

When they arrive back in Quantico it’s nearing midnight. The team takes their leaving swearing they’ll finish their paperwork tomorrow morning. Sweets takes advantage of the rare silence in the bullpen to complete her reports. She’s not ready to go home. Not yet. At work, she has a shield, a carefully crafted persona; as cracked as it may be at the moment, it holds back the onslaught of personal fallout she’s sure waits for her at home. Sure her apartment is warmer and cozier than the office ever is. Her bed is far more comfortable than any desk chair. But, at home, she has nothing to distract her. At home, she has no obligation to maintain a facade sewn up by professional self-preservation. At home, she’ll be alone without the steady presence of Aaron Hotchner working away in his office.

The room is bathed in warm lamplight, a comfortable difference from the overhead fluorescents down in the bullpen. Something like a moth, she’s drawn to it by an instinct stronger than her willpower. She knocks on the door frame before leaning into the room. “I finished my report,” she tells him when he looks up. “You didn’t have to finish that tonight,” he tells her with furrowed brows. He sets down his pen and shuts the file he was working on to give her his attention. She steps into the room, setting her report on the edge of his desk. “I didn’t want to go home yet”. She explains though she gets the feeling that he understands. If there’s anyone she knows with a mutual streak of using workplace responsibility to avoid personal turmoil, it’s Hotch. Still, he nods, validating her most simply. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Are you asking as my boss or something more?” she wonders.

“Would it make a difference?” He asks. “Yes,” She responds. Sweets watches as he swallows, his brows knitting together as he considers his answer carefully, “I’m asking as someone who cares about you very much, in whatever capacity you need me to right now”. It’s a diplomatic response. Gentle and inviting without being outright hopeful. Quintessentially Aaron Hotchner.

“Will you come home with me,” Sweets allows herself to be bold enough to ask.

“Yes,” he tells her simply.

In the morning he slips away only to return with two cups of coffee and a box of breakfast pastries. They don’t need to be in the office until 10:00 and he plans on taking advantage of the time they have together until then. Sweets accepts the cup he holds out to her with an eager smile, and a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #criminal minds fic

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genderkoolaid · 10 months

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Do you genuinely believe we can somehow change the hearts and minds of billionaires and politicians in power in for example the USA in a way that will actually result in a radical change in and improvement of conditions for folks currently oppressed under capitalism in the USA and hopefully globally? If so, how?

This is coming from someone who really would like to believe pure nonviolence is possible but who does not see much of an actual way forward for that. That said I do not see those billionaires and politicians as "nonhuman", I don't think that's productive and I think dehumanizing anyone who is factually a human person as a practice is dangerous so I am in agreement with you there. Thanks for your time if you choose to share your thoughts.

What I like about Against the Logic of the Guillotine is that it isn't for pure nonviolence. It breaks down the false binary that our options are "let the streets run red with blood until our every thirst for revenge is slaked" or "punching nazis makes you as bad as them 🥺"

& i think that binary is tempting because it absolves us of a responsibility to think deeply about things. if all revolutionary violence is good and justified, then you don't have to think too hard about the violence, you just see it & condone it. If all violence is bad and morally evil, then you still don't have to think too hard to condemn it. Our options are like, moral baby food.

But if we reject that binary, then there is no easy answer. Its not as easy as "yes leftist violence is always justified" or "any violence ever is always unjustified." You have to ask yourself, what am I doing? Why? What does this accomplish? Who is affected by this? What do they have to say? It makes us look at the actual nature of our violence and pick it apart and see where we have fucked up and where we might fuck up again. Its a lot more messy and also requires that we form relationships with others & genuinely listen to what they have to say. Its much much harder than Violence Good or Violence Bad but its also much more capable of adapting to the needs of people in the complicated situations where we find ourselves.

My opinion is that we will not reach anti-capitalism and anti-imperialism without violence. But more than anything, its because the systems in power will not let us. I think the foundation of the Revolution (in a more abstract sense of the word) must be community. We should focus our efforts most on building local networks of mutual support. If people suddenly find themself in a community that has free public food gardens & a community fridge, where people are already practicing transformative justice, etc. etc. then it will become materially obvious that we don't need to rely on the current system to survive. It will become clear that the current system is more of a hindrance to what we could do if we were not being controlled. And then people will be more likely to support any revolutionary violence that becomes necessary, because they will see their neighbors and know that when the dust settles, they know how to care for each other through shitty situations. Violence should really be the topping on a cake of community & indispensability politics.

Also this line from AtLotG really changed my perspective on "punishing the rich":

The worst punishment anyone could inflict on those who govern and police us today would be to compel them to live in a society in which everything they’ve done is regarded as embarrassing—for them to have to sit in assemblies in which no one listens to them, to go on living among us without any special privileges in full awareness of the harm they have done. If we fantasize about anything, let us fantasize about making our movements so strong that we will hardly have to kill anyone to overthrow the state and abolish capitalism. This is more becoming of our dignity as partisans of liberation.

"If we fantasize about anything, let us fantasize about making our movements so strong that we will hardly have to kill anyone to overthrow the state and abolish capitalism" really sums it up for me.

#sorry if this is kind of a mess i am So pain and fatigue rn #my body is taking disability pride month way too seriously #m.#ask box

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alpaca-clouds · 9 months

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Let me talk Anarchism

Okay, let me quickly talk about it, because I am so annoyed with this. For once in the way how it relates to Solarpunk, but also in relation to media. And yeah, choosing good old Hobie here, because while it was kinda played for humor with him a lot, he was one of the few characters in media I have seen, that are actually kinda a positive representation of anarchism.

You know, media in general misrepresents anarchism all the time. Sometimes for propaganda purposes, and sometimes because the creator does not know any better and has grown up with said propaganda themselves and just believe it. Most of the time, media hence represents Anarchism as "Society without rules!", which is most certainly not what anarchism is.

The word Anarchism comes from the Greek An Arkhos, which translates into "Without Rulers". That is exactly what Anarchism means. Anarchism is a political philosophy that aims to get rid of all unjustified, involuntary hierarchies.

This is, by the way, why Anarcho Capitalism might use the word, but can never be anarchist, because capitalism aims to build unjustifiable hierarchies. It is exactly the goal of the system. So Anarcho Capitalism is a contradiction in itself.

An anarchist society will still have rules. We know that, because there have actually been societies in history, that today we would call anarchist. It is just that instead of a sort of some group of people ruling over everyone else deciding on those rules, everyone would get to have their say in it. That is, why those historical examples of anarchism for the most part have sprung up in smaller, close-nit societies, because before the age of the internet it would've been rather hard to make everyone's voice heard.

If you are wondering: "But isn't democracy already doing that?" The answer is no. Because democracy is not working, due to the politicians having all the power and the populus not being able to force them to stick to whatever they promised during the election. We cannot recall politicians, who have lied to us. So for the most part, it is the people with big money, who influence the politics. People, who were not even elected, but who the politicians will try to please more than the average joe, who has voted for them.

It is another reason, why a lot of anarchists are against the police. Not only do they use police violence, but they are in a position, where they are allowed to use it against people, often without much reprecussions. And all of that, without the people having any say in who does and does not get to be a police(wo)man. It is another unjustified hierarchy.

And, yes, it is also why anarchists tend to be against the concept of nation states. Because internationally some states rule over others. Colonialism might've ended on paper, but it has not ended in practice. The reason some nations are poor, while others are rich, is that the poor nations get exploited by rich nations. An unjustified hierarchy. And that is without starting on the fact how many borders have been drawn by people, who had no right to do so.

On the small scale, though, anarchism first and foremost is about helping people. Mutual aid is one of the core principles of the anarchist movement. Helping people, who got left behind by the unjustified state and the people who are in power. It is also about empowering people and allowing them to find their own voice.

See, here is the fact: One of the core believes in anarchy is, that people are actually not terrible. If the state stopped existing tomorrow, people would not run around, murder and pillage. They would still help one another. We have seen this time and time again when through war or natural catastrophies systems of power have failed. People help each other. Because we are actually a pretty social species.

This is also why I absolutely loathe the depiction we see in a lot of media. Most of all in Legend of Korra. Where not only the Red Lotus, as an anarchist group, does not do jack shit in terms of mutual aid and things like that... We also see basically the Earth Kingdom go to ruins and violence within minutes of the Earth Queen having been killed. Like, no, that is not how people would react in that situation. There would not be instant riots or some shit. Jesus. What made them think that?

And yes, sure. Some anarchists might riot on the streets, because they riot AGAINST the unjust system. But always remember: Usually, when there is police violence for example against a protest, it is your friendly neighborhood anarchist, who will be willing to put themselves between you and the police.

#Solarpunk #anarchism #anti capitalism #anti patriarchy #communism #anarcho communism #fuck the police #media #politics #the legend of korra #spider punk #astv hobie

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calisources · 1 month

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𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this meme have been taking from different media and sources. They all touch on the topics of romance, difficult and forbidden love, mostly setting in the political schemes of war and peace and royal court. Change names, locations and nouns and you see fit. Some lines might have foul language.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

Could someone treat you badly and still love you?

Even so, in the midst of this complicated love, there is a holy union.

Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

I hated him now because I has loved him then.

I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless.

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?

Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I'm an heir to the fucking throne?

You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family.

She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

Your wish is my command, my queen.

You can always leave my service.

Don’t you see, Diana? If I did that, I’d break not one but two hearts. For I know you love me, though you haven’t said it yet.

You do know me. I love you so much, it sometimes terrifies me.

You are going to regret that, Your Magical Regalness.

Just because I am a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale.

So kiss the others for all I care, but don’t hold back with me.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.

I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king.

Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.

There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.

You can't treat royalty like people with normal perverted desires.

We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man.

You're the most important person I've ever met. And I should have never met you at all.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am.

It's almost impossible for those who have had an intimate relationship to return to a formal one.

I question if within you is any magic.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

For kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

A king deserves reverence when being addressed.

Yes, she had abused her title and station before, but for minor stuff, not to steal a warship.

You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.

When God calls you into His Kingdom, your way of life will reflect royalty if you serve Him with loyalty.

My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

I have to be seen to be believed.

Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.

That is your very own myth. The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.

I know that names have power. That is why I cannot let her forget hers.

You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.

A bad king revels in his importance. A good one hates his office.

Crowns belong to those that serve.

She was their witch queen, and they adored her.

Beatrice is going to be queen someday.

Kings are only kings because one ancestor was quicker than another to place a crown on his own head.

Queen, do not allow a commoner to dethrone you. Own that throne. You are royalty.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

My mother once told me that everything is fuelled by either money or sex, because both lead to power.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

She holds a nation’s fate within her shaking hands. She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky.

Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.

Climb up the family tree of any of them high enough and you’ll find a commoner who dared to take a chance.

Am I forbidden to do what all may do?

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?

If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me.

I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more.

Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

I may not be a king or a queen, but I'll be damned if I'm not treated like royalty.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

Men only treat women like princesses when they want to use them like prostitutes.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to be friends.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for your touch.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #political scheme #royal schemes #royal betrayal #romantic heartbreak

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max1461 · 6 months

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I will reiterate again my views on private property, for those who have not heard them:

Property is a legal construct, by which an individual is recognized by the state as having essentially unilateral authority over some bundle of resources, and whereby this control is enforced by the state at the behest of the individual using the state's monopoly on violence.

Right-libertarians view the right to private property as a fundamental individual liberty that must be respected any just state, akin to freedom of speech. However, I believe this view is incorrect. At the most basic level, the difference is that freedom of speech puts restrictions on what the state may do—it may not arrest us for what we say. On the other hand, the "right to property" demands an enormous amount of active interference by the state in everyday life—to decide who is the legitimate owner of what, and thereby who may use what and step where, what is trespassing or copyright infringement and what is not. It demands that if you use the wrong resources in the wrong way, resources not recognized as yours, you must be jailed. It demands a constant management by the state of exactly who is using what where. Far from being the actions of a "small government", a pervasive system of private property is a status quo that can only be maintained by an extraordinarily large and everywhere-reaching government.

This difference needn't mean that private property is bad. In fact, I don't think it is in general bad! But I also don't think it is in general good, or in general conducive to the ideal of individual liberty and autonomy.

In our present society, private property serves a variety of social functions that I think are very positive. For instance, private ownership (or something basically akin to private ownership) of one's home provides them with certain guarantees of privacy and autonomy within their own living space that I think are vital in any free society. At the same time, when a home's resident is not its owner, as in the case where a home is owned by a landlord, the right to property is instead an obstacle to these basic individual liberties.

Furthermore, I think that owning a very large amount of property makes one a kind of de facto autocrat, backed by state force in the exercise of their own private whims. As goes the old quip: who has more control over your life, the president, or your boss? And which one is democratically elected?

The truth is that we almost all spend the majority of our waking lives within the workplace, a domain ruled autocratically by an unelected, unaccountable authority. Yes, we each have the meager freedom to choose which autocratic authority to submit to, or to submit to none and starve on the street. But this is not freedom in any sane sense. And I think the notion that we live in a free society when the majority of most of our lives are spent in submission to the arbitrary whims of state backed authority is ridiculous.

Does this mean that I think private property should be replaced with nothing? That all rivalrous resources should be allocated by first-come first-serve, or according to who can guard them by exercise of the most individual force? No, of course not! Rather, I merely think property as it exists today is something of an arbitrary system, an accretion of history, steered at every turn by the powerful to guard their own interests. I would like to see a wholesale reworking of the way that resources and their use are coordinated by society—this time, engineered from the ground up specifically to empower the greatest number of people with the greatest amount of personal autonomy. I think anyone who defends the present system of property against such efforts has no business calling themselves "libertarian".

This is no simple project, and though I have many ideas (which you can find by perusing my posts), I am almost certainly not equipped with the full set of skills necessary to envision an ideal system. This is a project which must be approached at the same time with a technical eye towards economic issues and a humanistic eye towards the broader effects of the new system on people and their wellbeing. I am, as always, interested in talking with anyone who can contribute towards a vision of better system.

#society

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mask131 · 3 months

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I have a question about Zeus and Kronos. SEVERAL actually. Their relationship gets more confusing the far you dig into it.

How did the ancient Greeks see their relationship? How did they see the whole conflict between the Gods and the Titans?

In modern works, Kronos and the Titans are almost always portrayed as evil, monstrous tyrants, and Zeus and the Olympians as the young heroes that bring them down.

However, in Greek Mythology, Kronos' reign was the Golden Age, an utopic and paradisiac time of peace, happiness and prosperity, and Zeus is the main responsible for bringing pain, disease, and death to humankind through Pandora.

And to make matters more confusing, patricide was a huge sin in ancient Greek culture.

Was Zeus and Kronos' story a heroic tale of order overcoming chaos, or a tragic "Paradise Lost" type of scenario? Is Zeus a hero for deposing his father, or fallen hero that only escaped divine retribution because he himself is a god? Who was in the right in the conflict between Olympians and Titans? How am I supposed to interpret Hesiod's Theogony?

This is a very complex question that opens the door to many, many possibilities. But long story short: in the Olympians vs Titans conflict, the Titans were definitively in the wrong, and yes we are supposed to root for the Olympians.

Remember, the Olympians are supposed to be the "big goods" of Greek mythology - or at least, mostly positive figures. The enemies of the Olympians are by extension our enemies because the Olympians represent order and civilization. The Gigantomachy is the best representation of that, as the Giants were literaly designed to kill and destroy and nothing else. Same thing with Typhon, chaos and terror embodied.

Now what was the problem with the Titans? Long story short, many things. But what we have to understand is that the Titans are being supposed to represent... yes chaos in a way, but also a more brutal, primitive form of the universe. Yes the Titans are gods like the Olympians - but they are not the same kind of gods. Older, rougher. For example take the Olympians - they are kings and queens over the principles they control. Poseidon rules over the sea but is not the sea ; Zeus' decisions control the weather but he is not the weather. When we go by the Titans, however, we have beings such as Helios who was the literal sun or Oceanos who was the literal ocean. The Titans reflect the primal forces of nature, the rough and brutal, less humanized elements, more personifications and embodiments than deities as we understand them today. So what was the object and purpose of the Titanomachy? The "taming" and ordering of the world. Some Titans sided with the Olympians, and thus became more human and more "ordered" and found a place for themselves within an organized world. Themis for example, who as the embodiment of the Law and of Justice, would of course choose the Olympians' side. Also note that, outside of Themis, none of the Titans reflected any concept or principle part of a civilization. The Titans were violence (Iapetos whose name means "piercer", and Kronos who castrated his own father), the Titans were animals (many are the titans with strong animal motifs), the Titans were the sea and the moon and the sun and the light and the earth... They were literaly born out of the sky and earth. But what came with the Olympians? When Zeus got onto the throne, he started creating new gods through his many marriages and alliances: he brought forth Apollo of the art, Athena of wisdom and peace, Artemis of the hunt of the wild, Hermes of all the sciences, and the Horai, and the Muses, and sometimes even the Moirai themselves. Zeus organized the world and brought many of the concepts we cherish so much today.

Not only was the problem with the Titans that they were primordial and brutal forces of nature, but the problem with the specific Titans that went at war against the gods is that they literaly refused to let fate be and time pass. Kronos' flaw and fault is the most common of all mythology: fighting an oracle, trying to destroy a prediction, trying to avoid his fate. He was foretold he would be overthrown by his son. Not destroyed, not mutilated, certainly not killed (because gods cannot die, they are immortal), but just overthrown. And he refused this. He refused to have his throne taken away from him - he refused to let generations change, to let youth come. He had obtained his throne for right reasons (he punished the sins of his father) and yet through bad means (mutilating his own father). As such he got the throne but was fated to let it go, and know a "lesser" version of what he had inflicted upon his father. But he refused this.

Not only that, but he actually ended up repeating the mistakes and crimes of his father Ouranos. By not just bringing a stasis, but by literaly causing a regression. Imprisoning back the Cyclops and Hekatoncheires he had set free ; and then swallowing back into his belly the children he brought forth, literaly reversing the natural cycle of time. So Zeus' war against Cronos was justified to allow the world to continue its own maturation, and evolve further. And from a world of brutality, barbary and regression, we reached an age of order and civilization.

Now let's take the second side of the problem - the whole "Ages of Mankind".

It should be recalled that the Ages of Mankind story comes from Hesiod's "Of Works and Days", not from his "Theogony". And "Of Works and Days" is not supposed to just be a cosmogony like the Theogony, but rather a didactic work. It isn't about mythology per se, as the true topic of the work is agriculture, and all sorts of advices on how to take care of your field, woven with philosophical and moralist lessons about the importance of hard work. The mythological story woven in the work is meant to be an illustration of why humanity has to work, and is tied to all sorts of socio-philosophico messages, making it closer to a fable in many ways. It should also be taken into account that the "Ages of Man" story is tied in "Of Works and Days" to the legend of Prometheus, Epimetheus and Pandora. A legend also told in "Theogony"... but with slightly different details. For example, in the Theogony the story is very misogynistic as the curse of Zeus is... literaly women. As in, women are evil, and that's it. The version of "Of Works and Days", slightly less misogynistic, is the one with the famous Pandora jar later turn Pandora 's box, and there the evil is contained within the jar and is all a convoluted plan to force the "clan" of Prometheus to end up cursing the humanity they favored. Hesiod was never afraid of contradicting himself - even within the Theogony you have opposite stories, such as how in one part the Moirai are aughters of Zeus and Themis, in another daughters of Nyx that predated Zeus.

Anyway, all of that being said, I want to point out something important: in the Ages of Man storyline by Hesiod, Zeus is not supposed to be the one that caused the misery of mankind. At least not directly. It is true that the Golden Age and the first humanity is said to have existed/been formed under the rule of Cronos, while the Silver Age, which was a downgrade, occured when Zeus arrived on the throne. But the text does not say that Zeus was the one who caused the downgrade of humanity. There is definitively a change, an evolution, but it doesn't mean it is Zeus that "corrupted" humanity. In fact, the text does say that Zeus kept around the first humanity as powerful spirits to help, guide and enrich the following humanity. And Zeus' "rule" is not all bad, as there is a mention of one of the humanities brought forth under him being the Heroic Age, which is considered one of the best humanities after the Golden Age. The legend isn't actually about Zeus "ruining" humanity in any way, as the message Hesiod tries to give here is rather that humanity is living through a sort of natural decline... Yes, Hesiod was quite pessimistic, and honestly you can hear a bit of the old as time rant "Young people are doing everything bad, the world is getting worst and worst, wasn't it better before?". You can literaly hear Hesiod doing his youth-hating-grandpa-rant through his tale.

Afterward, we have to consider the whole Prometheus-Pandora-Zeus triangle... And this is where things get tricky and dual. Now I can't possibly embrace the full scope of the implications of the Prometheus legend. There is a reason he is such an inspiring and powerful figure even today - and Prometheus is one of the most complicated entities of all of Greek mythology. But here is the thing I wanted to say... Yes Hesiod does say and explain that Zeus created all sorts of evil he inflicted upon humanity because he was unhappy with being deceived by Prometheus. In "Of Works and Days" it is an especially strong point because the entire text is about explaining why humanity has to work so hard, and why labor is needed by humanity, and why if we have benevolent deities we must still be burdened by chores and toil. And in general this is an answer to the very same problem that the Genesis of the Bible poses: Why would a benevolent god inflict us a life of suffering? Why do we have to work to eat and why isn't the superior power providing us, if they love us so much?

In the Biblical text, this is explained by the original sin, and by all this being a punishment for humanity's original flaw. But in the Greek texts we have something very different - as it is inflicted... to punish Prometheus? That's what Hesiod's text tells us and/or implies, by making the equation "Zeus got tricked by Prometheus, he got mad, and as a result he unleashed evils on humanity". This is what led to so many readings of Zeus as some sort of petty tyrant who wounded humanity to just get back at Prometheus. And this is partially true in Hesiod's myth... But not the whole truth. Because Hesiod insists on a very important fact: he stands as both a human speaking to other humans, and thus he cries over the misfortune of humanity and our suffering, and he explains it comes from Zeus and thus it is why it is unescapable... But he also stands as a devout Greek, as a herald of the gods' words, as someone inspired by the Muse - meaning he also has to point out that Zeus was in the right. This is why, when you compile the dual legends in "The Theogony" and "Of Works and Days", you get a very ambiguous Prometheus, more of a anti-villain by Ancient Greeks standards.

For example, the idea that Zeus got mad upon discovering he had been cheated by Prometheus is a misconception when it comes to the Hesiodic text. When you read Hesiod's text in the Theogony, what does it say? It says that Zeus was not fooled by Prometheus' trick, during the partition of the cow (when it was time to decide which part of food ent to the gods, which part went to humanity). No, Zeus, as king of the gods and superior god, is all-knowing and all-seeing, and the text does say he did knew of Prometheus' trick as soon as he laid eyes on the divided cow. He did play along with Prometheus' trick, but he got massively angry - not at being cheated, no... he got angry at the idea that Prometheus had rigged the game, and had tried to deceive him. See this as some sort of betrayal - he entrusted Prometheus with doing a fair share, and he discovers the Titan had rigged the game. Similarly, when Prometheus stole the fire, Zeus got angry because it was a theft - a theft opposing his law and decisions, an act of rebellion against his position as a king - and yes he would dislike humanity, because now they literaly had a stolen good that they were not supposed to have. Remember that Zeus is a god of justice whose deal was punishing criminals and enacting the law - so of course, a cheater, a scammer and thief like Prometheus would displease him, especially when he is not just a rebel that opposes Zeus' very rule... but also who threatens the cosmic order.

I said it before - in Ancient Greece everything was about balance ad harmony. Humanity had to be "balanced". And the actions of Prometheus literaly placed humanity out of balance. When the partiton of food came, Prometheus rigged the game so that humanity would have the best part. As a result, Zeus had to inflict an "handicap", a "flaw" to humanity so that they wouldn't be too overpowered. This was the removal of the fire. But then Prometheus stole the fire back, making humanity over-powered again. And so Zeus decided to bring the ultimate "handicap", the ultimate "flaw", the ultimate "evil" that would never go away... Because that's another thing with this legend. Zeus never takes away what had been given by the gods. When the partition of food was done, Zeus did not fight it. Zeus removed the fire yes, but when Prometheus gave it back, he did not remove it again. Once something is gifted, it cannot just be snatched back - again, Zeus respects the laws, the promises, the customs. A choice is a choice, a gift is a gift. Which is why, to weaken humanity, Zeus had to GIVE something instead of remove it. And this gift was A) in Theogony, Pandora. Because the Theogony's misogynistic take on the Pandora myth is that SHE was evil because women are by nature evil and ruin humanity. B) in Of Works and Days, the gift of the jar containing all the evils and misfortunes. Which, as I said, was a clever plan to have Prometheus' own family balance his over-powering of humanity by having THEM bring upon humanity something bad. As a way to even things out. When Hesiod evokes the person that brought misfortune upon humanity, when he describes the source of all the evils mankind has to suffer through, he doesn't speak of Zeus... He speaks of Epimetheus. Or of Pandora. But not Zeus. Zeus isn't the "culprit" in Hesiod's texts - rather it is either Pandora (for, misogynistic time, women are inherently curious and curiosity - and women in general - is evil), or Epimetheus (for being a dummy who gets seduced by pretty appearances, doesn't think of anything before acting, accepts any shining gift and is too naive for his own good, trusting both his enemies and the people he doesn't know). Oh yes, the human in Hesiod will cry and lament that Zeus is persecuting humanity... But he will make it clear it was the fault of Prometheus and Epimetheus (Pandora doesn't get much of the "culprit" treatment" because she is either seen as A, the evil Epimetheus brought into the world, B, just a tool and extension of Zeus' own will, and so not an actual "culprit").

The final piece of the puzzle that allows us to understand a bit more the tale of Hesiod is that we have to recall what was the worst crime ever in Ancient Greece. Hubris: for humanity to believe itself equal or above the gods. This was the manifestation of the Greeks' immense fear of unbalance and disharmony, when the low humans tried and believed themselves to be above their natural condition, about to rival with the immortals who were perfect in body and mind (well... absolutely perfect in the religion, much more flawed in the myths and literary works). And all the actions of Prometheus worked on bringing forward humanity close to hubris. By giving them a food better than the gods', by leaving them the full mastery of fire - especially since at the time it was the early humanity, the "golden age", those long-lived, happy, careless, ageless humans that were basically Tolkien's elves - Prometheus was literaly building rivals for the gods. Remember that what Prometheus did was seen as an act of rebellion and disobediance towards Zeus' order, ruling and position... Betrayal of his king, so to speak. Zeus had to inflict on humanity something so that they wouldn't get too overpowered or too similar to gods - he had to inflict on them something that would remind them that they were mortals, not gods, and that the world did not belong to them.

And THIS is where the "Silver Age" problems come from. As I said before, when Hesiod uses Cronos and Zeus to evoke the Golden and Silver Age, he uses them more as chronological markings than anything. By making the Golden Age Cronus' era, Hesiod places this humanity in the far, far, far away distant past, in a time beyond what is mythical - in a time before the actual organized time of the gods people knew, before what humans understood of humanity. And Hesiod insists in his texts that the ills and the worries brought by either Pandora's presence among humanity (Thegony) or by the jar of Pandora (Of Works and Days) are what caused humanity's downfall as they started aging, and falling sick, and losing their happiness, and living shorter... So long story short, it isn't because Zeus became king of the gods that the Golden Age became the Silver Age. It is rather because of the chain of events started by Prometheus - it is because of all the punishments Zeus had to took against the rebellious and cheating Prometheus that the original humanity became another. So... while yes, Zeus did send the evil, the texts of Hesiod also make it clear it is kind of Prometheus' fault. Hence the anti-villain status: yes he tried to favorite and help humanity, and thus is our hero... But he also tried to destroy the order of the world and is the reason we were cursed in the first place, so he is still a villain. Mind you, in the times after Hesiod the Greeks would come to gain a much more positive view of Prometheus - but I am focusing here only on Hesiod since it is what the question is about.

The best metaphor I would have would be : all those incidents we have today when we favorize and protect one species in an ecosystem because it is "cute"... and by doing so, we ruin the entire ecosystem. This is literaly what Prometheus did, as the trickster-rebel, and what Zeus had to fight as the god of order and balance. (And again, we have an Hesiod that is literaly doing grandpa rants about how the "good ol' times" were better and the "youth today is crap", so of course he would offer us a myth where the established order and ruling monarchy is praised, while the rebellious opposition is demonized... with the nuance that the rebellious opposition protected us humans, and thus we have this very ambiguous territory.) It is no wonder that in modern fiction dealing with Prometheus, a question arises that was first brought forward by commentators of Greek myths: did Prometheus act out of excessive love for humanity, or more to get at Zeus? Both options are possible: in "The God Beneath the Sea" for example Prometheus is this tragic figure of someone who loved too much humanity and tried to protect it at all costs... But in the French novel "Prometheus the revolted" by Janine Teisson, he is more presented as a cunning, exploitative schemer that uses humanity as a tool to discreetly try to get back at Zeus, because while he sided with him, he could never fully accept his new king due to his older Titan alliegeance. Which interpret is correct? We can't tell, because the older record is just very ambiguous...

As a final, final note, we have to bring in more "outside-the-text" context to the whole situation. Because these stories were told within a society that had an established hierarchy, an established religion and established morals differing from our own, hence why we can lack some key information to get the nuance. For example, in "Of Works and Days", Hesiod cries and laments about one of the punishments of Zeus against humanity - hiding the grain of plants below the earth, and forcing humans to work to grow their crops and their food. A punishment which is nuanced when you remember something from Greek religion that the text does not speak about: Zeus was one of the favorite gods of farmers and crop-growers, and seen as their ally, because he was a god of fertility and agriculture. Zeus was the god of weather - but of good, fertile, helpful weather. Zeus sent the fertile rain that made the plants grow and the earth alive ; and he also sent all the sunlight needed for fruits to mature and plants to be healthy. This was in fact part of his dicotomy with Hades - Hades kept the grain under the earth to protect it, and then Zeus helped it grow into a plant above the soil. (And yes, this is tied to the Persephone legend in some ways). When you know that, you realize that Zeus might have cursed humans with having to work hard and search hard for their food... But he also clearly helps them to do so by sending the weather needed for the crop to grow well.

Just like how he is said to destroy the various humanities of the Ages of Man one by one to punish them or due to other incidents... But he then grants them some pretty sweet things. Like how the Golden Age humans became Greek-equivalent of guardian angels, benevolent semi-divine entities, or how the men of the Silver Age were said to be among the "Blessed" in the afterlife, and supposedly to dwell in some sort of paradise...

Of course the issue is infinitely more complex, and there's entire books written about this, so this is just a fragment of synthesis. But to return to the original question... Cronos, and the other Titans, were not at fault for oppressing humanity or being tyrants, no. From what Hesiod gives us to read, the Titans in fact had nothing to do or didn't care about humanity in the first place - since before Zeus' time we have no record of any god mingling with humans. We'd have to wait for the Olympians for humanity to become "interestng" or even "desirable" in the yes of the gods. No, Kronos' true crime was a cosmic one. The Titans had to be overthrown because they refused the natural flow of time and the natural evolution of the world, because they repeated the same oppression they had delivered the world from (Ouranos'), because they had enforced a stagnation and even a regression, perfectly symbolized by the image of the father swallowing the babies as soon as they are out of their mother's belly. The gods do grow - but they grow trapped within their father's stomach in a perverse, reverse pregnancy, and in a mirror of how Ouranos' lust also prevented life from spreading forth into the world. And we'd have to wait for Zeus to force a new "birth", through making his father vomit, for the gods to finally be able to accomplish their purpose in life - change the world and make the universe go forward...

As a final note, and I think this is something Jean-Pierre Vernant said (but a lot of what I said above comes from Jean-Pierre Vernant): Zeus overthrowing Cronos is a symbol of the rule of brute strength and violent tyranny being stopped. How did Cronos reached the throne? By castrating his father. How did he maintain his rule? By imprisoning his siblings and devouring his own children. What happened when he was challenged? A cosmic war. And Cronos ruled alone as sole king over the universe. But when Zeus came into the world... He was first of the gods, yes, but he still shared the world with his brothers, so that there were three "kings of the world". His first instinct was to ave sex once he was king, yes, but he didn't just "have sex". He symbolically or officially married the most important goddesses (Themis, the Law/Justice, Mnemosyne, Memory, Metis, Prudence/Wisdom) to bring forth the embodiments of order and peace: the Horai, the Charites, the Muses, the Moirai, Athena... And, unlike Cronos who had imprisoned his siblings as soon as he was king, Zeus accepted and rewarded his allies among the Titans, making entities such as Themis, Helios or Hecate first-rank deities in the new pantheon. AND, while he did overthrow his father, it was in the result of a long war, without any brutal mutilation, and what he merely did was imprison him - and perhaps even latter forgave him and released him according to some stories. So we are definitively into a much better rule than the predecessor.

#greek mythology #greek gods #titans #hesiod #zeus #prometheus #pandora #the ages of man #the ages of humanity #the golden age #greek myths #kronos #cronus

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fictionalmenplz · 7 months

Text

Never In A Thousand Years

Summary: Camille, younger sister to princess Gisla of France, you thought you would have time to choose a suitor but once your sister is married to the wild Viking Rollo, your father wishes to speed up the process and Rollo comes up with an idea that could possibly join the two kingdoms...

This will have more than one chapter I don't know how many yet I will probably come up with that as I go but expect more than five so far. This will also contain smut but in a few chapters so be patient. 😉

Warnings: violence, language, arranged marriage.

Chapter 1

I was not opposed to marrying a Viking, though Rollo had set my standards high by converting his religion, and dedicating his life to Paris. I knew I would struggle to find a man as good as he turned out to be, but I did not know I would have to marry such a vile man.

The conversation arose one month ago during dinner, everything was normal, Gisla was smitten and father was proud of his judgement, he must have thought himself to be a matchmaker of some sort when he came up with this brilliant sentence; "Gisla, as a woman I'm sure you have needs."

I could have spat my wine in his face to such a statement, how dare he say that, I was doing well on my own thank you. I would then go on to say, "Why do you ask father?" (I am much better at keeping my temper than Gisla.)

"Well, you are near twenty and have not had as much as one suitor that you are interested in," he started and I quirked a brow, insisting he go on. "don't you want a husband?"

"Father," Gisla interrupted and gave me a shocked look. He put his hands up in defense, "I just want my last heir to be happy." I scoffed, "And I assure you I am." I put down my fork and stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me-"

"You are not excused, please sit down." Father said, my mouth hung open and I stood there for a moment, before slowly lowering myself onto the hard wooden chair.

"Forgive me, if this suggestion is wrong but, what if Camille, were to marry one of my nephews?" Rollo questioned from his high horse, who on earth do these men think they are? My father raised his eyebrows and nodded his head.

"That is not an awful idea Rollo." He says and taps his chin, "of course you remember Hvitserk, Camille." The third born child of Ragnar Lothbrok. "He came to request Aid from Rollo-"

"Yes, I remember him." I said through gritted teeth, the boy was just as stubborn as a mule and flirtatious, he acted like a child when he reaches maturity and sees his first woman.

"No, my king, he would not be a good suit for Camille." Rollo said and shook his head. My father turned his head in curiosity, "Then who, pray tell, would be?" Rollo smirked, twirling his fork in his fingers and glancing up at me. "Ivar."

My eyes widened and I shot Rollo a fierce look, "Never, that man is pure evil!" I shouted, father silenced me and took Rollo's suggestion into great consideration. No more than a week later Ivar showed up at the gates.

How he got here so quickly I have no idea, but he stayed for longer. Him and his chosen men occupied the great hall with boisterous dinners and rambunctious games, he had yet won me over, to say the least.

A couple times he had shown up at my chamber step, requesting entrance so we could talk and he could get to know me better, but I had denied many times, all but one.

It was a month before today, our wedding day. He came walking to my room, no crutch, only with the help of his braces which impressed me. He said the same thing as always.

"Hello Camille," he'd give me a longing look, "I was hoping you would let me in tonight." His french was getting very good, I hesitated for a moment and looked him up and down, pulling my robe closer and nodding my head.

"You may come in, Ivar." I said politely and he stepped in as I turned and walked to my balcony. His eyes wandered over my room, my bed, and then slowly up me.

He followed me to the balcony, leaning in the doorway as I rested my hands on the railing, I felt his eyes on me. I will my cheeks to keep their normal color, but his glowing blue eyes make it hard for me to not blush and I look at him angrily.

"What do you want Viking." I pestered and his eyes widened, "I only wanted you to know how beautiful you are," he stated and his lips kept slightly parted. I rolled my eyes, straightening my back and fixing my gaze at the town below us.

"I think you are even more beautiful than Freya." He added, I did not know a lot about the Norsemen's beliefs but I believe Freya was important when it came to how he compared me to her.

"Your words do not fool me." I replied blankly and narrowed my eyes at the moon. He stared confusedly at me for a moment, blinking and trying to piece together the foreign words I had used.

He shook his head, slightly jumping on his braces as he adjusted his stance and hummed for a moment. He lifted a hand and waved a finger, "I only know so much of your language,"

My face contorted in confusion this time and I turned to look at him, "And I will try my hardest to be a good husband to you." He shuffled closer, hesitantly placing a shaky but firm hand on top of mine.

"When we are wed, I will never force anything on you." His face was certain and I could tell he was being truthful, my expression softened my lips tightened together in a sort of awkward smile as I nodded my head.

I took him to my desk, pulling out parchment and pencils. I taught him many words and phrases, and he in return did the same. I learned a chant that many shield maidens call out before wars, and I learned of his triumph against a town called York.

I was impressed to learn that my future husbands victories were earned with his smarts and not his savageness. Eventually the conversation lingered to his legs, he quieted as he spoke and he knocked on the metal braces.

His face would twitch in pain at moments he adjusted to be able to sit more comfortably, my eyebrows twisted in worry as I watched him struggle and I interrupted his sentence.

"Is there a way I might help you? Or ease the pain?" My hand found its way onto his and his head snapped up from the desk, a shocked look as he swallowed, glancing at the braces and then nodding.

"it will only extend my time being here," he said, almost expecting me to immediately change my mind but I persisted and finally got him to seat himself on my bed.

He leaned on the back board and extended one leg, "Please, be careful." He said as he guided my hands onto several latches and knobs that I had to pry and twist.

I finished the first leg and he grunted in pain as it pinched his leg as it opened, I quickly moved the metal aside so his legs could rest comfortably and I finished with the left leg suit.

He leaned forward, rubbing his hands gently over his thighs and calves over his rough pants. I hovered my hands over the other leg, waiting for approval and then putting my hands to work.

I sat next to his legs, my legs folded together modestly in my robe so my slip would not show. After a few minutes he stopped, and I followed. He leaned his head on the back board, sighing and flicking his eyes towards me.

I smiled at him, his lips curling back at me in a sort of childlike smile. We sat there staring at each other for a moment, his hands fidgeting with his straps on his clothes and before I knew it his hands were on my neck.

Not in a demanding, grabby way, in a soft and wanting manner and his lips pressed mine as I leaned in. His nose brushed against mine I smiled against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck as his fell to my waist and he laid me down on my back, laying on top of me and not breaking our kiss.

His hands now traveled up my clothed sides, gripping at the soft material as though he wished it to be my flesh. He bit down on my lip, causing me to grunt and part my lips, allowing his tongue to be pushed inside to explore my mouth.

I tugged at his leather straps over his chest, it puzzled me why Vikings wore such tough material all the time. I kissed him back hungrily, holding my eyes shut as I sunk into the bed with his weight on top of me, it was a comforting and incredibly intimate feeling.

Feeling a man's body holding mine down like a weighted blanket, so much warmth being shared between our bodies that I reached for the tie of my robe, tugging it apart and revealing my thin night gown to air to cool me off.

He seemed to notice the absence of my hands as his face parted from mine and his eyes wandered down my body, the low cut neck and silk material hugged my body like a glove that he seemed to appreciate very much.

He bit his lip, gazing over my body and then pinching his eyes shut, pressing his body against mine again and interlocking our lips. One of his hands now gripped my side, rubbing over the silk and then adjusting his kisses to my jaw and my neck.

I tangled my fingers in his braids, tugging them as he sucked at the flesh of my neck feverishly and harshly. "Ivar..." I moaned and my back arched into him, suddenly so content in the feeling of his warmth on me, I jolted when he rolled over so abruptly.

I sat up quickly, watching as he crawled to his braces on the floor, an angry look on his face as he laid his leg on top. I quickly sat next to him, "let me help-" I tried but was met with his hand on my chest, pushing me away and a firm no shot from his lips.

I stared for a second in shock, waiting for a look or an apology but when he kept his eyes trained on his legs I stood, tying my robe again and sitting on my bed against the back board with my legs tucked to my chest.

I sat there and watched as he snapped the braces onto his legs, it hurt me to see him in so much pain as he rushed it but I knew if I tried to help him again he would push me away.

He hauled himself to his feet and strode out of my room, leaving me sniveling and tucking under my covers, trying to forget the new found bad memory.

That was last night, and today, on top of those frustrating feelings, I was supposed to leave my home forever.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #pagan #norse mythology #fanfiction #smut #paris #ragnar lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson

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in-a-mountain-pool · 10 months

Text

Supermassive Black Hole Ch3

Ettore x Reader

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: Explicit/18+

warnings: NSFW/minors DNI, mutual masturbation, smut, mentions of violence

word count: ~5500

summary: A cosmic event brings Ettore and Y/N closer together, and it’s only a matter of time before the two collide.

A/N: This was a whopper of a chapter! I’ve not written smut in ages so I found writing this a bit of a challenge! I hope the wait was worth it... Beautiful space theme borders by saradika. As always, comments, likes and reblogs aren’t needed, but always lovely to come online to!

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Masterlist

In the days that followed, Monte had hardly even looked at Y/N. Every mealtime the canteen would be bustling with the crew and inmates, but suddenly Monte was a no show.

It was their evening mealtime, and Ettore was standing in the queue watching her over his shoulder as she sat there alone. He’d watched her do the same thing for three days now, sitting there with a plate ready for Monte, and beside her an empty chair.

The arsehole was avoiding her like a soppy schoolkid.

Even to him it seemed unnecessarily cold. The concentrated way that she’d bite at her plush bottom lip, the way she tapped her foot nervously against the linoleum floor almost made him angry for her. Since her last run in with Monte she’d taken to sitting alone in the rec room with a cheap pair of headphones in her ears listening to music, which were now slung loose around her neck.

Without Monte, it seemed her existence was to be a lonely one.

This was it. This was the perfect chance for him to make a move, ingratiate himself to her and reel her in. It had become more than just about fucking her. More than anything Ettore wanted her to choose him over Monte.

He wanted her to want him just as much as he had craved her attentions.

And when it did inevitably happen, he wanted her to beg and scrape for him just as much as she did for Monte. But he would make sure she got what she deserved and more, whether she wanted it or not.

Yet, in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think about how much it upset him to see her so lonely like that. She was nice. She was truly sweet. She didn’t seem to belong in a place like this. She didn’t seem that well equipped to deal with the sort of people here either.

The sort of person he was.

He’d wanted to take advantage of her. Afterall, it wouldn’t be that hard. Her innocence only made him want her more and more. But could he really go through with it when the time came? Could he force someone like her when push came to shove?

He was shaken from his reverie when a tray was shoved into his hands, almost spilling the cup of processed water all over his front. Before his mind could keep up with his body, he was already making his way over to her table, taking a seat in the chair opposite Y/N.

“This seat taken?” He smirked, gesturing at the tray she’d brought for Monte, laying cold and untouched. When she shrugs and avoids his gaze, he can’t help but prod.

“A simple yes or no would have been enough, princess.”

He haphazardly chucks his tray onto the table and skims is his eyes over her. “Got a bra on today, I see? Shame. I’d gotten used to seeing those tits of yours.”

When she almost drops her cutlery and scowls up at him, he raises his hands up in a mock surrender and giggles with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Am jokin’, am jokin’. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.” With a sly grin he winks at her and digs into his meal, talking with his mouth full.

“So, what’s his name is a no-show again eh’?”

She eyes him warily sighing as she starts to drink the water she’d brought for Monte.

“… No. ‘What’s his name’ is avoiding me like the plague. You’d honestly think I’d killed someone or something.”

Now this was something he was very intrigued by. He used to like to guess exactly what it was that each inmate had done, but to him she was a blank slate. He raises an eyebrow at this and quirks his lips upwards with a teasing lilt to his voice, “Well, did you?”

Y/N gives him a lopsided smile and shakes her head, refusing to say a word and shoving the extra tray towards him playfully.

God she was a mystery to him.

“Eat up. It’ll only go to waste if you don’t. So… Why you are you sat here with me today?”

Her voice drops to a nervous whisper as she leans over the table slightly, pretending to hand him the salt. “You’re not gonna try to blackmail me for breaking the rules with Monte, are you?”

His blue eyes flash to hers intensely for a moment before he shoots her a smug smile, pursing his lips and sucking his teeth as he rakes his eyes over her.

“Now why would I do that? We said it would be our secret, didn’t we? And I never break a promise. Especially not when there’s a pretty girl on the line.”

He starts to wolf down Monte’s dinner with a wide grin on his face, manners long forgotten. “Nah… I just wanted to check in, make sure that you weren’t losing your mind over that loser.”

She sips her water and eyes him over the rim of the plastic cup before she replies with a small cheeky, and not all too convincing smile. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m a big girl trust me.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I’ve always thought he was a jumped-up twat, and you deserve better.”

He decides to make small talk as he chews on a rather dry piece of bread, and points to her headphones with an impish look in his eyes. “Wotcha listening to? Let me guess, some Taylor Swift tunes about how much you hate your boyfriend and how he’s ruined your life?”

She doesn’t take the bait, and just shakes her head softly. When she silently takes an earphone and offers it out to him he’s taken aback by her openness. Her fingers brush against his palm for only a moment and he can hardly ignore the sharp, warm feeling inside his chest.

He hadn’t been touched by anyone in weeks, except for in acts of violence, but here she was, gentle and unassuming, being kind to him of all people.

Ettore lifts the headphone to his ear and can only smirk, his eyes wide with surprise when he hears the music playing.

“Oh… classical music, is it? So, you’re one of those rich snobby girls then?”

She shakes her head in disbelief and bites her lip smiling at him. “I’m hardly a posh girl, and definitely not rich. It’s just- nice and calming to listen to in a place like this…” She trails off for a moment before her eyes flash with a look of mischief. “I’m terribly sorry to ruin whatever weird fantasy of me you have rolling around that head of yours.”

With a cheeky laugh he passes the headphone back to her with the same gentleness she’d shown him earlier, resting it back around her neck, his finger catching on a lock of her hair as he does so.

It was nice to touch her. Even nicer to be touched by her.

Ettore coughs awkwardly and licks his lip trying to recover himself. “So… I can’t imagine you as a Catholic school girl, then? With one of those little, short skirts and the knee-high socks, anymore? You’re breaking my heart, Y/N.”

The sweet sound she makes as she laughs does something to him, and for a moment all he can picture is her smile and the way she gazed at Monte that morning just a week before in the canteen.

But this time it was him who’d made her laugh.

This time she was here, eating dinner with him.

Y/N shakes her head at him in disapproval, a bashful look on her face as she picks up their trays and makes ready to leave. “You need to get your head checked out, Ettore.”

Don’t go yet, he thinks to himself.

“I bet you were clever though.” The words leave his mouth before he can even process his thoughts.

He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to make this last longer, if only for a minute.

“I bet you were a real nerd at school. I’d probably have stolen your lunch money, wouldn’t I?”

That sound again.

She lets out a small giggle, shaking her head at him as she walks away from him, walking backwards so she can face him. “Again, not posh enough for that!”

And just like that, she was gone again.

Ettore exhaled deeply looked down at the empty space in front of him intensely, tapping his finger on the side of the steel table, as he other gripped the side so hard his knuckles turned white.

Why was he being so fucking needy?

He tries to shake the stupid grin off his face for just being near her. He tries to ignore that feeling in his gut, that deep immense feeling of want as she touched his hand.

Why on earth was he making jokes about Catholic school girls and Taylor Swift!?

Just how long could he wait until he just he just took her?

Why the fuck hadn’t he already?!

He didn’t give a shit about Monte, and he wasn’t scared of him, not by a long shot. He was going to have to take her tonight. No more games of cat and mouse. He was the predator, and she was the prey.

And that was that.

But then his agitated movements stopped altogether at once, his breath catching in his throat and his chest tightening almost painfully as his eyes flickered down, the light catching something on his arm… for there on the sleeve of his sweater was a strand of her hair.

And all he can think of is the content of her smile.

The night that follows was a restless one, and not only for thoughts of her.

He’d lain for hours staring at the ceiling twirling the lock of her hair gently between his fingers and agonising over her before he’d finally been able to fall asleep.

But not for long.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

The stark blue lighting of ship flickered on and off intermittently, leaving the corridors veiled in darkness before the sound of a shrill alarm startled him awake suddenly. The guards stormed into their cell block ordering them loudly to line up outside their rooms.

Tcherney and Monte were already outside by the time Ettore had stumbled out of his cell. With no time to grab a shirt or shoes, he’d slumped against the wall with only his grey sweatpants slung low on his slim hips. He squinted his eyes at the harsh blue lights in the corridor as Dr Dibs walked hurriedly towards their block to address them.

There had been a rare and shifting phenomenon. The black hole they were orbiting, or the ‘corona’, as she had called it, was emitting X-ray flares. The X-rays released had disrupted the ships generators, meaning conservation of power was of the utmost importance to ensure their experiments could continue. Only half of the ship could be powered for the foreseeable future, meaning the men’s cell block was to be shut down, and the male inmates were to temporarily share with the women.

They filed out towards the women’s cell block, the guards tired and pushing them forward impatiently as Dr Dibs assigned the rooms out loud, struggling to be heard over the piercing sound of the alarms. Boyse was to share with Tcherney, Dr Dibs would take Monte to the labs to assist with monitoring their life support systems, and, to his utter delight, Y/N would bunk with him.

Ettore couldn’t help but lock eyes with Monte at hearing this. He was, in a word, seething, his hand curling into a tight fist at his side and his nostrils flaring as he glared right back at him.

That’s right prick, she’s mine.

A sneering grin painted Ettore’s face. He childishly wiggled his eyebrows at him suggestively as he strolled into Y/N’s cell, accidentally shoulder checking Monte on his way past.

And there she was.

But then his smirk faltered when he finally saw her.

Y/N was laying down on her side upon the bottom bunk, curled up into a little ball. She looked so small and fragile, draped in an oversized shirt (her own this time), with a skimpy pair of shorts peeking out from beneath.

That chestnut brown hair of hers was fanned out on the pillow beneath her, making that now all too familiar ache in his chest return once again as he tried to compose himself. When she speaks, her green eyes search his nervously, her soft voice almost impossible to make out against the alarms.

“Should we be worried…? Are we going to be safe? Dibs- she said they were closing off half of the ship to keep up the life support systems... Has this happened before?”

She was frightened.

A wave of protectiveness hits him as he tentatively sits on the side of her bunk, watching her like a hawk as if he was afraid one false movement would scare her off completely.

His voice comes out hoarse and intense, and for a moment he’s worried that she’ll be afraid of him.

She should be afraid of him.

“… Don’t worry, this shit happens all of the time. The ship is an old heap of junk. Trust me, I’ve seen it all and this… this is fine. We’ll be fine.”

Y/N gazes up at him wide eyed with a look of pure trust, and once again he’s struck with a deep agonising pang of guilt in his chest.

He was a monster.

He was a monster for even thinking about wanting to hurt her, for wanting to force her when she was such a sweet and delicate thing.

She trusted him. He’d ruin her. And he knew it.

The alarms finally stop and a deep quiet fills the cell block as the inmates start to fall asleep. She doesn’t say anything to him, just nods slowly and her eyes flicker down to the bed as she turns over to face the wall.

Ettore is on autopilot when he climbs onto the top bunk, laying there so close to her and yet so far away that he can hardly breath. He lies back with his forearm covering his face and his eyes screwed shut, trying more than anything to focus on sleeping.

All he can see is her, her body, her eyes.

The conflict inside his head is almost as loud as the alarms before, his thoughts echoing loudly in his ears as he tossed and turned. He could have been there for seconds, minutes, hours, he wasn’t sure.

All he felt was the need to be with her.

The deep want to know her better than Monte ever could.

The desire to have her and the perverted thoughts he’d wanted to act upon now that he was alone with her.

But all of this was silenced when she finally speaks again.

“Th-…Thank you. For being nice to me… You cheered me up today. You even made me laugh.”

His eyes flicker open in surprise, as he sits up absorbing her words and nervously biting the inside of his cheek.

There was a mirror opposite them at the end of the bunk bed, and in the dark blue light of the room he could just about make out her form.

And there she was, doing exactly the same as him, sat cross-legged and staring up at his reflection pensively, nervously picking at the nail bed of her thumb.

“… You… you don’t really talk to anyone here. Except me. Why? And… answer honestly, be serious for once.”

Ettore wasn’t sure if it was the fact he was so sleep deprived, so crazed with desire for her, or if it was some side effect of the cosmic event outside, but the words just seemed to flow out of him on their own.

There was no room for hesitation. Not now.

“Well… I talk to you… because I like the way you make me feel. I like… how innocent you are. How soft you look... You’re not like the rest of us. Not like me, anyway.”

And there, just there…. There was something in the way Y/N looked at him in the reflection in front of him that convinced him. He’d felt it every time they’d spoken. He’d seen it in the way her eyes would meet his as they passed by each other outside the box. He seen the way her gaze had lingered on his toned body when he’d entered the room.

She was attracted to him.

Her cheeks were flushed and her lips pouted. It was undeniable.

Her eyes fluttered downwards when his blue eyes flashed to her body, taking in her slim long legs and the delicate trace of her collarbones peeking out from beneath the low collar of her shirt.

In her silence he decides to continue, his voice thick and hoarse, trying hard to think straight as he watches her drinking in the sight of his bare chest once again in the low light of the room, heaving as it feels like all the air in the room has disappeared.

“… Because you're beautiful. Because I think I could make you happy… I could make you feel things you've never felt before. You would never need to ask me.”

He couldn’t help himself as he poured out his want for her all at once, listening to her gasp quietly at his shameless confession.

He watched transfixed as she licked her lip nervously, her doe eyes flitting from his body to the sheet beneath her over and over, thoughts racing through her mind.

“We won’t get this chance again. Just one night. No strings. I can make you forget about him. I promise.” He whispers, his voice gravelly and deep.

Her small voice comes out broken and shy against the darkness of the room. “Dibs… she said we couldn’t touch each other… and there’s Monte… and-” He cuts her off in desperation.

“Look… If you don't want me to touch you, I won't… But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy tonight. I can still keep you warm, help you relax. Just let me.”

Ettore’s toned torso shone in the blue light of the room, and he could feel her watching as his hand brushed down against the soft blonde hair that spread below his navel.

His icy blue eyes are fixed onto hers in the mirror, as ever so slowly he reaches down to caress the growing outline of his length in his trousers, his head lolling back a little as he continues to stare at her.

“No one has to know. It’s… just like using the box.” Ettore lets out a soft sigh when he sees her hand stroke softly up her thigh, all wide eyed and flushed.

“We’re not breaking any rules… you’re not cheating on Monte. Let’s use each other… Let me make you feel good.”

When her hand reaches the edge of her shorts the deep exhale that leaves his mouth is almost embarrassing as he starts to plead with her, his hand now gripping himself through his sweats, the bulge there impossible for her to ignore any longer.

“… Touch yourself for me. That's what you want, isn't it? To feel good? To feel wanted?”

Ettore shifts himself closer to the edge of the bunk and dropping forward onto his knees to see her more clearly beneath him in the mirror’s reflection. A devilish smile appears on his face when he takes in the sheen of sweat shining on her body already.

She wanted this.

“You'd like it, wouldn't you? For me to tell you what to do… you love the sound of my voice, don’t you?”

He lets his hand slip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, he hadn’t bothered to wear any underwear. His cock is impossibly hard and weeping as he grips it tightly at the base, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he can gather the courage to continue.

“Take off your shorts for me.”

He can hardly believe his eyes when she disappears from view for a second, shifting on the bunk bed to pull down her shorts, leaving her in a small pair of black standard issue panties.

“Good girl... Now, move closer to the edge of the bunk so I can see you.”

Y/N slides forward to the edge of the bed, leaning on her knees wantonly and gazing up at him with that gorgeous mouth of hers hanging open softly. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of her, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as a soft groan escapes his throat. The black fabric of her panties was soaked, the crotch shining with slick even in the low light of the cell.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. You’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you…” He hisses, his voice drops lower still, a jealous flash covering his eyes. “Tell me, has Monte ever got you this soaked?”

He tries desperately to ignore the pang in his chest when she doesn’t reply, pushing it to the back of his mind as he gazes slack jawed at the wet spot forming at her covered centre.

Ettore sucks his teeth and tuts at her shaking his head. “I wish you would let me touch you.”

His eyes search hers shyly as he finally reaches his hands down and pulls off his grey sweatpants to ease the tension there, his flushed cock springing free from their confines.

Ettore spits into his palm, wincing as his long fingers wrap around the base of his stiff length, working their way upwards and stroking his thumb over his swollen pink head. Her eyes were fixed on him pleasuring himself, rubbing his thick and leaking cock up and down slowly.

Ettore chuckled darkly at the way she bit her lip hard enough to bleed as she leered at him.

He knew he was big.

“I shouldn’t have to waste any of my spit when your pussy is wet enough for the both of us…” Blue eyes stare intensely into hers as his tongue flicks out to lick his lips suggestively. “…but I’ll play along for you.”

A faint smile ghosts across her face as she leans forwards to look at his reflection even closer.

Oh god, she was enjoying it. She fucking wanted this. She wanted him.

“Do you like what you see, gorgeous? It’s all for you. Only you.” He croons, his eyes hooded now, as his fist gently pumps his hard cock teasingly. “Pull them down for me sweetheart, and spread your legs wider… I need to see you.”

And she did.

Without a single word, without a single thought, Y/N pulled down her panties, placed her feet down on the bed and spread her thighs wider, leaning back as she revealed herself to him completely.

And she was perfect.

She was beautiful.

“Oh shit, you really are wet… and all shaved and neat for me too?” Ettore’s body shudders, his shoulder slumping forwards as he places his free hand down onto the hard mattress to lean closer to the mirror, stroking his cock to the sight of her dripping cunt.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy… and for what? Monte isn’t even using you… Such a waste.”

He swallows harshly as his fingers traces the underside of his cock, pressing down on the thick vein running along his length. “Now… suck your fingers for me. Get them nice and wet.”

He squeezes the base of his cock with a stuttered groan as she hollows her rosy cheeks, her pink lips framing her fingers prettily as she takes them knuckle deep into her mouth.

“If I was allowed to touch you, I wouldn’t use my hand… but for now, I just want you to just circle your clit. And when you do... I need you to watch me.”

He sees her, and the reflection in her eyes tells him exactly what she’s thinking. Ettore leans even closer to the mirror watching her hesitate.

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N, or are you afraid of what you might like?” He growls.

“I won’t tell, I promise. We both know we need this... So please… play with yourself for me.”

When her small fingers finally slide from her soft thigh to her swollen folds it’s hard for him not to whimper out loud, a half-sob spilling from her throat at the sensation. And just like he’d asked, her sweet face remained fixed onto the sight of him.

“Shh... be quiet, or we’ll get caught.” He gravels out.

His eyes dart between his heavy length in his hand and her fingers sinking into her heat to swipe slick over her throbbing clit in tight circles, soft mewling noises coaxed from her heart shaped lips.

The harsh blue lighting makes the head of his cock shine as he covers himself with a mix of his own spit and precum, gazing down at her glistening core in the reflection of the mirror.

The sloppy sound of her finger now pumping into her wet cunt is almost obscene, echoing in the room and sending a wave of heat straight down to the base of his spine. His voice comes out more desperate than he’d planned it to… he’d never felt this way about anyone.

“… Do you like this? Does it make you feel good seeing how hard you make me?”

“Ah… I… fuck, it does, Ettore. It feels amazing.” Her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment as she lets of a soft high-pitched whine, covering her mouth and face hastily with her spare hand like she was ashamed by how wanting she was.

Ettore grunts and shakes slightly as he fists himself tightly, struggling to get his words out clearly.

“You know why that is, baby girl? Because you know I’ll take care of you. I know what you need. You might be a good girl out there… but this here, this is the real you. And it’s so fucking beautiful.”

She whimpers again as she fucks herself with her finger, throwing her head back in pleasure as he praises her. He sinks his hand down to cup his balls softly, pinching the soft skin of his ball sack and rolling it between his index finger and thumb, his hard dick on show for her and bobbing in front of the mirror.

His jaw hangs open slightly, his tight abs contracting and relaxing as he works himself, matching the pace at which she pumps her finger into her pulsing heat. “God I wish you’d let me fuck you.”

“Every night I go to the box I think about you, Y/N. Did you know that? God you’ve been so needy this week, like bitch in heat haven’t you?” Ettore groans out raggedly, gripping at his cock.

She’s only able to respond with a pathetic nod of her head, her words failing her at his blatant admission.

“I know… I know, baby girl… You want more don’t you? But it was you who said I couldn’t touch you.” He snickers teasingly as a thought comes to him.

“Get your pillow and put it under your ass for me.”

When she does this he can see her juices dripping down her inner thighs to soak the white fabric underneath her. She’s splayed out for him even better now, her slick pooling into the tight puckered hole beneath her pussy in a way that has him completely transfixed.

The noises in the darkened room are lewd and wet as he fists his cock faster now. Grunts and whimpers fill the air as she adds another finger, sloppily pumping her them into her core, the new angle helping her reach that sensitive patch inside herself, making her mewl pathetically.

“Do you always think about Monte in the box? Or have you ever thought about me? Please… tell me you’ve thought about this cock….”

She let out a desperate whine and screws up her face as the truth spills out of her. “I did… I do… I- I saw you.” She pants out, her hand reaching up underneath her shirt to paw at her tits desperately.

“I saw you in the corridor that day… I knew what you were doing… I’ve thought about it. Thought about you.”

Everything stops for a moment, his movement falters, his breath hitches, and his eyes focus only on her face.

She knew. She’d seen. And she’d carried on like nothing had even happened.

The makes something in him snap and he has to stop for a moment, his hands shaking and his cheeks flushing a deep pink as he desperately tries to hold off his climax.

“F-Fuck, Y/N. I knew it. Oh… you’re such a fucking good girl… Why didn’t you tell Monte?

The way he growls and pants only urges her on further, she can’t even form the words she’s so drunk on the feeling of him, the pleasure, his jealously, the feeling of him wanting her.

“Answer me. Why didn’t you tell him?”

She whimpers yet again and quickens her pace, and he can’t help but laugh out loud bitterly.

She’d been protecting him. She was just as perverted as him. She’d liked it.

“You can’t even say it… Oh… you love my attention don’t you? You want someone to notice you… Naughty girl. Monte’s just a boy and you need a real man don’t you?”

She nods pathetically in the reflection of the mirror, her cheeks pink and her expression wanton and shameless.

“Why don’t you give Daddy your panties and I’ll let you finish?”

Wordlessly she shakily passes her soaked panties to him from the bottom bunk, his fingers brushing her wet fingers and gathering some of the slick coating them. He brings them to his face, visibly shaking when he inhales her scent before sinking his fingers and her juices into his mouth.

“Oh shittt… you taste sweet. Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever tasted…”

He grabs his own pillow now, shoving it inbetween his legs. He wanted to finish with her and the thought of touching his cock with his slick covered fingers was just too much to handle.

Ettore hips begin to rock slowly, dragging his length over the fabric as he begins to hump against the soft pillow. His hands rest tightly on his hips as his chest begins to rise and fall jaggedly, watching her eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, her thighs shaking now.

“Oh, you poor girl… you need to cum don’t you? I can see it in your eyes… Tell me.”

“I need- Ah- I need to cum. The box… it’s not enough… I need to cum, I need…”

He continues to rut against the mattress, his cock swollen red as he takes his other hand down to twist and squeeze his balls. He rubs his nose into the crotch of her panties, breathing in her scent and panting pathetically.

Ettore grunts a little angrily now and lets out a low bitter laugh.

“You need to cum… what, baby girl?”

He smirks and snarls a little, licking at her panties crotch and locking eyes with her in the mirror when she finally says the words he’d dreamed of hearing.

“I need to cum…. Daddy.”

With her confession, everything starts to lose control and their movements become more frenzied, Ettore rutting so eagerly against the pillow that the whole bed frame starts to squeak, and he finds he can barely hold on anymore.

“Fuck! Show me your tits and make yourself come. Pinch them, fuck yourself… I can’t hold on much longer…”

She drags her shirt up to her neck revealing her heaving breasts, they’re moving now she’s pumping into herself so hard and fast. When she pinches her nipples her jaw hangs open, her eyes screw shut… and then she’s there.

With a soft high-pitched whine, she’s climaxing hard, squirting onto the pillow and biting her lip so hard she breaks the soft skin.

He doesn’t give her much time to recover, and quickly lays on his side on the top bunk, rapidly fisting his pink flushed cock.

“Y/N, get up, open your mouth and take what I’m gonna give you.”

Doing as she’s told, she shakily jumps up to face the bunk, gripping the frame tightly to steady herself. Her sweet, blushed face is level with his cock as she opens her mouth to him, tongue out and waiting. Within a few seconds he leans forward and spills onto her tongue with a deep guttural moan, coating her lips and chin with hot ropes of his cum.

And just like that the moment is over. He slumps down laying on his back panting, gazing down at her as she wordlessly swallows his spend and licks her lips to clean up the rest.

He couldn’t believe she’d actually done it.

…Had she really wanted this?

Should he kiss her? Would she even want him to?

He can barely think straight, his forearm coming up to cover his face as he lays there catching his breath, sweat cooling on his skin. When he finally opens his eyes again she’s already gone, laying down on the bottom bunk and dressing hastily.

Fuck. He should say something. Say anything.

“… Thanks.” He swallows and stutters awkwardly, staring up at the ceiling. “Did you… you did… finish didn’t you?”

Her voice comes out small and shy again, she’s retreated further back now under the bunk that he can no longer see her in the mirror, and something about this makes his stomach lurch.

“I did, yeah. Uhm… Thanks.”

Silence.

Not another word was exchanged between the of them for the rest of the night.

He’d thought about this for days, how he’d take her, how he’d force her, how he might hurt her, but there and then, in that very moment… he hadn’t been able to bring himself to lay a single finger on her.

He’d planned to make her his.

But somehow, laying there spent and exhausted in the dark, Ettore felt like it was her who had branded him.

Taglist: @qyburnsghost , @babyblue711 Please comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist! :3

#Ettore #ettore x reader #Ewan Mitchell #high life #ettore smut #ettore x you #fics by me #Supermassive Black Hole

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camilaxmartin · 1 year

Note

Hi!!! Can you do a Shuri imagine where Shuri is working too much and no one can get her to stop working except the reader and the reader calms her down with maybe a make out or (smut if you’re comfortable with that) but something along those lines :)

ღ overworking

hi! thank you so much for your request sun! (i wasn’t feeling totally comfortable with writing smut with shuri but maybe i’ll rewrite it one day) <3

navigation // request // me and find the rest!

summary: shuri is overworking herself and the reader finally makes her stop

warnings: making out, shuri calling you a princess (yes, that’s a warning😩)

notes: idk why she was so mean at the beginning but it just fitted right for me😭 it came out a bit too short for my liking but! i really enjoyed writing it. hope you like it!<3

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>•<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

shuri was spending all days in her lab. not that it was something utterly new, but as you moved in with her, she was trying not to work all day long and now something definitely changed.

you weren’t sure what to do.

probably she was doing something as important as the world’s matters and you didn’t wanna disturb her. on the other hand tho, you were starting to worry when she wasn’t leaving the lab to meet even with you. something was incredibly wrong. you knew that.

still not being sure if it’s worth it distracting her, you decided that if she won’t leave the lab till the end of the week, you’re gonna do something about it.

days flew by and shuri was nowhere to be seen, besides her lab. it was starting to really get onto your nerves. you understood that whatever she was currently working on was surely more important than anything, maybe even more than you, but it needed to end. it wasn’t normal for her to just stay in her lab and not speak to you for one and a half week now. not that you’re counting.

so the day came and you decided to take things into your own hands. you left your “shared” room (which for a good while felt like it belonged only to you) and swiftly sneaked to the elevator which was supposed to take you into the centre of your girlfriend’s lab. the doors opened and with one step you were inside. you tapped those funny buttons and felt the elevator going down. on the outside you looked perfectly fine maybe even a bit angry but on the inside you were just preparing yourself for the conversation you were about to have with shuri for about a thousandth damn time. just as you put everything where it was supposed to be in your head, the doors opened again and you were greeted with the view of a huge silver room with a lot of people going from one place to another, definitely working on something important. great.

you entered the room and the elevator disappeared as quick as it appeared here, with you inside. knowing everything in lab better than your own hand, you made your way to the stand which belonged to shuri. at first you didn’t see her but not even a moment ago she came out from one of those doors which destination you still couldn’t really understand. she almost haven’t noticed you, almost.

“what is it, my love?” she asked going back to her work and not looking at you.

“you haven’t left the lab for almost two weeks now.” you stated coldly. you saw her quickly roll her eyes and you decided not to choose violence today so not call her out for it.

“i have so much work.” she answered, like every time the two of you were having this type of conversation.

“yes.” you said. “and i understand it’s probably the most important thing in your life, but you can’t put it before you.” you tried getting to her, while putting one of your hands on her shoulder.

“what are you talking about?” she asked as if she didn’t know. this time you rolled your eyes.

“i’m just saying that you need to rest. your work itself will improve when you let yourself relax for a bit.” you said starting to stroke her shoulder a little.

“i am taking care of myself my love, you don’t need to worry about it.” she said still working not even bothered to look at you for a single moment.

“as your girlfriend i’ll always worry about you.” you stated, and your grip tightened a bit. “and i’m saying you need to rest.”

“and i’m saying i’m not a child and know what’s good for me.” she argued, again rolling her eyes. it was almost your break point but you still remained not to explode. she was so sure she could take care of herself alone and that she wasn’t a child anymore but in this argument she literally acted like one.

“don’t roll your eyes at me.” you said and your jaw automatically clenches. “look at me when i’m saying something.” you added and shuri just shrugged her shoulders. oh, oh, there is goes.

“we’ve talked about this!” you raised your voice while also grabbing her chin and making her look at you. “don’t disrespect me like that.” you added a bit more quiet. shuri looked at you with one of hers annoyed but not surprised looks.

“you’re done?” she asked looking at you this time. you haven’t got any idea why she was acting so mean towards you but it definitely didn’t help the worry that was building up inside you.

“what’s wrong?” you asked feeling less and less confident with every moment. shuri rolled her eyes again but still hold your eyes with hers.

“everyone out!” she suddenly screamed, making you jolt your hand away from her. you have never seen workers in the lab move as fast as they did in that moment. when the last person left the room you and shuri where alone. something you’ve been quite missing for those almost two weeks. maybe not under circumstances like that but it was also something, right?

“happy now?” she asked looking at you without you helping her.

“no.” you responded.

“then what do you want?” she asked and you needed to hold back the tears that wanted to form in your eyes.

“you!” you screamed feeling at the edge. “some time with you, maybe some affection, a stupid little chat would do!” you started listing, feeling frustrated. shuri was looking at you like you just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

“i have work to do.” she said and wanted to turn around to her stand, in need to go back into overworking herself even more, but you stopped her by grabbing her shoulder once again.

“you. need. to. rest.” you said through clenched teeth and she laughed a little. she dared to laugh.

in all frustration and anger your hand again found her chin and directed it to your side, not letting her go this time. she wanted to say something, protest probably, but your grip wouldn’t let her.

“no more excuses.” you said and suddenly connected your lips with hers. it took her a bit by a surprise but shuri was fast to catch up.

she immediately wrapped her arms around your waits, while you wrapped yours around her neck. not letting her or her lips go, you started to walk back, shuri obviously, along with you. finally your back hit the huge glass of one of the windows and then you pulled away feeling your lungs burn. you looked at shuri who still had her eyes closed only to open them up when you didn’t kiss her again.

“if that’s your definition of resting, then hell yeah i needed it. and still do.” she whispered, her lips gently rubbing your own.

“partly.” you responded giving her a quick peck, which she thought would be something more. “you still need to rest, rest.” you added and she rolled her eyes at you but this time it wasn’t mean it was almost playful.

“if that’s what you want princess.” she said wanting to connect your lips again, but you didn’t let her by moving your head a little.

“that’s what you need.” you stated being more serious again. shuri licked her lips not believing how much you cared about her and her good being.

“fine, my love. i promise i’ll rest today.” she smiled and you couldn’t hide the smile that was crawling up on your face.

“maybe you will come sleep in our bed today?” you suggested and shuri knew better that to rejected an offer like that.

“whatever you say, my princess.” she said and kissed your cheek, even tho you wouldn’t have moved away from her this time.

“but right now, i’d much rather focus on your definition of resting.” she said with those specific glint in her eyes. she didn’t need to say it twice.

“whatever you say, my queen.” you responded which earned you a little blush from shuri.

you again connected your lips together being more rough this time. your hands found shuri’s curls and immediately wrapped themselves around them, pulling a little. shuri moaned at that feeling, and in that very moment you were glad you decided to come down to her lab today. her hands started to wonder a bit lower when they finally settled at the bottom of your butt, which was a sign for a you. getting that straight, you jumped a little and shuri hold you while you wrapped your legs around her waist. she then pulled away her head a bit, much to your disliking.

“why would you stop?” you asked, not realising how needy you sounded.

“i see you really missed me those couple of days.” she laughed almost breathlessly. you wanted to riposte something of course, but she wouldn’t let you. almost immediately she clashed her lips to yours again, taking away the ability to speak from you completely. not that you complained tho. shuri then still holing you in her arms, made her way out of the lab going straight to your shared room. i can just say, that waiting those almost two horribly long weeks was more that worth it.

#shuri #mcu shuri #queen shuri #request #shuri imagine #shuri request #shuri fic #shuri x reader #black panther request #shuri black panther #black panther shuri #black panther wakanda forever #black panther imagine #black panther

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queers-gambit · 2 years

Text

High Noon

prompt: the tournament begins, and plans for a funeral looms

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 10k+

warnings: cursing, more non-specific smut, author projecting her loneliness, violence, more but wonky brain shut down!

previous: part one: Midnight Calls

next: part three: Darkening Hour

The morning was still, quiet, rigid with tension after the previous night's fiasco. Mary had come to your door early, finding you already sat before your vanity, pulling a hair brush through your locks. Your handmaiden kept quiet and selected a gorgeous gown from your chest, but then paused, and pulled a different one out.

The colors of the first dress was that akin to your husband's House, but the new dress was the darkest of coal in color with red threading along the bodice. Mary turned to show you the dress, cocking her head, "You've not worn this one before, Lady... Perhaps today is a good day to wear it?"

Your lips quirked in amusement, head cocking some as you focused on the mirror before you. "Those are interesting colors, Mary," you mentioned casually, "surely, that is pure coincidence?"

Mary looked to your chamber door and darted towards it, only pausing to toss the dress onto your freshly made bed, and shut the door firmly. She turned with her back to the wood, finding you twisting in your seat to face her, "Surely, you must have something to tell me of last night, my Lady?"

"What makes you think that?" You wondered.

"You met with the Prince," she rolled her eyes lightly, moving towards your body to turn you again towards the mirror. "What happened? Oh, please, Lady, you know the gossip in the castle is only half-truth, and I would never get to experience something like this."

You sighed gently, "Nothing happened, Mary, we only met and..."

"And?"

Your shoulders shrugged meekly, "And he told me of his Lady-wife's passing, I offered my condolences, and he wondered if I would support him in the tournament. I told him that it would be a great scandal in the court if I supported him, and not my husband."

Mary rolled her eyes, "Your husband's always been a pig, Lady, I am sorry." You nodded in agreement before silence befell the two of you, then, an idea came across your mind.

"Mary?" You prompted.

"Hmm?"

"In a perfect world, who would you choose?" You wondered, watching her through the mirror as she started to intricately braid your hair.

"From the courts?"

"Sure," you sighed.

"Hmm, well, Ser Harwin Strong is... Mhmmm," She hummed, nodding, making you both giggle. "And of course, there's a few others..." She went on to name a few names, before rolling her eyes, "Yes, yes... And I do suppose Prince Daemon is handsome, and brave... And strong, and handsome, and talented, and rebellious, yet so very charming, and cunning with a reputation that precedes him, and he's handsome, too..."

You laughed, "Think he's handsome, do you?"

"Perhaps a bit," she teased, winking back at you. "Though... I do know who I would marry if the Gods permitted it."

"Oh?" You perked up, grinning at her in wonder. "Are you going to tell me who it is, my friend, or let me be the only one sharing secrets?"

She sighed lightly, "His name's Edwin."

"Where did you meet?"

"He's a stablehand," she admitted, shrugging some. "Met through work, if you will. He's handsome... The third son of one of the blacksmiths, and doesn't truly keep up with his family, I suppose."

"Hmm," you considered. "And how does he feel of your family?"

She was one of ten siblings. Oh, her mother was a saint.

"Yes, well, in truth, he loves them," Mary breathed, "and my parents adore him."

"Then what's the issue?" You asked gently. "Why not court him properly?"

She shrugged, "He is... Courting another... Well - it is complicated, my Lady, and I am unsure of how it makes me feel."

"Who else is he courting?"

"The Lady Deena."

"No!" You gasped.

"I know!" She whined. "Their father's set it up, but Edwin does not wish to enter service, for he is talented as a smith, but he loves horses more and likes what he does now. He's truly a humble man - but it's put delay on their betrothal."

"And now you've fallen in love with him, oh, Mary," You sighed. "Would you point him out to me? I wish to put a face with the name."

"Of course," she nodded, already dressed for the tournament after agreeing to be your escort as your husband was competing. "And Lady Deena has been boasting about her seats for the tournament. Edwin's going to compete..."

"We need to make you a token, so you can give it to him! Oh the look on the Lady Deena's face!" you gasped lightly as you shook your head, looking around your room. "Okay, I'll make you one if you do those braids I like?"

"The thick ones?"

"Please," you nodded, your maid agreeing; and leaving you sat in the chair for another hour (or longer) with a woven favor in your lap as Mary tucked, twisted, and braided your hair.

Your make-up was perfected after, and then, you decided to wear the beautiful black dress. Just as Mary was lacing the corset, there was a knock at the door. "Enter," You called, revealing another maid. "Yes?"

"From the Prince, my Lady," she presented a sheet of suede; laying it on the table, and bowing out of the room as if in fear. Her eyes had never lifted from the floor, and you wondered what abuse the servants in the castle usually endured.

You made a mental note to ask Daemon about it later.

"What's that?" Mary wondered as your heels clicked over the floors to reach the small table holding a pitcher of wine and a few books; pulling the suede flap up to reveal the most beautiful sight.

A strand of thick rubies that were posed as a choker necklace, making it look like the jewels would drip off your neck. There was a pair of matching ruby earrings, with another matching ruby ring; complimenting your choice of dress perfectly.

"Gods," Mary swore when she saw the jewels. "Those are a pretty thing, hey?"

"Beautiful, I'd say," you complimented, petting the sparkling gems intimately. "Would it add insult to wear? I would be wearing Targaryen colors, Mary..."

"No, you look ravishing in this," she assured, gesturing to your dress, "that I do not think anyone would interpret this as betrayal. And the jewels?" She tutted lightly, "I would think the Prince be offended to find you not wearing them, Lady."

"I fear you might be right," you admitted, trying to fight your smile. "Would you put it on?"

"Of course," she agreed, taking up the necklace with gentle hands. She latched it on as you fixed the earrings into your piercings, slipping the ring on you right ring ringer; opposite the wedding band you wore for your husband. "Gods be good," Mary nodded, stepping back to admire you. "You look incredible, my Lady. Honestly - I am finding the words hard, you look... Just wow," she nodded, clasping her hands together. "How you have grown into a stunning young woman. No wonder the Prince is so smitten."

You sighed lightly, "Oh, Mary - "

"No, my Lady, you just look breathtaking," she nodded, waving her hands frantically. "Oh, enough of that from me, you don't need an old woman telling you how beautiful you are." She sighed almost sadly, nodding, "Just wish your mother could see you now."

Your smile faded slowly, "Might I be honest a moment?"

"Of course."

"Since I left home and came here, you've been more mother than I've known before," you admitted. "And your praise means everything to me, so, please, don't hold back," you both giggled lightly.

"Come," she nodded, fixing a portion of your necklace. "The joust is to start soon, and I do believe our men are competing - both of yours, I do mean."

"Hush," You nodded with a smile, and took one last look at yourself in the mirror, the jewelry making you look and feel powerful - as if cloaked in Daemon's sigil, and his protection. Mary's arm looped around yours as you departed down the halls of the Red Keep; pushing out of the doors, and joining a stream of other royals heading for the tournament grounds.

You both held your woven favors in your hands and found your seats easily; giggling lightly and pointing to different things. Ser Harwin Strong passed by and paused to bid you both a good day, kissing the back of your hand, and even taking the seat beside you to mumble to you and Mary about the happenings in the sandy arena.

In an interesting turn of events, your husband was announced against the Rogue Prince - and your heart stalled in your chest as your hand blindly slapped Mary's thigh. Concern spiked as your husband boisterously rode into the arena on a brown horse, the crowds weakly cheering for the fattening knight, but then muttering in confusion when he approached the side of the stands you were not on, and accepted the favor of another Lady.

"Oh," Mary whispered, eyes wide; glancing at you with nervousness.

Harwin cleared his throat, "A simple curtesy, I'm sure."

"Hmm," You hummed, nodded as if it did not sting to witness. The Lady across the stand was Lady Regina - who had a renowned reputation of wrecking homes. She bit her lip and stood at the railing, watching your husband like he was prey, and you understood why. The only appeal of your husband was the location of his home as it was strategic, and a great host to farmlands.

He also commanded some 3,000 soldiers that he had pledged to the crown...

Your marriage was great in the sense that he left you alone, but all of his wives had died... And for the first time, you questioned how. "Ser Strong?" You mumbled, making the knight lean in some. "Might I ask you something?"

Prince Daemon was announced, the crowds cheering harder as Harwin agreed.

"How did my husband's first three wives come to pass?"

Mary leaned in to listen as the knight cleared his throat nervously. "Naturally, my Lady," he nodded, Daemon galloping around the arena in his dragon-suited armor.

"Do not lie, Ser," you demanded. "Tell me truthfully."

"Truthfully - it was all presented as natural," he lowered his voice. "But there are those who like to whisper that your husband... Might've tampered with their fate. There was never any proof, and once he married you, he has had no reason to be rid of you..."

Your lungs shuddered, "How, my good Ser?"

Harwin nodded, Daemon's horse pulling into a high-stepping trot while the high noon's sun beamed over you all. "The first turned septic after their second daughter was born. The second was lost on a hunt to freezing temperatures..."

"And the third?" You asked, lifting your chin to feign passiveness; eyes scanning the arena.

"Birthed two sons, and then fell headfirst into the river," Harwin answered, your eyes finding his. "He found them all, and there were never any witnesses."

"My Lady," A new voice called, making all three of you look up to discover Daemon Targaryen keeping his horse in a halt at the fence, but his eyes were drinking you in with a knowing smirk on his lips.

Not waiting to be told twice, you stood dutifully, and descended the wooden steps to the fence. "My Prince," you greeted softly, eyes raking over him in his dark armor.

"Would you honor me, my Lady? As your husband foolishly hasn't?" He smirked deeper, presenting his lance forward towards you.

Your lungs exhaled as you dropped your favor through the pole, his smirk never dimming in radiance. "Good luck, my Dragon," you whispered in Valyrian, sending him a soft smile as his smirk turned into a full-on grin. "And thank you," your hand shot up to pet over the rubies decorating your neck, flashing the ruby ring you wore.

He nodded, "They look ravishing on you - better than I imagined."

Worried for his public compliments, you nodded, "It's an honor to wear such a gift. I'll pray for a swift victory, my Prince."

He nodded, "My Lady."

Daemon backed his horse up two steps before turning and spurring him forward to reach the Targaryen side of the arena. You turned for your seat and the moment your bottom landed, the flag was waving, and both men were charging at one another at full speed. Each strike of their lances made you flinch as your husband's husk made him heavier, and a lot harder to unhorse; yet Prince Daemon's blows continued to land without yield.

Understanding he would face difficulty trying to unhorse his opponent, Daemon changed tactics; and the next lance was jolted into the ground before your husband's horse, sending them both careening into the sand. You gasped, standing in alarm with Mary and Ser Harwin as Daemon whipped his horse around with a menacing glare.

"SWORD!" Your husband roared, making the crowds cheer. "SWORD, NOW!" The three of you rushed for the fence, your hands taking the posts in a bruising grip as Daemon easily swung off his horse.

Two squires rushed into the arena. One presented your husband with his family's sword, the other taking hold of Daemon's horse, and holding the scabbard of Dark Sister.

Daemon revealed the Valyrian Steel blade, and you swore you saw your husband tremble in his armor. But he could not back down now, and took the first lunge with a wild battle cry. Each clang of metal made you flinch, watching with unblinking eyes as the two knights swung fatally at one another.

Their feet danced over the sands, and you heard only a portion of their conversation. The Prince had growled with hacking swings, "You never deserved her!"

Two swords continued to swing and hack at each other, until, the Prince of the City had more than enough of the fat knight before him, and with his teeth bared in a snarl, drove his sword through a weak-spot in your husband's armor. Daemon lowered his mouth to his ear, assuring with a hiss, "When I pull this blade free, you'll die within a minute. But you'll feel every ounce of pain as I flood your lungs, and know, this is all you deserve for what you did to her." He drove the sword an inch deeper, "You'll rot for what you've done, but fear not, for she is mine again, and will never know pain again."

Daemon yanked Dark Sister free, and the man stumbled to his knees; hand desperately trying to hold the spurting wound as the Lady Regina screamed from the other stands, and rushed into the arena to hold your husband as he died. You had firm belief that this was why nobody pitied the dead knight, why nobody reprimanded Daemon. It was a tournament, after all, and men died in all of them - and when your husband's consort rushed to him in your stead, they felt no sympathy for him. You were always viewed as a prize, even after your marriage marked you as 'taken'.

Your breathing slowed as time stilled when your husband hit the ground in the arms of the woman he chose over you. Not like you cared much, but something burned in your gut and left you feeling ashamed and embarrassed. It did not last long as Daemon was nearing where you still stood, nodding in respect.

"My condolences, my Lady," he panted lightly. "I will have his funeral transport arranged."

You swallowed, and with the eyes of the city on you, forced a nod, "That would be... Most gracious, my Prince."

He nodded again and turned to stalk out of the arena, leaving you, Mary, and Ser Harwin to watch Lady Regina sob loudly over your dead husband. Her dress was weighed heavy with his blood, and two more squires rushed out to pulled the body away. Your throat cleared and you felt at a loss, looking at Mary to whisper, "What the hell just happened?"

Her tone matched yours, "Prince Daemon just killed your husband."

Your head nodded, "Hmm... Thought so, means I'm not dreaming."

"Come," she pulled you by the hand. "We should go, get you out of here."

"What of Edwin?"

"It matters not - "

"No, we will watch," you insisted; glancing around as you stoically reclaimed your seats. Two more knights were presented, and it was like everyone forgot they witnessed a man die as the excitement of the tournament trumped any discomfort over the public murder of your husband. Your hands wrung nervously and time passed, your only salvation being that you got to see Mary bestow Edwin with her favor - and not the Lady Deena, who looked far too put out for the public eye.

And Edwin won his match, unhorsing his opponent!

It was a grand affair, and as you left the stands finally, a messenger found you and presented you a scroll. It was an official death certificate signed by the King, citing the natural causality of the tournament as the nature of his death. You nodded and showed Mary, parting ways as you were required to decide what to do with his body.

An hour later, you were stood above his sheeted-body; glaring at his pale, swollen face, and cursing his name under your breath. After you were allowed 'to say goodbye', you signed off on his transport home, where he was to be laid in his family's crypt, and his eldest son would inherit the title 'Lord'.

After deciding to return with the body, still set on playing your part as dutiful widow, you were given rest for the night as you'd embark on your journey 'home' tomorrow. The festivities would continue for the week, and you would miss it, but you were unsure of your standing in court now. Sure, Daemon promised to marry you - but you did not know where you would live now. Your husband's children were not overly fond of you that you did not know how welcomed you'd be, and returning to the Red Keep after the funeral felt wrong.

Worriment weighed your heart to your feet, and for the first time, you let the tears fall. Servants bowed out of your way as your emotion was tangible, pushing into your bedchamber before slamming the door, and panting against it.

No, you were not grieving your lying, cheating husband, but the public did not need to know that you were actually relieved about it. No, you were mourning the idea of Prince Daemon because surely it would be easy for him to go back on his word now.

You were confused, and scared, and while you had dreamt of your husband's demise before, the reality of it felt crushing. Would you return to your parents? Could you stay where your husband was Lord? Did you return to the Red Keep? What were you to do?

Feeling suffocated, you swiftly tore through the room and packed anything your hands touched. You were drowning in panic and sorrow that you missed the knock at your door; Daemon entering to find you shoving dresses into a trunk - rubies still latched around your neck.

"Dove?" He asked slowly, watching you jump in shock. His hands rose in peace, "What're you doing, pretty girl?"

"What am I doing? I'm packing, Daemon, what does it look like!?" You snipped, voice rattling from tears and mucus; hands shaking.

"All right," he nodded, "but why, dove?"

"Because I am to return my husband's body to his family's crypt!"

"Mhm? And then?"

"And then - I have no idea!" You shook your head. "Where I go after, I am not sure - I do not know what I am to do right now, I have never been a widow before."

Daemon's head cocked and his brows furrowed, stepping into your room, and shutting the door for privacy, "What're you talking about? You will return here - "

"Why? So, I might bury my husband, and return to court as a sign of my single hand? So that others might try to court me? That is a desperate look, my Prince - "

"No," he stepped forward, hands still held out calmly, "you would return here as my guest."

"Oh, because that's better!"

"Sweetheart," he spoke patiently, taking the clothing from your hands to set aside, "listen to me, you are thinking too much. You cannot remain anywhere but here - "

"Why?"

"Because I can protect you here," he nodded, reaching for your cheek. "You think I would abandon you?"

"You did once before..."

"And I am not the same man," he promised, leaning in to nuzzle his nose into your cheek. "I am not leaving you in this. I... I have spoken to my brother, my dove."

"What?" You gasped, stepping closer to press into his chest and look up at him. "About what?"

"About what is to happen," he assured gently, petting over your jaw and chin. "He has agreed to invite you back under his name to avoid any gossip, and when the time is right, announce our engagement with his full support and blessing."

"Daemon - "

"You forget, my dove, he is my older brother," he smirked down at you; gently cradling you to him. "He remembers us, and who we were before. He has agreed to give his blessing when the time is right, for none will go against his word."

Your brain felt like it was short circuiting, "Y-You did that for us?"

It made him chuckle, "Yes, dove. I was serious when I said I wanted you for the rest of my life. I know you are scared, I know you are unsure about what is to pass, so, listen to me. I will give you till the end of next month to settle his affairs, and if you are not back by then, I will come retrieve you myself with Caraxes."

"Why don't you come get me at the end of this month?"

He smiled lightly, "Gods, I was hoping you'd say that."

"Yeah?"

His nose nuzzled yours, "Yes, my dove. You will return and burry your husband, settle his estate, and I will come get you. You will be a guest of my brother, King Viserys, and in six months," he teased lightly, "we will announce our engagement - and I will not waste time in marrying you."

You nodded, "I do not need a feast, my love, only you."

He chuckled, "You say that as if I would not spare an expense to celebrate you."

"I know you wouldn't," you breathed, feeling a little more at ease. "You make this sound as if it's easy."

"It will be," he assured. "And when we are saying our vows, I promise, this will be worth it."

Your hand flattened to pet over his chest, "If you are so confident, I will not doubt you, my Dragon."

"So pack, dear, sweet Lady," he mumbled, "because I will have your things moved tomorrow."

"Might I ask where?"

"Wouldn't you rather be surprised?" He teased lightly.

"Or perhaps I would like to ensure you are remaining within respectable bounds," you answered, smiling when his lips finally descended to press against yours. He hummed, hand cradling your jaw and cheek now; letting your tongue sweep across his.

"My Lady is not acting very respectable now," he smirked, pressing his lips against your lips in hurried kisses; but his grin assured you that he was only jesting.

"You do not make me act very respectable, my Prince," you breathed, licking over his lips after. "But I am set for a long day tomorrow. It would take us a week to reach - "

"Sh," Daemon's head shook, resting his forehead on yours. "Worry not, my dove. I am here only to aid you. What might you need? How could I help?"

You smiled lightly and stood still, relishing in his warmth while his hands splayed across your back, and rubbed up and down. "I suppose I could finish packing my things," you finally mumbled, cheek pressed to his breast, and your arms tight around his ribs to anchor him against you.

Daemon nodded and turned to pour you both goblets of wine when you let go (after a few more kisses), making your heart skip a beat when he domestically began to help you pack. He joked lightly and folded clothes messily, letting you show him the 'proper' way; storing your belongings for his easier transport tomorrow. By the end, the pitcher of wine was dry, and you were both left in bed with sleepy eyes and nightwear.

Your hand traced patterns over his bare chest while one of his hands held your waist, and the other held the elbow of your bent arm. "I did not congratulate you on your victory, my Prince," you mentioned quietly, the only sounds of the room being that of a crackling fire from the end of your bed. "A well-fought battle."

He hummed and his lips pressed to your forehead, "Thank you, dove. I must say, it was a sweet victory."

"Oh?" You smiled lightly, and his hand tightened on your waist.

"How could I not? Look at my prize," he praised.

"Might I make a request?" You wondered in a whisper, lifting your gaze to his; lips ghosting over his jaw for you to press a few slow, soft kisses.

"Anything," he agreed, just as soft.

"When we are married, you would still compliment me as you do now. I do not tire hearing it."

Daemon chuckled, "Oh, my sweet princess, you are going to be spoiled in my affection, do not worry over that."

"Promises, promises."

"Hmm," he nodded, "I see - you do not believe words, but action. Very well, my dove, you will see," his eyes fluttered tiredly as his lips found your forehead again. "Might grow tired of the way I worship you."

"Never," You promised, just as tired. He sighed sleepily against your forehead, and the pair of you drifted off to sleep; finally content with the person sharing your bed and body heat.

At some point in the night, you both had shifted so that you faced the open window and Daemon's chest was snug against your back with his one arm stretched out under your head, and his other, coiled tightly around your waist. His nose had burrowed into the junction of your neck and shoulder, and it's where he woke up.

Well, you both woke due to a midnight, drunken duel taking place nosily in the courtyard beneath your window; his arm subtly constricting to alert you he was awake.

"Do you want me to close the window?" You asked in a hoarse whisper, eyes still closed.

Daemon's breathing shifted some, a kiss being pressed to the skin of your neck, "'S all right, dove. Air feels nice."

You nodded and settled again, subtly smirking when his hand pulled up your stomach and palmed your bare breast under the tunic you wore - one that smelled of his sweat and blood and overall natural scent. He felt your breathing deepen, licking the shell of your ear in a slow, upward motion, and humming, "Sorry, cold hands."

"Mhm," you mumbled, reaching a hand back and up to pet over his neck and cheek; then lowering it again. But your breathing shifted again when his thumb and pointer finger gently pinched and rolled your nipple, almost forcing your back to arch lightly as you whined. "Daemon," you breathed, sleep slowly escaping your body. "'S late, my love - uh!" You moaned when he pinched sharper, mouth opening against your shoulder while pushing his hips up into yours.

"Shh, my darling girl," he spoke quietly in your ear, palming your breast again as his new focus became thrusting his hardening cock into the swell of your ass. "You are leaving me for the rest of the month," he groaned, "and I will be without you, unjustly. You can lay there if you desire, I just need to feel you, my dove."

You chuckled lowly, grinding back against him, "You have gone this long without me, my Dragon."

"Which was too long to start with, and now that I've had a taste," he groaned, "I do not wish to go without. But I promise you," he shifted so the arm under you was curled at an angel to toy with your tit, and the other dropped to your hip to help guide your motions, "this will be the only time we are apart, my love. I will never be without you again - and you will not know my absence."

Tears prickled your eyes, "Do you swear it?"

His tongue flattened against your neck, making your head jut to the side for his better access; grinding sharply into you, "I swear it, my love. Fuck," he moaned, sniffing into your neck, "my wife."

"Not yet," you teased breathlessly, the hand on your hip moving to gather the long tunic and pull up to free your bare bottom.

"Soon," he promised, snaking his hand along your hips to push between your legs. You gasp and let your leg move back to hook over his hips, his groan of approval assuring you it was the right move as his hand curled to push his fingers into you deeply.

"Daemon," you moaned as if in heat.

"I will not taste you yet," he purred, biting the tip of your ear and making you jolt. "But I will fill your cunt with my seed," his finger increased, "and leave you with my memory. I would spend tonight in you, my dove."

"Please," you whined, a hand over his to encourage the grip he had on your tit, as the other reached back to keep his face and mouth close to your flushing flesh. Your hand contracted over his, making it roughly paw at your breast; voice breathless, "My Dragon, do not tease me longer."

Daemon panted from behind you, both hands dropping to free his hips of trousers; stroking his throbbing member only a few times while lifting your leg. "Remember, dove..."

"You've got me," you finished, nodding as one hand lined himself up and the other held your leg; plunging into you at this new angle, and making you both cry out with unfiltered ecstasy. "Daemon, oh, my Gods," you praised, head tossed back to his shoulder as he grunted against your ear; settling himself in position.

One arm shot under your body to hold you in place; hand able to twist to rub at your clit, as his other hand coiled around you, laid between your breasts, to clamp around your throat in a hold.

You had heard other ladies mumbling about being 'fucked into bliss', and didn't understand until now. Daemon kept your body in position to allow his hips to piston into your own, balls slapping noisily, and teeth bared to let a few mangled grunts escape.

Your mouth felt like it was broken and could only hang open, turned slightly into the pillows beneath you both. Daemon was flooded with pleasure, muttering sweet, dirty nothings in your ear; warning you he was close, and fingering your clit. As you released around him, his praise was voiced like a sure stream - just as sure as his cum filled you to the brim, slightly leaking from around him and wetting the crack of your ass.

"Fuck," you begged with a pant, his breath fanning over the skin of your shoulders. When you shifted, he grunted lightly but seized your hips to anchor you in place.

"No, dove," he whispered, still behind you, "let me stay."

"I was not disinviting you from my bed, Daemon," you jested.

"Hmm, that is good," he smirked, landing a single kiss to your shoulder. "But I meant let my cock stay - buried in this sweet cunt. Just for the night, my dove."

His vulgar words made you shudder some, "Daemon..."

"I will leave you in the morning," he promised, "and have the tea sent. But for now," he stifled another groan, "let me stay, my pretty princess."

"How could I say no?" You smirked.

"That was the point," he grinned, chuckling lightly as you both shifted some for comfort. "Sleep, my love," he whispered, letting you twitch a little before settling. As you drifted off, your mind conjured would-be situations you might find yourself in with Daemon once you marry, pending if you could keep this affair hidden for a respectable amount of time.

Three weeks after your arrival to your husband's estate, you were finally done aiding in settling the estate and bringing his eldest son into his Lordship, and you were so fucking ready to head back to Kings Landing.

Lucky for you, as you had finished breakfast that morning, someone was shouting from the outside, "DRAGON!"

You gasped and nearly tripped over your own feet to rush for the windows, catching just a glimpse of Caraxes gliding through the air to land outside the stronghold's territory. You had dressed in black as a symbol of mourning, but something in your gut stirred with the idea of wearing the color to represent your new married name.

With as much calmness as you could muster, you met your step-son (who was only a few years younger than you) in the court room, and waited. Being as you were 'Lady' of the estate, he had trusted you to help him learn the ropes, and while he was technically on his own now, he still liked having your ear.

The doors of the court room opened, and the Prince Daemon surged through the doors with a (familiar) knowing smirk.

"Lord," your step-son greeted.

You leaned towards his ear, "That's Prince Daemon, love, he's addressed as 'Your Grace'."

"Oh," he nodded, eyes widening in embarrassment; but Daemon only smirked and clasped his hands in front of him as he came to a halt before the new Lord. "My most sincere apologies, my Prince, I uh... I have never met Royalty, I did not know."

"No apologies necessary, my Lord, you have offended no one on your quest for knowledge," Daemon smoothly assured.

"To what might we owe this unexpected pleasure?" You had taught the new Lord to be dutiful and polite, to always ask how he might offer aid before making any assumptions for anyone's arrival.

Daemon lifted his chin, "Much like she has done here, my brother requests the Lady of the House to return to King's Landing, where she might aid in tutoring the King's son."

"Oh," your step-son's eyes widened, and your hand laid over his clutching the arm rest of his seat. "Yo-You are being summoned, step-mother."

You internally cringed at the term. "Yes... So it would appear."

"We cannot reject the King, no matter how I wish for you to stay," he sighed, nodding. "Right, we will offer the dragon three sheep for his long journey," he nodded to a guard, "and tonight, we will feast. On the morrow, we will see you off," he nodded to you now.

"With respect?" Daemon took a step forward. "The King has sent me on my dragon to ensure the lady's swift and safe arrival back into the city. The sheep are appreciated, but not necessary," his hands waved your step-son's offering off.

You lifted your chin and spoke the lad's name. He turned to you, eyes almost hopeful - but you would not be offering any now. "Come to court this season, and I will sponsor you," you spoke quietly. "Only for the season, and if you do not find a wife, come for the next. The dynasty of your family now lies on your shoulders, love, and you will be expected to produce heirs."

He nodded, "Father mentioned it before..."

"He wasn't wrong," you nodded softly. "So, I will go with the Prince now and report to the King, and in three months, you will be a guest of the city and partake in the courts."

"My first time," he mumbled nervously.

"Ah," you sighed, "think not of it, for you will be with me."

"Thank you," he smiled with gratefulness. "Who would watch here?"

You smiled, "Who would you trust?"

Your step-son paused, "Maester Arwyn?"

"A good choice, love," your lips pulled with pride. "And court is only a season long, you will return soon."

"Hopefully married."

"Hopefully," you teased, standing from your seat. "With your leave, Lord?"

He nodded, "Of course, yes. Yes, you should pack - come, Prince Daemon, let me show you the grounds while the Lady makes herself ready."

"A splendid idea," you praised as Daemon smirked.

"I agree, I've never seen what your town's to offer," Daemon smirked, turning to follow your step-son; shooting you a smirk and wink over his shoulder, and leaving you alone.

The moment the doors clanged shut, you took a sobering breath, and tried to remind yourself it was real - and in five months, you'd call that man husband.

You were shameless in your rapid packing, most of your desired objects already in the Red Keep. Daemon was lead on a total tour of the stronghold, and you met the pair where Caraxes was waiting - Daemon making introductions, as your step-son nearly quivered in fear of the scaly beast.

You were quiet as you approached, not daring to interrupt the moment. Daemon beamed in mischief as he caught sight of you, backing up to wrap his arm around you, and after an assuring glance to make sure your step-son's eyes were still 100% on Caraxes, leaned in to press a searing kiss to your lips.

In his native tongue, Daemon whispered, "I've missed you, my sweet princess."

"I've missed you more," you whispered in reply, words drowned out by Caraxes' deep breathing. "Making friends?" you asked a little louder, in the common tongue, directing it at your step-son's back; pushing Daemon's hands away with a teasing smirk.

"He's incredible..."

"Isn't he?" You agreed, coming to his side; spying his hand still flat on the reddish scales. "You all right?" You whispered, spying the tears shining.

"Just... Mesmerized, I'm okay, promise," He assured you. "This is incredible."

"When you come to court, I will show you the Dragon Pit," Daemon nodded, clapping the lad on the shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Course."

"Thank you, Your Grace," the lad nodded, beaming in glee and excitement. "Oh, you are packed already," he noticed your rucksacks. "I suppose you are ready to depart, then?"

You sighed, "I will write - and you can write me."

"And I'll see you in three months..."

"You will," you sighed, pulling him in for a tight hug. Smoothing over his hair, you paused to give him an affection squeeze - press a quick kiss to his forehead - and release him. "You're gonna be fine," you whispered.

He nodded and turned to Daemon, bidding the Prince a goodbye, safe travels, and promising to take him up on his offers. Daemon smirked and watched him walk away before leading you to the other side of his dragon. "Nice lad," he complimented, pushing your rucksacks from your shoulders. "Bit young, no?"

"He'll learn," you panted, reaching up to hook your hand around his neck and yank him into you - lips colliding in a frenzied mess. "Missed you - so fucking much."

He huffed through his nose, meshing your lips together messily before pulling back, "Missed you more, my dove. More than you know."

"I think I know," you winked, kissing him again, and then straightening up off of Caraxes hide. "So? How does... This all work?" You asked, glancing to the dragon providing you with limited privacy.

"Come," he spoke steadily, grabbing your bags, hoisting them up his shoulder; then climbing into the saddle, storing the bags, and reaching for you.

In Valyrian, you asked Caraxes, "Am I allowed to mount you? Not gonna eat me, right?"

The dragon snorted and shifted his weight, turning his head forward, and seemingly giving the O-K. Daemon reached for you, guiding you up to the saddle, and let you settle behind him. "Go easy on me, yes?" You whispered in his ear, aware of the eyes still lingering from the stronghold.

"Course, dove," he smirked - and everyone heard from the ground how you screamed in fright as Caraxes took off in a (clumsy) sprint, spread his wings, and took flight.

"DAEMON!" You scolded once in the air, clinging to him as if your life depended on it.

"Get used to this, my love," he laughed.

"Oh, my Gods," you whimpered. "Listen! If the Gods wanted us to fly, they would've given us wings, Daemon, oh, my fuck! Please! Please!"

"You're safe, my love," he assured, a hand over your tense ones that held the front of his tunic in a vice grip. "I would never let anything happen to you, you know that. And Caraxes is bonded to me - he would not let anything happen to you, either."

"Okay, that's reassuring, love, but we're still hundreds of feet in the air," you worried, tightening your hold on him.

"Sweetheart," he spoke softly, caressing your arms around his middle, "just open your eyes a moment. I promise it's worth it."

With mustered bravery, you wrenched your clamped eyes open, and the breath was knocked from your lungs. You were higher than the clouds, and by the Gods, you could see all land and clouds; the sun streaming between gaps; and providing a view you could never of imagined unless on dragon-back.

"See?" he smirked. "Not too terrible, is it?"

You breathed against the back of his neck, "No - it's beautiful, even, my love, do not mistake that. Doesn't make this any more safe."

"You are with me - how much more safe can you be, my love?"

"On the ground!" You groaned, burying your face into his shoulder blades. "Being on the ground is safest."

"Debatable. On dragonback, we can make a quick getaway. Safety is paramount up here, and Caraxes is a firece companion who has saved my life more often than not."

You hummed, wondering in a quiet voice, "Would I ever have to ride without you?"

"Never, my love."

You sighed with relief, "Then I suppose I could try to get used to this. But... Not right now."

"I understand," he chuckled, patting your hands again. "But I will need you to do one thing for me, my sweet."

"Hmm?"

"Come here."

"I'm right behind you, Daemon."

"No, come to the front," he smirked, twisting in the saddle to lean to the side. "Trust me, please," he nodded, guiding you around his body to settle in front of him; facing, and koala hugging him. "See?" He mused, hands smoothing over your back and waist, "Not too terrible."

"No," you shuddered lightly. "But we are not doing that again."

"In truth, it was a test," he admitted, gently curling a strand of wild, loose hair behind your ear.

"For what?"

"To see the extent of your trust," he sighed lightly. "I know you have not spent a lot of time around dragons, but for you to then climb around me? Tells me more than you'll know."

You hummed lightly, snuggled against his pectoral, "Did I pass your test then, my Prince?"

Daemon nodded, pecking your forehead, "Yes, my dove."

The rest of the ride wasn't as exciting as the start, but you did feel safer than before; might've even stretched your hands back some to support your upper body. With your legs hooked around his hips, and his hands casually sweeping up and down your thighs, it was otherworldly to just gaze at the man you were set to marry.

"What is it?" He wondered after an hour, the dragon gliding lower as you surged towards the capital of the country.

"Nothing," you assured, biting back your smile. "You just look so handsome."

"Oh?"

"Mhm," you nodded, elaborating, "this is where you belong, my Prince. Not on an Iron Throne, but here, on your dragon's back."

Daemon's eyes slitted some, "Careful, dove. We are nearly home."

"That matters?"

"Considering if another compliment such as that one passes through your lips, I might not wait until we're back to fuck you," he purred, hands tight over your thighs and slightly prying them open more.

"I'm surprised you've waited this long, truthfully," you smirked, his bare hands then slipping under your skirts to hold your calves. "How has it been without me?"

"Miserable, my love," he groaned lightly, letting his hands slide up to grasp the backs of your knees. "You were dearly missed, I almost stopped showing up to court, but figured it'd be suspicious if I returned when you did."

"My poor Prince," You eased, letting your knees widen. "Worry not, for I am back. And this coming season won't be like the others, hmm?"

"I imagine not," he admitted, raking his eyes over you. "Black suits you, my dove."

"Not for the reasons I wear it now," you cocked your head. "But in a few months, I'll wear this color to represent my husband."

Daemon smirked, dragging you forward gently as he leaned forward until his lips hovered over your own, "How I cannot wait to hear that."

"Hmm?"

"Being called your husband," he purred, smirking lightly before letting his lips descend upon yours. His hands pushed to grip at your thighs now, pawing at the meat of your inner thighs to hoist you into his lap, and keep you spread for him.

You let out a shuddering breath when his fingers danced down either side of your crotch; Daemon smirking when you whimpered as he pet to the sides of your sopping hole. "Daemon," you whispered, stomach knotting in anticipation, "if you do not stop now, we will not anytime soon."

He sighed, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck as his fingertips danced down your glistening slit. "I know you are right, but fuck, dove, you smell divine."

"Wait until we're home," you whispered, licking the shell of his ear after to save yourself from releasing a desperate cry as he added slightly more pressure. "I don't want us seen for the rest of the night, my Prince."

"'S still early," he pointed out.

"Exactly," you panted, cunt contracting as he simply toyed with your lower lips; spreading your arousal as you resisted the urge to hump into him. "Daemon," you warned now.

"Too much, my love?" he teased.

"Do not make us land with me bouncing on your cock, hmm?" You returned, hearing him chuckle lowly. His fingers retracted and you almost whined in disappointment.

"Fine," he relented, readjusting to hold your hips over your black dress. "I will resist this sweet cunt, but when we get in, we are not leaving the bed. Hmm?"

You smirked, "I would not want to. Might we be interrupted?"

"I might have, possibly, alleged... Told Viserys not to bother us," he admitted, shrugging some as his eyes casted down. "Hmm, speaking of home," he nodded, your head twisting to gaze down at the approaching city. "C'mere, dove," he sighed again, twisting you so you were forward in the saddle; straddling the dragon with your Prince's hands tight over your hips. "You're a natural up here, you know?" He mused gently in your ear, hands moving over yours to properly position them on the pommel of the saddle.

"I have a decent teacher," you mused, now eagerly peaking over scaly shoulders.

"Is that right? He take you flying often?"

"Hmm, no," you answered. "Though I think I might be interested in trying it more. Think he'd be willing to lend some time to me?"

"Who could say no to someone like you, princess?" He teased in your ear, Caraxes soaring lower to loom over the city.

"I am not sure," you smirked over your shoulder, "but it's a damn good thing I find it hard to say no to him, too."

"That right?" his teeth scraped over your ear, making you inhale deeply and grind back against him - relishing in the feeling of his hardening cock that would soon be plunging into you. "Easy, my princess - don't need me finishing in my pants and giving us away now, do we?"

You sighed lightly, "Guess not."

He chuckled, pecking your neck before taking control of the dragon's reigns, whispering, "I cannot say no to you, either, my dove."

Your hand rose to pet over his cheek with a hum, his chin resting on your shoulder; the Dragon Pit coming into view, and after circling it, Caraxes was landing with a distinct thud and bellowing roar.

Your lungs had stuttered in nerves but one of Daemon's hands smoothed around your hips to keep you anchored against him as you rocked dangerously upon landing. When the dragon was stable, Daemon loosened his grip to peer around at you, "You all right, dove?"

"Yeah," you sniffled. "Bit rougher than I thought, but all right."

"You will get used to it, my love, promise," he promised, nudging his forehead to your temple for a brief moment. "All right, c'mere," he sobered up, grabbing your few bags, and dismounting first. When standing on the dragon's hide, he tossed your things to a guard on the ground, and reached up for you. "I've got you," he assured, easing you down from the saddle.

You grunted lightly when you landed, sighing with slight relief, and telling Caraxes in Valyrian, "Though that was incredible, it is nice to be on the ground again."

The dragon snorted a bit as if in humor, his master smirking as he shouldered your bags. "Come," he ushered, bags strategically placed in front of the tented fabric of his crotch.

Your hand wrapped around his bicep and had to hustle some to keep up with his strong stride, but then an idea came to mind. You looked around the streets you were passing through to reach the Red Keep, finding the one you were in deserted. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you quickly sidestepped into an alcove and yanked Daemon behind you.

Before he could question you, your hands pushed against his shoulders so he was against the stone wall, and only gave him a moment to breathe before your lips were sucking over his. Daemon's throat released a moan while you pushed the straps of your bags from his shoulders, then sliding up to his short hair to twist your fingers between.

Daemon, like a man starving, kissed you with overwhelming need; tongue instantly lapping with your own as his hands held you tightly by your waist, hips, up to your jaw; raking through your own hair, and doing everything they could to keep you close.

Your hips rolled forward into his, making his lungs inhale sharply, and his fingers to bruise your flesh deliciously. With a low growl, Daemon turned you both, shoving you into the brick as if his resolve was crumbling; moaning into your mouth when you tugged his locks.

"Daemon," you panted lightly, petting your fingertips down his cheek.

"Yes, my love?" He whispered, licking into your mouth again.

You hummed, hand moving to steel around his neck and jaw to force his lips off yours. "Listen to me," you grinned, clinging to him as if a young Lady - new to love. He nodded, nose nuzzling yours. "The estate is settled, and the new Lord reigns. Everything went to plan, my Dragon."

"He's buried?" Daemon checked, switching to his native tongue in case of anyone lingering. "Gone?"

"Gone from us," you promised, caressing his cheek after. "I am yours, my love..."

"Fucking finally," he groaned, surging forward again to capture your lips in a grinning-kiss. "You're all I've ever wanted, my princess. Fuck..."

"The moment it's acceptable, I will marry you," you promised, kissing him again.

"My love," he chuckled, pecking your lips happily, "if you do not control yourself, I will take you right here."

You sighed with a small whine, bottom lip pouted. "Sounds ravishing."

"My dirty girl," he seethed, kissing you once and forcing himself away. "Gods," he paused, breathing through his nose as he tried to force the blood from his engorged cock - but nearly crumpled when your hand palmed over him. "Dove - "

"I will thank your brother for welcoming me back," you promised, giving a squeeze, "and then I will fuck you all night. Three weeks was far too long."

"How we went a decade, I'll never know," he cleared his throat, losing the battle to press into your working hand. "Sweetheart..."

"Do not lose this," you purred against his mouth, "I want you to cum in my mouth first."

Daemon whimpered when you let go, biting your lip with a knowing grin. "Dangerous woman," he cursed, forehead to yours. "And now I must see my brother? Like this? Truly?"

"Or you can wait for me," you whispered in his ear, "and be naked when I return."

Daemon let his teeth gnash across your neck. "We will see the King," he decided, pulling back to inhale deeply, "and then I will show you where we are residing."

"'We'?" you questioned gently.

He smirked, nodding, "I might've bargained for a better set up for us, my dove."

"What does that mean?"

"A bigger, much more private room," he smirked. "For you and I only."

You fought the grin threatening to overtake your face, "I'd like that."

"Good," he whispered, pecking your lips gently. "You deserve it all, my sweet."

This time, you lifted your chin to let your nose brush up his, "So long as I have you, my Prince, I am overly blessed. You're all I need."

"Good," he beamed, caressing your cheek. "Come, the faster this is over, the sooner I can have you in my mouth."

You smiled and took his arm again; bags on his shoulder once more to cover his trousers, and within minutes, you were entering the Red Keep. Perhaps it was a simple stroke of good luck that Ser Strong was seen, Daemon calling his name.

"Ah, my Prince," the Hand greeted, stealing a glance at you. "And my Lady, what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Do you know where my brother is?"

"In his chambers," Strong answered. "He's not in the best of states at the moment, Your Grace."

Daemon only hummed and lead you past the Hand of the King; barely letting you sputter your thanks before you were pulled around a corner. "Where are we going?" You asked as he lead you to a part of the castle you've never been in before.

"To see the King, and give our thanks," he eased. "Do not fret, my dove, you will need to get used to visiting the King in his private residence."

"Seems out of place for me," you mentioned.

"You will be the Princess of the City, my sweet," he smirked, "and you will never be out of place. Come," he soothed, leading you up to a pair of doors.

An hour later, you and Daemon were bowing out of the room, and leaving Viserys to rest. He asked of your husband's funeral, and when you informed him of your step-son coming to court this season, he was most intrigued to meet the new Lord. He was a kindly old man, and Daemon just smirked proudly as he watched the two of you catch up and chat.

By the end, Viserys was tired, and let you and Daemon take your leave. His raging hard-on had soothed some, no longer requiring your bags to be used to strategically hide his crotch. However, when you left the King, Daemon smirked and laced your hands together before leading you towards a separate tower.

"Love?" You wondered, watching him check up and down the hallway before prying a large portrait from the wall; swinging out to reveal a lone hallway.

"Private, just for us," he muttered, leading you through the doorway, and showing the mechanism that would keep the door secure.

"Who'd you have to kill for this, my Prince?" You sighed patiently, the hallway short, and leading to another door.

"It was closed off," he admitted, "but I convinced Viserys it would be good for us until we're publicly married. It's been renovated during your leave."

"Your brother is doing us too many favors," you frowned slightly, entering the new room. "Gods," you breathed, looking all around in wonder. The room was large, circular, and already fully furnished.

"He's happy to help," Daemon answered, watching you soak in the surprise. "Well? Do you like it?"

"Love it, my Prince," you beamed, nodding in reassurance.

"Good," he nodded. "It's ours if we wish to keep it past our wedding night."

"Maybe," you admitted. "The privacy is to die for."

"Thought you might appreciate it, my dove," he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist to peer out of the balcony doors. "It's ours, then."

"For now," you mused.

"Hey?" He let his lips press to your neck.

"Daemon," you turned in his arms, sighing lightly, "have you not given thought to what we are to do after we marry?"

"Besides have babies?" he mused lightly.

"Besides that, yes," you chuckled. "Where we might live, Daemon. You are second son, and I am but a daughter - set to marry for the second time. There are no lands in my name," you sighed, petting over his chest, "and I cannot offer you anything."

"You are enough for me, my love," he promised. "And we can live where we choose - that I promise you. Worry not," he sighed lightly, leaning in to press his lips to your forehead.

"What of the Stepstones?" You wondered, chin pressed to his sternum as he hummed.

"What of them, my sweet? To live?"

"Are you not King there?" You teased lightly. "Maybe it has the making for a new kingdom... Just needs a bit of man power to ensure it goes to plan, hmm?"

Daemon nodded, "Only problem, my love, is that the Stepstones are temperamental and unpredictable. Hardly a place to raise a family."

"Where would you raise our children?"

He paused a moment to consider your words, asking, "In truth?"

"Please."

He sighed, "Perhaps... On Dragonstone, but with family around. I grew with my brother, mother, father, cousins - aunts, uncles..."

You nodded sadly, "Perhaps we could..." Your shoulders shrugged lightly, "Stay here? Where you are with your brother?"

"No," he spoke with conviction, pulling your face to his so he could see you in full, "for this is not a city to raise a family in. Our children will be free of the burdens this capital brings."

You nodded, "So, where, my Prince?"

He chuckled, "I hear Lys is nice."

"And Pentos," you added.

"And parts of Essos."

"Maybe even Dorne."

"Maybe not," he chuckled lightly. "Wherever we want to go, my sweet, we will. For now, do not fret, we have time to plan our next move."

"Being a wedding," you smirked.

"Hmm," he paused, "no, I believe it would first be to court you - then I'll marry you."

You chuckled and rocked onto your toes, agreeing, "I cannot wait."

"At the end of this season, you will be mine," he beamed, nuzzling his nose with yours. "And I might start actually thanking the Seven."

"Oh," you laughed, watching his lips almost involuntarily spread, "it's that serious, is it? Moved to religion, are you?"

Daemon smirked and leaned in close, slowly kissing you before whispering, "I've finally got the woman of my dreams, yeah... Yeah, I'm moved to religion, my princess. I've waited too long for this."

Your throat felt thicker than before, your toes pushing you up to wrap your arms around his neck; burrowing into his warmth, and feeling his arms tighten around you. "You'll never be without me," you promised him, petting down the back of his head before threading your fingers through his short locks. "I love you, Daemon..."

He breathed a sigh of relief, lips puckering to place a kiss along your shoulder, "I love you more, my sweet dove."

part three: Darkening Hour

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requesting rules and masterlist

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dreamcatcher92 · 7 months

Text

Coercion Chapter One

So this is my second smut story that I have been working on. I am hoping you all enjoy!

It is a bit dark. Yes, Billy Russo is of course our main character aside from a girl named Cassidy. Who is completely made up and meant to be played by the reader. The other characters that are mentioned in this story are made up as well and not based on anyone in particular. I did this one differently than my first story, but I wanted to switch up my writing style a bit. So you may see more differences in other stories to come. Things that are bold and italicized are thoughts.

Now for some warnings for the entire story but necessarily in the current chapter you read: dark Billy for sure, non-con, dub-con, kidnapping, NSFW, 18+, smut, sex, rape, attempted rape, physical violence, abusive behavior, language. I think that covers it, but sorry if I missed something.

Read at your own risk.

It’s been eight days since Cassidy’s kidnapping. She is being kept in a tiny room with just a stained twin sized mattress and an old bucket. The door to her room is like the rest of the girls’ doors. They all are metal doors with small windows and metal bars.

The other girls had been there much longer than she had and the stories they told her were like those from a horror movie. They explained to her that this was some sort of trafficking ring, and men from all over came there to buy some of the girls. That’s why they were constantly bringing in what the men called “new inventory.” Girls were made to do several different things, and if they disobeyed or messed something up, they were punished.

When men come in to make their purchases, they are shown the polaroid photographs of each girl and can choose whoever they want to see. Then, the girls are brought into a big room where they are lined up and inspected by the buyer. Whoever isn’t chosen is taken back to their rooms, while the ones being sold are whisked off somewhere else.

Screaming and yelling can be heard off and on all day and night. Cassidy had been chosen a couple times to mop the floors of different rooms and to pass out lunch and dinner to the other girls. Whenever Cassidy was taken from her room to do a job, one of the men who stood guard would follow her and watch her every move. She learned through hearing him talking to some of the other guys that his name is Simon. Cassidy was petrified and did everything that she was told to do to not get hurt, or worse.

A few days ago, one of the girls named Madison slapped a guest that had come to make a purchase. During his inspection, the man was touching each girl anywhere he pleased. Madison hadn’t been there much longer than Cassidy, so when the man began touching her, she got very uncomfortable and angry. When the man cupped one of Madison’s breasts, she smacked him across the face. Immediately, she knew that she had messed up and began apologizing profusely.

Madison was separated from the others being looked at, and once he was finished, the men were told to bring all the girls into the big warehouse room. Standing in the center was the man who Cassidy believed to be in charge. The other six men standing around seemed to do whatever this guy told them to do. She overheard Simon and another guy talking one day about this man while she was mopping floors. They said his name is Vinny. He didn’t sound like a very pleasant person to be around from the conversation they were having about him.

Madison was then brought back into the room and told to stand in front of the line of girls. She was crying and pleading for forgiveness and another chance. However, the girls were about to witness what happens if you piss off Vinny or embarrass him in front of a client.

“Ladies, let this be a warning for you all. I don’t fuck around when it comes to my business. I was made to look like a fool in front of one of my clients today by this little bitch right here. If any of you try what this whore did, this is what is going to happen.” Vinny said in a stern and harsh voice as he turned and looked at Simon. “Go ahead Simon.”

Simon walked over to Madison who was crying and didn’t dare move from where she stood out of sheer terror. She looked at the girls and was barely able to open her mouth to say something before a bullet was put into her skull. She fell to the ground, dead.

Some of the girls screamed and were crying, while others were in such shock that they couldn’t move or make a sound. Cassidy stood and watched the blood pool around Madison’s head. She didn't know what to think or do. Di-did that just happen? Holy shit. I have to get out of here. Moments later, the girls were forcibly led out of the room and back to their bedrooms.

Once everyone was locked in, Jacob, the man that Cassidy hears Simon talking to the most, yelled down the long hallway, “There will be no food for anyone tonight! You can thank the slut for that one. Lights out!”

Cassidy leaned back against her door and slid her way down to the floor. She began to cry. How could someone just kill another person like that? He showed no sort of emotions after he shot Madison. In fact, thinking back, Cassidy thought she remembered seeing Simon smirk down at Madison’s dead body.

“I said lights out!” Jacob yelled, only now he was standing right outside of Cassidy’s door.

She jumped to her feet and quickly switched the light off. The last thing she wanted to do right now was piss these guys off any more than they already were. She then took a few steps away from the door.

She heard his large footsteps go down the hall and she let out a deep sigh of relief. She walked over to her tattered mattress and laid down on her back. She would look up at the ceiling every night and imagine herself lying on a beach. The waves crashing on the shore, seagulls flying overhead, she sometimes thought she could even smell the saltwater in the air. She always stayed in her dreamland until she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Cassidy jolted awake when her door swung open and hit the wall. Simon walked in and she instantly felt her heart sink. Her immediate thought was if she had done something wrong. Was this about not turning her lights off when she was told the first time?

“Get up!” Simon yelled.

Cassidy sprang to her feet and began to shake in fear. She could hear other girls being rounded up as well down the hall. She then thought that maybe this was going to be something else like last night. Simon grabbed her arm and forced her down the hall, up a small set of stairs, and back into the warehouse room.

“Move it!” men yelled to the girls as they filed in and were placed in a small line-up.

“What’s going on?” Cassidy shakingly whispered to the girl on her right.

“Shut up!” a man yelled.

Cassidy stood up straight when he yelled, and tears filled her eyes. She had no idea what was happening, but she was glad that she wasn’t alone. Four other girls, Sienna, Tessa, Heidi, and Macie were there as well. They all stood and trembled in fear while they waited for what was to come next. Breathe Cass, breathe.

Suddenly, a door opened and in walked Vinny and another man who was very well dressed. He wore a black suit and tie with freshly shined black oxford shoes. His hair was combed back neatly, and he kept a serious look on his face.

“Ladies, this is a new and very wealthy client of mine, Mr. Russo. I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. We don’t want another mishap like last night, do we?” Vinny said as he chuckled and looked at Mr. Russo who was not at all amused.

“Let’s just get this done.” Mr. Russo said, sounding annoyed as he stepped towards Sienna who was at one end of the line.

He looked her up and down, then moved onto the next, and so forth. When he got to Cassidy, she was looking at the floor and too scared to look up. He lifted her head by placing his index finger under her chin and pushing up. Time seemed to slow and Cassidy felt like she was going to puke from her nerves.

She was now looking into his dark eyes. As he looked at her, she felt like he was staring straight into her soul with how intensely he was looking at her. After a few moments, Mr. Russo turned around and walked back over to Vinny.

“The one at the end.” Mr. Russo said.

“Sienna?” Vinny asked as he pointed in her direction.

“No, her.” Mr. Russo snapped and pointed.

Cassidy glanced over and realized he was pointing straight at her. Her heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest. She couldn’t move. She was terrified. Me?! No no no no no no, please God no.

“Luke, Eli, take the others back. Simon, take the young lady to prep her for departure. Mr. Russo, if you’ll come with me, we can finalize everything and get you two on your way.” Vinny said with an uncomfortably big smile on his face.

Simon grabbed Cassidy’s wrist and took her through a different door than the one she had come through earlier. They walked down a short hallway, through another door, and into a bathroom. Cassidy was so confused as to what was going on and what she was supposed to do. All she knew was she was frightened and wished that she could run away from all of this.

Simon shoved Cassidy further into the bathroom, “Get cleaned up and put the clothes on that’s over there.”

Get cleaned up? How? There’s no shower, just a disgusting toilet and a grungy sink. She looked over and saw a yellow dress hanging on the wall. On the floor beside the sink was a washcloth, towel, and a bar of soap. All of which were clearly used.

“You’ve got ten minutes, so you better fucking hurry.” Simon yelled as he slammed the door shut.

Cassidy undressed quickly and tossed her ripped up nightgown, dirty underwear, and bra aside on the floor. She washed the best that she possibly could with the resources she had. After drying off, she walked over to get dressed. She grabbed the dress off the hook and was startled by a loud sudden noise behind her.

The door swung open, and Cassidy gasped as she used the sundress to cover her naked body. Simon walked in and shut the door behind him. He started making his way toward her. He had an animalistic look in his eyes.

“I-I’m almost done. I’m hurrying, I promise.” she said nervously.

Simon grabbed the dress, yanked it from her hands, and tossed it aside. He grabbed her by the hips and shoved her backwards onto the concrete wall. She frantically tried pushing him off her, but he was too strong.

“What are you doing?! Get off me!” she yelled.

“You’re not leaving here until I get a piece of that ass of yours.” Simon said as he spun her around to face the wall.

Cassidy screamed, “Stop it! Let go of me! Please, stop it!”

Simon shoved her face against the wall and started undoing his pants, “Shut the fuck up! You know you want this, you dirty little whore.”

She fought him as hard as she could, but he easily overpowered her. Suddenly, the door swings open. Vinny and Mr. Russo could hear the commotion and intervened just in time. Mr. Russo grabbed Simon and jerked him backwards. He turned Simon around and punched him so hard that with just one punch, Simon was on the ground out cold.

Mr. Russo then turned to Cassidy. She was huddled into the fetal position against the wall. She wanted to disappear. She just wanted all of this to stop.

Mr. Russo grabbed the dress off the floor and handed it to Cassidy, “Put this on.”

She sniffled and got back onto her feet, “Y-yes, sir.”

After slipping the cotton garment over her head, the pair pushed their way past Vinny, who was apologizing abundantly to Mr. Russo, and made their way down the hall. They made it to the garage where his black sports car was parked. Cassidy was tensed up as Mr. Russo forcefully guided her along with one hand on her back. They walked up to the vehicle and she took a deep breath.

He opened the passenger door and said in a firm voice, “Get in.”

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