#RELEASE FULL COVER CHALLENGE

[tote-bag-chic]

TEENAGE DREAM

[raven-dor]

you are my moonlight

In which gwayne hightower meets his future wife, and his timing is most unfortunate

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, young love, friends fighting, creepy viserys, horrible timing

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

AN: this could be read as a prequel to come back to me, but does NOT have to be read to understand any context!!

The tourney was in full swing, Y/N sitting eagerly on Rhaenyra’s left. The first two matches had finished rather similarly, with Sir Criston Cole being the winner. What the trio was actually waiting for was Prince Daemon’s match. It was all Rhaenyra had talked about for days and the fact that he’d gifted her a necklace of Valyrian steel, a rare and precious token that many in the realm could not afford. Of course, Rhaenyra and her family were the exception, as they were one of two of the only remaining High Valyrian houses left.  

The knights of the realm lined up before the Prince, the Master of Revels, announced the man himself. “Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent.” The prince rode down the line, inspecting each knight briefly. He quickly settled on Alicent’s brother, Ser Gwayne. “For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King.” 

Alicent grew restless, picking at the skin surrounding her fingers. Y/N wished she could comfort the auburn haired girl herself, but Rhaenyra grabbed her friend's hand quickly, stopping her from further injury. The two men lined up on their respective sides, racing towards each other. 

Ser Gwayne released the first blow to the shock of the stands. Y/N beamed, though she did not know why. She hardly knew the knight, only hearing of him through Alicent when she recalled her childhood. The second round was quick, and at the last second, Prince Daemon lowered his joust in front of the horse's legs, causing it to topple over, taking Ser Gwayne with it. She gasped, a hand covering her mouth. She mumbled, knowing Rhaenyra would not stand for any untoward talk of her uncle. “By the seven.”

Ser Gwayne did not move, and Alicent grew more anxious by the second. Y/N reached her hand out, grasping Alicent's briefly. “He will be alright, Alicent, I know it.” The squires lifted him from the ground, walking him over to the medicine tent. He would be transported later to the sept, Y/N assumed. She would have to visit him and keep him company while he recovered. 

Prince Daemon approached the Royal apartment, and Rhaenyra instantly approached her uncle. “Nicely done, Uncle.” Alicent and Y/N followed suit, still squeamish from the clearly immoral act.

“Thank you, Princess.” Daemon nodded his head. “Lady Y/N.” 

“My Prince.” 

He turned to Alicent. “Now, I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.” Alicent walked away, and Daemon smiled once more at the ward of the crown. “Next tourney, my lady, I shall ask you.” 

Y/N laughed. “I look forward to that day, my Prince.” 

Alicent returned swiftly, placing her favor on the Prince’s joust. “Good luck, my Prince.” The three girls sat down, waving at the crowd. The tourney had turned sour near after, with three fights breaking out, all ending in death. The knights, who had never seen battle, were bloodthirsty from what she could tell.

Y/N grew nauseous quickly, begging Rhaenyra for pardon so that she did not grow sick. Rushing out of the royal apartment, she decided to visit Ser Gwayne while she still had the nerve. The tent was quiet, with the exception of a few masters concocting ointments. Y/N peaked around the corner, coming face to face with Alicent’s brother. She curtsied, bowing her head. “My lord.” He tried to sit up, but she quickly stopped him. “Please, there is no need to further harm yourself.” 

He smiled gratefully. “I must ask for your forgiveness, my lady; I do not remember meeting you.” 

“I am Y/N of House Hawthorne. A ward of the crown and a friend of your sister’s.” 

“A pleasure, my lady.” He tilted his head. “Has she sent you here then?” 

“Alicent remains at the tourney. I-” She blushed, realizing how foolish it sounded. “I saw your joust, and I wanted to see that you were well. For Alicent’s sake.” 

He nodded, a smirk growing on his lips. “For Alicent, of course. I must say, I have not heard of House Hawthorne.” She smiled, sitting beside him.

“We are located in the Westerlands, my lord, and are sworn to House Lannister.” She looked closer at his wound, wincing. “Your wound looks rather agitated still. Would you mind if I-” 

He shook his head quickly. “Please. I would be most appreciative.” 

She stood, sneaking a cloth and an herb she knew caused numbing. Wrapping it carefully, she dipped the cloth in water, tapping it lightly on his skin. “This should numb the pain, for now, my lord. I’ve known this herb to speed the healing process along quite nicely.” 

He hummed, closing his eyes. “How did you become so well acquainted with such knowledge?” 

“My mother was a trained healer, my lord.” 

“Please call me Gwayne.” He peeked through his eyelids, giving her a kind smile. “You’ve all but earned it.” 

“Very well, my lo- Gwayne.” She nodded. “If I can call you by your name, it is only fair that you call me by mine.” 

He scoffed. “Hardly. That would be highly improper.” 

She raised an eyebrow, still delicately tapping the cloth. “Opposed to what you have asked of me?” 

He nodded, steadfast. “You are a lady. You should be addressed as such.” 

Dipping the cloth back in the water, she laughed. “Hardly.” 

“Using my own words against me.” He laughed back. “My, you are a wonder.” 

“Y/N?” 

She froze, turning around quickly. For some reason Y/N felt guilty, caught even. But seeing Alicent stand at the end of her brother’s bed, her face as pale as the winter snow, made the girl forget her worries. Y/N dropped the cloth in the bowl, rushing to Alicent’s side. “What is it? What’s happened?” 

“The Queen. She’s-” Alicent leaned closer, whispering in her friend's ear. “She’s dead.” Y/N gasped.

“I-” Y/N turned back to Gwayne, waving quickly. “It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, my lord.” The two girls rushed off, leaving the knight thoroughly confused. 

“Call me-” The girl was out of the tent before he could finish his sentence.

The funeral was a somber affair, as to be expected. Alicent and Y/N stood close by to Rhaenyra, staring at the covered bodies. Syrax, the Princess’s dragon, stood at the top of the hill, waiting for its orders. They stood in silence for the better part of an hour before Prince Daemon whispered in Rhaenyra’s ear, no doubt telling her that she would have to be the one to give the order. 

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine as her friend stepped forward, catching a sob. “D-” Rhaenyra took a deep breath, commanding her dragon. “Dracarys.” 

The yellow fury let out a great blast, effectively burning her mother and brother’s corpses. Rhaenyra turned away, unable to look at her deceased loved ones. Soon after, the crowd dissipated, leaving Rhaenyra, Y/N, and Alicent still standing by the sight. Y/N stayed back as Alicent approached their grieving friend.

“My lady.” 

Y/N turned, smiling lightly at the Hightower. “My lord.” 

“I believe last we met, I asked you to call me by my name.” He smirked. “Or am I mistaken?” 

She laughed quietly. “I believe the herb I applied made you hallucinate, my lord. You never said anything of the sort.” 

He laughed. “I’m sure you would never lie to me, so I shall take your word for it.” 

Y/N looked back at her friends, her heart aching. 

“She is an unlucky Princess,” Gwayne muttered. 

“Yes, indeed. Losing a parent is never easy.” 

“I am sorry.” Y/N turned back to the young knight, confusion etched on her face. “It is just- I assumed that with you being a ward of the crown-” 

“You would be correct. But it has been so long, I hardly remember what it was like to have parents.” 

He frowned. “That is horrible. I lost my own mother just a year ago.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she tried to ignore the shock that rang through her body. “It is never easy.” 

She shook her head, placing a hand delicately over his. “You are, unfortunately, correct.” 

A cough broke the pair apart, Y/N practically jumping at the interruption. “I could use some company on Dragonback.” Rhaenyra practically whispered. “Would you join me?” 

“Of course.” She turned back to Gwayne, curtsying quickly. “My lord.” 

The two girls walked up the hill, arm in arm. Alicent looked curiously at her brother. “What are you doing?” 

He whipped around, laughing at his sister. “Whatever do you mean?” 

“I only meant to say, you’ve taken a recent fascination in Y/N.” 

“Yes.” He nodded. “And your point?” 

Alicent smiled, shaking her head. “Merely a statement, brother.”

The palace gardens were in full bloom this time of year, and Y/N always found comfort in the little corner with a quaint fountain and an outlook of the ocean. Rhaenyra and she frequented this spot often in their youth, and Y/N needed respite from the high tensions at court. She’d been stuck on the same page for what seemed like hours when a voice broke through her focus. “We meet again.” Gwayne bowed his head, grinning much too widely. “My lady.” 

Y/N made no effort to stand, raising her eyebrows. “I am beginning to think, my lord, that you have been following me.” 

“Not that I am…” He started, sitting at the end of the cushioned chair that she occupied. “But if I was, it might have something to do with the fact that you are still not calling me by my name.” 

She laughed. “Is it that simple?” 

He nodded. “Quite. But do not worry yourself, I’ll wait.” His eyes sparkled. “My lady.” 

Y/N welcomed the challenge; she could sit there for hours, reading and ignoring the handsome knight. She glanced down at her book, ignoring his devilishly handsome smile. “You’ve read that page three times already.” She glared over the top, and he held his hands up in surrender, laughing. “Sorry.” 

She looked back down, flipping the page to prove a point. He sighed, standing and walking over to the daisies that bordered the fountain. Picking the fullest one he could find, he stopped in front of the girl, holding it out. “May I?” 

“I will not wilt at the sight of you because you are a lord.” She stood, closing her book. “I am not a flower like the thing you hold in your hand.” 

He nodded. “You are not.” He raised the daisy, tucking it behind her ear. “You are however, as pretty as one.” 

Her cheeks turned pink, and she murmured. “You flatter me, my lord.” 

“And why shouldn’t I? One should always flatter a beautiful woman when given the chance.” He smiled. “I believe calling me by my name shall suffice as thanks.” 

She scoffed, smacking his chest lightly. “You are quite confident, Gwayne.” 

“You’ll find-” He stopped, his smile brightening ten fold. “You said my name.” 

Y/N nodded, walking away. “I did.” 

He followed after, like a lost puppy. “What shall you do with the rest of your day, I wonder?” 

She shrugged. “I do not know, but it will most certainly be out of your presence.” 

He gasped, holding his chest. “You hurt my heart when you say such things.” 

She laughed, stopping and pretending to check him over. “However will you survive?” 

“I think it is terminal my lady.” 

“And what affliction have you caught, Ser Gwayne?” Y/N forced a giggle back, trying her hardest to behave seriously. 

“Lovesickness.” He sighed. “I’m afraid there is no cure.” 

She stepped closer, a pink dusting her cheeks. “I shall mourn you then.” 

“Well, I’m sure we could-” 

“Y/N!” 

Gwayne had never hated the Princess Rhaenyra more in his life than that moment. She was a generally tolerable girl, and a good friend to his sister, but in that moment she stood between him and you, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her to leave. He stepped away from you hesitantly, bowing quickly. “Princess.” 

The Targaryen made no effort to hide her humor at the situation. “I apoligize for the intrusion. Alicent and I were about to go to the Sept, and I did not want you to think we left you behind.” 

Y/N smiled brightly, waving disapointedly to the knight. “Feel better, my lord.”

Alicent tilted her head, yelling back at her brother. “Better? Are you quite well brother?”

Y/N yet again found herself in the gardens, but this time she was here for the soul purpose of seeing Gwayne. She wore her best dress, had her maid’s put her hair up intricately, and even applied some rouge. Not too much, she wouldn’t want people to think the wrong thing. She was a lady, as Gwayne never ceased to remind her. Sitting carefully on the cushioned chair, she positioned herself towards the entrance, waiting for the familiar mop of auburn hair to peek through. She’d begun to think he wouldn’t show when his familiar tenor broke through the tranquil silence. 

“My lady, I thought I would find you here.” She lowered the book, her stomach fluttering when his eyes widened slightly. “You look-” 

“Gwayne, I-” They both stopped, laughing at their ill timed words. “It seems that we cannot find a moment of peace.” 

He nodded, breaking the distance between them. “I have wanted to tell you something for quite some time now. I cannot seem to summon the words to leave me.” He laughed, but his nerves were evident. “It is just…” 

“Yes?” Y/N smiled, hating how nauseous she felt. 

“I wanted to say that-” 

A loud sob rang through the garden, pulling them out of their haze. Gwayne drew his sword, in case the sob resulted in any trouble. Y/N tried to round the corner before him, but he shook his head, leading her carefully through the hedges. 

“Rhaenyra?” Y/N quickly left her place behind Gwayne, rushing to her friends side. “Are you alright?” 

“She’s betrayed me. I cannot- I can’t-” The princess looked up, glaring at the knight. “Can we go some place else?” 

Y/N nodded, her face visibly disappointed. She walked Rhaenyra out of the gardens, sparing Gwayne one last look, mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry.’

The castle had been throw off it’s axis by the sudden shift within it’s walls. Rhaenyra was no longer speaking to Alicent, which meant Y/N was no longer speaking to Alicent, which meant that the once close knit group of friends were no longer a trio. 

It had been that way since they were children, almost ten years ago. Y/N not speaking to Alicent meant she could not speak to Gwayne, or so she assumed. She and Rhaenyra had not talked about it much since the day it was announced, always leaving a sour taste in the Princess’s mouth. 

Y/N just wished Rhaenyra could forgive her friend for something she had no control over. The Royal Wedding was tonight, and Rhaenyra had insisted that Y/N walk in with the princess, even though she wasn’t family. When Y/N brought this up, her friend scolded her, saying that ‘My father has insisted, I’m afraid. You are his ward, and he has grown to think of you as his own.’ 

Now, she sat beside Rhaenyra while the ceremony took place, sneaking glances at the brides brother. Rhaenyra had picked out Y/N's dress herself, saying that she needed something worthy of a princess. She was not one to argue and let the Princess do whatever she wanted as long as she was distracted from the day at hand.

Arm in arm with the Princess, she dreaded when they finally reached the hall and had to congratulate the ‘happy’ couple. Poor Alicent, married at fifteen, was not something she wished on her worst enemy. Especially to a man twenty years your senior. The doors opened wide, the crowd quieting at the sight of the princess and her companion. Among that crowd was Gwayne, staring at her with desperate eyes. 

Her cheeks turned pink, quickly breaking the contact. Chatter quickly filled the hall once more as Rhaenyra reached the top of the steps, curtsying quickly. “Congratulations, step-mother. Father.” 

Y/N shivered. Rhaenyra's tone was as cold as the Wall. She wanted to curse her friend for making her go after that display. She sunk to the floor, bowing her head. “Many happy returns, My Queen, My King.” 

Viserys smiled gratefully. “Thank you Y/N. You have been a loyal friend to my daughter and wife. I shall not forget it.” 

The young girl nodded, equally disgusted and horrified at what the king had just said. Surely he realized how immoral it was. “Of course Your Grace. I live to serve and provide assistance to my Princess.” 

She released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, sitting down beside Rhaenyra. “Could you at least have tried to be nice?” 

“I was.” The princess raised an eyebrow, and Y/N almost laughed, realizing her friend was being serious. 

“Of course. A jest, my lady.” 

Rhaenyra laughed. “So formal.” 

“We are at a wedding, Rhaenyra. It would be inappropriate for me to call you anything other than my lady, by the court's standards.” 

“Well I am the princess, and I say you call me Rhaenyra.” 

“Very well.” Y/N smiled, taking a large sip of her wine. “This will be an entertaining night.” 

Besides the occasional snide comment thrown at the obviously overwhelmed bride, the night had been otherwise peaceful. Y/N tried her best to sway Rhaenyra from attacking the queen outright, and she’d been successful. So far. She’d been in the middle of listening to Rhaenyra’s adventure of gathering the stolen dragon egg from her uncle when a cough interrupted. 

“Excuse me, Princess.” The pair turned around to see Gwayne staring at Y/N not Rhaenyra. Odd. He had addressed Rhaenyra, not her. “May I ask the Lady for a dance?” 

Y/N widened her eyes, looking in between the two. She was sure Rhaenyra would say no or burst out in flames from having to talk to Alicent’s brother, but she simply nodded her head, going back to her meal. Gwayne extended his hand, leading her to the dancefloor. He whispered as they moved, keeping in mind the intruding ears that surrounded them. “I have missed your company, my lady.” 

“I have missed yours as well.” 

“I know much has happened since we last spoke, but it has not deterred me. If anything, it has made me realize that I cannot stand to be apart from you.” Her cheeks turned pink for the second time that night. 

“You are very kind, Gwayne.” 

“Yes, well, it is not hard when you are the one I compliment.” He shook his head. “I am returning to Old Town soon. In two weeks time, after my sister settles into her new life.”

Her heart fell, eyes watering. “I hope your journey is swift.” She gulped, mumbling. “I shall miss you in truth.” 

He tilted his head, smiling. If she were not in a public place, she would admonish him for smiling at her pain. “What I mean to say is, I am infatuated with you. And I would like to seek your hand in marriage. From the king of course.” 

She gasped, her eyes widening. “I beg your pardon?” 

“I would like to marry you.” He spoke softly, now fully grinning. “If you would have me. You do not have to say yes, but I assure you, your affection for me will grow with time.”

“With time? Gwayne, I-” Y/N whispered so quietly she wasn’t even sure she’d spoken. “I have already grown to admire you. Much more than a friend should. That is no concern of mine.” 

“Ah.” The knight nodded. “Well, that settles it then.” 

“Settles what?” 

“We are to be married.” 

“Yes, well…” She sighed. “You cannot propose to me at your sister’s wedding. It would be improper.” 

“Damn impropriety.” He hissed, twirling you as the dance required. “Praytell, when would be a proper time then?” 

“Any other day, my love.” 

He stopped in the middle of the dance floor, her face growing red. “Gwayne people are looking.” 

He seemingly did not hear her. “My love.” 

“If you are going to tease me-” 

“You called me, my love.” 

“Gwayne…” She whined, gesturing to the prying eyes. “Can we please leave the floor? People will start to wonder…” 

“I desperately want to kiss you.” 

Thank the Seven the dance ended then. She bowed quickly. “Thank you for the dance, my lord.” Rushing back to her seat, she stared at the table, shock running through her veins. 

“Did he propose then?” 

Y/N whipped her head over, glaring at her friend. “You knew?” 

“Of course I knew. Y/N, I’ve known he was going to propose since I saw him approach you at my mother’s funeral.” 

“Rhaenyra, I’m so sorry.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“I don’t want you to feel betrayed. I had no intention of-” 

“Do not apoligize to me.” She placed her hand in Y/N's. “You are my friend. I am happy for you, truly. He is a good man, he will treat you well. I know it.”

“I haven’t said yes, Rhaenyra.” 

“Yet.” Her friend laughed. “You haven’t said yes, yet.”  

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Since the release of the 40th anniversary comics (and me finally getting my copy lol) I thought I’d share the old ideas I’d come up with for Big Mama’s Assistant way back in 2023 when I was doing a NaNoWriMo challenge with a friend!

I’m not the biggest fan of lost sibling plots, unfortunately, so I had decided to keep Big Mama’s Assistant as an episodic villain with a silly gimmick. Also just cause I wanted to shake things up a little bit lol.

Since Future Mikey has old man hair, I thought, what if that’s simply because of how similar the brothers are to kappa? So, this version of this character is a kappa herself, complete with the hair and the murderous intentions lol. Kappa have a little dish on their heads full of water that has to be kept hydrated otherwise they pass out, generally. Thus, a very dangerous villain with a penchant for silly hats that act as a simple win condition for fun fights!

I wanted her to look scrungly, as is common for characters in Rise which is something I love it for. Her general head shape I wanted to keep as similar to her hood and mask as possible so she doesn’t seem unrelated to her armored character design, and I kept her patterns low key as she wears clothing that’s covers it most of the time. Her name is Jennika, as Jennika uses claw weapons in some of her comic issues I’ve seen and so does BM’s Assistant in the show.

Anyways! This was just a fun version of this masked character I drew up for an story outline challenge with a friend, before I knew she was Frida! Since she’s been unmasked, I thought I’d share :)

[hyunesent]

. ۫𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪ SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

"The idea of exploring the beauty and complexity of the human body and physical connections wasn't uninteresting, and you couldn't think of a better person to do it with other than the one sitting next to you."

art student!hyunjin x art student!reader (afab)

chapter cw: pining, drinking, masturbation (m + f), depictions of oral sex (f receiving) and p in v sex, pre-cum eating. I honestly wanted to do a lot more in this chapter but I also want the slow burn ;p

Chapter 1: Beneath the surface

How could you not be entranced by him? Where the scent of paint thinner mingled with the whisper of the sound of paintbrushes on canvases, you found yourself drawn to the figure at the far easel; conveniently placed at a comfortable pining distance.

An unmistakable art style so different from your own paired with his sculpted features. His presence was an intricate masterpiece of quiet confidence and unspoken dreams. Each brushstroke he made, imbued with a natural fluidity, seemed to capture the essence of something ineffable, something you yearned to unravel.

Hyunjin was a study of classical beauty. Dark, expressive eyes, often framed by a fringe of soft, slightly tousled hair, and his lips, full and slightly pouted as he fully engrossed himself in his work. But of course, your admiration didn't halt at appreciation for his artistry. You couldn't help but cross your legs tighter when you caught a glimpse of his tongue resting between his lips in concentration, and your thoughts could not help but wonder how smooth it would feel against–

“I have already assigned you all partners for this conceptual art task you have been given, these have been chosen strategically so I want you to all challenge yourselves and each other to push your creative boundaries for this piece. Each pair will be given an abstract concept to interpret and express in three different mediums. The themes will be emailed to you separately this evening but for now, I will send you all the list of pairs so ensure you have means to contact them.”

You paid little mind to your professor's description of the task assigned to you but perked up while packing your stuff away at the last sentence. As you carefully slung your bag over your shoulder you felt the vibration in your pocket, clicking on the notification your eyes pulsed open with a mix of emotions when you saw your name next to Hyunjin’s.

Sure you were acquainted with him in class and had worked with him in group settings before but that was all at a comfortable distance where there was no need for the two of you to understand each other on a deeper level. Your excitement and anticipation transitioned into panic as a tall shadow covered you.

You look up and are greeted with a short yet soft smile from the man before you and are instantly weak in the knees. There was a moment where you were allowed to take in the way he looked so effortlessly perfect with his hair pulled out of his face with a hair tie and you had to stop yourself from frowning as he swiftly released it allowing his to fall to his collarbones as he raked his hands through it. He spoke so comfortably as the two of you walked side by side out of the building.

“Y/n I was wondering if you’re okay to start the project today we can meet after my shift? I’m honestly excited to do this assignment,” He looks at you and lets out a chuckled sigh “It seems so much more interesting than the last.”

You almost roll your eyes at the memory of the material studies essay that was due and it provokes Hyunjin's contagious laugh. The two of you light-heartedly complain as you reminisce about the sleepless nights spent on such an unfulfilling part of the course.

After a few minutes, you make it clear that you're more than happy to start the project tonight and he sweetly expresses gratitude before hastily saying goodbye to ensure he won't be late for work. You make your way to your dorm blissfully and in contrast to your usual bed rotting and doom-scrolling combo you get in the shower. Hours later your phone lights up several times.

Hyunjin: Just got back to my dorm, gonna shower and order food for us Hyunjin: be here in an hour? Hyunjin: and don't open the email with our theme!!! Hyunjin: let's do it together so we can brainstorm Hyunjin: see you soon :)

As you scroll down, the last notification catches your eye—an email from your professor. Smiling fondly at Hyunjin’s messages, you swipe the notification away. Biting your lip to silence a laugh, you can't help but notice how playful his demeanour is through text, a sharp contrast to the mysterious allure he maintains in person. Setting your phone aside, you put a little extra effort into your appearance, more than you usually would for a simple assignment, before making your way to his dorm.

When you arrived at your assignment partner's dorm, your heart pounded in sync with your tentative knock on the door. When Hyunjin opened it, his warm smile and lingering gaze made your pulse race.

Stepping inside, you were pleasantly surprised by the room's unexpected sensuality. Soft lighting bathed the space in a golden glow, while the scent of sandalwood and paint lingered in the air. Abstract paintings in Hyunjins distinctive style adorned the walls, each one more evocative than the last. You always knew Hyunjin enjoyed more provocative themes in class but this was different, more intimate.

Your eyes met again, and his gentle, lingering stares hinted at something unreadable, making you feel both exhilarated and at ease. As you settled in to get ready to work on your project, Hyunjin took your jacket from you and hung it next to his before coming back to where you were seated with two glasses of wine. You take it from him with a warm smile and a whispered thank you then take a sip before placing it down next to his.

“What do you think the theme is going to be?” he asked, his attentive eyes fixated on yours. “Not a clue,” you replied after a moment's thought. “I think it’s cool we’re all doing different themes, though. It'll be interesting to see everyone’s interpretations.”

He nodded in agreement before taking out his phone and unlocking it, positioning himself so you could see the screen. He spared you a glance, a silent plea that the theme assigned would be intriguing. As he opened the email and scrolled down, you read together, and the disparity between your synced reactions was almost comical. The Human Form and Intimacy. As you read those words, a blush crept up your cheeks, almost as if you had been found guilty of something. Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin’s eyes gleamed with something exhilarating.

“Oh my God, that’s so good!” he exclaimed, looking over at you with an uncontainable smile. You instinctively sat up straighter. “There’s so much we can do with this. I’m so excited.” You couldn’t help but feel a warmth seeing the genuine joy exuding from Hyunjin. His passion for his craft was truly admirable. In comparison, you were much more of a stay-inside-the-lines kind of person, not as outgoing or experimental with your art or your personal life. However, despite your initial hesitation, the idea of exploring the beauty and complexity of the human body and physical connections wasn't uninteresting. And you couldn't think of a better person to do it with than the one sitting next to you.

The room was quiet save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint scratching of pencils on paper. Hyunjin suggested the two of you brainstorm ideas and then feedback to each other. He sat comfortably at his desk, his posture relaxed and confident, while you fidgeted with your supplies. The theme of the assignment, "The Human Form and Intimacy," loomed large in your mind, casting a shadow of nervousness over your creativity. Hyunjin’s ease with the subject was palpable. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he began sketching and writing, effortlessly capturing the fluid grace of the human body in simplified forms and creating lists of ideas on what mediums could be used. You, on the other hand, found your hands trembling slightly as you tried to put pencil to paper. The suggestive nature of the theme felt almost too intimate and too revealing, and you struggled to express yourself without feeling exposed.

Sensing your discomfort, Hyunjin looked up from his work, his gaze softening. "You seem a bit nervous," he said gently, his voice a soothing murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "Are you okay with this theme?" You hesitated, biting your lip before nodding slowly. "I’ve never really done anything like this before. It feels…vulgar, almost. I’m not sure how to be open and expressive with something so personal."

Hyunjin listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze a comforting anchor. "I understand," he said softly. He did, sex and intimacy weren't something that he took lightly either and he understood why holding it in such high regard would cause a sense of conflict for a task like this. "It can be intimidating to delve into such intimate themes, but there’s a lot of beauty in it too. The human form, the connections we share, they’re all part of our most profound experiences."

He paused, then continued, his voice low and sincere, laced with a quiet intensity. "There’s something incredibly powerful about capturing those moments of vulnerability. It’s not just about intercourse; it’s about the raw, unfiltered connection between people. That’s what I find beautiful." With that, he reached for a sketchbook tucked away on his shelf, one he rarely showed to anyone. He silently handed it to you, so you opened it and saw page after page filled with sensual sketches, each one a masterful depiction of human bodies intertwined in moments of passion or singular bodies enjoying their own pleasure and tenderness. The drawings were explicit, yes, but there was a grace and elegance to them that transcended the vulgarity you had feared. Hyunjin’s eyes met yours as he explained, "These sketches are my way of exploring and celebrating intimacy. They’re meant to capture the beauty of those private, sacred moments."

You were taken aback, but also deeply intrigued. His perspective was so different from your own, and yet, you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Growing up, you were always taught to view sex as something simple and utilitarian, a straightforward act with a singular purpose. Your upbringing, steeped in traditional values, framed intimacy as a means to an end, devoid of nuance or emotion. However, as you grew older and moved out on your own, the world began to unfold in all its complexity. You found yourself exploring new ideas and experiences, each one peeling back layers of understanding. You discovered that sex could be a profound expression of love, a dance of trust, or a celebration of physical pleasure. It was a spectrum of emotions and connections, each encounter adding depth to your perception. Still, in spite of your own experiences, you couldn't deny how affected you were seeing the array of drawings in front of you.

Your cheeks and ears felt flushed as your eyes scanned over sketches of women and men indulging in self-pleasure, each figure rendered with exquisite detail and sensitivity. The scratches of his pencil conveyed a palpable sense of ecstasy, from the arch of a woman's back to the intense focus in a man's gaze as he explored his own pleasure. The sheets rustled softly as you turned them, your fingers trembling slightly, each new image a testament to Hyunjin's ability to capture the beauty and intensity of human desire. You could feel his intense gaze on you but the embarrassment you felt from it did not overtake your curiosity to keep turning the page. There was an undeniable attraction, an arousal even, in the way he spoke about and depicted sex and intimacy through his art. His passion was contagious, stirring something within you. Your heart pounded and a wetness collected in your underwear, unable to quell the surge of arousal these intimate. It was as if you could feel the passion emanating from the pages, each drawing tightening the feeling in your core and causing your pathetic attempt at clenching around nothing.

That did not go unnoticed. Too focused on calming yourself down you did not see the way Hyunjin’s eyes darkened. "I’ve always believed that art should make you feel something," he said, his voice a hushed whisper that seemed to wrap around you. "It should stir your soul, make your heart race. That’s what these drawings do for me. They’re not just about the physical act, but about the emotions behind it, the intimacy and trust."

You finally found the courage to look up at him and he almost gasped seeing your glossed over eyes. You felt a warmth spreading through you, a mix of admiration and a burgeoning desire to explore this new realm of expression. "I’ve always been afraid to push boundaries, to really let go," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. Hyunjin’s hand reached out, his thumb lightly brushing over the back of your hand in a gesture that was both reassuring and electrifying. "Art is about breaking those boundaries," he said softly. "It’s about being brave enough to express your true self, to explore the depths of your emotions."

You nodded, your eyes locked onto his, feeling a profound connection forming between you. "I want to try," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. His smile was warm and encouraging. "We can explore this together," he promised. His gaze loitered on you taking you in and feeling your genuinity. Hyunjin watched you with a mix of intense curiosity and restrained desire, the intimacy of the recent conversation hanging palpably between you. Your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and sensitivity made his pulse quicken.

He had been able to sense the subtle shift in your energy and posture, a silent admission of arousal that mirrored the growing tent in his pants. He felt a powerful urge to bridge the gap between your feelings, to show you the depths of his passion in a more tangible way. Yet, as the moment stretched on, he wrestled with his own impulses, determined to remain respectful and honour the delicate trust you had just begun to build. With a deep breath, he chose to focus on your shared journey of exploration and expression, channelling his desire into a mutual understanding rather than a physical advance.

As you continued to talk, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating possibility of what you could create together. The nervousness began to retreat, replaced by a growing curiosity and a need to understand Hyunjin’s perspective. You found a new sense of freedom, a permission to explore your creativity without fear. Hyunjin had gone to refill your glasses and the two of you had decided that the three mediums you would be using for this project were oil painting (hyunjin’s speciality), sculpting and photography. The alcohol prevented your mind from wandering too much about what that would entail so instead you spent the rest of the evening basking in each other's company trying to push aside any lingering thoughts.

The street lamps cast a warm glow on the quiet campus as Hyunjin and you strolled side by side. Your footsteps echoed softly against the brick buildings, a rhythmic soundtrack to your shared silence. The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of summer nights and possibility. Hyunjin glanced at the girl beside him, admiring how the golden light played across your features. Your brow furrowed slightly as you clutched your sketchbook to your chest, no doubt still pondering your art assignment. He longed to smooth away that tiny crease with his thumb, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his touch. "Thank you for walking me back," you murmured, breaking the silence. Your voice was low, almost reverent in the stillness of the night. Hyunjin's lips curved into a gentle smile, his own voice a rich timbre that seemed to resonate in the space between them. "I couldn't let you walk alone at this hour."

As you approached your dorm building, your pace slowed unconsciously, neither quite ready for the evening to end. Hyunjin's hand brushed against yours, a whisper of contact that sent electricity coursing through both your bodies. He heard your sharp intake of breath and felt his heart rate quicken in response. You came to a stop before the entrance, turning to face each other. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension. Hyunjin's gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, dark and luminous in the lamplight. "I had a lovely time tonight," you said softly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sketchbook. Hyunjin nodded, swallowing hard. "So did I. Your ideas for the project were inspiring."

You couldn't help but smile at that knowing how much of an inspiration he was to you. His hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered, tracing the delicate outline of your jaw. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief, exquisite moment.

When you opened them again, Hyunjin saw a flash of something primal in their depths – a hunger that mirrored his own. His hand lingered over yours, not willing to break the connection. At that moment, the air between them seemed charged with possibility. Hyunjin leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. You tilted your face up, your lips parting slightly in anticipation. But all too soon, realisation hit and you stepped back, breaking the spell, leaving you both breathless and aching. With a final, gentle squeeze of your hand, Hyunjin stepped back. You look at him wordless and it seems he caught on as he spoke for you.

"Goodnight," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Goodnight, Hyunjin," you replied, your voice trembling slightly as you turned and entered your dorm. As the door closed behind you, Hyunjin let out a shaky breath. He stood there for a moment, his mind replaying the evening, before slowly making his way back to his dorm. The walk back was a blur, Hyunjin's mind consumed by replaying every moment of your interaction. The soft brush of your arm against his as they walked, the way your eyes had widened when he'd touched your face, the barely audible catch in your breath. As soon as his door clicked shut behind him, Hyunjin leaned against it, his head falling back with a soft thud. The scent of your perfume clung to his clothes, a constant reminder of your closeness. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake off the intense arousal that had been building all evening.

Once inside your room, you leaned against the door, your heart pounding. The memory of Hyunjin's touch lingered on your skin, igniting a fire within you. Closing your eyes you imagined what might have happened if you’d been brave enough to kiss him. Hyunjin lay in his dorm bed, the dim light of the night sky seeping through his window, casting shadows that danced and flickered across his body. The memory of the evening lingered a heavy warmth that seemed to permeate everything. You had both held back, yearning to give in to your desires, but unable to find the courage to cross that final line. Now, as he lay there with his eyes closed, the pressure built within him. His hand drifted down his chest, fingers ghosting over the thin fabric of his shirt. He imagined your touch instead of his own, delicate yet curious, exploring the planes of his body. Hyunjin felt the throbbing need that had been building up inside him. He closed his eyes and thought of you, your body warm and inviting, gripping his hardness, guiding him inside you

In a room not too far from his, you laid in your bed, heart pounding in sync with his own. The memories of your evening together were just as fresh in your mind, and as you imagined his touch, your own arousal began to build once more, your body responding to his thoughts as if you were in the same room, touching each other. You ran your hand down your body, skin tingling from the friction of your fingers against you. Your thoughts were filled with the image of him, his bare chest rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. You visualized your body gliding over his, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss, your wet tongues exploring each other's mouths. When you reached between your legs, you felt a surge of desire for him, growing stronger with every stroke against your pussy. You imagined him between your legs, his face buried in your folds as he eagerly and desperately pleasured you. You could envision the intense focus in his eyes, his lips glistening with your arousal allowing him to taste his min rain with all the things he wanted to do to you; like you were his canvas waiting to be covered. Your breathing became more ragged, moans escaping your lips, hips arching off the bed as your hand worked faster and faster, seeking the release you craved.

Hyunjin's thoughts grew more intense, imagining you wet and aroused, your body yearning for his touch just as much as he longed for yours. His hand moved in a steady rhythm, his grip becoming more firm with each stroke. The sight of his own arousal, glistening in the dim light, was a tantalizing sight. The scent of sweat and arousal filled the air, musky and heady. His scent mixed with yours in his mind, creating an aroma that only fueled his desire. His lips were parted as he panted, his mouth dry and craving a taste. He imagined your lips on his, your dripping cunt. As his hand moved over his swollen tip, he could feel the stickiness of his desire. He brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick them in anticipation. He whined and bucked his hips up to the taste of his own pre-cum lingering on his tongue, salty and sweet. Yet he couldn't help but wonder what it would taste like mixed with yours.

He envisioned you climaxing beneath him, your body writhing in pleasure as he brought you to a shuddering, soul-shaking orgasm. The thought of your cries of ecstasy, the feel of your hot, wet core clenching around him, sent him over the edge. You imagined him cumming, his throbbing erection releasing its load deep within you, filling you, completing the connection you both craved. Your fingers slick with your arousal, were thrust inside yourself, your body responding to the fantasy as if it were your own touch that you needed. A hand came up to silence your loud whimpers. Your body convulsed, your orgasm taking over. Your body shook with the intensity of the climax. It was as if you could feel him inside you, your bodies moving in tandem, desires finally merging into a single, unified experience.

Hyunjin's orgasm was explosive, the rush of pleasure so intense that it felt as if every nerve ending in his body was alight. His climax crashed over him in waves parallel to the ropes of cum that landed on his stomach. He imagined you, your face scrunched in pleasure, your body locked in the throes of your release At that moment, miles apart, their highs intertwined as if they were physically touching each other. The heavy warmth of the emotions seeped into the air once more, leaving behind a memory that would never be forgotten. Hyunjin lay in his dorm bed, still trembling from the intensity of his release. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. They might not have crossed the line that night, but the connection they had built was undeniable, and the desire that burned between them was only just beginning.

𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: This is a work of fiction not a portrayal of anyone in real life. THIS TOOK SO LONG TO POST. I'm excited to continue this series, I have a few ideas for the smut and how it will link to the mediums chosen. I think the sculpting will be my favourite to write. I also really want to develop Hyunjin's character a lot in this so stay tuned for that Likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Happy reading .ᐟ

[felassan]

John Epler in the BioWare Discord (August 7th, again) -

User: "Since the dialogue wheel is coming back, will our choices set our Rook as diplomatic/humorous/aggressive with varying tone and voice lines similar to Hawke being able to be blue/purple/red?" John: "Not to the same degree - we want to give you the freedom to play your Rook differently depending on who they're talking to (you might be kinder to your companions and brusque with authority figures, for example), but your tone choices will have an impact within a conversation and, sometimes, with specific characters across multiple conversations." --- User: "I have to ask: how muscular can we make the elves?" John: "Reasonably so. You won't be making any massive bodybuilders but like... Timothy Olyphant?" User: "As a follow up what about humans and qunari? Quite muscular a la arnold or big viking type? Or not so much that lvl?" John: "Larger lineages (Qunari, esp) are bigger by default so the upper bounds are going to be bigger, but for modeling and animation we did want to put some limits on it. But your Rook can look pretty reasonably muscled, regardless of lineage choice." --- User: "Are there any time-sensitive quests (in terms of gameplay time, that will fail automatically if not addressed in a timely manner), and if there are please tell me they're at least indicated as such in some way?" John: "There are quests that can go away and technically 'fail' if you don't address them - but, to be VERY clear, this is not an in-game timer, but rather as you progress the game's story forward. That said, we do try to sign post them as much as possible." --- User: "Does Rook ever get the choice to cuss?" John: "Yes. You'll know when you're doing it, and we leave it up to you to make the choice, but sometimes, cursing is exactly what the situation demands."

[character limit text break!]

User: "Does the bioware team read the other channels and if so do they think we're unhinged or endearing?" John: "Little of column A, little of column B. But I mean, I've been online for 27 years, the internet has ruined me as much as anyone." --- User: "all the Rooks we've seen so far are wearing purple, please tell me we dont have to wear purple" John: "Everyone else can wear whatever colour they want but you, specifically, must always wear purple." --- User: "All the games have had unique faction symbols for our protagonist (Warden, Champion of Kirkwall, Inquisition) I assume there will be one for the Veilguard Will the symbol for it get released before the game or is this something that will be revealed in-game/after it’s launched?" John: "Every faction has their own symbol - including the Veilguard themselves! You may have noticed it in some of the art out there." --- John: "As a general comment - one thing I want to be super clear on - even as creative director there are things I can say, and things we're not ready to talk about. I'd rather spend my time answering what I can instead of a dozen 'sorry I can't talk about that yet' - especially since this channel is on slow mode." --- User: "There are blood effects in combat after Rook hits an enemy. And I think a developer shared images of the blood effects on hit after the reveal. Will characters be covered in blood or other environmental effects? Like getting wet from walking in puddles or muddy from running on dirt?" John: "There are environmental effects that persist on characters, depending on the environment you're traversing. They're subtle, but they're there!" --- User: "how many tattoos can we choose from? are there also full bodied ones too?" John: "I don't know the exact number, but there are quite a few. Some are full body as well, though you have control over colours and opacity on a more granular basis."

[character limit text break!]

User: "Of the zones/areas revealed what was the most challenging to design?" John: "Each has its own unique challenges. Arlathan seems simple because - well, it's a forest, right? But what about Arlathan makes it different than places you've been before? How does it fit into the established lore? Minrathous is a different kettle of fish because we've talked about it extensively and in a way that meant it HAD to be grander and more impressive than anything we've built before, which can be a tall order. The team did a fantastic job on all the areas, though." --- User: "which faction has the best fashion, in your opinion?" John: "Crows. Largely because 'black leather and feathers' isn't a look I could pull off in the real world but I am glad my Rook can." --- John: "Alright folks. I've gotta head back to work, but please keep asking questions and I'll answer what I can as soon as I can!"

[source: the official BioWare Discord]

There was also this question and answer:

User: "Can we name our saves like in Origins?" John: "I had to double check because I was about 95% sure on the answer, but also, I've been on this project for its entirety and sometimes I remember features that we had to cut (or never actually built) - yes. You can name your saves to reduce confusion."

but the answer may have now been deleted.

[loveindefinitely]

— ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ THREE OF HEARTS | könig x ghost x reader

✩ PART ONE / ACE OF SPADES

// read on ao3. fic playlist. series masterlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You can still taste the smoke on your lips.

The flavour of tobacco against your tongue, the spiralling smoke brushing your cheek. A hand in your hair, another between your thighs. One strong chest pressed against your own, the other laid onto the sheets between your legs.

A name spoken against your ear, another whisper muffled by your thighs.

Torture, in its rawest of forms – malicious and cruel and perfect. An agonising taunt of what could be, if not for regulations, rules; decorum and practicality. Right and wrong.

It had been two years since you’d seen the men that starred in your darkest of fantasies. Or, more precisely, six-hundred and thirty-eight days since you’d tasted them, breathed in the strong scent of their cologne.

But you weren’t counting.

You wouldn’t dare.

…Still.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, you’d spent, longing and hoping and dreaming of another moment. A possibility to be embraced, once more, by them. Even just a minute of their time, to speak, to ask if they felt the same instant connection you had.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days of waiting for this very moment.

“Sergeant, I’m sure you’re at least aware of Colonel König and Lieutenant Ghost,” your Commander speaks, elbows resting on his desk, hands folded underneath his chin as he studies you.

Your mouth is barren of moisture, all of it draining straight to where your clasped hands grow clammy in your lap. Without a word, you nod. Your Commander doesn’t comment, but his eyes narrow, and he releases a short exhale.

The room feels so small, now, his office like your own personal prison cell. Walls a fading beige, the seat beneath you a cracking leather – the stench of old paperwork. It’s a challenge not to cough from the dust.

“And I know that you’re well aware of your upcoming mission. Tomorrow, correct?” He asks, flipping through the stapled stack of paper before him, tongue peaking out to lick over his thumb as he skims over the fineprint. 

You nod once more, eyes nervously darting around the enclosed space. No windows? Seriously?

“You’re a smart woman,” he observes, with a small shrug of his shoulders, eyeing you curiously. “I think you know what I’m implying.”

The contracted mission, which had once been an infiltration, targeted approach, has turned into a long-term undercover one overnight. In fact, you hadn’t been informed of the drastic change until ten minutes ago.

Neither had you been informed of the two soldiers you’d be working with.

You didn’t know if you’d ever regretted something this deeply.

Ever.

“I don’t even know the details, let alone my cover,” you begin, fidgeting with the hem of your civvies tank, “Isn’t this CIA shit, anyways? Why are we –”

“You know damn well why we need you three on this, and not just any agent,” Your Commander raises an unimpressed brow, and you slump further into your chair. He’s right, of course, but it doesn’t mean that it makes you feel any better.

The layers within this mission were nearly impossible to decipher.

A foreign terrorist – one growing a steady following within political groups and extremists – was pulling the strings of one of the most exclusive and profitable trafficking rings in the world. And he was doing it right underneath the public’s noses.

What the cover was hadn’t been known – until this morning.

“Read it yourself,” your Commander breathes exasperatedly, and with that tone, you know it’s not going to be pretty.

Tossing the paper over to your side of the desk, it skids to a soft stop right at the edge.

Flitting your gaze to the front page, your stomach sinks.

There, in printed, full colour – is them. They look unbelievably imposing, with their uniforms, and their masked faces.

You knew what was hidden beneath that black fabric.

The images aren’t the only thing to catch your abrupt attention, however, your focus instantly snatching on the cover stories. The… 

Oh. Fuck.

“Commander –”

He instantly raises a palm, and you bite your tongue, hesitantly reading the text from start to end. It doesn’t make the situation any better; somehow, it makes it worse – tenfold.

You speak before you can stop yourself.

“BDSM?” 

If all the blood has drained from your face, you’d be lucky to die on the spot. Because, truly, you can’t think of a better option. A bullet to the head, maybe? Arsenic in the water sat next to the contract?

Yeah. Anything is better than whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be doing tomorrow.

And for the indefinite future.

“I know that it’s impractical,” he tries to amend, obviously seeing the pure distraught written all over your features, “But it’s our safest bet. There’s thousands – millions of lives on the line here. And I’m sure you’re not alone in your… hesitation, either.”

Chewing at your inner cheek, you nervously skim over the rest of the information, before skidding it back over to your Commander, running a hand down your face.

“I have to pretend,” you inhale, deep, “To be in a kinky throuple.” 

With the men who you’d done ‘kinky throuple’ shit with, went unsaid.

The man across from you winces. But he doesn’t deny it.

“That’s…” He seems to search for words, but comes out empty. He clears his throat. “Yeah. That’s… That’s pretty much. The cover story.”

He sounds highly uncomfortable with the topic at hand, but with sweat beading at the nape of your neck, and your mind reeling, you can’t find it in yourself to have any empathy. At least he didn’t have to infiltrate a fucking sex club.

Flashes of bare skin, scarred jaws, calloused hands –

“When’s the briefing?” 

The words fall from your lips in a breath, your subconscious need for information being set to default while the rest of your brain tries to play catch-up.

Looking down at the bulky, gluttonously gold watch adorning his wrist, your Commander grimaces, before looking back up to you with an apologetic frown. “It’s in five minutes. This morning’s been a rush, sorry, kid.”

Rising from your seat on unsteady legs, you accept your own copy of the papers with shaky hands. If your Commander notices the trembling, he doesn’t comment on it.

They feel heavier than any weight, the words in your hands – the words bearing down on your soul.

Attempting to make sense of it all is a fruitless effort, and trying to reason with it is just as impossible. How could you? When this undercover mission was likely going to be the most difficult one of your life? Was this the universe’s form of a taunt, a punishment?

Your Commander opens the door for you, the soft draft of the hallway allowing you to breathe. 

The stifled, stale air of his office gives way, and your shoulders loosen slightly from the tight posture they were in. Maybe everything will be fine. You won’t be in a fake relationship with the men who you had a relationship with, however short-lived, to stop a world-class terrorist.

…Totally.

Following your Commander tightly behind him, your mind a hurricane of emotions and anxiety, you chew at the inside of your cheek as you rack your thoughts for any sense of direction.

You, inevitably, come up empty.

Boots hitting the linoleum floor swiftly, the sound echoing around the empty space, you release short, calming breaths. Realistically speaking, this wasn’t going to be the cause of your death – you were a professional. You were one of the most skilled coveted ops agents for-hire, and what was this but just another aspect of your job?

Maybe this was exactly what you’d been hoping for – a real, substantial opportunity.

Maybe they’ve both forgotten you.

Your breath hitches at that thought.

It takes root in your mind instantly. What’s making you believe that they care, in the slightest, for you? What makes you think that one night of lustful desires could hold a flame to a proper relationship?

What if you were just that – one night? Nothing more of importance, or worth, to them?

“C’mon, kid,” Your Commander claps a comforting hand onto your shoulder, near dragging you into the briefing room. 

You’re just grateful that he takes your hesitation as an uneasiness about the cover story, and not the men you’ll have to execute it with. …Although, the cover story isn’t exactly a breeze, either, König and Ghost aside.

The air-conditioned meeting room feels like ice against your heated skin, the door closing behind both you and your Commander as he goes to take a seat at the head of the table, beside a woman of whom you haven’t seen before. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a short ponytail, a classic button-up adorning her torso as she flips through the files in front of her. 

When she looks up, she greets your Commander with a short nod, before giving one to you, too.

Other than her, the room is empty – and checking the decade-old clock on the wall, it seems like there’s only a minute until the official starting time.

Choosing the safest bet, a chair to the left of the elongated, wooden table, you sit in the middle. It feels like the best choice – not too close to the Commanders or any Chiefs.

You aren’t new to the concept of briefings; in fact, you’d likely been involved in more than any of the Sergeants you knew. 

Being an expert in the field of undercover and intelligence-based operations means that you attended more meetings than, say, an explosives expert. You have to know the smallest details; discuss them and pick them apart, add your own two cents.

Intelligence is something you pride yourself on – you break most stereotypes about the military, all in one go, and you aren’t ashamed of that. Book smart, progressive; a woman. 

It never fails to make you smile internally, the second-glances from the withering old men that held authority within your ranks. While you deal with the drawbacks every second you work, there are some benefits, you suppose.

The cushioned meeting chair is comfortable where you’re seated, hands folded dutifully in your lap as you await everyone else’s arrival.

Their arrival.

Door creaking open, your heart skips a beat in your chest as you instantly dart your gaze up.

You most definitely do not deflate when you see one of your Lieutenants walk in, instead of a specific one from the Task Force. …Or a six-foot-ten Colonel.

The logistics of this mission must’ve been insane to sort out. While KorTac and SpecGru are formally enemies, and actively enemies, too, there are under-the-table deals and trades made between the two behind closed doors.

This must be a prime example of such a decision.

König and Ghost – from those few hours you’d spent with them – had been amicable. That was putting it lightly; they definitely shared a few secretive, heated looks, even a kiss and a few strokes, too.

Maybe the whole forbidden thing was even more intense, for them? Being so explicitly enemies?

You weren’t exactly sure – still aren’t.

None of it makes any sense, which is a debilitating feeling, for someone who needs to know everything at all times. As best as you can, anyways.

Taking the spot directly in front of you, your Lieutenant gives you a kind smile. You easily reciprocate, even with your anxiety heightened, your thighs squeezing together underneath the shadows of the table.

The overhead lights are a harsh, grating white, and you feel a pounding headache incoming.

Your Commander and the woman seem to be engaging in a quick, near-silent conversation at the head of the table. They swap some papers around, narrow their gazes, raise brows. They’re… hostile, but not unbearably so – amicable enough not to cause a fight.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The world doesn’t stop, time doesn’t freeze, but it’s a close thing with the way your heart stutters in your chest, your breath cutting off with your last inhale.

At the door, fist still raised, deep blue eyes and a sniper hood meet your startled gaze. The man’s eyes soften immediately when they catch onto yours, the greasepaint smeared around them doing nothing to hide the instant spark that lights within them.

He is, you distantly think, as breathtaking as you remembered him to be.

The top of his head is hidden behind the door frame, his height palpable even within the excessively tall roof of the building. His posture allows him to curl into himself, even with his fist still raised.

“We late?”

And –

Oh.

Oh.

König’s unbelievably large frame had taken the spotlight – but that wasn’t to say that the other man was any dimmer in your eyes.

Ghost. True to his name, his voice is a rough drawl, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest as his eyes dart around the room, before landing on…

You.

He doesn’t flinch; his expression doesn’t change in the slightest, actually, not even a hint of recognition in his dusky brown eyes. Just cold indifference, this side of disgruntled.

As if you’ve been frozen in time, you struggle to think, let alone breathe – like your life has been suddenly set to manual. With a quick jerk of a movement, you let your eyes zone out onto the mahogany in front of you.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – just in time,” the woman speaks succinctly, folding one leg over the other as she finally looks away from your Commander to gesture the two in.

Oh, what you wouldn’t give for a moment to process. To figure out the battlefield that is your head, and decide on your next actions – your feelings, too, the emotions of it all.

“Good to see you two haven’t killed each other yet!” Your Commander laughs, jovial, and you want to bang your head onto the table.

“...We are professionals.”

That Austrian accent – the thick, headiness of it, the lilt, the gentle tone – it’s one as familiar as your own. One that’s played in your mind, a constant, the memory of it spoken against your heated skin both a blessing and a curse.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, it had been.

“At killing.”

You can hear the side-eye, the bored tone, the guttural raspiness reminiscent of his hometown. The sarcasm, too, a core part of the very man’s existence.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days.

Your Commander is the only person in the room who laughs, clasping his hands together before waving the two over to join at the table. Looking up, for a split second, you nearly deflate when his eyes catch onto yours. The glint in them says everything you need to know.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – let me introduce you to Sergeant Star,” your Commander gestures towards you, and really, would melting into the floor be so bad?

Ghost raises a single brow, and your Lieutenant runs with it.

“Funny story, that,” he starts, and you barely restrain yourself from burying your head in your hands, “First mission. She somehow figures out who was sending the false intel for a case, and dismantled the whole bloody plan, made a new one. She was spot on, too.”

His smile turns shiteating as he leans further back into his chair, folding his hands over his chest. 

“When we got back onto base, Commander over there gave her a gold star for her troubles. Pretty good tradeoff, aye?”

“Leo,” you mutter under your breath, delivering your superior a vicious glare. 

Your Lieutenant – Leo – was more of an annoying older brother than anything else. Since that mission, he’d taken you under his wing; protected you like his own, too. He was a dickhead, but a solid one that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Even when he pulls shit like this.

“That’s…” König folds into himself further, if that’s at all possible, as he looks to Leo. “Impressive. Very good.”

Ghost doesn’t say a word, instead, moving to sit in the chair next to your Lieutenant, and opposite you. König quickly follows his lead, sitting to your left with rough movements. A man of his size – to be graceful with anything was something of a miracle.

He’d been graceful when his hand had wrapped around your neck –

“Now that everyone’s here,” the woman cuts in, moving to stand and turn on the TV sat between her and your Commander, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The show is multiple images of the targets, some of the women that have been kidnapped, reports, and other important information. You catalogue it all, playing close attention to the names and circumstances of both the victims and the targets.

It’s going smoothly, until –

“The rules,” the woman whose name you’ve learnt is Laswell speaks, flicking to the next slide. Your stomach drops for a reason other than the two men sat at the table when you read its contents.

Rule One: Explicit consent must be given between pre-established partners, or any new partners if a scene is wished to be done.

Rule Two: Masks must be worn at all times, with safe alternatives if oral play is wish to be done.

Rule Three: A person’s inclination [Dominant, Verse, Submissive] must be displayed on a corresponding armband, which will be supplied at entry.

Rule Four: Access to the basement level may not be granted to anyone, unless a verification and acceptance process has been executed. No exclusions apply.

Rule Five: Submissives with a Dominant(s) must stay within eyesight at all times, unless a collar has been placed onto the Submissive marking ownership.

It feels as though someone’s scrambled the contents of your brain in an attempt to destroy your very essence – and your stomach feels as hollow as your heart as Laswell reads off the words on screen. She doesn’t falter once, unlike you, knuckles whitening against the tight fists forming in your lap.

König, nor Ghost, react outwardly. No hint of hesitance or uneasiness, just taking their professionalism in stride.

You feel like a fool.

“Ghost will be acting as the Dominant, König the Verse, and Star the Submissive,” Laswell states, matter-of-fact, as if your world didn’t start crumbling around you the moment you’d been called into your Commander’s office.

If you were at all in a state to laugh, you’d probably giggle at how suitable the roles are. They all aligned to That Night, and a distant part of you wonders if the three of you were just obvious with your tastes.

“We’ve rented an apartment four blocks away. When you start to inquire about the basement,” she flicks to the next slide once more, “They will follow you. Expect to have a shadow everywhere you go – and one that you don’t know is there, obvious or not.”

“You guys aren’t good people, as of tomorrow,” Your Commander chimes in, leaning forward on the table, looking between both König and Ghost. “You are interested in their side business, and Star,” he looks to you, “Is none the wiser. This only works if you follow through with that – and offer up her services as collateral.”

“You want us to pretend,” König shakes his head, looking dismayed, “To give the Sergeant to the ring?”

Silence.

And, then, “Yes.”

You were made aware, earlier, of course, that your role was going to be slightly different to that of the other two men. But you hadn’t actually expected something so… fucked.

“If this goes sideways –” Ghost speaks up, voice deep and raspy as his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, visible even with his mask, “ –We’re risking ‘er life.”

“I know what I signed up for,” you respond, finding your voice, however weak. “This is no different to a warzone. Just with less explosions, and more…” You struggle to find the words, “Mind games. Tactics are changing from bullets to rumours.”

He doesn’t try to debate it, just merely shrugs indifferently and slides his smooth gaze back over to the two at the front.

As if he hadn’t felt you cum around his cock; heard you moan his name while he left bites over your neck.

Bastard.

The meeting goes on much the same, with more information on the plan as a whole. It makes sense, to you, and you know that you’ll be able to get it done.

König and Ghost, however, that haunting spectre that was them, feel like a road block.

Ghost, from what you had gathered, was either ignoring your existence for some selfish reason, or had completely forgotten about That Night.

You simultaneously find it hard to believe that your time together was that forgettable, and that it was truly something special. It has, after all, been six-hundred and thirty-eight days. Maybe he was used to such intimacy, although you find it hard to believe, it is a possibility.

Then, there’s König – his eyes, the way he almost reeled back at the sight of you, told you enough.

He remembered. Clear as day.

But whether or not he cares at all, or wants to discuss your past at all, is a whole other story. Maybe he just wants to brush it under the rug, forget it ever happened, and move on.

As much as one could move on when pretending to be in a relationship, that is.

“You will head to your apartment by eighteen-hundred, tomorrow night, and get yourselves situated. The club opens at nineteen-hundred, so an hour or so after that is reasonable,” Laswell says, finishing off on the debrief.

Her eyes find all of you.

“There’s a lot riding on this. This isn’t like any mission any of you have executed before – but we have faith that you will execute this with precision and care.”

The words sit in your soul like a reminder; a way of steering you the right direction.

A few words are exchanged after that, some questions, some answers. Leo will be serving as your operator, in charge of communications and resources for the mission. At the back of your mind, you’re grateful for the distant support of your Lieutenant.

It’s when everything’s wrapped up, and you’re falling back as everyone files out of the room, that a presence behind you has you freezing up.

Ghost.

“If you’re not up for the mission, just say so instead of draggin’ us down,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear the grain of his low, impatient voice. “This is important, Sergeant, and if your head is elsewhere –”

“You don’t remember?” Your voice comes out tight, impatient, upset. 

His shoulder checks yours as he passes.

“What’s there to remember?”

taglist. @thegreyjoyed @hayleybarnesx

[slayfics]

Hey!! I love your writing style and how Canon the characters are! So I was wondering if you could make something similar to "muchiro uses your attraction to him against you in training" but with inosuke?<33

Inosuke uses your attraction for him against you in training.

Warnings: NSFW themes | Inosuke aged up

A breeze gently passed by causing the birds to chirp, and butterflies you were eyeing to spread their wings. It was nice to sit down and enjoy the slowness of the moment for a bit. However, the tranquil scene was quickly disrupted by a booming voice that caused the birds to scatter and the butterflies to flutter away.

"HEY, YOU! FIGHT ME!" The voice yelled. You didn't need to turn around to know who was challenging you.

"Hello, to you too Inosuke," You said playfully.

"COME ON YOU ARE JUST SITTING THERE! LET'S TRAIN!" He proposed. As much as you wanted to continue relaxing, a tug in your chest encouraged you to seize the opportunity to spend more time with the hot-headed demon slayer. Even if it was just training. After all, that seemed to be the only thing Inosuke ever wanted to do other than eat.

Two more demon slayers joined behind Inosuke. "Inosuke can't you see they are trying to relax," Tanjiro interjected.

"Yeah we just got done training too aren't you tired?" Zenitsu asked.

"NO! I'm not weak like you!" Inosuke said, placing his hands on his sides and puffing out his chest.

You laughed at the demon slayer's cockiness "It's fine we can fight, but if I win you have to sit here with me and watch the birds." You proposed.

"SURE WHATEVER. As if I'd lose to you anyway." He said with what you imagined was a wide grin under his mask.

You stood up to face the demon slayer and he wasted no time coming at you with full force. You quickly dodged to the side moving out of the way of Inosuke's attack causing only his shoulder to brush against you. The brief brush up against the demon slayer caused your heart to flutter.

It was just a moment but Inosuke's quick instincts caught on to the change that happened when he made contact with you. Your breathing changed, cheeks reddened, and movements slowed just the slightest. He understood he could use this to his advantage.

You spun around ready to block his next attack but an attack didn't come. Instead of an attack, Insouke dropped his swords, ran toward you, and reached out to grab both of your breasts.

Your eyes shot wide open and your heart stopped. A squeak escaped your lips as a bright blush ignited on your face. Did Inosuke really just cop a feel??

"INOSUKE!" Tanjiro yelled at the demon slayer furiously.

Insouke took advantage of your paralysis and quickly pinned you to the floor and straddled you.

"HAHAHA! I TOLD YOU I WOULDN'T LOSE!" He said, bouncing on top of you.

"INOSUKE STOP!" Tanjiro yelled and began to run over with Zenitsu.

Inosuke continued to laugh basking in his victory. Meanwhile, you were seeing stars as the situation was too much for you to handle. Embarrassed, you struggled to get your hands free from under Inosuke desperate to cover your flustered face.

Tanjiro and Zenitsu pulled at the feral demon slayer to try and release him but he took it as a challenge and fought back even harder.

Mphf~ 

Finally, your hands broke free and you swiftly covered your face as the struggle between the three boys was now causing Inosuke to further bounce and push against you.

"It's fine Tanjiro~" You mumbled desperately to stop the interaction before you lost all self-control.

"YOU REALLY ARE AN IDIOT YOU KNOW THAT!" Zenitsu yelled while grabbing Inosuke's mask from his head and running away. Another squeak escaped your lips at the sight of the demon slayer's face. It was no secret to anyone how attractive Inosuke was under his mask.

Finally, Inosuke got up off of you, only to chase down Zenitsu for his mask.

"I apologize for Inosuke, are you alright?" Tanjiro said, looking down at you. It was then he noticed how flustered you were from the whole event "Oh.. hum..." He said whistling and looking away to give you privacy.

"I am more than alright~" You replied in a daze, still lying down needing a moment to catch your breath.

Thank you for the request! I haven’t written for Inosuke in a long time but I immediately saw this scene unfold when I read your request and knew I had to make it a reality. I’m sorry if this isn’t as steamy as you would have liked, but I hope you enjoy it none the less.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Something Worth Remembering

Summary: You were hopeful that you’d be moved into your new house before Christmas, but after another renovation delay, that’s not in the cards. To your credit, you make the most of the situation, and Bradley falls in love with you even more because of it. But he’s determined to make your first Christmas together special, and sets out to plan a surprise that ensures the holiday will be one both of you will always remember. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)  

(can be read as Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin from RYEWID, but not necessary to read that first)

Word Count: 3.7K 

Warnings: Warm fuzzy Hallmark feelings. Language. Allusions to smut. 

Notes: Some holiday action for my faves. Written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Challenge with the prompt "home for the holidays”. Also as part of The Forgotten Moments Collection, but can very much be read by itself. 

—---

____

Bradley stopped short when he walked through the front door, eyes widening as he took in the scene in front of him. 

“Um…Pumpkin?” 

“You’re home!” 

You popped up so suddenly from the other side of the counter in the kitchen that he jumped slightly in surprise. “Am I?” he asked slowly, closing the door behind him and bending down to unlace and take off his boots. You laughed brightly as you stepped around some of the shopping bags on the floor to get to him. He accepted the kiss from you eagerly, feeling the stress from another work day dissipate as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Contractors called,” you told him once you pulled back, resting a hand on his chest. Your ring sparkled in the light streaming in through the open curtains, and Bradley couldn’t help but smile before he registered the words. “There’s a delay with the electrician and the flooring.” 

Bradley groaned, the familiar annoyance of hearing the word “delay” coursing through him. The home the two of you had purchased was a fixer upper, tucked into the end of a cul de sac in a neighborhood not too far from base. There was work that needed to be done to make it everything you wanted, but neither of you had anticipated all the headaches that would come along with that. It would be a long project, you knew, but the contractor you had hired had promised it would at least be livable within the first few weeks. 

That had been nearly two months ago now, and the delays kept piling up. Barely anything had been done at this point, and he knew he’d have to call the administrative office tomorrow to extend the lease on the on-base apartment, again. 

“Of course there is.” 

You smiled gently, and Bradley couldn’t help but let some of the annoyance slip away at the soft look on your face. He took a deep breath and let himself relax, pressing a kiss to your forehead before releasing you. He gestured to the tiny apartment the Navy had provided you with, smaller than the shoebox you had called home back in DC, that definitely did not look like what it did when he left for work this morning. 

“Is that why it suddenly looks like Christmas threw up in here?” 

You threw your head back as you giggled. The sound caused a full blown smile to cross Bradley’s face, warming him from the inside out.

“I was holding out hope that we would be able to spend Christmas in our new house, even if it’s not finished. But since the electrician’s are delayed, the floor people can’t come until the 28th. So I decided to finally cave and decorate here instead. But I didn’t want to spend a bunch of money on nice decorations, because I want to save that for when we’re completely moved in next year.” 

“So…” 

“So I may or may not have bought out a good portion of the Dollar Tree Christmas aisle, and spent way too long deciding on white lights or multicolored lights for the $20 table top tree that I bought.” 

Bradley laughed loudly, looking around your temporary home once again. Red and green and gold covered the minimal available surfaces, and a small lopsided tree sat on the corner table in the living room, a bag of what he assumed to be decorations sitting beside it. Your cat, Florry, was curled up on top of a pile of bright green garland on the floor. 

"Who needs a fancy new house when we can have our own little tacky winter wonderland right here?"

Your eyes sparkled with delight as you spoke, clearly thrilled by the idea, or at least incredibly amused by it. Bradley knew that Christmas was your favorite holiday, and how much you loved the festive season. This would be the first one you ever spent together. When you had toured the house months ago, you had pointed out the perfect place for a tree and where certain decorations could go. You had been so excited to spend the holiday in your new home. As the delays started coming in you had adjusted just how grandiose your plans would be, but you had taken it in stride. Now you were only six days out from Christmas itself and you were once again just making the best of the situation that neither of you could control. 

Not for the first time, he wondered how he had gotten so lucky. 

"Alright, Pumpkin," he said, "Let me go change, and then I’ll help you make this the tackiest, most magical Christmas ever."

You grinned at him, a mischievous spark in your eyes. "Challenge accepted."

_____

The Dagger Squad had an impromptu and unofficial holiday party the next night at the Hard Deck, and it still blew Bradley away seeing you intermixed so perfectly with his friends, both old and new. You floated from conversation to conversation and when he wasn’t by your side, he watched you with a smile on his face. He knew you were perfect for him, but seeing you fitting in like this just reaffirmed it. 

“How’s the house coming along?” 

He looked over at Mav as he leant against the bar beside him, handing him a fresh beer. He was still getting used to being around his godfather after all this time, but they had settled into a peaceful kind of hesitancy as they relearned what it meant to be in the other’s life, and it was nice, even if Bradley had to remind himself to breathe sometimes. 

“Slowly.” 

His tone must have relayed how he was feeling because Mav shot him a sympathetic wince. “Another delay?” 

“Yup.” Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “They can’t get the electricians in until tomorrow, which is when the flooring was supposed to go in. So now that got pushed to after Christmas” 

Mav clasped a hand on Bradley's shoulder, offering a supportive squeeze. "It'll all come together eventually. How’s she taking it?” 

He snorted as he brought the drink to his lips, taking another sip. “She handles stress and shit like this better than anyone I know.” 

Mav smiled, nodding in what looked like approval. “You got yourself a good one.” 

Bradley hummed his agreement and let his eyes stray to you, chuckling softly when he saw you dancing with Nat. Sometime in the last few minutes, you had stolen the Santa hat that Coyote had arrived with, the red and white material perched on your head. You twirled around with his best friend to the Christmas song playing over the jukebox, laughing merrily. You really did love this time of year. 

You had told him that you didn’t care where you spent the holiday, so long as you were together. It was your first Christmas together, after all. But Bradley still felt guilty over not being able to get you into the house sooner. You had only been married for a few months, and you had given up your whole entire life to move out to California when he got permanently assigned here. It’s a decision you would make again and again, he knew, but he still wished there was something he could do, too. You had made far more sacrifices than he had. He wanted this holiday to be special. Memorable. 

You were just a little bit tipsy when you got back to the apartment that night. You had clung to Bradley’s arm with both of yours the whole way up to the third floor from the parking lot, but the moment you walk through the door, you’re releasing him to go plug in the tiny table top tree. You plug in the string lights lining the kitchen counters next, humming a christmas song he can’t quite place under your breath as you do. You turned to him once the space was illuminated, the soft golden glow highlighting your smile. 

“Pretty nice, huh? These cheap decorations aren’t so bad - I may just keep them for the new house, too.” 

Your ability to make the most of everything made his heart stutter. He was in front of you in only three quick strides, one hand landing on your hip while the other cupped your face. He bent to connect your lips in a kiss. He could still taste the peppermint from the candy cane you sucked on on the ride home, and the taste of the champagne Penny had broken out at the end of the night for a toast. You didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him and return the kiss, both of you getting so lost in it that by the time he pulled away, he was panting.

“You must really like the cheap decor,” you breathed, and Bradley huffed out a laugh at your joke. 

“I just really like you,” he quipped, and he enjoyed how a shiver went through your body at his response. 

As you changed into pajamas and settled on the couch together, an idea started forming in his head. He thought he might know just what to do to make this holiday memorable for you after all. 

_____

“Are you sure you don’t mind me running out for a bit?” you asked for what was probably the tenth time as you slid your sweater on over your head. Bradley groaned to himself as your body was covered from his view as he lounged in bed. He had been watching you get ready, enjoying not for the first time how getting dressed was almost always the last step in your process. 

“I’m positive,” he said, also for the tenth time. You gave him a dubious look and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Pumpkin, I promise it’s okay.” 

“I know, but it’s our first Christmas Eve together!” 

Bradley moved so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his arms open. You stepped between his spread legs and let your hands rest on his shoulders as he looked up at you, squeezing your sides through your red sweater. “Technically, it’s Christmas Eve morning. And I think you getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife will be nice for you. You’ve been so busy with work and the move that you haven’t really had time to make friends.” 

“I was already friends with Nat.” 

He rolled his eyes at you fondly. “You know what I mean.” 

You sighed again, fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head in the way that always calmed him down, even when he wasn’t feeling stressed out. He thought maybe the motion soothed you, too. “I think it’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah,” you admitted slowly, nodding hesitantly. “I do too.” 

“Then go. Have fun. I’ll be here when you get back, and we’ll spend Christmas Eve together. The morning doesn’t count.” 

You snorted, but nodded nonetheless. He accepted the kiss you gave him right as your phone started ringing from the bedside table. Nat was there to pick you up, just like he had requested her to when he asked for her help with pulling off this surprise by getting you out of the apartment for a few hours today. 

He gave it ten minutes after you had left before he jumped up and started taking down all of the decorations you had strewn throughout the apartment. It was easy work considering how small the place was, only taking him a few trips to and from the Bronco. He grabbed the small tree last, carrying it delicately so that none of the ornaments fell off and wouldn’t have to be reconstructed. 

It didn’t take too long to get to the house at the end of the cul de sac that was now in both of your names, traffic light despite the holiday. He let himself in with the key that was still shiny with how new it was. He let out a sigh of relief when he flipped the switch and the overhead light in the living room actually turned on - with everything that had gone on, he wouldn’t have been all that surprised if it hadn’t. He made quick work of bringing in everything from the car, including the items that he had purchased and kept in the trunk without you seeing them this week. 

He knew he had limited time, as Nat could only commit to a few hours of keeping you distracted, but it would be more than enough with what he needed to do. His phone buzzed right as he was finishing up a little more than an hour later, your name flashing up at him.

Pumpkin🧡: Getting the check! Back soon❤️

He sent back a response telling you he’d see you soon, quickly finishing up. He locked the door behind him and jogged to the Bronco parked in the driveway, and he was only back at the apartment for less than 10 minutes when you walked in the door with a large smile on your face that quickly morphed into horrified confusion.  

“What happened to our decorations?”

“Hey, Pumpkin. How was brunch?” 

“Were we robbed?”

Bradley barked out a laugh, shaking his head at your wide eyes. “Of our dollar tree Christmas decorations?”

You just gestured wildly around the space, devoid of any hint of the holiday cheer that had existed in its space earlier in the day. He laughed again, closing the distance to where you stood at the still open front door. He reached around you to push it closed before pulling you into him. He kissed your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips, pursued in an adorable pout. “We weren’t robbed,” he assured you. “But I do have a present for you. Go get changed.” 

“What?” 

He squeezed your hips, smiling warmly. “Trust me?” 

You eyed him closely for a moment before your pout eventually settled into a soft grin, and you let out a long sigh before you nodded. “Always.” 

He kissed you again, a little deeper this time, but pulled away before he could get totally lost in it. “Pajamas are on the bed.”

“Pajamas? It’s 2pm!” 

He only chuckled in response, playfully smacking your butt when you started walking back toward the bedroom. “Trust me.” 

You got even more suspicious when you emerged from the bedroom and saw that he had Florry in her carrier at the door and had changed into his own pajamas. He twirled his keys around his fingers and then held open the door for you. Once you were in the Bronco, cat meowing at your feet, he held out a red silk piece of cloth that made your eyebrows shoot up. 

“Seriously? A blindfold?”

“Think of it like a Christmas adventure. Now let me put it on.”

You huffed a breath but he knew you weren't actually mad - you loved surprises, and there was a smile tugging at your lips as you turned to allow him to tie the silk at the back of your head. He kissed your hair when he was done and turned to start the vehicle. 

“You know,” you said casually, just as Bradley was pulling out of the parking lot, “this blindfold might come in handy later. We should make sure the headboard we pick out has appropriate accommodations.” 

He groaned at the implication, a flush creeping up his neck on instinct. You giggled happily, knowing the effect you had on him. He rested a hand on your thigh as he drove, yours covering his in a familiar move. The feeling of your ring on his skin was one he had grown to love in the last few months since you’ve gotten married. 

You threw out guesses the entire drive over, each one more extravagant and ludicrous than the one before. By the time he pulled into the driveway that one day will be an everyday occurrence, he was grinning so hard that his cheeks were starting to hurt. 

“Don’t move,” he said when he saw you reach for the door handle. He jogged around the Bronco to the passenger side, opening your door. He helped you down before reaching back in for Florry’s carrier, pressing it into your hands so you could carry her, while he focused on you. 

"Alright, Pumpkin," he whispered, his voice laced with eagerness. "Keep your blindfold on, and I'll guide you." His hand tightened around yours as he led you out of the car and towards the front door of your new home. Excitement coursed through him as he thought about your reaction, and he loved that he knew instinctively that it would be positive. 

He loved that he knew you so well. 

“Stay here just a second,” he instructed once he got you through the door. He moved away from you to quickly plug everything in, coming back to you once the room was cast both in the sunlight streaming through the windows and the artificial LED lights. 

He stood in front of you, a grin playing on his lips as he watched you fidget with anticipation. Your blindfold was still securely in place, blocking your vision from the surprise he had prepared. You were so damn beautiful, and he would never understand how he got lucky enough to call himself yours. 

"Okay, baby," he said softly.  He gently took the carrier out of your hands, setting it on the floor and letting the cat out to wander the new space that he had cleared of anything that might hurt her, before moving to stand behind you. Your back flush against his front, he moved his hands up your arms in a smooth caress, settling on your shoulders and squeezing in affection. "You can take off the blindfold now."

With trembling hands, you reached up and slipped the silk cloth from your eyes, revealing the scene before you. Gasping in awe, your eyes widened as you took in the sight that unfolded in the living room. 

“Oh my God. Bradley.” 

The room was still very much a construction zone, but he had moved all of the decorations from the apartment, plus a few more that he had gotten, to decorate the barren space. The tree you had bought sat on the floor in the corner. Blankets lined the unfinished floors, as well as humongous cotton puffs to replicate snow. An air mattress covered with bright red sheets and a green blanket was in the middle of the room. Everything looked straight out of a tacky high school Christmas play, but it was so bad that it was almost good - whimsical and unique.

He watched as you took it all in, feeling his heart beating double time in his chest. When you turned to face him, there was a wide smile on your face, and tears shining in your pretty eyes. You didn’t have to ask for him to know what you were thinking. 

“I wanted our first Christmas together to be in our home, even if it’s not finished yet. I figured we could camp out for the day. You-” The words were knocked out of him as you launched yourself into his arms. He held you for a long moment, pressing a kiss into your hair as your laughter settled. “You deserve something special, Pumpkin,” he finally finished, voice softer than it had been. 

You pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes, your hands cupping his face. “All I need is you, baby. You know that?” 

He turned his head just slightly to press a kiss into your palm, nodding once. “I do.” A smirk twitched at his lips, his mustache twitching with the expression. “Does that mean you want me to pack all this up and return your gifts, too?” 

The gasp you let out was damn near scandalized. "Oh, no you don't!" you playfully swatted at his chest. You motioned toward the tacky decorations with a mischievous grin. "We can't let these go to waste. It's our first Christmas, after all."

Bradley chuckled, arms secure around you.  "It sure is," he whispered, his voice filled with affection. He leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, the taste of anticipation lingering. 

“Besides,” you murmured quietly, your eyes sparkling with a familiar look that had him warming from the inside out. “This gives us a jump start on christening the place. That air mattress looks mighty comfortable.” 

Desire flared through him, and he wasted no time in scooping you up in his arms, carrying you bridal-style towards the makeshift bed. Your laughter echoed in the space as he laid you down. 

“You know I’m gonna make you pack all of this back up and put it back up in the apartment until at least New Years, right?” you asked him, slightly breathless as he moved his kisses from your lips down to your neck, nipping at the skin. 

Bradley chuckled, his hands pushing your shirt up, revealing soft skin that he loved to touch. “Oh, of that I have no doubt.” 

Later, you lay nestled together underneath the green blanket, the crackling sound of a virtual fireplace playing from his laptop on the floor beside you while Christmas music played lightly from your phone. You were basking in the glow of the makeshift display as your breathing calmed. You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his beating heart. He was sure that it skipped a beat at the gesture, but if you noticed, you didn’t comment on it. 

“I can’t wait until we’re in here for good,” you whispered instead. 

He hummed in response, tracing lazy patterns on your bare back. “Me too.” 

You snorted after another moment, propping your head up to meet his eyes. “Hell of a first memory to make here, don’t you think?” 

Bradley laughed lightly, a contented smile spreading across his face. It certainly was, in all of the best ways. “I’ll remember this forever,” he said, voice filled with warmth and conviction, because he couldn’t fathom ever forgetting any moment with you, especially something as perfect as this. 

--------------

Main Masterlist :: The Forgotten Moments Masterlist

Notes: It's been far too long since I wrote anything for these two. I hope you enjoyed it! Likes/comments/reblogs are always appreciated if you did🧡

Thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for all their help!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage

@greatszu @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[theladyismyshepard]

On Your Knees, I Stand Tall

NSFW, MDNI below the cut

(How the Ladies Would Suck Your Magical!Dick)

Shadowheart –

The teasing, little devil… The way she looked at you so coquettishly through her lashes, the campfire burning in her eyes just as equally as her desire. You were squirming before she even grabbed your hand to guide you back to her tent. You were trembling when you felt magic washing over you, and before your very eyes you watched as the front of your trousers swelled with a sudden bulge.

You couldn’t help the whimper, and you also couldn’t help but to be soothed by her following cooing.

“It’s okay, my love,” Shadowheart whispered against your lips, giving them a quick, but loving kiss before moving to continue a trail down your chin and to your neck, “Lay back and allow me to make you feel good,”

Your brain was short-circuiting from the new sensations that you were unaccustomed to. With each soft kiss placed on your skin, you felt a twitch from your new member, and you knew she felt it poking into her if her excited giggling was anything to go by. She pulled your shirt up just enough to reveal your chest and after she placed a kiss atop each nipple, she continued her descent down your stomach until she licked at your pubic bone.

You were already panting against the strain of your trousers against your erection. When Shadowheart’s hands finally freed you from the restraint, your dick was standing at attention, just for her attention. Her eyes were wide as she examined you in all your glory, but before you could feel any embarrassed urge to cover yourself, she leaned forward and gave the tip an experimental lick before pulling back to gauge your reaction.

Your head fell back but you were quick to pick it back up. Watching Shadowheart suck on your magical dick was not a sight you were willing to miss. Your chest was stuttering with each uneven breath and it was the unspoken push that she needed to dive back in. The wet heat of her mouth engulfed just the head at first, but after a few strokes with her tongue, she was opening up to take more of your length. Shadowheart loved to take her time with you, and this was no different. She slicked up every bit of your dick, slow and torturous inch by slow and torturous inch.

She was intent on maintaining your eye contact, but her eyes fluttered shut and if you weren’t mistaken, you’d say she was enjoying herself just as much as you were. Her head began bobbing up and down as she hollowed out her cheeks, and the wet pull had you seeing stars. It was a miracle your hands hadn’t grabbed at the back of her neck and your hips didn’t pump your dick deeper down her throat. No, you wanted this to last.

Your hands finally acted as though they had a mind of their own. Your left hand wound into the hair behind her ear and you gave her scalp an affectionate little scratch. Your right hand cupped her full cheek and your thumb massaged smooth circles as you felt your own bulge encased within. Her eyes fluttered open at your sweet touches and she briefly nuzzled against your hand. You used the other hand that was scratching behind her ear to brush back some of the hair from her face.

Oh… She flattened her tongue against the underside of the shaft, and your head fell back against the bedroll as you closed your eyes. Her hand splayed out across your hip, her fingertips gently scratching at the sensitive skin there, and watched as your stomach fluttered. Your hips began to shallowly pump after your building release, and she moaned so titillatingly, encouraging you to use her mouth however you needed.

The vibrations of her throat coupled with the quickened suction as she sucked you with more intent, sensing your need to cum without you even begging for it, had you spilling onto her tongue until you were empty. She placed one last kiss on the tip of your rapidly softening member before it disappeared altogether.

Lae'zel –

Lae’zel was never one to back down from a challenge, and when you arched your brow, a playful little grin on full display along with your newly erect member, she charged head-on into your little game. She was none-too-gentle when she seized forward and grabbed onto your dick. For all her brutish front, she stroked your member almost cautiously while watching your face the entire time.

You made a show of your pleasure to embolden her movement, and once she saw that you were enjoying the feel of her hand, she kneeled before you. You had seen the githyanki kneel before gods and superiors, and now you know the rush they must have felt. But you doubted that they knew the joys of having her mouth take the entirety of their length in one go.

You were trying to force air through your lungs even though your throat was constricting around each gasping breath. Your hands instinctively landed on her shoulders as a means to ground both of you to the present. Lae’zel pulled back just enough to keep the head between her thin lips, and dove back in with just as much vigor. It was almost as if she had a specific goal in mind, and she wouldn’t slow her pace until she carried it out.

Her battle-weathered hands reached up to cup your rear. Her fingers splayed out across your ass before her fingernails pinched into your flesh. You were a jumbled mess torn between the ecstasy that was the slick, wet warmth of Lae’zel’s tongue and the exquisite throbbing of her commanding grip. All you could do was relish in what Lae’zel was offering up to you from down on her knees.

She used her grip on your rear as leverage to jolt you forward and the underside of your cock smoothly slid across the expanse of her tongue. The whine bubbled in the back of your throat with no warning as your right hand traveled from her shoulder to the back of her neck. You made no move to bury your dick further into her mouth, you just felt the incessant need for physical contact, to deepen the connection between you two if it were even possible to get any closer.

You pet at the back of her neck, your fingers lazily scratching at the fine hairs at the base of her scalp. You felt the high tip of her nose nuzzle against a patch of your pubic hair before you felt her hot breath exhale through her nostrils, warming and condensing your flesh. You stare down at her in amazement as she deepthroated every inch of you, slowly pulled back, and forcefully pushed your length back in in one go.

Lae’zel’s only intention at the moment was to get you off, and she wasted no time with explicit words or gentle handiwork. She was a battle-hardened warrior who was used to the fast-paced life, so she had a habit of sometimes treating your orgasm as a mission for her to complete with efficiency and speed. As you felt your lower stomach muscles twitching, you knew the exact moment you were standing right on the edge, about to plummet head-first into a body-rocking orgasm.

“Do it,” Lae’zel pulled back to command gruffly, her throat audibly sore from having it stretched out, and before you could even swallow down your gasping breaths, she licked a hard swipe up the head of your dick, taking in the clear liquid oozing from it.

“Lae,” It was a mixture of a moan and a whine, but it was all you needed to say to convey that you were so close, but you needed something to shove you right over the edge.

Your hands were now tangled in her hair and your hips were jogging forward without your permission as you subconsciously began to fuck her mouth. With every pump forward she would meet you halfway and with every withdrawal she would pull back as well, meeting your rhythm with fervor. After one particular motion where you felt yourself bottom out, one of the hands that was still gripping your ass drifted down to caress the back of your thigh, and the feather-light tickling against your skin had you painting the back of her throat with your cum. Your new member vanished before Lae’zel could even release you, and she was licking her lips at both the disappearance and the new taste on her tongue.

Karlach –

You had felt Karlach’s unwavering gaze on the front of your pants from the moment an unfamiliar spell had been cast on you. Initially, you were too frantic to feel any sort of humiliation when Shadowheart proved clueless as well and you decided the wisdom that Jahiera would surely have to offer would be beneficial. Karlach was unnaturally quiet the entire time you explained your situation to the druid. All she could muster up was a shrug and told you to put it to use while giving Karlach a wink.

The tiefling remained just as quiet even when you two had reached the room you would be sharing that night, two separate beds turned down and at the ready for you. She said not a word even when you grumbled a few incredulous remarks about Jahiera’s apparent lack of expertise on your not-so-little “problem”. You sighed in defeat and slumped back on your bed, your arms crossed behind your head and acting as a cushion as you stared up at the ceiling with a furrowed brow.

There was a very noticeable tent standing tall in your pants, and you wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t make you feel like squirming right out of your own skin. You had to fight against the reflexive urge to reach down and squeeze some sort of pressure to it. To distract yourself, you craned your neck to engage in some sort of small talk with Karlach, but the words died on your lips when you noticed her standing rigidly at the foot of her bed, the flames of her body burning bright.

“Are you…” You started but trailed off when you noticed the tiefling sweating more profusely than usual, prompting you to exhale shakily.

Karlach seemed to startle from her daze and subconsciously licked her lips before clearing her throat. Your eyes, which were dancing across every feature of her face, caught the motion of her tongue, and you felt self-conscious at the visible twitch of your dick. You moved to cover yourself, but Karlach was suddenly before you, moving to catch your hands, but thinking better of it at the last second and instead her hands hovered over yours.

“You don’t have to hide from me, ya know,” Karlach assured, giving you her signature sunny smile, before it morphed into a smirk, “I think you look hot as fuck right now,”

Your mouth opened and closed, but you were speechless at her blatant desire. You weren’t sure what exactly she had in mind, but you now knew that your new member must have been what had Karlach so speechless herself earlier. The thought of Karlach so zoned out with nothing but your dick guiding her forward was surprisingly quite the turn on for you. You pulled your hands back and returned your arms behind your head once again, keeping a curious eye on her the entire time to see what she would do.

Your stomach was quickly rising and falling with each quick breath you took, and you shuddered from the strain of your trousers against your growing erection. Karlach must have sensed your uncomfortable situation, and with her being the kindest person that you knew, she was quick to gather her emotions in a well-practiced routine, just enough to calm her visibly licking flames before she allowed herself to reach closer into your space.

Her index finger drew hesitant circles along the outline of your dick, and her natural warmth seemed as if it spread from her single finger alone to your very core. You couldn’t help the surprised jolt of your hips as your arousal clouded your mind, leaving you thinking of nothing but chasing after the pleasure shooting through you. You would have mumbled out an apology if you had more wits about yourself at that moment, but you saw nothing but static when she began untying the string that was keeping your trousers up with nothing but her nails.

“Already ready for me, eh?” Karlach pointed out with a coy grin before her eyes cut back to your dick as she freed you for you both to see. “Who’d a thought that you’d be a handful… or a mouthful it looks like,”

A gasp tumbled from your lips at her words, and you had no chance of your breath returning to you when she forcefully grabbed the waistband of your pants and brought them down your hip to expose all of you to the cool air. You shivered, feeling goosebumps flaring across your bare skin, but you were never cold for long when Karlach was around. Her eyes were wide as her mouth parted with her own stunned arousal, and her flames erupted once more, causing her to pull back and breathe calmly to herself.

You swallowed thickly as you watched her snuff out her own flames. The minute of silence did nothing to soften your hard dick, but you weren’t about to interrupt her concentration. You were heavily rewarded for your patience when she returned to your side and asked you to take your trousers all the way off and sit on the very edge of the bed. She gently touched your knees and spread your legs apart just enough to fit her body between them. She was entranced by your length yet again, but this time, she did nothing to fight against the hunger driving her mouth-first onto your cock.

You choked on your own spit at her lack of timidity, but you supposed that everything about Karlach was bold, even down to the way she’d drop to her knees and suck your dick. She was a greedy mix of licking and sucking as she eagerly attempted to bring you to the brink. You could feel her giddy smile on the lips surrounding you.

The warmth encasing you was uniquely Karlach and the wet pull and slide had you leaking pre-cum onto the back of her tongue already. You sighed and freed one arm from behind your head to snake down and gently curl around her intact horn. It was hot to the touch, but nothing you couldn’t withstand. Your thumb rubbed up and down the length of it, and Karlach moaned herself at the rare display of physical touch. You weren’t sure if her horns were sensitive or not, but you continued to gently massage her while also subtly guiding her quicker and quicker.

“Oh gods,” You groaned, your eyes squeezing shut and you had to hold yourself back from immediately spilling into her mouth when you felt laughter bubbling around your dick, and she assisted with that by pulling off with a pop.

“Nah, love,” she winked before placing a quick open-mouthed kiss atop the tip, sending a jolt of electricity through you, “It’s just little ol’ me, Karlach,”

You could see a look of pure concentration on her face as she split her attention between pleasing you and keeping herself neutral in the process. Your heart suddenly swelled in appreciation for the gift she was bestowing you. She was keeping every part of herself off of you aside from her mouth, not wanting to risk any burns marring your flesh. Your palm alone would surely be a bit reddened by the time you let go of her horn, and when you pulled away to inspect, it sure enough was.

Karlach was intent on getting you to cum with nothing but her mouth alone, and who were you to put up any fight? You sought after every trace of pleasure that curled your toes and let it wash over you until there was a building pressure mounting in your gut and had your dick throbbing against her tongue. Your hips began to pump further into her mouth as you danced along the edge, a fire blazing just beneath your skin as sweat broke out on your forehead. There was heat all around you, and just when you thought you would be burnt alive, Karlach shifted her head, and with each suck of your cock, she sank back down with a twist.

You came with a cry as you spilled into her mouth. Karlach lapped it up happily and licked you clean just as your new member disappeared. Her eyes widened with a gasp before a newfound hunger fueled her forward.

Minthara –

Minthara had been staring at you hard over the past few days. You had saved her life and she hadn’t exactly proven grateful for your actions. In fact, she had been sulking over nearly letting herself get killed, and was too unforgiving on herself to be thankful to you. She pushed herself in battle, she took watches over the camp in case there were any Absolutists lurking around, and most of all, she had distanced herself.

You had tried to explain that you care about her and that was why you had saved her, just as you knew she would protect you with her life. She had gruffly brushed it off stating that she should not need protection, that she was your sword and your shield, and while her feral attitude was what initially pulled you closer to her, you couldn’t help but to feel indignant. You had spared her and saved her when you had first met, so you both knew you were capable of handling yourself and lending your own protection as well.

You feared that she viewed herself as weak. Your party would be the first ones to describe how dangerous the adventure had been thus far, and there had been numerous close calls on everyone. But Minthara put herself of higher value over the others, and she refused to acknowledge any weakness in herself. Having you be the one to swoop in and save her must have been the icing on the cake.

As you leaned against the railing overlooking Baldur’s Gate in the hightower lookout of Wyrm’s Crossing, you released a sigh. It was a beautiful sight you would never get tired of, but at the moment, you had a lot on your mind surrounding your favorite drow. And almost as if summoning her yourself, there was a creak of the floorboards behind you, and you knew Minthara wanted you to know she was there.

You felt a magical aura surrounding you before there was an intense tingling sensation in your crotch area. Your brow creased before your mouth fell open in shock when you more-or-less felt yourself enlarging rather than saw it. You grew a dick out of nowhere and before you could even squawk, Minthara pressed her front against your back, her arms circling you before her hands stopped just below the waistband of your underwear. The fast pace that Minthara always set never failed to give you whiplash, and considering the past few days of her brooding, you could hardly keep up with her sudden change of tone.

“What’re-”

“Shh,” Minthara cut you off before moving to standing before you, “I’ve thought things over, and I see that I have failed to properly thank you for keeping me alive.”

“Minthara,” you started with a sigh, “You don’t have to-”

She interrupted you yet again, but this time there were no words. She slowly kneeled before you, her eyes never once leaving yours even as her fingers worked at the knot tightening your pants. She was smirking up at you and even as you towered above her, you somehow still felt like you were the prey in this situation. The hunger in her eyes implied she could eat you alive, and as your dick sprang free and nearly clipped her in the chin, you immediately deduced that she was about to.

“Watch the city, baby, because I’ll have you seeing your own stars in just a moment.”

Minthara was possessive over your body and your pleasure. She took you into her mouth and worshiped every inch as if it belonged to her. And if anyone were to ask you, your dick did belong to Minthara. She licked along a vein running from the base down the length before suckling just the tip into her mouth. She sucked with enough pressure that if you were to guess, you’d say she was attempting to leave her mark as a claim. You felt the not-so-subtle knick of her incisor scratching against you before she soothed any irritation by flattening her tongue and dragging it slowly over the slit.

You had seen the view of Baldur’s Gate thousands of times before. You were more interested in watching Minthara on her knees with your cock outlined in her cheek. She was milking you to ecstasy, and while she usually enjoyed teasing you into oblivion, tonight was a reward for loving her and she would refrain from leaving you a sobbing, wet mess… Though she would stand for some begging on your part.

“Should I let you cum, my love?” Minthara cooed up at you, her neck arching as her right hand came up to stroke you hard and fast.

“Please,” You gasped, your hands digging into the rail as a means to keep yourself upright.

“Where do you want to cum?”

You whimpered and your hips snapped forward against your will. You imagined her hand stroking your dick just before her awaiting tongue and coming in her mouth, painting her throat white with a claiming mark of your own. You imagined Minthara before you, shirtless, and shooting a load on her heaving chest. Your eyes screwed shut as your fantasies ran rampant, so you missed her leaning forward and giving a hard lick over the head before flicking it several quick times with feather-light licks with just the tip of her tongue.

You sputtered as your stomach muscles tightened before your spine arched and you were coming on her tongue. She refused to allow even a drop of you to escape and she had your mess licked clean just as the magic wore off.

[adisquietfollows]

The reporters interviewed Amit Soussana for eight hours and doctors she spoke with immediately after her release. They also reviewed medical records, videos, text messages and photographs.

Full text under the cut.

March 26, 2024

Amit Soussana, an Israeli lawyer, was abducted from her home on Oct. 7, beaten and dragged into Gaza by at least 10 men, some armed. Several days into her captivity, she said, her guard began asking about her sex life.

Ms. Soussana said she was held alone in a child’s bedroom, chained by her left ankle. Sometimes, the guard would enter, sit beside her on the bed, lift her shirt and touch her, she said.

He also repeatedly asked when her period was due. When her period ended, around Oct. 18, she tried to put him off by pretending that she was bleeding for nearly a week, she recalled.

Around Oct. 24, the guard, who called himself Muhammad, attacked her, she said.

Early that morning, she said, Muhammad unlocked her chain and left her in the bathroom. After she undressed and began washing herself in the bathtub, Muhammad returned and stood in the doorway, holding a pistol.

“He came towards me and shoved the gun at my forehead,” Ms. Soussana recalled during eight hours of interviews with The New York Times in mid-March. After hitting Ms. Soussana and forcing her to remove her towel, Muhammad groped her, sat her on the edge of the bathtub and hit her again, she said.

He dragged her at gunpoint back to the child’s bedroom, a room covered in images of the cartoon character SpongeBob SquarePants, she recalled.

“Then he, with the gun pointed at me, forced me to commit a sexual act on him,” Ms. Soussana said.

Ms. Soussana, 40, is the first Israeli to speak publicly about being sexually assaulted during captivity after the Hamas-led raid on southern Israel. In her interviews with The Times, conducted mostly in English, she provided extensive details of sexual and other violence she suffered during a 55-day ordeal.

Ms. Soussana’s personal account of her experience in captivity is consistent with what she told two doctors and a social worker less than 24 hours after she was freed on Nov. 30. Their reports about her account state the nature of the sexual act; The Times agreed not to disclose the specifics.

Ms. Soussana described being detained in roughly half a dozen sites, including private homes, an office and a subterranean tunnel. Later in her detention, she said, a group of captors suspended her across the gap between two couches and beat her.

For months, Hamas and its supporters have denied that its members sexually abused people in captivity or during the Oct. 7 terrorist attack. This month, a United Nations report said that there was “clear and convincing information” that some hostages had suffered sexual violence and there were “reasonable grounds” to believe sexual violence occurred during the raid, while acknowledging the “challenges and limitations” of examining the issue.

After being released along with 105 other hostages during a cease-fire in late November, Ms. Soussana spoke only in vague terms publicly about her treatment in the Gaza Strip, wary of recounting such a traumatic experience. When filmed by Hamas minutes before being freed, she said, she pretended to have been treated well to avoid jeopardizing her release.

Ms. Soussana said she had decided to speak out now to raise awareness about the plight of the hostages still in Gaza, whose number has been put at more than 100, as negotiations for a cease-fire falter.

Hours after her release, Ms. Soussana spoke with a senior Israeli gynecologist, Dr. Julia Barda, and a social worker, Valeria Tsekhovsky, about the sexual assault, the two women said in separate interviews with The Times. A medical report filed jointly by them, and reviewed by The Times, briefly summarizes her account.

“Amit spoke immediately, fluently and in detail, not only about her sexual assault but also about the many other ordeals she experienced,” Dr. Barda said.

The following day, on Dec. 1, Ms. Soussana shared her experience with a doctor from Israel’s National Center of Forensic Medicine, according to the center’s medical report, which was reviewed by The Times.

Siegal Sadetzki, a professor at Tel Aviv University medical school who is helping and advising Ms. Soussana’s family as a volunteer, said Ms. Soussana first told her about the sexual assault within days of her release. Professor Sadetzki, a former top Israeli health official, said Ms. Soussana’s accounts have remained consistent.

Ms. Soussana also spoke to the U.N. team that published the report on sexual violence, but The Times was unable to review her testimony.

A spokesman for Hamas, Basem Naim, said in a 1,300-word response to The Times that it was essential for the group to investigate Ms. Soussana’s allegations, but that such an inquiry was impossible in “the current circumstances.”

Mr. Naim cast doubt on Ms. Soussana’s account, questioning why she had not spoken publicly about the extent of her mistreatment. He said the level of detail in her account makes “it difficult to believe the story, unless it was designed by some security officers.”

“For us, the human body, and especially that of the woman, is sacred,” he said, adding that Hamas’s religious beliefs “forbade any mistreatment of any human being, regardless of his sex, religion or ethnicity.”

Mr. Naim criticized The Times for insufficient coverage of Palestinian suffering, including reports of sexual assault by Israeli soldiers on Palestinian women, which have been the subject of investigations by U.N. officials, rights groups and others. He also said “civilian hostages were not the target” of the raid and said “we have from the first moment declared our readiness to release them.”

A Hamas planning document found in one village shortly after the Oct. 7 raid, which was reviewed by The Times, said: “Take soldiers and civilians as prisoners and hostages to negotiate with.” Video from Oct. 7 shows uniformed Hamas militants abducting civilians.

The Abduction

Ms. Soussana lived alone in a cramped single-story home on the western side of Kibbutz Kfar Azza. After hearing sirens warning of rocket attacks on Oct. 7, she said, she sheltered in her bedroom, which was also a reinforced safe room. From her bedroom, Ms. Soussana listened as the attackers’ gunfire grew closer.

The small kibbutz stands roughly 1.5 miles from Gaza, and it was one of more than 20 Israeli villages, towns and army bases overrun that day by thousands who surged across the Gazan border shortly after dawn. Some 1,200 people were killed that day and about 250 abducted, Israeli officials say, setting off a war in Gaza that local health officials say has killed at least 31,000 Palestinians.

Ms. Soussana was at the kibbutz almost by chance. Sick with a fever, she had been recuperating the previous day in the nearby city of Sderot, with her mother, Mira, who pressed her to stay the night. But Ms. Soussana drove home to Kfar Azza to feed her three cats, she said.

The youngest of three sisters, Ms. Soussana had grown up in Sderot. She qualified as a lawyer at a local college and worked for a law firm specializing in intellectual property. Her colleagues considered her a diligent, quiet and private person who kept her distance, her supervisor, Oren Mendler, said in an interview. In Kfar Azza, Ms. Soussana said, she rarely involved herself in village life and was not part of the local WhatsApp groups, which left her unaware of the extent of the attack on the kibbutz.

At 9:46 a.m. that day, she heard gunmen outside, prompting her to hide inside her bedroom closet, according to messages on her family WhatsApp group reviewed by The Times. Twenty minutes later, her phone died.

Moments later, “I heard an explosion, a huge explosion,” she said. “And the second after that, someone opened the closet door.”

Dragged from the closet, she said, she saw roughly 10 men rifling through her belongings, armed with assault rifles, a grenade launcher and a machete.

Part of the house was on fire — a blaze that would ruin the building.

Over the next hour, the group dragged her through a nearby field toward Gaza. Security footage from a solar farm near the kibbutz, which was widely circulated on the internet, shows the group repeatedly tackling her to the ground as they struggled to restrain her. At one point, a kidnapper picked her up and slung her across his back. The video shows her flailing so hard, her legs thrashing in the air, that the man tumbled to the ground.

“I didn’t want to let them take me to Gaza like an object, without a fight,” said Ms. Soussana. “I still kept believing that someone will come and rescue me.”

The Abuser

The kidnappers attempted to restrain her by beating her and wrapping her in a white fabric, the video shows. Unable to subdue her, the attackers tried and failed to carry her by bicycle, she said. Finally, they bound her hands and feet and dragged her across the bumpy farmland into Gaza, she said.

She was badly wounded, bleeding heavily, with a split lip, she said. The hospital report prepared shortly after her release said that she returned to Israel with fractures in her right eye socket, cheek, knee and nose and severe bruising on her knee and back. The report stated that several injuries were related to her abduction on Oct. 7, including punches to her right eye.

After reaching the edge of Gaza, Ms. Soussana said, she was shoved into a waiting car and driven a few hundred yards into the outskirts of Gaza City. She was untied, dressed in a paramilitary uniform and transferred to another car filled with uniformed militants. A hood was placed over her head, though she could still catch glimpses of her surroundings from under it, she said. After a short drive, she was hurried up a staircase and onto a rooftop, she said.

After the hood was removed, Ms. Soussana said, she found herself in a small structure built on the roof of what she would later realize was an upscale private home. She remembered that militants were busy taking more guns from a box. Then the gunmen hurried downstairs, and she was left alone, facing a wall, with a man who said he was the owner of the house and called himself Mahmoud, she recalled.

“After a couple of minutes, he said I can turn around,” Ms. Soussana said. “And I was shocked,” she added. “I find myself sitting in a house in Gaza.”

She said Mahmoud was soon joined by a younger man, Muhammad. She remembered Muhammad as a chubby, balding man of average height with a wide nose.

Later that day, they dressed her in a thick brown garment that covered her body, she said. They gave her three pills, which they said were painkillers. It was the only time that she remembers receiving any kind of medicine in Gaza, let alone medical treatment.

Fitted with a fan and a television, the room appeared to have been prepared for her arrival, she said. There were three mattresses, she said, one for her and two for the guards.

Early in her captivity, her guards chained her ankle to the window frame, she said. Around Oct. 11, she said, she was led by the chain to a bedroom downstairs. She understood that it belonged to one of Mahmoud’s sons, and that his family had been moved to another place.

The chain was reattached to the door handle, she said, next to a mirror. For the first time since her capture, she could see what she looked like.

“I saw the chains and I saw that my face was all swollen and blue,” she said.

“And I just started to cry,” she said. “This was one of the lowest moments of my life.”

The Jail

For the next two and a half weeks in October, Ms. Soussana said, she was guarded exclusively by Muhammad.

She recalled that the room was almost permanently shrouded in darkness. The curtain was usually drawn shut and there were rolling power outages for most of the day, she said.

She said Muhammad slept outside the bedroom, in the adjacent living room, but frequently entered the bedroom in his underwear, asking about her sex life and offering to massage her body.

When he took her to the bathroom, Ms. Soussana said, he refused to let her shut the door. After giving her sanitary pads, Muhammad seemed particularly interested in the timing of her period, she said. She said she had spoken in a mix of basic English and Arabic; she had learned a little Arabic at school and her mother’s family — Jews from Iraq — had sometimes spoken it during her childhood.

“Every day, he would ask: ‘Did you get your period? Did you get your period? When you get your period, when it will be over, you will wash, you will take a shower and you will wash your clothes,’” Ms. Soussana recalled.

When it arrived, Ms. Soussana said, she was exhausted, afraid and undernourished; her period lasted just one day. She managed to convince him that her menstruation continued for nearly a week, she said.

She tried to humanize herself in his eyes by asking the meaning of Arabic words she heard on television. She also promised that her family would reward him financially if she was returned without further harm to Israel, she said.

In the afternoons, two associates of Muhammad would join him at the apartment, bringing him a cooked meal, she said. Some of this food was given to her as her one meal of the day.

The Israeli strikes on the neighborhood became more frequent and frightening, Ms. Soussana said, noting that some shattered the windows. As the bombing intensified, she said, she started feeling sorry for the civilians, wondering why Hamas had never built bomb shelters for its people.

“I felt for them,” Ms. Soussana said. “Just think about growing up like this — it’s scary.”

The Assault

Early on the morning of the assault, she said, Muhammad insisted she take a shower, but she refused, saying the water was cold. Undeterred, he unchained Ms. Soussana and brought her to the kitchen and showed her a pot of water boiling on the stove, she said.

Minutes later, he brought her to the bathroom and gave her the heated water to pour over herself, she said.

After washing for a few minutes, she heard his voice again from the door, she said.

“‘Quickly, Amit, quickly,’” she recalled him saying.

“I turned around and I saw him standing there,” she said. “With the gun.”

She remembered reaching for a hand towel to cover herself as he advanced and hit her.

“He said, ‘Amit, Amit, take it off,’” she recalled. “Finally, I took it off.”

“He sat me on the edge of the bath. And I closed my legs. And I resisted. And he kept punching me and put his gun in my face,” Ms. Soussana said. “Then he dragged me to the bedroom.”

At that point, Muhammad forced her to commit a sexual act on him, Ms. Soussana said. After the assault, Muhammad left the room to wash, leaving Ms. Soussana sitting naked in the dark, she said.

When he returned, she recalled him showing remorse, saying, “I’m bad, I’m bad, please don’t tell Israel.”

That day, Muhammad repeatedly returned to offer her food, Ms. Soussana said. Sobbing on the bed, she turned down the initial offerings, she said.

Knowing that Ms. Soussana craved sunlight, she said, he refused to open the curtains, leaving the room in darkness. Desperate for daylight, she accepted the food, believing that she had no other option but to placate her abuser.

“You can’t stand looking at him — but you have to: He’s the one who’s protecting you, he’s your guard,” she said. “You’re there with him and you know that every moment it can happen again. You’re completely dependent on him.”

The Israelis

Ms. Soussana said her captors moved her away from the border after a major, hourslong bombardment overnight. Based on the extent of the explosions and snippets she caught on television, she later concluded it was around the start of Israel’s ground invasion of Gaza on Friday, Oct. 27.

On the following day, she was hurried into a small white car, she said. The driver headed southwest toward what she would later be told was the central city of Nuseirat.

“Muhammad is sitting in the back seat next to me, and with the gun pointed at me,” she said.

The car stopped outside what looked like a United Nations school and Ms. Soussana was ushered into a busy street, she recalled.

She said she was handed over to a man who called himself Amir. He marched her up the stairs of a nearby apartment block and into another private home, she said.

For the first time in weeks, she was free of Muhammad — but terrified to be entering yet another unknown. “‘Oh my God,’” she remembered wondering. “‘What’s going to happen to me?’”

The man ushered her into a bedroom and shut the door behind her, she recalled. Inside, she found two young women playing cards, next to an older man lying on a bed and an older woman sitting in a chair, she said. Ms. Soussana was wearing traditional clothes from Gaza, she recalled.

“They looked at me and I looked at them, for like half a minute,” she said. “Then I asked, ‘Are you Israelis?’”

“Are you Israeli?” Ms. Soussana remembered one of the women replying.

The Tunnels

Three weeks after her kidnapping, Ms. Soussana had been united with four other hostages. Hugging them, Ms. Soussana broke down in tears, she said.

The identities of the four others were shared with The Times on the condition that their names would not be used to protect those still in captivity.

A few days after her arrival, she was summoned to the apartment’s living room, Ms. Soussana recalled. Amir often played here with his children.

On that day, the guards wrapped her head in a pink shirt, forced her to sit on the floor, handcuffed her, and began beating her with the butt of a gun, she said.

After several minutes, they used duct tape to cover her mouth and nose, tied her feet, and placed the handcuffs on the base of her palms, she said. Then she was suspended, hanging “like a chicken” from a stick stretching between two couches, causing her such pain that she felt that her hands would soon be dislocated.

They carried on beating and kicking her, focusing on the soles of her feet, while simultaneously demanding information they believed she was hiding from them, Ms. Soussana said.

She still doesn’t understand what exactly they wanted or why they thought she was concealing something, she said. At one point, the head guard brought over a spike, and made as if to poke her eye with it, pulling away just in time, she said.

“It was like that for 45 minutes or so,” she said. “They were hitting me and laughing and kicking me, and called the other hostages to see me,” she said.

Ms. Soussana recalled that the kidnappers untied her and returned her to the bedroom, telling her she had 40 minutes to produce the information they wanted or else they would kill her. She said one of the young women was so frightened that she asked Ms. Soussana if she had any last messages for her family.

In mid-November, the hostages were separated: The two youngest women were taken to an unknown location, she said, while Ms. Soussana and the older couple were driven to a house surrounded by farmland.

They found the house full of gunmen, who ordered them to sit on the floor. Suddenly, the older woman began to scream, Ms. Soussana said.

The woman was looking into a shaft that descended into the ground, Ms. Soussana said. “I hear one of the drivers telling her: ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry. It’s a city down there.’”

“Then I realized,” Ms. Soussana said. “We’re going into the tunnels.”

The Release

A ladder, several stairs and a series of narrow sloping passageways led the three hostages deep underground, she said.

By the time they reached the bottom, the guards said they were 40 meters deep, something they hoped would reassure the hostages, she said: The Israeli bombs could not reach them there.

Ms. Soussana said a big gunman in a mask was waiting for them at the bottom. Initially, he started shouting at them, telling them that Israel had killed his family, she said, but then quickly stopped, removed his mask and took a different tone.

She said the man introduced himself in English as Jihad and told them his father had worked in Israel and had even had his Israeli boss to dinner, in the years when Israeli civilians could still enter Gaza. He spoke in Hebrew at times. Jihad said he had learned some from watching Israeli television and sang them a famous song that he had heard on a children’s show, Ms. Soussana remembered.

“I was shocked,” Ms. Soussana said. “Suddenly, he was the most humane guy we met there.”

The ground shook every time a missile struck nearby, making her fear they might be buried alive, she said. The tunnels were dark, damp and too narrow for two people to pass each other. And their subterranean cell was so short of air that they were left dizzy and panting after taking a few steps, she said.

Israeli troops would later capture and photograph the tunnel. Ms. Soussana identified fabrics and mattresses in the pictures.

Their captors spent little more than an hour a day in the tunnel, ascending to higher levels overnight for fresh air, Ms. Soussana said. The hostages pleaded with the guards to bring them, too.

After several days, the kidnappers gave in, brought them back to the surface and drove them to another private house, Ms. Soussana said.

They were still there when Israel and Hamas agreed to a hostage deal and a temporary truce, which went into force on Friday, Nov. 24. The following day, the three hostages were driven to an office in Gaza City — Ms. Soussana’s final detention site.

Every day brought hope and disappointment. It was never clear which hostages would be freed, or when.

On Thursday, Nov. 30, which turned out to be the last full day of the truce, the guards were making lunch when one of them finished a phone call and turned to Amit.

“He says: ‘Amit. Israel. You. One hour,’” Ms. Soussana recalled.

Within an hour, Ms. Soussana said, she was separated from the older hostage and driven through Gaza City. The car stopped, and a woman in a hijab climbed inside. It was another Israeli hostage: Mia Schem, who was also being released.

They were taken to a junkyard, Ms. Soussana recalled. Around them, she said, their guards changed from civilian clothes into uniforms.

Finally, the two women were driven to Palestine Square, a major plaza at the heart of Gaza City, where a raucous crowd waited to see them handed over to the Red Cross. Social media video showed that Hamas struggled to control the onlookers, who surrounded the car, pressed up against its windows and at one point began to rock the vehicle, Ms. Soussana said.

After a tense few minutes, the Red Cross officials managed to transfer the women to their jeep.

As they approached the Israeli border, a female Red Cross official handed Ms. Soussana a phone. A person who said he was a soldier greeted her in Hebrew.

“He said, ‘A couple more minutes and we’re going to meet you,’” Ms. Soussana said. “I remember, I started to cry.”

Aaron Boxerman and Isabel Kershner contributed reporting.

Patrick Kingsley is the Jerusalem bureau chief, covering Israel and the occupied territories. He has reported from more than 40 countries, written two books and previously covered migration and the Middle East for The Guardian. More about Patrick Kingsley

Ronen Bergman is a staff writer for The New York Times Magazine, based in Tel Aviv. His latest book is “Rise and Kill First: The Secret History of Israel’s Targeted Assassinations,” published by Random House. More about Ronen Bergman

A version of this article appears in print on March 27, 2024, Section A, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: Israeli Hostage Tells of Sexual Assault in Gaza. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

[fourmoony]

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 (𝟐)

james potter x f!reader

fluff. 1.4k

Summary: James, Sirius, and Remus are bested by Hope.

part 1 - part 3 - part 4 - masterlist

...

James is standing in the middle of the chaos surrounding your living room.

You’re just short of thirty seconds through the front door – the majority of which you spent kicking off your shoes and setting them on the shoe rack – and already, you miss the inside of the potion’s lab. You’ve been there all day, daydreaming about being at home. But now. Now, you wish you’d stayed behind with Lily. She’s high maintenance, sure. She’s bossy and full on about it because she’s currently heading the Order’s potion’s labs all over the country – she’s stressed. But Lily Evans is nowhere near as high maintenance as your boyfriend and his friends.

This, you should have known.

Remus and Sirius are bickering loudly over the sound of Hope’s high-pitched screaming. Remus is holding Hope, arms outstretched and a concerned look on his face, like he’s hesitant to have her near her in her current state. He looks panicked. Sirius is trying to strong arm your daughter into a nappy, but she’s kicking her legs so violently that you know he has no hope. He mutters something at Remus, but his voice is cheery and soothing – you suppose in attempt to keep Hope from getting any more violent. Remus huffs and tries lifting your screaming baby up, then down, as if bouncing her. She only cries more.

There are crumpled nappies scattered across the floor and a small bag of what you assume is used wipes – you’re thankful that at least those have been disposed of in a clean way. The fire is roaring, covered by the grate, and the room is far too warm – even for the middle of January. There are bright coloured toys on every surface and a kid’s broom taking up space on the single armchair nearest the kitchen. There’re half drunken milk bottles on the coffee table and half a jar of mashed potato and gravy puree, the spoon of which is sitting on a coaster, still covered in mush.

James’ eyes snap up the minute he nears your shaky intake of breath, and everything stops. His hands are full of a mix of crumpled nappies and baby toys, and his eyes are wide. His hair is messier than usual, a clear sign that he’s been running his hands through it in a fit of stress.

“Hey,” James breathes.

Remus and Sirius have frozen like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. You bypass your boyfriend, eyes narrowed at Remus, who turns from Sirius and thrusts Hope toward you. You take her and immediately, she quiets. You hold her to your chest, hand gently rubbing the back of her head. Remus and Sirius physically release, both letting out a deep breath. James closes his eyes, enjoys the silence for a moment.

“James, pick up the nappies. Outside bin,” You point at James, and he springs into action, nodding enthusiastically, “Remus, toys in the box,” You point to the pink box Sirius made Hope that rests to the right of the fireplace, “Sirius, wash the bottles, and bin the puree.”

The three men spring into action around you while you mentally thank Lily for being so bossy and rubbing off on you. Hope is making quiet noises against your collar bone, and you melt. She’s ten months now, crawling and babbling non-stop It’s been challenging, balancing your work in the potion’s lab with James’ order missions whilst still being able to spend time with Hope together. James is absolutely positive she’s defying nature and biology and growing too fast. But you don’t mind. You’re in constant awe of your daughter and all the milestones she makes. You’d never admit it, but you cried the first time she crawled.

“Hey, sweet girl.” You mumble, lips pressed to Hope’s head.

Her hair is growing fast and dark. There’s enough to put in pigtails, now. She doesn’t have any in today. Simply because James cannot comprehend the idea of a hair tie. Hope tilts her head, bright blue eyes no longer filled with tears, but with wonder. It’s been seven months of being her mum, and your breath still hitches every time she looks at you with that babied wonderment, with that unwavering love and trust. She’s so beautiful, a gift you wonder every day what you ever did to deserve.

“She’s been a moody little witch, today,” Remus comments, launching crinkle books and teddy bears into the pink trunk as he walks around the room.

“She’s teething, I think.” You tell him.

You shift hope in your arms and reach for her nappy bag that’s been abandoned by the doorway into the living room. She wriggles a little when you set her down onto the changing table under the window – the changing table James has said he’ll take upstairs a million times and never has – but settles when you start to hum softly. With a clean nappy and a fresh set of pyjamas, Hope is a different baby. She’s calm and quiet, pliant in your arms when you lift her again to cradle her. Her eyes blink slowly, tiny lips pouted.

James and Sirius return at the same time, the latter wiping down a fresh bottle with a tea towel, collecting any spillage. He turns it over, dropping a bit on his wrist before passing it over, “Perfect temperature.”

“Thanks,” You sit on the suite – now void of any and all toys – and hold the bottle to Hope’s lips.

She takes it greedily and you smile. James presses a kiss to your head before taking a seat beside you both. His hand rests on your thigh, his attention taken by your little girl. Sirius takes a seat on the floor in front of you both, a gentle finger running up and down the bottom of Hope’s foot. She wriggles, gives his hand a little kick and he laughs. Sirius has been obsessed with Hope since the minute he saw her. He’s the best uncle. He spoils Hope beyond belief and loves her as fiercely as you and James do.

Remus required a little convincing. He loves Hope. It’s obvious in the way he reads to her, in the soft voice he uses when he talks to her. But he’s hesitant. Sirius reckons it’s because he’s scared of hurting her with his heavy hands and lanky limbs. You know he never could. He’s sitting across the room, twirling the toy broom in his hands while he sits in the armchair.

“You better not have put her on that broom, Sirius.�� You warn the boy at your feet.

He makes grabby hands for Hope now that she’s settled, and you pass her over gently before relaxing against James. Sirius stands slowly, carefully, and makes his way over to Remus, sitting down at his feet instead. They enter their own world, softly cooing at Hope and watching her as she drinks the milk. Remus runs a gentle hand over the top of her head, and another hand across Sirius’ shoulders. You smile.

“Today was hard,” James speaks quietly, fingers playing with yours on your lap.

“I can tell.” You tease.

James huffs a laugh, “I swear it wasn’t even that bad until like, twenty minutes before you got home.”

You know very well James would have tried to keep the house as tidy and calm as possible for as long as possible. He’s a good dad. He’s got a good touch with Hope. She settles with him every time. But he also gets overwhelmed easily.

You eye Sirius and Remus. They’re so calm. So, content.

“I hope they have this, one day.” You whisper, eyes looking up at James.

He’s as beautiful as the day you met him. But he’s older now. There’s stubble on his jaw, a result of his busy schedule. His eyes are a honey hazel that makes you melt, and he turns to look at you with so much love and adoration that you can’t do anything but lean forward and kiss him. His answer is delayed by the wide smile he gives you. But it comes with a faraway look that you assume is a yearning for Sirius and Remus to have everything they could ever dream of.

His fingertips brush up your arm, his warmth encompasses you. You feel content, willing to forget how horrible the world outside your home is.

“I hope so, too, baby.” He mumbles, lips pressed to the crown of your head.

Sirius laughs when Remus flinches because Hope grabs his index finger and hangs on for dear life. They share a smile a second later, and Sirius rests his head on Remus knee, both of them staring down at the beautiful little girl in Sirius’ arms.

“Love you.” You tell James.

He squeezes you, “Love you, too.”

[sleepytoycollection]

Barbie Dream Besties "Brooklyn": A review

Barbie Dream Besties is a newly released doll line by Mattel, and is a spin off of their main Barbie line. Looks wise, they seem to be a spiritual successor to My Scene, Ever After high, and the more recent Barbie Extra/Barbie Extra Minis. Also trying desperately to compete with LOL and Rainbow High.

They are $20 USD each retail.

I was interested in these for three reasons: 1) I liked Ever After High and My Scene. 2) They have much more quality outfits than I tend to see from modern Barbie. 3) @queenofsquids enjoyment of them made me hopeful I'd like them too.

So do I? Let's find out.

I choose the character Brooklyn as I like her face up the best.

Her packaging is the standard plastic clam shell that seems to be all over the doll aisle anymore. I can't say I love it. I miss the cardboard boxes, so much easier to open and so much less plastic.

This box isn't super great aesthetically either. There's a lot going on in the service of nothing.

Which is a shame, because I do really like the actual character art on the box. It's super cute and matches the dolls really well. It would pop even better if the rest of the box was a smidge simpler. Sometimes less is more.

The back of the box.

We get more of this delightful artwork, showing of the full set of characters available at the moment.

We also get a short character bio for Brooklyn. She wants to be a choreographer, loves making dance routines, video editing, and creative writing. Despite her favorite color being listed as pink, she has no pink in her outfit and only one pink accessory.

Here is the box without the cover. This is what I meant when I said the box design was doing a lot for nothing. Over packaging isn't just a problem with Mattel dolls of course, MGA is arguably worse, but it's still frustrating.

Brooklyn herself is very pretty though. I tried very hard to pick one without a wonky face, but the way she's posed makes it very hard to tell.

I think one of her eyes is slightly bigger than the other. It's not enough to bother me at least. That said, so many of these were VERY wonky at the store. I would not buy these online unless you can see the specific doll you're getting. The QC is all over the place.

Here are all the accessories she comes with.

I do appreciate that all her accessories tie into her interests and character. That said, these are hit and miss.

The purse is nice, and does open.

The dog is okay, but I don't really care for these types of doll pets. It looks more like an in-universe toy than what's supposed to be an animal.

I initially liked that the phone and case were separate, until I tried to put the phone in the case and it didn't fit. It will not go in there. If I force it in, it just pops right back out.

It's a shame because I liked the 80's Barbie logo case, but without the phone in it, it looks weird when the doll is holding it.

At least the phone fits into the ring light stand.

May I also say some of these accessories feel really flimsy? The phone and Ipad are VERY thin plastic.

The boom box in hollow and unpainted.

I wish instead of having seven mid accessories we could've had two or three really good ones. Or nixed all of them and given her a stand. The doll herself is nice enough to deserve a stand I think.

Let's look at Brooklyn. She's pretty darn cute. She stands at the standard 11", and has saran hair with tinsel.

Her outfit isn't my favorite though. Mattel stop giving your dolls ugly fur sleeved varsity jackets challenge. This could've been so cute as just a regular varsity jacket.

Despite being ugly, the jacket is made pretty well. Though a button was already falling off mine. That poor QC strikes again.

Though I suppose it's moot as I doubt I'll ever put this jacket back on her ever again.

Now that she's free of that ugly thing, you can see how nice the rest of her outfit is. I didn't realize how much I missed dolls getting to wear neutrals until I saw her plain denim skirt and white tank top.

It's simple, but she's dressed like a real person. Plus, I can easily pair these pieces with a lot of other outfits. Doll wardrobes need pieces like this for mixing and matching.

Body wise she's a bit smaller than Barbie, and her feet are a little bit larger. This body reminds me a lot of the current bodies for the Disney Princess line now that Mattel has it back, though those have larger feet. If I can find the one I have, I'll do a body comparison to those later.

Her sculpt in three views. The Ever After High comparisons are very apt, though the screening itself is more reminiscent of My Scene mixed with a little bit of G3 Monster High.

For comparison, here's an actual EAH doll next to her. Brooklyn's head is just a smidge larger, but balanced out better with larger eyes, thicker brows, and bigger lips.

After this, I got Brooklyn redressed with just a few changes...

I replaced her jacket with this vintage Barbie and the Rockers one, added a necklace, and hey! Now she gets to wear her favorite color.

Final thoughts?

It's a good doll, but the quality control issues, on top of the same BS Mattel throws on all of it's dolls anymore, is dragging it down.

The fact you have to look through every single one of the shelf to make sure you're not getting a crappy one is exhausting. Plus, kids don't do that. They're going to get home with their new doll and then realize as they open it something's wrong. Kids don't deserve that.

The accessories are mostly cheap and not special enough to justify their existence. The purse, phone with case, and ring light would've been enough if they were made a bit better.

The outfit is well made, and a huge improvement over what I see in the main Barbie line, even if I don't like all the design choices, but again, that's if you get one without QC issues.

The doll herself is super cute though, and screw it, I like the tinsel. Fight me.

Overall I really love this doll, I just wish picking one out wasn't a hassle. Hell, I even bought a second one already.

I got inspired enough I wanted to repaint one, so I purposely bought this wonky Renee because she had the worst face up out of everyone at the store.

So I think there's definitely potential here. If this line continues, I hope they can improve the way G3 Monster High has improved from it's first wave.

I hope this can be the start of Mattel revitalizing it's Barbie line as well. It needs it. See ya next time.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Getting drunk with sirius and seeing who can go the longest without touching the other

Feeling

Request: Getting drunk with sirius and seeing who can go the longest without touching the other

Hi! I love this request, it’s such a cute idea. Thank you for sending it in. Sorry it’s a little short. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, let me know if i missed anything)

—

“Merlin, get a room, you two!” James groaned, scrunching his nose up at the sight of you and Sirius. 

His voice was drowned out by the sound of your friends laughing as you covered your face. Your cheeks were burning, although that probably had more to do with the firewhiskey in your cup than the embarrassment from having all your friends snicker at you. Your friends were starting to feel the effects of the firewhiskey too, in a giggly haze. You were sitting on top of Sirius’s lap, his cheeks pink and his eyes glazed. His arms were secure tight around your waist, his cheek leaning against your arm. 

“Piss off,” Sirius laughed, looking up at you with a smile as he ran his finger under the hem of your shirt to trace his fingers along the base of your spine. “You’re just jealous. I’ve got the prettiest girl in the room.”

Lily, Marlene, and Mary feigned offense, though they didn’t take it personally. You did, however, slapping his shoulder. 

“Be nice! Don't say things that aren’t true so loudly.”

Sirius nuzzled into your side, gazing up at you with genuine adoration. “It’s true to me, my dear.”

Your eyes softened at his words, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. The girls cooed, making a fuss over the pair of you. The boys weren’t as easily impressed, however, groaning at the sight of their friend so love struck. 

“You’re ruining the game,” James whined, gesturing to your friends. “Pay attention, Pads. It’s your turn next.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck getting him to pay attention long enough to take it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius challenged, raising a brow. 

“It means,” Remus said, leaning in with a smirk on his face. “That you two can’t keep your hands off each other for longer than a minute, let alone long enough to sit through the entire game.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Lily grinned, gesturing to his arms secured around your waist. 

Sirius looked down at his hands, before looking up at you apprehensively. You smiled down at him, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. He groaned, lessening his hold. 

“You do make it hard, darling,” he said, releasing you. “But I will not be accosted by these two dickheads. What do you say? Can we make it the whole game?”

You grinned, promptly standing up from his lap. You placed yourself snug in between James and Remus, cooing when Sirius’s face turned into a pout.

“Don’t sulk, love. It is only temporary,” you said, smirking when your friends watched you with curious eyes. “I’ve got a game of my own.”

“Go on,” Sirius mused, already feeling himself wanting to reach for you. 

“We’ll beat their little game, that’s for sure. You lot can piss off if you think we’ll break that quickly.”

“We’ll see,” Remus said into his cup, taking a swig of his firewhiskey. “Five galleons on you losing, though. What’s your game, then?”

You set your hazy eyes on Sirius, feeling yourself warm as he looked back at you. It should be illegal for a man to look that pretty. It almost made you want to take back your proposition. But if there was going to be a game, it would be a game of your design. 

And you’d win.

“We’ll refrain from touching each other for the rest of the game. And after, we’ll see which of the two of us cracks first. Whoever caves and touches the other first is the loser.”

“Is there a consequence for losing? Anything at risk?” Sirius asked with eyes full of curiosity.

“Only your pride.” 

Your words made his grin widen, and he nodded, accepting your challenge. “You’re on, darling. I hope you’re prepared to lose.”

“In your dreams, Black.”

Mary grinned, clapping her hands together. “Alright! Let’s keep playing.”

—

You and Sirius worked together, successfully winning the bet your friends held against each other, much to their displeasure.

Amongst the sour faces, James was still grinning. “We may have lost our game, but one of them will lose theirs. I say Sirius caves first.”

“What? Why?” Sirius asked, whining. 

You laughed, patting James on the shoulder. “Thank you, James. It’s good to know someone believes in me.”

Marlene and Mary nodded, agreeing with James. But Lily shook her head, looking at you with uncertainty. Remus had the same look on his face. 

“You don’t think I can do it?” You asked, your question directed at Lily.

“I don’t think either of you can do it, but especially not you. You’re both ridiculously stubborn, but I think it’ll be you who caves first. You subconsciously reach for him after a while, it probably won’t even be an outright decision. You love him too much to hold out.” 

Remus nodded, agreeing. “All you gotta do is pay attention, Sirius. And do pay attention. I’m putting five galleons on you.” 

“I’ll take that bet. Five galleons on Y/N,” James grinned, holding his hand out for Remus to shake. 

They shook on it, and you rolled your eyes. Your friends had little faith in you. If they were getting money out of this, then you had to get something out of it, too. It’s not as if it would negatively affect Sirius. He had enough money that it wouldn’t matter how much he gave up. The only thing he’d be losing is his pride. And that seemed like a very fair price. 

“I think we should put money on it, Sirius. Whoever loses owes the other something from Hogsmeade the next time we go.”

Sirius had already begun wanting to give up the game entirely. He wanted you back in his lap, with his arms around your waist. But your friends were watching, and he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. 

He nodded, leaning back into the couch cushions. “You’re on, darling. Prepare to lose.”

Marlene looked between the two of you, nearly rolling her eyes. “You both talk a big game. Let’s play another round and see how it goes, yeah?”

You nodded, and everyone continued on, getting progressively tipsier. 

—

You had all had your fill, and by end of the second round, the girls were beginning to yawn. Lily rubbed her eyes, standing up from where she was sitting. 

“Alright, I’m off to bed. You’ll have to let me know who won tomorrow. Goodnight,” she said, waving to everyone as she began climbing the stairs to her dorm. 

Mary nodded, reaching for Marlene as she stood. “Us too, darling. I don’t fancy falling asleep on this couch for all the first years to see us in the morning.”

“Me either,” Remus said, clapping Sirius on the shoulder before standing up too. “Good luck, mate.”

James scoffed, standing up and clapping you on the shoulder as well. “You all have no faith. Good luck, Y/N. I better be five galleons richer in the morning.”

You saluted him, letting him pass you to go up the stairs. “Yes sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Attagirl,” he called down the steps, before you heard the sound of a door closing. 

When they were all gone, you turned to Sirius. He was looking at you with hazy eyes, a grin plastered on his face. Like it was second nature, you scooted closer to him, wanting to be as close as you could be without actually touching him.

He groaned when he noticed, dramatically scooting away. “Stop it! You’re not going to win.”

“Might as well give it up now. You know you’re going to cave first.”

Sirius pouted, and you smiled, watching him intently. He looked tired. You grabbed the pillow next to you, tossing it into his lap. You laid back, letting your head rest against it.

He tensed up, raising his hands. “Is this not cheating?”

“It may be,” you smiled up at him. “But I’m not touching you, and you’re not touching me.”

“Feels like cheating.”

You groaned, sitting up. “It was a joke, darling. The pillow is for you, you look tired. Lay down.”

He grinned, tossing the pillow into your lap and laying his head down. You tried to hide your smile, letting him settle himself. Once he stilled, he looked up at you with unsure eyes. 

“What is it, love?” You asked, making him sigh. 

“This is remarkably less fun without your hand in my hair.”

You let out a laugh, nodding. “I agree. Should we do something about that?”

He said nothing, only gazing up at you. You took this time to look at him, really look at him. He was fucking stunning. So pretty, it actually hurt to look at him. And he was looking up at you with hazy eyes and pink cheeks, so adorable that you felt like you could burst into tears just looking at him. You were seconds away from caving, when he drew you from your thoughts.

It was his turn to ask now. “What is it?”

You sighed, hovering a finger just over the tip of his nose. “You’re beautiful, do you know that? So beautiful.” 

Sirius flushed a deeper pink, stilling as you ran your finger mere centimeters above his features. You traced them in the air, starting with his nose before moving to his eyes. Then over his cheekbones, and down to his chin. As you skimmed over his lips, Sirius let out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. 

“Don’t make a fuss,” he said, raising a hand. “Just let me do this.”

Gently, he took hold of your hand, pressing your finger down to meet his cheek. He sighed in relief, and you smiled, beginning to caress his face in the way you were desperate to just moments ago. You ran your thumb along his cheek, feeling his skin under your touch. Sirius reached for your free hand with his, intertwining your fingers.

“I’m so glad you did that,” you muttered as he held your hand.

“Why?”

“Because if you hadn’t broken first, I was seconds away from doing it myself,” you mused, moving your fingers from his face into his hair. “It’s a bit pathetic that we can't go more than a few hours without touching each other.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, closing his eyes as you began running your fingers through his hair. 

“No?”

“No. I love you, why shouldn’t I show it?”

You smiled, bending down to press a kiss into his hair. “I love you…even though you lost.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius laughed, reaching up to grab you by the shoulders, pulling you down into him. 

You laughed along with him, shifting down so that you were both laying down on the couch. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, pressing your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laying his cheek on top of your head. You relished in his touch, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“I vote we don’t fess up in the morning. I don’t want to give any of them the satisfaction. When they ask, we’ll call it a tie. Agreed?”

“You’d give up your bragging rights?” He asked, laughing when you slapped his arm. “Agreed, darling. Agreed.”

You leaned up to press a kiss into his shoulder, before settling back into his chest. “But I won…you’ll remember that, won’t you? You owe me something from Hogsmeade.”

You couldn’t see his smile, but you could hear it as he clutched you tighter to him. He stifled a laugh, feeling himself ease with you back in his arms. 

“Yes, my love. I’ll remember it.”

—

A/N - Hi! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!

[a-b-riddle]

tw: bondage. Body hair removal. A bit of torture? (imo it would be) teasing. This is just… idk. Weird. Just a blurb about ingrown hair and how Price would handle it.

Price told you when you first got together how he liked his women groomed. He didn’t shy away from it. The man knew what he liked 🤷🏼‍♀️

And that was some hair down there. Be it a bit of scruff or a full bush, he liked his women to have hair.

“Need something to keep that pussy warm while I’m away.” He once joked.

But you had thought it was just that.

A joke.

At least it was until you had shaved everything — and I do mean everything— to be a bit spontaneous and boy were you regretting it now.

John had refused to eat your pussy. At first you thought he was being a right prick refusing you until you felt the scratch of his beard against your very sensitive cunt. You practically pulled him up by his ears while he met you with a cocky “I told you so” look on his face.

You didn’t even like being bare down there, but his smug ass smirk had riled you up. You had insisted on keeping yourself shaved, making John’s eyebrow raise in a challenge. He had warned you what would happen if he wasn’t able to get his mouth on you.

Shame you didn’t listen.

Ingrown hairs and obvious irritation made you feel absolutely disgusting. It was perfectly normal, but the constant scratching like you were trying to relieve an itch from a veenirial infection wasn’t exactly… sexy.

You had passed through it. Making a vow to never do it again….

Until you did.

And John had warned you.

Which was why on the second day after shaving, he had tied you to the bed. You had prepared yourself for a proper fucking only to feel that tickle begin to spread the moment he secured the final cuff.

You didn’t know what a devious fucked you had married. Only John Price would refrain from eating your pussy (his favorite past time) in order to prove a point.

You were nearly in tears after thirty minutes of having the irritation flare up and nothing you could do to relieve it. To make matters worse, John was barely a few inches from your soaked cunt.

“Would love to get my mouth on you, but I don’t wanna hurt you like last time.”

“You won’t,” you promised. Pulling at the restraints. Angling your hips upwards to get closer to him.

“Warned you what would happen if you bothered your pussy again. No need to shave it down. I can see her juuuuust fine.” He teased.

“John, please.” Tears had began to spill from your eyes at this point. Not sure whether from the sexual frustration or the torment of not being able to relief the other ache from between your thighs.

“Promise me you won’t take a bloody razor to this pretty little cunt.” He practically growled, his breath hot against you. In that moment you would have never picked up a razor to shave any part of you if he had asked.

When he was finally satisfied with your pleading, he released you. Telling you when she’s a bit more covered and could handle it, he’ll have you sitting on his face. But for now there was a brand new exfoliation glove in the bathroom that he read would help.

You practically bolted out of the bed. No longer caring about coming six ways to Sunday. You had an itch that you definitely didn’t want John to scratch.

[d3adbr3inc3lls]

Hi!! Could you maybe write performer reader x amethio?

Amethio x Preformer!Reader | HCs & Drabbles

Note-- some of this is written at unholy hours of the morning(/lh) so some parts may not make sense, but I edited this in the morning again, so hopefully that balances it out.

Amethio was usually too focused on his work to look at work to watch anything really,

Conia was the one who showed him the pokémon performers, and you instantly stood out to him.

No matter what pokémon you had with you, you always brought out their full potential,

For crying out loud, you could be using Giratina and you'd be able to make the deity look graceful and like it doesn't have some twisted backstory

You were able to ace most, if not all, challenges that came your way.

Sure you may have struggled with some, but you kept going. You never backed down and that's what he loved about you.

The two of you probably met through Conia, she was a close friend of yours who was always there to support you, and even though you hesitated slightly at meeting Amethio, her superior, who wouldn't? You expected him to be a serious adult and not someone your own age, but she later convinced you that it was a good idea.

When you two finally met, you were in Sinnoh to relax and train your 'mons, and Conia, alongside Zir and Amethio were there because they heard of Kleavor and wanted to get to it before the RVT did.

You two meeting was a complete coincidence and it was unplanned, (Conia originally planned on having the two of you meeting up after their current mission which was to track down Kleavor), so it was a suprise when you heard your best friend yelling your name.

Hearing your name being yelled you quickly spun around to meet a familiar greyish-blue haired woman running over to you.

The two of you have been friends since highschool, and thinking back on it, she was like an older sister to you, always helping you get to class and was the main reason you passed calculus.

Crashing into your arms she gave you a tight hug, clearly missing someone who she views as a younger sibling. Your beloved partner pokémon quickly glances up at the two of you before letting out a happy cry and glancing at Conia, waiting for her to release her Psyduck.

You could see a taller man -who you assumed is Zir- somewhat behind her covering with a shorter man as they approached the two of you rather slowly.

"Your last performance was great, even Amethio and Zir watched you,"

A smile of pride paints Conia's face before she releases her Psyduck -now Golduck- to play with your 'mons.

"Really,?"

You would've never believed it yourself if it weren't for Zir nodding behind her, you wouldn't have believed her. Zir was never interested in anything related to performances, and as far as you've heard, Amethio would probably find it not worthy of his time as he's often training to get better.

But you were suprised to see that you were so wrong with assuming Amethio wouldn't watch you perform,

He enjoyed every moment of your performance, even the challenges that happened before.

The 'challenge' that happened before you had a performance against the Kalos Queen, Serena, involved a pokémon battle.

Not just any regular battle- well, it was a regular battle but it had a spin- you had to show off your partner's moves, and the way they phrased it was a bit off, but it was like a performance whilst battling,

If the two of you ever began to date, expect him to be at every performance. He loves watching you and your pokémon preform, even if you don't win and get to compete in the next rounds, he still is proud of you, knowing how hard it must be to perform not only infront of hundreds of people in person but probably thousands if you concider those watching online.

With that being said, if you ever struggle oe need help, he's the last person you should ask.

Amethio only knows pokémon moves in a literal battling sense, not a performance sense, so he won't be able to help you.

He barely even understands how you manage to turn any move into one for show instead of damage.

But expect him to be there for every performance (he will try his best to go to them, even if it means sneaking out and doing dumb teenager things, he doesn't mind it as much),

Quickly scanning the area, you look for the familiar ravenhead, he's always there to greet you after your performances, -but he did say that he might not be able to meet you because of something to do with summoning a legandary pokémon or something similar that you didn't understand-

You've changed into your regular clothes after the performance for comfort and possible safety issues as you've heard many rumours and horror stories of performers -especially female performers- being harassed by crazed fans.

Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you quickly spin around, anxious to see who may have recognised you, until you heard the familiar voice that put your mind at ease.

"I apologise, I had to get something, that's why I'm late," the familiar ravenhead told you as he handed over a bouquet of flowers, he had always bought you something after your performances without fail, and it truly makes you appreciate him more than you currently do if that's even possible.

In all honesty, you probably wouldn't be aware of Amethio's occupation and role with the Explorers, he doesn't want you to talk to the other admins as he doesn't want either of you to be targets of their comments.

If he does see any of them when the two of you are out, he'd try and avoid them,

If he can't avoid them, he'd definitely deal with them, excusing himself politely, saying that he sees one of colleagues and it is in your best intrest to not interact with them.

Amethio's worst nightmare would be Sango or Spinel finding out you're dating him.

Sango would make her usual Sango remarks whilst Spinel would tell him how shallow he is, spoiler alert- he isn't, he genuinely cares for you, and how it's a typical teenager relationship that probably won't last long

Jokes on him, Amethio never planned for the relationship to be short and genuinely wants it to work out, but if you ever want to leave, he won't stop you.

[pedroshotwifey]

Melted Desire (Wax Play)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x AFAB!reader

W/C: 507

Rating: Mature

A/N: This, although embarrassingly late, is my input for @iamasaddie's Writing Challenge 3.0. I'm sorry it's not much, but it's what I've got. I'm trying very hard to get my ass back online, but it's been hard. Promise I won't be gone forever though. Please never be afraid to reach out to me for anything ♥

*****

You hiss as the hot wax hits your stomach. It’s only a few drops but it still hurts for a delicious moment before it begins to cool into small, hardened droplets on your sensitive skin. Your abdomen flexes and your hips cant up as you try to chase an invisible source of pleasure. 

The first time Oberyn brought up the idea of hot wax, you had been hesitant. Now, as you open your eyes to find your lover’s gaze pinned on yours, you can’t imagine not giving it a chance. His eyes are hungry as they drift from your heaving chest to your parted lips. 

You’re full of lust and adrenaline, your eyes hooded and brows furrowed slightly as you pant short breaths of air. Your entire body is hot despite the goosebumps covering most of it. You can only imagine what you look like to him right now. Needy, maybe. No—desperate sounds about right. 

As if to confirm your thoughts, he watches down on you for a moment before tutting sympathetically and leaning back up. He sets the dripping candle in his hand down on the nightstand, giving him the freedom to gently trail his knuckles on your breasts. He moves his fingers to your left nipple, already covered in red wax, and gives it a careful pinch. Your breath hitches in surprise, your body squirming as he rubs it off. 

Oberyn laughs at your efforts to move even with your restraints. “Poor dove,” his smooth voice tauntingly cuts in. “Don’t worry, you’ll be free of your cage soon enough.” 

He leans down and takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth, making you whine his name. Your wrists strain against the ribbon tying you to the bed as you instinctually try to grab his hair. Your joints ache with how much you’ve been pulling and flexing, but it’s worth it for the excitement it adds. 

Knowing he has full access to your body to do whatever he pleases satisfies something deeper and more complex inside of you. Though you know, of course, that he wouldn't do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Knowing that, is a whole other feeling. To have full trust in a person is a beautiful thing. 

“Oberyn, please,” you beg. Your poor pussy is throbbing, your clit hard and sensitive against the cool evening air coming through the window. You’re shaking with want, trembling from how badly you need release. You feel teeth against your nipple and yelp as Oberyn gently bites down. 

Your heavy breathing is the only thing to be heard throughout the dimly lit room as he lets up. His eyes find yours and the lust, mischief, and love you find swimming in his chocolate irises makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Patience, my love,” he reminds you. “Let me have my fun.” He picks the candle back up and brings it above your inner thigh. You moan as he slowly tilts it to let the melted crimson fall over your skin, knowing you’ll soon indeed be rewarded for your patience.