#monogamy edition

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

I can't believe AI killed the polycule 😔

[chippdhearts]

CSI and LGBT+ Headcanons ↳ Julie Finlay ✦ Bisexual + Polyamourous

[beyond-mogai-pride-flags]

Political Non-Monogamy Pride Flag

Political nonmonogamy - PNM (in Portuguese: não monogamia política - NMP): the articulation of an anti-monogamism (or anti-monogamy) linked to the construction of a life project and sociopolitical identity guided by a collective and emancipatory thought of non-monogamy.

This concept is similar to relationship anarchy (RA), but not to be confused with ethical non-monogamy (ENM).

[pkmn-edits]

Roserade 300x300 icons edit!

[timkontheunsure]

extremely dumb rabbit hole

Ok so you know how people have been joking that Blitz will assume Stolas is proposing, because some birds use shiny stones in courtship?

So I made the mistake of looking up barn owl courtship behaviour lol 🤦

In gay barn owl, (yes is a thing), it's dominant male getting on top, pinning the other down and biting them on the neck... 😆

They're also birds with high rates of monogamy with their chosen mate pfft.

Edit: a nice person reminded me that the males like mates with lots of spots.

[astrosouldivinity]

Venus Sign Observations: 💞🤎💞

Mutable Venus Edition: ♾️

Pisces Venus: 🌊

🌊 Pisces Venus is open-minded when it comes to various love styles, which can be attributed to their mutable water nature. They possess a remarkable ability to offer unconditional love to virtually everyone they come across.

🌊 In intimate relationships, they enjoy pleasing their partners and don’t mind adapting to their partners love style/needs especially if that would make them happy.

🌊 Venus in Pisces can get obsessed with their partner too high-key. They are flighty but obsessed at the same time which can be confusing for their partner. However, I think their love can be pretty intense in general.

🌊 As loving as Pisces Venus are, I think it’s lowkey a f-boy/girl placement. They have a tendency to fall in love quickly, but they can also move on just as swiftly. However, the process of moving on can sometimes take a considerable amount of time for them as well. Their emotions can be chaotic, leading them to appear flighty in their relationships.

🌊 Pisces Venus doesn’t always want to be floating around in love. They yearn for a secure and comforting space to calm their emotional waves. Essentially, they desire a safe haven where they can find solace and relaxation in their relationships.

🌊 Venus in Pisces will love all of you even the darkness that is kept tucked away. It truly doesn’t scare them. So long as you keep up with their fantasy, don’t take advantage of them, and hurt them too many times to the point where they can’t forgive you, they aren’t going anywhere.

🌊 Venus in Pisces tend to be open-minded when it comes to relationships, they may even be open to polyamory, but they are not opposed to monogamy either. Their preference for one or the other depends on their other placements. For example, as a Pisces Venus myself, I am capable of being loyal when the situation calls for it. This ability to navigate both relationship styles can be attributed to my Taurus Sun/Mars placements, which provide stability and a sense of commitment.

🌊 Having a Gemini Moon further enhances my openness to explore different relationship dynamics. However, I will only participate in them if I am with a partner who is mature about it. I’ve been with people before that were non-monogamous but didn’t like it when I was the same way. Like, babe, I'm simply matching your energy.

Sagittarius Venus: 🏹

🏹 Sagittarius Venus is open-minded when it comes to choosing a partner. In fact, they are more likely to have a partner from a foreign country or a different cultural background. However, they do have a fear of commitment. Which often leads them to explore various relationship dynamics, as they value their freedom and independence.

🏹 In their intimate relationships, Venus in Sagittarius likes to maintain an easy-going nature. They prefer to let things unfold naturally and avoid rushing into anything. Clinginess is not well-received by them, as it gives them a sense of discomfort when their freedom is suffocated or suppressed.

🏹 They may be more inclined to explore relationship dynamics such as ethical non-monogamy or open relationships. Their love for diverse experiences extends to their romantic life, and they may find fulfillment in connecting with many different individuals.

🏹 Venus in Sagittarius’s adventurous nature and desire for new encounters can make them more open to exploring non-traditional relationship structures that allow for multiple connections.

🏹 While Sagittarius Venus have a tendency to value their freedom, they are still capable of committing to a relationship. However, it requires finding the right person. Like someone who shares their open-mindedness and free-spirited nature. They need someone who won’t restrict them.

Gemini Venus: 🦋

🦋 Gemini Venus are adaptable with their approach to love. They will adjust their mindset and actions when it comes to matters of the heart. While they may appear flighty and free-spirited in their romantic endeavors, once they make a decision to commit to a partner, they are decisive and fully dedicated.

🦋 Gemini Venus are witty and possess a great sense of humor. They enjoy playful banter and need someone who can match their energy and make them laugh overall.

🦋 Venus in Gemini values intellectual stimulation in their relationships. They seek a partner who is not only intelligent but also intriguing and captivating. They desire someone who can engage in meaningful conversations and challenge their thoughts and beliefs. The ability to broaden their perspectives is essential for them, as they thrive on continuous learning and growth.

🦋 They appreciate partners who are open to new ideas, experiences, and perspectives. Gemini Venus enjoys exploring different viewpoints and needs a partner who can also embrace diversity and adapt to new situations.

🦋 They are attracted to partners who can strike a balance between nurturing the connection and allowing each other to flourish as individuals.

🦋 Venus in Gemini values their independence and needs a partner who will respect and appreciate this aspect of their personality. It is important for them to be with someone who has their own interests and hobbies, as they believe in the importance of maintaining individuality within a relationship.

Virgo Venus: 🍃

🍃 Virgo Venus tends to approach love and relationships with a practical and analytical mindset. They value stability and reliability in their partnerships, seeking a strong foundation based on trust and mutual support.

🍃 They often have high standards in their intimate relationships, but it stems from their desire to see their partner reach their highest potential. They genuinely want their loved ones to be the best version of themselves.

🍃 In their intimate relationships, Venus in Virgo values self-improvement and personal growth. They always strive to become better versions of themselves and expect the same from their partners.

🍃 Intellectual stimulation and engaging conversations are important to Virgo Venus, as they enjoy exchanging ideas and learning overall.

🍃 Venus in Virgo has a strong desire to fix and save others, driven by their compassionate aura. However, their giving and selfless nature can make them vulnerable to being taken advantage of by others.

🍃 In their intimate relationships, they prioritize finding someone who fits seamlessly into their lifestyle and meets their high standards. However, if they genuinely love someone, they are willing to be more flexible and make compromises.

🍃 Virgo Venus values cleanliness, organization, and orderliness in their surroundings, and this preference often extends to their relationships as well. They appreciate partners who are responsible, hardworking, and self-sufficient.

🍃 Open-minded when it comes to different love styles. They are willing to try anything once, especially if it makes their partner happy. Open relationships could be a possibility for them, especially if they have other mutable placements.

[seventeenpins]

bloom

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: part three of bad girl. you decide to go out on a tinder date. joel gets jealous.

warnings: joel is an asshole, stepcest, infidelity, oral sex, somnophilia (mentioned) unsafe piv, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, smidge of role reversal (really just two stubborn people being stubborn), multiple orgasms, romance almost????, joel is sad and lost and possibly in love but mainly just wants to be wanted (but is bad at talking about real things), maybe not edited as much as it ought to be--pls tell me if there are any glaring issues you notice

a/n: finally finally actually got this finished weeks after i was certain i'd be posting. thanks to @livingdeadmaria for the jealousy angle. kinda gets away from itself, but i hope very much that you enjoy. i can't begin to express how much i appreciate your thoughtful messages and comments and interactions 💕

these past few weeks had gone by in a blur and you're hyperaware of how quickly the time is passing. joel had been taking good care of you, fucking you pretty much any time your mom was out of the house, and a couple times when she wasn't.

after casually mentioning how you'd love for him to make you feel good every minute of the day, he had laughed.

"doubt you'd want me makin' ya feel good if you're not even awake to enjoy it," he'd said.

"are you kidding me? waking up to you playing with me sounds like a dream," you told him, and he stilled, swallowing deeply.

your mom would pass out heavily after a night of drinking, and when her snores started in earnest, joel would sneak into your room, lock the door, and wake you up by dragging a palm over your tits, pinching at your nipples, rubbing a finger along your pussy, all the while telling you how good you're doin', that you taste so fuckin' sweet, god you're a fuckin angel when you're sleepin', and the one that you heard him say right as you woke up with his fingers deep in your cunt and a hand on your breast, already all worked up, and you came instantly; "you'd better hush that goddamn mouth or i'll hush it for you, baby, you gotta be quiet for daddy or your momma might wake up and then daddy won't be able to make you feel good like this-"

so no, you weren't unsatisfied with your sex life. in fact, you were more than satisfied.

it scared the hell out of you.

you were waiting, you realised, for shit to hit the fan. for joel to get bored with you. to get too busy. to come to his senses.

and, after all, the summer would be over soon, and you'll be back to your usual life. getting absolutely railed by your stepdad didn't exactly seem like something that was sustainable, long-term.

the two of you had never defined this, but you decided you needed a palate cleanser. something that'd catapult you back into the real world. if you ended up with a disappointing hookup, so be it. most hookups were, and the pornographically cinematic sex you were having with joel couldn't last forever. hell, you expected him to file for divorce any day now, and the likelihood of having any kind of relationship after he'd gone for good seemed very low indeed.

and so you decided that it was unhealthy to focus on only one person, especially when monogamy had never suited you, and the one person just so happened to be your stepdad.

you'd never deleted tinder but you couldn't remember the last time you'd opened the app. at this point, you'd convinced yourself you kept it because you thought of it as a kind of sociological study -- you endured because it meant you got to examine the extremes of human behavior and it was absolutely fucking fascinating.

so you scrolled aimlessly, appreciating the change in the pool of people that was your hometown, but quickly cursing yourself when you saw that a former student teacher of yours had just super liked you. horrifying.

you stared at your phone screen--swiping left on almost everyone, adjusting your filters to include ages 25-50, and feeling wholeheartedly disappointed at what tinder had to offer--until one face popped up. you'd almost swiped left by default, but stopped yourself just in time.

it's your old high school boyfriend, connor. not your first. not your last. but the most serious you'd had throughout high school, and definitively one of the best sexual experiences you'd had before your twenties. you'd ended things on good terms before you each went off to college.

his entire profile, you decide, is an assortment of green flags containing exactly what you need; looking for short term fun. social drinker and 420 friendly.

he's got a couple of goofy pictures, but he's aged well in the past decade, and you'd be down to find out if he's as good a lay as you remember. no possibility of falling in love; you're both only in town for the summer, nor are you looking for anything long-term. and, you add on to your mental list of reasons, he was never a creep, nor a murderer, and though that's a very low bar it's still nice to clear it. you can work with this. you swipe right and it's a match!

your mom has a girls weekend planned that you think might actually involve her and her friends, and joel told you he'll be out all weekend for his brother's bachelor party, so that's when you decide to set your date. it's nice to have the option to bring a guy back home and not have to worry about any awkward situations.

it's a friday night and you are all dolled up. your dress is tight, your tits look amazing, and the bar is lively. tonight is clearly the night to be out. there's a celebration going on in the corner with an incredibly drunk birthday girl scream-singing along to the music. pool tables packed. a group of men loudly complaining about the friend they're waiting for who's always late.

it doesn't take you long to spot connor. he's there, looking surprisingly good, leaning against the bar. a flash of dazzling white greets you when he catches your eye, grinning.

"hey," connor calls over to you, "it's been a minute! you look great!"

he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and looks you up and down, eyes sweeping over the spill of your cleavage and cinch of your curves. you know you look good, and he knows it too.

"wasn't sure if this was still your drink," he tells you, passing you a mojito, "but this is for you."

"i can't believe you remembered!" you tell him--mojitos used to be your favorite-- "i usually go for something less sweet these days, but i still love em. thank you."

you take a sip and watch as he takes a big gulp of his beer. the condensation on the bottle drips down his thumb, a drop of moisture hanging on for a moment before falling. his arms are nicer than you remember, veins drawn in beautiful patterns, muscles tensing at seemingly the slightest movement.

yeah, you could fuck him.

he offers you a questioning half smile and you realise you've really just been staring at him, not sure how long for. "didn't realise how hot you'd gotten," you tell him, and he cracks up. any uncomfortable tension dissolves, and you relax into it. you're almost able to forget about joel miller.

you're having a great night. one drink turns to three and before you know it, you're on the dance floor, enjoying the sensation of connor's hands all over you--holding your waist, brushing your cheek, groping at your ass as you grind together, both of you hot and sweaty and feeling wonderful. you turn your face to connor and kiss him, hot and passionate, running your tongue along his perfect teeth. it's... nice. he lets out a little whimper, which you like, but where joel would've leaned in deeper, cupped your face, tangled his hands in your hair and growled into your mouth in response, connor pulls back and practically giggles. "you're so sexy, baby," he says, and that's all fine and good, but it's not as exciting as you'd hoped. it just feels bland.

but you've made the effort to come out, and you're not gonna give up just yet.

you kiss him again, trying to will a bit of passion into the exchange, but all of a sudden he's shoved aside by some asshole barrelling past and he's nearly knocked over.

"hey what the fuck!" connor shouts, and the person who shoved into him stops. turns to you both.

before you see his face, you know it's him. broad shoulders and a muscled back. patchy beard. great forearms. and his jaw is set in the most beautiful scowl you've ever seen.

"joel-" you gasp.

this wasn't part of the plan. why the fuck is he here?

then you notice the group of somewhat rowdy men in the corner, right in the direction he was heading. one of them calls over in his direction, and he holds up a finger before turning back to you.

this must be his brother's bachelor party.

connor looks between the two of you. "you know this guy?" he asks, and you nod. he turns to joel. "you need to watch where you're walking, man."

a muscle in joel's clenched jaw ticks as he stares him down, and connor takes a tiny step back.

"connor," you say, "this is, uh, this is joel. my stepdad. joel, this is connor."

"oh," connor says, "well, just be more careful next time. nice to meet you, man. joel."

he extends a hand, which joel blatantly ignores as he fixes you with a gaze.

"best be gettin' home, sweetheart," he says, tone colder than you've ever heard it before. you swear you can see a vein in his forehead pulsing. "it's getting late."

you raise your eyebrows. is he... mad? and if so, is this the best he can do? "joel, it's a friday night. i'm having a good time, and i'm gonna keep having a good time."

he stares you down.

"that alright?" you ask, a challenge.

he grits his teeth again and nods sharply, hissing out a fine, throwing one last glare at connor before he walks away rigidly.

connor frowns at you and you shrug, but you glance over at joel, watching him retreat.

now that you know he's here, at this bar, it's almost impossible not to keep looking over at him.

he looks strangely awkward over there, like he's trying to appear relaxed but is following a relaxation guide written by aliens. he's rigid. uncomfortable. a man clasps him on the shoulder (his brother?) and doubles over in a laugh, which he seems to join half-heartedly. you can see how he's holding his beer with a white-knuckled grasp. his shoulders have relaxed a little, but in a way that looks intentional. you're not sure if anyone else would notice, but you've watched joel a lot these past few weeks. you can see it. you don't know what that means.

as connor tells you all about his work, you catch joel looking at you, too. there are a few times your eyes meet and something would flash between you. if connor noticed that you were distracted, he didn't show it.

you're a few more drinks in, loose and warm, getting quite cosy, when connor's phone starts to buzz. he glances the name on the caller id and his eyes go wide. "i'm so sorry," he tells you, points at his phone, "a friend of mine's going through a hard time--i need to get this. excuse me a minute?"

"of course!" you tell him, and watch him head outside for some quiet.

it takes less than two minutes before you feel joel sidle up beside you. you know it's him before you even turn to look.

"hi, joel," you say, and he grunts in response.

you're silent for a moment.

"so," you try again, "you wanna tell me why you look like you've been chewing a lemon?"

he frowns. "huh?"

"sour," you supply.

he rolls his eyes.

"don't like seein ya with that boy."

"oh really?" you ask, "and how is that any of your business? has he offended you in some way?"

he shrugs. "just don't like it."

"i'm gonna try again, joel. what's your fuckin problem?"

he huffs out a breath. "a fuckin' kid like that's just tryin' to get his dick wet."

"i should hope so," you scoff, "that's kinda the point."

"seriously?" his voice drops to a lower register, "am i not takin' good enough care of you?"

"no, joel, it's not-"

he cuts you off, "hush, girl-" and despite the quiet of his words, now you notice the slight slur to them. "cos how i remember it," he tells you, "just a day ago you were cryin' my name, ridin' my cock."

you feel your face heat, but he keeps going- "would you let that boy fuck you raw? huh?" he doesn't even give you a chance to respond. "guess you really do take after your momma, huh? mother's a whore and her daughter is too."

"fuck you joel-"

"worst mistake of my fuckin' life getting mixed up with all this shit- with you-"

rage surges through you, shoving aside any embarrassment you felt earlier, and before you can stop yourself, you slap joel across the face.

the impact breaks something that's been building and you both reel back, deflated. you stare at each other for a moment in shock and silence. the place your hand made contact with him starts to bloom blotchy red.

joel rubs his jaw with his palm and winces. "okay, i deserved that," he huffs.

you soften just a little, "you did deserve that."

"i shouldn't be talkin' to ya like that," he groans, chastened, "not your fault. i've had too much to drink, i think. gonna stick with water the rest of the night."

"can we call a truce for tonight?" you ask. connor could be back any moment now and you aren't gonna do any of this in front of him. but as unreasonable as joel's being, you don't wanna hurt him. your anger has all but dissolved and you just want peace.

"sure," he says, "truce."

you smile, half-hearted.

"so, big bachelor party, huh?" you ask, nodding at his group still in the corner.

"hah," he breathes, "yeah. can't believe my little brother's gettin' married."

"which one is he?"

joel points. "over there. the one in th' button-down, currently double fistin' his beer."

you roll your eyes. "no wonder you're so fucked up. must run in the family," you say pointedly, and he knows he's not off the hook for his earlier jibe.

a pause.

"so, who is this guy?" he asks, and he notices you tense. "no, no, i'm not gonna- be more of an asshole."

"good."

"so?"

"his name is connor. we dated back in high school. just seemed like a safe option for a hookup. no strings, any of that."

joel hums. grimaces. "seems a bit young for you, hmm? you seem to like your men old and grey, not bright eyed and bushy tailed."

you snort and roll your eyes, "oh, fuck off."

the moment falls between you.

"look, joel. i don't know what- this is between us." you gesture between the two of you, "like, it's not... sustainable. i know that. you're married to my fuckin' mom, and that's not even touching our age gap."

he sighs. "yeah. i know."

"so, what is it you want? from me? from this?"

he huffs out a breath. "truth is, i don't know," he admits.

"well, you sure as fuck had better figure it out

"he finds out his wife's cheating on him, he fucks her daughter-"

"hey, don' say it like that-"

"-and then gets jealous at the thought of her daughter fucking someone else."

"hey now-"

"am i wrong?"

silence. an awkward cough.

"no," he concedes, "you're not wrong. and i don't know what this is, but i do know what i want."

"and what's that?"

"you."

you stare at one another. he leans towards you, his voice gravelly, barely above a whisper.

"i want you to forget all about that boy. i wanna make you feel good, as much as i can for as long as i can. i wanna make you come on my tongue, and my fingers, and my cock. i wanna hear you scream my name-"

your breath hitches and you can almost taste the whiskey on his warm breath as it tickles your cheek. joel's hand is gripping your arm now and the grip is a comfort.

of course, that's the exact moment connor reappears.

"hey, there, sorry it took so long! really glad i picked up-"

you and joel pull back, and mostly manage to pull off looking casually friendly, but connor misreads it entirely and looks between the two of you.

and then he turns on joel.

"get off her ass, old man," he hisses, "she's an adult, and you're not even her dad! she can stay out if she wants to!"

joel stares at him, wide-eyed, startled as hell, and you do your best to stifle a laugh at the idea of joel being your actual dad. yikes.

"it's okay babe," you reach out to connor, patting his arm to soothe him. "joel and i were just catching up. is your friend okay?"

his eyes dart between you before he tries to catch up. recalibrate.

"uh, yeah-" he says, "yeah he was having a hard time but i think he's doing better now."

another glance to joel. back to you.

"so, uh-" he ventures, tentative, "do you wanna get out of here?"

if it hadn't been for joel turning up at this bar, you'd say yes in a heartbeat.

but you know for a damn fact that isn't gonna happen now.

"ah shit, connor, i'm sorry. i'm feeling a bit off tonight, and i think i should call it an early night."

"oh."

"i'm really sorry, it really was nice to see you."

connor sighs, nods, and then flashes you one last dazzling smile.

"you too," he says, and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "take care of yourself, yeah? and if you ever wanna meet up again, just let me know."

you nod and watch as he walks away.

it's only a moment later that you feel joel's hand snake around your waist and hold you close to him. it's familiar and lovely, the callouses that trace across your skin.

'i think," you tell him, "you should tell your group you're heading out soon."

he looks over at the group and one of them waves at him with a confused expression on his face.

"and then i want you to meet me in the bathroom. single stall at the end of the hallway. don't make me wait more than ten minutes."

joel's mouth goes very dry very quickly, and he nods almost too eagerly. his pupils are blown and you can't get enough of the bead of sweat that rolls from his temple.

"good boy," you tell him and he gulps. turns away from you and back to his group.

you walk towards the bathrooms and catch his gaze and a brief nod as you walk by him.

you feel exhilarated. goosebumps prickle up and down your arms and your stomach flips in an excited swoop. you've inadvertently just swapped roles. you didn't tend to take the lead, at least not in this way. if anything, you tended to beg, please daddy, please fuck me.

after you close the bathroom door behind you, you take a moment to collect yourself. you adjust your hair, smooth out your dress, and wait.

a few minutes pass, and then--a knock at the door. three gentle raps; a rhythm you know so well.

you open the door, grab him by the collar, and pull him in.

he practically squeaks as he's pulled through, but then you're pressing him against the door and he melts under you. he lets out a long, throaty groan as your tongue drags along his jaw, your hands slapping his out of the way as you undo the buttons of his shirt and rake your nails down his chest.

"gonna put your money where your mouth is?" you ask. his brow furrows. "gonna make me feel good, daddy?"

"yes-" he moans and devours your mouth in a kiss. pulls away, breathless, "what do you want, baby, tell me--"

"mouth. and fingers."

"god yes-"

before you have a moment to react, he hikes the skirt of your dress up and backs you up against the sink. "get on up, baby," he says, and you do, hopping up onto the sink with your skirt around your waist and your panties on full display, damp and translucent with your slick. you lean back against the mirror and joel grabs at your thighs, spreading them wider apart.

when he sees how wet you are, he lets out a strangled moan. "jesus christ, honey-" he says, and drags his forefinger along your slit, through your panties, "you're gonna fuckin' kill me."

then he looks at you with those dark, beautiful eyes. searches your face. then drops to his knees.

he starts by mouthing against your panties, just his lips at first, but then he starts to lick and suck at you, sucking your slick from the fabric.

"cute panties," he tells you, and then he's got his fingers hooked on the waistband and pulls them down and off you, helping to lift your hips.

then, when they're off, he wraps them around his hand, buries his nose into his fist and inhales deeply.

"fucking hell, joel-" you breathe, and he turns a little pink, grinning sheepishly. fuckin' joel miller sniffing your panties. how is it that that's the hottest thing you've ever seen?

he doesn't liger too long, though. before you know it, his big hands are grabbing at your thighs again, holding you open. then he's tracing a fingertip along your cunt. prodding in, just a little. pushing your folds open and looking at how messy you already are. sloppily scissoring his fingers, opening you up

"needy little thing, huh?" joel asks and you nod.

leaving his fingers inside, he pulls the hood of your clit back with his thumb and leans in to kitten lick it. it leaves you writhing, but the grip of his other hand on your thigh helps keep you in place. he pulls back, just a little, and spits on your pussy. rubs it in with the thumb, giving you the most lovely pressure, extra slick exactly where you need it.

pumps gently, leaning back in to start licking you in earnest. after a few lazy pumps, he hooks his fingers in you and starts pressing into you with more speed, more urgency.

he pulls back for only a moment and you can see that his moustache and his bottom lip are glistening with your slick. he opens his mouth to praise you, telling you those perfect sounds you're makin' are drivin' me crazy, honey, love how you let daddy know just how good he's makin ya feel, that's it, don't hold back-

and suddenly you're coming.

despite the dullness from the alcohol, and the fact that you're propped up on a sink and just realising your back is smashed up against an uncomfortable knobby faucet--despite all that--waves of pleasure surge through you, hot and bright at your core, flowing across your entire body as you ride his fingers, practically sobbing his name.

your hips rock back up, forcing his fingers deeper into you, and he holds you tight as you ride it through.

for a moment, your vision is replaced with a million little black dots, but then the haze clears and you see joel kneeling in front of you, one hand with stilled fingers still inside you, the other, grasping your hip and holding on gently but firmly.

it takes you longer than you expected to come down from it, but after a few minutes you've gathered yourself.

joel's no longer fingering you, instead rubbing soothing circles to a sensitive bit right at the inside of your thigh. he's telling you lovely things, and you bask in the sensation of his closeness.. you notice his fingers feel funny, but you let out a giggle when you realise they're pruney from being inside you.

he notices what you're looking at and snorts. then thinks for a moment. decides.

"you got any plans tonight?" joel asks you.

"just connor," you laugh, and joel glowers, unimpressed.

"but no, this was much better. and i have no other plans tonight. got something in mind?"

he nods, and suddenly looks almost bashful. "i've got a hotel room. technically part of the bachelor party, but my room's at the opposite end of the hallway from the rest of the party."

you grin.

"i know-" he starts, "i know we hardly ever have a chance to sleep in a bed together. but this could be a chance. if you want?"

for the second time this evening, you grab him by the collar and pull him in for a kiss.

the hotel is really only ten minutes away, but it feels like about five million hours.

you're trying not to look recently fucked, and joel's trying not to let his enormous hard-on look visible through his jeans.

you both sit rigidly in the back seat of the cab. neither of you know if you're being too cautious, or not cautious enough, but you both want to keep whatever you're doing between just the two of you.

despite the distance, though, you can still feel the tug between you. you could cut the tension with a knife. it's only when you arrive at your destination do you feel like you can breathe again. you don't know how, but you know joel feels it too.

there was always the risk that joel's brother could, potentially, run into them in the elevator.

so, all things considered, it was a really, really stupid idea to fool around on the elevator ride to the tenth floor.

"think they have cameras in here?" you ask, and joel snorts.

"if they do, they'll be getting quite a show, huh baby?"

"yes daddy," you agree, and joel groans at your words, closing his eyes, his head tilting back to rest against the cool metal wall behind him. he feels you undo his zipper, unfastens his belt and the button of his jeans. then the wet warmth of your mouth is wrapped against the head of his cock and his groan turns into a shudder of absolute pleasure.

his pants are still up at his hips, cock hanging out impressively. you drag your nails along his thighs all the same, providing enough pressure so he doesn't lose sensation through the fabric.

his hands are tangled up in your hair as you pull his hips towards you, encouraging him to fuck your throat. he's getting frantic, when the elevator suddenly dings!

you break apart instantly and for a moment your stomach flips as you're certain someone else is about to walk into the elevator, but then you realise you've arrived at your floor.

joel composes himself, slicks his sweaty hair back and pulls his pants back up, pretending to ignore the enormous hard-on straining against the fabric.

"this way," he tells you, and you follow him.

any initial reversal of your usual roles becomes a rhythm of give and take. you're barely through the door before joel's grabbing at the hem of your dress and pulling it up and over your shoulders. unhooks your bra and tosses it to the floor.

he stands there and stares at you for a moment, mapping out every curve, every angle, every stretch mark. you're completely bare for him, your panties still in his pocket.

then he's on you, hands gripping your waist, your jaw, stroking over your breasts, fingers dragging over your bellybutton, cupping your pussy-- the sensation is overwhelming, almost too much. if someone told you he'd grown extra hands, you'd believe them; his touch is all over you.

"you feel so good baby," he tells you as his hands slide down to grab at your ass, "you sweet thing-"

you work at unbuttoning his shirt, shoving it off his arms. you pull off his belt, too, which he never rebuckled. shuck his pants down, drop to your knees.

but then he pulls you back up. "uh-uh," he shakes his head, "get on this bed right now for daddy. i wanna taste you while you taste me."

you scoot back onto the bed and lay down, your head near the pillows. joel walks around the bed and kisses you once more, deeply, and then he yanks off his socks and straddles your face.

"this okay baby?" he asks. his cock is thick and heavy and hanging against your cheek.

"yes, daddy-" you tell him, and move to take a tentative lick of his swollen head.

"good girl," he groans and stretches out. you grab his cock with one hand, gripping onto his hip with the other. you guide his cock in your mouth, relaxing and opening your throat just how you need to for this angle. the salty tang is perfect, and you can feel his body tremble.

then you can feel his breath on your abdomen as he trails kisses down and down and down and then his lips meet yours, his hands grip your ass, and he's pointed his tongue in the most delicious way as it flicks over your clit and then inside you. you're doing your best to stay focused on sucking his cock--you know he hasn't gotten off once yet tonight--but the sensation starts to build and build and build and it's all you can do to at least keep your throat open for him to fuck into as he brings you towards another climax.

he holds onto you as you come, as if any distance would cause you to disintegrate. you ride his tongue, dazed by the sensation, the brush of his beard, the way he's gotten loud and feral as he licks up the slick of your release. your thighs are wet, both from your own arousal and his spit, and as you come back to yourself, you know you need him to fuck you.

"joel-," you say, and he ignores you, continuing to lick at you.

"joel, please-," you beg, "need your cock so bad. need you to fuck me, to fill me up-"

he pulls back, "try again," and then dives in again.

"daddy, please!", you cry, and it comes out almost as a shout.m

"there's my good girl," he tells you, and swings his leg back over you so he's no longer straddling your face. he holds his dick and slaps it a few times on your cheek. "need this cock filling you up?"

"yes."

"better beg for it, baby girl."

you fucking love when he makes you beg, but you hate it too. he walks around the bed and then kneels on the foot of it. hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you towards him.

"need it, daddy. use this pussy, use me, please-" your begging has turned to whining, and joel's eyes are blown black, hard and beautiful as he looks at you.

"fill me up with your cum, take your pleasure from me, daddy, let me be so good for you."

in a single fluid motion, he yanks your knees up onto his shoulders and fucks into you in with a single long thrust.

you scream out, it's so much and so good.

"such a good girl, huh?" he asks you, cupping your jaw as he pounds into you. it's not soft, not languid, not gentle. he sets a brutal pace, his hips stuttering, cock ramming into you again and again and again. "sweet little toy for me to use, aren't you baby? keep that pussy open wide for your daddy, huh? so wet for me, you just wanna make daddy feel good, don'tcha?"

the sensation is too much, his coarse hair grinding against your clit as he fucks so deeply into you, sending sparks flying through you at the thought of it. he presses a palm into your belly, just below your navel, and the pleasure increases beautifully.

you've lost the ability to form coherent sentences, just "yes, yes, yes, so good daddy, so fucking deep, you're so big, such a big fuckin' cock, fuck!"

his moans have turned into strangled grunts, all his focus on getting himself off in you. you adjust your hips just a little and the angle allows him to press in just that little bit deeper.

"you love feeling me in here, don't ya?" he asks, pressing his fingers harder into your belly, pulling a moan from you you weren't expecting. his eyes flicker back to your face and his eyes crinkle, "takin' daddy's cock so nice."

then he moves his fingers back down to play with your clit again.

"gettin' close, baby," he tells you, "but i need just one more from ya. can you do that, pretty girl? come one more time on daddy's dick?"

you whine and writhe but you know you can--it's already building--and you tell him so.

"that's my good girl," he praises, his fingertips slick and teasing as he coaxes another orgasm out of you.

it hits you like a freight train, and suddenly you're spasming around him, sucking his cock almost deeper inside you, exploding with waves and waves of pleasure. you scream, and he lets out a strangled cry before he spills inside you.

it takes a few minutes before either of you move again. he pulls himself out gingerly, and you wince at the lack of fullness.

"took it so nice, baby," he tells you, and cupping a soothing hand over your pussy, being careful to avoid your clit or anything too sensitive. he pulls his hand away and looks at the mess on it, your come mixed together and dripping out of you. "so good for me."

then he kisses you, gentle, sweet and deep.

he runs a shower for the both of you and scrubs you both clean. it's possibly the most tender moment you've had with him, as he tucks a wet lock of your hair back, kissing you again as his softened cock presses against you and you let yourself savour the sensation of your bodies inhabiting the same space.

joel sorts through the linens and changes the sheets before you go to bed. it's unnecessary and oddly thoughtful, something you didn't really expect.

he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as you snuggle in together. you can feel your eyelids growing heavy, but joel brings you back to him before you can drift off properly.

"you asked what this is between us. what i wanted."

you stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

"i-" he falters, "i still don't know. but i know that i care for you."

"joel-"

"and i know there's no place i'd rather be right now."

you let that sit for a moment. then turn and kiss him.

"go to sleep, joel."

"okay, pretty lady."

he pulls you close and you drift off in his arms.

[videovamptramp]

the great war pt 1

natasha romanoff x fem reader

warnings: if you count flirting as cheating then nats a cheater 🤡, angst, breakups, idk why i can never write fluffy shit…, kinda mean nat?, natasha’s a bad girlfriend but she means well.

(part 2 will be uploaded on saturday or sunday morning depending on where u live! i already have it written, just need to revise and edit 😊)

//

natasha knows treating you the way she has isn’t enough. she knows she’s doing almost everything wrong in the relationship. she doesn’t understand intimacy too well (if not at all), she barely grasps the concept of monogamy (it doesn’t help that she flirts with almost every woman she meets), and she doesn’t understand you at all. sometimes, you feel like she doesn’t even try. above all of that, natasha has never even told you that she loves you. it’s been two and a half years, and she’s never said it. some days, natasha racks her brain trying to figure out why you haven’t left yet.

natasha loves you. she knows this, though she doesn’t know if you do. she wonders if you know just how much she loves you; how she often craves those gentle touches of yours that only you can give her. you read her so well, she never even has to ask, you just know. whenever she’s had a bad day or a tough mission, you somehow know. whenever she wakes up craving pancakes, there you are making pancakes without her even saying anything about it. it’s funny, wanda maximoff is the mind reader, but you seem to be the only one who can truly read natasha romanoff.

though, tonight— tonight you aren’t too sure about what natasha’s doing, or what she wants. you’re currently at the bar with kate and yelena, while watching natasha flirt with maria hill right in front of your face. you’ve had to sit through not one, but two sexy dances. watching your girlfriend let her work partner grind all over her isn’t actually how you imagined the night going. the truth was you didn’t even want to come out tonight, but you did for her. she asked you to come out with her, and now you’re sitting at the bar watching her practically undress maria with her eyes.

you chug the rest of what’s in your drink, and turn your attention back to yelena and kate. “i think i’m gonna head home. i’m not feeling too well.” you half lie, and kate’s face falls. “what?! but you’ve only been here for an hour! come on, stay! don’t let natasha ruin your night.” kate tries, and yelena smirks. “you know, you and i can always dance and make her jealous.” yelena offers, and you giggle sadly. “thanks lena, but that’s not what i do... truthfully, i don’t even care anymore. if she wants to flirt or hookup with hill tonight, that’s fine.” you sound exhausted, and this causes both of your friends expressions to morph into looks of concern. “i’m tired...” you trail off, and you stop yourself to keep your voice from breaking.

... i’m tired of trying to be what she wants. i’m tired of not being enough.

you clear your throat, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a twenty dollar bill for your now finished drinks. “at least let me drive you home!” kate tries, and you shake your head. “no, you stay. have fun! i’ll get a cab.” you assure her, and she looks like she wants to protest but you quickly gather your things and stand up, adjusting your dress. “if nat notices i’m gone, which i doubt she will, tell her i went home.” you request, and yelena only nods as you walk away. you turn your head and catch a glimpse of maria whispering something in natasha’s ear. whatever it is it makes natasha grin in a way you haven’t been able to in months.

your heart feels like it’s being squeezed in your chest, but you manage to pry your eyes off of them, the image fully engraved into your mind as you walk out of the club.

“should we be worried? about her? like i know natasha’s your sister and all, but she’s cheating right in front of our eyes.” kate points out as she sips her fruity drink. yelena looks over at natasha who’s still talking to maria, seemingly unaware that you had even left. yelena shakes her head, “natasha? she’s always like this. she pushes and pushes until she pushes the person she loves to snap or leave. you can call it what you want, but i call it self sabotage.” yelena blurts out her retort, and kate shakes her head. “but y/n loves her, yel. i’m really concerned, because she’s willing to let natasha cheat on her. who does that?” kate asks and yelena sighs, reaching for another shot.

“someone who’s tired. she’s probably... how do you say... mentally gone already? yeah, that’s it. she probably doesn’t care anymore about what natasha does.” yelena says, and kate’s face changes as she notices natasha somehow is now behind yelena, and can hear everything the blonde is saying. “i mean, would you? she’s given maria hill more attention in the last hour and a half than she has given y/n all month.” yelena adds, “i wouldn’t be surprised if natasha gets home one day and she’s gone.” yelana continues and kate shakes her head, flashing yelena a look of panic.

“what? do i have something on my face?” yelena asks, and natasha clears her throat from behind the blonde. yelena turns around, and is seemingly unfazed by her sisters sudden presence. “well if it isn’t the woman of the hour! how is your night fling going, сестра (sister)?” yelena asks with a drunk smile on her face, causing natasha to scoff. “fling? and do i wanna know what you were just talking about? or why?” natasha asks, and yelena chortles sardonically. “yes, your fling. your shield partner who you’ve been dry humping all night in front of your girlfriend.” yelena answers and kate sips her drink awkwardly, trying to avoid natasha’s harsh gaze.

“you know what yelena? what do you know about my girlfriend?” natasha asks bitterly, knowing too well about yelena’s not so little crush on you. yelena rolls her eyes, “apparently more than you. y/n has been gone for almost half an hour now, and you haven’t even noticed. i may not have experience in relationships, but i know you’re not supposed to hurt her all the time.” yelena states, and natasha’s fists ball up. “i hurt her all the time?? is that what she tells you?” natasha asks and yelena huffs. “obviously not, natalia! you know she practically worships the ground you walk on! you know what i think? i think when you know someone loves you, you never think twice about them again.” yelena spits harshly, and natasha’s hard expression falters at the words.

“people like you truly don’t know what they have until it’s gone. and when she realizes she deserves better than catching a cab on her own in the middle of november— better than watching you give someone else attention while you’ve barely spared her a single glance since you’ve been back from your mission— she’ll be fine. she’ll find better. but you won’t find someone who loves you that much again, and you know it.” yelena says through gritted teeth, and natasha is staring into yelena’s eyes as if she could see right into her soul.

kate was positive someone was going to get murdered tonight, and it was definitely going to be yelena. until natasha shifts from one foot to the other, and sighs, “where’d she go?” natasha demands, and yelena chuckles, “oh now you care?” the blonde asks, and kate puts her hand on yelena’s shoulder. “she went back home.” kate cuts in, and natasha only nods. she avoids yelena’s gaze before talking again, “i do love her.” natasha starts, and yelena rolls her eyes, turning her head to the side in order to gaze away from natasha.

“you’re both the only two people i love unconditionally in this world.” natasha adds and yelena seems to soften only a bit at the words. “you have a funny way of showing it, сестра (sister).” yelena murmurs, and natasha sighs as she looks at kate, silently apologizing like a scorned puppy. “she’ll forgive you. she always does.” kate tries to reassure the redhead but this only makes her feel even more guilty. natasha nods, but says nothing else. “you better gravel.” yelena blurts out, snickering as natasha walks away.

the entire way back to your guys shared apartment, natasha thinks about you. the way she’s treated you. yelena’s words ring through her head, and she can’t help but grimace she thinks about them.

“you know what i think? i think when you know someone loves you, you never think twice about them again.”

that couldn’t be further from the truth. yet, yelena’s words still hurt. what if you think the same way as the blonde?

“i wouldn’t be surprised if natasha gets home one day and she’s gone.”

yelena’s words hold heavy weight and meaning, and they manage to make natasha’s blood run cold. she doesn’t want to think about you leaving, but she’d be lying if she said she never does. every day she thinks about how much better you deserve, and how wonderful you are. she thinks about all the little things you do for her, like purchasing her favorite brand of hot cocoa from the grocery store. the way you always leave sticky notes on the mirror, telling her you love her. she notices every little thing you do for her. from the way you organize her drawers, to the way you cook dinner based on the foods she prefers.

when she gets home there’s a chilling, deafening silence in the apartment. there wasn’t a single sound other than the sirens and noises coming from the busy streets of new york. “detka?” natasha calls out, as she shuts the door behind her. when she walks in, she sees your sweater from tonight carelessly thrown on the back of the couch. the redhead walks further into your shared apartment, and as she approaches her bedroom, her heart sinks.

you’re not here.

“y/n?” natasha asks, her voice louder this time. when she’s met by more silence, a wave of panic washes over her. “no— shit, fuck—“ natasha slurs while she curses as she fumbles with the purse in her hands, her slightly shaky hands searching for her phone. something in her chest tightens as she unlocks her phone, the screensaver she has of you eating ice cream would in any other case make her smile. right now it makes the uncomfortable pit in her stomach grow as she starts to sober up while pressing on your contact information.

the phone rings twice before natasha can hear your phone ringing somewhere in the kitchen. natasha rushes over in the direction of the sound, and when she sees your phone on the counter, her heart drops right into her stomach. that little condescending voice in her brain is screaming ‘she left. of course she left you, who wouldn’t leave you after all the shit you’ve pulled?’ along with things like ‘yelena was right.’ ‘you never deserved her anyways.’ ‘you’re just a whore, natalia.’

her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by you casually entering the apartment wearing your pink velvet short pajama set. your hair is in unruly curls, and you nearly stop in your tracks at the sight of your girlfriend standing in the middle of the apartment with an inscrutable expression on her face. “you’re home?” you ask uncertainly, yet your voice and face don’t indicate any signs of anger. in fact, you sort of look confused. it’s hard for natasha to swallow as her hands tremble and she lets out a breath of slight relief as she realizes you’re back. “what’s wrong?” you question after not getting an answer from your gaping girlfriend.

“i— i got home and you weren’t here... where— where’d you go?” natasha asks, swallowing past the lump in her throat. her fists are opening and closing, and she’s standing robotically across the room. you step closer to her subconsciously, “mrs. rodriguez knocked; mr. whiskers got loose in the building and i was helping her look for him. we found him on top of the vending machine on level three.” you reveal, explaining your short absence to the ex-assassin. “why are you home so early?” you ask nonchalantly, as you walk past natasha, towards the counter where your phone is.

“you left early. why’d you leave?” natasha asks, ignoring your question, and you notice the way her voice breaks every so slightly. you furrow your brows, “i— i was tired, and i didn’t want to ruin your night... i told yelena and kate to let you know.” you retort, and natasha folds her arms. “you should have told me.” she states, and you raise a brow. “and interrupt whatever the hell was going on between you and maria? no thanks, i was already humiliated enough.” you murmur, and natasha tenses up.

“there’s nothing going on between me and agent hill.” she says seriously, and you roll your eyes. “does she know that? because she was blushing at everything you were saying tonight.” you respond smartly, and natasha scoffs, her crossed arms tightening over her chest. “i didn’t do anything tonight that i don’t usually do when i go out.” she points out, and you sigh, pushing your hair behind your ears. you look at natasha, and she can see on your face how exhausted you are. “yeah, i know.” you say under your breath, “that’s the problem.” you add as you go to leave and natasha moves with you, blocking your way to the bedroom.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” she asks a bit demandingly. you shake your head, “it doesn’t mean a thing to you, i know that.” you respond, your tone lacking it’s usual softness. natasha pauses, and you sigh. “look, i’m really tired, okay? i can’t do this whole fight just to make up thing tonight. i’m going to bed.” you declare, and natasha blinks a few times as you manage to make your way past her and towards the bedroom.

“you’re tired... tired of me?” natasha asks, her voice different than it usually is. this causes you to stop and turn back to look at her. “i’d never get tired of you. ever.��� you affirm certainly, but your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy natasha. your shoulders slouch a bit, “i’m tired of the way you make me feel, nat.” you admit, your tone low, and your eyes on the floor. “i’m tired of laying awake at night while you’re out flirting and doing who knows what with people i have to face day to day, and they all wonder the same thing i do. i know it.” your voice cracks as you swallow thickly in order to keep your voice clear. “and what’s that? what are they all wondering?” she asks in a manner you’ve never heard before. your eyes meet hers, and for the first time she can see just how hurt you are.

“if i’m even enough for you. or why you’re even with me in the first place.” you whisper, looking away as your eyes begin to water. the way your bottom lip begins to quiver, and the way your eyes are begging for an answer makes natasha’s heart shatter. “detka...” natasha trails off, her voice faint and quiet. you shake your head, trying to be strong as your teary orbs meet hers. “you know you don’t have to pretend to love me, or settle for me... right? i— i’m a big girl, natasha, i can handle the truth. i think... i think i deserve the truth.” your voice trembles, but you keep your gaze locked on natasha despite the tears in your eyes and you’re trying to blink them away rapidly, causing each tear to fall one by one; streaming down your cheeks to your jaw.

the titian-haired woman stares at you for a long moment, her eyes now glossy and full of anguish. the flicker of emotions in those forest-green orbs does nothing to ease your fears and anxieties that are creeping up on you. tonight’s the night, you think, the night she finally admits you’re not enough for her. you never will be. “pretending to love you? is that what you think i’m doing?” natasha inquires in pure disbelief. “you think i don’t really love you? you think i settled for you??” natasha asks, sounding more upset than you’ve ever heard her. you don’t know what comes over you, but the dam that’s been poorly put together, finally bursts.

“not just me, natasha… everyone thinks that. and tonight— god, tonight you were just showing me how you really feel and i need to stop ignoring it.” you breathe out, the end of your palms digging into your eyelids, as you try your absolute hardest to ignore the urgent need to cry. natasha shakes her head, “that’s not true! i love you more than i love anything! you know that!” natasha raises her voice, and you stare at her with a pained expression. “i don’t. not anymore, and especially not after everything you’ve done.” you respond in a monotone.

natasha stares at you, trying to figure out your next move, but for the first time since she’s met you, she can’t. “maybe... maybe you should just go. go back to the club... back to maria. i’m sure she’ll be more than happy to let you stay at her place... just till i can find a place of my own—“ you begin to ramble, and natasha’s eyes widen. “no!” she shouts, causing you to nearly flinch. “no, please— please don’t. please... don’t make me go.” natasha begs, her voice cracking and you can’t help but flash her a heartbroken expression.

“what else can i do, natasha? i’m not going to compete with her. i can’t... not when she’s obviously the better choice for you.” you hug your arms around yourself, turning away from natasha in order to hide the insecurity written all over your face. “the better choice?” natasha asks unrecognizably, and you turn to face her; the look on your face shatters her. “please don’t make me say it.” you beg, you’re heartbroken enough. “you’re going to have to, because i don’t understand. on what planet is maria hill a better choice than you?” natasha asks, and your fingernails dig into your upper arms.

“just... just leave me alone for the rest of the night. please.” you plead, and she takes a step closer to you, causing you to instinctively take a few steps back. “not tonight.” you add in a strained tone, natasha swears the floor might swallow her whole, and she desperately wants you to hold her. but the way you looked at her— you look absolutely disappointed in her. it makes her realize yelena had more of a point than she anticipated. you turn away, facing your bedroom, and you’re ready for this night to end already. you’re exhausted and all you wanted was to watch movies and cuddle tonight. instead you got this. again.

“i’m sorry.” natasha croaks out, and you close your eyes tightly, clenching your jaw. “me too.” you manage to voice out as you walk into the room, shutting the door behind you. the sound of the lock makes natasha’s heart fall further into that pit that only seems to be growing.

natasha’s legs feel like jelly as she shuffles to the bedroom door. her nose practically touches the cold wood, “i’m sorry.” natasha repeats through the door, “i’ve been a shitty girlfriend. i haven’t treated you the way you deserve, and i know that. i don’t mean to be this way...” her tone is broken and frail, and you stare at the door with tears falling out of your eyes. “the truth is, i don’t know why i do a lot of things. i was trained for everything...” natasha trails off, her voice getting caught somewhere in her windpipe. she swallows past the lump in her throat, “... but i wasn’t trained to keep a good thing. i’ve never had a good thing like this, and when you say you’re not enough for me, that’s just not true. i’m not enough for you.” natasha doesn’t realize she’s crying until she can taste the bitter salt on her lips, falling off her jaw and down to her collarbone.

her forehead is touching the door, and she lets out a ragged breath, squeezing her eyes shut. you don’t say anything, and god, she‘s terrified that she fucked this up beyond repair. then, she hears the door click, and she stands up straight, sniffling as you open the door. you peak through, your eyes full of tears, and they only multiply when you see her red and puffy eyes. she’s staring at you like a lost puppy and you reach for her, immediately seeking her comfort. natasha wraps her muscular arms around the back of your neck, pulling you flush against her. you both say nothing as she holds you in her arms, crying simultaneously. natasha’s arms are wrapped around your neck and she breathes you in. she never wants to let you go.

a few minutes of silence tick by, “i can’t do this anymore, nat…” you whisper, and the words make her heart fall deeper into that blackhole. there’s tears falling out of your eyes and you sniffle as you pull away from the taller woman. “i c-can’t keep doing this. i’m… i’m gonna stay at lizzie’s for awhile.” your voice cracks, and natasha’s eyes widen, she shakes her head quickly, “no— detka please. i can fix this. please, just give me a chance to fix it.” she begs, and you look down, the salty tears streaming down your cheeks. “no nat. i— i need time to think… i don’t want to feel this way anymore.” you express, your hand on your chest as if she’d literally taken a knife and stabbed you through the heart. natasha feels an enormous amount of guilt and regret as she realizes just how badly her actions have affected you.

“baby please… i’m sorry. i don’t want you to leave.” her voice cracks, and her mascara is running. she looks heartbroken, but so do you. it took her this long to realize you’ve been feeling this way, and it was all because of her foolish actions. “you should’ve thought about that before… you really hurt me, nat.” you try to sound strong, but the way you’re crying makes you feel weak. you turn around and make your way into your bedroom, ready to gather a bag of your things then call your sister to come and get you. natasha’s stuck in place as she watches you move around the bedroom, packing a duffel bag. her hearts pounding in her ears, she can’t move or say anything as you talk on the phone with your sister and she agrees to pick you up.

her body doesn’t feel like her own as you throw on a pair of jeans and your own hoodie; it becomes too real as you put your shoes on. she feels like a robot, standing in the middle of her bedroom. you give her one last look before throwing your bag over your shoulder and leaving; you don’t even realize you take natasha’s heart with you when you leave. after the door slams, the silence engulfs her and she can physically feel her heart break in two. what the hell did she do?

[confusedraven1]

i absolutely love that jim is the one to keep the heart of stede’s crew alive while ed did everything he could to destroy it.

one of the first comments ed makes to stede’s crew in season 1 is “everyone’s covered in rope!” so what does jim do? literally covers themself in rope, to remind ed that, as long as they’re alive, that hope and love isn’t going anywhere.

not only that, but, in the bible, rope is a symbolism for trust and security. jim became a secure place for the crew to tie themselves to while just trying to stay alive.

of course, i then had to look into why they have a fishing net around their shoulders as well, and found The Fishing Net Parable from the Book of Matthew (13:47-52):

"Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away.”

“This is how it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

jim amputates izzy’s leg, despite having never done it before. they quite literally separate him from the rotten bits to save his life.

jim says, “he was your friend.” they separate ed from who he was before from who he’s allowed himself to become, not to punish him, but to remind him of the consequences of his actions.

jim tells izzy point blank, “you’re in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard.” they aren’t trying to break them up; they’re just bringing to light whats true so things can (hopefully) get better.

jim shows archie that, just because pirating is normally done a certain way, doesn’t mean it has to—they separate archie from the toxic belief that “that’s just how things are, it’s just life,” and “why save him if he’s a dick?”

jim tries to separate the idea from the crew that ed is fine, because they immediately recognize that things are about to get much worse: “so, do we think he’s better?” “FUCK no!”

jim immediately says, “wasn’t the wedding thing a bit over the line?” they know they’re all pirates and have questionable morals anyway, but knows it was fucked up of them to massacre a wedding, an event that’s supposed to be joyful and full of life and beginnings, not death and destruction. they’re, again, dividing up the way things are vs. how they could (and should) be.

ed tries to pin them all dying on jim cause they wouldn’t kill archie, but they bite back with, “you would’ve done it anyway!” they know exactly where the lies are, and separates them from the truth, and ed can’t deny it.

jim separates themself (and olu) from the bounds of monogamy through their honesty. olu is still their best friend and lover and family even though they found and did things with someone else.

jim holds out their hand for olu to take when they’re escaping the red flag. olu’s interest in zheng yi sao isn’t bad and jim’s not trying to separate them, but is trying to keep together the things that are good: their family.

(later addition, edit) jim is also the one that “kills” ed. they’re the one to make that final choice, to say, “it’s you or us.” jim’s actions and choices entire first two episodes led them to that moment, like it was the “final judgment” of blackbeard.

jim is the rope and net of the crew. they’re trust and security and honesty, everything that stede was trying to get the crew to understand from day 1, everything stede is always trying to embody (and i dare say is starting to succeed at).

[voxmilia]

something something sandra lynn's initial insistence on monogamy, even with a polyam partner

something something buddy dawn's art being very clearly modeled after a mormon missionary

something something younger bobby and pam dawn taking advantage of a starry eyed impulsive adventurer, literally a high school dropout, barely an adult, and convincing her to try not polyamory but stereotypical mormon polygamy

something something pam finding out she's pregnant with buddy's dad (or mom, presumably dad bc family name) with one of buddy's uncles or aunts*, and her and bobby twisting the situation to smear sandra lynn's name and blacklist her

*edited bc I realized timeline wise that would not make sense for them to have a kid whose kid would then be sandra lynn's kid's age but I feel like there should be SOME internal impetus between the dawns to break things off

[cluz1babe]

"Open My Eyes..." Chapter Seven

11.2K Words

Thank you for reading!

If you didn’t already know, Chapter Seven will have House of the Dragon season 2+ spoilers)

PLOT

You were a Belaerys, with the Blood of Old Valyria in your veins, future Queen of Sothoryos. Up until eight years before the Dance of Dragons, everyone thought the Belaerys family was gone after the Doom. You were well-respected by everyone except most of the greens. Despite that, you were officially given a seat on the new High Council. The Hand, Otto Hightower, was trying to bring more countries to their aid, but his excuse was to bring peace between countries. Planning to wed you to Daeron, the Small Council of the Greens are shocked when Aemond refuses to offer you Daeron in order to take you for himself.

TAKES PLACE BETWEEN 129-133+ AC (a mix of show & book timeline & canon, plus my own)

Beta Read and co-written by my husband.  Representations of reader are the lightest and darkest skin colours available. Disclaimer : ASOIAF Wiki is my best friend and we got a little too close on this project (copy-paste about specific parts of the war, sometimes with edits). We still have the Epilogue.

Very limited use of ‘Y/N’.

From what I can remember about how to pronounce Nahuatl, you pronounce ‘X’ as ‘SH’, and pronounce every letter except ‘H’.

SERIES MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNINGS (full story) : Talk of Abortion, Emotionally Abusive Relationships (Aegon / Criston / Otto x Everyone), Alcohol, Blood, Blowjob, Branding, Bullying, Childbirth, Mentions of Rape (no rape of reader), Death, Drugs, Fire, Hallucinations, Incest, Marriage, Misogyny, Pregnancy, Profanity, Sexism, Slut Shaming, Smut, Violence, War, P in V, Sex, Fingering, No Cheating, MDNI, 18+ , ENM (Ethical Non-Monogamy), Slight Breeding Kink, Dub-Con (in the Aegon Bonus Chapter) if you squint

Archive of Our Own

You were restless since the leaders from Essos had quite literally come to the table of the High Council. Your unease didn’t escape Aemond’s notice. When he asked, you told him that you had received word that there was tension between Zugrya and Bruedal and both Offia and Wewhyae were stuck in the middle. More than that, The Summer Islands and Naath needed protection and here you were, feeling useless, on a council with slavers, and it was all making you question your place in things.

“Mm. Tell me what I can do.”

“I honestly don’t know what to do.”

“You will.” He kissed your forehead and slightly changed the subject. “Your country refuses slavery, but your brother and father wanted you on the council?”

“We trade with anyone unless they practice slavery. That makes a lot of Essos off limits. The problem is that my father joined the rest of the world before we were ready. Some of our current alliances are already on shaky ground because they are afraid that, by traveling the world in search of trade and dragons, it leaves us open to attack. It invites conflict, especially between the islands. They believe we survived by being isolated and avoiding slavers.”

“Why doesn’t your father feel that way?”

“We Can, We Will, We Did”

“Your house words?”

You nodded. “If our family doesn’t live by our words, what are we? We can find dragons, even wild ones. We can learn, and create alliances & peace, but we can’t do it all alone. If Essos decides to invade Sothoryos…” You trailed off, trying not to think of the worst things. “We have dragons, but they have scorpions. I’ve been to Naath and the Summer Islands and came back with an alliance, but shortly after I left, Naath was raided again.”

“What happened?”

“We were able to get some of the people back.” You sighed, “But, while some of my best warriors were retrieving them, a different place was invaded. Every moment that I’m away from my country, leaves them open to attack.”

“Are you going to fight them all yourself?” You raised your brows at him, clearly not realizing what you had said. “You told me everyone can fight.”

“Almost everyone.”

“Do you protect them all by yourself?”

You smiled. Of course not.

“It seems to me, that you put too much pressure on yourself.” He kissed your cheek and lingered there. “You’re not to blame for what happened in Naath any more than you’re responsible for the Doom.” He squeezed your hand a bit, “We’ll figure something out.”

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

You had told Aemond about Luke being alive, but only Arrax’s wing had been found. He breathed a sigh of relief that he was not the Kinslayer that they were calling him, but he knew that it didn’t matter. It was his title now. And it didn’t matter that Luke was alive. He had chased Lucerys down that day above Shipbreaker Bay. Yes, to scare him and bully him, but Aemond had not intended to kill him. Even though Luke was alive, the war had been set in motion with the attempted murder of Jaehaerys, and all of the evidence that it was Daemon’s doing. They were unsuccessful with the murder, because the dogs you gave as gifts, Mors and Lyonel, defended them all. This made the Greens trust you even more, which put you on good terms with them, but was it enough?

Aemond had taken his bath and he was still in the tub. He thought about everything that had happened since his father died. It wasn’t until the water was chilly that he finally got out and dried himself off. He walked into his chamber and you were right where he left you, studying dragon breeding some more. You were determined to memorize the book as well as Aemond had, even if you had to read it ten times.

He watched as you turned the page, picked up your wine goblet, and took a sip. It was peaceful moments like this that he hated lately. Not because of you, but because he had failed you. He had well and truly fucked up. Lucerys’s near-death still set things in motion that made Aemond feel guilt like none he ever had before. It was his fault Luke almost died. His fault that a male dragon was dead — a huge loss to your cause. His fault that Helaena’s three children were put in danger, furthering an insatiable need to see blood spilled in the name of the greens and Aegon II. There was a long time where Aemond wondered what to do, then he finally spoke after what seemed like forever. “I’ve changed my mind.” He almost whispered it.

You sat down your goblet. “Changed your mind?” 

“I want to serve the Blacks.”

You shook your head. “You are a Green Prince, Aemond.”

“I support your claim to your throne. I have to support my sister’s.” 

As usual, you looked at him like he was mad. After the initial shock, you told him what you thought of his idea. “That’s treason, Aemond. Not even the King’s brother is safe from what happens to traitors.”

“I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. More than Vhagar.”

You raised your brows at him.

“Don’t tell her I told you that, or she will surely burn us both alive.”

His comment made you laugh.

“And I can’t choose to be with you, the future Queen of Sothoryos, who is not even the first-born, let alone male, and not support my sister’s claim to the throne.” He kneeled down in front of you and held your hands. “I am so sorry for what I’ve done.”

You were confused by his words. “What have you done?”

“Arrax.”

You kissed his forehead. “It was an accident, my love.”

“I shouldn’t have chased them.”

You kissed his lips the second time. “I forgive you.” You needed to calm his mind and it worked. He laid his head on your shoulder and looked up at you in admiration. You saying you forgave him took a huge weight off of his shoulders. He couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have found you.

“I will think of a reason to leave and convince my brother to allow it. Then you and I can leave, help my sister claim her throne, and I can take you home.”

There was a pang in your chest at the mention of your country. “Home?”

He nodded. He knew you were homesick and wanted to take you there, as well as see it for himself — the place you loved so much. “But first, I need to convince my brother that it’s a good idea that Daeron marry Floris or one of the other Baratheon girls.” He softly pushed your robe off of your shoulder and kissed you again. You had taken a bath in your own chamber and it had practically become custom for him to defile you afterward, especially when you smelled of bath oils. In addition to that, without your clothes, Aemond could see your growing belly. And, though he did not wish to keep you in a constant state of being pregnant, the thought turned him on, nonetheless. 

He started kissing your shoulder and down your swollen breasts. He eagerly sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hardening bud while you stroked his head. He wasn’t rough with you, but he wasn’t gentle either, he was following your lead. He usually did, and that how he knew you liked it in every way : soft, hard, somewhere in between. At that moment, it was somewhere in between rough and gentle. He put your ankles on his shoulders and he entered you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

You both laid there in silence as you slowly stroked Aemond’s hair and back. Eventually, you heard his breathing even out and knew he had finally fallen to sleep.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

You and Helaena were watching the children and practicing embroidery while Aemond tried to convince the small council to allow him to marry you. 

Criston sighed, “No.”

Aemond tilted his head at the only father figure he truly had. He thought he could trust Cole. “No?”

“You’re now engaged to Floris Baratheon. You can’t take more than one wife.”

Aegon scoffed, “Why not? That’s what they do where she’s from.”

Criston seethed, turning to Aemond, “Are you so in love with your heathen temptress that you would commit polygamy?” 

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He avoided looking at his mother. “I know what you and my mother do. I put it in the back of my mind for too long and I will not stand here and listen to hypocrisy fall out of your mouth.”

“You would take up her traditions and disregard your responsibilities here?“ Alicent asked him. Surprisingly, there was no sign Aegon had heard about what his mother was up to.

“Have you forgotten?” Aemond asked his mother. “Targaryens also used to multiple marriages at once. I never asked her if she was open to marrying Daeron because I love her. Father knew and that’s why he betrothed us. He had already given his blessing, but now you want to play me like some piece in a game. I never agreed to marry Floris, but you sent me there with a scroll offering me in marriage.”

“That’s true, but Aemond, what about her age?” Alicent begged, “Producing heirs doesn’t happen overnight and her change will be upon her before you know it. Are you willing to risk that? Floris is younger than you are and the Belaerys Princess is now three and twenty.”

“Her mother’s side easily produces heirs well into their 40s. If you want evidence, I’ll tell you all of their names and information about some of them.”

Criston practically rolled his eyes, “Be that as it may, you are now officially promised in marriage to the Baratheon girl.”

“Not anymore.” Larys, now master of whispers and still guilty of trying to kill Jaehaerys, interrupted. He pulled out an official looking scroll and read it, “‘After much thought on the matter and a proposal offered by the Blacks to marry their youngest prince, Viserys to Borros Baratheon’s first granddaughter’.” 

“We all know what that means.” Aegon laughed. “‘After the ‘untimely death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon’, the Baratheons have decided to ‘disaffiliate themselves with the Greens’.”

Aemond smirked at Criston.

Cole looked at Aemond with anger, “It’s your fault that boy is dead and our only chance at peace has ended. You only lost one eye, how could you be so blind? You will not marry that woman. She was supposed to marry Daeron. He’s the third son, so he will be perfect for securing that enormous country and all of their resources. But she is not appropriate for you.”

Aemond walked away from the table, trying not to show his true feelings as he had always managed, but it was too much this time. He knew for sure now that they weren’t just looking for allies, they were looking for weaknesses and ways to ‘secure the country and all of their resources’, just as you had told him. Aemond knew what that really meant. His father figure was going to betray the woman he loved as soon as he could. “This is coming from a place of hate and malice. You all seethe with spleen like a suppurating ulcer.” He whipped around and stared at Criston and his mother. “I have given everything to this family, and I have asked for nothing in return!“ He turned his attention to Aegon, “You owe me, brother.” 

Aegon was in his cups and set against the Belaerys family just as much as Cristin and Alicent, though he pretended otherwise. Aemond couldn’t understand connecting their family to the Belaerys family at all if they were going to be so prejudiced. The politics of the situation didn’t matter, as far as he was concerned. “My King, does your prince not deserve his own happiness? A family? Something that he chose for himself? Has the Princess not proven herself loyal? Would joining your kingdom with Sothoryos, a people no less advanced than our own, not be advantageous, even if it is me she marries?” He looked around the room.

“He’s right, Aegon.” Alicent interjected. She remembered what you did for Helaena both times. “She has proven herself loyal to this family. She defended Queen Helaena after a handmaid said something unkind. She provided the trained guard dogs that kept your children, and wife, alive.”

Aegon’s hard look softened, but only enough to barely relieve the tension. “You’re right, mother. Of course you deserve those things, Aemond, and it would be beneficial to join our kingdoms. It doesn’t matter who she marries. We can use all of the dragons and fighters that we can get.” He exhaled loudly, “If you really wish to wed and breed with this Belaerys whore—” Aemond, who’d been angered by the word, took a step forward, but a guard put himself between them. Aegon laughed, “You may have her.” He let Aemond take in the information and relax, then Aegon went stern, “But if either of you leave us before the war is over, without my orders to do so, you will both be considered traitors to the crown.” Aemond’s eye went wide for a moment. “You may send any children you may have to Sothoryos to keep them out of harm’s way, in case the war comes here. Though you never know how long the war will last.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, but he was finally happy to get blessings from the King, regardless the circumstances. Everything else would have to wait. He bowed, tensely. When he straightened, Aegon sort of waved him off and Aemond turned to leave.

“Aemond.” Aemond stopped as the current king made him do so. “Don’t think you’re getting away with that outburst with no consequences.”

Aemond continued out of the small council room. Once he made it to his quarters, he knocked over one of his tables in anger. His plan to send you back home, where you could wait out the war and he would join you after… It was finished. You would both be forced to fight in this war. You hadn’t agreed to take a side so that you wouldn’t have to fight your brother, who had pledged for Rhaenyra. Aemond would do anything for you, his beloved, even keep your brother alive in battle. He was convinced that he could make it look like an accident if he got caught. Now, he didn’t know what would happen.

At first, you were angry with Aemond for planning to send you away without him by your side, but you quickly forgave him. 

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

The assault on Harrenhal was led by Daemon Targaryen, who conquered Harrenhal for Rhaenyra Targaryen. It marked the opening of hostilities in the Dance of the Dragons.

Prince Daemon Targaryen, suggested Harrenhal as a rallying point for potential supporters in the riverlands. Larys Strong, Lord of Harrenhal, was a supporter of Aegon, so Rhaenyra allowed her husband to command the assault on Harrenhal.

Because Lord Larys Clubfoot served as Aegon II's master of whisperers in King's Landing, his great-uncle the elderly Ser Simon Strong served as Larys's castellan at Harrenhal. Prince Daemon flew on his dragon, Caraxes, to the top of Harrenhal's Kingspyre Tower, where Harren the Black had died. Recalling the burning of Harrenhal by Aegon I Targaryen and Balerion the Black Dread, which had extinguished House Hoare, Simon decided to strike his banners and surrender the great ruined castle to Daemon. Simon and his grandsons were among a dozen hostages taken by Daemon, and the blacks requisitioned the wealth of House Strong. The loss of Harrenhal shocked Aegon II and encouraged the blacks. 

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

There were rumours that you and Aemond had secretly been married for weeks, so you were summoned to the King. 

“Remember what I told you.” Aemond urged. “Whether in secret or in front of the court, never let my brother see that he unsettles you.”

“I’m from Sothoryos. Not much can unsettle me.”

“He will do or say anything to get a rise out of you. He may try to intimidate, taunt, embarrass, or shame you. Maybe all four.”

You gave Aemond a reassuring look. “It will be okay, husband.”

King Aegon II was sitting in his throne, ignoring whatever complaint or well-regard the person in front of him spoke about, as he’d finally realized that it didn’t matter what the smallfolk wanted. He couldn’t give them any resources. Not that he wanted to at this point. The smallfolk had betrayed him once, they would do it again if they could. He didn’t look interested or pleased at all. In fact, he looked the least pleased when he looked in your or Aemond’s direction. He waved off the smallfolk once the current one finished, “Thank you for letting me know. I will take that into account.” He bid you & Aemond come forward. Aegon’s false sincerity toward the smallfolk disappeared as you & Aemond stepped forward.

Aegon sat there staring for so long that it made your skin go cold. “Not three moons ago, we spoke and I told you we would soon discuss when the two of you should be wed. Yet here you are. And I’m told that the Belaerys Princess is already your wife, Aemond.”

“You Grace, may we speak privately?” Aemond’s request was granted with a nod from Aegon and everyone except the guards, The Hand, Alicent, you, Aegon, and Aemond were left in the Great Hall.

The expression on Aegon’s face was full of annoyance and hate.  “We decided on your wedding day, three moons from now, and yet I hear you call each other husband and wife already. Skoros kostos nykeā udir hoskas? (What could inspire such a rumour?)” Aegon gave both of you exactly six seconds before he continued. “Maybe it is because you are with child, Princess?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried not to sound small, but now that you were being confronted, you wished to be back in the privacy of your apartments. For the first time in a long time, you felt as small as they wanted you to feel. All of your previous confidence waned in front of the Hightowers.

“Come, Princess. There’s no point in lying.” Alicent interrupted your thoughts. “You haven’t bled for four moons, and your dresses are tighter around your belly. It’s a difficult condition to hide.” You wish you knew how she knew. “One which will be impossible to hide once you have a screaming babe in your arms. It is of great concern for my family. If everyone knew my son took you to bed before your wedding—“

Aemond grumbled. “We are married.” Everyone looked at Aemond as he spoke and revealed his brand. “The Princess is my wife, by our own ceremony — a Sothoryi ceremony. And she will have my child soon.”

Aegon sat up straight. “So you admit it?”

“I do. I didn’t want my child born a bastard, and I will always be proud of the Princess & our life together.”

Aegon’s nose flared in anger. He looked back and forth between the two of you. Aemond’s declaration brought back some of your confidence and he hated seeing it. At the same time, he knew that he would lose his biggest asset for the war if he upset Aemond. So he conceded through gritted teeth, “In that case, you shall be married in front of the court as soon as possible to make sure. No niece or nephew of mine is going to grow up a bastard. We all know how important it is to look the part. Right, Princess?”

“Yes, your Grace.” You weren’t eager to please him, but you also couldn’t afford to upset him right now, no matter how much veiled animosity remained between you and Aegon. So you ignored his insult against your Sothoryi ceremony.

.................................................................................................

To Aegon, as soon as possible was only a few days. You and Aemond were married in the tradition of the Faith of the Seven, at the sept, in front of the green’s court. The ones who could make it on time. What was strangest to everyone wasn’t the foreign princess. It was that the ill-tempered Beast of the Red Keep wasn't wearing his eye patch, and he was wearing colour. Añil blue & green, and he had even dyed the ends of his hair like yours. It was his way of telling them that this day belonged to the two of you and no one else. After your official ceremony to Aemond, the two of you snuck away to have some alone time before the feast. He fucked you against the wall of your chambers while you were still wearing your wedding dress. Then you quickly rejoined the feast and it was as though nobody noticed you had been gone for the better part of ten minutes while the two of you got your quick tryst in private.

.................................................................................................

During the end of the feast, Aegon stood up. “A toast to the newlyweds. M” everyone cheered. “May they have many years together.” The smile on his face was not friendly. “I’m sorry to interrupt the festivities, but it’s time for the Bedding Ceremony!”

Everyone cheered and music played as you were carried on top of shoulders to get to your shared chambers. Aemond was dragged, too. Both of you being undressed on the way there. Aemomd hated every second of it and Aegon knew he would. This was part of his punishment. A consequence of standing out of line.

.................................................................................................

You made it to your shared chambers and retrieved your ritual paints. That night, you planned to connect with Aemond on every level. You started with the blue paint, for blessing your union. You painted Aemond’s body with your sacred blue paint. You were so skilled with your hands that every light stroke left him wanting more. He wanted to feel your body pressed against his. He wanted to be inside you, as he had expected to be by now, but you were insistent that you make it official by your standards, and he had accepted. The look of concentration on your face made Aemond want to kiss you. Touch you. Have you again and again. The entire process felt like a way to prevent him from having his fun straight away. 

You cut Aemond’s finger and held it over the bowl with various ingredients already inside, dripping blood into it, then doing the same with your own finger. You said something in a language he didn’t recognize while holding the bowl over an open flame. Then you lit it on fire and breathed in the smoke. You handed it to Aemond, “Breathe it in.” 

He did as you told him and quickly felt himself feel off-kilter, so he sat next to you. You both waited for the buzzing in your heads to stop, holding hands and giving gentle kisses. Once you were both clear-headed again, you performed the Soul Ritual. You painted orange on your and Aemond’s bodies. The first one was just a formality, but the last would connect your souls. The two of you would became one. You saw each other’s true nature and past; felt each other’s pain and pleasure. The process worked you both up as you took your time teasing Aemond with your slow strokes and kisses here & there. Once you were finished, you each gave your thanks to any gods listening and you drank wine together, waiting for your paint to dry a little before you could join each other in bed. You weren’t in any hurry. The effects of the ritual would last at least two more hours. However, after ten minutes, you couldn’t wait anymore. You got on the bed and coaxed him over. It didn’t take much before he was on top of you.

You were so wet that you didn’t need him to prepare you much. His fingers easily slid into you to test before his cock entered you. He groaned at your waiting hole and the way you keened at his touch. He couldn’t resist paying you back for the teasing earlier and removed his fingers. He smirked as you whined. He slowly kissed down your neck, to your chest. That was when he felt it. The way his own body was responding to the kisses as if he were kissing his own chest. 

You had been quiet in the beginning, so Aemond encouraged you to be as loud as you want. Now that you were wed, it was no longer bad to be together. He made you orgasm on his tongue, causing him to enjaculate on the sheets. He groaned, partially because of how good it felt and partially because he was disappointed he couldn’t hold off. He looked up at you, totally cunt-drunk off of you. 

Aemond finally got to be inside of you. That second time of the night was slow at first, slowly building to the two of you going at it fast and hard until you both found release. The paint smeared on your bodies and the sheets, leaving behind the orange and blue paint; impressions of your entwined bodies rutting against each other. Something for the servants to deal with the next day.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

BONUS SMUT CHAPTER WITH AEGON

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

Months later.

You were lying in bed sobbing. The pain had barely abated in the previous two hours and the maesters said they were going to attempt to turn the baby. That’s when Aemond came back to join you.

“I understand now why they say women are weak.”

“Why?” He almost looked amused by your statement. 

“Because I can’t control my emotions right now and I can’t stop thinking of home. I don’t know if I’ll ever see it again.”

“You will see it again, I promise.” He held your head in his hands, one hand on each cheek. “You are not weak. You are going to be a queen. It’s just exhaustion from bringing our babe into the world.” He kissed you, then wiped your tears away. “The maester and the midwives all said that it’s normal to feel overwhelmed.” Aemond gently held your hands. “I’m very sorry that I can’t do anything about your homesickness, my love, or the pain.”

“How’s Molca?”

“Irritated, to say the least.”

“She wouldn’t let you ride her?”

Aemond shook his head. “Do you wish to be a widow so soon?” You both laughed at his joke. Then he added, “I think she may lay eggs soon. She’s showing all of the signs. Perhaps she and Caraxes had an encounter that no one knows about.”

……………………………………….. 

You labored a day and a half to bring your first child into the world. Aemond stayed with you almost the entire labour and refused to leave your side, even when the midwives urged him to leave when the baby had a hard time coming out. Alicent even came to check in on you, having given birth four times, she thought she could be of help to you, especially without your mothers who were still in Sothoryos.

Hours after the contractions started, it got more and more intense, causing you to groan and cry. But Aemond was there and his presence was comforting, even when Grand Maester Orwyle and the midwives had to press on your belly in order to push the baby in the right position. You were lucky that it wasn’t too difficult. 

There was a while when you tried to sleep, but the pains only got worse. You started cursing in Loicato when the pain returned.

“I can’t understand you, Princess.” One of the midwives said. “I don’t speak your language.”

“She’s saying… Well, she’s using coarse language.”

The midwife gave a slight smile. “Yes, mothers usually say lots of things when the labour pains start. If you’d rather leave until the baby comes, I’ll take care of—“

“No. I want to stay.”

She curtseyed, “My Prince.” Then she left for a few moments and came back with more rags and sheets.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Aemond held your baby daughter first after the maester. He looked at her with the widest smile on his face and a tear in his eye. “My little princess.” After a moment of reflection and the realization that he was now a father to a beautiful baby girl with wisps of silver hair, he handed her over to you. He kissed your forehead as you took in the sight of her. “What do you want to name her?”

You stroked her head and laughed at the face she made. “Let’s name her… Jaenara Meztli.”

Aemond kneeled next to you. “Princess Jaenara Meztli Belaerys.”

“Targaryen.”

He looked at you, confused.

“She’s a Targaryen. Like her father.”

He took your hand and kissed it. Giving a child a man’s last name was a high honour in your culture.

………………………………………………………………..

It was only a short while after your daughter’s birth that Aemond walked into your shared quarters with dragon keepers following behind him with a smoky brazier. You were nursing Jaenara, as you had refused to let anyone take her from you in the three days since you had given birth. You sat up straighter than usual, not completely understanding what was going on or why strangers were coming into your bedchamber. “Aemond, is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect.” He smiled and motioned for the dragonkeepers to open the brazier, which they did. Inside, was a dragon egg. It was lavender with blue markings.

You gasped, “Aemond—“

“It seems our daughter’s birth triggered something in Molcajete. She’s given us a clutch of eggs.” He took the egg and placed it in Jaenara’s crib, next to your bed. You touched the egg and closed your eyes, concentrating on the energy flowing through the egg. It brought a you chuckled with joy. Not only had Molcajete laid eggs, but you could tell for certain that the one in the crib was alive. Perhaps Aemond was correct and Molca had mated. Your baby would have her own dragon. You opened your eyes and held Aemond’s hand.

He bent over to kiss you, then he pressed his forehead to yours. “Prūmī lanti sēteksi.” (‘Forged in fourteen fires.’) He kissed your baby daughter on the head. “You shall have everything you deserve, Ñuha Prūmia.” (‘My Heart.’)

…………………………………………………….

It was only a few days since you’d given birth and you finally slept. Though you had nightmares of the worst kind about things happening to your daughter. You would wake, feed her, then sleep again, only to have another nightmare. The last one was the worst. Someone was at Jaenara’s crib, hovering. You felt like you couldn’t move your body. You watched as the figure stood up, the silhouette had a crown. The Conquerer’s Crown. When he turned, he was covered in blood— You woke to sounds of Jaenara crying. “‘Nara?” Your voice was hoarse. When you sat up int bed you saw someone bending over her crib.

Aemond was on his way to your bedchamber when he heard you screaming.

“Get him away from my baby! Please! Get him out! Give her to me!”

Aemond ran through the doorway and continued to your post-birthing bed. Seeing how upset you were turned his stomach into knots. “Issa jorrāelagon?” He looked in the direction of the crib and saw the back of the maester as though he were inspecting Jaenara. “It’s okay. The maester is just doing his job.”

“No.” You pointed to the figure now visible behind the maester as he left. There stood Aegon, holding Jaenara. From the moment she was born, 67 hours ago, your chest filled with dread. You loved her more than anything, and that’s why you immediately worried about what her life would be and how you could keep her safe. All of the excitement, even through Aegon’s treatment of you, ended in an instant. Your newborn daughter in your arms, eyes just like yours, light wisps of silver hair - too soon to tell if it would be dark like yours or light like Aemond’s - everything came crashing down. Then you had a nightmare that Aegon had murdered Jaenara. Her crib was sitting on the Iron Throne and Aegon burned her using Sunfyre. His eyes were wild with anger, hatred, and fear.  After that, you refused to sleep, preferring to keep watch over your baby. You had just fallen asleep for probably ten minutes after hours of being awake. That’s when Aegon finally came to visit.

At first, Aemond’s heart skipped a beat. You had told him about your nightmares, but he was assured they would go away once you finally stopped nursing. However, as Aegon made his way to the foot of your bed, Aemond realized his brother would not hurt his daughter. Jaenara started crying and you reached for her, but Aegon turned away, making you whimper. Aegon only smirked at your distress. Aegon and Aemond had a staring match, but when your nipples started leaking, Aegon giggled. “Have you had a taste, yet, brother?” Aemond was obviously confused, so Aegon tilted his head in your direction.

Aemond looked, but he wasn’t amused. Wet patches were appearing on your shift. Aemond held out his hand to his brother. “Give her to me.”

Aegon sighed and looked at his niece, “Your father is such a bore.” Aegon handed her to Aemond who turned her over to you.

Aegon snorted, “You should give your precious daughter to a wet-nurse and ask your husband to alleviate the pain in your breasts. It’s better for all of you.”

Aemond stood in front of his brother as you began nursing baby Jaenara. “You are incredibly lucky that she has barely slept in three days and before that, she was in labour for fifteen hours. She is a new mother. You should be ashamed of yourself. If she were in her right mind—”

“What?” Aegon squared his shoulders. “What would your traitorous wife do, I wonder?”

Aemond mirrored his brother. “What are you talking about?”

Aegon gave a smile and patted Aemond on the arm. “I’m only joking, brother. She has only once ever stepped out of line, and changed my mind through doing so. And with her married to you, Prince Aemond Targaryen, the King’s brother, she secures us the vast country of Sothoryos and every dragon they have. Not to mention everything else she’s done for me.”

You spoke through gritted teeth, “Stop talking about me as though I’m not here.”

Aemond clenched his jaw. “Hmm. And Jaenara, Aegon? What of my daughter?”

“I would never hurt your babe. You’re both much too paranoid. I’ll tell the maester to send milk of the poppy so you can get some rest.”

You clutched Jaenara to your body. “No.”

Aegon only rolled his eyes. “As you wish.” He quietly strutted out of your bedchamber.

Aemond sat next to you in the bed and took your hand. “Maybe he’s right, my love. You need to sleep.”

“No, Aemond, please.”

“It was only a dream. Sweetling, what use are you to her if you’re exhausted?” You hated to admit that he was right, but you squeezed his hand in response. He kissed your temple. “I promise I will watch her every second you rest. I won’t take my eye off of her. I’ll even stay with the wet-nurse while she eats.” 

You shifted your body, unsure. 

“I swear on Vhagar.”

You bit your bottom lip and looked into his eye. You saw nothing but love, adoration, and worry. There was a circle under his eye. Maybe not as bad as yours, but you knew the stress was already getting to him and he was still offering to watch Jaenara while you slept. “When she’s finished.”

“Of course.” 

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

As soon as Jaenara transitioned to a wetnurse and you got your strength back, you took the most amazing bath in preparation for a ritual with the two fertile eggs from the clutch Molca laid. 

One was Jaenara’s and one would be your future child’s. The ritual was to offer thanks and begin the bonding process to your bloodline. It would prevent the eggs from hatching for anyone other than you or your children, unless it was given to someone else by you. You had done similar rituals with Molcajete and even Gaelithox, to deepen your bond with them. It was also how you communicated when a battle was coming. 

Though it was usually done in private, Aemond was allowed to watch so he could learn it for himself.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

As the preceding fall of Harrenhal had been bloodless, the Battle of the Burning Mill was the first true battle in the civil war between opposing armies in the field.

House Blackwood declared for Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen when war broke out, while House Bracken supported her half-brother, King Aegon II Targaryen. Lord Samwell Blackwood sent raiders into Bracken lands, causing Ser Amos Bracken to march on Blackwood territory in response. The Blackwoods surprised the Brackens while they were camped by a mill near the Red Fork.

Amos slew Lord Blackwood in single combat during the ensuing battle. The Bracken knight was himself slain by a weirwood arrow said to have been fired by Samwell's sister, Alysanne. The mill was put to the torch during the hours of fighting. Ser Raylon Rivers eventually led the Bracken survivors in retreat to Stone Hedge, but the Bracken castle had been taken in the meantime by Prince Daemon Targaryen.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

Mere months after the birth of your first daughter, you conceived your second daughter, Nymeria. Right around the time of the Taking of Stone Hedge. It wasn’t planned, but you preferred it over fighting with the enemy.

You were walking into your chamber, anticipating a pleasant evening later on, after a sundown ride on Molca. You were never allowed to go far from King’s Landing, but you made the best of the situation.

You were having a day without the responsibility of looking after Jaenara for an evening. You watched Aemond train for a while, as he did almost daily, then you retired to your apartments. You thought about how he started with unarmed combat, then switched to the blade. You knew how his fingers felt and could imagine the grip he used with the sword. The calluses he had built on his hands during this training were the same you feel when he caresses you. Yours weren’t as prominent as his. You looked through one of your windows, into the distance. At nothing, really. You loved how his hands’ grip feels strong and secure, whether they were playfully wrapped around your wrists or neck, or grasping your hips as he took you from behind. You remembered the way they felt when they teased your folds and your clit. Your core throbbed and you whimpered at the thought. While you were daydreaming at your window, Aemond had walked in behind you. He’d heard you whimper and decided to announce his presence by putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you to turn. 

He was still sweaty from the yard, but you didn’t really care about that. He still had that confident look he got from a particularly good fight. You decided to tease him, running your hands down his chest, sliding them to his belt. You felt him stiffen in his clothes, and you went to your knees. All you could think about was having him in your mouth. You loosened his trousers and fished out his cock. It was proudly standing tall, already waiting for you.

You started by licking around the crown, taking his head slowly into your mouth. You could feel it throb with his desire, it almost felt like you could tell how much he was holding back so that he could enjoy the feeling of being inside of your mouth. You slowly slid the rest in, and spent some time kneeling in front of him, playing with his stones and caressing his cock with your tongue. He hummed his appreciation at the pleasure you were giving him while he finished undressing. He pulled back and your mouth felt empty, it’s not really what you wanted to be feeling at that particular moment. You wanted his spend in your mouth.

Aemond pulled you up and lead you to the bed, undressing you as he did so. He pushed you forward up onto the bed but held you back so you wouldn’t get too far away from him, as you were then kneeling on the bed. He slid behind you and ran his hands up to your neck. It was as though he had read what was on your mind earlier. He lightly grasped your neck while you leaned back into his chest. Aemond could smell your hair and the scent you put on that morning, he could feel your hair down his chest. He turned his head to kiss you as his hand slid down to your tits.

You felt his callouses as he teased your nipples. They were as erect as he was. You love having them teased. His rough skin on yours made you tingle in anticipation of what he was about to do. He ran them lower to your seam, and found your clit. He knew exactly where to touch you to make you come undone. You could feel him press against your ass the whole time, and he moved down to get a better angle with your pussy. 

His right hand still played with you but his left guided in his cock. He knelt behind you to gently fuck into you. You leaned forward almost into a proper dog position so he had a better angle for thrusting. His right hand held on to your hips, his left brushed around your shoulders and he took you that way until you both found release.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

Amos Bracken was slain in the Battle of the Burning Mill, and Ser Raylon Rivers led the green survivors back to Bracken territory.

They returned to Stone Hedge only to find that it had been captured in their absence by Prince Daemon Targaryen, riding his dragon Caraxes, and Prince Baelor Belaerys on Coatlicue had led a strong host of Darrys, Freys, Pipers, and Rootes to the Brackens' castle. The blacks quickly stormed the castle. Humfrey was captured, along with his remaining children, his third wife, and his lowborn paramour. When Raylon returned to Stone Hedge, he yielded to Daemon, ending any green strength in the riverlands.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

A month after the birth of your second daughter, Nymeria, you received word from your father that he was abdicating. No one knew it at the time, but it was only a plan to allow you to leave King’s Landing. The real plan was to go to Essos for a while, then come back.

Aegon stared at his brother. “You want me to allow you to leave, but not to fight? Why?” 

Aemond handed the scroll to Criston. He looked at the Belaerys sigil on the wax seal and broke it open. “‘King & Maegor Coatl Belaerys will abdicate his throne…’” He finished reading. “‘To spend time with his grandchildren’? What kind of King chooses to give up the crown before he dies?”

“He was injured. Perhaps the thought of dying made him aware he didn’t spend much time with his children and he wants to spend time with his younger children and his children’s children with what time he has left.” Aemond only hoped Aegon would buy the story. 

“It’s only natural,” Aemond said to Aegon. Focusing his words only on his brother, it was only his approval he needed.

He hoped any of the sober people there didn’t question this too deeply. Criston eyed Aemond suspiciously.

“So we now have another Queen in our court.” Aegon didn’t seem to understand as he had been drunk since breakfast.

“Your Grace,” Criston started. “It wouldn’t be wise to keep a Queen away from her people. It would be best to send her back home. We can send escorts.”

“Leave. Everyone except The Hand.”

Everyone left, though Aemond was last.

“If we send her home, who will take her spot on the HIgh Council?”

Criston sighed, “She can send someone to take her place, but we cannot risk starting a second war with a much bigger country when we are in the midst of a war in your own kingdom. Send her away and be done with it.”

“And Aemond?”

“He is her husband. He will have to go with her.”

“We can’t lose one of our best fighters and the biggest dragon during this war with the Blacks.”

“It’s not worth the fight, my King.”

Aegon looked back at Cole through his drunken haze, looking like he wished to protest that last comment.

The King swallowed his words, and stood quickly. He started walking out of the room, swaying as he did so.

“Fine.” Aegon said in a quiet voice. “Let them go.”

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

You had only just arrived back in Westeros for a week and traveling with a newborn was tiresome, but necessary. You flew Molcajete above Dragonstone, close enough to be spotted. You knew your brother, Baelor, would recognize it was Molca based on her description. That would be enough to prevent an attack. Then you flew your dragon northwest to The Mountains of the Moon. You had a secret messenger send word to Dragonstone, addressed to Queen Rhaenyra, that you wish to meet with someone and help to put and end to the war. When you were able to meet with Rhaenyra, you informed her Aemond was also coming. The court took this news and spread it like wildfire.

When you passed word you and Aemond were coming to Dragonstone, the first thing someone said to you was “Are you sure he’s not spying for Aegon?” You knew he would never betray you. Those claims of Aemond possibly being a spy were repeated all day around Dragonstone, you never heard the Queen or the Prince Consort participating in this gossip but you hoped it would at least give everyone no need to panic when they saw Vhagar.

You flew over the mountains looking for a sign that someone was coming. You didn’t expect to see Caraxes flying toward you. You readied yourself for a fight, then Daemon landed Caraxes on a nearby cliff, which was too small for your dragon. Probably on purpose. Once Daemon’s dragon flew away, you dismounted from your dragon with the purple rope, while she held her spot the best she could. Daemon didn’t look impressed, but you weren’t impressed by him either. He met you at the cliff.

You greeted him. “Prince Consort.”

“Why haven’t you proclaimed Rhaenyra as your Queen? In fact, it seems you feel quite the opposite when you marry our enemies.”

“I, myself, will be a queen some day. I can make treaties and create allies, but I cannot call anyone my Queen or King, save for my father, the King of Sothoryos.” You considered your situation, though. “Regardless if King Viserys did change his mind at the end, I don’t believe that words on the deathbed or while partially conscious should be considered as truth. He repeatedly said the opposite for years - even the day of his death - while of clear mind. Rhaenyra deserves her crown.”

“And what of her sons?”

“The ones with dark hair and eyes?” Daemon clenched his teeth, expecting you to say something offensive, but he didn’t know you. “Neither I, nor would my people, care about who the father was. Rhaenyra is the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the heir, and she brought them into the world. And even if they are bastards, they aren’t treated like bastards where I’m from. I am a bastard, myself.”

“Why didn’t your parents simply marry before you were born?”

“They were fighting a war. My father, physically. My mother physically, until the fourth month of her pregnancy. There wasn’t time.”

“Where are your daughters?”

“With four guards.”

Daemon “Rhaenyra doesn’t want you or your children dead. Just Aemond. Perhaps, if she kills him, I can take up the old traditions and wed you, too.”

“Perhaps, if there were no enmity between us, you could take up Loicato traditions and I could wed you both.” Daemon tilted his head at you, to which you replied, “We could build an empire on our joined family and the dragons we create.”

“Are you offering to bear my child? Because I know for a fact that Rhaenyra will never bed Aemond.” You nodded in acknowledgement. “Is that something you dream of, often?”

You walked towards him as you talked, “Not the empire part. I’d rather go home to Sothoryos and keep to myself, but if it keeps my beloved husband alive, I will do anything.”

“Like become a whore?”

It was your turn to laugh. “Every day, I find it more and more curious that you Westerosi are so obsessed with what goes on between a woman’s legs.” You stopped when you were a few feet away. “I haven’t been a maid for a long time and, even then, it wasn’t against my will. I will be a queen. I don’t need to be whore.” You started circling him. “Where I’m from, if a person is not consenting, they are given the opportunity to castrate the person who violated them in front of as many people as possible. To show what the punishment is for rape.” You stepped as close to him as possible without touching him. “Eight lovers later, I’ve yet to be paid for it.”

Daemon grabbed your throat, but he didn’t put much force behind it, “So you’re an… Ilībio.” (‘Slut’.)  His other hand grazed your face. “And you consider yourself safe with me?”

“Molca isn’t far.” The distant sound of your dragon’s roar could he heard.

Daemon poked his knife into your ribs. “I could probably gut you before she got here.”

You touched his armour. Your fingers glowed orange and heated the metal. “And Valyrians are known for their magic.” When he grunted from the pain, you stopped. “You wouldn’t have wasted time talking to me if you were going to kill me. You know I’m not a threat.” Your thumb, now back to normal, traced his bottom lip. “I believe you have other things on your mind.”

“Are you trying to bewitch me?”

“I don’t know any magic that can make someone do something against their will. It is against our Sothoryi ways.” Daemon pulled you flush to his body and you felt his hardened bulge. “You definitely have something else on your mind.”

Daemon kissed you, hand moving to the back of your neck, and you indulged for a few seconds. You knew that if he were present, Aemond would probably just roll his eye. You pulled away, then you smirked at him and sat in your own area to read a book. ‘A game.’ Daemon thought. That made him more interested than ever. Perhaps, as a princess, you needed to have your own fun sometimes. 

You ignored him the rest of the wait for Aemond to arrive. A short while later, you heard the beat of a massive dragon’s wings on the wind. It can only be Vhagar finally approaching you. Aemond didn’t have a dismounting rope as you did. He would have to land Vhagar somewhere and walk. He wouldn’t be happy.

…………………………………………..

Once Aemond arrived, he immediately felt the playful tension between you and Daemon. That playfulness  quickly changed when you saw Aemond. You stood from your spot and walked to him. Daemon watched as Aemond kissed your temple in greeting. You hadn’t been apart for long, but he felt the need to kiss you. It seemed you would all be arriving separately and you he could tell you were on edge.

…………………………………………..

“I deeply apologize for that day above Shipbreaker Bay.” Aemond said. “I do regret it.”

“Be that as it may, my son almost lost his life.” Rhaenyra stated. “He lost his dragon.”

“It was a regrettable mistake.”

You were standing in front of Rhaenyra, too and you interrupted. “If you need to see it, in order to understand what happened, I can show you.”

“I am not going to let you fill my head with magic. You could show me anything and call it true.” 

You responded, “Your Grace, I have no inclination to show you falsehoods or mislead you now.” You knelt in front of her, “As my brother before me, I pledge House Belaerys and, as many fighters as volunteer to fight in this war, to Queen Rhaenyra I Targaryen. She smiled at you, a gentle smile that you had not seen from her yet, using a small gesture to invite you to rise from your knee. 

“Thank you.” She followed up by asking what led you to take this step to fight with the Blacks.

“It’s a very long answer, though not a complicated one.”

“Tell me the core of it.”

“The Greens are using everything they can to turn the people against you. I know you did not send those murderers after a Jaehaerys. Even if Lucerys was killed, it would be Aemond you go after. We knew Luke wasn’t dead. Even if he was, it wouldn’t serve you any purpose to kill Jaehaerys. And, with what little I know of you, I don’t believe that you do anything without a clear purpose in mind. I’ve only had a taste of what you must have suffered your whole life and I can tell that many hours have been spoken only with your sex in mind. You are the rightful Queen. I am not going home without ensuring the true heir sits on the throne.”

“Thank you, Princess. It means a great deal that you would pledge yourself me, if only for this war. I am very grateful.”

“It’s not entirely why. I know what they have planned for my people and my home. I will not sit back and allow them to take our dragons & exploit our resources so they can become the next great empire.”

Everyone around the table looked at each other. They had heard about the High Council, but not what they had planned.

“And Lucerys is welcome to any dragon egg or wild dragon that he can claim.”

…………………………………………………

Daemon later offered to see what happened between Lucerys and Aemond. 

You performed the ritual. Involving mixing your blood and his in wine blessed by a red priestess.

“Teomeh…” You took out your obsidian blade. “Xitlapouki in kauitlaxotlalli.” 

“What are you saying?”

Aemond answered for you, “She’s asking the gods for help…”

You cut your hand and bled into the cup & on top of one candle. “Nik noittalis.”

When you held out your hand, Daemon hesitated, but eventually gave you his own hand. You sliced his palm and bled him into the goblet and over the second candle. “Nechmaka in uelilistli. Nik itta in nelli.”

“She’s asking to see the truth of the past.”

You lit each candle and poured the wine into the goblet. “Iuan kipano ipan.”

“And to pass it on.”

You picked up the goblet and drank half of the contents, then you handed it to Daemon. “Drink the rest.” He did as you bid him. When he sat the cup down, you blew out the candles.

Flashes of light danced in front of Daemon’s eyes. He saw everything as it happened, and that led to you joining their fight.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

The Sack of Duskendale took place at Duskendale in the crownlands.

Following the assault on Harrenhal, the Battle of the Burning Mill, and the taking of Stone Hedge, Criston advised moving against the "traitors" that had bent the knee to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. While House Velaryon and House Celtigar were unreachable, the "black" lords whose land were on the mainland had no protection against Aegon's loyalists.

First they reached Rosby and Stokeworth, whose lords were blacks but had been captured in King's Landing during the initial coup, and agreed to bend the knee in order to spare their own lives. Having secured their submission, Aegon II's host passed bloodlessly through both castles and even added their strength to his own. In addition to dragons (Sunfyre & Tessarion), Aegon II and Criston Cole marched out of King's Landing with 100 knights, 500 men-at-arms, and three times as many sellswords: thus about 2,400 in total. The forced addition of men from Rosby and Stokeworth would have increased this to slightly under 3,000 men by the time they reached Duskendale.

While Duskendale was a walled port town, it was caught completely by surprise and unprepared. It quickly fell to Aegon II's forces and was sacked, while the ships at the harbor were set afire. Lord Gunthor Darklyn was beheaded for treason. Most of his household knights submitted to Aegon, although a few decided to follow Gunthor in death.

After the sack was complete, Criston moved the loyalist forces to Rook's Rest, seat of House Staunton. Unlike Duskendale, by this time they had forewarning of Aegon II's advance and barred the castle gates, leading to a siege while the greens despoiled the surrounding lands. This climaxed in the large Battle of Rook's Rest.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

3 months after the birth of your second daughter Nymeria was Rook’s Rest.

After you and Aemond left King’s Landing, Aegon never expected to see you again. He had no clue that Molcajete and Vhagar were hidden away. He had no idea that you had been training almost nonstop to get your strength back after two childbirths. Not that you ever stopped training completely, but you had slowed significantly. 

Ser Criston Cole, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the new Hand of the King to Aegon II Targaryen, devised a more aggressive strategy for the greens than his predecessor as Hand, Ser Otto Hightower. Criston planned a trap for the blacks at Rook's Rest, while also forcing the submission of the nearby crownlands houses that were allied with Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. But Aemond was also planning a trap.

Criston Cole marched out of King's Landing with 100 knights, 500 men-at-arms, and three times as many sellswords: thus about 2,400 in total. Lord Rosby and Lord Stokeworth had recently submitted to Aegon to avoid execution in King's Landing, and Criston forced them to prove their loyalty by adding the strength of Rosby and Stokeworth to the green host. The army was thus slightly under 3,000 men in strength by the time they reached Duskendale. 

Lord Staunton had been forewarned of the approach of Ser Criston's army. He closed the gates of Rook's Rest, but was unable to prevent Criston from burning his fields or killing his smallfolk and livestock. When supplies in Rook's Rest began to run low, Lord Staunton asked for assistance from Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, sending a raven to Dragonstone. 

You knew you had to fight against the greens, with the blacks and your brother, Baelor. But you believed that Aemond would never fight against his family and you didn’t ask him to. Instead, you asked him to make sure Jaenara and Nymeria were safe. You didn’t know it at the time, but Aemond decided he couldn’t stand the thought of sitting out of this fight when you would be out there risking your life. He left the girls with Jaera and readied himself. You had already left, but Aemond had a plan. He would retrieve both of your dragons and show up after the fight began.

Queen Rhaenyra's sons, Jacaerys & Joffrey Velaryon, were eager to join the fight atop their dragons, Vermax and Tyraxes. However, Rhaenyra only allowed Jacaerys to go. Nine days after Staunton's message, You, Rhaenys Targaryen, and Jace, along with their dragons arrived above Rook's Rest to aid Lord Staunton. You were riding with Rhaenys.

You and your bannermen, as well as some of those from the Blacks, blew your death whistles (ehecachichtli). They were medium sized skull-shaped objects made from ceramic. Hundreds of them all at once sounded like terrified screaming. It wasn’t a dragon roar, but it was disturbing. Your people called it the ‘Shriek of Death’. 

Aemond could hear the sounds from his position. He didn’t know what they were and it scared him. It sounded like thousands of people screaming, but it was so loud and he tried not to focus on the sound. As soon as you left, he readied himself for the battle. He felt so alone in that moment. Worried about his wife and daughters. Worried of what would become of his family. He had left the dogs, too. They couldn’t fight anyway. So he waited until he heard the battle begin. Then he did as you taught him. He closed his eye and focused on calling Vhagar. He knew Molcajete would follow, as they were practically inseparable now. He didn’t know how long it would take, but he hoped he would make it before anyone on the battlefield recognized your fighting style. Aegon would kill you for joining the blacks. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Criston was prepared for dragons, and had his archers and scorpions fire at them. The dragons were largely unharmed by these attacks, and they responded by burning Criston's soldiers with dragonfire. While you dismounted from Meleys, you prepared for battle on foot.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Criston Cole then sprung his trap. King Aegon II Targaryen appeared in the sky atop their dragons, Sunfyre, and attacked. The four dragons fought a thousand feet above the field. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

You were fighting on the battlefield, dressed in the new armour given to you by Rhaenyra. Aemond saw you earlier that morning, with your purple war paint, and teeth dyed cochineal red — an intimidating sight — with your macuahuitl and another weapon at your side. 

Aegon saw you fighting and he saw red. He immediately swooped down on Sunfyre. You were attacked again by another green knight. After you killed him, you tripped and hurt your ankle. When you got up, you grabbed your macuahuitl and started limping away to continue the fight. Just before Sunfyre released his flame on you, Coatlicue, your brother’s dragon, wrapped her jaws around Sunfyre’s neck. You heard Sunfyre cry out as Coatlicue connected her teeth to his flesh and you looked up. Seeing your brother’s armour atop his dragon alerted you to how close they were. You were almost run through with a sword, but you jumped back just in time and ended the man’s life. Aemond saw it all happen, but he was too far away. Then Molca flew overhead and when she landed, you ran to her and climbed her ladder.

Aemond flew around the battlefield. He was happy you were safe, but he was also worried about his brother, Aegon. Regardless what they had planned for Sothoryos, they were still his family.

You knew you had to get in between Baelor and Aegon. You waited for an opening and made your move. Your brother’s bigger dragon was about to deal a fatal blow to Aegon when you got in between them. “No!”

“This is a man who has kept you in King’s Landing, against your will. A traitor and usurper!”

Behind you, while you were arguing with your brother, Aegon was about to attack you again, Sunfyre reared back, about to burn both you and your brother, but Molcajete turned her head toward Aegon & Sunfyre and roared. You looked at him, completely unbothered by his presence. Molca could easily do to Aegon & Sunfyre what everyone thought Aemond did to Lucerys. “Leave or I’ll let her kill you.”

Aemond watched as you allowed his brother to leave. Sunfyre rose into the sky again. 

Meleys caught up to Sunfyre, who was clearly struggling, maybe panicked, if a dragon can be. Aegon looked equally panicked atop the dragon. He was attempting to get the dragon under control to get away from the battle, and even with your mercy, battles are chaotic. Rhaenys didn’t see what had happened. She didn’t see you let Aegon go. She only saw the enemy in an exposed position. Her dragon took the opportunity to approach Sunfyre from above. You heard from the distance, “Dracarys!”

The attacking dragon let out a stream of flame until Sunfyre abruptly attempted to pull up. Sunfyre’s wing caught in the other’s mouth and tore. The screams of pain from Sunfyre would echo for decades after in the nightmares of every witness. Sunfyre had one wing half torn from his body. Aegon suffered severe burns and fell to his death. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Aemond saw his brother’s last fall. He knew this would tear out his mother’s heart. He didn’t want to spend any more time than he had to here any longer.

The Green army almost entirely ceased hostilities when they saw their king fall. You knew it would have been a quick enough death, no lingering in the halfway point for weeks on end as you’ve seen before. You found Aemond on the field and held him tightly.

Ser Criston Cole lost almost all of his soldiers to dragonfire and fighting. Rhaenyra took the iron throne. Sunfyre, was flightless and it was decided that they would take him to Sothoryos for as long as his life was full. Eventually, Alicent understood that it was only a miscommunication about Aegon’s flight, it wasn’t your intent to get him killed. 

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EPILOGUE

TAGLIST

@ilikechocolatemilkh

SERIES MASTERLIST

[thesaintofnevergettingitright]

I am prepared to pay any amount of money for a Leverage: Redemption scene that’s just Breanna explaining what Polyamory/Ethical Non-Monogamy means to the team (for a job, she swears), with the caveat that these have to be their exact reactions:

Harry: visibly surprised/bemused, but in the same “ok cool, I guess this is a thing now” vibe he has when he discovers a new humanly impossible thing the team is capable of.

Sophie: Keeps staring fondly into the middle distance, clearly reminiscing about SOMETHING. Makes a few comments like “that was the part my 5th husband never understood,” or (coyly) “oh I didn’t know there was a word for that.” At one point she starts a sentence with “You know Nate and Sterling…” But doesn’t get to finish because everyone is yelling and making disgusted noises.

Parker: Extremely focused on the presentation, actively taking notes. Has the exact same expression she uses while picking a lock or planning a heist. After Breanna’s done speaking she looks directly at Eliot, starts to say something, and then sees Hardison shaking his head frantically behind him, so just shrugs and says “cool. Got it.” and adds it to her Human Behavior Flow Chart.

Hardison: nodding along encouragingly but lowkey paying WAY more attention to everyone’s (Eliot/Parker’s) reactions This is clearly not the first time Breanna has given him this spiel, but he has apparently never shared the info with the team.

(The next two are edits because I changed my mind. Sorry if you saw this before the edits lmao)

Eliot: Gets defensive-angry-flustered in the exact same way he did when he kept insisting that video games aren’t a sport. Eliot is very open-minded and caring, but he’s also a 50 year old white dude raised to be good old southern boy. Literally says “That’s not how relationships WORK, Breanna. Relationships aren’t… they’re SUPPOSED to be between….”

Breanna: is deeply unimpressed but also unsurprised by Eliot’s reaction. Low key planned this talk specifically for Eliot lbr. “No, no. Please finish that thought Eliot. Relationships are supposed to be what??? Between one one man and one woman?” *raises eyebrow with the queer glare of shame*

The conclusion of the episode is the team screwing over an asshole that was hate-crime-ing a poly group for financial reasons. Then as they hang out with the folks they saved, getting to know them and having a drink etc., the camera zooms in on Eliot who glances over at Parker and Hardison laughing at something, a thoughtful look on his face. Breanna and Sophie exchange a knowing smile while Harry looks confused but happy to be there.

Fin.

[necrotic-nephilim]

"Can you two manage not to tear each other apart while I'm gone?"

Bruce, Jason, and Tim (With JayTim or maybe even BruJayTim)

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

god, this one was so good. so, you get the catch-22 of this being a bit longer, 4.5k, but with the warning, i have not edited it so it might be a little rough. but the whole point of this is quick fun so! this is basically Tim and Jason trying to kill each other bc they're under the influence of a toxin. both have a relationship with Bruce and are mad about it. it does end in some short JayTim porn and an implied BruJayTim ending. you could argue dub-con, but it's mostly consensual. enjoy <3

Tim honestly would’ve preferred if it was fear toxin or Joker venom.

Those, he at least knew the tricks for dealing with. How to keep his heart rate down, how to focus and not give in to his body’s adrenaline response. And even if none of those failed, the worst of the fear toxin was just something Tim could wait out while playing distracting music.

This was different.

Anger was different.

“It looks like someone took Crane’s compound and modified it,” Bruce, the lucky bastard who had managed not to inhale the substance, was stood perfectly calm in front of the Batcomputer. “It’s difficult to tell though without a direct sample.”

“If you would just let me look at it maybe we could get somewhere,” Tim hissed through grit teeth, aiming a lethal scowl at Bruce. His nails were digging into his palm. He frowned and tried to take a break. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce looked over his shoulder at Tim with concern and pity. “Are you sure you don’t want to be tranquilized until I synthesize the cure?”

“Bruce, if you try to get close enough to tranq me, I’ll probably try to rip your larynx out with my teeth,” Tim said. The itch for violence sat right underneath his fingertips. He was desperate for it, already twitching at the thought.

Logic and reasoning were hard to hold onto. Every straight thought Tim had was immediately consumed by the fire of fury, burned into something unrecognizable.

Tim didn’t feel like himself when he was angry. That was the worst part. He never liked his anger before and now, it was the only part of him on display. An ugly and twisted thing.

“He could just shoot you with a tranq dart,” Jason said smoothly. “I’d pay to see it.”

Jason was also affected by the rage toxin, though compared to Tim, he looked barely bothered. His head was tilted back to rest against the back of his chair, eyes closed. Both hands were in his lap, fingers calmly laced. His hands were forced together by the same cuffs that Tim was also wearing. Tim had suggested the cuffs when he tried to claw out Bruce’s eyes because Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. Despite Jason’s lack of reaction, it was universally decided to also put Jason in the cuffs. The handcuffs were chained to the chairs Tim and Jason were sitting in, with at least six feet’s distance between them so they couldn’t try to grab each other.

Which Tim had done at least a half a dozen times by now.

“If you’re not going to have helpful input you can keep your goddamn mouth shut,” Tim snapped, holding himself still in the chair from trying to launch across the room again. His muscles were so tense from clenching them that he was starting to shake.

“Tim,” Bruce said softly, giving him a look. Bruce was perfectly fine if Tim snapped at him. But when Tim snapped at Jason, he got a stern reprimand.

Which only pissed Tim off more.

He didn’t understand how he was fine with Bruce sleeping with both of them now. The thought was ridiculously enraging, how he could allow Bruce to even be around Jason Todd. It usually didn’t bother Tim, and was one of the things Tim accepted about Bruce. The lack of monogamy.

But now? Staring at Jason’s smug face that Tim itched to break? It made Tim’s blood boil.

He was more important and useful to Bruce than Jason could ever be. And Tim didn’t have a pile of bodies on his ledger. He actually knew he to behave like a person and not a wild animal.

Ironic how they looked now, then.

Jason’s face split into a feral grin. He leaned forward. “Yeah, Tim,” his tone mocked the one Bruce used. “Let’s behave ourselves.”

Tim could see it in Jason’s eyes. How angry he was, how he was holding back everything that Tim couldn’t. His little show was a facade and Tim damn well knew it.

He wanted to rip Tim apart just as badly.

Now it was Jason who Bruce gave the look to. “This is easier for you to control than it is for him, Jason. Don’t try to provoke him.”

Tim hated how he was spoken about as if he wasn’t even there. Like he was some hapless child throwing a temper tantrum that Bruce was indulging, but sharing quiet whispers about with the real adults.

Like he thought Jason could control himself better than Tim just because Jason had experience with the Lazarus Pit, making him less susceptible to anger manipulation.

At least that was the working theory, currently. Jason’s working theory was simply that he was better than Tim. It was when he said that, that Tim suggested the handcuffs. He had enough of his wits left about him to know he’d sort of regret killing Jason Todd, no matter how badly he wanted to right now.

Jason just shrugged at Bruce’s words and relaxed back into his chair, crossing his legs. “He shouldn’t be so easily provokable then.”

“You know damn well-” Tim started.

“Timothy.” Bruce put a command in his voice that he rarely used with Tim. It made Tim straighten on instinct. The endless patience Bruce had was getting worn more and more thin with every jab and insult traded between Tim and Jason. He looked like he was at his wit’s end. “Don’t listen to him.”

A slow, deep breath did nothing to calm Tim’s nerves. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and then resisted the urge to spit it at Bruce. “B, I love you, but you have no idea how hard this is. Especially around him of all people.”

The look that crossed Bruce’s face was pained. They always danced around the elephant in the room, that was Bruce accepting Jason back into the fold a little too quickly for everyone’s comfort. It was his soft spot showing. Even when Tim wasn’t under the influence of a drug he didn’t like it and had tried several times to warn Bruce that Jason was a lost cause.

It’d caused a lot of arguments on their best days. Weeks of not speaking to each other on their worst.

And because Tim was the dutiful partner, the loving Robin, he always gave in first. Bruce needed him. In some ways, romantically. But in most ways, Bruce just needed genuine companionship from someone who wasn’t batshit crazy and murdering drug lords like it was a sport. That was Tim’s job. A job he liked, even.

Not that he was too fond of it right now.

They both knew, deep down Bruce had desperate wants of Jason and Tim getting along. The soft comments Bruce made about how well Tim and Jason could work together in a hypothetical always held an unspoken meaning. It wasn’t actually about Tim working with Jason on the field. It was about the fantasy of them being in Bruce’s bed at the same time, loving each other the way they loved him.

That would happen over Tim’s cold, dead body.

“I know,” Bruce said quietly. He reached out for Tim, then seeing the look in Tim’s eye, seemed to think against it and pulled his hand back. It only made Tim angrier. Angry Bruce didn’t currently trust Tim to give him affection. Angry Bruce was right not to trust him. So goddamn angry that despite craving comfort, all Tim wanted to do was bite the hand that fed him. A frustrated growl came out of Tim’s throat and he kicked the ground.

“You know,” Jason drawled, studying Tim with his barely contained madness, “I’m glad for it, honestly. I was starting to think you didn’t have any bite in you at all, Drake. Least we all know what it takes for you to finally snap.”

Tim opened his mouth for a biting insult, but looked at Bruce. He took a deep breath. “I hope all this self-restraint you’re showing is a lesson you keep when all this is over. The last thing we need is for you to go on another murder rampage because someone hurt your feelings.”

Jason’s eyes flared. His hands curled into fists. “Oh, you have no idea the self-restraint I show. If you want to see on a real rampage I’ll fucking-”

“Enough!” Bruce slammed a hand on the console. He ran his hand over his face and sighed. “I have more files on fear toxin in my study I need to find.” Bruce looked between them, giving them both a hard stare. “Can you two manage not to tear each other apart while I’m gone?”

“Ask him,” Jason shrugged. He was trying to sound nonchalant again, but he spoke through grit teeth. “I’m just fine over here.”

Tim just held up his cuffed hands, showing where the chain ended, keeping him firmly connected to the steel chair. “I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to.”

Bruce nodded. He passed one more look between the two of them. “I’ll be right back. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Again, he looked like he wanted to reach out. To which of them, Tim wasn’t sure. probably both, which sent an involuntary wave of disgust through his body. If Bruce touched Jason in front of him, Tim was probably going to puke. Bruce turned on his heel and walked out of the cave. They both watched his figure slowly disappear from view.

Before Tim could even turn to Jason and say something, he was tackled to the ground by a blindingly fast and heavy human body.

“What the-” Tim started, raising his hands to protect his face when a fist tried to come down on it. “How the fuck-”

Jason was wearing a grin that had gone completely mad, in every definition of the word. He had easily pinned Tim to the ground, a knee on Tim’s chest. Jason’s hands were still cuffed together but somehow, he’d undone the chain connecting him to his chair. Which boded particularly poorly for Tim, who was still chained to his chair, giving his arms a limited range of movement to defend himself.

Of course, Jason had picked the lock without either of them noticing.

“Thought you were the smart one, Drake,” Jason sneered. His hands were forced together, so when he reached for his waist with one hand they both had to move away from Tim’s face. “You really fucking thought I’d willingly hand over all my weapons to Bruce in a room with you?” He pulled a small, switchblade out from under his waistband and flipped it open. “I wouldn’t have even if I wasn’t drugged.”

“I knew you were acting, you fucking bastard,” Tim snarled. He didn’t have a weapon. It had been his suggestion to hand all of them over to Bruce because Tim was trying to be reasonable.

He should’ve fucking known better. There was never any reasoning with Jason.

Tim still had his bare hands. He launched them toward Jason’s throat. They managed to curl around flesh, nails just starting to dig in, when Jason stabbed Tim in the hand. Tim yelled, yanking his hand away and taking the other one with it.

That was the other shitty part of the anger. It made pain harder to ignore.

“Had to convince Bruce it was okay to leave you alone with me,” Jason said, shrugging slightly. “Figured I would only get one chance.” He raised the knife and tried to bring it down on Tim’s face. Tim managed to stop him, getting the knife tangled in the chains. “For fuck’s sake.” Jason shifted his weight. He pulled the knife free and brought up his over leg, using it to pin down the chain under his boot. Without any slack, Tim’s hands were forced against the ground, tugging uselessly.

“I will rip you apart with my teeth if I have to,” Tim growled, trying to snap at Jason’s face to prove his point.

Jason easily dodged and laughed. “I’d like to see you try. Maybe It’ll make you interesting, for once.” He brought the knife down and held it to Tim’s throat. “Grayson, I could’ve understood. He’s a pretty guy. Got a good sense of humor on him. Even Gordon. I don’t like her, but I could’ve respected it.” Jason’s face twisted into an ugly look, staring down at Tim with utter contempt. “But you? I have to share Bruce with you of all people? My goddamn replacement? That’s just fucking insulting.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten yourself killed then,” Tim shot back. “You were easy to replace.”

“Yeah, provoke the guy with a knife to your throat,” Jason pressed the blade against Tim’s skin until a drop of blood was sliding down his adam’s apple. “I’ll show you what a dead Robin looks like.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “You really think Bruce will forgive you for killing me?” He tugged at the chain as hard as he could. It still wasn’t budging. “He’d tear you apart.”

“Yeah, I really do,” Jason mocked Tim. He leaned in close enough for Tim to smell mint on Jason’s breath. “He always does. He’ll just blame it on the toxin. We both know he always forgives me no matter what I do.” His grin was a ghastly thing. “Can you say the same, Drake?”

Tim just growled. He headbutted Jason, not caring about the knife. If he was going to die, he would at least leave his mark.

Jason jerked back, rubbing his nose. Tim had hopefully broken it. Blood was already starting to pour down Jason’s face. Jason had the audacity to laugh. “Cute.” He rubbed his nose for a moment, feeling the bone. “You know I’m not going to kill you, though. That would be way too nice.”

“Nice?” Tim scoffed. “Did you finally learn the meaning of mercy, or something?”

“For you? Never.” Jason brought the knife to Tim’s face. “I just want to make you wish you were dead.” he dug the blade into Tim’s temple and Tim yelled, feeling it cut through his skin all the way down to his jaw. “What part of you do I have to mutilate to make Bruce stop loving you?”

Tim didn’t say anything. He was too busy trying to blink through the pain of a shallow cut that should’ve felt like nothing. Instead, it felt like a hot iron had branded the entire left side of Tim’s face, melting most of his skin off.

“What’s so pretty it could make Bruce like someone as pathetic as you?” Jason pressed on. He put another cut across Tim’s face, slashing through his cheek. “You’ve got a nice face. Is that it?” He leaned back so he could rip Tim’s shirt apart, exposing Tim’s chest. “We both know Bruce is a physical guy. Maybe it’s something else.” The blade trailed across Tim’s chest, looking for the next place to cut.

Tim managed to get leverage against the concrete with his feet. He pushed himself up as hard and fast as he could, throwing Jason off of him. Before Jason had the chance to recover, Tim launched himself forward and wrapped the chain around Jason’s throat.

“Maybe his love for you is only skin deep,” Tim pulled the chain as tight as it could go, watching Jason’s face turn red without oxygen. The rational part of him knew he was taking too much pleasure in watching Jason struggle for air. The rest of him didn’t care. “But Bruce actually loves me.”

Jason snarled. “He’s loved me longer.”

He wildly stabbed at Tim until the knife sank into Tim’s forearm. Tim screamed and let go, giving Jason slack to breathe, getting a hand under the chain and yanking hard on it. Tim didn’t fall off of Jason but instead fell into him. Their bodies were pressed together, and Jason used it as an excuse to wrap the chain around Tim, forcing them against each other.

“Can’t get away from me now,” Jason whispered into Tim’s ear. He ripped his knife out of Tim’s arm.

“You really want to be this close to me?” Tim asked. He tried to headbutt Jason again but didn’t have enough damned room to move. “Your fucking funeral.”

“I’m the one with the knife,” Jason said in a sing-song voice. He wiggled his arms between them and brought the knife against Tim’s crotch. Tim had his pants as a layer of fabric protecting him, but he still went rigid. “Is it here? Is this what Bruce likes so much? Go on. Tell me how he likes to fuck you, Drake. Bet you’re real fucking vanilla about it and he has to be all nice to you.”

“You sound jealous,” Tim tried to bite Jason, who kept pulling his head away. “You’re the one who needs to hear him say he’s proud of you just to come. I’m not the one of us who cries during sex.”

“How the hell-” Jason’s whole body jerked in anger.

Tim knew his grin was feral. “Trust me, I know all the embarrassing details. Bruce talks about it all the time.” That wasn’t entirely true. Tim had just overheard it once when Bruce forgot to turn off his comms. But the lie was far more embarrassing for Jason.

“I could make you cry,” Jason sounded angrier than Tim had ever heard him, which was a hell of a feat. “He’s just not fucking you hard enough. Putting you in your goddamn place like you deserve.”

“You want to fuck me, now?” Tim taunted. “I thought you hated me.”

“Too vanilla to know what hatefucking is, Drake?” Jason shot back. He pressed the knife harder into Tim’s crotch. “I could make you fucking beg for it.”

“Like hell.”

“You wanna find out?” Jason asked.

Tim paused his struggles. He pulled back and gave Jason an incredulous look. “You’re not actually serious.”

“Either I kill you, torture you, or bitch you.” Jason shrugged. He dug the knife down enough to cut open Tim’s pants. The fabric tore loudly. “I’ll let you pick.”

“I’ll kill you first,” Tim shot back. He refused to take the offer seriously.

He didn’t know what his answer would be, if it was a serious offer, so it was better for Tim to not think about it entirely.

“Scared you’ll like it?” Jason was just mocking him now. “If I ruin you enough, you’ll come crawling back for me instead of Bruce. And besides,” Jason lowered his voice to a purr, “we both know he’d pay to watch. Bet he’d even help me hold you down.”

Against his will, Tim shuddered. His anger was clouding his judgment, making it hard to figure out what other emotions were there. Maybe there was arousal. Maybe it was fear.

Tim always had trouble telling the difference.

“Have you always wanted to fuck me?” Tim avoided everything Jason was saying. It made him too dizzy to think about.

Jason just gave him a shrug. “Can’t say I haven’t wondered what’s so special about fucking you that he keeps doing it. Is your ass really that good or something?”

Tim snorted. He had no idea Jason didn’t know. “He doesn’t fuck me in the ass.”

“What?” Jason’s brow furrowed.

“If I had a dick down there, you’d have cut it by now,” Tim pointed out, looking down at the knife.

Jason frowned. He dug the knife deeper, ripping open a bigger hole in the fabric of Tim’s pants until he could force his hand inside, thankfully the one that wasn’t holding the knife. Tim tried to kick, but he couldn’t stop Jason’s hand from groping until it found his cunt, pressing against Tim’s underwear.

“Son of a bitch,” Jason said. “Well, that makes you even easier to fuck. Now I don’t need prep.”

“You’re not fucking me,” Tim snarled, trying to get away from Jason’s hand. his skin was too hot, to have Jason that close to his most sensitive areas. He didn’t want to know what his body would do if Jason got past the thin barrier of fabric between him and Tim’s skin.

“You haven’t actually told me no yet,” Jason pointed out. He managed to cut apart Tim’s underwear, a cold reminder of how close the knife was to his cunt. Thick fingers pressed against Tim’s hole until two managed to sink in. “You’re wet.”

“No, I’m not,” Tim gasped, even though he could feel it. The easy slide of Jason’s fingers inside of him, the way there was no resistance from his body. He still wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he wanted this. Not when he wanted Jason dead just as badly. Tim opened his mouth to say something more, but Jason brushed a thumb over his clit. “Oh god.”

“if I’m being honest with you,” Jason hummed, starting to move his fingers inside of Tim, “I think it’s a lot easier to be horny than angry right now. That’s the only damn feeling that works to fight this.”

He was right and Tim hated him for it. The anger thrumming under his skin pulled back, just slightly, to make room for arousal. It made Tim want to give in, just so he could have anything to latch onto besides cold, empty fury.

And Jason’s fingers felt good inside of him. They arched right up into Tim’s sweet spot, making him gasp and jerk.

“How quick do you think I can make you come?” Jason asked. He worked his fingers and thumb together, finding a good pace. Like he knew exactly how Tim liked it.

“Fuck you,” Tim groaned, throwing his head back.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Jason said.

They both knew he wouldn’t. Tim didn’t want Jason to stop. If Jason stopped, Tim would probably grab the knife and gut him.

“I hate you.” Tim’s hips were moving against his will. He was acutely aware the knife was still down there too, but he put a small amount of trust in Jason to not let it trust.

“It’s mutual,” Jason agreed. He shifted his hips until they were pressed against Tim’s thigh. He was hard. Tim could feel the outline of Jason’s cock as Jason started to rut, grinding against Tim for friction. A low moan came out of him, going straight to Tim’s core.

Jason was kind of handsome, at least. Especially with blood all over his face.

“Now are you gonna come for me or what?” Jason growled into Tim’s ear. “Show me exactly how much you hate me, Drake. I want to fucking feel it.”

“You’re a bastard who doesn’t deserve Bruce,” Tim whined as Jason’s fingers worked him. Rubbing his clit and thrusting into his sweet spot. It was a sweet, torturous distraction from his rage, but it still didn’t make the feeling quite go away.

“Agreed.” Jason shrugged, seeming unbothered by the statement. He groaned again, pressing his forehead against Tim’s. “I’m still better than you, though. You’re the little bitch who’s never going to forget what being fucked by me feels like. Maybe I’ll be nice enough that you’ll enjoy it and jerk off to it every time you’re wet.”

The thought of jerking off to Jason repulsed Tim. Yet it was the same thought that sent his orgasm through him, like a shock to his core. He yelled, so loud it echoed through the cave. His hole clenched around Jason’s fingers as his body worked through the spasms of pleasure.

For one glorious moment, Tim didn’t notice his anger. He just had the beautiful crescendo of pleasure crashing down on him, making his body sing.

“Isn’t that fucking adorable,” Jason gasped, grinding harder against Tim. You’re finally not annoying for once. No wonder Bruce fucks you. It’s the only way someone can enjoy being around you.”

The words were mean and Tim wanted to snap back, but he was boneless. Every insult from Jason was a new aftershock of pleasure down Tim’s spine.

Tim opened his mouth to find something to say, but he was cut off.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bruce stood at the mouth of the cave, staring at them with wide eyes. He looked just as angry as Tim felt, stalking over to where they were pinned and bloody on the floor. “Jason if you hurt him-”

“I’m fingering him, actually,” Jason corrected lazily, still grinding his hips.

Bruce stopped walking. “What?”

Jason thrust his fingers inside Tim to make his point, pulling a cry out of Tim. He was oversensitive from his orgasm and couldn’t get away from the pressure against his g-spot. “You should be proud of us. We’re getting along pretty well.”

Sure they were. Like Tim’s face wasn’t cut up and Jason’s nose wasn’t broken.

“You…” Bruce trailed off, breath caught in his throat. Tim watched his pupils dilate.

“He’s enjoying himself. Just came on my fingers,” Jason said. He pressed the knife against Tim’s thigh as a warning. “Right, Drake?”

Tim bit back a remark. He nodded.

“I promise to behave if you let me fuck him,” Jason looked up at Bruce. He was definitely lying. “We should both fuck him. See how much he can take. I’ll even keep the cuffs on just to be nice.”

Tim couldn’t stop the soft moan that came out of him at the thought.

Bruce looked between them. His eyes settled on Tim. “Are you-”

“Yes,” Tim said. “Please?”

As soon as Tim said the magic word, Bruce was by their side, taking his clothes off. Jason groaned in victory. He grinned against Tim’s cheek. “Now we can have some real fun.”

[hornytome]

Hello everyone!! Finally time for an update. I’ve put it off because of nerves too long.

So, basically: I’m not a butch lesbian (anymore)! I’m actually bi and transmasc.

Shockingly, my girlfriend is no longer a femme lesbian either! She’s also bisexual. Still a girly girl though.

We both went through a parallel simultaneous journey of discovering we’re bi.

It’s as upsetting as it sounds!! Will not lie!

She calls me her boyfriend now and our sex revolves around penetrative sex. We have a realistic cock and I’m trying constantly to find a new more realistic one.

We haven’t actually slept with a man quite yet, though. We may never, to be honest.

There was… A guy… We both struggled immensely with our attraction to him, and our OCD played a large part in that. We both got over it and realized we definitely have a crush on him. That’s… simmering away right now. No idea where it’s going to go. He’s a good guy.

This has fundamentally changed our view of monogamy. We’re still prescribing to the concept of monogamy, and I suppose our rule is that if we’re both interested in the same person, then we don’t mind too much.

So, I guess I should explain why I was dragging my feet. Hornytome took off way more than I ever expected it to. I gained a massive wlw and lesbian following, and I’m so proud of who’ve I’ve brought together and modeled healthy love for.

For a long time, I identified as a lesbian, and that felt like my authentic self. I wasn’t lying to anyone, or misconstruing truths. In making this blog, I wished to explore my lesbianism. In living and growing beside this blog, I discovered a lot more.

So, to be very clear, I’m bisexual, transmasc, and a lot happier than when I started this blog. My attraction to women is gay, and my attraction to men is ALSO gay. Beat that!

That leaves me with a conundrum then. What to do with my blog? I’d love to keep posting, but a vast number of you are wlw. Perhaps I could stick to talking about Edith and I on this blog?

No matter what happens, this is no longer specifically a lesbian blog. And I’m sorry if that disappoints some of you. I really, really am. But being dishonest to myself helps no one. You haven’t lost a comrade, you gained one!

So. That’s why I’ve been gone! 6+ months of processing a major life change. I want to get back into stories. Maybe shoot me some ideas 🌝

Anyways! I’m going to be tagging this with old and new tags, just to reach as far as possible.

Edit: Also: stories will not revolve exclusively around men!! I like fucking my girlfriend a whole lot!

[lurkingshan]

Shan! After today’s episode of Only Friends, I have the feeling that I’ve lost a sense of the endgame of this series. I think I was under the impression — from the promos, the tweets, etc. — that we were going to get a summarily messy ending, with a whole bunch of toxic threads needing to be unwound. I’m intrigued by my thoughts on this — and maybe a touch concerned that we might end up getting morality stories out of this. By the time we roll around to an episode 10 or 11, what are your thoughts on a viewer not having a sense — not even of where the journey will end — but also of what the meaning of the journey was in the first place? I wonder if, in successful show construction, if I would have had a stronger and clearer sense of this earlier in the series?

Typically, we do have a strong sense of a show’s arc and narrative beats by this point in a story, but Only Friends specifically does not follow bl beats, so it’s always been a little bit its own beast. That said, it’s funny that you ask this now because after this week, I do feel like I have a sense of where this is going and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Namely, I am now fairly confident that we’re headed toward an ending with all three couples together and happyish, if not purely happy. The way this episode was structured to lead us into the final arc points to the end game conflicts—Boston and Nick figuring out where they stand on monogamy and distance, Mew deciding whether he can truly forgive Top, Ray trying rehab and Sand getting his head spun by Boeing—playing out next week, leaving the finale for resolutions and probably some kind of final word on this group of friends who barely seem to like each other.

I feel mixed about this suspicion because to me, happy endings all around doesn’t feel totally aligned with the spirit of this show and some of its themes. It feels a bit like the character arcs have been adjusted as we go, so that if you returned to the beginning and tried to draw a straight line to where we’re landing, it wouldn’t entirely track. But I’m also aware that this show has been unusually shaped by external forces like branded pairs and fan reactions.

In recent interviews the show’s creators, Jojo and Ninew, shared a few things that made a lot of this click for me:

Their original vision for this show was intended to be cast entirely with supporting actors and not bl pairs (this is why Neo and Mark were first in)

When they realized they were getting branded pairs they they were surprised and tweaked the characters and story to fit them (I’d bet money this rehab arc for Ray was added once they knew Khaotung was playing him)

Jojo allows the actors and their management to view their scenes (he said this specifically about sex scenes, but it may include others as well) and anything they are uncomfortable with doesn’t get put in the show

They have been tracking fan reactions closely and have incorporated those reactions into their final editing decisions (for example, removing a scene of Top hooking up with a random because people already hated him more than expected)

For me, all of this adds up to the conclusion that the show has in fact changed pretty significantly from their original vision, and those changes have been in the direction of a more conventional ending that will align with expectations for bls with branded pairs. In the end, branded pairs are a capitalist endeavor and they can’t let OF damage the brands. So while I do think the show has done more than any that came before it to push the boundaries of these constraints, they’re not going to be able to go all the way. The pairs need to end up in a good enough place that fans don’t want to burn GMMTV to the ground and the actors’ next projects are still set up for success.

So to your original question: I think the tension you’re feeling about the show’s overall point is a result of these changes creators are making as they bow to external forces. I personally think, given the constraints they are juggling, that they’ve still kept the story and its themes pretty legible, and some of the messaging is landing very consistently. But Only Friends is clearly not purely uncompromised art, it’s serving a lot of different needs and motivations.