Imagine You Are The Third Head Of The Dragon.

Imagine you are the third head of the dragon.

Warnings: explicit smut, drama, angst—fluffy endings tho. We stand happy Aemond and happy Aegon; long post.

***

• (I)

You are the only princess of the four children of King Viserys and his second wife after the demise of Princess Helena before you were even born.

So at the time of your birth your grieving mother relied on you, giving you perhaps a different treatment that she conceded your brothers. The Queen is definitely more protective to you.

As you grow, robust and lively, you find yourself looking for a place between Aemond and Aegon.

To complicate things, your father neglects you and your mother starts to busy herself with queenship.

This is the background you find yourself for the moment. Overshadowed by an older sister you've never seen, ignored by two brothers who are constantly at each other, loneliness is your companion and you feed it with books, sharpening your mind as you grow.

It happens, however, that you find Aemond at the library this day. You'd quickly turn out had he not spoken to you first.

"Come here, Y/N. Why do I get the sensation that you are fleeing from me?"

You do as told.

"I do not think you appreciate my company for whenever I am nearby you disappear."

Leaving the book aside, he looks up and greets you with a small smile.

"So the princess speaks. Well, if it happens to be so it's because I have other tasks. Unfortunately our lessons are scheduled for different parts of a day."

Seeing you are still untrusting his words, Aemond sighs and moves to where you are.

"Come now, Y/N. What are you intending to read today?"

As one looks to the other, the initial distrust is overcome. Whatever Aemond sees in you finds home in how you let him in too.

*

Aegon sees you the moment he leaves Sunfyre.

The four and ten year boy watches as you, four years younger, pace lonely around the gardens.

He'd usually have no time to waste if the person in question was Aemond, but something about you changes his mind and he turns around.

"Is this a Targaryen trait to be able to read a book and walk at the same time?"

You raise your head and chuckle at his words.

Aegon has always been the unreachable elder brother, but for some reason you are like a sunbeam whenever he looks at you. And he is proud of himself for making you smile.

"I cannot say, but if this is the case then it is a gift I can at least claim."

Aware this hints at the fact you haven't reclaimed a dragon to yourself yet, the prince softens towards you.

"Dreamfyre is out there, you know."

"I cannot",

", and your smile falters. "It was hers."

Rarely the Queen spoke of Princess Helena to you. The sister whom you've never met was the eldest (she'd be joined by Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron before you came to this world) of the family, after Rhaenyra. She had claimed a dragon when she was two and ten, and had she lived today, she would be counting a second decade in this world.

But due to a sickness, two years after Helena delighted in riding Dreamfyre, she was no more. It did impact her family in many ways and you, born six years later, still feel daunted by her memory.

"Y/N", Aegon understands well what you left unsaid. "This is not how she would have liked to be remembered."

"You say it so because mother doesn't compare you to her like she does to me."

In pain, a bond rises. Aegon is surprised himself when he notices it.

"Oh, how mistaken you are, dear Y/N. I too wonder at times if it wasn't better for us all that the Gods spared her instead of me."

You take his hand in yours and you like how warm his skin is.

"Do not say so. You are good to me, Aegon. You can be good. Do not forget it."

That evening, Aegon could believe there is hope somewhere. About what? He cannot say.

***

• (II)

Tensions between Rhaenyra's offspring and the Queen's are growing slow, but intently. You have noticed how often Aemond has been mocked for not having a dragon to claim, a topic that is quite sensitive to you as well.

These are the moments where you come out of your cave.

"Leave him alone. It seems to me that neither of you are capable of understanding that it's to the Gods' decide whenever we bond with our dragons."

Lucerys laughs disdainfully at you, and Aemond sees you going red. A bad sign. He holds your hand as if he's trying to prevent you to get into a fight that is not yours.

But when Baela snaps back, the unexpected happens. You are brought to an unpredictable display of ire, pushed to the point where you knock her down.

"Shut up, won't you?!"

It doesn't get worse because Aemond interferes and, together with a very impressed Aegon, you are taken off the room. But the implications of the day only worsened your moods when Aemond himself loses an eye because of Lucerys.

"I am glad in you I can trust", says Aemond in a rare display of affection, of fragility.

You hold him tight.

"I cannot forgive myself for being absent this day. I failed to protect you, Aemond. For that I'm sorry."

He looks at you, partially amused.

"You are my younger sister. It's I who should say so, not you."

"Nevertheless..."

"Don't, Y/N. I'll be fine."

Neither speak for a moment. It's here where the lines are drawn out, where there is a subtle modification in the nature of the relationship between him and you. But what would you know?

***

• (III)

Here you are, watching Aegon flying with Aemond. Despite your pride, you took the opportunity to ride with your boys. The rarity of the occasion-where you, a rider unclaimed, had the chance to mount a very ancient dragon and another relatively younger-helps strengthening the bonds between you three.

But as you are tired, you are merely an observer.

Lying down in the green grass of the open field, a spot where you like to spend your time with your siblings, here is usually your safe haven, where no one troubles you —where the deranged concept of paradise can be traced in the back of your mind.

However, your flaws give you little time to rest upon. You are constantly reminded that everyone has a dragon but you. Though your father has shockingly observed Dreamfyre has no rider, you refuse to take the dragon of the sister whom everyone loved as yours.

Thus it is you start to recount in the back of your mind the dragons left yet to be tamed-if yet they can be claimed so. It's when your are reminded of a dragon as old as Vhagar... one of the kind that has long been left with no rider to claim as its own.

The arduous task emanates behind your eyes.

Ambition rises in your chest, but you are up to it.

When you observe Amond and Aegon up in the skies, you whisper to yourself:

"I am by no means lesser than any of them. I'll show them all I am the third head of the dragon."

A deadly promise that certainly has the eager ears of the divine.

*

The day chosen for this is, in fact, right after your lord father has died. Aegon has been chosen a king in opposition to Rhaenyra and as conspiracies roll to dethrone your elder sister in favour of a male heir, in similar parallels to the same council attended by King Jaehaerys many moons ago which determined that Prince Viserys would inherit the throne against Princess Rhaenys' rights, you follow your lead.

It happens to be a storming day, a bad omen to many-depending of the point of view. To a start, you are betrothed to Aegon.

"I have always assumed you'd have Lady Baela at your side", you are heard musing to your inexpressible elder brother.

Aegon limits himself giving you a long look.

"As if, my dear Y/N. As if!"

You chuckle quietly. And the sound of it makes the elder of the three to smile genuinely. Indeed, as you notice for the first time, it is a good sight to admire.

The now king who is styled as Aegon II seems to notice something different in you too. But this exchange of glances ends abruptly as businesses are conducted-and you notice that Aemond, a silent witness that is so easily mistaken to a shadow, doesn't like what he sees so he leaves.

You sigh and stand, going after him in spite of your mother's protests that you should stay so the betrothal is announced... But as you part nonetheless, Aegon's eyes refuse to follow you.

It appears I must learn to share.

The new king finds this concept a rather odd one, but his namesake did the same, so why not do the same? As he plays with his finger and hears the council planning his coronation day, Aegon realizes this may not be such a bad idea.

After all... there must be three heads of the dragon.

He shivers.

*

Aemond stands at the yard, his chest heavy, smashed by the weight of wishing everything he cannot possessed. He wishes they could see that it's Aemond, not Aegon, better suited for the crown, better suited for...

"Aem", like a whisper, like a prayer your voice comes to his ears.

Aemond slowly turns only to spot you dressed in dark green robes, hair split in two long braids.

You've turned to a woman, no longer the introspective child that feared his presence.

"Y/N", he whispers too.

"You left the council."

"So did you".

Silence. Aemond can tell you are irritated by his words. By how you breathe, he knows you are upset. And he wishes things are otherwise, but what can he do when you are out of reach?

"You should have stayed", you insist.

"What for? I have no use there", Aemond scoffs.

"This is not the true." When you slip towards him, the prince finds in your gaze a very obstinate trait that, however, is tempered by your gentleness.

Some you remind him of his ancestor, Queen Rhaenys. "We must stick together. The world out there is cruel, Aemond. We need each other."

His hands are now resting around your waist-an imperceptible gesture, done almost unconsciously—, drawing you closer, even though you need not so much encouragement to do it willingly.

When have these sentiments begun to change?

Or have they always been there? A question Aemond does not dare to pose even if they are detected in his good one eye, softened as you raise your right hand to stroke his cheek-and he does not push you away.

"I have never failed my duty, Y/Nickname", like the boy he was, he opens up to you. "But you are not mine to claim even though l'd be a better husband to you."

You smile and it is as if the clouds open up to let the light come in.

"I know you have not. Which is why I'm asking you to stay", you lean forward and Aemond detests the trap he's led into. "We need you. Perhaps not all is lost...”

You tilt your head, letting words be spoken.

Aemond knows that where you are concerned, there is no way to say otherwise. Haven't it always been like this?

Thus it is not entirely surprising that he cedes at your charms by wrapping his hands around your neck and looses the control of his impulses by locking his lips with yours.

You sigh in content, not fighting this urge nor repressing the sentiment that has always been there. You respond his kiss, gladly letting yourself be involved. For where darkness lies ahead, Aemond provides you some light.

"It seems better", says he when you both pull apart to catch some air, "to share you with him than with a stranger."

"I'm glad we have finally agreed", you smile like the silly thing you are.

Despite these merrier circumstances, you are very mindful of what's to be done. And you have no need to wait further for it... even though as you prepare to it, Aegon spots you.

"Never took you for sneaking, Y/N", the king comes at you, and you see in his eyes a mix of feelings that being tossed to such a high position brings him. "Is it me the cause of your elope?"

"I am not eloping, Aegon", you say calmly but firmly. "I have no reason to do so."

Aegon scoffs and an old wound is opened to bleed.

"I am not like Aemond. I understand that it is him you opt to be wedded to."

You sigh, aware of the task that awaits you.

Nevertheless, you are not someone known to be a quitter. You step forward, shortening the distance that for so long has been great.

"You are not unlovable, Aegon. In these peril times, we must not be apart of each other. Feelings do not make us kings. Duties do."

"Bards tend to claim that duties are the death of love", Aegon shoots you a long gaze, still distrustful of your intentions.

You let silence hang loose as you take his hand, moulding into yours as fingers are intertwined. It feels surprisingly good, warm and cozy. You stare at what this union means and you look up at him.

Aegon seems to share the surprise when observing how well your hands are. Little by little tension begins to fade.

"Duties should not be the death of duty. They can coexist." Your thumb rubs around his skin. "There must be three dragons, Aegon."

He sighs.

"I cannot protest against it."

"You can. I am not forcing you into anything for you are the king, after all."

Aegon snorts. It takes little time before he pulls you against him and lifts your chin so his lilac eyes reflect your ones.

"How grown and witter you've become, Y/N", and a sly smirk curls upon your lips when his eyes part to look down at your heavy breathing chest.

"Quite a woman indeed."

Experiencing this lust is to taste the fire of the dragon. Aegon smirks when reading these new sentiments that rise in you. But frustratingly.. he lets go of you.

"I shall best wait for our wedding feast. You'll not be disappointed. Have a good evening, my dear Y/ N."

How your name rolls out of his lips gives you shivers. You wish you could plead him to stay, you are tempted to follow your impulses... but as the king walks off, you let him think victory is with him. For this night you are expected elsewhere.

*

To cool off your womanly needs that have recently risen, you resignify your actions. There is a soft rain pouring this night and you are wearing your court gown. Guarded by two guards and a lady of your trust, you confide your life into the unknown.

You lead the way to the cave where a dragon as old as tale is left in his asleep. For years untroubled, no one dared to claim him. But you... you want more. You've always aimed higher. And we are not speaking of the game of thrones.

Wild as a beast, you are not the royal daughter of House Targaryen whose beauty has earned a rare comparison to Queen Rhaenys. Some bards dare to say you are her incarnation. You are you, Y/N of House Targaryen.

The third head of the dragon. The dragon they need.

Thus you venture inside the cave.

***

• (IV)

The moment you land Aegon's Hill with Vermithor is when every question about your apparent disappearance is answered. Aemond and Aegon are indeed surprised to find in the sweet and delicate sister they share a formidable ally in the upcoming war.

"Y/N, this is very bold of you", your mother tells you in between awe and annoyance. "To leave out in the dark without any explanation... do you realize how wrong this all could have gone to?"

"I'm sorry, mother, but I had to try."

"Wouldn't Dreamfyre be sufficient to you?"

"No. I am not here to supplant my deceased sister, but to be my own self."

The dowager queen doesn't like the answer she gets of you, but at the same time she sees herself in this precise response. She takes your hand into hers and you are more than pleased that you two come to terms about it.

Later that day, when you prefer not to be included in the green's council, Aemond comes at you. You are found at the backyard, reading under a tree.

"I pray I am not interrupting anything."

You lift up and the rogue prince smiles to himself when seeing how lighted up you are at his presence. You quick move to where he is and Aemond is drowned to your presence, burying his face in your neck.

"Gods, I missed you", you say, hands stroking his long hair. "I wish we were not part of this, Aemond."

"Neither did I, but we must protect Aegon at all costs" , says the prince, now stepping back to look at you. He sees through your beauty, aware that this is someone bold like him, rider of an ancient dragon. You are every inch of Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror's blood.

Hands intertwine as gazes are locked. Whatever path this conflict is leading all of you to, you are prepared to take part of it.

"We must and we will." You stroke his face. "We need each other, Aemond. We truly do."

"For we are the three heads of the dragon", muses Aemond, taking your free hand to his lips, upon which he presses a kiss. "I know it as much as you do."

You lean forward to kiss his lips. To feel him one more time is a must, but this is not a goodbye.

This should not feel so.

Specially because Aemond has other plans to weave.

*

Meanwhile, you opt to visit Aegon in his privy quarters. It has been some time since the two of you had a moment to yourselves...and you detest the anguishing possibility that he's been avoiding you.

Aegon is found sharing a drink with his mates when he sees you. Embellished in a mix of green and red, your hair is long lose in curls that match your delicate features.

Can he look away before this view? He cannot. What is more, you are naturally seductive and yet completely ignorant of the power you have in others.

Aegon thus finds reasonable to dismiss his friends and greet you properly.

"What a delighted surprise it is to find you here, Y/N."

"Should it be so?", you take a seat next to him. "I shall be your wife within days and even though it is an arranged marriage, I believe we must make the best out of it."

Aegon looks at you as if he's trying to read your true intentions, but you are being as genuine as your nature permits you to be. He chills then.

"I've always considered Aemond to be a better match for you."

"We cannot be apart of each other, Aegon. Not in these perilous times", and here you take his hand, gently holding it. "You are not by yourself."

Aegon doesn't answer at first. You stand and move to where he is, daring to involve him in an embrace. His head is now against your chest, and you stroke his hair as he holds you against him.

His breath against your skin gives you shivers. But you know what you are doing.

Little by little, right at the throne chamber, where only the fireplace is the witness, Aegon starts to unlace your gown and his lips are suddenly over the swell of your breasts going up to your neck.

You smile, very inclined to it-you move your hip to sit right over his, letting him do whatever he wants with you. Because you are not so innocent, hardly a lamb-you are just as passionate as he is.

And his lips going to your neck so hungrily, makes you wipe out reason of your mind. You moan softly, pleased to be introduced to this matter.

Aegon's left hand moves to your hips and legs, lifting your skirt, his teeth claiming your neck all the while.

And you throw your head back, eyes barely closed when his eager flingers find his ways to your aching womanhood.

"Has he touched you?", Aegon whispers in your ear, biting down your earlobe and smirking pleasantly when seeing you shiver.

"No. It is my husband's merit to do so", you tell him, feeling his aroused member pump against your womanhood.

You'd gladly move against it, rubbing yourself in the process, but his finger suddenly finds the way to your core.

"Oh Gods!", you cry out.

Aegon smiles pleasantly. His smile, burning bright like the sun, is so captivating. And yet here you are, subdued to him as he touches you in such an indecent manner.

"Mm." He buries his head in your neck, holding you close, always tender, always considerate to you. "Yes, my dear Y/N. Come to me, will you?"

You are experiencing a new kind of bliss, so indescribable, that you cannot help yourself being so loud. You cling onto him, your lips desperately looking for his to clash.

It’s a different sensation to kiss your betrothed, and him, likewise. A new bond is forged from fire and blood. The result of it… Aegon feels right in his hand.

“I told you”, you cup his face as you rest your forehead against his, “that you are not unlovable nor undesired, Aegon.”

You are breathless by the time you pursuit him. For the first time in a while, Aegon grants you permission to let you in. As he cuddles you, hands wrapped around your waist, the king says:

“Gods be good for sending you, my darling.”

“Anything for my king, my love.”

And you mean every word of it.

***

• (V)

Right before the marriage is officially celebrated in the common rites of Westeros, another is on its way under the rites of Old Valyria. For both brothers espouse you as their wife.

“Who’d see this day coming?”, says Aegon in a jest. “Like the good old days.”

Aemond shoots him a meaningless look.

“Better it keep in the family than out of it.”

“The dragons must be three”, you say, rather moved by a strange intuition that occurs you every now and then. “Three. Not two. Never two.”

“The old should hardly have been replaced by the new”, says Aemond. “Tradition is something very few valued these days.”

“Quite the opposite, brother”, says Aegon in good mood. “We are prevailing, can you not see it?”

So the ceremony proceeds after all of the tree has come to an agreement that this is a secret with few to share…

*

Later that evening, you try not to look so nervous as the bedding feast begins. You spot a discreet Aemond retiring and you partly fear that he will not join you and Aegon. The mere idea, though, gives you shivers and begins to shake your nerves.

Aegon, seeing how you struggle to conceal your true sentiments, takes your hand under the table and gives a light squeeze. Then he leans discreetly to whisper in your ear:

“All in your time, my dear. If you do not wish to partake it, I can…”

“No”, you tell him firmly. “I shall perform my duties accordingly. Besides…”, and here you flash him a mischievous smirk, “…this is something I’ve been looking forward to do.”

Aegon smirks at you, but when he reclines back to his chair to down another glass, his eyes remain glued in you. He knows you more than you’d have judged.

And yet when he comes to take your hand into his, you dare to look at him again and now… as you two share a look, you feel at ease for the very first time.

*

When you get to the privy quarters, you are putting up with a confidence you lack. You dress only one line robe over your nude frame and your silver hair hangs loose on your back.

The door opens and to your surprise you find Aegon and Aemond, both waiting for you. They are talking as if nothing different is about to happen, as if this is a regular day to them both.

You are rather relieved to see them getting along like they have always been—partners, brothers and friends. Aegon doesn’t look troubled like he often is whenever he’s at the council or nearby his Hightower relatives, your mother being one of them.

His hair is slightly shorter, hanging it at his neck, a complete mess of curls. He is wearing his me nightgown, which shows his bare legs and… You blush at the sight of his manhood, something you’ve never had a glimpse before.

It is a struggle to look at Aemond, though, who is dressed similar. You think you are about to faint, but the subtle warmth you experience in your womanhood certainly prevents you to shy away of consuming this union you’ve longed to arrange.

As you step forward silently so, all eyes are now on you. Aegon and Aemond share a look as if there’s a silent agreement about something. It feels as if they have already discussed how this is going to be.

“Our wife looks stunning this evening”, says Aegon, coming forward to greet you. He takes your wrist and there presses a linger kiss, and something about how you react to this simple gesture makes him smirk. “Do you not think so, brother?”

“Ever the charming”, and here comes Aegon, standing by your right, his slander hand gently touching your curls. “She, whose beauty is unmatched, has come to love us both.”

“Equally”, Aegon sublimes it, very pleased to detect a blush on your paled cheeks. Standing by your left, he gently strokes your face, before slipping a hand to your chest, thus starting to unlace your robes.

“Equally”, Aemond agrees, gently touching your jawline and neck. “And so do we.”

“For there must be”, Aegon whispers in your ear the moment your robes drop to the floor, “three heads of the dragon.”

You shiver. Speechless, all you can do is appreciate their handsomeness. You touch their faces, letting your gaze transmit all your tongue cannot.

The connection is indeed strong, for neither feels the need to translate to words what has always been understood, accepted and taken into the respective hearts.

As Aemond takes his time in exploring your body, his lips slowly going to your cheek to your neck, it’s Aegon who takes the initiative in showing you the ways of… a marital activity.

“Oh Lords”, it’s all you eventually manage to speak out when Aemond kisses your neck and you start to caress Aegon’s manhood all the whilst you are told so many naughty things that make your womanhood ache.

“Mm”, Aegon groans lightly as he takes your hand and leads the way, teaching you how to caress his erect manhood, pumping all the way. “You are natural in this, Y/N.”

You purr the moment he kisses your lips and Aemond starts to caress your already painfully hardened nipple. You throw your head back, about to lose your balance—but thankfully Aemond has a hand to rest on your lower back.

It is a very promising night. Your innocence is certainly no more as you start to enjoy doing it so. Your lips are now going fervent from one to another, a victim of their prey—for though you believed to have had this all along, when Aegon takes your breasts with his skillful hands only to let Aemond slide to his knees and do wonderfulness in your womanhood… you see this has been woven by them for a long time.

“Ah!”, you throw your head back, already a puddle of mess as Aemond takes you all with his tongue.

“Cry out, Y/N. Scream if you dare”, Aegon smirks, pleased to have you the way he wanted you to be: completely corrupted.

“I cannot…”

“Holding back is only worse, and we haven’t even begun yet.”

When your eyes meet, you realize this is their doing and you are their creature. Thus you explode in orgasms, but Aemond doesn’t shy away from drinking all of it.

*

It is Aegon who has the privilege to bed you first. Aemond is very patient—in fact, he likes to watch and make eye contact with you as the elder of you penetrates you nice and slow. It’s delightfully painful to be in this manner, and you never felt so good nor desired, less so to be loved and admired.

As you are close to get your climax, Aemond takes his part in it. Aegon leaves it him to finish the task, but you want more of it—don’t waste the seed, you ask him.

And you engulf it, when Aegon does as requested.

“Indeed, the three of us are nothing but a great piece of art”, muses Aemond as he throbbes inside you.

In this mix of bodies and pleasures and pain, it is only fair that synchrony does its work and pays it well the effort that is to love two men at the same time.

*

Yet, not all is about bedding activities and indecent leisures. War is still being carried out and news have been bad enough to shake the confidence of the Green Cause.

For it is said that Rhaenyra has accomplished a number of bastards to ride some wild dragons. It means to say Aegon is outnumbered.

Hopeless as it may, neither Aegon nor Aemond are willing to quit a fight. What they must do is put in practice the good old strategy: to divide is to conquer. This means they start to ponder how to do so… when they remember that you are the rider of a dragon as old and powerful as Vhagar is.

“Do not think”, your mother, who’s part of the council, is informed before you do of their intentions, “that Y/N should take part of this. She is too innocent for this matter and has no taste to wage wars.”

Aemond clenches his jaw but Aegon dares to snap back:

“To think we are this low morally, mother, gives the light upon which you see us. Well, let me remind you that Y/N loves to ride and is every bit a Targaryen. To hid her away will not change the fragility that you put me through!”

“I intend to keep your throne by all means I can”, says Alicent just as firm. “But this does not require that I must test all of my offspring.”

“This is war”, says Aemond. “What else do you expect? Innocent and guilt are not spared, nor noble or lowborn folk. If you intend to fight for our cause, well then, light the way.”

Otto Hightower, so far watching the discussion with interesting eyes, decides this is the proper time to interfere.

“I was not expecting a wise remark of Aegon, but there it is. He is right, Alicent. War does not spare anyone and hasn’t Y/N claimed Vermithor? Vantage is in our side and we must use it. Next to Vhagar, no one will stand for us. However… We must reason how to do so.”

“I see how little my own perspective here is considered”, and yet Alicent adds: “Be this if it may. Let us fight with the claws we have. We will indeed light the way to the throne and burn all of those who dare to stand in our path.”

Finally, Aegon smiles. Finally a queen who fights for the rights of her children. It seems the greens have finally been tied in one knot.

*

You are found pacing around the gardens with two ladies a few feet behind in order to grant you some privacy. Having just landed after riding with Vermithor, you need to settle before going back to court.

The court, an ideal world where illusions are played in order to entertain courtiers and put a rein to the noble houses’ ambitions. Ruling it is like ruling a realm. One misstep and diplomatic relations can break.

To keep a certain distance between nobility and the royal household you must dress as significant as possible—for fashion is every princess’s weapon, a form to express power through rich cloth that no one can purchase. This exclusivity has always been part of House Targaryen, the only one to exhibit purple cloth amidst its traditional colours to reinforce its royalty.

Not only you dress fancifully to show your power as Queen, but your manners too are regal and carefully pondered. Always the diplomatic, you are impeccable whenever you entertain men and women who could possibly be working for Rhaenyra right now.

Since you do not like the attention, you appreciate the role that most might judge—your enemies, overall—as superficial. But to work beneath the table always works better.

So here you are resting when he finds you.

“Of all the changes I’ve seen, it is good to see one thing remains the same”.

You turn around to see Aegon in his traditional green robes. The tenderness in his face when seeing you warms your heart and distracts you of this recent exhaustion that has been plaguing your heart. But this perception you do not share with anyone.

“What is that, I wonder?”, you smile warmly as you motion towards him.

Aegon takes your hand before pulling you closer to him.

“That your tastes have not been affected by the transition of age.”

You blush. Who could have foreseen that a bold as this would grow to a deeper sentiment, far more than lust and affection could conceive?

“You know more than you show.”

Aegon takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“How can I not know my lady? My wife and queen, my greatest support.”

“You, as my king and blood of my blood, are more than I deserve.” And here you move boldly to press your lips against his, not minding the protocols.

A serene kiss that, both of you know, not only comes so naturally to physically reinforce this tenderness that involves each, but that tempers the bad news you sense that may come.

“You have something to tell me.”

It is not a question. Aegon sighs, but since Aemond has parted with Vhagar, he is left with the discomfort decision of giving you the resolution of the council.

“How’d you know? Has my discomfort played its card?”

You smile benignly, always the patient.

“When I made you and Aemond the solace of my heart was not only moved by this strange intuition that a dragon must have three heads. It was more than inclination to old prophecies that anyone would understand.” You shrug your shoulders, but none of this surprises your husband, already familiar with the topic.

“This means that when I claimed Vermithor, I was prepared for the day we would be challenged. Your cause is uncontested, my love.”

“I only wish I had not involved you in this.”

You kiss your cheek.

“Not even Rhaenys contented herself with entertaining court for so long. When her Aegon required, she attended her duties. So, mine own liege Aegon, what is it you request of me, your humble wife?”

Aegon swallows, but when he raises his eyes, you see resignation behind them.

So he tells you the plan.

***

• (VI)

The day before the three of you would fly with your dragons and lead your armies to war, you find yourself feeling slightly nauseous. Thankfully a maid came to succor you before you succumbed to your strange new moods.

“Thank you”, you smile at her. “But I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Early this morning you have found yourself in a strange twist of humour since you’ve been without either of your husbands and bed has been cold. You struggle to be in a good mood when war leaves you anxious and the company of your mother irritates you every now and then.

There is always a great price to pay to keep my emotions in check.

Thankfully though, Aemond is the first to return and you rush to greet him. Today, it’s raining and you do not mind to get wet when you welcome him in your arms.

“Looks like I was missed”, muses the prince with a smirk when being engulfed by you. His hands caress your sides before lifting you and spinning you around.

“You took some time, Aemond. It is unjust to leave me waiting.”

“My apologies, wife, but you know I cannot flee my duties”, and here he takes your hands and kisses each before doing the same to your lips. “I have missed you more than it is sensible to conceive.”

Resting his forehead against yours, Aemond is at peace again, a rarity ever since the war has started—specially after what happened to Lucerys, which had ran out of his control and he never forgave himself for that.

Sensing his troubled soul, you take him inside the castle, trying to distract of his mind. He appreciates the effort, and you two have your privacy at the library, running away of this plagued world for a few moments.

“This is where it all begun”, says Aemond, amused as he scans the shelves where heavy and dusted books are kept. “I recollect you feared me a bit.”

You smile at the memory.

“I thought you were unreachable and that was because you didn’t like me.”

Aemond snorts at you.

“Dislike you?”, he lifts your chin and draws you closer to him, imposing his taller presence in a way that makes you weak in your knees. “How could you nurture such thought?”

You feel like you’ve been dancing with him towards the wall, for you hit your back against it and he presses you in it. It doesn’t help your state that he pulls his knee right in between your legs, rubbing it against your womanhood.

And your reaction is precisely what he expects.

“You… you were often so out of my reach”, you tell in short curt breath. “Aemond, darling, we are not in our privacy.”

He smirks, leaning to peck your lips as he lifts the skirts of your gown. It occurs to him that something about your body looks different, but not knowing what this is, he doesn’t pay attention to it yet.

“Is that so?”, and his hand makes the path he’s so familiar with. “You’ve been lonely, I know.”

You are barely short breathed as you feel it going to your womanhood. Your eye flashes are barely open and the moment his finger starts to do wonderfulness in you, every protocol dies in mute resistance.

“How could you tell?”, you moan, desperately holding onto his shoulders, pulling his hair back before kissing his jawline and burying your lips to his neck.

“Because”, Aemond’s breath hitches for a moment before he whispers, “I know your apetites well.”

“You are the blood of my blood”, and now your hand is quick to find its way to where you want it to be. “It could not be otherwise.”

But Aemond holds your wrists above your head, pinning you further against the wall as he quickly slides his manhood in you just as you are about to reach climax in his skillful hand.

“Aemond!”, you cry out.

“Mine that you are, my queen”, and he shushes you with a fervent kiss all the whilst he bangs you against the wall intently.

*

You are standing outside the castle in your own armor suit. Vermithor has left the dragon’s pit and it seems to feel your anxiety. The old winged beast looks eager to go back to war, to be useful again and you cannot blame him for it. It only mirrors your sense of duty.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N”, you hear your mother’s plead and when feeling her pain, you are moved by it. When you turn at her, you see her struggling between encouragement and fear for her only daughter… and considering the premature death of Princess Helaena, you realize you should have been kinder.

“I know where my duties lay, mother. Let me do this for my house like Queen Rhaenys did for hers.”

“And look what it befell her!”

You side smirk at your mother before pressing a kiss over her forehead.

“We are not fighting the Dornish, mother.”

But as you move to your dragon, Aegon and Aemond seem to reconsider your part in this. When hearing their hesitance, you scoff at them.

“We are in this together whether you like it or not. There is much to be done. I am not merely your wife, but a queen also, a queen who fights for her kings.”

The three of you stay silent for a few seconds. It falls to Aemond the task to give each a charge to put an end to this bloody war. But little do you know what’s yet to roll…

When it is about to each follow the path and mount each dragon respectively, you are taken by a bad feeling that makes you rush to Aegon.

“Wife”, he greets you with that sunny smile that has always been a weakness of yours. The king is adjusting the armor before getting to Sunfyre. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to Y/C?”

“I should, but I came to wish you my luck”, you say, strangely emotional. You come to realize you’ve been very weird lately, but so far you’ve managed to successfully kept a show. “Aegon, do not be imprudent.”

“Well, if anything falls on me, you have Aemond.”

To his surprise, you burst in tears. Aegon softens, having clearly underestimated the degree of affection you have for him. All his life he felt he’s been overshadowed whether by his younger brother or his elder sister, so he struggled to find his own place.

And yet… to see how you love him, even if he’s always agreed to share you with Aemond, aware that you and him had so far more affinities that with him—which he accepted well—, makes him somewhat emotional.

“You are not unlovable, Aegon”, you sob as he breaks in and holds you against him. “Do not dare to say such a thing. You are irreplaceable.”

So this is what it feels like, a thought occurs him. To feel loved.

“I do not deserve you. And you deserve someone better.”

“Shush, you fool. You are not only the king and blood of my blood, but the solace to my poor desolate heart.”

Aegon smiles to himself before lifting your chin and looking right into your eyes.

“My sweet Y/N, this is not the day I plan to die.”

“Do not dare to leave me in this world.”

He kisses you thus and you mewl under his embrace.

“Never.”

Reluctantly, though, Aegon parts of you. Very chivalrous, he takes your hand to his lips and there presses a kiss. The sight of you, not as a regal queen, but a devouted wife transports him to the old songs he used to love as a young man.

Oh but they will sing about us. The song of the three head dragons. The song about the queen who loved her brothers.

The idea encourages him to move forward. But even when he does so, you cannot wipe away the cascade of tears that expose you to an unknown cruciate misery.

*

Moved by strange sentiments, you think wise to follow them. What a sight by many to see you mounting Vermithor.

“There goes my sweet child. My only daughter”, the queen sighs in melancholy as she watches you fly.

“She is very brave, sister”, her brother, Ser Gwayne, says with a hint of pride. “There is a reason why Vermithor chose her and not the other way around.”

His words are very prophetic. And the Black party would be the first to feel its weight.

*

Aegon meets Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was. But it is a rather unmatched fight: Meleys is older and experienced in battle all the whilst this is the first time poor Sunfyre is put to war.

The king holds the reins of his angst, but he tries his best even when the scenario is at his worst. The inevitable seems to occur, the circumstances do not favour him at all.

“I know we can do this”, Aegon mumbles to Sunfyre.

It is when so suddenly a grunting howl breaks through the air. It gives shivers to anyone who hears it. Soldiers down the field interrupt their fighting to see, fearful, who is coming to bring desolation to their cause.

If it is Caraxes, the Greens shake. But this is a dragon older perhaps than Prince Daemon’s winged creature.

Mounting for war, you ride Vermithor well prepared for the fight.

“This is my husband. This is my king and you will not take him of me.”

Vermithor senses the weight of his words. He does not wait for the order, he attacks. Aegon is surprised by how bold you are in battle. And what is more, you came to aid him.

He smiles in relief when seeing Vermithor out power Meleys, even though this is not an easy fight for the Red Dragon has her own experiences.

But Vermithor is deadly, dangerous and… mad. The dragons dance and it is no ordinary dance. One bite in the other’s belly, stretching out until…

“DRACARYS, VERMITHOR!”

A victory for the green cause, but this hasn’t finished yet. Not too far from it comes Baela in her dragon. She flies in complete outrage, but when your gaze meets Aegon’s, well… the princess must be prepared for a double wave of equal display of rage.

***

• (VII)

As war carries on, victories and losses have their prices. Despite the green’s evident advance, you are troubled by the dreams of a battle between your husband Aemond and your uncle Daemon.

To worse matters, Rhaenyra has summoned Targaryen bastards to ride wild dragons. You have been in advanced stages of pregnancy when it all seemed to lead for her upcoming victory—she’s been planting spies in the capital to stand for her cause, which means it is a matter of time before she takes King’s Landing.

“You are staying with our mother at Hightower, should the worse happen”, decides Aegon. “Do not give me this look, Y/N. You might as well as be carrying our heir, so I cannot stress—nor should I—enough the importance of your safety.”

These arguments are reasonable enough to convince you to stay. But to leave Vermithor behind? This is a risk you are unwilling to take.

“You must be out of your senses to suggest flying with your dragon in this state!”, Aemond hears your suggestion completely baffled. “What part of the safety of our unborn child do you not comprehend?”

You gritted your teeth and hiss away, storming off to your chambers. Not a very mature more when you know they are correct in worrying over you—your pregnancy has been giving you some concerns too, since you’ve been feeling exhausted for no reason. But such is the way of a pregnant woman.

“She will come to her senses”, says the Queen dowager. “Y/N has gotten used to be very active in her role, whether as wife, whether as queen, so it is understandable she’s not been taking well to be frustratingly… quiet.”

A sensation that Lady Alicent has been familiar with, but it is only vague since, in truth, she’s been plotting behind the scenes to impede Rhaenyra’s advance.

“Just… make sure the baby comes out well”, says Aemond, concealing the distress that is to go to war and leaving you behind for the first time.

“And make sure she’s safe”, adds Aegon, concerned likewise.

Alicent nods. She smiles at them. Once she found…unusual that the three of her children had linked so deeply in many levels, but now she is proud of the family they’ve become. Otto’s plans, her plans, succeeded and she wished Viserys saw that.

Now they part under grey clouds and mysterious scenes that lay ahead to be fought.

*

To the dowager queen’s surprise your labour is difficult. Perhaps due to your emotional state, it is more complicated that it would be assumed.

The men fight their battles and here you are, fighting yours in your own battlefield: the childbed.

Hours pass and no relief is found. Your screams can be heard in the corridors as you try to follow the midwife’s commands to push.

It really does not help that in this moment you have a sort of dream, a vision of a green battlefield painted in red. The blood of innocent spills in it, screams of terror follow the sound of blades.

Above skies, dragons dance. To your atonement, it is blurred. You cannot spot even the colors of the beasts, but their sounds scratch your ears and you begin to breath anxiously.

“Aegon…. Aemond…”

The sounds turn into cries and eventually… one of the dragons collapses. You shake before the view. Regardless of sides, dragons represent the power of the house Targaryen.

But there must be always three. Three heads of the dragons.

You know not where this certainty has come from. Like your sister Helaena you have dreams, but in your own way. They are not always clear and often come blurred. But this certainty…

Well, what does it matter now? You want to put an end to this misery. So you cry out with all the strength you have.

*

“Daemon Targaryen is dead”, Otto announces proudly and in evident display of emotion. “Gods be good, we are so close to victory.”

“Our plans have finally come to fruition”, Alicent cheers to it, downing another glass of wine. “Once my girl is recovered, I can tell she will give a fantastic ball.”

“Sometimes I am reminded of your mother whenever I look at Y/N”, says he, contemplative. “She has such a merry and firm spirit within that is hard not to be captivated. Helaena would have liked her.”

Sadness flashes behind Alicent’s eyes. Two children she lost in these years—first, Helaena; second, Daeron—and these losses a mother can hardly be fully recovered of.

“Yes, I like to think so. Had Helaena lived, though, this madness wouldn’t go forward.”

“Madness?”, Otto chuckles. “Aegon the Conqueror was not seen as mad when he took his two sisters as his wife. Regardless whether he did for duty or passion, it was wise to keep blood within the family. A trend the House you married to kept.”

“But not like this. Two husbands…”.

Alicent is baffled by the lack of atonement on her father’s part, but his stare leaves her disconcerted.

“Tell me you wouldn’t have done yourself if you had the opportunity. To be wedded to two Targaryens. And you know whom I speak of.”

The dowager queen chooses the silence. It suddenly appears reasonable not to question your matters of heart so openly…

*

You are just recovering when the door opens and you see Aegon and Aemond breaking through. You blush when seen in this state: dressing in a line nightgown, looking tired and paled after a day breastfeeding your twins.

“Oh! You have returned so soon!”, you’d quickly try to throw your robes over your frame, but Aegon promptly stops you to do so.

“Don’t, Y/N. You must rest. It isn’t as if we haven’t seen you undressed before”, says he with a smug smirk that makes you warm. He strokes your hair before being embraced by you. And Aegon is surprised when you start to weep. “Y/Nickname… what are these tears for?”

Aemond is reclined against your bed’s support watching the scene with the same puzzled expression.

“Have you even been churched?”

“I apologize for my overly emotional react. May be motherhood, but whatever it is… I am overjoyed in seeing you both so well! Does this mean we have won?”

Both brothers look at each other and had not been the glimpse of mischief you spot in their gaze, you’d have been despaired.

“Well?”, you insist in not the best of the moods.

“I am uncontestedly the king of Westeros”, says Aegon, very pleased in delivering the news and more so for seeing you smile so brightly. “You’ll know the details later, but first… how have you been?”

It’s when they are told of the children you gave birth to. Jaehaerys and Visenya, very Targaryen names who remit to two of the most powerful Westerosi sovereigns you descend of.

“I like to think Jaehaerys is yours”, says Aemond to Aegon, quite amused before the fact you birthed two children when you married two different men. “And Visenya is mine.”

In this late evening, once everyone is comfortable, you are found in between your husbands.

“Really?”, Aegon chuckles. “Why’s that?”

“Just a feeling I have. But it doesn’t matter this much, does it?”

But you do not take part of the conversation, for exhausted you are, you fall asleep… and for the first time in a long while, it has no green dreams to daunt you…

Heck yeah Freddie Fox!!!!what if reader plays Gwayne and Alicent sister, but their chemistry is sooooo good that the creators had to cut their scenes together because "they're Hightowers, not Targaryens"🤣🤣🤣and the cast are having the time of their lives with that

Me and the Devil (Freddie Fox x Y/N)

Y/N L/N, who stars as Lady Eleanor Hightower, has an absolutely electric chemistry with her on-screen brother, Freddie Fox, who plays Ser Gwayne Hightower, much to the amusement and exasperation of the HOTD cast and crew.

TW // Strong language and profanities, incestuous undertones, sexual tension and innuendos.

The sun was rising behind the walls of the Red Keep, casting long, creeping shadows over the Outer Courtyard. Lady Eleanor Hightower, clad in the deep, grieving olive of her house, stood with an air of weary grace beside her sister, Dowager Queen Alicent. Her face was a picture of calm, though her eyes were heavy with the sorrow of loss and the weight of recent weeks.

“Do you think he’ll bring that dreadful horse again?” Eleanor asked, her voice soft but dripping with that sharp edge she never quite lost, even in mourning.

Alicent’s lips twitched, but she held her composure. "If he does, I’ll have it stabled outside the walls. I’m not having that beast piss all over the courtyard again."

The rumble of hooves on cobblestones drew their attention. The gates opened, and a column of knights in shining armor, bearing the sigil of House Hightower, entered the courtyard. At their head was Ser Gwayne Hightower, his helm tucked under one arm, revealing the tousled auburn hair and devil-may-care grin that Eleanor had grown so used to seeing—when he wasn’t hiding it behind an arrogant smirk.

“Well, well, look who it is. The fairest blooms of Oldtown,” Gwayne drawled, striding over like he owned all Seven Kingdoms. “Alicent, you’re still holding up the realm with that iron fist of yours. And Eleanor…” His eyes trailed over her, lingering just a fraction too long, “Looking every bit the grieving widow. Tell me, how does it feel to be free of that hideous arsehole, late Lord Hastwyck? May the Seven forgive him.”

Eleanor shot him a withering look, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “About as good as it feels to watch you strut around like you haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Oh, fuck off, Ellie,” Freddie retorted, still in character, his grin widening. “Thought all that mourning might’ve taken the edge off your bite, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, a smirk that could rival his playing on her lips. “And you, brother, seem as full of yourself as ever. Did the trip here inflate your ego even further?”

Gwayne grinned wider, flashing teeth. “Careful, little sister, or I’ll think you missed me.”

Alicent, tired of their verbal sparring, interjected. “Gwayne, you’ve arrived at an important time. Ser Criston Cole has replaced our father as Hand, and there is much work to be done.”

Gwayne’s grin faded into a sneer. “Ser Criston Cole? That jumped-up cunt of a knight? What, are we that desperate, we’re pulling nobodies out of the arse-end of the Kingsguard now?”

The crew, who had been trying to keep it together, finally lost it. Laughter rang out across the courtyard, cameramen shaking their heads as they tried to stay steady.

“Cut! Fucking hell, cut!” Geeta Patel called out, struggling to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She stepped forward, waving her hands as she approached the trio. “Alright, Freddie, Y/N, that was... Jesus Christ, that was incredible. But you’re not Jaime and Cersei Lannister, alright? You’re Hightowers. That kind of sibling chemistry doesn’t fly in this family. Tone down the ‘let’s fuck each other senseless’ vibes, okay?”

Freddie turned to Y/N, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Hear that, darling? We’re too bloody hot for Westeros.”

Geeta rolled her eyes, but she was smiling despite herself. “I swear, you two are going to give me aneurysm. Just... try to remember you’re siblings. No more of that smoldering shit. The Hightowers don’t do what the Targaryens do, alright?”

Freddie put on a mock-serious face, hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear to be the picture of brotherly love. No more dirty looks, no more—“

“Smoldering looks, you tosser,” Y/N corrected, elbowing him in the ribs. “And good luck with that.”

The crew was still giggling, a few members openly impressed. “Honestly, we haven’t seen chemistry like this since Game of Thrones,” one of the grips muttered, shaking his head. “It’s fucking unreal.”

As Geeta returned to her chair, giving notes to the crew, Freddie leaned in closer to Y/N. “Honestly, how are we supposed to act like siblings when you keep giving me those eyes?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance. “You mean the same eyes you’re giving me right now? Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Freddie chuckled, his voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. “Well then how about we really give them something to talk about?”

Y/N swatted at him playfully. “Behave yourself, Fox. Or I’ll tell Geeta.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Before Freddie could fire back, Geeta’s voice rang out again. “Alright, enough banter, you two. Places! And for fuck’s sake, remember—you’re Hightowers, not Targaryens or Lannisters!”

Freddie straightened up, slipping back into his role as Ser Gwayne, but not before giving Y/N one last, devilish wink. “For now,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral, but the corners of her mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. She shot him a look that promised retribution later.

As the cameras rolled once more, they slipped effortlessly back into character, their banter sizzling with that same crackling chemistry that had the entire crew both laughing and marveling at just how damn good these two were together—siblings or not.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

On a different day, Geeta Patel was giving final instructions to Olivia Cooke and to Fabien Frankel. “Alright, Olivia, Fabien,” Geeta began, her tone calm. “This scene is all about the farewell. Criston, you’re asking for Alicent’s favor before you leave for war. This is a significant moment between you two. We need it to be subtle, yet powerful. Got it?”

Fabien nodded, his expression serious. “Got it, Geeta.”

Olivia smiled. “Ready when you are.”

Geeta gave them a satisfied nod and turned to the crew. “Okay, everyone, positions! Let’s make this one count.”

As the cameras rolled, Criston Cole approached Alicent with a grave expression, his armor gleaming in the dying light. He bowed low, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Your Grace,” he began, his tone respectful, yet carrying an undercurrent of something deeper.

Alicent looked at him with those sharp, knowing eyes, giving him a slight nod. “May the Seven guide you, good knight,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “And lead you not to shadow and death.”

Criston bowed his head even lower, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I thank Your Grace for her prayers,” he replied, his voice filled with reverence.

Alicent turned as if to leave, her gown sweeping the stones with a soft rustle. But before she could take more than a step, Criston’s voice called her back. “And I would request,” he said, his words halting her in her tracks, “that Her Grace grant me her favor. That her Lord Commander may go into battle with her blessings… in his heart.”

The scene hung heavy in the air, the tension thick between them as Criston’s plea echoed through the courtyard. Alicent hesitated, her hand brushing against the delicate fabric of her sleeve as she turned back to him, her eyes locking onto his. There was a moment of silence, a breath suspended in time, as everyone waited to see what she would do.

She finally reached into her sleeve, pulling out the small, delicate handkerchief embroidered with her initials. The camera zoomed in, capturing the intricate details, the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she held it out to him. “Take this,” she murmured, her voice carrying a subtle tremor, “as a token of my favor. Return victorious, Ser Criston. And know that you carry my thoughts with you.”

Criston bowed his head, taking the handkerchief. “Your Grace,” he replied, his voice rough, “I shall return with your favor in my heart and the victory of your cause in my hands.”

The scene was supposed to be the focal point of the episode—an understated farewell between the Dowager Queen and her paramour.

Or at least, that was the plan.

In the background, Eleanor and Gwayne were supposed to be having a far simpler exchange—just a quick farewell between siblings, nothing more.

The moment the camera panned to them, what was meant to be a brief, subdued farewell exploded into something far more dramatic.

“Eleanor, my sweet sister,” Gwayne declared, sweeping her up in an exaggerated embrace, his voice loud enough to carry across the courtyard. “How will I ever endure the horrors of war without your smile to guide me through the darkness?”

Y/N played right into it. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with fake tears. “Gwayne, you reckless fool, you’d better come back to me—or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself.”

The crew exchanged glances, trying desperately to keep their laughter in check as the two continued to ad-lib their way through what was supposed to be a simple goodbye.

Gwayne placed a hand on Eleanor’s cheek, his expression one of melodramatic intensity. “If I do not return, tell the world I died with your name on my lips.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” someone from the crew muttered, barely audible over the sound of snickering.

Geeta Patel, perched in her director’s chair, pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Cut! CUT!” she finally called out, though her voice was tinged with reluctant amusement. “Freddie, Y/N, what the bloody hell was that? You’re supposed to be siblings, not star-crossed lovers.”

Freddie turned to Y/N with a grin that could only be described as wicked. “Sorry, Geeta, got a bit carried away there. Can you blame me? Look at her—who wouldn’t fall madly in love?”

Y/N smirked, not missing a beat. “Don’t flatter yourself, Fox. It’s called acting.”

Geeta threw up her hands in defeat. “I swear, you two are the bane of my existence. How am I supposed to get a serious scene out of you when you keep turning everything into a bloody pantomime?”

The crew was struggling to keep it together. Even Olivia, standing nearby as Alicent, was biting her lip, trying to stay in character despite the ridiculousness happening behind her.

Freddie chuckled. “Geeta, darling, I think what we’re doing here is revolutionary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, though she was clearly enjoying herself. “What he’s trying to say, Geeta, is that we’re just too damn good together. Maybe it’s time to change the script.”

“Or maybe,” Geeta retorted, her tone playful despite her frustration, “you two could try actually sticking to the script for once. I’m pretty sure HBO isn’t paying you to improvise a Lannister-style farewell.”

Freddie turned to Y/N, pretending to consider it. “What do you think, Eleanor? Should we behave ourselves this time?”

Y/N gave a mock sigh, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off her costume. “I suppose we could try.”

Geeta couldn’t help but shake her head as she gestured for the crew to reset. “Alright, let’s take it from the top. And this time, keep it in your pants, Hightower freaks.”

Cameras rolled once more, the scene resumed, with Criston and Alicent taking center stage as intended from the start.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

The camera opens on a sleek, modern studio set, the familiar logo of Max glowing softly in the background. Y/N and Freddie are seated side by side, relaxed and comfortable, both dressed casually but stylishly—Y/N in a chic blouse and jeans, Freddie in his usual mix of sharp yet slightly rumpled attire.

The interviewer, a young woman with a cheerful demeanor, smiled warmly at them. “Thank you both for joining us today. Why don’t we start with some introductions?”

“Hello, everyone! I’m Y/N L/N, and I play Lady Eleanor Hightower on House of the Dragon,” Y/N says, her voice smooth and confident as she introduces herself.

Freddie chimes in right after. “And I’m Freddie Fox, and I play Ser Gwayne Hightower, Eleanor’s incredibly charming, dashingly handsome older brother.”

Y/N snorts, nudging him with her elbow. “You forgot modest, Freddie. Always so modest.”

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying their banter. “It’s great to have you both here. So, as you know, House of the Dragon has a massive fandom, and one of the things they love to do is theorize and create ships outside of the canon. They really get invested in the chemistry between characters—and, let’s be honest, between the actors as well.”

Freddie and Y/N exchange a look, both trying to suppress knowing smiles.

The interviewer continues with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, naturally, people are starting to wonder—could we be seeing the next Kit Harington and Rose Leslie? You know, screen partners turning into real-life partners?”

Freddie, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of fun, suddenly turned in his seat, getting down on one knee in front of Y/N. With an exaggeratedly serious expression, he took her hand. “Y/N, dearest Lady Eleanor, would you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife? I promise to annoy you, to steal your snacks, and to outshine you in every single scene we ever do together.”

Y/N bursts out laughing, placing a hand over her heart as if genuinely touched. “Oh, Freddie, how could I ever say no to such a heartfelt proposal? But I must warn you—I take up all the covers at night, and I’m not above hiding the remote if you try to switch to football during one of our movie nights.”

The interviewer is cracking up now, along with the crew behind the cameras. “I didn’t expect this, but I’m loving it! You two are absolutely priceless.”

Freddie stood up, still holding Y/N’s hand, and they both gave a bow to the camera. “Well, you know," he says, turning back to the interviewer, “it’s all about keeping the fans on their toes. Can’t make it too easy for them to figure out what’s going on, right?”

Y/N grins. “Exactly. We like to keep things... interesting.”

The interviewer, still grinning, leans in. “So, should we start planning the wedding, or...?”

Freddie looked thoughtfully at Y/N, tapping his chin. “Well, we’re thinking of something small. Just us, a couple of dragons, and maybe a White Walker to officiate. Keep it intimate, you know?”

Y/N nodded sagely. “Very exclusive. Only the crème de la crème of Westeros.”

The interviewer shakes her head, thoroughly entertained. “Okay, okay, I think we’ve just given the fandom even more fuel for their theories! On a serious note, though, it’s clear you two have incredible chemistry. What’s it like working together on set?”

Y/N smiled warmly at Freddie before answering. “Honestly, it’s a blast. Freddie and I just click, and I think that shows on screen. We’ve got a great rapport, and it’s always fun bringing these characters to life together.”

Freddie nodded, adding, “Yeah, we give each other a lot of shit, but that’s part of what makes it work. We trust each other, and that allows us to really push the boundaries in our scenes—sometimes a bit too much, according to Geeta,” he added with a wink.

The interviewer wraps it up, still chuckling. “Well, it’s been an absolute blast talking with you both. Can’t wait to see what chaos you bring to House of the Dragon next season.”

As the camera pulls back and the lights dim, Freddie and Y/N share a quick, conspiratorial glance, knowing they’d just given the fandom more than enough to talk about—and probably a few new fanfics to write as well.

When the interview dropped on the internet, the fandom absolutely exploded. Social media was flooded with clips of Freddie’s mock proposal, and the internet lost its collective mind.

Fans were dissecting every moment of the interview, from the playful banter to the way Freddie had gazed up at Y/N during his over-the-top proposal. The comments sections were filled with fans declaring that they were “shipping” the two even harder now, some even demanding that someone should cast them both in a romcom.

Amid the chaos, Y/N decided to fan the flames a bit more. She posted a cheeky selfie on Instagram, looking effortlessly stunning as always, with a caption that read, “The coolest of the Hightower siblings.”

It didn’t take long for Freddie to jump in on the fun. He reposted her selfie to his own Instagram story, adding the caption, “THE future Mrs. Fox.”

The internet went into overdrive. Fans were tagging each other, sharing screenshots, and even their House of the Dragon co-stars started chiming in with their own comments, playing along with the joke. The whole thing had taken on a life of its own, and it was clear that Y/N and Freddie had become the fandom’s favorite new obsession.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

During a press event, when Rhys Ifans, the man behind Otto Hightower, was asked about his thoughts on Freddie and Y/N’s antics, his face split into a wide, unabashed grin.

“Well, as Otto,” he began, dropping into character with a serious tone, “I have to say, it’s a major fucking ick. Completely inappropriate! Gwayne and Eleanor getting all... cozy? That would make Otto want to strangle someone. He’d be straight to the quill, penning some strongly worded letters to sort that shit out.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, knowing exactly how Otto Hightower would react to such scandal.

“But as Rhys?” he continued, his tone shifting to one of genuine enthusiasm, “I’m all in! I mean, have you seen those two together? The chemistry is off the bloody charts! If they don’t end up getting married after all this, I’ll be sorely disappointed. They’re perfect for each other—on and off the screen.”

His lighthearted comment sent the room into a ripple of laughter, with everyone loving the idea of Rhys being a secret shipper of Freddie and Y/N.

Within hours, his quote—“Ick as Otto, but fuck yes as Rhys!”—became the battle cry of the fandom, plastered across memes, gifs, and fan art that flooded every corner of the internet. It wasn't just spreading; it was detonating.

The whole situation exploded into a full-blown phenomenon, with fans practically canonizing Rhys as the unofficial president of the Freddie and Y/N ship. People started tagging him in everything, from wild fan theories to NSFW fanfiction, with captions like “Rhys would approve” or “Otto hates it, but Rhys lives for it.”

It was unhinged, chaotic, and utterly glorious. Rhys’s endorsement didn’t just add fuel to the fire; it threw in a grenade, making the whole thing go nuclear.

hii I wanted to please request a fic where Aegon is very needy with the reader, he just follows her around the castle, always finding excuses to touch her skin or kiss her, and please make him sleep hugging her with his head on her breasts and clinging to her waist like she was a teddy bear because is he so desperate to be as physically close to her 😭

i really believe this is so intensely accurate to how he would be, like he’s just a needy lil baby 🥺 this is formatted as a drabble!

needy | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: none!

────── ☾ ──────

“I’ve already been reprimanded for interrupting council meetings twice now,” you pleaded, but his grip from behind on your waist was unbreakable.

“I don’t care, I’m the king, just come,” Aegon begged.

“You must attend to your duties, Aegon, we will only be apart for a few hours.”

“But that is much too long,” he pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I have a much better use of my time than sitting in those stupid council meetings,” he said.

“That is too bad, Your Grace,” you responded.

“Fine,” Aegon huffed, releasing your waist and stepping in front of you to place a soft kiss on your lips.

Aegon had already broken protocol to have you in council meetings twice, pulling you onto his lap as the members of the council tentatively spoke of allegiances and war strategies that were not intended for your ears.

After a long day of strategizing and stress, the Targaryen-Hightower family gathered for the grand supper that Alicent called for each night, despite Aegon’s protestations.

Aegon adjusted your chair so that it was nearly touching his. While they sat and spoke before food was served, he absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair around his fingers.

After everyone had finished eating, Aegon placed his hand on your thigh, and would not budge. You tried to move it, worried of being inappropriate, but you knew it was a battle you would ultimately lose. He rubbed small circles against your leg, partially to work you up, but mostly because he was incapable of leaving you alone.

This was not unusual for Aegon. He always had to be touching you in some capacity, and he always had to be around you.

When he was unoccupied with his political endeavors, he often followed you around the castle like a lost puppy, waiting for you to sit so he could sit pressed against you and attempt to win your attention. If you were focused on anything else, Aegon wrapped as much of his body as he could around you, reminding you that he was there, and he wanted attention.

Aegon hated it when you left, especially if he was unsure of exactly when you would return. It was no fun when you were gone, and he felt cold and alone without your warm presence near.

You and the Dowager Queen were invited to dine in the Iron Islands as a gesture of good tidings from House Greyjoy, without risking pulling the men away from their work.

“I promise I will return before dark,” you told Aegon, holding his face in your hands.

He held your wrists, keeping them against him as he pleaded, “that is a long ways away, please, just stay here.”

“It is only a mere few hours,” you said, but Aegon wasn’t budging.

“I miss you after a mere few hours. Besides, that young Greyjoy lord most certainly has an eye for you.”

“You do not have anything to worry about,” you assured him, “my heart belongs to you and you alone.”

“So allow it to remain here with me tonight.”

“It is only one supper, and it will mean much to House Greyjoy if I attend.”

Aegon sighed. “I’m sure it will.”

You sighed in return. You knew Aegon was possessive over you, and did not trust other men around you, but you were committed to him. “Please, Aegon.”

Aegon stuck his lower lip out in a hyperbolic pout. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

You smiled and placed a kiss on his lips before departing.

You did not mind Aegon’s neediness. He never had such genuine love and affection before, and you could not fault him for never wanting to be a moment without it. You adored being the one he sought out for comfort. You loved being his anchor. You loved him more than anything, and knowing there was a side of him reserved especially for you made your heart swell.

It sometimes got overstimulating or a little too much, especially when you truly needed a moment of space to take care of something and he simply would not leave, but you never got angry with him. Despite his cold exterior, deep within, Aegon was still a scared, lonely little boy who desperately wanted attention and understanding.

So, naturally, when you returned after dark, later than you promised, Aegon was hurt. He took it as a personal offense.

“You said you would return before dark. You promised.” His voice was small and meak.

“I know, I apologize, your mother and I lost track of time,” you tried to explain.

Aegon remained laying on his side, not even looking at you, as he pulled the duvet even higher on his body.

“Did you forget about me?” he asked, so low it was nearly a whisper, and you would have missed it if you weren’t watching him so intently.

“No, no, never,” you said, changing your clothes quickly and sliding into bed next to him, “absolutely not.”

You began to rub small circles on his arm to alert him that you were there, and he rolled around to face you.

“The entire time, I only wanted to return home to you. We truly just did not realize the late hour.”

Aegon did not respond, but simply searched your eyes with his own, looking for any indication that you were lying, but he found none.

“Come here,” you said, holding out your arm.

Aegon rested his head on your breasts, wrapping his arms and legs around your waist as tight as he could, clinging to you and ensuring as much of your bodies were touching as was possible.

“I missed you,” Aegon said, content now that he was getting the physical touch he was so desperate for all night.

“I missed you too, Aegon,” you said, softly stroking his hair, coaxing him into sleep.

“Can I sleep on you?” he asked.

“Of course,” you answered, unable to move him even if you wanted to.

Aegon Targaryen - Lessons

Summary - Aegon's High Valyrian lessons take a tempting turn when his wife, sensing his frustration, offers an irresistible incentive, for every correct answer, another piece of her clothing falls away, turning language practice into an enticing game of lust.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!), strong language

Word count - 2496

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Aegon, focus," I gently chided, placing the book on the settee beside him. He was already seated, but his gaze had wandered far from the pages.

"I can't," he admitted with a sigh, the frustration clear in his voice. "It's so difficult. I don't think I can learn any more." 

There was a sadness in his tone that tugged at my heart. I immediately softened, guilt pricking at me for being too harsh.

"Of course you can, my love," I said, my voice tender now. 

He was already wrestling with his own insecurities, haunted by the fear that he might never live up to the expectations placed upon him. The last thing he needed was for his wife, his one true sanctuary, to add to that burden.

He looked up at me, curiosity flickering in his eyes as I reached for the book again. "You just need... an incentive," I suggested, a playful edge creeping into my voice.

His interest piqued, and he leaned in closer. 

"What does naejot mean?" I asked, watching him closely.

He hesitated, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Um... forward?" he answered, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

I pursed my lips, considering whether or not to correct him. Instead, I decided to let it slide.

"Yes," I said, smiling warmly as his face lit up with relief, though a small part of me noted that he wasn't entirely confident.

I placed the book in my lap and slowly, deliberately, reached behind my head to untie the ribbon holding my hair. I took my time, letting the ribbon slide through my fingers before my hair finally cascaded around my shoulders. 

His eyes widened slightly, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation flickering across his features as he inhaled the faint scent of lavender from my loosened hair.

He gave me a questioning look, but I waved him off. "What does zaldrizes mean?" I asked next.

This time, a confident smirk curled his lips. "Dragon," he answered, and I nodded approvingly.

"Perhaps you don't need an incentive after all," I teased, but he shook his head eagerly, clearly unwilling to give up whatever reward he imagined.

"Fine," I mused, standing up slowly. His eyes followed my every movement, and I could see the anticipation growing in his expression. "But just in case..." 

I began to slowly pull off one stocking, inch by inch, watching as his breath hitched slightly. He leaned forward, his gaze fixed intently on me.

"For every word or phrase you get correct, I'll remove a piece of clothing," I explained, my voice low, almost a purr. His eyes darkened with desire, and I saw his throat bob as he swallowed, his focus unwavering.

He leaned back on the settee, smug satisfaction evident in his expression. 

"Well, your ribbon shouldn't have counted as a piece of clothing," he pointed out, a hint of mischief in his voice.

I clicked my tongue in admonishment. "Hush or I'll only remove one stocking and make this last much longer," I warned, and he immediately raised his hands in surrender, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Let's continue, then," I said, resuming my seat. "What does lentor mean?"

He bit his lip, thinking hard. "Maybe... slow?" he guessed, but there was uncertainty in his voice, as though he wasn't sure if he was recalling it correctly.

I shook my head slowly, watching as disappointment flashed across his face. 

"Not quite," I murmured, toying with the edge of my gown. His eyes darted down to the fabric, but I didn't make a move to remove it yet.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "I thought that was it."

"Patience," I soothed, leaning forward just enough to let my hair brush against his arm. "You'll get there." He nodded, though he still seemed frustrated with himself. 

"Try again," I encouraged. "What about drīvose?"

This time, his brow furrowed deeply. "All?" he asked, but his tone was more hesitant than ever.

I gave him a sympathetic smile, shaking my head. "No, love. It means 'actually.'"

He let out a soft groan, slumping back against the settee with an air of resignation. "I'm never going to get this right," he muttered, his frustration evident.

"Yes, you will," I insisted, my tone firm but gentle. 

I stood up again, slowly beginning to unlace the front of my gown. His eyes snapped to the movement, and I saw a spark of determination light up in his gaze.

"One more try," I offered, my voice soft as I let the laces loosen just enough to hint at what lay beneath. "What is 'all men must serve'?"

He hesitated, his eyes flicking between my fingers and the partially unlaced gown. "Valar dohaeris?" he ventured, his voice tinged with doubt.

I smiled, pleased this time. "Yes," I purred, slipping one shoulder free of the gown, allowing it to hang tantalizingly. His breath caught, and I saw the tension in his shoulders ease slightly.

"See? You're getting there," I encouraged, sitting back down as the gown slipped off fully revealing the sparse clothing I had left. His eyes were locked on me now, the earlier frustration fading as he focused on the incentive.

"Maybe we should always practice this way," he suggested his voice husky with need.

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Ñuho glaeso hūrus," I said, presenting him with a phrase that I knew had tripped him up before.

His brows knitted together in concentration. "Something of my life," he offered, but his uncertainty was evident.

I sighed softly, a playful hint of disappointment in my expression. "Close, but not quite," I teased, my fingers brushing against the hem of my slip, causing his eyes to darken further with desire.

"But I was close, wasn't I?" he pressed, clearly eager to move forward.

"Close, but close doesn't count," I replied with a smirk, leaving the slip where it was, not offering any further reward just yet.

He groaned, rubbing his temples. "This is impossible."

"It's not," I reassured him, leaning in just enough to let my lips brush against his ear. "You just need to focus a little more."

He closed his eyes as he tried to recall the words. "Star?" he guessed, then shook his head. "No, moon?"

I nodded encouragingly as the slip glided off my body, leaving me in nothing but my small clothes. His eyes were practically devouring me now, but I could see the satisfaction in his gaze as well, knowing he had earned each step forward.

"One last phrase," I said, my voice soft and inviting. "If you get this right, you'll have earned your full reward."

He nodded, his focus entirely on me now.

"North, east, south, and west," I prompted, knowing this set of words had always been a challenge for him.

His expression fell for a moment, the directions always causing him grief. But he took a deep breath, determination shining in his eyes. 

"Jelmor," he began, and I nodded eagerly. "Ñāqon, Vẽzor, and..." He trailed off, a look of panic crossing his face as he struggled to remember the last word.

"Come on, my love," I urged softly. "You know this."  My fingers slipped just beneath the waistband of my small clothes, teasing him further.

"Endia!" he suddenly exclaimed, a triumphant smile breaking across his face.

I glanced at the book to confirm, then smiled warmly, the last of my clothing slipping to the floor. He grinned, the excitement in his eyes mirroring my own.

I tossed the book aside and moved toward him, straddling his lap as I rested my hands on his shoulders. My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as his hands moved to undress himself.

But I stopped him, placing my hands over his, holding them in place as he looked up at me, puzzled. 

"Avy jorrāelan," I murmured, my voice soft and full of affection.

A slow grin spread across his face, his eyes warm as he replied, "I love you too."

Only then did I let go, allowing him to remove his pants as I quickly undid his tunic. The reward had been hard-earned, but it was worth every moment of the struggle.

He began kissing down the curve of my neck, his lips warm and insistent against my skin. A soft moan escaped me as I started to grind against his lap, teasing him with the promise of what was to come.

"Now, Ñuhor līr gūrēnna," he growled, his voice thick with desire as he grabbed me firmly under my thighs. I will take what is mine.

In one fluid motion, he flipped us over with surprising ease, a quiet squeal of delight escaping my lips as I found myself beneath him. 

"Yes, you shall," I murmured back, my voice breathless with anticipation as his hands began their exploratory journey across my body. 

He leaned back slightly, hoisting me up toward him, his hands still firmly gripping my thighs as he positioned me just above his hard, twitching cock. The anticipation in his eyes was almost unbearable.

"Feels so much better when you've earned it," he gasped out, his voice a mixture of triumph and raw desire. 

As he guided me down onto him, I let out a soft gasp, my body trembling with pleasure. I nodded eagerly, unable to form words, lost in the sensation of him filling me.

He dipped his head into the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he began to move. His composure was slipping, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through us both. 

He set a steady pace, his control evident, but I could feel the tension building within him, the struggle to maintain that control.

After a few intense minutes, I couldn't resist any longer. My fingers tangled in his hair, playing with the strands in a way I knew drove him wild. His breath hitched, and he faltered for just a moment, the rhythm of his thrusts growing more erratic.

"You feel so good," he whispered in my ear, his voice hoarse with need. 

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me, and I clung to his shoulders for support. My walls squeezed around his cock, drawing a low chuckle from him. 

"Come on, my love," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "Fuck me like I've earned it."

I met his gaze, my eyes dark with passion, and nodded as I began to move with him, matching his rhythm, giving him everything he had worked so hard for.

The room was filled with the raw, intimate sounds of our bodies coming together. 

Our moans and gasps mingled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of his cock driving in and out of me, the intensity of our passion echoing in every corner.

"Fuck, Aegon, yes... right there," I cried out, my voice trembling with need as he adjusted his angle. 

The head of his cock found that perfect spot deep inside me, and the pleasure was so intense it felt like stars were exploding behind my eyes. My body arched into him, desperate for more.

He gasped, his breathing ragged as his control began to slip. 

"I'm close," he managed to say, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. 

His hands tightened around my waist, gripping me like I was his lifeline as his thrusts grew increasingly desperate, the rhythm turning sloppy as he chased his release.

I could feel the tension building within him, his body trembling with the effort to hold on just a little longer. 

"Aegon, let go," I whispered, my voice soft but urgent as I encouraged him, my own body hurtling toward the edge. "I'm with you."

He groaned, the sound guttural and raw as he buried his face in my neck, his pace faltering. I moved with him, our bodies perfectly in sync as we rode the waves of pleasure together, the intensity overwhelming.

The heat between us reached its peak, and with one final, deep thrust, Aegon's body tensed, and I felt him shudder against me, his release spilling into me as he gasped my name. 

The sensation sent me spiralling over the edge, my climax crashing through me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my body trembling as the pleasure consumed me, every nerve alight with ecstasy.

For a moment, the world around us seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of us entwined in the aftermath of our passion. I held him close, my fingers gently stroking his hair as we caught our breath.

After a while, I broke the comfortable silence, a playful glint in my eyes. "So, aren't I a good teacher?" I asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips as I teasingly ruffled his hair.

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, vibrating through both of our bodies. His fingers found mine, intertwining them with a gentle but firm grip. He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my knuckles. 

"The best," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looked at me. "Your methods are rather... motivating."

"Perhaps I should start teaching others, then," I teased, my tone light and mischievous as I watched his reaction.

His playful expression faltered for a moment, and he tutted, shaking his head in mock disapproval. A possessive glint flashed in his eyes as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

"Not with those methods, you aren't," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Those are strictly reserved for me."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of affection for him. 

"Oh, is that so?" I teased back, arching an eyebrow as I pretended to consider his words. He nodded, his expression serious despite the humour dancing in his eyes. 

"Absolutely," he confirmed, pulling me even closer, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. "I'm not sharing this with anyone. You're mine."

His words, though spoken in jest, carried an undercurrent of sincerity that made my heart skip a beat. I could see the love and devotion in his gaze, the same feelings that mirrored in my own heart. 

"And you're mine," I whispered back, leaning in to brush my lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

The kiss deepened slow and tender, a gentle reminder of the connection we shared. When we finally pulled away, we were both smiling, the world outside our little cocoon fading further into the background.

I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as his fingers continued to play with mine. 

"You know," I mused, "if this is how our lessons go, I think I'll need to give you a lot more of them."

He chuckled, the sound low and content. "I think I'll need them," he agreed, his voice a soft rumble in his chest. "After all, I'm a very eager student when you're the one teaching."

We lay there in comfortable silence, our bodies still intertwined. There was no need for words; the connection between us spoke volumes.

All that mattered was this moment, this closeness, and the knowledge that we belonged to each other, in every possible way.

A/n - Another fav, this was so fun to write asw (the idea came to me from a movie I seen years ago called 'Loser') 😭😭

---

Perfect Where Her Rival Fails.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Dark!Reader, Rafe Cameron x Sofia’s Bestfriend!Reader

Summary: Rafe thought Sofia would be the one to fix him.. that was until he met her best friend and became so much worse

A/n: Rafe and reader are NOT GOOD PEOPLE! But it was so hot to write. I find Sofia’s “I can fix him” vibe kinda lame. This is kinda long too ngl.. Descriptions of Sofia and Reader are for plot purpose only and to build differences

TW: CHEATING!!! Not on reader, Rafe cheats with reader. SMUT!!! Descriptions of immoral thinking

-

Rafe should feel ashamed. He should feel sick to his stomach. Guilt and despair should be bubbling in his gut at what he’s doing. But it doesn’t, not even a little bit. Not even at all. This is what was meant to happen, and it feels so fucking good.

He’s got her on top, bouncing wildly as she chases her orgasm, beautiful body looking so erotic as it bends and curves enticingly with each of her movements. plump tits bouncing as whines, moans and airy squeak leave her pouty lips that are even more swollen with the harsh makeout session they had earlier. His back is against his bed as sheets weave around them messily. His head pressing into his pillow as he watched her with pure desire.

“Oh fuck! Rafe.. you feel s’good…” she slurs with a drawn out moan from the back of her throat. Switching to grinding her swollen clit against the trimmed-bush on his lower pelvis. A sticky, translucent mess of their mixed arousal inbetween her legs and leaving his cock drowning. “Mhmm… that’s it baby, ridin’ me so good,” groans Rafe from the back of his throat. Deep and low making her clench around him tightly and causing him to hiss from the tight hole suffocating his cock. “Fuck, gonna make me cum s’fucking hard if you keep doing that.” He warns. Bringing his hands that were behind his head, sliding them up to wrap around her back to push her down against him. Pretty tits pressed against his firm chest, skin sticking together from the sweat. He tangles his hand in her messy hair and pushes her pout against his thinner one. Immediately barging his tongue into her mouth and tasting remnants of himself from the messy blow-job she gifted him earlier. “So much better than her, you know that princess?”

Rafe should feel guilty about fucking his girlfriend’s best friend. But he doesn’t, because her knew. from the moment they met he was gonna take her and make her his, girlfriend be damned. Relationship be damned.

-

Sofia was nice. Sweet actually. She was all soft smiles and modest clothes. Sparkling eyes hiding behind wispy bangs. Voice of reason, the angel on his right shoulder. Mousy beauty, enticing in a plain jane way that is nice to admire and look at. She doesn’t stand out but she had caught his eye and he liked it. Different from snooty Kook girls and prettier than typical Pogue girls. She kept him calm, and pushed him to be better. She could change him; that was until he met her though.

Sofia’s best friend was everything she wasn’t. She was sweet as well, don’t get him wrong. But she had a fire in her eyes, a darkness waiting to be unleashed that he couldn’t help but feel would match perfectly with his. The devil on his left shoulder. She was stunning, the kind of stunning that turns heads and captivates. She was all flirty smiles and batting wispy lashes. Skimpy clothes, excessive jewelry and high heels always accessorizing her perfectly. Makeup always accentuating her enticing features.

Rafe still remembers when they met. He’d thrown a grand party, Kooks on every inch of his property buzzed and high. Some crossed and stumbling. An environment of chaos, fun chaos. He was sitting in his ‘VIP’ section with Barry. Doing lines and rolling a fat blunt to be passed between the two. Waiting for Sofia to arrive, remembering his earlier phone call with her. ‘Can I bring my best friend, she just moved in with me and it’ll be her first time on the island.’ To which Rafe replied mumbled a ‘sure, whatever.” The more the merrier right?

Oh and the more the merrier indeed. Because when Rafe laid his eyes on her for the first time he felt like he was starting the beginning of the rest of his life. Like a missing puzzle piece fit in perfectly that he didn’t even know was missing.

“Y/n this is Rafe,” smiles Sofia, putting a name to the beauty standing before him, “Rafe, this is y/n, my best friend,” boasted Sofia with a bashful smile and proud eyes. A manicured hand reaches out to him, “it’s so nice to meet you. Sofia’s always talking about you.” Pretty lips spread, exposing pearly whites and when he looks into her eyes he can see the same lust swirling around them that is most definitely sitting in his. Rafe extends his hand, immediately engulfing hers as their eyes lock and his lips spread in a small side smile with a “likewise.” Holding onto the moment till a soft voice breaks the tension, “y/n do you want anything to drink?”

They both dropped each other’s hands quickly. The tension building between them snuffing out as they turn to Sofia as she looks at them with an unassuming smile. “Oh…yes! sure! What is there?” replies y/n, turning her attention to her best friend and giving Rafe the opportunity to slyly run his gaze down her figure. Taking in the skimpy clothing accentuating it perfectly and pretty pedicured feet in heels. A stark difference to the dress Sofia was wearing that landed right above her knees, the V on the chest only exposing her collar bones. Feet sat in white sneakers. “I’m not sure…Rafe?” Sofia broke his trance, turning to him as he immediately locked eyes with hers. “What happened?” he replies, having not paid attention to anything they were taking about. Way too entranced by the beauty on display in front of him.

“Y/n asked what do you have to drink” said Sofia with a small smile. And it almost made him feel guilty at having checked out his girlfriend’s best friend right in front of her. Almost. “Uh yeah.. anything really. I’m sure I have it, what’s your poison?” he spoke to y/n, giving her a warm smile as he prepared to make a mental note of what she likes. “Vodka.” she replies back, returning his warm smile with one of her own. Rafe goes to reply when a familiar accent chimes in.

“How about I show you where it’s at doll? Give these two lovebirds a chance to be alone.” drawls Barry. Rafe snaps his head toward him, eyes darkening and lips pursing in an unamused scowl. The drug dealer making eye contact with the beauty in front of them, small smirk on his lips as lust swirls around his eyes. Rafe couldn’t blame him but he sure as hell wanted to pop him right in the face. “M’Barry,” he reaches his hand out to her, Rafe’s eyes following her pretty hand slide into Barry’s calloused grip. “I’m a business associate of Rafe’s” he says slyly, “guess you could say we’re friends too.” He finished with a smile, gold tooth glistening.

“Nice to meet you,” y/n replies offering him a small smile. “Um, yeah sure. That sounds good.” she replied to Barry’s earlier question. Shyly glancing once at Rafe, then at Sofia. Barry getting up and taking the hand in his to guide her along with him. Turning his head back to Rafe with a knowing smirk as Sofia takes her position next to Rafe, nuzzling into his side with a pleased smile. It would normally be welcomed by him, thick arm wrapped around her shoulder. But now he does it reluctantly, tips of his ears burning with heat and chest tightening. Jealousy swirling in his stomach, lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes burn holes into the pair walking away. Watching as y/n follows Barry’s lead, head turning back to look over at the couple. Her eyes landing on Sofia who’s nuzzling his cheek and kissing it with soft pecks. He can see them darken as she moves her eyes to his and catches them already on hers. The pair staring into each other before she turns around and lets Barry lead her away. Rafe’s gaze can’t help but fall to her cute butt popping out enticingly from the mini skirt she was wearing. The clack of her heels furthering with each step.

“I think Barry likes her,” giggles Sofia. The statement making his body burn and the hand not wrapped around her shoulder clench. A small hum coming from his mouth and all he’s thinking is that he’ll be damned if he lets Barry sweep away something he’s already planning on making his.

-

After that eventful night. Rafe makes it a point to be around y/n as much as possible. Whether from suggesting he and Sofia ‘stay in’ at her small place with a ‘let’s invite y/n to watch a movie’ or ‘don’t feel like being around Figure 8, mind if I hang here?’ Each and every time, making up one excuse after the other to reside in the habitat where his prey lies in. Waiting for the right moment to pounce and claim his catch.

If he thought style-wise they were different. It’s only confirmed by the undeniable difference in their shared home. Elements placed by both of them in the space contrasting starkly. Sofia’s bedroom was nice. Clean and always well kept. Neutral, earthy tones and the definition of minimalistic. Clothes organized neatly and folded perfectly in her dresser, and hung up in her small closet. A few pairs of shoes lined up neatly under the hanging clothes. Her room smelled like clean laundry and the ocean breeze. Her bed with a basic black duvet and primped white, cotton sheets always fresh. Smelling of her whenever they’re rolling around, tangled together.

Whereas, y/n’s space was the epitome of girly-girl. Clean but an organized clutter of cute trinkets and decorations. Clothes and lingerie on a rack next to her vanity because the small closet couldn’t fit all her clothes. Heels lined up against the wall, white and black leopard print bedding with satin pink sheets, full of fluffy pillows. Her vanity is orgqnized but full of makeup, and products that she rummages through on her day to day. Jewelry sprawled all over her night stand. All things maximalism. Which he was only able to see after sneaking out of Sofia’s bedroom one night while she slept soundly and stalking over to the other beauty’s bedroom to satiate his need to know more about her. Pressing the door open lightly and watching as she sleeps with pouted lips in her array of pillows and satin sheets. The sweet aroma of Vanilla filling his senses. And lulling him to sleep after he gets back into bed with Sofia, dreaming of the girl down the hall.

Even in their shared bathroom, the pink loofah and sparkly decorations contrasting to Sofia’s white loofah and minimal decorating. And sometimes when Rafe is desperate he pops open her expensive Vanilla-scented shampoo and inhales deeply to consume just a piece of her, so different from the fresh-soap smell of Sofia’s. God and don’t get him started on the loungewear.

Sofia preferred comfort and modesty. She had a cute body that hid under baggy sweats, yoga pants, gym shorts and oversized sweaters or shirts. Maybe even some of his shirts here and there. Rafe liked it don’t get him wrong, it’s cute and she feels comfortable. But when he saw y/n’s loungewear, he didn’t know how he could ever accept anything less. Micro sleep shorts in an array of different pinks, black, grey, whites. Low-rise and always risen up, stuck inbetween her cute butt, giving him a good view of those pretty legs and that gorgeous tummy. Tiny tank tops, shirts that exposed her pretty midriff and so tight on the chest he could always see her nipples poking through. Fluffy pink slippers or cute leg-warmers and fluffy socks on her feet. Thought he prefers when she’s barefoot because then he can see her pretty pedicured toes that he imagines pressing kisses onto.

Rafe wasn’t delusional. Well, he was. But not about this, no way. When he’d first started infiltrating their space, making himself a consistent figure he’d made sure he was extra observant and helpful. In guise of being a good boyfriend to Sofia ‘it’s so sweet that you’re being so nice to her, I know she really appreciates it. The move was hard.’ To which Rafe replied with ‘do it all for you baby.’ A bold-faced lie. He does it because he wants to, he wants to know everything about her. Take care of her. He knows that her and Sofia aren’t rolling in dough the way he is. Especially with her struggling to get a job after he made sure to put in a word not to hire her at the country club with Sofia. Coming up with some excuse that she’s got no work ethic; in reality it’s just him not wanting her to work around other men. Or work in general, she’s far too precious for that. He knows she’s a girl who deserves nice things and gestures. A girl he wants to provide for. And he also knows that the more he provides, he can basically Pavlov her. Make her depend on him and keep a smile on that pretty face he wants to press kisses all over.

So it started with simple things. Foods and snacks she likes; asking Sofia what she prefers to nosh on. To which she happily replied giving him a good list, and he made sure to get Sofia something too. Not to raise suspicion. It made his chest warm when they’d have a movie night, another insistent ‘let’s invite y/n.’ Paying more attention to how she happily snacked on the food he provided, giving him thanks and a shy hug. Offering him some every few minutes while he replied with soft, “m’okay, enjoy it. It’s all for you.” Neither her and Sofia realizing how deep that sentiment actually was.

But then it began escalating… they started hanging out more. Sofia giving Rafe a spare key to let himself into their home since he was there so often, and he took full advantage. Letting himself in when he knew Sofia wasn’t there; insisting on inserting himself into y/n’s life and heart. They spent so much time together; getting to know each other. Rafe becoming a consistent figure in her life; making himself her whole world. Slowly but surely infiltrating and separating her away from Sofia as he reeled her closer to him. Even going as far to find solace in her company when he and Sofia fought; not letting her know he began each and every one to slowly but surely push her away. Making sure Sofia was never there as he forced himself into her best friend’s life.

Sofia had picked up more shifts at the Country Club; making her presence more sparse as she noticed distance from her best friend and her boyfriend. Losing herself in work to not think about the dread building in her chest and the suspicions building in her mind. As for Rafe, it was another normal day of pushing himself into y/n’s life and going to her shared home with Sofia. Which has been almost every day of the week when he wasn’t busy doing business with Barry or making time for Sofia as to not raise suspicion. And today he brought breakfast, setting it out on their small kitchen island. One thing on his mind that today was the day. He was in the middle of setting up when he heard soft footsteps padding towards the kitchen from the small hallway.

“Rafe?” questioned a meek voice; gritty with sleep and sounding oh-so precious. He immediately turns around with a warm smile, running his eyes over her scantily clad figure and down to her pretty toes on display. “Good morning,” he said in a slow drawl, taking in the way her thighs clenched together subtly at that. His warm smile slipping into that familiar smirk. “I brought breakfast, thought we could spend some time together and go to the mainland today to show you around.” He continued, keeping his eyes on her as her gaze moved to the food set out on the island. Shuffling over and rubbing the sleep out of her pretty eyes.

“You got all this .. for me?” she spoke softly, gazing up at his towering figure with soft doe-eyes. Lips frowning in a slight pout that he wanted to kiss away. “Mhmm,” he hummed. He raised a strong hand to grip her chin and run the tip of his thumb slightly over the bottom of her lower lip. Moving his gaze from her eyes to her lips, back to her eyes, “just for you,” he whispered lowly. Watching as she kept staring into his eyes and leaning her body into him slowly. He very much liked that, giving her chin a quick pinch before he pulled away. Turning to grab a glass of orange juice and setting it down in front of the plate he set out for her. Watching as she moved to sit in front of it; eyes dashing between the arranged food. “Eat whatever you want, need that tummy full for today.” He spread his hands on the island, holding his body up as he leaned over and watched as she began adding pieces of her desired choice of food all over the plate. A satisfied hum coming from her as her eyes closed at the taste.

“What do you mean we’re going to the mainland? Why? Without Sofia too?” she questioned after she finished chewing; taking a sip of the orange juice he set out for her while keeping eye contact. “Thought I could show you around, I had nothing to do today and thought it would be nice to take you out so you’re not cooped up in here all day while Sofia’s working.” He said with his usual charm; popping a grape into his mouth and biting into it with a harsh crunch. Watching as she nodded her head in understanding. “After you eat, go get ready and put on something pretty. It’ll be hot today so be sure to dress for it. But make sure it’s something nice, taking you out for a nice lunch.” He continued. Praying she put on one of those cute, short sundresses or mini skirts she’s so known for wearing. He continued to munch on small pieces of fruit while she finished her breakfast. Taking her plate when she finished and giving her a dismissive wave; signaling to her to begin getting ready.

He watched as she happily skipped away, his eyes lowering to her cute butt as if jiggled with her movements. He wanted nothing more than to bite into it; too caught up in his dirty thoughts when he heard a, “can I wear heels?” He immediately popped his eyes back to her face, which is turned around to look at him. Back still facing him. “If they’re comfortable enough, absolutely.” He smiled, watching as she nodded with a smile and continued back to her room as Rafe finished cleaning up and sat onto the small couch. Head leaning back onto it and staring onto the ceiling with a devious grin of all the things he planned to do today. Dozing off slightly as he waited for her to get ready.

“Rafe,” a slight nudge to his shoulder. “Raaaaafe,” drawled out the prettiest voice; a soft hand coming to cup his cheek lightly and caress it as that sweet voice whispered another soft “wake up Rafe, m’ready to go.” She said delicately with excitement in her voice. Rafe’s eyes opening up from dreamland to look at the absolute goddess in front of him. Quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes as she stepped back in front of him. When his vision came back into focus he couldn’t help but run his gaze over her figure. His heart beating in his chest and his pants feeling tighter by the second as her took in the little number on her gorgeous body. Down to the heels on her feet showing off those pretty toes. Her hair done up a a messy up-do with wisp framing her face perfectly. Makeup dewy and fresh, making her look so ethereal and pretty lips slathered in a gloss he wants to kiss away. Silver hoops sitting in her pretty ears.

“You like it?” she asked, giving him twirl. The expanse of her pretty back showing. The sheen material giving him a view of the pink thong nestled inbetween the cute butt he’s been dreaming of marking with his teeth. Watching as her front view came into view, his eyes immediately drawn to the low V and the way her pretty tits looked so erotic hidden between a thin layer of sheen material. Her nipples poking through and her cleavage sitting so nicely.

He let out a low, soft whistle; his gaze which was leaving no inch of her body undiscovered looks back up to her beautiful face. Her eyes already on him through wispy lashes that made them looks so flirty and alluring. An amused smile on her face as he stated, “you look like you should be on the cover of a magazine. Beautiful. You look beautiful. You are so beautiful.” With full sincerity, his eyes holding onto hers to convey all the emotions and want he’s been holding back. He rose up slightly, hand holding out for hers as she placed hers into his. His large grip immediately engulfing her pretty hand as he began dragging her to the front door. “We’re gonna have a ball, believe that.” He looked back at her with a smirk; her head tilting back to meet his gaze and a small giggle falling from her lips as she let him lead her away.

-

Rafe doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone so badly in his life, not even Sofia. After they left the girls’ small house, taking his truck to which he boldly put his hand on her thigh while she sat in his passenger seat; feeling it tense. Testing the waters and feeling satisfied as she relaxed into his touch; thighs slightly spreading to which he gave a small squeeze in approval. His hand caressing her smooth skin the whole way to there. He his head to the side to look at her through his peripheral vision to see her looking out the window, biting those pretty lips and closing her eyes when he would dare to raise his hand a bit higher. Bringing it back to its original spot in a way to tease her every-time, having expected her to push him away. Tell him he’s crossing a boundary, but she never did. Not even when her helped her off the truck, his hand pulling her into his side with it running down her smooth back to sit right above her butt. Not even when he stood behind her on the ferry; his body pressed into hers and arms spread out onto the railing to cage her in as she watched the water with a lip bite and excitement in her eyes. Leaning her head back a bit to expose her neck to him, his immediate response to ghost his lips up her neck and take in her Vanilla scent that’s been driving him crazy. Wanting to lick her smooth skin but refraining, just hovering his face over where he wants to mark her up.

They spent the whole day wrapped up in each other. Rafe had planned on taking her shopping, wanting to spoil her then quickly realizing he didn’t have his truck to hold the influx of items he’s sure she would love to have. Settling for taking her to a jewelry shop, buying her an 18k white gold-diamond necklace that had her eyes widening and a smile spreading on her pretty face. Words of “no Rafe I couldn’t it’s too much,” to, “what about Sofia, wouldn’t you want to get this for her?” Which he quickly shut down with a firm, “Sofia isn’t the kind of girl you buy such pretty, expensive things for, beautiful. You know this isn’t her thing.” His words having two meanings. Watching as she bit her lip in consideration at them, knowing how non-flashy her best friend was and how intimate this gesture was. Ultimately accepting the expensive gift he paid a pretty penny for and letting him clip it onto her neck with a “only girls like you deserve such nice things.” Admiring how it glistened beautifully against her flawless skin-tone. Hoping by tonight that it’s all she’s got on besides the heels on her pretty feet.

After that he took her to his promised lunch, watching as she admired herself in any reflection they walked past to see the diamonds glistening against her. Giddy with happiness and wondering how she could re-pay his kindness. Envy building in her stomach that someone as non-materialistic and plain as her best friend ended up with such a pretty boyfriend whose pockets were loaded. They both sat and chatted over expensive lobster and glasses of Dom Périgon; him feeding her pieces of her food and watching as her lips wrapped around the fork. Praying that he would get to feel them wrapped around his solid cock. His restraint for her slowly dwindling the more they got drunk off champagne.

And fuck -was he glad he splurged on good drinking. Watching as she became more loose, more touchy. Pretty eyes hazing over from the bubbly running through her. Those wispy lashes batting at him as she bit her lip; eyeing him with pure lust. It’s when he felt her right foot begin to slide up the inner-side of his right leg did he know; he had her. Leaning back in his chair slightly and widening his legs to give her more access. The two staring into each other eye’s, lust and intense want swirling around as she slid her foot higher. Eventually reaching his thigh and then the prominent bulge in his dark grey slacks. Rafe clenching his fist and huffing from his nostrils when she begin pressing her toes into it sensually. Massaging him with them as she bit her lip seductively and kept eye contact. Rafe let her tease him till he couldn’t handle it anymore. Getting up from his chair abruptly and tossing down a few hundred dollar bills onto the table before grabbing her by her upper arm. Giving her a chance to put her heel back onto her foot before dragging her out of the restaurant and pinning her against the wall of the alley right next to it. Breathing deeply and watching as she stared into his eyes with that doe-eyed expression that makes him want to ruin her. Pressing his body against hers, his hands spread out on both sides of her head and pushing his face till they were mere inches apart. Their breaths mingling as their breathing became harsher, the restraint between both of them breaking as their need for each other began to win.

“You’ve been driving me crazy. From the moment I saw you; I knew I needed you.” Rafe said lowly, his voice thick with desire as he broke the silence. Watching as she pondered his words, then continuing, “I’m gonna take you home, back to Tannyhill.” He whispered lowly, pushing his head closer to her and brushing his lips against hers as he spoke of everything he planned to do. “M’gonna slip this sexy little dress off and leave you in nothing but those sexy heels and that necklace I bought you.” He drawled, feeling her press closer into him. Her hands that were pressed by her side now sliding up his lower back and up to his shoulders as she held onto him; listening to his every word. “Then m’gonna take what I’ve been waiting too all damn day. Ever since I met you actually. I’m marking my claim on you tonight, and you’re gonna let me because I know you want me as bad as I want you. Know you need me baby, because I need you too.” With that he pressed his lips onto hers. The pair making out harshly with moans and whines falling from her pretty lips into his mouth; harsh groans and breathes falling from his into hers. Their teeth clacking and tongues fighting for dominance as they consumed each other. Any thought of how this might hurt Sofia quickly slipping from their minds. It felt right, right in a way that he didn’t feel with Sofia. Right in a way that she knew any friendship with Sofia wasn’t worth the feelings he gave her.

The pair made out harshly, hands running all over each other as they took each other in. Weeks of tension build up, exploding passionately between them. The sun casting an orange haze over the environment as it slowly went down. Her makeup now ruined and pouty lips swollen. Rafe’s right hand snaking into her pretty up-do and gripping her hair, tugging harshly to expose her neck. Pressing kisses and marking her as she spoke a soft inquiring, “What about Sofia?” Making Rafe’s incessant kissing come to a halt, his head lifting away from her neck as he moved his left hand to cup her cheek; not bothering to remove the hand tangled in her messed up hair. His eyes caught her own, watching as guilt built up in them. Ready to reassure and squash away those feelings because no way was he gonna let Sofia get in between them now. Not anymore than she already has.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said slowly. Watching as she opened her lips to retaliate and immediately shushing her. “Hey -no. Listen..” he continued, rubbing his thumb soothingly on her cheek. “What she means to me is nothing compared to the feelings I’ve developed for you. I need you y/n; it’s driving me insane. I know deep inside me that this feeling I have for you isn’t anything simple.” He spoke seriously, spilling his thoughts to her. Her eyes tearing with emotion as he continued, “and I won’t try to figure it out or stop it. Some things are meant to happen; we’re one of those things. You and me. What we can have together is way too good to give it up for a girl I know I don’t want a future with, but you? We can build a life together. I want to build a life with you. You deserve to be taken care of, provided for. Treated and loved like the goddamn goddess you are. And I wanna give all of that to you baby, wanna give you everything. All of me; I wanna be yours. It’s been weeks of holding myself back to finally make this moment happen and I’m not gonna let anyone ruin it. Especially not her.” he spoke. Soft tears running down her smooth cheeks that he kissed away; cradling her to him. “It’s me and you baby; no one else. Not even Sofia.” He finished, watching the hesitation and guilt wash away in her eyes as she submitted herself to him. Removing her arms from being wrapped up his back to wrap them around his neck. Pushing her lips onto his and kissing him passionately as Rafe immediately welcomed it. Wrapping his arms around her and pressing her body tightly against his.

“Take me home Rafe,” she whispered when she pulled back. “Take me home and make me yours, wanna be all yours too.” She said against his lips, causing him to groan deeply and recapture her lips with his passionately before pulling her away. Scooping her in his arms and dragging her to the ferry bridal style as she giggled and kicked her legs in excitement. The two knowing this was the beginning of a passionate, twisted love story. Sofia be damned.

-

When they made it back to Tannyhill, it’s like a veil lifted over them. Encasing them in their own little world of passion and burning desire. Giggling into each other’s mouths as her heels clacked against the floors of Tannyhill, Rafe consuming her. He took the sheen material sitting over her left shoulder and slipped it off; watching as it fell off her shoulder erotically. The smooth skin of her shoulder, arm and now her left breast being exposed to his eyes without a layer in between. He immediately swiped the right sleeve, the flowy material sliding off with ease. The entire dress dropping as she was left standing in her matching pink thong that came with the dress. Plump tits and gorgeous body on full display for his eyes only. The faux-diamonds on her heels glistening and the real diamonds on her neck shining even brighter. Her flawless skin-tone glowing from the lotion she slathered all over it while getting ready and sparkling from the body glitter she applied to add to her appeal.

Rafe’s gaze ran over the entirety of her body. His eyes full of burning want and need for her. Wanting to ravage and defile her; looking at her with the same hunger a predator looks at its prey. He was gonna make sure she never wanted anyone other than him. He was gonna make sure she belonged to him in her entirety from body to heart and soul. He was gonna make her the queen of his mansion and Kildare. Ruling alongside him in a way Sofia never could. A placeholder and stepping stone for him to find the one he truly wanted. He almost felt bad about Sofia’s role in this situation; feeling like he only met her to be able to meet the love of his life. But his desire for the beauty standing in from of him squashed any feelings that weren’t the ones he had for her.

Rafe immediately grabbed her, throwing her over his shoulder as her shocked gasp turned into realizing giggles. Stomping his way upstairs and smacking her butt; turning his head to bite into it making her squeal as he smirked in satisfaction. Finally reaching his room -their room. Shoving the door open and walking to his bed, tossing her on it roughly as she bounced with delirious girly giggles. Immediately spreading her legs and bringing her pretty manicured hands to massage her beautiful tits. Her eyes full of want and need as she watched him hastily pull his clothing off his body. His belt buckle hitting the floor with a thunk as he pulled every last piece of clothing off.

Once Rafe was fully bare, his hard cock up-right and bobbing with his movements as he moved onto the bed on his knees. Slotting himself between her open legs, his big hands on both sides of her head and pressing his body to hers till they were skin to skin. Her tits pressed tightly to his chest; feeling as she began to whine her hips under him after feeling his hard cock rest itself on her covered pussy. Her hands immediately ran up the huge expanse of his back; feeling his smooth skin under her them as he kissed her roughly. Dominating her mouth immediately, strings of spit exchanging between their messy movements. Rafe beginning to grind his hips to match the rhythm of hers. His cock rubbing on her thong-covered pussy as they made out.

“Needed this so bad. Needed you,” he pressed another fervid kiss to her swollen lips covered in their shared spit. Rafe leaned his weight onto his left hand next to her head, pushing his upper body up as his knees bent to stabilize himself. Her thighs draped over his as he spread them wide with his position. Right hand reaching in between them and moving her soaked through thong to the side. Exposing her perfect cunt to him as he groaned deep in his chest at the sight. “So fucking wet for me huh, princess?” He inquired, clearly already knowing the answer. Rubbing his fingers through the silky folds of perfect pussy. Her legs immediately spreading wider as she whispered, “have been since the moment I met you.” Admitting that she’s needed him just as badly he needed her. Her words sexual but the emotion in her eyes sentimental.

Rafe smiled warmly at her, his eyes portraying the same emotion as he leaned down to get her a quick peck. Using his right hand to bring his leaking tip to her entrance dripping with her arousal. Sliding his tip against her hole before he slid it up to her clit, circling the swollen bud a couple times before guiding his tip back to her entrance. He popped it in, an airy gasp falling from her lips as a deep moan fell from his. He pushed slowly, breaking her cunt in around his thick cock, her legs beginning to tremble. Rafe pushed in till he was he was kissing her cervix, pressing soothing kisses all over her face as she whimpered and whine at the stretch. His big body pinning hers to the bed; chest pressed together while his thighs spread hers open. He brought his right hand back next to her head, beginning to grind slowly to get her use to the feeling of him breaking her open. Ruining her for everyone else but him.

“Mhmmm… s’fucking tight baby fuuuuck,” he emphasized the last word with a drawn out groan. Pushing his head into her neck that was exposed to him as she turned her head to the side to whimper about his deep grinding. Pressing kisses all over it and licking up her neck before sinking his teeth in harshly. Grinning into her skin when she cried out, hips beginning to match the rhythm of his as he stretched her to the brim. Rafe marking her neck with love bites as a declaration of his ownership over her. He brought his lips to her left ear, licking her lobe before giving it a light bite and then whispering, “can’t fucking wait anymore, m’taking what I fucking want, alright?” Beginning to snap his hips into her at a brutalizing pace. Her whimpers quickly turning into loud whines and cries, tears building up her in her pretty eyes and ruining her makeup.

“Yeah…that’s it,” Rafe groaned deeply before continuing, “cry for me baby, get use to the rest of your life. M’gonna fuck this sloppy little hole till my dick is imprinted into you.” He finished, grabbing her arms that were now flailing around to grasp onto something from his harsh pounding. Holding her wrist in his large left hand, using it as leverage to pound into her harder. A wicked smile on his face as he took what he wanted. “Never gonna leave you alone, keeping you next to me for the rest of my damn life. Fuck Sofia, this is the shit I’ve been waiting for right here -ah fuck!” He spoke harshly, voice gritty with desire and affected by his efforts at destroying her for any other man besides him. He meant it when he said he was going to fuck his print into her. “It’s me and you baby, remember that.” He reminded her, “just me n’you.”

-

They’d been going at it for hours; taking each other apart in the most primal way. Rafe fucked her stupid till she passed out. Her heels long gone and thong ripped as he bent her into every position impossible; stretching her open and abusing her sopping hole with his fingers, tongue and cock. Whispering phrases of “that’s my good little cumslut. Doesn’t even care that she’s fucking over her best friend. As long as she gets daddy’s dick breaking her open, huh?” He spoke menacingly, his thick bicep wrapped around her neck as he pounded into her from behind. Face buried in her hair as she dug her manicured nails into his forearm. Her left arm bent back and held against her lower back with rafe’s left hand. Choked gasp of “yes daddy” and “just for you” falling from her swollen pout. Leaving Rafe satisfied as he replied a hushed “that’s right baby, ain’t gotta worry bout a damn thing aside from taking this dick.” Or “Got the sheets fucking soaked, maybe I should fuck Sofia one last time and press her face into the mattress so she can taste what real top-tier pussy tastes like.” His back against the pillows, her back pressed to his firm chest. Large hands hooked under her thighs and spreading her out while he bucked up with non-stop harsh strokes into her already filled and leaking pussy. Their mixed arousal dripping all over his balls as she had her arms laid next to his head; letting him take whatever he wanted. Crying out “no! mine!” when he dared even teased her with the thought of fucking Sofia again after this. Making Rafe chuckle as he spoke out a “that’s right baby, m’all yours. Just yours.”

After so many hours of fucking her stupid, she passed out immediately after the last round. Rafe holding her shaking body to his, her face pressed into his neck. His right arm under her head as his left caressed her hair; keeping her safe in dreamland while they lay on their sides. Kissing her hair every so often the hour she was passed out. He was about ready to get up and go to the restroom; attempting to slowly remove her right arm wrapped around his waist when he heard her whine. Her eyes blinking open, wispy lashes clumped together from the tears of passion he caused. “Don’t leave me,” she pouted, regaining strength to pull him back into her. The action causing a warm feeling to spread through his body like wildfire. He adored that she wanted him just as bad.

“Gotta clean you up m’love.” He whispered against her lips after pressing a soft kiss to them to soothe her. Watching her look at him with sleepy eyes; lust beginning to swirl in them again. “Nuh-uh,” she replied, pressing her right hand to his chest to press him into the mattress flat on his back. Straddling his body immediately, her hands on both sides of his head as she bent down to give him a kiss. Her leaking pussy settled over his cock, pressing down against it. Rafe immediately relaxing into the mattress and shuffling slightly to get into a more comfortable position in middle of the bed. When they pulled back he brought his right hand to cup her left cheek, running his thumb over it soothingly as they held the silence, staring into each other’s eyes. “What do you want, hm?” He questioned, though he already knew the answer. “If you want something, take it. I know I did.” Smiling as he watched her lift herself up on her knees slightly, hand reaching between them. She gripped his already hard cock in her soft hand, teasing his tip against her clit making them both lightly moan. She didn’t do it for too long, already way too built up after weeks of tension between them. Needing him again even after the hours of sex he put her through already. She brought him to her soaked entrance, popping his tip in as she watched his face. His brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he watched her cute cunt swallow him.

Rafe immediately put his hands on her hips and positions his legs. Ready to immediately begin giving it to her and giving her a couple harsh thrust before her dainty hands smacked onto his chest and pushed him back into the sheets, shaking her head side to side to say no. Rafe’s brows furrowed with confusion his lips opening to say something before she interrupted his questioning with, “wanna take care of you daddy. Wanna be good for you.” Rafe’s body immediately relaxing as a satisfied smirk spread across his face. “Yeah? Well alright,” he smacked her left ass cheek with his right hand; then removing both his hands from her hips and laying them crossed behind his head. Ready to let her do all the work. “Get to it princess; daddy’s got a fat load waiting for you.”

Her hips began grinding back and forth, rubbing her overstimulated clit across the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock. Hands pressed into his chest and whines falling from her lips as she worked herself into it. Rafe biting his lip while darting his eyes between her body grinding against him and to her pretty face contorting in pleasure. When she finally felt ready she removed her hands from his chest; reaching her hands behind her to stabilize herself on his strong thighs. Wet plops of their arousal and skin smacking as she began bouncing herself up and down. Working herself on his dick as she cried out his name; Rafe entranced by the goddess on top of him. He didn’t know where to look, from his dick breaking in her pussy to her beautiful body moving sensually to that gorgeous face with messy makeup and swollen lips. He clenched his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and feelings running through him; head turning to the left as she leaned down to start kissing and sucking marks into him the way he did her. When he opens his hazy eyes just a bit that’s when he sees it …

A picture of him and Sofia on his nightstand. Her face smiling brightly as she looked so happy. Half his face hidden in her hair as he gave a soft smile to the camera. A moment in time at the beginning of their relationship when Rafe felt like he could actually see himself building something long term; feeling that Sofia could fix him. A feeling that was now long gone. Rafe should feel ashamed; he should feel sick to his stomach. Guilt and despair should be bubbling in his gut at what he’s doing. But it doesn’t, not even a little bit. Not even at all. This is what was meant to happen, and it feels so fucking good. He turns back to the one he truly wants and doesn’t regret his actions in the slightest. This was his woman.

He’s got her on top, bouncing wildly as she chases her orgasm, beautiful body looking so erotic as it bends and curves enticingly with each of her movements. plump tits bouncing as whines, moans and airy squeak leave her pouty lips that are even more swollen with the harsh makeout session they had earlier. His back is against his bed as sheets weave around them messily. His head pressing into his pillow as he watched her with pure desire. Sex was never this good with Sofia, she wasn’t wild. Wasn’t adventurous, as plain in bed as she was outside. She never made his body burn ablaze or his nerves go haywire. She never consumed his heart, body and soul the way the girl on top of him does. Even with Sofia he felt something incomplete inside him. He didn’t know what he was missing to be found it. Till he found her …

“Oh fuck! Rafe.. you feel s’good…” she slurs with a drawn out moan from the back of her throat. Switching to grinding her swollen clit against the trimmed-bush on his lower pelvis again. The overwhelming feeling of his tip hitting her cervix becoming too much. A sticky, translucent mess of their mixed arousal inbetween her legs and leaving his cock drowning. He’d hurt Sofia again and again if it meant having this sight in front of him and these feelings running through him all the time.

“Mhmm… that’s it baby, ridin’ me so good,” groans Rafe from the back of his throat. Deep and low making her clench around him tightly and causing him to hiss from the tight hole suffocating his cock. “Fuck, gonna make me cum s’fucking hard if you keep doing that.” He warns. Bringing his hands that were behind his head, sliding them up to wrap around her back to push her down against him. Pretty tits pressed against his firm chest, skin sticking together from the sweat. He tangles his hand in her messy hair and pushes her pout against his thinner one. Immediately barging his tongue into her mouth and tasting remnants of himself from the messy blow-job she gifted him earlier. “So much better than her, you know that princess?”

Rafe should feel guilty about fucking his girlfriend’s best friend. But he doesn’t, because her knew. From the moment they met he was gonna take her and make her his, girlfriend be damned. Relationship be damned. Sofia would be okay, eventually. But he wouldn’t if couldn’t have his girl, he’d rather crush Sofia’s soul then let anything get inbetween them. Any softness he felt for her fading away quickly at the thought of her becoming an obstacle between them.

“Dadddyyy,” she whined into his mouth when his hips began bucking up. He took over control, his need to reassert dominance overtaking him. He was gonna make sure she would never leave him. She was stuck here with him and he was going to ensure it in anyway possible. Little ‘uh uh uh uh’s’ falling from her as he pounded up into her; his legs tense with stabilizing his movements. His right hand came to the back of her head to keep her lips pressed to his. Hips jackhammering into her as she took everything he gave her. Her arms beginning to flail around again to stabilize herself until he grabbed them in his left hand and pinned them to her back with her wrist in his large hand. He pulled his lips back, a string of spit connecting his to hers as she whined and tried to reconnect them. Rafe shook his head and nudged her nose with his as he spoke against her mouth. “Take it m’love, daddy needs you to take it. Need you to know you’re never gonna leave me. We’re in this together. You n’me.” Watching as her eyes looked into his with full sincerity as she nodded and choked out “you n’me. Don’t wanna leave you daddy. Never.” With that Rafe pressed his hips up on more time, groaning out her name repeatedly. His cock all the way inside her and tip kissing her cervix as ropes of cum dribbled out and filled her up for the what feels like the millionth time that night. His orgasm triggering her own as her legs shook in their straddling position; crying out into his mouth as she squirted around him again.

Rafe fell back into the mattress, her collapsing on top of him as they both were breathing harshly to catch their breathes. Rafe’s right hand came up to rub her back soothingly as she came down from the high he gave her; soft little cries leaving her that turned into almost inaudible whimpers. The two so wrapped in each other and the aftermath of their love-making that they didn’t even hear the harsh steps stomping up the stairs to Rafe’s bedroom.

When they’d gone out on their date, Rafe put his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and ensured she did too. Not wanting any interruptions for their day together. And ever since then it hasn’t come off, the pair never realizing that Sofia was blowing up their phones with incessant text and calls. Questions of where they were, if they were together. Until she couldn’t handle it anymore and drove straight to Rafe’s in the middle of the night; praying the gut feeling she’s had for weeks wasn’t going to be confirmed tonight. Oh how she wishes she was wrong. She’d known for weeks, a gut feeling stabbing in her for so long. She’d been suspicious when Rafe had become so kind, tender to her best friend. Chalking it up to him wanting to make Sofia happy by being so welcoming and be a good boyfriend. When he started coming over everyday she was a little surprised, he usually called her over to Tannyhill. She knew he wasn’t a fan of the cut. When he began insisting on staying in for dates, always asking for y/n to intrude on them. It bothered her but she didn’t say anything, too worried about Rafe’s softness sizzling out and making her best friend feel bad. She was even hesitant to give him a key but did it anyway because she convinced herself she was being paranoid. ‘He’s finally man’ing up,’ she’d told herself. Only not knowing it wasn’t for her but her best friend.

She knew when Rafe became cold, distant. Starting fights over anything and everything; never wanting to talk it out and just leaving her wallowing in her own sadness. She knew when her best friend started acting the same, cold. Her distance deepening by the day. And when she came home one day to find them laughing together and eyes sparkling at each other, not even noticing she walked in. The two chatting away on the couch. It pushed her to pick up more work, needing to numb the nagging feeling and ignore the suspicions growing in her mind. But she knew, a woman always knows. And she most definitely knew when she walked straight into Rafe’s house. The scrape of pink fabric laying at the bottom of the staircase, one she knew belonged to her best friend. Sofia knew yet she needed to see it, needed to finally know that she wasn’t feeling crazy. But nothing could have prepared her for shattering of her heart as she slammed Rafe’s bedroom door open. Two people she loved so much, wrapped around each other as they pressed soft kisses to each other’s lips. In their own world till she screamed out an “I knew it!” and only then did their veil lift.

Y/n and Rafe turned to look at Sofia standing at the entrance of the bedroom, tears running down her cheeks. Rafe was quick to act, turning his body along with y/n’s to shield her. His back turning to Sofia as y/n fell to the other side; her right leg wrapped around his waist as she looked at her best friend over Rafe’s shoulder. A scowl now etched on his face as he looked back at Sofia through a side eye, “yo! what the fuck is your problem?!” He fumed, as if Sofia was a stranger intruding on their intimate moment. As if she was never his girlfriend, as if she was never anything to him. Sofia’s teary eyes darted between Rafe’s scowling face, to her best friend. Oh her best friend, someone she’d know for so many years. Someone who was practically a sister to her, someone she let into her home and around her boyfriend. She trusted her. “How could you?” she spoke to y/n, the pain in her chest almost debilitating. “How-how could you?! I trusted you! I let you into my home! I let you around my boyfriend and this is how you repay me! BY FUCKING MY BOYFRIEND!” She screamed, overwhelming feelings of anger and despair radiating off of her. “You’re a fucking slut! A whore!,” she stepped forward more into the room ignoring the ‘hey!’ from Rafe as she continued, “I should have known. You always begged for attention, just look at the way you dress. You’re a stupid attention seeking whore!” She raged at her best friend whose eyes full of guilt now turned into equal rage.

Rafe went to open his mouth and defend his woman when y/n spoke up first, “save me the fucking pity party Sofia! You’re just a sad case of another girl getting way to ahead of herself because a cute guy finally gave her attention,” she retaliated. Sitting up now, not caring about her state of undress or the cum leaking down her thighs as she pushed herself up to her knees on the bed. Finger pointing at Sofia as Rafe’s eyes darted between the two girls. “You’ve always made me feel bad! Like i’m someone who needs to be fixed and is full of faults. Always telling me where I went wrong or what I’m not doing good enough. You act so high and fucking mighty all the time like you aren’t trying to compensate for your own inadequacies!” She yelled, rage flowing through her and continuing when Sofia went to open her mouth, “I’m sick of the patronization hidden behind care. I’m sick of you making me feel bad for who I am,” y/n stepped over Rafe’s legs to stand on the floor and face her ex-best friend. Stalking toward her, “you’re always trying to fix people to make up for your lack of personality. Like everyone is in the wrong for being themselves just bc you’re too pathetic to know who you are. I’m done letting you do it to me. And I won’t let you do it to him,” she screamed pointing at Rafe who was on his back and holding himself up on his forearms as he watched the two ex-friends at each other’s throat. Turned on and feeling satisfied that the kitty claws he’s been working so hard to expose are finally out. A sick smirk on his face as he stared at Sofia. “For months, you complained about him to me before I came here. How he was ‘unhinged’ and how you could help him. Make him better. And it wasn’t until I met him that I realized how wrong you were! Maybe he’s not perfect, maybe he’s rough and mean and fucked up! But that’s what makes him, him! And i love it! For the first time in my life I don’t feel like I need to put on an act, like I need to be perfect. He loves me for who I am not what he feels he can make into and I feel the same about him. So maybe we’re fucked up! But at least we’re not a miserable cunt who’s hellbent on fixing people because she can’t fix herself.” Finished y/n, her arms crossed against her bare tits as she stared Sofia down whose tears were running down her cheeks, face red with emotion and chest heaving. To add to insult Rafe let out a low whistle at y/n’s words and a small chuckle with an “ouch.” Watching as Sofia’s eyes left her staring contest with her best friend to him, not making any effort to move from her spot.

“You can leave Sofia, we don’t want you here. Ever.” taunted y/n, turning on her heels to walk back to bed and climbing in it while Rafe shuffled over to the other-side. Right arm widening to encase her with it as his left forearm held him up. Immediately wrapping his arm around y/n as she got near, the two smashing their lips together with a passionate kiss to add salt to the wound. Not letting up until they heard footsteps stomping out of the room and down the hallway. Rafe pulling back with that sick smirk on his face as he yelled out for Sofia to hear “don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Both of them turned to the doorway and listening as they heard her sobs deepening and steps become quicker. The glass door slamming shut and letting them know she’d left.

They turned to face each other with wicked smiles as they smashed their lips together, Rafe using the arm wrapped around her to push her body onto the mattress and press himself flush to her. “That was so fucking sexy, you mean it? You love me? Flaws and all?” he smiled into her lips, chest feeling warm with love as she giggled and nodded. Kissing him again before saying, “as long as you love mine.” Eyes staring into his for confirmation that he quickly gave her, “baby Imma love all of you for as long as you let me. I don’t want some faux-perfect bitch, I want my girl who’s freak matches mine.” Capturing her lips again and ready to go for another round. Grinding against her till she pulled back with worry in her eyes, “wait! what about my stuff she’s gonna wreck it!” y/n whined and kicked her leg into the mattress.

“Don’t worry about it princess, I’ll replace it all and more.” He chucked and went to recapture her lips when she pushed against chest that slipped inbetween them, crying out a, “but Rafey some of that stuff is vintage! Irreplaceable!” Whining and pouting her lips as Rafe rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed both her hands in his large one, pinning them to the bed as he dominated her once more.

“Shuddup and let me love you. Such a brat. You’re lucky I love you so damn much.”

A/N: Damn I almost feel bad for Sofia ngl. The way i described Sofia was just for plot purposes! I just feel like Rafe needs a bougie baddie idk! and I really think Sofia is boring!

---

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.

---