#justice for silver please | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

controld3vil · 6 months ago

Text

the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole.

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead.

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle.

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one.

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification.

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that.

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts.

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother.

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding.

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often.

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper.

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you.

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes.

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.”

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb.

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially.

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality.

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob.

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds.

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?”

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,”

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy.

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned.

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier.

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered.

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you.

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze.

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage.

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish.

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are.

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle.

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential.

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced.

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies.

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses.

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship.

“No,”

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply.

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying?

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects.

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,”

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly.

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.”

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover.

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen.

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city.

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another.

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face.

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king.

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure. You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this.

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself.

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire.

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome.

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.”

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes.

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you.

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted bloodshed as much as him.

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incorrectbatfam · 5 months ago

Note

The Wayne Olympics. But instead of an Olympics style event, it’s the Wayne kids plus their friends partaking in one unhinged event after another.

Barbara puts together the opening ceremony with Cass as the Assassin's Creed torchbearer someone please draw this

Damian and Jon are the judges, rating them on Fabulousness, Memeability, and How Many Heart Attacks Will Bruce Have

Bruce is in the audience will 15 cups of coffee because no way he's falling asleep now (the Justice League is mildly concerned)

Kate and Selina team up against Harley and Ivy in the Queer Women's Volleyball Escape Room

Dick and Wally win the Synchronized Time Travel Gymnastics medal by performing their routine with dinosaurs

Luke easily wins in Chess Boxing even though he overslept and showed up late

Harper scales the Wayne Enterprises tower instead of rock climbing and Cullen is her cheerleader

Tim, Kon, Bart, and Cassie win the Intercontinental Quadathalon, starting from Argentina and ending in South Africa (the four events are running, swimming, biking, and skateboarding)

Bette enters the Laser Rollerblading Table Tennis event using batarangs instead of paddles

Duke and his friends get the gold in Arctic Tandem Mountain Biking

Steph and Lois go head-to-head in the Taekwondo Cooking competition and both get silver to Alfred

Helena finishes first in Underwater Soccer and when Italy asks if they can have the medal she refuses

Jason and Roy enter the shooting contest. Somehow that Turkish guy shows up and beats them both

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lovebugism · 5 months ago

Note

you’re writing for carmy now omg i’m frothing at the mouth 😭 i love the trope where reader is quiet in bed and needs to be coaxed a bit but… i feel like it would be kind of hot if reader was the one coaxing carmy? 👀 no worries if you’re not feeling this one!

ty for requesting! — you teach the bear how to use his voice in the bedroom (new relationship, inexperienced!carmy, experienced!reader-ish, smut 18+)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Carmy never notices when he’s quiet. His head is always so loud in comparison — it’s easy to forget he isn’t saying anything out loud when his mind’s constantly racing. He doesn’t mean anything by it, though. He’s just chronically observant. And painfully silent with it.

He lays on his back, pressed between unmade sheets and your warm body. The covers bunch at your bare hips as you roll in languid thrusts over his lap. A satiny summer breeze smooths over your burning skin from a cracked-open window. Every time the curtains billow, more of the moonlight peeks in. It drips in silver shades over your naked skin and your pretty face, now twisted in a look of undeniable pleasure — brows scrunched, eyes closed, mouth wide open.

Carmy’s tattooed hands rest impatiently on your hips. His fingers dig into the plush of them as he rocks you back and forth over his cock. You make pretty noises for him every time your clit brushes his coarse thatch of pubic hair, so he angles his hips just right to make sure you keep hitting that spot.

“Carmy,” you moan in a whimsical sigh that makes his chest swell. “Just like that. ’S so good like that. Please don’t stop—”

His face, made of dark shadows and sharpened edges, is pinched in a look of acute concentration. A distant feeling of deja veux swims in his stomach. It makes him wonder if he’s seen this in a painting before. One of those Renaissance types. The kinds that are harrowingly realistic and always heart-wrenchingly beautiful in a way.

It makes him want to draw you. Just as you are now. Head tossed back, mouth gently agape, lashes fluttering over glowing cheeks. He wouldn’t be able to do any of it justice, but he tries to memorize the soft lines of your face, anyway.

Your hips slow to a stop. Reality hits him hard.

“Woah, woah— Hey,” Carmy mumbles in protest, brows pinched in confusion when he comes down from the clouds. Through labored breaths that make his sweaty chest rise and fall, he wonders, “What happened? Why’d you stop?”

His icy blue eyes dart over your face, searching for any sign of harm. In true Carmen Berzatto fashion, he immediately thinks he’s done something wrong — that he got too far in his own head and hurt you in some way without realizing. The anxiety is fleeting, but he feels the pinch of it anyway — right where your palm rests flat on his chest, just over his pounding heart.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, similarly panicked. Your bare chest sparkles with a thin layer of sweat and catches the moonlight with every uneven inhale.

Carmy nods rapidly, chestnut curls brushing the pillow. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m— I’m great. Why?”

You exhale a small sigh of relief, growing sheepish under his unwavering gaze. You feel a bit silly for stopping now. “You just aren’t… You aren’t really, you know… saying anything,” you answer shyly.

“Am I supposed to be saying something?”

You giggle quietly to yourself until you realize he’s being genuine. Your smile ebbs as you stammer, “Well, no, it’s just— Some people usually moan, I guess— When they feel good.”

Carmy nods firmly in reassurance. “I feel good.”

“Okay…” you nod back, slower and more unsure.

“I promise,” he tells you, tattooed hands squeezing your sides. He shifts nervously on the mattress, similarly victimized by your adoring stare. “I just… I just like watchin’ you, I guess…”

A shy smile quirks the edges of your mouth as you peer down at the boy beneath you. “You’re sweet, bear,” you coo in a honeyed murmur.

“You’re sweeter,” Carmy insists. You think you see the faintest hint of a grin on his lips, but it’s hard to tell in the low light. “Wanna taste?” he teases a second later.

Wordlessly, you bend down for another kiss, far too chaste for his liking. He almost says something about it until you roll your hips again. The words of protest disappear when he inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” you ask him.

He nods silently, squeezing your sides in a feeble attempt to move you faster on top of him.

“Tell me.”

“Feels good,” Carmy obeys through gritted teeth.

The subtle assurance makes you moan — a pretty, breathy thing that spills accidentally from your opened mouth. All he can think about is getting you to make that sound again.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” he wonders aloud, very innocuously curious.

You nod, brows furrowed as you grind over his lap. The bed frame squeaks quietly when you roll your hips forward. When you roll them back again, he can hear the faint sounds of your wet pussy — the quiet schlick-ing of his cock fucking into you. The two noises play one after the other in rhythmic tandem. The sinful sounds of sex.

Carmy racks his head for something to say in the not-so-silent meanwhile. You watch him get lost in his mind and cup his cheeks between gentle palms. “Don’t think so hard about it, bear,” you say with a wavering smile. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

You duck down to kiss him again. The angle shifts. Carmy bends his knees and fucks up into you, mercilessly and without warning. Your mouth hangs open in another weak moan that fans across his chin.

“That good?” he pants.

“Yes,” you whine. “Carmy— fuck— You’re so deep…”

Babbles spill from your mouth in thinkless slurs. They tumble from your swollen lips with an admirable effortlessness, which Carmy has never thought himself to possess. He tries, anyway, to talk to you with such sinful ease.

“You’re huggin’ me so tight,” he mutters through a clenched jaw. The very first thought to come to mind as the velvet confines of your cunt pulsate around him, squelching quietly in time with his thrusts. “Can feel you throbbin’ around me, babe— Shit— It’s like a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

Your whine fills the quiet bedroom, adding to the symphony of bed squeaking and skin slapping.

Carmy shifts his hips upward. The new angle allows his cock to reach a spongy depth inside you and pins your swollen clit against his happy trail, which now glimmers with a layer of your honey.

“Right there?” he pants.

You nod wordlessly until the words catch up to you. The tip of your nose brushes the bridge of his. “Yes,” you whimper.

His brutal thrusts pick up pace a second later, never wavering in their wicked pursuit. “Let me hit that spot,” Carmy mumbles to himself like a man crazed. “Let me hit that spot, let me hit that spot.”

Pleasure swells within you, overwhelmingly so. It’s a warm and sparkling feeling in the pit of your stomach — a tightening coil, a fraying rope, a dam about to burst. The intensity of your inevitable orgasm frightens you.

“Carmy…” you whimper.

“I know,” he nods sympathetically, right before he plants his feet on the mattress. He strengthens his thrusts, which have slowly started to lose their rhythm. “It’s okay. C’mon. Cum for me— I can feel you fuckin’ drippin’ on me, baby— C’mon.”

Your jaw clenches to fight back the scream clawing at your throat. It comes out in a pitiful whimper instead when you tense over his lap. Your orgasm washes over you in waves that leave you shaking, thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

Carmy goes accidentally silent once more as he watches you, swelling with pride as you reach the height of your pleasure. His light eyes flit over your features in a feeble attempt to memorize them — the furrow between your brows, the wrinkles beside your shut eyes, the spit-slicked sheen to your kissed lips.

You’re painting brought to life. A heavenly thing he can’t believe he gets to touch with unworthy hands.

“That’s it…” Carmy murmurs lowly. The words bubble in his throat and fall from his mouth mindlessly. He doesn’t even have to think about them now. It just feels right to praise you like this. “That’s it. There you go. So pretty… Always so pretty for me.”

As your body racks with aftershocks, you seek refuge in his arms. Your weight rests entirely upon him as your tense limbs slowly relax, but Carmy doesn’t mind. He just wraps his tattooed arms around you and holds your trembling body closer.

“I got you,” he promises through labored breaths, chapped lips brushing your temple with every word. “I got you. ’S okay. You did so good for me, baby. Thank you.”

You don’t have the words to tell him that you should be the one thanking him.

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peachysunrize · 5 months ago

Text

Victory ⥃ boxer!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: after his match, you find him in the locker room and decide to tend to him yourself. Rest assured, the rush of adrenaline in his blood leads to you rewarding him for winning the game.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, porn without plot, breeding, no prep, boxer aemond, bruise & wounds & blood, dirty talk, tell me if I’ve missed something. English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: based on this thot I got yesterday! Anon, if you see this, you made my day with this very very insane ask and I hope this does your thot justice🤭 beta-read by beloved @namelesslosers <3 Reblogs & comments are most appreciated!

You used to hate it at first when you started dating. All the bruises and wounds made your heart clench so hard that you cried for him every day while tending to him.

But now? You have toughened up, and Aemond has gotten better, much better in fact, that he’s now fighting for the semi-final of the season against Cregan Stark.

You remember how he’s always hard on himself when he focuses on a goal he sets, and the past few months have been pretty rough on both of you. However hard to maintain and deal with, you can’t deny how hot it was to have your boyfriend all sweaty and topless throwing punches at his coach, groaning and yelling with each movement.

You watch his platinum hair swing with each punch and dodge in his ponytail, his long limbs harshly knocking his opponent down on the ground. You stand beside Criston, fingers fiddling with the necklace Aemond had given you as a promise of his undying love while he risks his life in the ring.

Cregan, the bulky man he is, launches at Aemond, punching him right in his nose. You can hear the groan of pain that leaves your boyfriend’s lips, but soon, he has cornered Cregan, his fists coming down on his opponent’s face at a fast pace that knocks the poor guy out in less than a minute.

The fight has ended, and your Aemond stands with the judge holding his arm up as the winner, winking at you as the blood drips from his nose and lips, his remaining good eye shining with pride.

He truly makes a sight for sore eyes; silver hair unruly from all the jumping, abs covered in a thin layer of sweat, a very smug smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. The thought of this man being yours makes you desire him even more.

You clap for him, screaming and rooting with Criston and his family from the audience until they lead him to his locker room to tend to him. You follow them closely, finding Aemond sitting on one of the benches with a fresh towel thrown over his shoulders as he takes a swig from the bottle with an open mouth, water dripping on his chin and chest, creating an even more lewd sight for you to devour.

“Leave us please, thank you,” Aemond says, beckoning for you to get closer as soon as his team empties the room for the two of you.

“Congratulations on your victory, Mr. Targaryen,” you say, stepping towards him slowly, sultry, reaching to caress his angular jawline as he spreads his thighs for you, making room to stand before him.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he replies, dropping his bottle on the floor before his gloves and hands make a home on your thighs, slowly caressing the flesh, nodding when you show him the kit his doctor has laid next to him to tend to his wounds.

He visibly relaxes under your touch, wincing and exhaling sharply as you slowly clean the blood off of him, one hand holding his face straight gently while the other dabs a wet clean cloth with betadine around the open wounds. He is gazing up at you through his long light lashes, his thin lips curled into a smirk as he basks in your warm and welcoming touch.

You press a kiss to his forehead, grimacing when your eyes fall on the bruises on his nose and close to his good eye, shaking your head in disapproval. You know there won’t be a change, but you will tell him silently that you don’t wish to see him hurt, that he should care more about his health rather than these games that put his life in dear danger.

You help him pull his hands out of the boxing gloves, the fabric of the gloves torn and your boyfriend’s knuckles are bloody and bruised as well. Sighing softly, you grab his hand, bringing it to your mouth before pressing gentle kisses over the wounds.

He hums softly, his free hand coming back to rest on your thigh, observing you closely as you lean down again to clean his face, wiping the remaining sweat and blood off his skin. His fingers trace shapes on the curve of your ass, long digits praising you wordlessly on your choice of wearing a dress, making it much easier for him to ogle at you.

You can feel the path his eye takes when he lifts the hem of your dress a little, humming with every inch of your skin that comes into his view. You grip his jaw tighter, forcing him to look up at you.

“I have a pretty face, you should keep your eyes on that and your hands to yourself,” you whisper, leaning down to press a warm kiss on the bruise on his nose, “maybe I’ll take pity on you later when we get home.”

“You do have a pretty face, sweetheart,” he says, staring at you with his hooded eye, hands creeping up to your buttocks, “but I need more than just that. Maybe you can offer me your pretty cunt as a reward? I won the game, I deserve it.”

“You need to stay still and stop talking,” you giggle when he pinches your flesh playfully, pulling you even closer to have a better view of your teats in front of his face, “I won’t give you a reward for not getting yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on—” With a tight grip on your waist, he pulls you down on his lap, forcing you to straddle him with your legs on each side of his thighs. You squeal, arms coming down to wrap themselves around his broad shoulders, “stop playing coy with me. I saw you rubbing these pretty thighs together when I had Stark on the mat, punching him in the guy. I’m more observant than you think.”

“Are you now?” You hum when you feel the subtle bulge in his shorts, “so observant, so strong,” you mumble against his cheek, starting kissing his jaw down to his ear, letting him grind your hips down against his growing desire.

“Hmm, baby, I need you,” he tilts his head, giving you more space to prep his neck with kisses, licking a drop of sweat from his throat to the side of his jaw, sinking your teeth into his skin slightly before he grows impatient and cups your cheek and guides your lips to his, his mouth claiming yours in a deep passionate kiss.

Your tongue moves along his, fighting for dominance which you lose pretty quickly. You reach around his head to pull the hair tie off, letting his silver locks fall freely on his shoulders while he kisses you for a long hot minute, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Let me take care of you, my victorious man,” you mutter against his lips as the two of you breathe the little air between your faces, your clothed pussy rubbing against the rough fabric of his shorts with each move.

He groans against you, his restrain running thin with each second that you spend on marking his already marked neck, hips snapping up into you desperately. But he is not known for his patience, nor his temperament, so when he grabs your face, his bruised fingers digging into your cheeks, you know what is about to come.

“Be a good girl and take out my cock, I can’t wait any longer for you to be gentle with me,” he growls against your lips, his fingers pushing your panties to the side, “I won’t consider myself a winner if I don’t make you come on my cock at least two times.”

You whimper pathetically, reaching inside his boxer shorts to pull out his already leaking shaft, stroking him to full hardness. He is twitching in your palm, his heat and girth make your mouth water, and the way his fingers caress your inner thighs only urge you to guide him closer to you.

Holding yourself up a bit with your knees on the bench he’s sitting on, your lips meet his in a messy kiss as you sit on his cock slowly, feeling the beat of his heart against yours with how hard adrenaline is pumping through his veins.

His cockhead breaches your wet entrance, making the two of you gasp and whine as your warm walls envelop him slowly with every inch of him you take inside you.

“Good girl, taking me so well,” he says with a raspy chuckle, his large hands covering your ass completely as he helps you sheath his cock deep inside you fully, “prettiest girl with the prettiest cunt, now ride me, baby. Make a winner out of me.”

Your brain is already mush, you nod at him, hands bracing themselves against his shoulders as you roll your hips to his liking, skin melting against the skin with each move and grind.

He reaches to pull down the neckline of your dress, leaning down to litter butterfly kisses all over the top of your breasts while he helps you move up and down his cock quicker.

You know what he wants, what he needs, so with one tug, your teats are free from the confine of your bra, and Aemond latches onto your nipple like a starved baby needing to be fed — although he is anything but a baby with how roughly he bites and sucks on your bud, blowing air on the wet flesh that has you shivering and moaning out his name in pleasure.

Matching your enthusiasm, Aemond plants his feet on the ground, snapping his hips up into yours at a wild pace, fucking your heavenly cunt at a brutal pace that has you biting his shoulders to muffle your cries of euphoria.

His nails dig into your flesh while his bruised and bloodied face searches yours for his tongue to lick its way into your mouth. Aemond keeps up his fast pace, pistoning his cock into you with abandon as he bites your bottom lip and sucks on your tongue.

Your release is swift and smooth and world-shattering — your vision goes white for a second when the tip of his dick jackhammers your sweet spot for a good minute. Gushing around his girth, you moan into his mouth as your wetness drips out of you with each rough thrust.

Aemond somehow fastens his movements, driving his cock up into your soaked pussy quicker, deeper, and rougher if possible, chasing his sweet release. His breaking point is when you whisper in his ear about how sexy he looked when he was beating Cregan to the pulp, how you wish he would manhandle you on his bed and fucking you like you mean nothing to him.

He comes harder than ever with a loud groan of your name, hands clamping hard on your waist that you are sure there’ll be bruises that match his in a few hours. He fills you with his hot cum to the brim, his cock twitching deep within your core as he gives you all he has.

Breathless but not done, he kisses the corner of your mouth and whispers, “What a good fucking girl for me. Now, you need to give me the other half of my prize.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond #modern aemond targaryen #boxer!aemond targaryen #rue:smut #pwp

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mellowwillowy · 10 months ago

Text

TWST x Self-aware Yan Cannibal AU Ft: Unhinged GN Reader

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐮𝐥

Unbirthday party has always been a merry occasion for 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐮𝐥. Not only does he get to eat the strawberry tarts, but he also gets to have Trey's meat pie specialty.

Pigs who dared to enrage the tyrant by upsetting you, the law, are sent to the kitchen for the butcher and baker to process into something edible.

The card soldiers cheer in joy and anxiety, pleased to be able to taste the main course yet sweating over the idea of screwing up and ending up on the silver platter.

Yet part of them does not really mind if it's meant that they will be devoured by you, the law, their grace. Ace and Deuce have always irked Riddle but the sight of you smiling along with their pranks and mischiefs save them from the trouble they are about to face.

Cater will always upload it on magicam, boasting the sight of you enjoying your stay in 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐮𝐥 as you nibble on the tart. Baked and minced to your favorite, as usual. Trey and Cater sure know their way around this, memorizing how you like it by heart.

"Looks like you two are having a hard time cleaning the guillotine huh?" You stopped in front of the guillotine, watching the other students along with the ADeuce duo wiping the blade that had severed yet another pig for you to feast on soon.

"Uh yeah, troublesome as always, I hate having this bloody mess all over my hands." Deuce furrowed his eyebrows, waving his hands for you to see. Ace immediately elbowed Deuce, "Dude, you are splattering the blood all over me!"

You chuckled at the duo before turning back your focus on Riddle and his chaperones, "I assure you, those blood does taste good too if you know your way around it."

Trey and Cater raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other, seemingly knowing what they would present for you at the next Unbirthday party.

"Is that so? Then I'll make sure to have your Grace have a taste of it at our next tea party."

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰

It's only natural to see the beasts ripping the guts out of the prey with their bare fangs. 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰 surely offers an entirely different vibe when it comes to banquets.

Until Leona signals them, the beasts are nothing but starving predators, ready to shred the prey into minced meat. But Leona is nothing but a calm and obedient beast when it comes to you, eagerly waiting for you to give him the accord.

One tilt of your head and a nod is all it takes for Leona to snap his fingers, the chosen beasts leaping toward the prey eagerly as their claws and fangs tore them apart.

Jack was the fiercest among the others, even more than his seniors. For someone who held an upright moral integrity, he had it revolved around you and all sense of justice had been laid onto the tip of your tongue.

Ruggie on the other hand only watched in amusement next to Leona, waiting for the next batch of captured prey to be feasted by him. He would not cut line and steal a bite of what's not given to him from you, oh nooo, he was a patient hyena.

Leona cocked his head to you, eyes focused on you while waiting for you to lock your eyes with his, "Should I grab one for you to eat too, your Grace?"

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞

Mostro Lounge has always offered the best dining experience. It is not to be doubted again that 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 is most definitely going to serve you the finest meal, personally handled and cooked by the Tweels.

And of course, those who fail to fulfill the terms of Azul's contract have to feel how the merfolks gut them, spilling their whole innards all over as they choose which part is considered the most delectable for you.

From the sophisticated look of the beverage, tinted dark red yet a hue of purple could be seen, giving it a pleasingly aesthetic look for you to fawn over before you drink it down.

On the silver platter was a heart, decorated with things you had no idea about but you had seen back in your world. Fancy diners always do that, you thought to yourself.

"Only the best part for your Grace." Jade bowed down as he adjusted the plate and utensils. Floyd was grinning from ear to ear as he dusted the sugar cube into your drink, "And something refreshingly sweet for ya' highness!"

You gave them a curt nod before slicing it, Floyd kneeling down next to you while his face rested on your chair's armrest, eyes glimmering in excitement as he waited for your feedback. Jade might not show it in his face but even you could notice how his feet tapped against the carpeted tile, something you'd never see from someone who could stand still for hours without moving like an inanimate object.

You gave them an approving nod and smile as you took a sip from the drink Floyd personally went over length to make for you, "Satisfactory as usual."

A pair of hands clasped on your shoulders from behind, Azul cooed right into your ear "But your Grace, surely it can go beyond that no? We'll make sure of that the next time you choose to feast here."

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐚

Banquet has always been something that is always happening due to Kalim's nature and Jamil has never really found any joy from it.

But all that changes if the banquet is thrown for you. Oh, how the viper ensures himself to go beyond length in preparing the dishes. With Kalim's endless riches, he can use all sorts of ingredients one would never be able to obtain without spending a fortune for their rarity. Only the freshest and best ingredients are allowed to be used for your meal and so are the living meat of the students.

Everything must be set to a T. Kalim may not be a tyrant but when it comes to you? He's unconsciously pointing his fingers and brows scrunched at anything that is not abided by perfection. The lamps are not hung at the right angle, the pillows have not been changed into new pillows and the animals must be paraded in order and not roam like wild beasts. Anyone who just ever makes the slightest mistake will be sent straight to the kitchen as an ingredient. Had it not been for Jamil's suggestion to send them all bruiseless, they would have been beaten until they were nothing but pulp.

You were taking in the sight of the parade, everything was as amusing as you had always remembered. But the true highlight lay in Jamil's cooking, if you have to pinpoint the best cook in this twisted wonderland then it had to be Jamil. Unlike the finery of Mostro Longue, Jamil's cooking had a different feel to it. It was not as aesthetic yet it did not change the fact that it still looked pleasantly delicious. If Mostro Lounge accounted for the positioning of the food in a numerical and angle way, Jamil offered everything in a neat bulk. Curry, prata, shawarma, and all. Its display screamed for people to grab one yet no one dared to unless you ordered them to do so.

You cocked your head toward Kalim who was sitting right next to you, eyes glimmering in adoration as he drunk in your expression. Oh, would you finally like to have a bite? He held one of the shawarma out toward you with an empty plate in his other hand.

Jamil had ensured that there were 2 different platters, one for you which was made from the best ingredients and seasonings, while the other was less if compared to yours but still delicious nonetheless. One was made from meat and blood that had been considered the best while the other was made from those that failed to pass through the requirements.

You took a bite from his hand, savoring the taste of Jamil's hard work while enjoying the show of Kalim's tyranny. Truly, you love being able to taint your beloved sunshine.

"Say say, are you enjoying it all, your Grace? Not even a beat of music missed and all the food that sprawled across the room is ensured to be of the best quality." Kalim brought a goblet onto you and you held it in your hand. He gave you another grin that was just as blinding as the sun, his finger beckoned Jamil to pour you the carmine drink, squeezed from their cries of agony and pain before they were minced.

"But of course, your Grace has no need to hesitate to point something out if it's not to your liking," Jamil chimed in as he watched you swirl your goblet. The two of them stared right into your eyes, eyes enchanted by you despite one being an enchanter, "Because we seek only perfection for your Grace's taste."

𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞 prides themselves in their pitch-perfect diet. So what if their Grace has a different taste in the feast? All they have to do is readjust and tailor the whole dorm's diet to yours.

The fairest one of all, wearing a tiara that shines even brighter than any tiaras Vil has ever seen, truly living up to the radiance you emit just from sitting on the very throne with him standing right next to you.

It appeared that preparing a banquet was a huge feat for 𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞 as they were divided into 2 teams. Team One prepared the whole occasion while Team Two flocked toward you, amusing you with a theatric show as you watched them from your throne.

It appeared that Rook's fascination with the world of theatrics and you worked really well as he 'acted' out the role of a lover professing his love toward the protagonist really well. Strings of bizarre praises and wishes rolled from the tip of his tongue smoothly as though it was by nature for him to act so already.

Epel on the other hand was all energized to drag the qualified livestock into the kitchen after Vil had inspected them all personally. The livestock was to be of a healthy diet, bruiseless and ailment-free before it was allowed to be cooked and feasted by the Grace.

The moment Rook was notified that the whole banquet was ready, a trumpet was blown and you were led to the dining hall which had been decorated to match your attire. Were you wearing something cute, pure, sexy, cool, or pop? Either way, 𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞 never missed a beat in losing its elegance no matter what the theme was.

"Allow me," Rook pulled the chair for you to sit on before he readjusted the platter asymmetrically. Right next to your seat on the right was Vil sitting while the rest of the body stood, not daring to sit unless you allowed them to.

Seeing Epel all giddy observing you, you beckoned him to come to you and he whispered into your ear, "I seasoned it!"

You cocked a questioning eyebrow toward Vil and he could only sigh with a chuckle, "Oh what will I do with your Grace's taste bud?"

Rook poured a carmine red fluid into your glass, its smell told you that it was not made just from a fine wine but rather, a fine blood.

"A fine cocktail of white wine, dyed with a carmine golden drop, hand-picked and squeezed personally by me. Truly, your favorite, your Grace."

𝐈𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞

Honestly, what do you even expect from all these anti-socials? They are nothing but a bunch of hikikomori yet the Shroud Brothers just know how to surprise you!

Unlike the impractical methods that the others use to earn just a golden drop of blood from the livestock, the dorm has created countless practical devices that help them to create something quickly.

Compressors that grind down the gutless livestock into a fine drink. Shredders that allow them to save time from having to shred from chunk by chunk. And a practical inspection device that helps Idia sort out the best for you to feast on.

Ortho had to be the most eager one of all, singing non-stop as he ensured all were to be finished quickly when you informed him that you would be choosing 𝐈𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞 for your next banquet.

They specialized in efficiency and speed but that did not mean they lacked the skill of cooking a delicious dish. While it may be pale when compared to other dorms, 𝐈𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞 is a great option for when you are craving for something and want it to be on your plate in a short moment. They might not score 12/10 but they were able to at the very least score 8/10. Surprised much? Ortho had been practicing how to cook and all from the data Idia inputted into him.

"Uurgh.. uhh... y-your Grace... so what is the verdict? A level up? Or an increase in the ranking board? O-Ortho is really expecting your answer..."

You raised your eyebrows at his stuttering, "Getting better," you stopped for a moment to chew again, "and delicious."

Ortho immediately leaped toward you from Idia's back, causing him to squeak, his metal arms wrapped around your neck, "I'm glad! Please keep on coming here and I'll make sure to be the best cook you'll ever have!"

Idia brought a napkin over to your face, "Yes... should your Grace ever need for a quick meal, please come by... Me and Ortho... and Ortho... will always be ready at your disposal."

But who were you but the all-knowing God, you knew there was a slight taint of blot in your meal, Ortho, you assumed.

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚

Lilia has to stay away from the kitchen. But don't worry, the bat is entrusted with hunting down livestock for the youngsters to process into something edible.

Malleus on the other hand is ready to strike anyone down with lightning should they make the slightest mistake in the banquet preparation.

Sebek is in charge of inspecting the livestock while Silver is in charge of the most gruesome part of the job (which was appointed by you for fun.) which is gutting. Surely tainting someone so pure like him has to be your favorite feast.

The candles on the table were all lit in emerald hue, fireflies surrounded you as Lilia levitated around you, joyously guiding you toward the dining table.

There you could see Malleus sitting on the second host seat, his hand prompts you to take a seat across from him. Lilia pulled the chair for you to sit before Silver walked out of nowhere, holding a plate of dishes for you to feast on.

Sebek on the other hand had been arranged to stand right next to Malleus, part of him was happy yet part of him envied Silver. Nonetheless, no barks had ever slipped past through his sealed lip.

"Kukuku, the boys went through great details and length in preparing this whole banquet, well, me included. It was fun hunting down these livestock for you," His index finger felt your platter, "it makes me feel like I must pick the ripest for you... feeding you... aa~"

Soon, he brought a forkful of meat sliced by SIlver earlier while you were distracted by Lilia. Malleus smiled at your dazed-out face and the way realization washed over you.

"May your Grace enjoy the blessing that you have graced us tonight." Malleus raised his goblet, urging you to do just the same.

"Cheers!" Lilia wiped your mouth with the napkin, Silver's hand holding out your filled goblet.

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐲 ???

"My words! Did you have fun, hm?" Crowley immediately lunged toward you the moment you entered his office. He gave you the cutest pout you could ever see from him, his cheek rubbed against yours repeatedly.

"Are you jealous, Dire?"

"Of course not! How can someone as magnanimous as I, be jealous of my own fledglings?" And as though to prove to you his seriousness, he even posed ridiculously with his staff.

You cackled at him before giving him a kiss on his cheek, "I'm home, Dire."

Crowley stopped acting up and turned serene, giving you a smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"Welcome home, Master. Dinner's ready as usual."

Oh old times... ???

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curekibouka-writing · 2 years ago

Note

This analysis of Lilia before and after HELP 😭

Interesting that you brought up his voice (because as everyone already knows I will happily dissect any information I can find in Midorikawa’s god-tier voice acting), because we currently have three different categories we can sort his voice into:

1) General Vanrouge voice in 7-55

2) General Vanrouge voice when talking to young Malleus in 7-19

3) Papa Lilia voice in the majority of Twst canon

Some may think that (2) is a transitional phase from (1) to (3) but it might not be. Instead, it’s like what @llondonfog said, Lilia was still using his General Vanrouge voice except he has a decent understanding of how to talk to a child and a prince.

Breaking down each of the three categories I brought up, his voice in (1) is cold but not flat or emotionless. This is most evident when he asked Silver/Sebek/MC "Who are you" in 7-55, because after he knows that they are not the "folk of iron", there is a genuine concern (albeit slight concern) and confusion in his voice when he asked who they were. Basically, he's a soldier but not a killing machine, which fits nicely with Lettie pointing out that he was probably never as prejudiced as Sebek's grandfather.

In (2), the general colour of his voice is still closer to (1) than the usual Papa Lilia we know. Our usual Lilia tends to sound a little bouncy when he talks (because he's so insistent on his cute image), while his tone in (2) is deep and serious. This supports the idea that Lilia is quite fully aware of his identity as a General to a prince. However, as Lettie pointed out, Lilia also spoke with understanding. There is a lot of empathy in his voice even if the energy of his voice doesn't reach the usual level we know of. As much as he is aware of his position, he's also aware that he is speaking to a child who had lost both parents.

So here's where my interpretation kind of differs from Lettie. I don't think Silver taught Lilia of unconditional love and devotion, I think Lilia had always been capable of that deep down because his voice was never emotionless. But there was never a time for him to truly love someone before he met Silver, never a chance for him to figure out how to do it because, again, as Lettie wrote in the HC, it was war, it was life or death. When I listen to Lilia's voice in canon usually (3), I never thought it's a new side of him, I always think this is who he is deep down, who he had the potential to become except war clouded over that potential for 700 long years. Once he adopted Silver, however, and the time of peace blesses the world, he finally has a child to call his own and he is allowed to take his time to find out how to really unconditionally love a human child and how to communicate that love. Not as a mentor to a Prince, but as a father to a son. I honestly think meeting Silver helped Lilia rediscover a part of himself that he had lost for centuries due to wars.

But then again, fighting for centuries does change someone. You can't say General Vanrouge isn't a part of who Lilia is now. Therefore I'm completely sold on the idea that he still remembers in perfect clarity how to vivisect a living body if anyone hurts his precious family 🤭

Hey! For the headcanon game, can I get an 🤬 headcanon for Lilia? But maybe if youre up to it can you give a headcanon for before and after lilia adopted Silver? Because I think while both versions of him have the same triggers (fucking around with someone he's protecting,) I think that General Vanrouge and Lilia have very different ways of going batshit crazy angry. If not that's cool, I always love reading your writing and hope you have a good day!

hc game !

YOU ARE SO CORRECT!! I've actually incorporated this in a few aus before because it makes so much sense? That Lilia would have to learn how to talk to and engage with a child in a softer, kinder way than he would any of his soldiers— and a human one at that! We don't know much of anything regarding Lilia's past (here's hoping Ch7 sheds some light on it), but we do see from the last part how cold and clipped his voice was when addressing those he saw to be humans. I don't think he was ever as prejudiced as Sebek's grandfather, but one could easily understand his brusque reservations when we consider he's been fighting wars for centuries now against them.

(plus we kind of see him confess that in his birthday vignette where he talks about the realization with a hint of regret of how he was training Silver like a soldier when he was just a child.)

(and now that I think about it, it's interesting too how Lilia addresses Silver/Sebek/Yuu in the last part because we know from Malleus' memory that he was fairly congenial and kind to Malleus after his tantrum in the palace. So this is definitely a 'battlefield' voice and mindset that he's in right now.)

I also think it's so fascinating because (my personal hc) of how late we are in Lilia's life that he learns this kind of skill. Yes, he mentored Malleus, yes, he spoke to him with understanding, but also respect for the position that Malleus had— he's the crown prince, Lilia is simply a General in the scheme of their hierarchy. I will die on this hill that Silver was the first to teach Lilia of unconditional love and genuine, sweet devotion, and that irrevocably changed Lilia on a fundamental level.

SO AFTER THAT DISCUSSION—

General Vanrouge HC: His anger is a great and terrible thing of laser sharp focus, honed to the nth degree of brutality. The night sings for him, in him, through him, and the devastation he wields is awe-inspiring for the soldiers that follow like devotees in his footsteps. He's not a cruel leader, never one to humiliate a lower-ranking member for a mistake made in training, but he is an exacting one— he has no patience for the inept and no tolerance for failure. This is war, (one that already claimed the lives of their king and queen), and his only purpose is to serve his ruling family and protect their lands against those that would wish to seize them. There is no room for error, and second chances on the battlefield only end in death.

Papa!Lilia HC: After adopting Silver, Lilia learns to laugh at a lot of things. His son's well-meaning messes, his earnest attempts at soup that end up burning in the pot— these aren't life or death situations, even if the tears welling up in Silver's eyes deem them as such. Lilia weathers the clouds that dampen his child's wondrous eyes with a kiss on his head and a reassuring squeeze, finding what he assumes could only be the sun's warmth soothing his bones where fire once scorched. Silver never sees his father's wrath, not this child of peace. He will never know the madness that his very presence has tamed and stilled behind Lilia's heart, the wildfire now banked into a cozy hearth.

He's slower to anger now, mild in his calculations. There is so much to be gained by conversation instead of confrontation, and he ensures this lesson is taught to Silver not by bloodshed and loss on the battlefield, but from the comfort of his father's lap, held safely between the shielding force of Lilia's arms.

(But if a single hair were to be harmed on the head of his son, if anyone approached his child with ill intent, well. He'd only be too happy to demonstrate that he still remembers in perfect clarity how to vivisect a living body.)

#Kibouka chatters #lilia vanrouge #twst spoilers #twst silver #voice acting analysis #lettie you absolutely did it justice #please forgive my rambling #it's just when someone brings up his voice I brainrot dhuisgfhkje

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targaryenimagines · 7 months ago

Text

The Khaleesi’s Queen

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,559

Summary: Daenerys doesn’t like to be interrupted; not when she has everything she could ever want within her grasp.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, slightly rough (and possessive) sex, oral (R!Receiving).

Author’s Note: Changed up the prompt, which I hope is okay Tried to figure it out the first way, but I wasn’t doing it any justice in the slightest. I suppose this can be seen as a continuation of My Khaleesi, but it can be a stand-alone too. (This is told mainly through Dany’s POV, if you’d like me to make a partner through the Reader’s just let me know!)

Series Masterlist

“Do you take me as some sort of fool, Councilor?”

The question is asked in an airy tone, one that a person would use when making a remark about the weather or the coming crop season, but the fiery undercurrent, like iron piercing through the sky, kept the man it was directed to in place. Violet eyes locked on dark brown, a message clear within them: Speak. Now. I’m running out of patience.

“O-Of cou-course not, Your Majesty,” the man stumbles, trying to alleviate the situation. “I-I just wished to tell y-you what your ancestors used t-to do.”

A sneer works itself across a beautiful face. “Yes,” she drawls, disgust clear in her tone. “But those same ancestors didn’t have the bond I do with my son.” Rising from her chair, Daenerys pins the cowering man in place with her gaze. “What will you have me do, Councilor? Have sex with my queen on the back of my son’s back in hopes of creating another?” She takes another measured step closer. “Do you think I’m unaware of what’s being said about me? That I’m oblivious to the gossip and rumors being spread?” Daenerys is a mere five feet from the man now. “Everyone within the Seven Kingdoms knows about my bond with my children, but you choose to council me into doing something that’d be sacrilegious in their eyes? That’d create even more discord within the land?”

Daenerys pauses then, tilting her head as she surveys the cowering man— from his balding head down to his recently polished shoes— and her gaze darkens further.

“So, I have to ask, do you take me for a fool?” She reiterates. “Because you must if you think I wouldn’t question you or your motives.”

He shakes his head, practically throwing himself at his Queen’s feet. “I-I swear to you, Your Majesty, I’m just a lo-lowly scholar. Ju-Just trying to help.” Fear weasels its way down his spine when he felt her lean closer to him. “I-I swear it.”

A breathy chuckle echoes across the room, barren of any form of amusement. “Oh? You swear it?” Crouching down, Daenerys forces the man to look into violet eyes. “I must believe you then.”

Snapping her fingers, the shadows around the edges of the room come to life as figures clad in obsidian black step from them, silver spears glinting under the light.

“Grey Worm.” The Captain of the Queensguard steps forward, back dutifully straight. “Nādīnagon zirȳla.”

At once Grey Worm, and another Unsullied, step forward and clasp the now begging man under his armpits and begin dragging him from the room. His cries for mercy falling on deaf ears: “N-No. Ple-Please, Your Majesty! Don’t do this. Please.”

Dark oak doors close with a resounding bang, cutting off his pleading.

Silence settles once more over the office, save for the faint crashing of waves against the surf outside and the cries of gulls. If Daenerys closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was back in Essos. Back when things were simple but infinitely more complex. Settling back into her high-backed seat, Daenerys lets loose a soft sigh.

“Did you just have that man executed for telling you something you didn’t wish to hear?” A teasing voice breaks through the silence, the warm cadence of it bringing a smile to Daenerys’ lips. Looking down, she’s met by the sparkling gaze of her wife. “Or did you have that man executed for interrupting us?”

Huffing out a laugh, filled to the brim with adoration, Daenerys pulls you from your kneeling position, placing her hands on your hips once you’re comfortably straddling her. “I didn’t have him executed, ñuha perzys.” She places a delicate kiss to the corner of your lips. “I just wanted to have him leave my presence in a timely manner.”

You nuzzle closer to her. “And to do that you had to scare him? Are you certain it has nothing to do with his untimely entrance?” Wiggling on her lap, Daenerys has to bite back a groan as your familiar weight bears down on her growing erection. One that had found its home in your mouth a mere twenty minutes before— only to be unceremoniously ripped out when the man had knocked, requesting an immediate audience. “I know how you get when certain things don’t go your way.”

“Careful,” Daenerys warns, nipping at your exposed neck. Delighted in the way your breath hitches at the slightest bit of pressure to the small area underneath your jaw. “It’s not polite to tease your Queen.”

Rocking your hips more, you quip back. “It’s a good thing you’re not my Queen then.” Dipping your head, you press a heated kiss to her lips, groaning when her hardness hits just the right spot through her tailored pants. “You will always be my Khaleesi.”

The sound of the title, the first one she had ever truly earned, falling so sweetly from your lips, when the taste of you was still heavy on her tongue, brings a small snarl forth from deep within her chest, rumbling out across the relative stillness of the room. Standing, Daenerys grips you tightly by the waist and deposits you on her desk, uncaring of the various baubles that fall off due to the action. She easily finds her home between your thighs, pressed flush to your beautiful form.

“A Khaleesi is very different from a Queen,” Daenerys purrs, pressing another heated kiss to your lips. Running her tongue against the bottommost one, a husky sound of contentment being made when you let her gain access to the warm heat of your mouth. Fighting for dominance, one that she easily wins, Daenerys plunders further into your mouth, running her tongue along the roof of it, savoring the taste of you. Once she starts to become impeded by the lack of air, she pulls back and nearly comes undone at the wanton expression across your face— kiss swollen lips, lust darkened eyes, a delicate sheen of sweat along your brow. Exquisite. “A Khaleesi takes without question. A Khaleesi is rough, making sure her claim is known, but a Queen is soft, gentle.” Driving her hips into you, Daenerys snarls. “Are you certain you want a Khaleesi instead of a Queen?”

Throwing your arms around her, Daenerys is pressed firmly down, both your fronts flushed together. “Yes,” you hiss, nails digging into her shoulders. “I want my Khaleesi to claim me. To show me that I’ll only ever belong to her.” Your hips cant once more, trying desperately to get some friction. “Show me what a Westerosi Queen could never accomplish.”

At the mere thought of you being claimed by another, at anyone else having the privilege of seeing you come undone, Daenerys’ world view narrows to only you, only bringing you pleasure, so that you’d never think about leaving her.

She’d turn this world into nothing but fire and ash before she’d ever let that happen.

Nostrils flaring due to the possessive fire roaring within her chest, Daenerys takes in the delicate symphony of scents that wash over her due to the action: the sweetness of your bath oils mixed with the heady scent of sweat and the musky undertone of your arousal, strong despite the layers that separated her from the source of it.

“Lean back,” she growls, pressing one last deep kiss to your lips before she began to make her way down your body. Nimble fingers tearing at the buttons and fabric that she comes across, tongue and teeth lavishing the newly exposed skin with attention, until you’re lying delicious bare, save the last bit of your smallclothes, across the dark wood of her desk. The sight of your laid open, and waiting, for her brings a jolt of arousal straight through her body, but she didn’t wish to satisfy her own needs. Not yet. For now, she’d remind you that she’d only ever be the one to give you this sort of pleasure, that no one would ever be able to replace her. Daenerys settles onto her knees between your thighs, rubbing her nose lightly across the patch of darkening fabric at the apex of them. “Don’t even think about cumming until I say you can.” Violet eyes rise to meet your own, expression stern. “Do you understand?”

Nodding, almost frantically, you spread your legs further, giving her more room to maneuver within. Taking advantage of the additional space, Daenerys mouths over your soaking center, tongue flexing against the sodden material that kept it covered from her, as her hands clasped your hips to keep you in place. The sound of breathy moans and pleading whines from above her sending a delicious thrill down her spine.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" The question is rhetorical, she doesn't expect you to answer, but the questioning keen in response brings a soft smile to her lips for the briefest of moments. Pressing closer, Daenerys finally tears at the last barrier keeping you from her, the sight, and the scent, of your glistening center causing her own mouth to water in renewed hunger. "I crave you, ñuha perzys. More and more with each passing moment. I crave to bring you as much pleasure as you can withstand." Daenerys places a delicate kiss to your throbbing clit. "I crave your taste." Lowering her head, she dips her tongue teasingly into your entrance, savoring the flavor that could only ever come from you. "I crave the sounds you make as I ruin you."

Without preamble Daenerys buries her head between your thighs, thrusting her tongue as far into you as she could reach, the keening cry of pleasure tearing itself from your lips music to her ears. You pulse around her tongue, inner muscles flexing, as you try to pull her deeper into your depths, the feeling a reminder of how exquisitely tight you always are for her, something that brings another jolt of arousal coursing through her, making Daenerys aware of the throbbing between her own legs. Forcing her thoughts away from her own need, Daenerys consumes you, tongue lashing across your clit before diving back into your slick hole, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise as she keeps you in place, despite your clear desire to chase whatever friction you could find. Your desperation for her, the clear need you had for her, almost made her take pity on you, almost allowing her to let you fuck her tongue, but the only thing you'd be cumming on in the near future would be her cock -- nothing more and nothing less.

Taking notice of the heightened pitch of your cries, the growling rasp building within your moans, Daenerys knows that you're close, that you're almost cresting the peak of the pleasure she's giving you, which means, with a small bit of reluctance, Daenerys tears herself away from you, tongue running along her bottom lip, savoring the remnants of you upon it. Your responding whine allows for a satisfied smirk to grace her beautiful face, soothed that you clearly wanted her as much as she wanted you.

Maneuvering quickly, Daenerys didn't have time to deal with all of the buckles that she wore, not to mention her boots, she simply opened her zipper and shoved her tailored pants as far down as they would go, her erection finally free once more, poised to claim what had always belonged to her. Rubbing herself against your wet heat, Daenerys arches a brow. "Do you want this?" It was the last warning she would give you before she claimed her wife completely, as a Khaleesi should. "You still have time to choose your Queen."

With a heaving chest, and narrowed eyes, you spit back. "The only woman I could ever want is my Khaleesi." You hook your legs around her hips, arching against her. "So, fuck me."

Not giving you a chance to rethink your words, not that she believed you would, Daenerys thrusts into her wife, the slick channel greeting her like an old friend, the feel of it causing a deep snarl to rumble from her chest. If she could manage running Westeros from right here, then Daenerys would never leave, but the times that she could make herself at home between your legs once more were that much more important to her when she could manage to find the time -- her devotion to you superseding all else barring the devotion she had to her son.

"Yes," you hiss, nails digging harshly into her clothed back. "It feels so good, Dany. So good."

Lowering her head, Daenerys harshly bites the sensitive spot just below your ear, tongue soothing the burn that no doubt appeared due to the action. "You're so beautiful." She nuzzles against a slightly older mark she had left a few days prior, quickly going to work to make it as fresh as the one she had just left. Slamming with more force into you, delighting in the sharp keen that's torn from your lips, and the way you flutter around her, due to the action, Daenerys finally detaches from your neck. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen and you're all mine."

Nodding frantically, you arch against her lithe body. "I will only ever be yours, Dany." Taking her by the face, you press a needy kiss to her lips, all tongue and teeth as you pant against her. Clearly trying to stem off the encroaching orgasm. "I will only ever want you."

"And you'll only ever have me." Legs beginning to burn due to the power behind her thrusts, and the familiar fluttering within her belly, telling her that she wouldn't be able to last that much longer, Daenerys tugs at your bottom lip. "Cum for me, my queen. Cum for your Khaleesi."

As if a switch had a finally been flipped, your body arches completely off the desk, arms and legs slightly spasming, as your inner muscles tighten completely around her, and a fresh wave of wetness coats you both. The feeling coupled with the delicious sight, causes Daenerys to come with her own groan of your name, her hips still softly thrusting as she leads you through the last waves of your own orgasm.

Once you stop shaking, for the most part, Daenerys leans forward and places a delicate kiss to your brow, still firmly planted inside of you, nuzzling against your sweat-stained temple. "You were wonderful, ñuha perzys, but don't think that I've had my fill of you yet." She runs her hands down your sides, rubbing gently across your lower abdomen. "I still have to put my heir in you."

With a delightfully tired smile, you run your fingers through sweat-matted locks, the silvery-gold still looking radiant despite it all. "I love you, Khaleesi."

Violet eyes flutter shut at the title, the affection in which it falls from your lips, warmth suffusing itself within her chest because of it. Cradling your face delicately between her hands, Daenerys confesses. "I love that you still call me that."

You huff out a laugh, pressing a light kiss to her inner wrist. "Even if we're in Westeros now, Dany, you will always be my Khaleesi. No matter what."

"And you," Daenerys replies, adoration clear within her tone and gaze. "Will forever be my darling Queen."

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys #got imagine #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones #house of the dragon #all of the unsullied left by the way #they’re just outside the room now instead of being within it due to daenerys no longer having an outside visitor

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baka-bakeneko · 20 days ago

Text

The Boys are Mine - Wade Wilson [Deadpool] x Logan Howlett [Wolverine] x Fem! Reader

tags: NSFW, no seriously NSFW, MINORS DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, deadpool and wolverine are friendly, deadpool and wolverine enemies to lovers, movie accurate Logan Howlett attitude, possible throuple vibes, service dom Logan Howlett, submissive Wade Wilson, oral, voyeurism [honda odyssey fucks hard], consensual non consent, blood eating, can we call it knifeplay [?], edging, c*ck appreciation, an*l fingering, inappropes an*l training psa [but like also, neh], wrap it before you tap it psa, double penetration, double cre*mpie, slight aftercare

wc: 4.7k

synopsis: You, Wade and Logan go out to karaoke night to bond further.

a/n: the way logan acts in d&w actually gives me brain scratches, so let's hope i did that logan justice. wade...i've muted you baby

"Did they have Brandy and Monica in your universe?" Wade asked, handing over the spare microphone to Logan.

Somehow, Wade had convinced Logan to join your karaoke night. You were sure it was because the drinks were half-priced, and from how your table looked so far, they were stacking up.

Logan snatched the mic from Wade's hand, beer in his other as he propped himself up from the silver streamer wall.

"Just play the damn song," he grunted, one of the two ways he spoke.

Taking another long swig of his beer, he handed off the glass to you as the intro began.

"Don't worry, I'll be Brandy. Keep up, hot stuff," Wade said before speaking the first line of the song, flipping his imaginary hair.

Logan confusedly stared at the screen, reading off his lines tonelessly. You snickered, taking a sip of Logan's beer before waving your hand at the walking waitress.

"Another round of beer, please," you said when she approached the table, helping her clear your wobbly table. "And I'll take an order of those nachos, too."

The waitress nodded, lifting her full tray of bottles and sidling away. Returning your attention to the boys, you saw Logan's eyes follow the young woman's hips on her way to the bar.

You followed his stare, wanting to ogle too. When you turned back to the boys, Wade and Logan were both looking at you.

"Think it's time we got this straight, sit and talk face to face," Wade and Logan sang, their tones a cacophony of grit.

You laughed at them, mostly Logan as he fumbled through singing without actually singing. Of course Wade tunelessly carried the two of them. Looking between them, you were thoroughly entertained by them.

With another round of beers arriving at your table, thanks to Logan's eye candy, you happily finished off the bottle you were handed and set it down.

Picking up another, you looked back to the boys as they were now standing closer to each other; they were a few seconds from teasingly singing 'not yours, but mine' and actively arguing over a boy they were not sharing.

You reached to grab Logan's wrist, handing over your opened beer for him to be coaxed. He grunted into the mic, pulling his mouth away to take a deep swig while winking at you.

You straightened in your seat, crossing your legs before pulling your skirt to full length. With a cheer, the boys left the stage and Logan dropped his microphone to the floor.

A whine in microphone made everyone in the bar cringe in the direction of the stage; Logan slid next to you, bumping his knee at the table to make it wobble. His arm circled around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

His free hand, calloused and hairy wedged between your thighs and kneaded at your leg; you sucked in a sharp breath, one that sounded squeaky as it went down.

Wade raised his lack of eyebrows, popping open his beer cap before taking a drink. "Jeez, let me get comfortable before the show."

Logan growled, sneered, over at Wade before sliding his hand further up your leg; his fingers padded at the sensitive skin previously tucked under your skirt.

"You're not invited," the grizzled man bit back at Wade before leaning in to kiss your neck.

You hummed, your eyes rolling at the invitation of Logan's stubble brushing against your skin. Still, your legs remained clamped even though Logan's thumb began to tease at the front of your panties.

You breathed out, tilting your head away from Logan's wet lips as they migrated down to lick the meet of your shoulder.

Wade cleared his throat and you snapped your eyes open to look at him. You paused, meeting Wade's gaze. His eyes raked over your body, stopping at Logan's hand wedged under your skirt.

"Wolvie's on the prowl, huh?" Wade smirked, taking a sip of his beer. "You're just caught in a little bear trap, eh Logan?"

Logan snarled off of your shoulder, his teeth bared against your skin. "Shut up."

You giggled at Logan's warm breath against you, his thumb carefully peeling your panties aside to let his fingers tempt your clit. Just as he was close to doing so, the waitress returned and you uncrossed your legs to slide Logan's hand out of your skirt.

The waitress smiled, blissfully unaware of your predicament, and asked if the table wanted anything else. Wade sat back in his chair, casually throwing his arm over the back of it.

"Do you know how to make Pink Panties?" Wade asked innocently, grinning up at her.

You widened your eyes at him with Logan's growl erupting from beside you.

"Wade, leave the nice girl alone," you said, meeting his delighted stare again. "I think we'll take the check."

The waitress nodded and flashed a polite grin, then left the table. You turned your glare to chastising just as Logan curled his arm lower around your waist.

Wade's smile slowly fell, offering a nervous huff at you. "Does this mean I'm uninvited?"

You hid a roll of your eyes, glancing over to Logan who was returning his lips to your neck. "I'd uninvite him."

"You say that every time," you teased, hiding a whine when Logan hit a soft spot. "But you still eat him up."

"And I appreciate the enthusiasm." Wade smirked over at Logan, now ignoring Wade as his hand returned between your legs.

You sat back with a deep sigh, allowing Logan's rough hand to run up your thigh again. "Your invitation is golden, Wade."

Logan gruffed against your shoulder, biting tenderly at your skin before looking at the man across the table. "Whatever she says, goes."

"Score," Wade muttered, taking a final sip of his beer. "One last song for the road?"

You sat in the middle seat of the Odyssey, your face in Logan's hands as Wade sat patiently beside you. Even with Logan's lips at your ear, trailing down with soft wisps of his breath against your skin, you were distracted with Wade's equally calloused palm rubbing at your inside thigh to pry them open.

You were selfish in that instant, the conduit for both men to express their frustrated tension with one another. Tilting your chin in Logan's direction, your hand went for Wade's wrist and guided him further to touch you.

Though you felt the leader of this tryst, you both paused at Logan's growl. He parted from your neck, glancing over to Wade's hand managing up your skirt like he had in the bar.

Leaning into your ear, Logan grinned with a specific grit that metered his dominant cruelty.

"Did I say he could touch your pussy?"

You froze, a warmth cracking from the middle of your stomach as your pussy clenched in response. Logan's gruff voice was perfect for commands, even without raising his voice.

"Aww, come on Logan, it's not that ser-" Wade started but Logan forced your knees shut with his hand.

He cut his glare from you to stare at Wade, who effectively shut up and licked his lips. Looking back at you, Logan ran a careful finger down your jaw then across your collarbone.

You patiently waited, holding your attention to his emboldened gaze. His smirk remained, his hand finding its way into your shirt and kneading at your breast.

"You know to ask permission," he said to you, then Wade. "Before you start playing together."

You exhaled shakily, your mouth opened and awaiting his next kiss. Logan teased at you, his top lip brushing against yours before pulling away.

He watched you trail after him wantonly, his own stomach flipping in delight.

"Please," you whispered, eyes half-drawn to stare at your boyfriend.

"Please what?" He repeated as Wade leaned after you to peck your neck.

"Please," you started again, looking to Wade resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Can I play with her pussy?" Wade asked, the words salacious and polite at once.

Logan bit into his growing smile, raking your body and taking in Wade peeling your skirt up to reveal your underwear. He stiffened, looking back to the two of you before hatching an idea.

"Come here, sweetheart," Logan ordered gently, pulling you into the backseat just in front of him.

The two of you shared the seat, your butt backed between Logan's legs as he implied you rested against him. He caught your jaw in his hand and kissed you again, his free hand spreading your legs apart as your skirt was wedged up your waist.

"Wade," he barked softly, his fingers hooking at the front of your panties and pulling them harshly against your clit. "Come taste."

Wade's eyes widened eagerly as your chest heaved in anticipation.

Logan chuckled down at you, his mouth before your nose as he spat out: "Pitiful."

Logan threaded your panties down and back up your pussy, his knuckle sliding against you as you grew wetter. Wade laid himself out over the reclined middle seat, pulling himself between your legs to marvel at the sight.

He looked up at you, his eyes barely cutting to look at Logan. Wade offered a timid stripe to your clothed pussy, barely lining your lips but drawing out a mew from you.

You tilted your head back against Logan's shoulder, your hips rolling against him. Logan pressed his grit teeth to your ear.

"Look at Wade and tell him to eat it," he ordered, prompting you to pull your head up and look at him.

His eyes were dark with a new sense of want; Logan yanked at your panties, tugging them off of your hips before offering them to Wade.

"Pull them off of her, easy." Logan said, his gaze softening at Wade.

Wade, surprisingly mute, did as he was told tugging them off of your legs with his teeth. You whined, wanting to do Logan a service.

Turning to meet Wade's eyes, you were egged on by his stare. One of an eager man ready to please. You gulped, spreading your legs a bit further to allow Wade a better view at your pussy.

"Eat my pussy, Wade," you managed with minimal whining.

Wade exhaled dreamliy. "Yes ma'am. Sir."

He raised his brows to Logan then carefully found his way back to your pussy; he licked again, drawing your wet up to your clit before suckling carefully. You drew a knee up, ready to back him off your sensitive nub, but Logan caught your leg, opening you even further and making you more vulnerable.

After he was done suckling, Wade moved down to slurp in your juices, nosing into you before slipping his tongue into you. You melted against Logan, crying out as your boyfriend held your legs.

"Is he doing a good job?" Logan asked, his tone snarky almost.

"Yes," you gasped, eyes rolling back as Wade continued.

"Why not tell him?" he continued, taking soft grip of your chin to pull you up again.

He directed you to look down at Wade, the bottom of his face smushed into your pussy. Looking up at you, you moaned outwardly then fought against Logan's hold to tilt your head back.

Your noises echoed through the Odyssey, your panting drawing up the heat in the cabin. When you regained a bit of yourself, you met Wade's eyes again.

"Tell him how damn good he is," Logan grit, hissing behind your ear. "Tell him how close you are to coming, baby."

"You're so damn good, Wade. I'm so close." Your eyes fluttered, gaining your voice in a pinch.

You felt Wade chuckle against you, his hand reaching out to rub at your calf. You broke down again, meeting Logan's sultry gaze.

He breathed in your pants, opening his mouth to tempt his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into him as his hand undid your shirt, leaving you open.

Logan reached for your nipples as he kissed you, pinching harshly at you before soothing them with soft touches of his fingers. You were effectively coaxed by his touches, whining further into Logan's mouth.

When he pulled away, you were shocked again by Wade's sucking on your clit.

"Logan," you mewled, close to coming while staring at your boyfriend.

"I'm not doing it," Logan teased, biting at your bottom lip. "Praise Wade like the good boy he is."

Wade moaned at that, which you both acknowledged. You praised Wade while Logan reached to pet at the man's head, taking in a sharp breath.

"That's right, you're a good boy. Make her fucking cum, I know you can," Logan said, his tone giving way to his excitement. "Get her ready for me, get her wetter."

You broke with another moan, your body tightening while keeping Wade's eyes. You piqued, gasping while your pussy contracted on Wade's warm tongue.

Logan ran his hand down your chest, taking a moment to knead at your breast while he soaked in your writhing. He bit at your ear, watching you ride into Wade's tongue.

"Don't stop, Wade. I want her crying," Logan snarled, one hand clamping over your mouth to mute your moans.

You scrambled softly, ready to shut your legs around Wade's head; Wade followed Logan's lead, continuing as you panted and whined, cried and moaned into Logan's hand.

That was until Logan barked for Wade to stop. He sat back with a deep exhale, he licked at his raw lips to clean up your juices. Logan released your mouth, leaving you to catch your breath against his shoulder.

"Come here," Logan coaxed to Wade.

Wade kneeled between your splayed legs, leaning over you to Logan. Without warning, Logan extended his claws into Wade's jaw, allowing blood to seep from his open mouth due to his pierced tongue.

He grit, leaning in to slurp the bright crimson from Wade's lips along with your tart wet. Wade moaned, tempting his tongue out for a kiss though Logan was occupied with licking him clean.

Wade's blood dripped onto your thigh, with Logan taking charge to kiss Wade. He couldn't disguise his growl, still drinking in Wade's red before biting at his bottom lip.

"You want her to return the favor for doing such a good job?" Logan asked, his tone coaxing once again. He licked at Wade's bottom lip, then his jaw before timidly kissing at Wade's ear.

Wade moaned as Logan retracted his claws from his jaw, leaning into the man's voice.

"Yes please," Wade said, surprisingly obedient in the moment.

Logan chuckled darkly, pulling away from Wade; he playfully smacked Wade's burnt cheek.

"Aren't you a little bitch?" Logan snarked, his nose crinkling jokingly.

"Logan," you warned, sitting up slightly.

"He knows I'm kidding, baby. Ain't that right, bub?" Logan asked, leaning in to tease Wade with another kiss.

"Uh-huh," Wade agreed blindly, staring at Logan's lips.

"You heard him." Logan said, edging you off of his shoulder. "Why don't you return the favor?"

You switched with Wade, leaving Logan to drive the "bang bus" back to the apartment. From the front seat, Logan directed both of you with snarls and hard glances at the rear view mirror.

"Don't you dare cum yet, Wade," Logan bit out at a red light.

Just as you swirled your tongue around Wade's tip, his precum mixing with your saliva.

He whimpered, his hands tightening to fists over the back of the seat. Logan glanced back at you two, catching a peek of your bare pussy while you draped over Wade's waist.

"Do that thing with your tongue, babe. That thing that drives him crazy." He orchestrated, wringing his hands on the steering wheel before tapping the gas.

"N-no, no, no," Wade pleaded, hissing at your mouth sinking down at him again.

You did as you were told, looking up at Wade as you reversed on his cock and licked heavily at his slit. Wade groaned, rolling his head against his shoulders to pace himself.

"Don't hold back. Keep him edging," Logan grit, changing lanes with another glance back at you. "God, I can't wait to fuck that needy pussy."

You tensed then extended your back, giving Logan more of a show while teasing Wade.

"How you doing, bub?" Logan asked, grinning darkly.

"Hanging by a thread here. I'm gonna explode inside her mouth." Wade said, tightening his fists to not force your head on his cock.

"Oh, you don't wanna do that. Right baby?" Logan ridiculed with a smack of his teeth. "You want him to cum in your ass, don't you?"

You hummed in agreement, pulling off of Wade's cock to grin at him. "I want you both to stuff me."

Wade's eyes widened in concern, his lack of brows knitting together. "That's really hot, it is, but I'm gonna bust if you keep sucking."

Glancing over to Logan in the rearview, Wade felt a chill run down his back.

"Keep sucking, baby. Show some restraint, Wade."

You hummed as Wade groaned, awaiting release.

As you opened the front door to Logan's apartment, Logan kissed Wade's temple.

"Be happy, good boy. You made it home," Logan teased, spanking Wade's ass. "And without a mess."

Logan moved past him to you, giving you a spank as well. "You on the other hand..."

You trilled, walking in with Logan following eagerly. Meanwhile Wade trailed behind, practically run down. Logan scooped you up over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom with Wade following.

"Don't be so glum, Wade. You're such a good boy," you said sweetly, holding your chin in your hand. "I know you can last all night."

"You might be giving him too much credit. Especially between your pussy and mouth." Logan looked behind him at Wade, noticing him holding his rock-hard cock through his jeans. "We'll see how he lasts with that tight ass of yours."

Logan grabbed a handful of your ass, kneaded at the plushy feel of it before edging his finger to your pussy. You were enlivened by Logan's touch, straightening your back to allow him further.

"You wanna go first since you're gonna pout?" Logan asked, pushing open the bedroom door and casually tossing you onto the bed. "Honey, roll onto your stomach and give Wade what he wants."

"I'm not pouting," Wade said, releasing his cock and holding a hand out at you, holding you in place. "I just...god, I'm gonna fucking explode."

Logan chuckled, grabbing onto the front of Wade's shirt to pull him close. "And you think I'm not? I've been watching you two have all the fun, when's my fucking turn?"

Wade snarled softly at Logan. "Really? I'm surprised you're not getting off by bossing us around. Fuck toys to get you off your ego."

You sat up on your elbows, staring at the two men sneering at one another.

"Oh yeah?" Logan taunted, undoing his pants to reveal his cock fully at attention. His tip was leaking precum, his shaft strained with veins. "Getting off my ego huh? I'm gonna bust as soon as I fuck our girl."

You bit your lip, shifting your knees apart while they kept arguing.

Wade offered to undo his pants as well, participating in the dick measuring contest. His cock looked similar to Logan's, though more decorated with hardened burns revealing muscle. His tip was reddened from over-stimulation, twitching while trying to withhold his latent release.

"You think I won't? I'm gonna cum as soon as I hit the bed." Wade offered.

You tilted your head at the two of them, waiting for one of them to pounce on the other. You were the final act, but they were the mid-climax.

Wade leaned in to touch Logan's cock, earning his growling hiss. "Fuck, your cock is huge."

"Why don't you suck it?" you joked peeling off your shirt before unzipping your skirt.

"I don't think I can get my mouth around it," Wade said, taking a timid stroke of Logan's cock. "You have my praises."

You raised a brow at him, sitting up fully to watch your men play with each other. Wade admired Logan's length as Logan mildly kissed at Wade's jaw, then his neck as his hand gripped at Wade's shoulder.

The more Wade stroked, the heavier Logan's kisses got before he met Wade's burnt lips in a tepid kiss. You were touched that Logan finally gave in to kissing Wade without stabbing, but that was short lived as his claws punctured Wade's side.

Wade grunted into Logan's mouth, biting away to pause stroking. Logan bit into Wade's bottom lip, hard enough to make him bleed from there too.

You shook your head as Wade's blood oozed under his shirt and into his jeans, no doubt leaving a puddle when they would be done. Stretching out on the bed, you propped yourself up against the pillows and took in the show.

"Babe," you addressed Logan. He tilted his head slightly in your direction without meeting your eyes. "Why don't you touch Wade's cock?"

"Yeah, touch it, big boy," Wade teased, coughing up a bit of blood into Logan's mouth. "I promise not to cum in your hand."

"You better not," Logan hissed as his unclawed hand drifted down Wade's front to touch his cock.

He gave Wade a lax stroke, one that made Wade shiver before backing his hips away. Logan laughed mirthlessly at Wade's closeness.

"Now who's a good boy?" You asked, spreading your legs out to coax the men in your direction.

"Don't patronize me, sweetheart."

You sat up further, shifting a pillow out of the way for further use. "Come on, boys. We're not playing anymore."

Logan quickly unsheathed his claws from Wade's side, stashing them in his knuckles and wiping away his blood. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Logan dove into bed, quickly undressing before taking you in his arms. He turned you over onto him, leaving you to press your knees on the bed and line up over his cock.

You worked your hips over his tip, watching his face devolve quickly from hardened to pitiful. Reaching behind you, you guided Logan's cock into your pussy with a loud groan to the ceiling.

"Holy fuck," Wade whispered from the foot of the bed. "I forget how hot you two are."

You smirked, leaning down to kiss Logan; you tasted Wade's blood, the tart remnants of your pussy in the umami of his saliva. Logan's hands roamed down your sides, growling hungrily into your mouth before grabbing thick handfuls of your ass.

He massaged at your thighs and cheeks, slowly working you soft before gliding two fingers into your asshole.

"Wade," Logan tempted, spreading your cheek open while he fingered your hole. "We're waiting for you."

"Fuuuuuck," Wade groaned as your pussy clenched around Logan's hardened length.

He undressed at the foot of the bed then kneeled onto the bed after you two. Ready to guide his cock into you, Wade watched as you started a soft pace on Logan's cock while his fingers pushed in and out of you.

You moaned down at Logan, hissing at the stretch of his fingers as they worked in and out of you. His cock pressed in fully, stretching you at the same time.

"Spit," Logan ordered from underneath you at Wade. He carefully removed his fingers and held them out to him.

Wade lingered a long dribble of spit on Logan's fingers; Logan turned his fingers back to your hole, softening your rim with a few flexes. He slipped them back in, pushing further before ordering Wade to grab the lube from the bedside drawer.

He reached quickly for the bottle, popping the top and coating his cock with a long line of clear lube. Wade tenderly worked his aching cock then dripped more lube over Logan's fingers and your ass.

You whined, leaning into both instances of Logan taking over. Your eyes fluttered, backing into his fingers before meeting his cock thrusting into you.

Logan retracted his fingers again, spreading your worked ass open for Wade to join. "Be gentle."

Wade nodded eagerly, lining his tip to your ass before popping past your rim. The three of you shared a deep sigh of euphoric relief, with both of their tips colliding between your walls.

You broke and collapsed against Logan, raising your ass to participate though your heart was racing. Your arms curled around Logan's neck, prompting him to hold you up as he tucked his face to your neck.

You moaned into his ear, feeling Wade begin to thrust before pausing to catch his breath.

"I-I can't last," Wade whimpered, holding your hips still while Logan kept you moving on his length.

He tilted his head back to catch his breath, but Logan clicked his tongue to catch Wade's attention.

"Hey, eyes on me Wade," Logan coaxed, raising his head to free your face. "Look at us."

Wade shook his head, half-blinking as your ass clenched warmly around his length.

"Baby, make him feel better," Logan ordered softly to you, peeling you off of him.

You mewed, raising up on your knees and reaching back to drape your arm over Wade's neck. You pulled Wade's hand around to your clit, his other hand taking grip of your breast.

"This isn't helping," Wade strained in shallow gulps.

"I know, I know," you whined, allowing Wade to rest his chin to your shoulder.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking tight," Wade praised, practically holding his breath while holding you still on him.

It didn't help though, as Logan continued easing your hips up and down. He stared up at the two of you, eyes raking up and down your conjoined bodies.

He hissed, throwing his head back as his fingers gripped harshly into your thighs. At the same time, you heard the distinct shink of his claws emerging.

You glanced down at his hands, noticed how narrowly his claws missed you; however, they were planted into Wade's thighs. Looking up at Wade, you saw him straining with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"God, come on, baby. I need you to cum right now," Logan ordered, nodding his chin to Wade. "Scrub her clit 'til she cries."

Wade struggled to stay coherent, but did as told; working your clit in circles, you reached a hand out to brace Logan's stomach just as they met against your walls again.

You seethed, hiking up on your knees to avoid the feeling but were caught by Wade's arm tightening around you. He kissed at your neck, his dull fingernails scraping against your stomach.

Finally, you came, pausing between the two of them as your whole body throbbed in stimulation. Wade came instantly, releasing a heavy pant over your shoulder as he thrust into your ass with finality and filled you.

Logan waited out your pulsing walls, enjoying the waves of euphoria over his straining cock, then thrusted into you and came directly against your cervix.

You collapsed against Logan, catching your breath over his chest. Wade planted a foot out to the floor, slowly pulling out of you to witness your dripping ass. His cum slithered forward to your pussy, coating Logan's cock.

He shifted slowly next to Logan, lying down on the bed with enough space for you to lie down between. Logan pulled out of you, shifting you onto the bed before getting up.

He kissed your forehead and left the bedroom in silence. Wade sat up on his elbow, leaning over to kiss your temple. Logan returned, tossing a water bottle at Wade while his cock swang freely between his legs.

Kneeling onto the bed, Logan offered a cool water bottle to your forehead before reaching between your legs to clean you up. After he was done, Logan shut off the overhead light then climbed into bed.

"Go home, Wade," Logan bit out, opening his arm for you to cuddle into his side.

Wade cuddled against Logan's other side, wrapping his arms around the man's bicep before hitching a leg over Logan's waist.

"You big lug, gimme a kiss." Wade teased, leaning in to kiss the corner of Logan's mouth.

From under the comforter, you heard Logan's claws sheath themselves in Wade's thigh and you scoffed in disbelief.

"I am not cleaning the sheets," you muttered, drifting off to sleep.

"Don't worry, he will in the morning." Logan offered.

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