#it indeed is consentual

[maegalkarven]

Dreams of Red.

Characters: Enver Gortash, Dark Urge (Nemo).

Set between Empty Prayers and returning to BG in act 3.

Nemo dreams, Gortash wakes up.

TW: blood (mention), physical abuse (mention), choking, suggestive, not toxic but also not a healthy relationship (meaning they are awful but together kind of cancel it for each other).

He dreams of home; not the home in the flesh, but that place of dark alcoves and labyrinths made out of caves. He dreams of blood rivers running down the steps, of red fire lit sockets on a giant skull.

He dreams of his assassins, the unlucky souls who fated to meet him once and were damned enough to be caught in his gaze.

The First kneels before the altar, a tribute plastered on it, eyes closed in a reverent prayer.

She does not actually pray, somehow he knows it as well as he knows how many heartbeats are currently booming inside these halls.

The First is deep in thoughts and her thoughts are dark knots of resentment, anger and despair.

She grieves.

"Reaper of Bhaal," they turn around together as one; the girl made murderer made assassin and the benefactor who brought her there. So close to the girl's body he can taste the blood and sweat on her skin, sees dark shadows under her cold calculating eyes.

"Orin," falls from the First's lips. This is disobedience, he knows it somehow, for she is not simply Orin, but the Chosen of Bhaal.

Or is she?

"Look at what you have done," Orin-not-Orin says and her voice ricochets from the ceiling. It sounds...different.

It multiplies and shakes, and twists, and then suddenly its Sceleritas' voice.

Orin keeps opening and closing her mouth, but the sound he hears does not come from her.

"Look at the deeds of your disobedience. Once proud Temple of the most Gracious of the gods, now intruded upon by a mindless, senseless being you were supposed to enslave," an invisible hand closes over his throat, constricting the air.

He sees black and then red and then - Father.

Father is angry and that anger washes over him in waves, breaking his skin and piercing soft innards.

•••

He is seven again, bloodied heap of limbs on the floor as his caretaker walks around in circles.

"You're weak," Sarevok speaks. The boy hates Sarevok for how much his approval means to him. "You're fragile. You disappoint Father with your single existence. Stand up," a blunt hit across the spine. "Stand up and learn." Another hit. "Prove yourself worthy to be called a Child of Bhaal."

He is seven and he already talks more than he should, so he asks.

"Like you?"

Sarevok's unnaturally bright eyes blaze and the next hit landing on the boy makes him black out for a moment.

"Stand up," he hears again as his conscience returns. "Or die a scum and come back to Him graceless."

He stands up.

•••

Blood fills up his mouth, blood fills up his lungs. He gasps, choking, fighting the gravity - and swims up.

The pool is deeper than it should have been, the sacrificial room is darker, and Father's presence pierces his skull like thousand of red hot needless.

"Beloved son," Sarevok announces and the Echoes repeat. "Prodigal son, bathed in sacrificial blood in Your name, Father. Greet the unholy assassin born anew, Lord Bhaal, grace him with your presence."

He wants to step back, to avoid what is to come, but Bhaal is in his mind in an instance: an endless, darkest, bloodiest night.

The presence of Father is so strong the boy feels his own mind disappear, drown in the sheer force of his father's love.

Finally. He is worthy.

•••

Hands - bloodied, sheets - bloodied. Body after body, cold bed, red bed, sacrificial bed. Lover after lover, dead, dead, dead, dead.

Until the last one.

Until-

•••

He wakes up to the scene of Enver's flushed up face beneath him, the assassin's hands grasping at his throat firmly, pressing down, down, down, until the windpipe gives out, until the light leaves the eyes-

Nemo breaks the hold and collapses into the bed; not his bed, but the one he managed to crawl into in his sleep regardless. Gortash goes into the fit of coughs, proving once again how alive he still is.

Finally the man calms it down and tries his voice, hoarse from all the abuse.

"Good morning to you too."

Nemo doesn't reply, face digging into the rough pillows bellow - they used to be much softer than that - covering himself with Enver's blankets.

"Nemo," he refuses to answer. "Oh, for fuck's sake," the covers are dragged off his head, said head - turned.

Bluish bruises slowly imprint themselves on Enver's neck, prominent even in the dim light of the tent.

He appears to be annoyed.

"I said," the lord repeats. "Good morning."

Nemo contemplates tearing into this throat with bare teeth and chewing his way into the sweet red embrace of it.

"Nemo."

"Morning," he grumbles, unhappy. With this, with them, with the way Enver doesn't even look surprised, doesn't even care he almost died.

Again. He almost died again.

Something in the man's face softens.

"Bad dream?" And it's a cue for Nemo to crawl closer, to plant his face directly into the throat he was just squeezing the life out of, to put his lips to a pulse line and drink in the sound.

"Umgh," he replies unhelpfully. "Father is angry with me."

He can't remember the last time Father was not angry with him.

Enver sighs.

"At least he's still with you."

Nemo bites into the soft flesh slightly and then licks down at the bite.

"I wish he wouldn't," the admittance is so quiet it should be impossible to hear. Enver hears it anyway.

"And what would you do," a soft touch to his temple, nails scratching at the nape of his neck. Nemo feels his body relax at the merest of the contact. "If he'd let you go?"

"Whatever the fuck I want," another half-hearted bite. Enver always tastes divine. It makes Nemo want to tear at his flesh, crawl into his ribcage and stay there, forever as one. "Whoever I want."

"Oh?" His lover chuckles at that. "Have a list of men you want to fuck without killing them?"

No, Nemo thinks. Well, maybe. Not a list, no, but-

"I'd love to wake up someday without my body moving on its accord," he grumbles, tracing a scar down Enver's torso. A long and rigged thing running all the way to his abdomen. One of the earliest marks Nemo has left on him.

"I'm still alive," Gortash reads between the lines.

"You seem to be incredibly unbothered by the way I go for your throat, not even metaphorically speaking," the spawn comments. "Figures you'd be into me failing to kill you."

"You're not failing," Enver's breath burns into his hair, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. "You stray your hand."

"One day I won't."

"Today is not that day."

"You keep saying it every time it happens."

"I am alive every time it happens."

There's blood underneath his nails: it tastes sour.

There's also a row of deep red lines scratched somewhere into Enver's flesh.

Nemo snuggles up closer.

"I hate everything in this world but you," he confesses.

His lordling hums.

"I consider you a rare feat of a person who delights me more than not," he replies.

Nemo laughs.

"Smooth, motherfucker."

Enver gasps, fake-scandalized.

"But dearest, you don't even have a mother for me to fuck."

The spawn giggles like a lovesick girl and closes his eyes.

After a moment he opens his mouth again.

"How is," and how do you say it? How is everything? How are the ruins of your life? How does everyone at the camp treat you?

How does he say what he wants to say without, you know, actually saying it?

"Is Bane still silent?" He resolves on and then mentally kicks himself. Of fucking course Bane is still silent.

But again, so is Gortash.

"Yes," he replies after such suffocating pause Nemo started to wonder who was chocking who. "I...don't think he'll answer."

"I wish Bhaal would shut the fuck up," Nemo blurts and receives a surprised chuckle into his hair.

"Have you tried telling him that?" Even without looking up Nemo knows Gortash is smiling.

"Do you really think father dearest would listen?" He grumbles back. "He just gave me a lecture on how bad of a son I am."

"Aren't we all?" Enver's hands move in soothing circles up and down his lower stomach, inciting a rush of goosebumps and a wave of heat. Nemo catches one of the hands and moves it even lower.

"I'm going to be the absolute nightmare to be in any relation to," he states as Enver's swift fingers start doing their job.

"You're absolute nightmare in any other accord too," his lover murmurs into his ear, bringing out the first breathless sigh out of his lips. "And I don't think I'd want you any other way."

Well, if this is what Enver's into, who is Nemo to deny him?

•••

Karlach glares at the column of Gortash's neck with a scowl so deep it should have been cut directly into her skin, not pulled up by the muscles.

"I didn't do that to myself," Enver comments for some goddamn reason, making the entire situation more awkward than it already was.

The wizard chokes on air.

"Yeah, we didn't really think you did," former sharran comments, eyes darting to where Nemo is seated, stoically ignoring any inquiring gazes straying his way. "That would be anatomically impossible."

"You never know," the lord feels the need to argue. "I am man of many talents."

The vampire spawn snorts.

"Something tells me this is the product of someone else's talents," he comments.

Young Ravengard clears his throat.

"I have questions," he admits.

Enver seizes him with a stare.

"And do you want to hear the answers?"

"Not...really, no."

"Good. It seems we are on the same page then."

"I hate this fucking family," Karlach murmurs.

"Darling," the vampire starts. "I am touched! But also this one is more dysfunctional than the family I left behind, and those were the vampire spawns."

"My father is the God of Murder," Nemo comments from the distance. "How about that for dysfunctional?"

"And aren't you a walking red flag, my dear."

"Hey, excuse me, I'm the nicest murder incarnate you'd ever meet-"

This entire group of losers, Gortash decides. Is a freak show.

It might be just worthwhile enough to stick around.

[alter-ego-xxx]

Barty giving Evan head from beneath the table during his poker game trying to crack his boyfriend’s infamous poker face then get punished after Evan wins

nsfw (it's all safe, consentual and they have safewords to use if they need it)

They're in the casino, both in fancy suits, and get something to drink first. They seem like whiskey guys to me in that scenario. They're the first ones at the table, so Barty can disappear underneath it without anyone noticing. It's the usual for them by now: no matter where they are, if there's a possibility for Barty to sit next to Evan's legs on the floor, he will. It's the humiliation and feeling of powerlessness that does it for him. Now today, Evan couldn't resist his boyfriend in his tailored suit, so he edged him for a while before they got here, but didn't allow him to cum. Barty's still pissed about it, but also excited because hes quite sure that Evan is gonna finish what he started when they're back home. But Barty feels freaky today and wants to really get manhandled by his bf, so he does the one thing that he knows will get him a prolonged punishment later.

The game comes to its most important phase, and Barty starts dragging his hands over Evans thighs. His hand is moving higher and higher until he's cupping Evs evident arousal. Barty knows that Evan is fighting to keep his pokerface and that he's playing for a lot of money, but that's exactly what makes it so thrilling. He slowly unzips Evans trousers and gets his dick out. Without warning, he takes him completely into his mouth. Evan yelps a little and has to explain to the other players that there must be a mouse running around underneath the desk. Barty gets going, making it as sloppy as possible, all while trying his best at staying silent himself. Luckily, the game ends (and evan wins, of course) before he can get too close to his orgasm.

Evan gets really mad because he almost lost and drags Barty out of the casino and into their flat. That night, almost all of their toys get involved: rope, whips, handcuffs, vibrators, cock rings, everything gets used on Barty, who alternately cries for Evan to stop, orgasms and passes out.

He did indeed never bother Evan again while playing, but he found other ways to repeat this wonderful night, of which he was reminded for weeks, everytime he looked into the mirror or tried to sit down somewhere.

(Sorry, i have no idea how casinos or poker works, so i apologize if it was completely wrong. If I understood your ask wrong, feel free to send another one!)

[astarionmademewriteit]

Ch. 2: My Forbidden Lover

MDNI. 18+ ONLY. Blank bios will be blocked.

Enver Gortash x f!Durge (pre-tadpole)

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3.4k

Tags: Pure smut; Oral (female receiving); Face fucking; Dom/sub dynamic; Bondage; PIV rough sex; Blood kink; Cum Play; Praise and degradation kink; Bodily harm (in a sexual context); Orgasm denial (kinda? But not exactly); Choking; Biting; Durgetash is switch-coded; Subby Gortash; Minor jealousy; Brief mention of Astarion's background with non-consentual sex; Really graphic depictions of sex.

Summary: After having come to an agreement with Astarion and plotting to kill Cazador, the dark urge goes home with her lover Gortash where they engage in filthy sex.

A/N: Please refer to the first chapter to set the scene. This is pre-tadpole days where the Dark Urge has an established relationship with Gortash and befriends Astarion while he is still in the clutches of Cazador. The story will follow her eventual amnesia and Illithid kidnapping where she will fall for Astarion, who doesn't reveal the fact that he knew her from before the Nautiloid crash.

I meant for this chapter to spill over into the next day when Durge meets up with Astarion, but I'm a simp for Durgetash and it just got away from me. Please enjoy!

Ch. 1 | AO3

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵

We walk through the brisk night air, the stars spatter the sky–holding their ancient secrets close. I hook my arm through Gortash’s as we stroll through the streets. We are sporadically approached by admirers of Enver, offering their gratitude for all he has done for the city.

“I assume our new friend was receptive to your requests?” Enver murmurs once we catch a moment alone.

“He’ll warm to the idea. He is understandably terrified of Cazador,” I stroke his broad arms, contemplating my conversation with Astarion, “I sweetened the deal. In return for information, I promised to provide him with blood and a victim for Cazador. I assume that won’t be a difficult request to fulfill.”

Enver nods, “We can supply him with a thrall. They should comply willingly,” He stops and moves to face me, “As for the blood, dear assassin?” His question does little to hide the concern underpinning his tone.

“Enver, you wound me,” I close the little distance between us, pressing my body flush against his, “I have access to plenty of blood. Why are you concerned?” I cock an eyebrow, waiting for him to confess.

He chuckles darkly, recognizing my playful banter, “I do not relish the idea of sharing you. Especially your delectable blood,” he lines the column of my throat with gentle nips at my flesh, “I would hope that was just reserved for me,” he growls.

I run my fingers through his dark hair, pulling away to look into his eyes, “You have the exclusive privilege of spilling my blood, Enver,” I place a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, “In any case, Astarion and I are kindred spirits. I recognize myself in him,” I contemplated the thinly-veiled terror that he had tried hard to mask, but I recognized it for what it was immediately. His volatile environment wrangled him into submission, and he was forced to do things that I believe he was unwilling to do–completely severed from his own autonomy.

It was similar to my condition, although I still had the freedom to make choices–choices that Astarion was completely robbed of. It was my hope that our new agreement would help him regain some of his autonomy, no matter how little–even if it was to my advantage, at least for now. I felt a small pang of guilt, wondering if he felt used in other ways instead. I would have to ask him tomorrow.

“Indeed,” Enver agrees after a moment, “But, do not lose sight of the grand design, my love. We are no heroes”

A smile plays on my lips, “If I didn’t know better Enver, I would think you were jealous,” I hook my arm through his once again and we begin our tread back to his waiting palace.

Once we are safely inside the confines of his home I rest on the edge of Enver’s desk while he writes correspondence and runs through the list of powerful targets that threaten our plans. Next on our list was the beloved Duke Ravenguard–he could be a powerful asset should we enthrall him with an Illithid tadpole. I offer to send Orin, my bloodkin, to complete the task so that we may focus on other things.

“That’s enough work for tonight, my dear,” I caress his cheek with the back of my knuckles and he watches me with a darkened expression. I lift myself from his ornate mahogany desk and move towards Enver who still sits in his chair. I turn and sit on his lap, peering over my shoulder and watching him expectantly.

He sweeps my hair to one shoulder and slowly begins to pull the zipper down the back of the evening gown I wore to Cazador’s ball–taking great care to ensure the delicate fabric does not catch in the zipper.

I stand and let the soft fabric slip from my shoulders until the garment pools at my feet. His eyes rake over my exposed body, drinking in my frame with hungry eyes. I drive the heel of one of my shoes into his chest, waiting patiently as he nimbly unbuckles the straps around my ankle. He places small kisses up the calf of my leg, nipping at my flesh–hungry to taste me.

I kick off my heel and repeat the same gesture with my other foot. He glides his hand up my calf to my inner thigh, digging the claws of his gold filigree gloves into my flesh. His hard grasp dimples my flesh until he draws blood and a sigh escapes my lips. He places small kisses along my inner thigh as he works to unbuckle my shoe.

Once I have discarded my shoe, I watch him with eager eyes as he works his way towards my upper thigh, savoring the way his lips feel as they bite and suck at my flesh–tasting my blood. I intertwine my fingers through his dark hair, willing him to focus his attention at the apex of my thighs.

His agonizing slow pace up my inner thigh has me growing impatient, “Enver,” I growl in warning, tightening my grip on his hair until a satisfied groan falls from his lips.

“Far be it from me to keep my favorite assassin waiting,” he murmurs before swiping his tongue up the seam of my dripping cunt. I instinctively pull at his hair more aggressively as he tongues and sucks at my sensitive clit. My legs immediately begin to shake as pleasure undulates through my body.

Enver repositions my leg until it is resting on his shoulder, providing him with a new devastating angle that practically sends me into a frenzy. I hold his head against my aching cunt and throw my head back as I hear his stifled breathing. “Be a good boy for me, Enver,” I growl, “You may only draw breath once I’ve been satisfied, or you can suffocate. Whichever comes first.”

He moans as he slips his tongue into my slick entrance, nosing my clit in the process. His warm tongue fucking me expertly until I’m panting uncontrollably. He hums into my pussy, sending tantalizing vibrations straight to my core.

He hooks his arm around my thigh, pulling me closer as he hungrily services me–his golden filigree claws drawing more blood as they dig deliciously into my flesh. The pain brings me such pleasure that I can feel myself building to a dizzying crescendo.

Enver continues to drag his tongue in slow concentric circles around my clit, sucking and nipping at it until I’m losing myself–spiraling into an intense climax that has me writhing underneath his tongue. I grind myself against his face–his stubble adding another layer of overwhelming sensations that has me coming undone just for him. He growls against me as I drag my sensitive cunt against his face, relishing the way I use him for my pleasure.

Once I’ve come down from my orgasm, Enver pulls away–his face gleaming with my slick. I pull him up by the collar of his robe, and we collide into a feral kiss. The taste of my arousal and the coppery aftertaste of blood fills my mouth as our tongues slide against one another.

I finger at his robes, clumsily unlacing the clothes that separate me from his flesh. He assists me in removing his clothes, our lips crashing back together with a ferocity that could buckle my knees. I push him hard until he is falling on the bed behind him, my eyes scanning his exposed flesh, devouring him completely. I circle the bed before grabbing his wrist and binding them to the bedpost with barbed wire that cuts deeply into the exposed flesh beneath his golden lattice gloves. I repeat the gesture with his other wrist, and watch as blood flows freely from his wrists–dripping down his arms in crimson rivulets. I drag my tongue up his arm, drinking in the taste of his life-essence, and ecstasy thrums through my body at his flavor.

“You taste so good, my love,” I murmur before making my way to the foot of the bed and crawling up his body until I’m straddling his waist.

“It’s all for you, my assassin,” he croaks, his voice gravelly and thick with lust.

I drag my nose up his throat, sucking and kissing at his salty skin. I sink my teeth into the soft flesh where his neck meets his broad shoulders, and Enver cries out in pleasure as blood rushes to the surface. I can practically hear his heart beating against his ribcage as blood fills my mouth–his wrists pulled taut against his restraints, causing more blood to flow freely from his veins.

“I love when you bleed for me, Enver,” I growl into his ear. His heavy panting rings like music through the bedroom, and I savor the way his body writhes impatiently beneath me, “You’re doing so well,” I praise, which only spurs his need to be inside me.

“Please,” he whispers, begging to feel my cunt wrapped around his leaking cock.

“Oh, Enver,” I whisper seductively, cupping his face with my hand, “How I love to watch you squirm.” I line myself up with his throbbing cock, already leaking with pre-cum.

His swollen head immediately stretches me wide open, and I cannot stop the moan that falls from my lips as he fills me completely. Enver whimpers beneath me as my pussy slides down his length at an agonizingly slow pace until I am sitting flush against him. I clench around him instinctively, forcing another moan to escape his lips.

I lean over and crush my lips to his as I begin to rock my hips seductively against him. I bite hard into his lip, drawing more of his sensational blood–relishing the coppery taste as it fills my senses completely. My nails dig into his hairy chest and welts immediately begin to form, marking him as mine.

I lift myself up and begin riding him slowly, savoring the way his cock spears into me–threatening to split me in two. I clench my pussy around his length every time his cock withdraws from me, effectively massaging his swollen head.

“Gods below,” he moans underneath me, “You’re so perfect, my dear assassin.” He instinctively bucks his hips, brushing against my cervix and causing me to cry out in shock. He drags his cock slowly out of me before forcefully thrusting back inside, hitting my sweet spot with agonizing precision. The barbed wire confining his wrists continues to pull blood from his flesh, painting him like a beautiful masterpiece.

I lean back, propping myself on his thighs as I continue to ride him relentlessly–allowing him to watch as he pierces me with his throbbing member. My arousal rings like a symphony throughout the room, only spurring me to ride him harder. My nails dig into his thighs, bringing more blood to the surface. I watch as his body slowly trickles with blood and images of our own demise flit through my mind.

I knew I wanted to keep him until fate intervened and I was forced to kill him and myself in Bhaal’s name. It would be incredibly beautiful, slicing his flesh open until he had been drained of blood completely. I would die a beautiful death next to my lover–and I would be free of the carnage I was meant to exact on this world. And it would all be by his side.

As the images flit through my mind, my desperation becomes more prominent. I can feel myself nearing the edge of no return. My body begins to quiver as he continues to meet me thrust for thrust until I am exploding into a tantalizing climax–falling over the edge into a depth of pleasure that I could only ever experience with Enver.

His name falls from my lips and echoes throughout the room like a haunted hymn as he coaxes the pleasure from my body. Enver’s breathing becomes ragged and I can tell he is chasing his own release. I cannot help the sadistic tendencies that wash through my body in moments like these.

I wrap a shaky hand around his throat as I continue to ride him with newfound ferocity born from my own ecstasy. He watches me with a dark expression as he nears his own climax, biting at his bruised bottom lip as I apply pressure to his throat, cutting off his blood flow momentarily.

His eyes roll into the back of his head and a dangerous smirk plays on my lips when I think about how desperate he sounds. Just when he is on the verge of climax, I pull myself off him completely and watch as thick ropes of cum spill from him and onto his stomach. He bucks his hips desperately searching for any kind of friction that will ride him through his climax–to no avail.

I release my grip from his neck and he eyes me with unfiltered frustration when he realizes the game I’m playing. His wrists are pulled taut against the barbed wire–the metal digging into his flesh as he struggles against them, desperate for some satisfaction as his hollow orgasm washes through him.

He lets out an animalistic growl as I remove myself from the bed, a dark grin gracing my features as I watch him struggle. “Oh, Enver,” I chuckle sadistically, “You never learn, do you?” I inch towards a bar cart and pick up an expensive decanter, leisurely pouring myself a glass of rich dark liquor. I seat myself in his chair, and watch as he grows more desperate by the minute.

“Please, my love,” he eyes me with wild anguish, pulling against his restraints harder than before–ignoring the stinging pain that travels through his arms. I cross my legs and lean back, taking another sip of the strong liquor. It burns my throat as it goes down, and the satisfaction I feel as I watch him squirm is delectable. My body welcomes the warmth of a roaring fire nearby and I sit and watch as he fights against his restraints–admiring the way his crimson blood paints his flesh.

“Gods, you look so pathetic, Enver,” I chuckle, “It’s utterly adorable.” I throw back the rest of the liquor–it’s rich burn soothing my throat and it’s warmth washing through my body completely.

Enver has settled down slightly, but I can tell he has found no satisfaction in his climax–just as I had hoped. “My beloved assassin, this hardly seems fair,” he grumbles–his voice perfectly diplomatic.

“When have you known me to play fair, my love,” I shoot back playfully, gripping the arms of the chair, “Besides, I’ve decided that you haven’t begged nearly enough for my liking.”

He glares at me from the bed, and a satisfied smile pulls at my lips as I wait patiently for him to convince me that he deserves his own fulfillment. Plea after plea begins to spill from his lips, his body continuing to fight against his restraints as he grows more and more desperate. I tap my foot impatiently as he continues to beg.

It isn’t until a tear of frustration falls from his eye do I stand, effectively quieting his supplications as he watches me closely. I move to the foot of the bed and crawl over him once again, and I can hear as his breath catches in the back of his throat. I drag my tongue across his stomach, licking up his spent–savoring its unique taste. I smack my lips when I’m done and note that Enver is hard once again as he watches me clean up the mess he made.

I pull away from the bed and move to release him from his restraints–kissing his wrists and sucking the blood that paints his skin in a rich crimson. I repeat the gesture once again with his other wrist. As soon as he is free from his constraints, he charges forward, pouncing on me like a wild, untamed animal.

“My turn,” Enver growls in my ear as he tangles his rough fingers into my hair and pulls back hard until I’m looking up at his looming form. He forces me across the room and throws me into the edge of his desk, the hard wood digging into my hips deliciously.

I whimper under his hardened touch as he bends me over his desk and presses my face into the desk with aggressive strength. He forces himself inside me without a moment to lose, desperate to feel my wet cunt wrap around his cock once again.

He begins a punishing pace, rutting his hips into me with unrelenting force that causes uncontrolled moans to fall from my lips. He places a large, rough hand on my waist and forces me down, causing me to arch my back until he is hitting my sensitive spot over and over again.

The force with which he fucks me into his desk causes papers to fall from the table top–teetering to the floor. Ink splatters across his desk as it tips over with every thrust. My cries rip through the air as he spears himself into me, allowing his frustrations to spill over into his movements.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he growls as he slams into me–the desk digging painfully into my flesh with every cant of his hips. I dig my nails into the desk, trying to steady myself, but it is useless as he continues to abuse my dripping pussy.

The force of his hips slamming into me sends me over the edge once again and I cry out with unfiltered ecstasy as I fall from grace–my orgasm rocking through my body causing my cunt to spasm wildly around his length.

“There you go, my dear assassin,” He growls, “Just like that, baby.” He talks me through my climax, and the rush of adrenaline courses through my body as his claws dig into my flesh, bringing blood to the surface.

I whine underneath him as he uses me for his own pleasure–our roles effectively reversed in a matter of minutes. His breath grows ragged as he watches his arousal spear into me over and over again with such force that I fear the desk will tip over.

Once I’ve recovered from my orgasm, I feel his thrusts becoming sloppier as he chases his own, deserved release. “Cum for me, Enver,” I beg as his breath grows heavy with ecstasy. He thrusts into me violently a few more times before he is spilling into me–his cock spasming wildly inside me as he cries out my name. He whimpers out a string of expletives as he is awarded with his own pleasure.

He leans over me, his body flush against mine as he continues to fuck through his orgasm–savoring the feeling he was so cruelly denied just minutes earlier. I moan loudly, his name falling from my lips like a prayer of devotion until he finally stills inside me.

We catch our breath, neither of us daring to move until we have regained our strength. Enver chuckles darkly above me before pulling out of me completely. I whine at his sudden absence but gather myself as much as possible. I will my shaky legs to move back to the bar cart and pour us both a drink while Enver rests in his chair, sweat dripping down his dark features.

I offer him a glass before curling into his lap and nuzzling into his shoulder, noting the dried blood streaks that mar his body. I bite back a satisfied smile as I replay the events of tonight in my mind.

After a moment, Enver sighs, “We have made a mess of things, my dear,” he ruffles my hair with a rough hand before chuckling under his breath. “I think a warm bath is in order.” I nod my head in agreement, suddenly too tired to speak. “We have a great many things to accomplish tomorrow, my lovely assassin.” He throws back his drink and polishes off his glass in a few large gulps.

I wrap an arm around his waist as I continue to nurse my drink–memorizing the way his body feels against mine. I laugh to myself, realizing that I could never forget how his body feels against mine. I turn my thoughts to what lies ahead, already calculating more plans for the grand design.

I couldn't imagine doing this without him–My forbidden lover.

[sleepnowmychild]

Ight hypnosers, let’s talk about it

Cw for talk of wet dreams and sex, also brief mentions of sexual trauma. Fair warning. But I’ve touched in nightmares so I think we should talk about the other well known kind of dreams too.

Wet dreams, that sexual shit. We all know what that is, and if you don’t you’re probably too young to be on the internet. A lot of the time, these dreams are purely just hormone induced, typically during puberty or if you’re trans, when you go on hormones and go through SECOND puberty (as a trans masc on T, believe me that shit hits you HARD at like months 3-7). But when Hypnos gets involved in these dreams it’s a reminder he isn’t just a gentle comforting being like he’s mostly portrayed as, but has a very much adult oriented side. This is a god who had male and female lovers, many kids of his own and was mainly worshiped in Ancient Greece, a very much sex everywhere time period. Seriously the amount of porn (gay porn to be exact) on Ancient Greek pottery is wild. And Roman coins too, there’s a bunch of them found.

So yeah, he’s got his gentle side, his more gloomy gothic side (nightmares, being the twin of death etc) and his “here have the kinkiest dream of your life” side. And there’s plenty of reasons why he’d send you a sexual dream to begin with. Helping you realise your sexuality, getting you to take notice of your pent up hormones, helping you realise you’re indeed attracted to that person you dreamed about, or alternatively that your NOT into them if you wake up thinking ‘ew, why them?’

And as for sexual trauma, sometimes those nightmares are simply PTSD, your own subconscious reacting to trauma. And sometimes like I said with the nightmares, it’s Hypnos telling you that you NEED to work through that trauma, to help you realise just how badly it’s hurting you subconsciously.

You can absolutely go to him for advice or help with these kinds of dreams, it’s within his domain so he absolutely won’t judge. He’s a god, he’s more knowledgeable and powerful than any of us will ever be, no god truly cares how much or how little mortals desire and act upon sexual urges (you know, unless it’s non consentual, you’ll get your ass kicked for that. ALWAYS get consent guys, and ALWAYS support victims).

Sex is still a stigmatised thing, despite the fact it’s literally how babies are made and completely natural. Even more stigmatised is queer and kinky sex/fantasies. So that societal pressure drilled into us from the moment we gain conciseness can make it feel like we can’t talk about it to anyone, even deities. Or that only deities directly linked to sex (e.g. Aphrodite and Eros) are the only acceptable ones to talk to. Get that idea out of your head ok? Because any deity will be open to talking about it, helping you with it etc. again, they’re deities. They couldn’t care less what us humans are into as long as it’s safe and consensual.

In fact, there’s a bit out there to suggest Eros and Hypnos were worshipped alongside each other. What is the bed used for other than sleeping? Exactly, sex. The bed is seen as a scarred place not only because it’s where you’re safe from the woes of the waking world, but because you invite people into it to perform acts that involve love and trust.

And what about if you’ve had a sexual dream WITH a deity in it? That’s probably a whole can of worms to be opened, I’m sure the godspousing people will probably be more of an expert on that than I am. Of course, it could just be your own subconscious, maybe you’ve got a bit of a crush on that deity (which is perfectly fine btw, unless they’re specifically a virgin deity who is all about staying celibate, then I’d raise an eyebrow). Or who knows? Maybe they’re trying to get something across to you. THAT is definitely something you’d want to talk about with them.

TLDR: Hypnos doesn’t care you have wet dreams, using your bed for sexual stuff etc. he’s absolutely ok with you talking to him about it, coming to him for help etc. don’t let the stigma around sex stop you from turning to him or any other deity for advice and guidance on your sexuality.

[leighsartworks216]

Little Mouse

Haarlep x Tav/Reader + Raphael

Just felt like writing some rough smut. It's honestly only by chance it happened to turn into Haarlep (and Raphael). I'm also a big fan of the idea of Haarlep being sympathetic and soft with an imprisoned Tav

THIS FIC CONTAINS THEMES OF NON-CONSENTUAL SEX

Warnings: implied non-con, rough sex, vaginal or anal sex, blood

Word Count: 732

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Haarlep’s thrusts are relentless. Hips slapping against your ass until you are certain you will be bruised in a few hours, minimum. If they’d let you bruise, that is.

The sheets burn your chest. The pillow nearly suffocates you as you're forced to press your face against it for any sort of leverage. Their chest scrapes your back, sweat barely preventing the friction between your skins.

Their fingers dig painfully into your left hip. The right pressed beside your head, supporting themselves up.

Your knees are spread. Their own kneel between them. Your arms can do very little but rest to the side, hands clutching futilely at the covers.

You are dripping onto the bed. Arousal, cum, sweat - theirs and yours. Staining the fabric beneath. They do not care. They relish in it. They would stuff you full just to sit back and watch it pour out, all while you twitch with overstimulation and overexerted muscles.

They press harder into you as their hand lets go of your hip to grab your throat. They lift your head from the pillow, granting you precious air. You choke on it through saliva and tears. They chuckle.

As their hips stutter, rutting their cock as deep as it will go inside of you, they grip the sides of your throat. You blink up at the wall. The headboard blurs as spots come in from the edges. Their lips kiss and suck mercilessly at your shoulder. Teeth puncture the skin until blood trails down to the bed. 

When they finally let go, your head is pounding. Their thumb runs over the bruises left behind, fingers stroke your jaw as they lower your head back to the pillow. They tut as they turn your head to the side for you. "Don't suffocate yourself, little thief."

You feel the bed shift around you. Their hand disappears as they push themself up to their knees, skin peeling off yours, sticky. Another hand pushes your ass cheek to the side, presenting your ruined self to them more clearly. Your skin is red and sore. A beautiful sight.

You nearly cry out as they slowly pull their cock out. You fist the sheets, body tensing and flinching away. They hush you, but pay no mind to you. They’re too busy watching as their cock slides out and cum follows, dripping along your skin in sticky strands. They reach the thumb of the hand holding your ass to drag the trail back to your stretched hole, pressing it back inside. You bite the pillow with a whimper.

"You did so good today, little mouse. Absolutely wonderful."

The bed shifts more as they slip off the end of the bed. Your legs shake, but you don't risk laying down. Not yet.

You listen as best you can as their bare feet pad against the cold floor. They round the side of the bed before coming to a stop. You barely open your eyes to see them smirking down at you. They trace a knuckle along your cheek.

"Roll over."

Every muscle in your body screams as you obey. You shiver as your back collides with the cold sheets next to you, inches away from the mess left behind.

Footsteps approach from the foot of the bed. Haarlep watches you tense as they stop. It’s as if your panting breaths become shallower, as though you are trying to hide. A little mouse, indeed.

“Bathe them. We’ll have company soon.” The steps round the bed, opposite of Haarlep. You peek open your eyes to find the grinning, satisfied face of Raphael looking down at you. Even more than when Haarlep used your body over and over again, you felt exposed under his gaze. “Remember well, mouse: You chose this fate.”

You shut your eyes. That is the last thing you wish to remember. He chuckles as his footsteps retreat, leaving you alone with his incubus. You curse all the gods whose names you remember. You curse every devil whose names you’ll never know. You curse yourself most of all, for allowing yourself to become Raphael’s personal plaything.

A warm hand brushes the sweat from your brow. When you open your eyes, Haarlep smiles almost sympathetically down at you. The kiss they leave on your cheek does not burn as the kisses they lavished across your spent body did. “Come, little thief. We must not disobey.”

[romana-after-dark]

Alpha!Logan I am shaking my fist!! He’s so justifying himself like oh she just needed the extra push to help her decide that we indeed needed to be together 😈. Reader is absolutely none the wiser bc he’s so doting and attentive during it and after. Just love it thank u for the nugget

The high of sex (consentually or not) and adrenaline mixed with aftercare is something that can easily be weaponized.

If you liked that, check out my pinned post story bc Logan is soooooooft after. Part 2 coming soon!

[opinated-user]

Interesting that Courtney mentioned Lily being upset at hearing that incest is bad because she made a video in defense of “consensual” incest relationships https://drive google.com/file/d/1Weg46szDiUcxAKbipzDUyqan8t-G8nO4/view (add a dot in place of the space between drive and Google)

i was aware of this video and here's why it's interesting. (please notice the "directed by Tara Callie". Tara, the pedophile, bestiality lover that had an incestuous relationship with her younger sister, that lied to Brittany for years about molesting LO while she was sleeping to get a reaction out of her. the same tara that later turned out to be just LO roleplaying all her fantasies. keep that in mind)

(also the too long intro that was clearly inspired by Channel Awesome) 1. she starts the video showing a picture of a man who kept his daughter in a basement to keep abusing her and have children with her, that he also abused, as the first image that a lot of people have about abuse. she tries to say "most people think all incestuous relationship involve some form of rape and coercion, but what about the relationships that aren't like that, like when two adults or teenagers for that matter (because teenagers suddenly have the emotional maturity of adults/s) enter into this relationships willingly." apparently the debate wether this relationships (that she even recognize many, many times do include coercion or rape) is the same thing as when people debate the legality of homosexuality (despite how is even rarer to find queer relationship entirely based in abusive dynamics. not that it doesn't happen, but it doesn't happens at all in the same frequency as with incest does. remember that this is LO thinking that she's progressive) 1. it starts with LO making up an anonymous parent being concerned that both of their children came out about being in an incestuous relationship, coming to her... a brony in the internet talking about MLP, for advice about what to do about it. the screenshot of that anon was so out of nowhere and weird that Josh had screenshot it for one of his videos about LO, using it as an example of "LO tries to talk about very serious issue and fails". this father was an anon, but for some reason (that reason being LO made them up) LO will take their word as 100% true and will even make assumptions entirely on her own around this asks that weren't even implied, like assuming that there wasn't any coercion or manipulation in the relationship of these teenagers. the obvious explanation is that she can just say that because she's just writing her own fanfiction and try to make it seem real, but if it were real... this would indeed the most irresponsible, disgusting and absolutely abuse apologist response that LO could have given. even taking out of the way the allegations from Courtney or how this became a pattern of being obssesed over incest through out the years, this is a bad video with bad argumentation that started on a bad premise and LO should feel bad about it. no english teacher would say this was good. 3. speaking of "teenagers for that matter" who supposedly are mature and old enough to take decisions about their life the same as an adult could, the "son" in the relationships is 15 and the daughter is... 14. LO in this video argues that a 15 teenage boy in no way coerced his younger 14 year old little sister into a relationship. why? because that does against the fanfiction that LO has on her head where she managed to succesfully coerce Courtney into commiting incest and is never called out for it as a bad thing. knowing what we do know now about their dynamics, this is not really about convincing anyone. this is just the fanfiction of everything she wishes it was true and then have someone assured her that it was fine, it was okay, that she didn't do anything wrong, that it was all consentual. just like how the majority of Stockholm treats rainbow dash pedophilia as perfectly fine and not at all concerning.

4. following this logic (no coercion, no abuse, simply because LO assumes/wishes there isn't), this is the advice that LO tells this father about what to do about the situation.

that's right. nothing. this father should do nothing because if he does, it will only make the teenagers insist more on their relationship and also hate their father for trying to separate them. so he should let them do anything they want, potentially allow his son to keep sexually abusing and grooming his daughter, because they won't like it if he tries to stop it. but don't worry, because this is all consensual (that was never established, those bad writer habits of LO assuming that the reader has the same information she does attack again) and surely these teenagers that are under the age of consent know what they're doing. or in the perfect fantasy of LO it does at least. 5. something i didn't notice before... the music that is on the background is "lullaby for a princess", a fan made MLP song that Celestia dedicate to her sister as she reflects on their relationship and her banishing. just... gross in this context. it's literally romanticizing this fictional incest couple even from the background. it's disgusting. 6. "they probably thought long and hard about this. they probably had long talks about this before agreeing to it."... having long talk about something any sibling didn't want until they finally gave in is the definition of grooming. LO's literally making up grooming out of thin air (because those teenagers don't exist) and then try to argue that the grooming is fine because there was "consent" in the end. i don't think LO knows what coercion is, because that's exactly it. if you have to keep talking the ear off someone in order to convince them to do something, that's coercion and that's part of grooming. you're just not using the correct terms. 7. in response to "it's morally wrong", LO says that morality is subjective and varied. that's the mantra of many predators and abusers. just saying.

funny enough, she does say that murder is "the one thing we all agree is horrible to do and only fine in the most extreme of cases"... it's just weird to think that even while doing a "incest between minors is okay" video, LO was still less extreme that how she's now a days. something to think about, i guess.

8. "the only idea of objective good and wrong we have is illegal and legal." is that why LO keeps thinking that threatening people with a lawyer she doesn't have is going to do anything?

9. "nobody wants to be the villain. everyone wants to be the victim". with how much we talk here about how LO wants to be the ultimate victim, more victim than any other victim, this might explain why LO will never admit to any of the horrible things she has done. because she wants to be only the victim, not the villain. she didn't realize then and won't realize now that you can be both. being a victim doesn't mean that you can't hurt others and being a villain doesn't mean that you can't be hurt.

10. "sir, you can only accept their relationship or don't. and if you don't accept it then you'll never be able to fully embrace who your kids really are." i had forgotten how much LO keeps comparing incest with queerness. grooming and coercing a sibling is not "part of who you're", it's a issue you should get seen by a professional.

as my conclusion after rewatching this, i want to say this... even if Courtney had never come out to say a word, just by knowing how obsesed LO is with incest and to try to justify it any way possible i feel like anyone would have come out thinking that these weren't just fantasies at some point. considering that LO made that comic about his "hot sister",why wouldn't you think that this is all related? why wouldn't you be concerned for that sister and what LO might have done to them? all of this just so say... if you don't believe Courtney for whatever reason, then do you really think someone that does a video like this, a comic like that one and openly talks about incest so much as she does is really a safe kind of person?

[titleknown]

HELLOWEEN #6: ANATAXIA

-Anattaxia is a Grand Wrecker of Hell with 4000 ruins and 50 blunt instruments to her name. She may be summoned for acts of demolition; consentual and otherwise, to bring injury and ill co-ordination to one's foes, and induce acts of defenestration within 500 acres of the summoning area. 

She appears as a horrid imp with the wings of a dragon-fly and the horns of a goat. It is not advised that the summoner complete the conjuration in their own home, for the structure in which she is summoned will be destroyed upon the instant of her manifestation.-

In the realms of hell, while there are few hard and fast rules of hiearchy until the moment one desires to use the law-as-written as a weapon against one's rivals, one of the most consistent hiearchies is those deemed as "imps" being at the bottom of the social order.

Consigned to the roles of servants, couriers, maintainers, disposable spies, gunsels in both senses, and otherwise maltreated professions, an imp's life in Hell is to be used as a treasured footrest at best and a disposable stepping-stool at worst.

But, Annataxia occupies an unusual position in her hierarchy in that she represents a physical threat. A quite formidable one too, manic in her disposition and requiring some... negotiation to avoid having my pages ripped out.

She is a legbreaker for those debts unpaid and for those peers one wants to disappear in "unfortunate accidents" along with the adjacent three floors of the spires they currently occupy.

It has gotten her far, a position at the top of the bottom rungs, and her desire for violence is almost admirable in its simple purity so I suppose she enjoys her labors.

But, I suspect there may be a ring of tragedy to her origins, as inspecting the records of hell (At no small expense of bribery and... aggressive persuasion may I add) shows her origin comes from a lineage of crafter-imps, sent to do delicate repair and creation of fineries for hell, and the wild imprecision that characterizes her violence may be due less to desire than to a bodily condition that prevents her from doing so.

I have said she enjoys her labors, and this indeed appears to be so, and her position in hell here is higher than that of those crafters, but I hypothesize she had to get there from being ejected to the very bottom, clawing her way back up through violence I cannot even concieve.

Certainly, she appears sorrowful of what she could never have. In the rubble she calls her abode, I saw several attempted fineries, imperfect from what I saw of their construction, but beautiful in their own ways. They were the only things unbroken in that entire place.

I, of course, did not speak to her of this. As I feared my own breaking within our conversation...

-Xavier X. Xolomon , Monsterologist and Understudy to The Librarian Of Babel

———————————-

So, I wanted to make a design inspired by the "wretched imp" archetype, and also to focus more on expressive faces since at least one friend has said my photomanips tend to lack them. I probably spent the most time on her face out of all the parts of her design.

Though the tragic angle actually came from the name, originally she was just going to be straight-up manic and destructive for fun. It flitted to mind from a Will Wood song's brief mention, I looked up the meaning, and the story came from there. 

I think it fits with the theme. When I compared Hell to the USA in which I live, I of course include the horrible ableism, given how many people I know impacted by such...

As per usual the whole descriptions, designs, ectcetera from this project are free to use as you see fit under a CC-BY 4.0 license so long as I; Thomas F. Johnson, am credited as their creator!

[agustdiv1ne]

*ahem* an apology 4 an apology:

i am so sorry fr on my knees consentually kissing ur gifted hands kneeling for forgiveness for judging a book by its cover when it came to telepathy , i saw funeral home and then it went to the bottom of my readlist 🫠

i decided to read it finally and leme tell u i 👁️👄👁️'d for a hot minute . i am now (respectfully) demanding a written apology with tears to compensate for emotional damages telepathy has brought me 🫵👺

i don't even listen to nsfw audios that much but with mari (fairybin)'s event going on everytime i listen t an audio im reminded haunted by mindreader!gyu @.@

the ending was straight up maniacal why r u big brained authors so evil im bawling /pos

i sent u an anon ask awhile ago saying how i read ur vampire!gyu drabble during my cycle and i am pleased to inform you that telepathy has made the list 🤓☝️📋

anyways if u celebrate i hope u get ur stocking stuffed this year u deserve it xoxo /lh

PLEASE THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY 😭 i cannot blame u bc i rly chose a weird ass topic for an au LMAO...thank u for giving it a chance. i forgive u bc u made me laugh with this

i suppose i can give u an apology: i am so very sorry for the emotional damage that telepathy gave u i will do it again. i am groveling on my knees for forgiveness. please forgive me for my transgressions (this is not the last u have seen of me)

and omg ur vamp!gyu cycle anon :0 I REMEMBER U RAHHH THANK U FOR COMING BACK AND SHARING UR THOUGHTS W ME I RLY APPRECIATE IT <33333 TELEPATHY MADE THE LIST EVERYONE!! MOM I MADE IT

i do indeed celebrate so thank u 🫶 i hope urs is full of good shit too ‼️‼️

[derireo-galge]

Perfectly Ruined | 4,5k | yoonmin✍🏼

Yoongi all but gives up to find a man for tonight to give him what he needs until Jimin's profile pops up on the app and he decides to give it a shot.

[ jimsu | dom/sub undertones | dom/sub switch | experienced yoongi | shy jimin | dirty talk | lingerie | begging | spanking | crying during sex | teasing | cock slapping | choking on cock repeatedly | manhandling | hair pulling | restriction of movement | rough sex | orgasm delay | overstimulation | all is consentual ]

♡

It's been a regular evening for him so far. He was spread across his bed, fresh out of the long shower, dressed in his favourite silky robe, feet up in the air.

Among all the apps his friends suggested Yoongi hated this current one with vengeance. Basic profiles, basic men, noone catching his interest. Atrocity after atrocity, the frustrated man almost exited it and deleted it off his phone forever but the next page popped up and his thumb froze. There was a picture of a young man, around the same age as him, maybe a little younger. And yes, the information stated that he was indeed two years below. He had pretty fluffy hair and a beautiful face. He scrolled through the profile, curious of his body. And there it was, sculpted well, not overly buff but obviously strong. He looked dainty almost, muscles lean and toned.

Yoongi licked his lips. He'd love to run his tongue over that honeyed skin. He positively liked what he was seeing. In the information box it was mentioned, right next to the fact he was a top, that he also was not very experienced.

Yoongi huffed a laugh. If he was given 500 won for every time a lad was putting "inexperienced" on his profile to get more attention from other guys who would want to teach him stuff, well. He'd be quite comfortable in life. Nevertheless he decided to message this - he looked at the top of the page again - Jimin guy and see what vibes he would be giving off.

Yoongi was pretty intuitive and trusted his judgment. And if he had even a sliver of doubt he'd leave immediately. Jimin responded almost right away and seemed eager to meet at a cafe to have a coffee and a chat.

It was the day of the meeting and Yoongi felt excited, looking at the photos from time to time and hoping to Gods this guy didn't turn out to be an asshole. Or a weirdo. Whether he liked the same things as him or not, it didn't quite matter, tastes differ and so on. The sexual interests mentioned on the profile sounded promising though.

Yoongi spotted him right away, the colour of his hair was standing out from other patrons. The cafe wasn't too crowded and he noticed Jimin chose a table in the corner, nice and secluded. He approached the younger boy and set his bag on the opposite chair.

- Jimin-ssi?

The man looked up and his mouth parted. Yoongi suppressed the urge to chuckle. He knew he looked good, the photos aren't really doing any justice in comparison to the real thing.

And he was wearing glasses only because his friends hollered and screamed how hot he looked in them. They could be pretty convincing that's why he chose to put them on. - Yoongi-ssi, - Jimin uttered looking all over his face, before going for a little bow, - Pleasure to meet you.

- Pleasure to meet you too, - Yoongi said, bowing back and sitting himself on a chair next to Jimin. They ordered their drinks and something to nibble on, immediately bonding on their mutual dislike for faulty dating apps.

Jimin had pleasant features, especially his delectable lips that he liked licking and biting, seemingly because of nerves. He did notice Yoongi looking at them and welcomed it. During their get to know each other talk, with both knowing exactly why they were here, Jimin's hand sneakily weaved around the other's waist and he didn't mind that one bit. He'd have to hold himself together not to kiss him right here.

- I had another thorough look at your profile and I must say you tick most of my boxes, - Yoongi started directing the conversation to where he aimed originally. - I'm glad to hear it, - the man genuinely seemed relieved at the confirmation.

They chatted a little, without giving away too personal details but nevertheless it was a pleasant and light conversation. Jimin seemed to give off good vibes, albeit he was a little shy. He had cute gestures and confident moves, he knew how to hold himself and with more time spent talking about meaningless things the more Yoongi was letting his suspicions down. The younger man didn't look like someone dangerous. - Do you have much experience? I know you've stated you don't but just to make sure, I prefer to be clear with my partners.

- This is true, - Jimin fidgeted on his seat, - I do have some experience. But not a lot and I hope you will be alright with that. He was twisting the hem of his sweater in his fingers. He was the cutest top out there, he could swear, already salivating at the images rushing through his mind.

- It's just fine, - the elder reassured, - How about we go over my little questionnaire? He got the bag and took out a neat folder and a pen.

- I already ticked some things that I enjoy and things I don't engage in. I also already have a rough idea what I'd like us to do together so let's see if we match more properly then on that stupid app. +

- And if you have something else in mind, do tell me. Alright? - Jimin giggled, hiding half of his face behind his fingers.

- You're so proper and organized, it's hot, - he mumbled shyly. - Feel free to ask any questions, - Yoongi chuckled at his admission and leaned back. He let the man go through the list on his own.

- Will do, - he agreed, already looking over the lines with attention. - Not a fan of bondage? - Yoongi asked looking through their completed list a little later.

- Haven't tried much, but rather open to it. The younger hid his face in a cup of coffee, stealing sneaky glances at the man next to him, hand weaving back to lie around the waist comfortably. Yoongi didn't mind.

- If you're okay then we can try. Familiar with the traffic light system? After his conformation the elder felt relieved. Jimin knew the basics and that will be more than enough for them to have their fun.

They discussed some more points and came to a mutual agreement to meet tonight at Yoongis place. After exchanging numbers and after giving the man his address Yoongi hurried back home to prepare.

He loved to have everything ready and organized. He cleaned his room and brought fresh bedding and towels. He had touched some things with Jimin in their conversation without going too deep into the details but mostly there was no scenario. They both made sure they liked certain things. For the rest of it... It was nice to set rough boundaries and just let the chemistry between two people do it's magic.

Even if the said people were practically strangers. Oh, Yoongi marveled, especially if they were strangers. When the doorbell rang, he quickly tied his long black robe around his waist and went to open the door.

Jimin was dressed slightly differently than in the afternoon, looking more like he was going on a date. The leather jacket he had on outlined his frame perfectly. The elder invited him in and took his jacket to hang it on the rack.

- Would you like a drink? - he asked.

- Not right now, I'm afraid - Jimin replied scratching the back of his head, - To be honest I'm a little nervous. - Don't worry, you're in good hands - they smiled widely at each other, - But if there is something in particular that you are worried about just tell me and we can talk it out. Or we can stop all together at any moment in time. There he took the younger man's hand in his, having figured out in the cafe that the other was very tactile.

- I will not be offended. We're doing this for fun, aren't we?

- Sure we are! - Jimin answered. They walked inside the bedroom and his guest emitted a quiet gasp.

- Your room looks so beautiful! Have you designed it?

- Yeah, well, it's my passion if you will, the interior design. Let's have a seat?

They both sat on the bed and Yoongi took the younger's hands in his. - Here I am going to talk you through what I have in mind and you tell me if that sounds good to you, alright?

- Yeah.

Yoongi smiled.

- You can call me hyung. Actually, I insist you address me as hyung tonight.

- Yes, hyung, - he sat up straighter. - You are doing very well so far, - the elder said and they both laughed.

The atmosphere wasn't that awkward anymore. Yoongi was a smooth talker and was confident he can put his partner at ease with the power of his words. One of Jimin's hands slid to the elders waist clad in black silk. He scooted closer, rubbing Yoongi's side and looking at his face attentively.

- So I'd like you to relax a little, - hyung said, his voice being a steady deep flow. - Let's get you out of these clothes first. He was still holding his hand while narrating.

- Then I'd love us to touch each other, something simple, yeah?

- Yes, hyung, - he could already see the blush on his cheeks.

- And then I'll tie you up and edge you. And once I'm through with you, you can do me. - How I like it? - his eyes widened.

Yoongi played their earlier conversion in his head.

- Yes, just how you like it, sweetling.

Jimin eagerly moved first to undo the black cord of the robe and held it in his arms. He looked at it in wonder and Yoongi couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his mouth.

- That's exactly what I'll be tying you up with, boy.

The younger let it fall on the bed next to them and started unbuttoning his shirt, eyes averted to his knees. - Show yourself off for me.

Jimin stood up and got rid of all his clothes slowly, standing before the elder in all his naked glory. Yoongi touched and palmed the defined muscles, admiring the well sculpted body in front of him. - Your turn, hyung, - he was distracted from his viewing session by a soft voice laced with mirth.

- Cheeky, - he commented and stood up to shrug off the long robe, letting it fall on the floor. He was left in a black lacy bodice and fishnet holdups that he preferred today to any of his fancier lingerie because he wanted to feel comfortable in his favourite items. Jimin couldn't take his eyes of the pale skin in black lace, so beautiful on his body as if it was made just for him exclusively. He looked pretty, dainty, ready to be ruined mercilessly. He wanted to throw the elder on the bed and worship that ass, buff chest and legs, kiss that soft tummy and press him into the mattress.

Yoongi noticed the ogling and threw his head back with a laugh, graciously cocking his hips and turning around, showing off his amazing body. He loved the way he looked and was pretty confident in himself but it was always nice to be looked at like that, unabashed and hungry.

Yoongi laid back on the bed and motioned for Jimin to come close. - Give me a kiss, sweetheart, - he crooned, opening his mouth and letting the younger see his little tongue running over his teeth.

Jimin connected their lips, the touch soft, careful. He tasted him like something he never did before, tongue licking at the tongue and little hums escaping his chest.

- Now would you help hyung take these off? The younger man looked down where Yoongi was pointing and saw lace panties that were tightly holding his swollen cock inside with the pink head peaking above the hem.

But the moment his fingers touched the black lace he was stopped. - Do it with your hands behind your back.

He groaned at this but went along, unexpectedly picking hyung's legs up and moving them further on the bed, diving to take the panties off after. That little bit of manhandling was so hot, Yoongi's length twitched. He imagined how it would be to end up at Jimin's mercy, in his strong hands moving him as he pleased.

Despite it being physically challenging, after some twisting and turning Yoongi laid bare in front of the other man. He sat up, patting the bedsheets in front of him and Jimin obediently sat in front of him. He spread his legs wide and picked the elders ankles to put his legs over his. They were close enough to touch each other if they so wanted. Yoongi extracted a bottle of lube and uncapped it, dribbling the gel all over the younger’s thick cock.

He wasn't going to lie, he loved the sight of veiny length, coming to life over his heavy balls.. - Pleasure yourself for me, darling. - he asked, lathering himself up and mirroring the other's moves.

They spread the lube over their cocks, touching and fisting them like they'd usually do it alone. Jimin's shoulders were raised, he was obviously flustered but still he kept going, watching Yoongi jerk off with his long fingers.

The elder leaned and his big hand replaced the dainty ones, engulfing his erection in his palm and moving languidly. Jimin gasped and moved his hands forward to do the same. They glided them along their shafts, just enjoying the pleasurable familiar sensations.

Yoongi noticed how the men calmed down and his posture relaxed. He could continue with no worries. Some more kisses were shared, lips not seemingly to want to part from one another. Jimin kissed sweetly, giving small nips to the lips and suckling on the tip of the tongue like it was candy. He was very attentive, looking at Yoongi's eyes for his reactions, expecting praise probably. The elder provided.

Smoothing the pink locks he drew him in closer, whispering into plush lips:

- Lay down for me, pretty, and put your hands on the headboard. Once Yoongi turned around to look for the silk robe ribbon he felt strong arms hugging him from behind and a marvelously thick cock grinding on his butt, the girth of it wide enough to part his asscheeks. - Thank you for guiding me hyung, I love it - he said giddily, giving the pert butt another promising grind and backing away to lay back on the pillows. Yoongi tsked and looked at the other half accusing, half amused. - I'll let this slide because I'm in a generous mood, pup. Try to be more obedient onwards.

- Alright, hyung, - the younger man threw him a dazzling smile and raised his hands to the headboard, waiting to be tied up. After Yoongi made sure the bounds are tight enough to keep him there but loose enough to keep it safe he turned around and sat on Jimin's belly.

The elder curved his spine ro stick his butt out for Jimin to have a perfect view of his tight pink hole. - You wanna fuck this? - he slapped his own buttcheek, - You're so sure you can?

Jimin groaned, eyes zeroed on a jiggling globe in front of him. And then he felt fingers wrapping around his erection, now fully hard. - Look at that thick cock, - the elder gave the head a light slap, making it bob slowly.

- Answer me.

- I do, I do, ah! - he cried out when a firmer slap handed on his shaft with a loud sound. - I do, hyung! - It's all you can think about now right? - the other kept stimulating the girth with both hands, slapping it unexpectedly, coaxing long moans out of the man he was sitting on. - How to stick it in me? - Yes I want to stick it in your ass, hyung, - the younger repeated, hips trying to lift from the pleasurable rubs on his shaft.

He was unable to move much though, Yoongi's weight pinning him down with force. - Good, sweetling, - he hummed and proceeded to jerk the veiny cock off, rolling the balls in his palm and making his moves faster.

When he felt muscles under him tense - a tell-tale sign of an approaching orgasm - he put his hands in the air. He was listening to Jimin's pathetic whines and watching as the angry red cock twitched with want. He slapped his muscular thighs, two, three times each, hard and sharp, to distract him from sensations in his lower abdomen. He then soothed the quickly reddening skin, running his relaxed fingertips all over the beginnings of marks.

- Hyungnim, - the younger called, - I'm ready, please. - You asked so nicely, how can I say no to you? - Yoongi got back to jerking the thick length with both palms, adding the twisting motions on the upstroke. And soon Jimin was close to the edge again and the elder swatted at his pinkened thighs and balls, leaving the cock move in the air with nothing to grind on.

One look behind at Jimin made his heart skip a beat or two. He was lying there sweaty, teary-eyed, lips gathered in a pout and eyes zeroed on the entrance between the supple cheeks and pink balls that Yoongi was rubbing on his belly. - I'm thinking on sucking you off, pretty, - Yoongi voiced, his tone thoughtful. - I'm not sure you deserved it though.

With that tears spilled on the younger man's cheeks and he suddenly laughed. - Oh, heavens, hyung, I'm such a mess. - he shuffled, getting more comfortable and asking in a sweet tone, - Please suck my cock. Please, pretty please, hyungnim, I'll do anything. Yoongi shuffled closer to his chest, knees at the sides, and stretched his hand to wipe the tears off Jimin's cheeks.

- Sure. You deserve that, pup. He bent over and now his ass was even closer to the other's face bit he couldn't pay it the same amount of attention. All his thoughts were down on his crotch, where Yoongi bent and let his thick cock inside his mouth, stuffing himself full to the brim. He bobbed his head a little before doing all the way down again, restricting his airways and coming up after a while, coughing and spitting saliva everywhere. It was messy then. He would stay with his mouth and throat full of cock, moving in small grinds, impaling himself on the veiny thickness until he can't anymore only to come up panting, dripping his spit all over Jimin's balls and thighs. The noises he was making were lewd and arousing, pushing the younger man closer and closer to the edge along with the visual of Yoongi's pink hole quivering and balls tensing right in front of his face. He came unexpectedly, pushed into the elders throat, come gushing out of him repeatedly. Yoongi felt the length twitch inside, choking him nicely like for the last five minutes or so. They tried to regain their breathing while Yoongi untied Jimin and rubbed the imprints on his elegant wrists.

They kissed, the younger tasting himself in the other's mouth and licking into the wet cavern to get more of it. - Fuck me, right now, - Yoongi breathed out, looking at Jimin's eyes and gathering the running down saliva and remnants of cum off his face onto his fingers to lick them clean one by one.

Jimin saw the challenge but it was an easy job for him. He grabbed the elder by his biceps and turned him around forcefully, pushing him onto the bed. He used one hand to press on his nape and pin him down and grabbed his supple asscheek with the other to move it to the side. He finally got to taste his ass and plunge into the tight hole with his tongue. He licked messily, pressing the muscle inside, sucking and slurping while Yoongi's swears were drowning in the blankets that Jimin shoved him in. Eventually giving up on slapping and trying to grab the younger Yoongi clutched at the sheets and spread his knees a little wider. Strong fingers were digging in the back of his neck, restricting his movements and no matter how much he fought to raise the younger man wouldn't budge.

He was loving it, feeling unable to move and just take whatever he was given. His mouth opened wide at the sensations on his hole that was thoroughly being devoured. Jimin stopped for a moment to spit on the entrance and the elder felt it drooling down to his balls. They too got fondled gently, thumb massaging his perineum and stimulating his prostate from the outside. After a pause he didnt know what to expect but then heard a clicking sound and soon a generous amount of cool lube was poured on his crack, dripping down on the sheets. A calloused pad of the thumb pushed and prodded again and breached his rim, moving inside and out slowly. When Yoongi relaxed he felt the hand on his neck disappearing but he wasn't rushing to stand. He stayed put until Jimin threw a leg over across his back, immobilizing him yet again.

- I'm not going to run away, he chuckled, knowing he can always use his light system to stop or having good judo skills, just throw the man off of him.

So far he was enjoying the play. - Of course you're not, hyung, - Jimin said softly, - Not until I become one with this, - and he lightly smacked the full buttcheek coaxing yet another laugh out of Yoongi. Jimin pushed in with two slicked up fingers, bending them to look for the prostate and when he found it the elder understood the need to hold him down.

The man was relentless, fingering him in earnest, grazing the sensitive gland at every plunge. The movements were fast and rough, jolting the bent body and producing loud slapping sounds.

Yoondi cried out, his voice vibrating from the pace of Jimin's fingers until he thought he couldn't take no more. Just then he stopped, grabbing Yoongi by the sides and rubbing the cockhead on his fucked entrance.

- I'm ready, hyung, - he said, keeping his tone so sweet the other almost felt it on his tongue, - Just say your word. - Ruin me, - he blurted, hands grabbing more of the sheets for leverage.

Jimin bent and carefully gathered his silver hair that fell on his face. He grabbed it tight in his fist and circled his other hand on the base of his pulsating cock. He pushed it in, moving in abrupt thrusts, making room for himself inside warm welcoming body.

Yoongi panted with his mouth open. He held his breath as the thick erection pierced him, parting him inside. He loved the feeling of firm thick cock moving in him, bottoming out and filling him until there's no space left anymore.

He waited it out until asking Jimin to move.

With the hand pulling his hair he was limited in his movements. He was forced to arch his back and get split on a girth that left no room for an inch more.

The younger moved rapidly, thrusting into him with no care in the world and Yoongi thrived on it. He felt drool seeping out of his open mouth and garbled sounds coming out of him at every push.

Jimin aimed directly at his sweetest spot, driving his hyung towards much awaited peak. He felt his dick pulsating and dribbling come on the sheets. It's been a while since he came untouched unless it was one of his toys he's been pleasuring himself with. He had no time to get a breather as Jimin let go of his hair to lay on top of him, trapping his still spread legs with his and not moving to pull out.

His dick too got trapped between the sheets and his abdomen, still quite hard and needy. - Ah, Jimin! - he wailed as he realized he had no way of getting out of this position and the other's thick cock was still in him, gradually increasing his pace. The noises that spilled out of his mouth were close to animalistic as he was getting railed into tomorrow just how he wished. He cried repeatedly as the length speared him, fucking his body into the mattress and loosening his now wide stretched hole. He didn't know how long it lasted, he only knew his voice became so hoarse, it was hard for him to say anything. With force he reached for his aching cock with his hand and squeezed at the base, staving his orgasm off.

- Fill me up, - he gasped, - I want your come deep in me. Jimin grunted and finished inside the tight round ass in dozen of thrusts.

Yoongi was trembling like a leaf on the wind, his legs gave out and he'd have flopped down if not for the younger man gently supporting his pelvis. Jimin all but scooped hom in his arms and turned his hyung around.

He went between his legs that he put on his shoulders and swallowed his sensitive cock, plunging two of his fingers inside his abused entrance. Yoongi let out a choked cry, writhing on the bed and pushing his length indide warm heat of Jimins mouth.

The next moment he saw white and it felt like something exploded in him. With a strangled sound he came and kept on coming and coming, releasing inside the younger. He kept shaking and twitching and Jimin milked him absolutely dry with his sensual lips and tongue. He felt pleasingly spent and empty.

His whole body slumped on the mattress, with the other man resting his head on his soft tummy, hands gliding mindlessly up and down his sides. - Fuck, - Jimin uttered with such awe in his voice Yoongi started laughing with the other joining him too.

- Ah-haa, indeed, - the older man said, rubbing at his sweaty face. - Gods, I don't think I can move for the next century. - Me either, - was Jimin's retort, whichsounded regretful.

- Then don't, - Yoongi replied easily - We have tons of things to do now.

- What kind of things? - he perked up cutely and if he had ears they would surely stand up on his head. - A long shower and delicious food of course, - Yoongi replied hoarsely, clearing his throat. - And lots of tea with honey. - Honey-hyung, - the younger giggled and with that sound Yoongi laid back on the bed, soaring in his high, long fingers tangled in damp pink locks.

~the end~

[crispyjenkins]

Jangobi. After Melida/Daan Obi-wan comes back to the order but qui-gon doesn’t want him anymore so one of the council members jumps at the chance to apprentice him. This leads to him being encouraged to pay attention to his visions and feelings from the force because THEYRE REAL AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GIVE THEM SOME ATTENTION OBI-WAN. Obi gets a vision and a feeling that he needs to follow and tells his master. This leads to them finding Jango while he was still a slave and them freeing him.

(*gonna start putting translations up here like i do on ao3*

cw: drug use, cw: non-consentual drug use. basically second-hand highs from working with spice, nothing graphic but is mentioned a few times.)

Mando’a: kad’au — “lightsaber”, used here intentionally in place of jetii’kad, “Jedi’s saber” “Vor’e te Manda” — “Thank the Manda”, with Manda meaning “the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like” (mandoa.org) “Tion’cuy?” — “Who’s that?”, “Who are you?” confrontational urcir’ijaat — “honor duel”, lit. “honor meet” – look me in the eye and tell me the mandalorians don’t settle more than just elections with trials by combat “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?” — “Who’s watching your back?”, “Where’s your backup?” osik — “shit”

 Even completely fucked second-hand on the inch-thick dusting of spice on every surface of the slave transport, Jango knows the kid hadn’t been on Galidraan.

  Wide brown eyes blink at him through the ray shield keeping Jango and six other slaves in the cramped space barely big enough for two of them, and Jango had thought he’d burned through his rage years ago, but seeing the kid with a kad’au held at their side in a reverse grip ignites something in Jango that he’d thought long dead. 

  They’re not dressed like a Jedi, instead decked in spacer’s rags that hang too-loose from lanky limbs that have yet to hit their last growth spurt, and the chain marking them as a padawan is tucked up into a soft blue cap that clashes rather horribly with the little ginger hair that pokes out the front. They look human, but then, so had Jaster; every Jedi Jango has met before had been human as well, though he knows they’re as diverse as Mandalorians.

  “Vor’e te Manda,” the baby Jedi breathes, and Jango is far too high to tell if he had imagined it or not. He had not thanked the Manda in many years.

  He pushes shakily to his feet, needing to lean on the wall until his head stops feeling like it’s going to float away, and the other slaves skitter as far back into the cell as they can. “Tion’cuy?” Jango hisses, four years of venom dripping from the demand (Who are you?), but the baby Jedi just extinguishes their ’kad and hits the panel next to the door to power down the ray shield.

  “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m here to rescue you.” They smile at everyone hiding behind Jango’s fury, and take a step back to gesture them out of the room. “If you follow this corridor to the starboard side of the transport, you will find a shuttle waiting with nine other freed prisoners,” they say with an obnoxiously-High Coruscanti accent that was completely imperceptible in their Mando’a. “I will not hold it against you if you take one of the escape pods, but my teacher is waiting on Concordia to reprocess your identities back into Republic systems, and we will do all we can to find and contact your families or peoples, if you so wish.”

  Teacher. Not master. And freed prisoners, not slaves.

  Jango growls under his breath, not trusting this Obi-Wan Kenobi as far as he can throw them, but the promise of freedom hangs heavy in the air, and it only takes a moment for his cellmates to decide the risk is worth it, scrambling and shuffling past Kenobi with murmurs of thanks in four different languages.

  Jango doesn’t move.

  He watches Kenobi’s throat bob nervously, as they make no move to follow their “freed prisoners” down the hall.

  He asks again, “Tion’cuy?”

  “Naas’ad jaon’yc.” No one important. “I was simply in the right place at the right time.”

  Banthashit. “Banthashit,” Jango snarls, and Kenobi has the good sense to actually flinch.

  “Look, I know the last thing you want right now is another Jedi, and if you were to demand urcir’ijaat on behalf of your people, I would accept with honor; but, no offense, in the state you’re in, it wouldn’t be much of a fight.” They hook their ’kad on their belt, and nod to the corridor once again. “Now, as engaging as this conversation is, I believe one of the smugglers was able to get a distress call out before I could stop him, and I would really prefer not to meet whoever picks up the signal.” Raising a single brow expectantly, the child gestures for Jango to follow. The kid’s right, of course, Jango couldn’t fight off a rat at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

  Growling, Jango shoves off the wall and somehow keeps both his balance and his feet underneath him, out of pure spite for the arm Kenobi offers in support.

-

  He had fully intended to take one of the escape pods and jettison towards Mandallia instead of Concordia, but halfway across the slave transport that seems even smaller than he'd remembered, Kenobi throws out their arm again, this time to stop Jango just before they turn a corner.

  “Oh, that’s not good,” they mutter and barely manage to duck under the blaster rifle swung at them like a bat, and Jango feels himself be shoved down to the floor against the wall.

  Above him, Kenobi ducks away from a hulking human with a rather unfortunate receding hairline, and all at once, the Jedi seems like a completely different person. Something shutters behind their eyes, expression dropping to a blank indifference that’s belied by the warrior’s ease with which they dodge both vibroblade and swinging blaster, dancing backwards down the hall and leading the yelling smuggler away from Jango.

  Dizzied by his sudden drop from standing to sitting, Jango doesn’t try to get back to his feet, instead watching Kenobi play the other human like a particularly ugly hallikset*. They don't even pull out their kad’au, remaining weaponless as they bounce and weave like they have all the time in the world; were Jango not stoned out of his mind, he’d probably be impressed. 

  Then something flips a switch in Kenobi, and without telegraphing a single twitch, they dive forward instead of away, using their whole arm to knock the blaster to the ground. In the same breath, Kenobi rams their head into the other’s chest in a move that would make most Mandalorians proud, relieving the stunned smuggler of his vibroblade before driving their knee into his chest. 

  The smuggler drops with a muffled clang, and Kenobi steps cleanly out of the way to watch him land face-first on the durasteel floor. Kenobi picks up the rifle, discharging the clip onto the ground, and chucks the whole thing through the nearest open door. They leave the smugglers’s body right where it is.

  “Sorry about that,” Kenobi murmurs, coming back to Jango and helping him to his feet. “I must have missed one of the guards near the back.”

  Something about the phrasing unsettles him, but it takes another moment of forced concentration to put his finger on it. “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?”

  Kenobi grimaces. “I’m not fluent in Mando’a.”

  “Who’s watching your back?” Jango growls, getting right up in their space. “Where the fuck is your backup if your master is on Concordia?”

  The kid —who’s really more of a teen, almost a young adult— winces and tries to start herding Jango towards the shuttle again. “I’m here alone,” they say, almost apologetic, “but I can handle myself.”

  “Your magic wizard mentor let you stage a spiceminer slave rescue on your own?” It goes against anything Jaster had taught him about the Jedi, about an apprentice’s master being as close to a buir as the Jedi will allow; not to mention the galaxy-wide understanding that, if you mess with a padawan, make kriffing sure the master’s dead first.

  Yet, Kenobi’s deepening grimace tells Jango all he needs to know.

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “Look, I didn’t have a whole lot of time, alright?!” Done with being patient, Kenobi grabs his arm and starts dragging Jango quickly through the ship. “We got separated and were going to rendezvous, but if I had waited for him, the spicers would have already moved on!” They yank him down one more hall before they reach the promised shuttle, docked directly to one of the transport’s exterior hatches. Out the nearest viewport, there is indeed another ship approaching, but Jango can’t tell if it’s friendly or not.

  Kenobi doesn’t give him time to figure it out, pushing him into the shuttle and immediately closing the boarding hatch behind them. 

  The other slaves stand around the small cargo bay in various states of drugged-up panic, and if Jango is counting correctly, only one had opted to take an escape pod.

  Far more carefully, Kenobi pushes Jango to the nearest bench, and then goes around the room coaxing the rest into seats as well. Even while gentle about it, murmuring words of assurance in as many languages as they know, Kenobi still moves and speaks with urgency — part of Jango wonders if they’re mind-tricking everyone into compliance. 

  He waits until Kenobi has detached from the transport and properly started their course to the nearest planet, a swirl of grays and browns that can only be Concordia, before following the Jedi up to the absolutely tiny cockpit. 

  There’s barely room for the two pilots’ seats, and the ceiling is so low that even Jango's hair brushes the roof, yet Kenobi looks right at home before the wildly overcomplicated controls.

  They say nothing as Jango drops into the other chair, merely glaring sideways at him until they’re a good ways away from the spicers’ transport. 

  “I do ask that you don’t kill me before we get everyone settled,” Kenobi finally sighs, and Jango almost laughs at them: did they think he came up here just to shivv them? 

  “I’m not going to kill you, Kenobi.” At least, not yet. “You knew who I was.”

  Kenobi winces and flips a blinking switch over their head. “I have a Jedi answer for that, and one where you’re less likely to use that vibroblade in your boot. Which would you prefer?”

  Jango considers them for a moment, and he’s certain now that Kenobi is younger than Jango had been on Galidraan, but not by much: they have one of those faces that eternally makes them look younger than they are, but if he’s over twenty standard, Jango is a Kryze.

  “Both. I want both.”

  “Right.” Visibly steeling themself, Kenobi swallows and adjusts their course slightly; wait, when had they gotten away from that second ship? Had Jango imagined it? Then again, he barely knows up from down at the moment, only grounded by Kenobi’s infuriatingly calm presence. “The easy answer is that I saw your name on the freighter’s manifest when it was docked on Mandalore, and recognised it. I’m on an extended mission in Mandalorian space, and, well, my master thought it would be good to catch me up on the recent history, as I had only briefly learned about the Civil War while in the Temple.”

  He’s pretty sure that makes sense, a logical A to B, an almost maddeningly ordinary explanation for the space-blown panic Jango had felt on first seeing them, on first hearing their relief at finding him.

  “And the Jedi answer?” he prompts quietly, fingers twitching at his lack of a weapon.

  They glance at him briefly, at his hands, before facing back forward. “I only knew to check the manifest because I had a Force vision, and I couldn’t knowingly leave you, or any of the others, to this fate. I knew what you looked like not from my lessons, but from what the Force showed me.”

  “What the Force showed you.”

  “Like I said, the first answer is easier.”

  “I’m too high for magic osik.”

  They wince again. “Yes, I suspected. My master has a spice specialist waiting for when we land, if any of you choose to detox immediately. She’s Old Clan, though — um, Vau Clan, I think.” The Vau Clan did not follow Jaster, but they certainly didn’t follow Vizsla either, and were unlikely to have sided with the duchy. Now, why Kenobi found that important...? “We couldn’t find any medics who used to follow Jaster Mereel,” they explain, as if reading his mind. “At least, not on such short notice. Obviously we wouldn’t trust anyone from Death Watch, or the New Mandalorians, or the mercenaries controlling Concordia, not with the Mand’alor.”

  Jango laughs before he can stop himself, but it’s a bitter thing. “I’m not the Mand’alor. I have no people to lead.”

  Kenobi’s frown only deepens as they steer the shuttle into Concordia’s atmosphere. “Perhaps we should discuss this when you’re not spiced burnt.”

  He can’t but agree. “None of this explains how your master knew to arrange all of this, if you hadn’t rendezvoused with him.”

  “Ah, well, I sent him a coded communication before um... finding this shuttle, and he only got back to me while I was searching the cells for you.”

  “You stole this?”

  “Listen, I was on a time crunch! I was going to give it back!”

  Despite his better judgment, Jango lets himself go boneless and laughs, the reality of the situation maybe finally hitting him. The disgruntled pout Kenobi sports as they contact the nearest spaceport only makes him laugh harder.

-

  Master Windu is waiting for them when Obi-Wan lowers the shuttle gangway, along with a flock of medical personnel and an Arconan with a datapad that reeks of Republic Judiciary.

  Everything Obi-Wan had told Jango had been the truth, except that his master had been able to comm him after he had nicked the shuttle and left atmosphere; he’d had no doubt that Windu would come through, of course, even on Obi-Wan’s rather strange and specific request for Dr. Vau, but, well, Obi-Wan still disembarks with the freed slaves expecting a swift dismissal from the Order.

  It’s worth it, he tells himself, watching Vau make a beeline to Jango Fett and knowing he’ll be in good hands. It’s worth it, Obi-Wan repeats to himself on loop as he slides his soft hat from his head and fixes his Korun padawan chain back behind his ear. This is far from the first time Obi-Wan has gone off script, has let his emotions get the better of him and acted against the wishes of a master, but it’s worth it, he tries to convince himself as he meets Master Windu in the middle of the flurry of activity of the hangar.

  He twists his hat in his hands and immediately bends forward into a bow. “I’m sorry, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says quietly, and means it: how many padawans could say they had disappointed two masters thoroughly enough to be kicked out of the Jedi thrice?

  None, he knows.

  “I acted without thinking, I—”

  “It seemed to me that you acted with quite a bit of thought, padawan,” Master Windu says smoothly, a large hand settling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Your communication was most thorough.”

  Obi-Wan wets his dry lips and keeps his gaze firmly on his boots. “I know I’m not supposed to lose myself in my feelings, to act as if they are fact, but there wasn’t time, and I—”

  “Obi-Wan.” 

  Snapping his mouth closed, he braces himself for the disappointment, the dismissal, but instead, Windu just sighs, and Obi-Wan only gets concern and apology from their training bond.

  “Obi-Wan, can you look at me?” 

  He tries, he really does, but something seems to lock Obi-Wan in place, terrified of seeing that disappointment on the face of a master he’s only had for two years, after Master Jinn had dropped him.

  Despite his fear, Windu isn’t angry when he doesn’t raise his head. “Padawan, the Force is not trying to catch you in a lie. For all that it tests us and pushes us, it would not show you things —past, present, future, or, yes, just feelings— if it did not deem them important. It is how you act that decides the future, not just what you see in visions.”

  “Mas... Master Jinn always said to focus on the now,” Obi-Wan mumbles, remembering the sorts of mantras he would meditate on while Jinn’s apprentice. 

  Windu hmms. “And, in some facsimile, he was correct. No, let me explain myself,” he says, holding up a hand to halt Obi-Wan’s confused protest. “There is danger in getting lost in visions, Obi-Wan, of focusing so much on the future that one forgets to live in the present; this is what Qui-Gon refers to. As I’m sure you realised, Qui-Gon is exceedingly strong in the Living Force, yes?” Obi-Wan nods hesitantly, and Windu smiles at him. “The philosophies he subscribes to, on top of not being particularly prescient himself, puts awareness of the world around you above all else; you can see why it would be difficult for him to understand how those like you, like myself, could give that awareness up for even a moment.” 

  “But isn’t letting go...”

  His smile turns rueful. “Ah, and now you see the Council’s frustration with him, for all that he is a magnificent Jedi.”

  Shuffling awkwardly, Obi-Wan resists the urge to tug on his padawan chain like he would his braid, and settles for wrapping it loosely around his finger. “You are not upset?”

  “Not with you,” he is quick to confirm. “You saved fifteen people’s lives today, Obi-Wan,” he gestures around them, “and allowed the arrest of several notorious spice runners. Yes, perhaps you acted rashly, but as you said: there was hardly time to hesitate. What matters is that you learn to discern when to act, and when to slow down.”

  “... I shouldn’t ignore them?”

  Windu blinks down at him, surprise quickly smoothing into something too tense to be entirely serene. “Ignore your visions? No more than I should attempt to ignore shatterpoints: the Force would not make us strong in abilities we couldn’t learn to control. I find I must apologise, padawan, I did not realise Qui-Gon... worked with you so little on your prescience; such an oversight is not one you should have had to worry about.”

  Obi-Wan swallows, floundering for words, and absolutely does not know what to do with Windu’s easy acceptance and understanding despite Obi-Wan having spent the last few years hiding his visions and lying about his dreams. 

  “But now is not the time to delve into this, nor worry about how we will move forward.” Unfolding a brown cloth from over his arm, Windu holds out what Obi-Wan realises is his robe, that he had thought lost when he was separated from his master. Windu waits for him to put it on to gently start herding him towards the ship they had first come to Mandalore on, and quietly starts catching Obi-Wan up on all that he had missed.

  He doesn’t know what to make of feeling Jango Fett’s eyes on him from across the hangar; nor the intensity with which they follow him until the ship’s hatch closes behind him.

(this took four iterations to write and i’m still not quite satisfied, but i’m very attached to obi-wan having a chain/beads instead of a braid after Melida/Daan; the lil wish-you-would-write snippet happens a few months before this!

thank you for the prompt and y’all’s patience! obi-wan has brown eyes now because you can’t stop me)

*hallikset a seven-stringed instrument that i think is just legends now. but cal plays one!

[mrsgreenworld]

Okay, I just need to get something off my chest regarding SCK. I've seen people say that, even if they confirm that Serkan slept with Selin, it will be non-consentual. And I'm like... Are you for real, people???

Honestly, I'm done being a Serkan Bolat apologist, I'm done trying to understand and explain his behaviour. Of course it's the writing problem, but it's time to come to terms with what kind of character we have now.

Yes, Serkan suffered a severe trauma and Selin took advantage of the situation. Yes, she manipulated him. But she didn't really lie to him. Did she tell him that they were together? No. She didn't hide the fact that he had been engaged to and about to marry Eda. Was the fact that Serkan had changed a lie? No. Selin just twisted the truth, making it seem like Eda had had a bad influence on Serkan and "turned him into someone he was not".

But, while everything Selin has done is wrong and despicable, it doesn't change the fact that she didn't make Serkan do anything. No one can make Serkan Bolat do something he doesn't want to. It's been voiced on the show. More than that, they said it using Eda's mouth (rewatch episode 35 and the scene in Serkan's office, where Eda's buttoning his shirt). So everything Serkan has done since after the accident is his damn choice. He chose to get back with Selin. He chose to propose to her, even if it was a knee-jerk reaction. He chose to buy her a ring. He was consciously planning to marry her. And if he indeed *ucked her, then he sure as hell knew what he was doing and wanted it. Unless Selin took advantage of him when he was unconscious in the hospital.

I'm sorry if someone doesn't like it, but that's the bitter truth, my friends.

[demonofthelight]

"If you get pregnant and that kills you so be it" wow, so pro "life" of you.

Indeed, the non consentual party is more important than the consentual party in all circumstances.

[jerseydeanne]

Thanks for answering to my Cavill question. Without starting an argument I just want to tell, I think if an almost 40 years old man is into a 16-18 girl, even if it's consentual it is predatory indeed. Because a 16-18, even a young 20 years old hasn't fully developed, easily impressionable. The tought they have someting between them turns my stomach. The tought makes me anxious tbh. I hope it's not true but I won't be surprised if it is.

I preach Freedom of speech and expression here. I won't get mad at you. 

I don't know if you noticed that I was backing away posting about him after I saw the blind on CDAN. It wasn't just Freya but Millie Brown and Greta phone sex.

We don't know the circumstances and probably never will. Millie Brown's parents are thirsty. If you have done your research Hollywood is full of degenerates.

Netflix recently had to pull 'cuties' twerking little girls that got an NC17 rating. They are Woke; they can't be trusted. Anybody that does shit like this is EVIL. Can you imagine the cattle call for those parts? Parents lining up their children are sick. 

The age of consent in England is 16; it doesn't matter what we think. When I was a teenager 16, I dated a PR guy from capitol records that was 26. I dated older men cause I was more mature than men my own age. Older guys can afford champagne, and younger guys want to share a six-pack of beer. Every situation is different. 

Those blinds are there for a reason, people leak stories, so who is out to get him? Remember Lucy Cork  was leaking to Enty about their first sexual encounter. I do have to question people’s motives. Is it the studio that won’t pay him or some jealous girl who can’t have him. 

I’ve noticed that women seem to go insane that date him. 

He is very handsome and sexy, nothing has ever made to main stream gossip magazines. I’m still going to promote him and his projects. 

Thank you anon

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010: 35 - 31

35. KEiiNO - “Spirit in the sky” Norway 2019

During the preshow I posited that "Spearwhil”  would be the Rasmussen but as it turned out-

I HEAR YOU CALLING ME AT NIGHT

No, Tom NOT NOW!!! I’m in the middle of my sentence. 🙄 Wait your turn Anyway, it turned out that ‘the Rasmussen’ really ought to be called ‘the KEiiNO’. Observe this Michal-esque rise up the scoreboard:

OutSzpak’ing Spzak. 😍 Let’s be honest though, it was-

I HEAR YOU CALLING ME AT NI-

- COMPLETELY DESERVED TOO.  Fred was especially great, who delivered EPIC yoik solo that I am sure won KEiiNO the televote on the spot. 😍

This particularly pleases me because I was worried Tom & Alexandra (who are both very good performers) would take the spotlight away from Fred, but no did the weakest link pre-show turned not only turn out to be the strongest one, but he was arguable the single strongest performer of finale night. SO PROUD OF THEM ANGELS. 😍 Let us all sing along

*cough* I said, “let us all sing along”

... 

(k Tom, now is ur cue)

I HEAR YOU CALLING ME AT NIIIIIGHT

THE NORTHERN LIGHTS ARE DANCING

HÅ LA HEI LOI LÅ

A lot of the criticism from KEiiNO comes from your typical value-seekers who can only enjoy themselves in public if their shallow trash comes coated in a thick layer of novelty gimmicks and Deep Meaning, so they don’t have to admit to others and themselves than they tune in to have fun, like everyone else. There’s nothing wrong with novelty gimmicks & the like, but applying that standard to everything is taking it a tad too far. Sometimes, simplicity is key and that’s exactly what KEiiNO were: unpretentious, highly-addictive EDM adorned with epic yoiking. 😍 

_______________________________________________________________

34. Gianluca - “Tomorrow” Malta 2013

"Tomorrow” is, to use Gianluca’s own words, a curious delight: I always, always, always forget about it. Then I rewatch 2013 as I do at least once per year, and each time it’s like a Céline Dion song IT’S ALL COMING BACK TO ME and I’m in love again. 😍 “Tomorrow” is such a clever twist of the typical love song by telling the story from the THIRD PERSON PERSPECTIVE by an all-knowing narrator. It’s world’s merriest audiobook. 😍

Naturally, this works because Gianluca has TONS of charisma. He’s one of the most magnetic humans ever on a Eurovision Stage? 

It’s hard to believe that he ages like the rest of us, I’d assume he was birthed fully formed and clothed, at age thirteen, in whatever rests at the end of a Neverlandian rainbow. 

“Tomorrow” could’ve so easily been one of those “Annoyingly Positive songs”, but because he’s so relentlessly jolly, Gianluca injects “Tomorrow” with limitless happy energy, enough to melt the polar icecaps. I am happy that I don’t revisit Gianluca between watches, as I do with others, because each time I rediscover him it’s like finding a four-leaf-clover. 🍀

________________________________________________________________

33. Elitsa Todorova & Stoyan Yankoulov - “Samo shampioni” Bulgaria 2013

IMA LI MLADI? IMA LI LYUDI? TSYALO SELO DOIDE PEITE NE SE BOITE

Let us continue with one of the most glorious trainwrecks EVER in Eurovision. 😍 Of course, this being the GOD-tier the severity of wreckage (aka the Sennek Factor) is even higher than normal. In the case of “Samo shampioni” the messiness began DURING THE PRESELECTIONS. 😍 Okay you may not remember or know this backstory, so allow me to enlighten you:

Okay, so *initially* BNT selected Elitsa & Stoyan and for some reason decided to hold an NF: They introduced: first a terrible rapbomination, second a boring ethnoballad (think Iriao + percussion) and then pulled out an experimental fusion of ethnic bagpipes, polyphonic singing and dubstep, which Elitsa openly pointed as her favourite. 😍 Obviously, the audience had to choose for the latter? NOPE The audience chose the iriao-esque ballad 😍 and in one of the most hilariously open displays of riggage, LESS THAN A DAY AFTER THE NF (and after Elitsa allegedly threw a huge backstage temper tantrum threatening to withdraw LMFAO), BNT produced a statement that was all like “well. we can’t send “Kismet”. 🤓 You see... it has come under our attention that... the songwriter from Argentina (lmao) can’t agree to the copyright terms we demanded of him 🤓but that’s fine because it means we can send “SAMO SHAMPIONI” instead 😊‘ <3333333333333333333333456789 who the fuck is Christer Björkman, fucking NOBODY that’s who. And of course, once “Samo Shampioni” finally got to Malmö it was an utter disaster. 😍 I say "disaster” in the best meaning of the word though. I LOVE when countries showcase their musical traditions, but Elitsa and Stoyan do it so aggressively, BLASTING the unassuming viewer with loud af bagpipe noises, following it up with a menuet of polyphony, a clarion of “AAAAAAAAAAAA-YUUUU” and a finale of dubstep and mayumaniacal percussion. “Samo Sampioni” was loud, abrasive, a clamour of ethnic noise but by the same token such a catchy, infectuous, delightful fucking BOP. No surprise it got jurypwned but it was well worth the effort. 😍

________________________________________________________________

32. Nadav Guedj - “Golden boy” Israel 2015

Welcome to the Dicedrome, ladies and gentlemen: Introducing the man who put Israel back on the map after four straight NQs. But Nadav is more than just a Hebrew Tom Dice. 

For starters, “Golden boy” is also the first time we were ever subjected to Doron Medalie (and also Imri Ziv but lol Imri), who is at his BEST here (apart from that moment when he brusquely shoved Cesár out of the way as if he were Krisse Salminen lmfao 😍): “Golden boy” has everything I could want in an uptempo party song: Drama, catchy rhythm, limitless fun, chanting, dancing and an absolutely ridiculous premise: sixteen year old boy gets wasted after fruitlessly flirting with all sorts of femfolk on his first night out. Yes, THIS

is sixteen years old. 😍 But what I mostly love about “Golden boy” is the humour. Intentional humour is really hard to get right and “Golden boy” NAILS it for me. From self-deprecating one-liners, to that choreography to b-roll material like the sound effect of beer being pourn as Nadav gets further into the song, to of course the epic finale of “THREE MINUTES! BYE :selfie”. 😍

A wild ride which, as serendipity demands, is topped off by Nadav kicking off a strong Israeli streak that indeed ENDS up with Israel winning the contest (with a worse Doron composition :-/) and him showing us around in Tel Aviv. Funny how life works sometimes, huh? 

OKAY GOTTA GO  THREE PARAGRAPHS BYEBYE

_______________________________________________________________

31. Jessy Matador - “Allez ola olé” France 2010

Did you know “Matador” is Eurospeak for “SLAYER”?  😉

Speaking of EPIC party songs, I was looking “Allez Ola Olé” up for my usual ranking purposes and this song.. is one of the most successful Eurovision songs EVER? I am not surprised, because “Allez olla olé” OWNS, but at the same time random 12th placers becoming massive off-season hits <3

(yes I am aware it’s because it was the French “Waka Waka” but that’s even more hilar, actually. What on earth is it doing in Eurovision <3)

Anyway, “Allez ola olé” definitely DESERVES all praise it can get. ETERNAL THORN IN THE SIDE OF THE EUROVISION ELITISTS <3 it is of course the anti-Proud, being all rhythm and no story, literally having no purpose other than making people dance (which I LOVE doing to “Allez Ola Olé”... within the confines of my bedroom, with the curtains closed because I have the dancing skills of drunk JarJar Binks) and honestly, what a spectacle. 😍

It features, in order of ascending awesomeness, male twerking (gender equality <3)

witty references to sex (which I don’t mind here because it’s clearly consentual, and therefore, healthy, ICKOLAS)

“Je sens le truc monter/..😏 ALLEEEEZ 😱”. 

DAM BA DAM BA DAM BA DAM DAM

A fucking HAKA????? (btw, the female backing doing a salute is also lowkey great <3)

Actually, TWO HAKA’S????

This song may not have relevant meaning but my weave flew all the way to French Polynesia. “Allez, ola, olé” is nothing less than fucking AWESOME. 

In this update, we pay our final respects to Norway, Malta and France: Read more about them below:

NORWAY

I don’t feel like this chart reflects my true feelings on Norway, because I like them a LOT more than what their average implies. They’re largely just dragged down by a few bad entries in the first half of the decade. Norway in the second half of this decade has shown a lot of promise and they are on my list of countries that I expect to win in the upcoming decade. 

MALTA

Malta are a very average Eurovision country imo. As you can see, they very often select songs that are not worth giving a fuck about, but conversely the few times that they do, they’re usually excellent happy-go-lucky gems. I could see them winning if they find that rare 1-in-50 entry (by one of their jesc winners preferably), but only if they keep internally selecting their entrant because lmao MES(s)C <3

FRANCE

This is a really good chart for France and roughly what I expected. Not my favourite country but solidly upper tier. France really have reinvented themselves post 2016 and are reaping the rewards with generally higher results. I hope it gets topped off with another win soon. They deserve it. 

[tyrellsimsoficeandfire]

Tyrion’s Story Replies

@treason-and-plot:  Anyone who doesn't appreciate books is a complete tool.

I totally agree!!!! I mean, he is presented with one of the most valuable and rare books and he FUCKING destroys that piece of history!!!!!!! I hate such people.

@dreamywritingdragon:  So many details!Margeary’s dress is gorgeous! And poor Sansa, looking so distress :/ I love Leonette and Garlan being absolute sweet lovebirds :) and I’m pretty sure Oberyn is whispering very dirty things in Ellaria’s ear…:p

I’m so happy you noticed all these details!!!!!!!! I always put some book characters in there. Not just our favourites you noticed! I’m happy you recognized Garlan and Leonette (My favourite couple). Not quite visible are also Qyburn, Lord Redwyne and the Kettleblacks.

@andantezen:  Gorgeousness! So many different expressions telling of different moods in the same event!!

Thank you! I know that I put too much effort into such scenes. But I think it would be boring and unrealistic if everyone is just standing in the same pose. I didn’t think about it before,but you are right! I really managed to show perspectives of different characters.

@lifeasasim: I love this ;_______;

@treason-and-plot:  This is epic in every sense. Bravo! 🤗

@murfeelee:  Yaaass Queen.

Thank you! As Joffrey says: “A royal wedding is history” and I wanted to show this!

@andantezen:  to enlarge your pictures, and dwell in their details... I can never get enough, I can never praise your artistry enough!

You are too nice! But I think that tumblr somehow destroys my picture’s quality. Enlarge them sometimes helps but on the app they still look blurry.

@acquiresimoleons:  Very nicely done!

Thank you! A very minor scene I just felt the need to show for it gives clues about Joffrey’s true murderer.

@dreamywritingdragon: He's deeeeaaaddd!!! The Evil brat is dead! The evilest king that ever was, the ...crap, I don't remember the rest of the lyrics :p very nice scene, as always :3  

Yess!!!!! Never was a real Joffrey-hater but his behaviour during the wedding made me angry AF. But I’m a bit sad for I found my Joffrey Sim quite handsome.

@treason-and-plot:  Well that fills me with a nice sense of schadenfreude 😁

He got what he deserved! Millions of people worldwide felt like you!

@mentally-restless:  yoooooooo where's Jeoffrey's outfit from?! (p.s magnificent scene as always ;) )

From Severinka’s medieval oriental set. I noticed that she might have converted a Joffrey armor from the GOT videogame. 

@marfuhenka82: !!!!

@scipisims:XD!!!! Love it!!!!

Thank you! Lots of love to you <3

@andantezen:Another epic sequence! I have it opened on another tab, so I can check longer... So many characters in this scene, all beautifully dressed... I love how you use default patterns and make them look lush on the costumes... The care you put on their hairs and everything... Every time I have to think of the amount of careful work you put into these... Thank you, and know that I do enjoy and take my time appreciating these! 

What a nice comment!!!!!! I always use the same patterns from basegame and I want to create some real medieval look. I have lots of households stored, so I don’t have to create new sims as background characters each time. The ladies-in-waiting (Green dresses) you’ll encounter more often in my posts. But you are right dressing my protagonists each time takes a lot of work. I love how you enjoy my pics and check out the details!

@andantezen:  How many characters are there indeed in this scene? What was your biggest scene so far?

8 protagonists in my main household and around 30 extras in the background. My weddings and tourneys are the most populated scenes I do. I just feel a need to put that many sims there because real royal courts were crowded, as well. Unfortunately my games recently shows difficulties when it comes to mass scenes :(

@treason-and-plot:  Breathtaking! ❤

@lifeasasim: He's frame!

He is indeed! Thanks for your comments.

@treason-and-plot:  These screenshots are like oil paintings ❤

Thank you! I wasn’t sure if I could make a scene taking place in a dark dungeon looking stunning. But I think, here this effect mostly depends on lighting and the contrast their costumes create!

@andantezen:  so dramatic, so beautiful! The warrior in black has such a great presence; even in daylight he looks so threatening!

He’s a monster indeed. I didn’t want to show his face to make him look more inhuman. His nickname is “The Mountain that rides”. Therefore, I placed him on a resizer all the time. Glad, my little tricks worked out!

@treason-and-plot: Well, that really sucks! :P

Bas Karma!

@treason-and-plot:  Nothing against your gorgeously realised scenes but ick!!

Yes, they behave very strange (to say it nicely). Mainly Cersei is a real sociopath who can only have this incestuous relationship. Don’t judge me if I find it intriguing as  element of storytelling. After years of GOT and loving Ancient Egypt, I’m used to incest. It doesn’t bother me anymore as long as it is consentual and presented as part of a story. I mainly did that scene to play with decoration, contrasts and lighting: Their golden hair, the naked bodies and those red candles create lovely pics, I think. And yet it is creepy to F*** your brother over your dead son’s body.

@mentally-restless: <3

@lifeasasim: :(

Lovely and sad at the same time!

@treason-and-plot:  The lighting is spectacular in these shots 😍

Again, it was a problem to make a dark dungeon look beautiful. I placed lights very carefully, therefore to keep the dungeon atmosphere.

@treason-and-plot: I'm confused about Jaime. Is he a good guy? But how can someone who fucks his own sister be a good guy?

Many people despise him. He has done many bad things and has a reputation as oathbreaker. But he uses that to cover up the good things he does. He denies to see himself as the good guy: Everyone despises him for he murdered a king years ago and yet he didn’t tell anyone that he stopped that king from a planned mass murder. He does kind acts but disguises them with threats, he almost killed a child but saved a friend from rape... Things aren’t that easy with him. But I like his complex character. 

He loves his dwarf brother very much and I think for him he is the good guy. But the story with the wife mentioned: At 13 Tyrion married a peasant girl. His father had her raped by his guards then sent her away. Jaime was forced to tell Tyrion she was a whore he just payed for being lovely to the dwarf.