#I can't draw his eyes properly ?? why

[sysig]

can i ask for larry and kabu.... is it allowed......... if not i can ask for something else lol

Day 2 - Warm feelings

[jasmines-library]

Okay that one with baby batsib learning about Batman was so cute but what about the opposite? Imagine they decided that they hate Batman 💀 love your writing 🥰

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Note: LOVE THIS. sorry it took me an age.

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧ READ PT1 ⛧

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BRUCE:

The look on your face when Bruce picked you up from school that day was not the look he expected. Your arms were folded, and your eyebrows were knitted together in a tight scowl as you stood at his feet.

Ruffling your hair in an attempt to wipe the pout off of your face, Bruce knelt down to your height and spoke to you gently. "What's that look for, Sweetheart?" He asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement lingering in his tone.

You didn't answer. Instead you just huffed, turning away from him. Bruce just tilted his head, rather amused by your mood. "Come on, kid. It can't have been that bad. What did you learn about today?"

With one drawn out movement, you turned back to face him, a stony expression chiseled onto your face. "Batman."

"Oh?" Bruce raised an eyebrow. He was wondering when you would come across Batman. The family had agreed that you were far too young to know the secret yet, so had avoided telling you.

"I don't like him." You declared, sticking your chin up.

Bruce frowned a little. "And why not?"

"He stops people."

"He's trying to help the city, kid."

You huffed once again. "I don't like him."

Bruce couldn't help the slight grin on his face. He found it rather comical that you hated Batman so much. You were going to have one hell of a dilemma when they reveal their identities to you.

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DICK:

Your little hand was stretched above your head as you clung onto Dick's hand. He had decided to take you to the park to enjoy the most of the summer weather before Gotham shortly returned to its usual doom-and-gloom rain. Your feet shuffled on the pavement beside your brother as he walked you towards the ice cream parlour just across the road. Your eyes practically lit up as you saw the abundance of bright colours and flavours all lined up in neat rows.

"Alright kiddo. Whatcha having?" Dick lifted you up and placed you on his hip so that you could see properly over the small line of people. "They've got strawberry, chocolate, vanilla.....oh look." He pointed to one of the drawings on the specials menu. "You can get a batman sundae."

Your face twisted with disgust. "Yuck. Batman."

"You don't like Batman?" Dick raised an eyebrow, adjusting you on his hip.

"No."

"Where'd you learn about Batman?"

"At school." You replied, trying to look over the people at the counter, clearly more interested in the ice cream than in the conversation with your brother.

Dick shook his head with amusement. "Why don't you like him?"

"He's boring."

Your answer took Dick a little off guard. "Boring?" He frowned.

"Yes. Boring. We spent all day learning about him and it was very boring."

"I see" Dick chuckled, making note to tell Bruce about this later. "So i take it no Batman sundae then? Because Batman is boring?"

"Yep." you said proudly.

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JASON:

Jason was in his bedroom reading comics on his bed when you wandered in.

"Jay-Jay?" You called out for him, turning the corner and stopping when you saw him on his bed. you looked at him, eyes wide with curiosity. "What are you doing?"

"I'm reading, Little Wayne." He answered.

"Reading what?" You asked, wandering to the bed and standing on your toes to peer over. He lifted you up to sit beside him.

"Comics." he showed you. "See."

you pointed to the figure on the page. "Who's that."

"That's Batman."

"Who's Batman?"

"He saves the city. He keeps Gotham safe." Jason explained, giving you a rundown on Batman. His gadgets, his cars.

"Thats booorringgggg." You drew out, looking at the illustrations on the page.

"Boring?"

"yes." You huff. "I don't like him. He does boring things."

"If that's what you say, kid."

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TIM:

Tim was in the kitchen with you. He had you sat in a chair as he made you a snack. The news was playing in the background, with Batman and his sidekicks' faces flashing across the screen. You paid little interest to it as you ate you breakfast, but as time went on, you began to grow fed up of seeing him and his fast car driving through the streets.

"Timmy. can you turn it over?"

Tim reached for the remote and flicked to another channel, but it was also playing the same footage.

"Tim." You whined. "Turn it over. I don't like Batman."

Tim turned around to face you. "No?"

"No." You said, taking another bite of your breakfast. "He destroys the city."

"He doesn't do it on purpose, kid. He destroys it to get the bad guys."

"But sometimes he doesn't even catch the bad guys. And he has sidekicks to help him."

"He can't stop all the crime on his own, kid."

You paused for a moment, outspoken, but pout and take another big bite, speaking with half of your mouth full. "Well i don't like him anyway."

Tim changed the channel to something else. He found your slander of the vigilantes amusing, considering you would more than likely become one in the future. he just hoped that he would be there to see your face when you found out the truth.

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DAMIAN:

You were watching Damian play video games in the living room one evening. He was supposed to be babysitting. out of the window, the bat-signal flashed into view.

You tugged on his sleeve, pointing it out to him. "Dami. Look. Batsignal."

"Where'd you learn that, kid?" he asked, pausing his game.

"At school."

Damian took in the look on your face. "You don't seem that excited. Most kids are excited about batman."

"I'm not." You folded your arms. "I hate batman."

Damian chuckled in interest. "Well, you're not like most kids then, are you. why do you hate him?"

"He doesn't change the city."

"Hm?"

"There are still bad guys."

"There are." Damian hummed. "But he's trying his best."

"And he hasn't got the monster under my bed yet."

Damian couldn't help the snort of laughter that slipped past his lips. "Oh well, thats not very good of him, is it?"

"No its not." you scowled.

"I'll have to have a chat with him then, get him to sort it out for you. will that make you like him more?"

"maybe."

Damian smiled softly. "I'll see what i can do."

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish @killxz @rosecentury @lara20aral

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[authorhjk1]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6pTqflplBO/?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Sana/Jennie museum threesome

The Roman Goddess (part III)

(Minatozaki Sana X Jennie X Male Reader)

"Stop playing hard to get, Mars."

Venus' mischievous smile makes you lose your mind.

You knew it was a bad idea, when you saw the invitation to this event lying on the bed in your hotel room. And her note next to it explained why she wanted you here.

"I don't think we should do this."

You take a step back, surprised by your own self control.

"Y-Your husband is right there."

You whisper and point to the next room of the museum.

"Oh, forget about him, baby. I'm just here for that dick of yours."

You watch her looking down on you, before she reaches out to cup your crotch.

You can't do anything. Nothing to resist. Venus has always been something you can't walk away from. Something that draws you in. And that purple dress she is wearing makes your head spin, everytime you look at her. It fits her body perfectly, hugging her curves tightly.

A satisfied smile plays around Venus' lips, when she sees you glancing at her cleavage.

"You see? We're meant for each other. My body is yours. And yours is mine."

She steps closer. You close your eyes, still feeling her hand on your clothed cock. She places her tongue on your cheekbone and gives your cheek a long lick upwards, until she reaches your ear. Her purpose is clear. Destroy your silent resistance. Let yourself go. Give in.

"Your cock. It belongs in my pussy. As deep as it can go."

You flinch when Venus bites your earlobe. She is way more aggressive than she used to be. But then again, she is used to getting what she wants.

"And I'm not leaving this museum, until you tear this dress off me and fuck me like you mean it."

Your eyes shoot open when you hear high heels click on the stone floor. Someone is walking towards the two of you. Venus takes two steps back and pretends to read the information plate of the glass case on your left. You quickly hide your erection with the brochure you've held onto until now.

When the woman finally rounds the corner, you almost roll your eyes. What in the world? What the fuck is going on?

Her blue dress is barely a dress. More like a tunic. A very revealing one. You can see most of her slender legs and her tummy. The former is decorated with some body jewelry, which catches your eye. You notice you're staring, when she speaks up.

"I didn't expect you to see here."

Venus turns around.

"Oh, hey you."

She gives the new woman a big smile, but you can tell it's not genuine. Venus hesitates for a moment, but decides to properly greet the other woman. The two of them meet in the middle of the room. You can sense the awkwardness in the air as they give each other a hug. It looks forced and delicate, almost as if both of them are afraid the other might shatter into pieces, if they squeeze too hard.

You take a deep breath, glad you aren't the center of Venus' attention at the moment. Turning around, you try to ignore the two women and regain your composure. The glass case behind you showcases a trident and a net. You read the small plate that is placed next to the case.

The Retiarius, one of the most iconic gladiators of ancient Rome, fought using a trident (tridens) and a net (rete). Unlike his heavily armored counterparts, the Retiarius relied on speed and agility.

"How is your husband doing? You always talk about how he is working all the time."

"He is doing just fine. If I remember correctly, you ended things with your boyfriend? Tell me all about that."

Equipped with minimal armor—typically a shoulder guard (galerus) for protection—he would attempt to ensnare his opponent with the net before striking with the trident. This lightweight approach contrasted sharply with the heavily armed Secutor, creating a dramatic spectacle of skill versus strength.

"You know how guys are. Lazy idiots, who only think about sex. Especially when they see a woman like me. Believe it or not, I had one of his best friends on my doorstep an hour after I ended things with him."

"I can only imagine. My husband is a loyal, loving man. He gives me the world. I hope you'll find someone like that someday as well."

The weapons displayed here are replicas of those used in the grand arenas of Capua, a renowned training center for gladiators.

You move onto the next exhibit, while you hear the two women talk in the background. It's obvious they don't like each other. They're just bragging about how everyone loves them and how beautiful they are. You do have to admit that they're both gorgeous, but their characters seem flawed, to say the least.

Now standing in front of a mosaic, you get a glimpse of what a fully filled arena must've looked like in its full glory.

This intricate mosaic from the arena in Capua illustrates the staged reenactment of the Battle of Zama, the decisive confrontation of the Second Punic War fought in 202 BCE. In this spectacle, captured Punic warriors were forced to relive their defeat, facing off against Roman-trained gladiators representing the legions of Scipio Africanus.

"By the way, I love that dress of yours. I don't think I'd dare to show off this much skin, but it really fits your style."

"Thanks. Oh, but I love yours as well. Did your husband buy it for you? His taste is really something."

The Punic fighters are depicted with their characteristic long spears (hasta), curved swords (falcata), and round shields (caetra), emulating the Carthaginian infantry. Some are shown as Numidian allies, wielding javelins (pilum) and riding light horses, mirroring the diverse forces of Hannibal’s army.

"You know, I'd love to catch up with you some more, but my husband already mentioned earlier that he would love me to accompany him to the arena. But I'm sure we will have a chance to resume this pleasant conversation."

"Of course, dear. You're a loving and loyal wife. You always put his needs over yours."

Their opponents, dressed in Roman-style armor, carry gladii (short swords) and rectangular scuta (shields), symbolizing the disciplined Roman formations that triumphed at Zama. Such events were designed not only as entertainment but as a display of Roman supremacy, reminding the spectators of Rome's victory over one of its greatest adversaries.

You let out a deep breath as you hear Venus exit the room. You already felt bad, because you slept with a married woman. And while your carnal desires have kept you under their control so far, you finally have the courage to stop. You don't want to do it here. Not with her husband in the next room. That's not just morally wrong, but also stupid and dangerous.

You decide to ignore the other woman. She's probably doing the same with you. You reach another, smaller glass case. A figure of Venus inside. You can't help but glance at your own personal Venus through the door in the other room. For a moment, your eyes are glued to her backside, which is tightly wrapped by her dress. But you quickly avert your eyes again, hoping no one caught you. You decide on studying the description of the small figure, waiting for the other woman to finally leave the room.

The goddess Venus, revered as the deity of love, beauty, and fertility, held a special connection with the gladiators of Capua. In Roman culture, Venus was also associated with victory and fortune, making her a significant figure for gladiators who sought her favor before entering the arena. It was believed that invoking Venus’ blessings could turn the tide of combat, granting strength, agility, and the favor of the audience.

"Interesting."

You mumble as you take out your pen. This could make for a great part of your book. The first one featured the Roman legions. The second one was centered around Roman naval warfare. And this third one was supposed to be more about politics, while highlighting the character of a cunning, but charming woman.

Thank to Venus, you've already made great progress. "The Roman goddess", your third book, is almost finished by now. And it seems like you just found the best way to start your fourth book. Very ambitious, since you haven't completed the third one yet. But you know that this could lead you to even more fame. And money. For a moment, you wonder if you could ever reach the same level as Venus' husband. Through writing? Not likely. But it's going well so far.

The idea alone already makes your fingers itchy. You want to go home and continue to write. And you know now, your fourth book will be about gladiators. As you take notes on the museum's brochure, you are already planning out the first ideas for a plot.

You loose yourself in your thoughts, whispering along as you keep on reading the description of the small figure.

In Capua, one of the most renowned gladiatorial training centers of the Roman world, shrines and offerings to Venus were common, especially among gladiators who wished to honor the goddess in the hope of survival and success. The connection between Freya and the gladiators-

"What the fuck happened here?"

You say out loud, starring at the small text.

"Are you okay?"

You jump. The woman who talked to Venus is standing right behind you.

"Yeah, sorry."

You turn back around.

"Is something wrong?"

"Kinda..."

You hesitate. She sounds kinda bored and you don't want to make it worse by letting your history addiction shine through. But what's the worst that can happen?

"Here."

You point at the description.

"For some reason someone switched the names of Venus and Freya."

"And who is that?"

"Well, Venus is this one."

You point at the statue and have to force yourself to not look into the next room.

"And Freya is basically her Nordic equivalent."

"Isn't this the goddess of love or something?"

"Yes, you're correct. She's also responsible for marriage and the spring."

"You seem to know what you're talking about."

The woman next to you crosses her arms in front of her chest as she looks down at the figure of Venus.

"A little. My specialty is Roman and Greek history, but I know a thing or two about other civilizations as well."

"Are you a history teacher or something?"

"An author."

It still feels odd to say that. But you're realizing that you aren't as nervous as you should be. This woman is gorgeous, stunning. And yet, you don't really think about that and just see her as a normal person. Maybe because you spent a lot of time with Venus?

"Are you famous?"

"I wouldn't say so. Not really."

"Too bad. It would've explained why she sleeps with you."

You almost have a heart attack.

"W-What?"

You cross your fingers that she isn't talking about Venus. Not possible. You've never seen her before, so how would she have seen you? And you are sure that Venus didn't say anything either. Right?

You feel your heart beating faster, while your body seems like it's frozen. You wait for her to keep talking.

"Did you never see her taking pictures of you or something?"

You slowly shake your head.

"No... Did she?"

"There's an mobile app for women like us."

She pauses for a moment.

"Rich, famous women. Who are either married or single."

"Ah...."

"The app is used to share our sexual adventures with each other. And recommend people, based on where you are. For example, you told her that you'd be in Italy for a while. How do I know that? I checked the app. She put a picture of you in there. What you're good at, that you're fine with keeping secrets and that you're currently in Italy. And your number as well."

"She gave everyone my number and a picture?"

"Yeah."

You feel a little used. Venus seemed to value privacy so much. So why did she just violate yours?

"I also know that the two of you are playing a little game. You call her Venus. And you're Mars, right?"

You slowly nod your head. It finally dawns on you in which direction this is gonna go.

"I want in."

"What?"

"I want to take what's hers. Make Venus jealous and show her that you like my pussy more than hers."

When she says Venus' name, it almost sounds like an insult.

"Do I have a choice?"

The woman in blue shakes her head, while giving you a mocking smile.

"You don't."

You look at her, then look back towards the room Venus went to, and then look back at her.

"Okay....What do you want to do? A hotel? Or-"

"Shut it."

You're surprised by her rudeness.

"We are going somewhere where she can see us. Got it?"

"S-Sure."

"Oh and we need a name for me too. I want one just as good as hers."

You instinctively glance at the description of the figure.

"Freya?"

You see a smile playing around her lips.

"Sounds good."

"I don't think we should be here. This isn't just against museum rules, but also inappropriate."

"Zip it. I do what I want."

You sigh as she leads you into the sunlight. It seems like someone really paid the museum a lot of money to host this event. Which makes sense, since everyone here seems to be rich. The museum staff has placed a purple sun blind over the imperial box. From here, you have great view of the whole arena.

Of course it isn't in its original state, but it looks fabulous nonetheless. Which makes sense, since it's the second largest amphitheater of the Roman Empire. In the middle, where the gladiators have fought thousands of years ago, the museum has set up tables and chairs, a large buffet and even a small dance floor.

You feel odd, overlooking this beautiful scenery. Not just because you have a gorgeous woman lean over the balustrade right in front of you, but also because it feels wrong. This was once a place of blood and death. People died down there and yet these rich people treat it as some fancy place for a party.

"There she is."

Freya nods towards Venus, who is standing near the buffet. You can spot her easily. She is the most beautiful woman down there. You can't keep your eyes off that beautiful body.

You know her husband has to be there somewhere, but you can't tell who it is. And you're not even sure if you want to know. After all-

"What are you waiting for?"

You look over the bent over woman in front of you. Venus has so much control over you, you almost forgot about Freya. But now, you can see how beautiful she is as well. How sexy, how gorgeous. Just as much a goddess as Venus is. Same but different.

"Kneel for me and make yourself useful."

You hesitate. Venus wasn't really this commanding. But in the end, you don't care. As long as it means you are able to have sex with a woman like her.

You feel the naked stone on your knees. Reaching forward, you slowly lift up Freya's dress. Her blue underwear matches the dress. You lean in and give the back of her thighs kisses. You taste her skin, making sure you take your time as you carefully make your way upwards. When you eventually meet her clothed core, you plant a kiss on the fabric.

Freya's legs open a little wider, but you change directions. You lick and kiss her cheeks, giving them an occasional bite or two.

"That feels good..."

You continue, until you feel like she is starting to get impatient. Pulling at her panties, you watch them slowly glide down her smooth legs.

Licking your lips, you stare at her exposed pussy. It's a little darker than Venus', but not less beautiful. You lean in. One slow lick from the bottom to the top. It makes her hum in appreciation. You reach for her cheeks to pull them apart a little further. Taking in Freya's scent, you begin to feast on her pussy, while the rich people feast on the buffet in the arena.

You quickly notice that Freya isn't as wet as Venus is. It takes you a while to finally have her dripping. But for some reason, that just makes it taste even better. You lick along her folds, part them with your tongue, dive in deep. And then you retreat, circle around her outer lips, dip down to let your tongue flick against her clit. And then you start from the beginning once more.

Throughout your delicious meal, Freya has stayed mostly quiet. An appreciative moan here and there, a slight gasp, whenever you try something new. You can really see how the two women differ from each other.

As you keep going, you notice how Freya likes it when you use your hands on her ass from time to time. Pull her cheeks apart a little, slightly dig your fingers into them, squeezing them. You feel how she slowly becomes hotter, how her body's temperature starts to rise. She starts to move back a little as more pleasure rushes through her system.

Making your final move, you take her clit into your mouth. You suck on it, making her squirm for a moment. And then, a deep moan leaves her body. She shakes in front of you, your hands on her ass and hers on the balustrade keep her standing. More of her juices leave her pussy, which you taste as you dive back in during her high.

When you finally move away from her, you take a look at her now glistening folds once more. But when you're about to stand up, you feel one of her hands pushing your head back down.

"What makes you think you're done?"

You're surprised she wants more. You would've loved to feel her lips, or her pussy on your cock. But you decide to follow her lead. Maybe you'll get even more out of this.

"That's a good boy."

You hear her sigh when you place your lips on hers once more. Closing your eyes, you enjoy her taste. The moment is short lived, when you hear your phone's ringtone.

"Answer it."

Freya's voice is laced with mischievous intent.

You quickly realize why. She must've seen how Venus took out her phone and is now calling you.

"Hello?"

"Are you hiding from me?"

"I'm-"

You get interrupted by Freya, who pulls your face toward her core.

"I'm not."

You resume your meal, while Venus talks on the other end of the line.

"Good. I'm really horny right now. And I need you."

"I'm not sure if we should do it here. Your husband-"

"Oh, don't worry. He won't catch us, I promise."

"I don't-"

"It's gonna be quick."

Freya lets out a sigh as your tongue swipes upwards a little too high, coming dangerously close to her other hole. You bite your lip for a second, hoping Venus didn't hear that.

"I'll reward you."

Seems like Venus took your silence as indecisiveness.

"I'm going to head to your hotel room after this event. My body will be yours tonight."

You almost let out a groan into Freya's pussy.

"Is there anything you would prefer me in?"

You feel the other woman's hand on the back of your head again, urging you on to keep eating her out.

"A specific dress? Lingerie? Nothing?"

You close your eyes, trying to stay strong. At the same time, you keep you face buried between Freya's legs.

"Yes, that feels good."

Her moan is way louder than all the other ones.

"Mars, what's going on?"

You realize that she did it on purpose.

Freya now reaches for your phone.

"Keep going."

She takes and places it on her ear.

"Hello, darling?"

You don't hear what Venus is saying. You let out a sigh, but resume your work. You kinda feel like you betrayed her. But the again, you aren't in a relationship. She is even married to someone else.

"Oh, I bet he's loving dessert right now."

You hear Freya's breath hitch as you let your tongue circle around her clit once more.

"Oh damn, you really weren't lying. He is gonna make me cum again."

You double your efforts at her words. The damage is done already. Might as well finish the job.

"Don't get all possessive, honey. I'm sure he won't mind sleeping with you tonight."

"Really? And what are you gonna do about it?"

You feel how Freya is getting closer again. This bantering with Venus is probably getting her off even more.

"What makes you think you're a better fuck than me?"

"Oh, I'm so up for that. I'm gonna show you how much better I am."

You suck on Freya's clit once more. And the climax of her conversation and you work suddenly make her cum again.

"Oh, fuck!"

Once she calms down, Freya speaks again.

"That was amazing. Where we are? Just look up."

You notice how a second later the call ends. Freya turns around and gives you your phone back.

"While we wait for Venus, why don't you show me what you got there?"

She reaches for your belt and starts to undress you. When your pants and boxers fall onto the stone floor, Freya wraps her fingers around your cock.

"It's always hard to tell someone's size without properly measuring it, but I feel like Venus underestimated you."

She stands in front of you, while she begins to stroke your length. You can't help but reach out to feel more of her body. You place your hand on her naked waist.

"You like me, don't you?"

It's probably for the best, if you don't answer. So you stay silent, your eyes slowly wandering from her waist to her clothed tits. And your hands soon follow.

"You probably thought she was a goddess when you first saw her, huh? That's why you play this little game. But trust me, she is no better than I am."

Her confident smirk makes you realize that she genuinely thinks she is better than Venus. She isn't just saying that to make you choose her.

"Maybe we should start without her."

You watch how Freya's hand leaves your cock. She sticks out her tongue and licks her own palm. Then, she places her wet hand around your length again.

"Come on. Make everyone watch."

She turns around again. And like before, Freya bends over the stone balustrade.

You hold your breath for a moment. You really must be lucky if you get to have sex with her. But, if Venus is about to join the two of you, this might turn into the best day of your life.

Stepping behind her, you align yourself with her pussy. Your tip grazes her lips. When you push inside, you hear her let out a sigh.

"No wonder she doesn't want to share you."

Your hands are on her waist. You feel that waist chain between your fingers. But that's by far not the best thing you're feeling right now. Her tight cunt is nicely wrapped around your cock, keeping you inside as you attempt to back up.

When you start to properly fuck her, you already hear the sounds of someone walking behind you. It's still a little further away, but it's growing closer. You decide that this the best moment to make use of Freya's pussy as much as possible. You don't know what might happen next.

"Fuck, right there."

She moans when you fuck her harder. Soon, you place one of your hands on her clothed tits, while the other stays on her waist. You take her from behind, enjoying her body to the fullest. As every thrust leads you deeper and deeper inside, you start to forget all about the world around you. Her tight grip on your cock is all that matters right now. Your thrusts become faster. And the sound of your hips meeting her ass becomes louder.

"The two of you started without me?"

You quickly turn your head. Venus is standing behind you, a pout on her lips. Your eyes immediately roam her body. Her beauty and Freya's pussy around your cock make your head spin.

"Why don't you join me? Venus?"

Freya says her name once more with an underlying emotion. But to your surprise, Venus walks closer. She captures your lips with hers, her hands on your chest. By now, you've stopped fucking Freya. Which she doesn't seem to like. The bent over woman moves her hips and you groan into Venus' mouth.

Venus breaks the kiss and whispers into your ear.

"Make sure your cum belongs to me."

She gives you a mischievous smile, before she backs away. Just like Freya, she bends over the balustrade. The two women are barely an arm's length apart from each other. But your view has suddenly improved immensely. Your eyes are glued to Venus' ass as you start to fuck Freya once more.

Your self control only lasts a second. You reach over to squeeze the cheek that is closest to you. Venus looks back at you, a satisfied grin on her face.

"Can't take your hands off me?"

You nod as you try to keep up the pace of your fucking. Freya has begun to moan again, this time a little louder. Her tight pussy is holding onto you as if she knew you're on the brink of jumping ship.

"Come on, Mars. It's not polite to leave a woman waiting."

You close your eyes. Count to three. When you reach three, you don't know if you should pull out or not. You count to three again. And again. And finally you feel yourself pulling out all the way. Freya's walls drag along your length and a long sigh leaves her lips.

Only now do you notice that she is breathing heavily. You decide you're kind enough to give her a break.

A moment later, you stand behind Venus. Your wet cock rests on the fabric of her dress as you squeeze her cheeks. She purrs like a cat in the sun, already getting wet by just your hands on her body.

As much as you love seeing her ass like that, you eventually realize the urge to bury yourself inside of her grows larger. You hike up her dress. No panties. If only her husband knew what a slutty wife he has. The already familiar sight of Venus' pussy doesn't give you time to hesitate. You quickly push inside. That familiar warmth closes down around your length immediately. Reaching forward, you take a hold of both of her naked shoulders. The way she is leaning over the balustrade probably enables everyone in the arena to look deep into her cleavage.

But she doesn't seem to care. Venus' moans are just as loud as Freya's as you start to fuck her as well. You can tell how much wetter she is. Her juices practically coating your cock.

"That's right. I promised you. You own my body tonight."

You groan in response. The urge to lean down and give her exposed back a bite is unusually strong. But you focus on fucking her harder. Her pussy basically asking for it. Her tight walls squeezing you, her juices making sure your thrusts are smooth.

Eventually, you make the mistake of looking to your left. Freya is still standing there, elbows on the balustrade, as she bites a nail while she watches. You can tell that she wants more. It takes you a while to muster enough self control, but then you manage to pull out of Venus. She gasps in surprise.

But before she can even turn her head, you already bury yourself inside Freya's tight and waiting cunt.

That's how you fuck them both for quite a while. You actually last way longer than you thought you would. The constant switching from one woman to the other gives you always a couple of seconds to breathe. After a while, the two of them learn how to live with it and sharing you becomes visibly easier.

You're fucking Venus right now, while Freya has moved a little closer, so you can finger her at the same time. You can't even count anymore how often you switched between them. But when you deliver one unusual deep thrust into Venus, you're suddenly very aware that you probably won't be able to switch again.

Your strength is starting to leave you as well. Freya seems to have noticed.

"You're gonna give us your cum now, right? Dump your load into our pussies, after you used them like you wanted to."

Her words don't slow your approaching orgasm down at all.

"Oh, yes. Fill me up."

Venus sighs as she feels your cock throbbing inside of her. You reach out to Freya, moving her closer. The two of them are now side by side, their asses touching. You try to count your thrusts, but it's in vein.

When you cum, you bite your lip in pleasure. Venus' pussy almost traps you inside of her as you shoot two streaks of cum inside. But after a short struggle, you finally manage to pull out. One long streak hits both their asses, before you're able to push into Freya one last time.

"Fuck, yes."

She sighs loudly as she feels your cum rush into her body.

The three of you are all out of breath and you almost collapse on top of Freya.

"You still haven't answered my question."

You look over to Venus. Her ass is covered in cum and you see how a long trail of it is already running down her right leg.

"How would you like me tonight?"

You think hard about this. You might never be able to see her again after tonight. Who knows where she is gonna be tomorrow.

"I want you to wear nothing, but two things."

She raises an eyebrow in question, a cheeky smile on her lips.

"Heels and a choker."

Freya lets out a chuckle.

Venus gets off the balustrade. You notice how her arms are a little red. She kisses you again, while you're still inside the other woman.

"I'll be there at 10."

[obx-4-life]

Teach me...

Bsf!rafe × inexperienced!reader

Warnings: Mastrubation (fem reader), use of doll, and princess, Rafe being a softie, fingering, virgin reader, inexperienced reader. 18+ MDNI

A/n: Sorry if this is no good, it was rushed and I didn't have time to proofread. Let me know what you think or if you'd want a part two. Loved writing a story for Rafe x reader. Tysm guys <3

Please don't copy my work

(Divider isn't mine, credits to whoever made it <3)

For a while now, every single time you saw your best friend, Rafe, you left with an achy feeling in your lower stomach. You wondered why? How? He's your friend, it's wrong, you can't want him.

Today was particularly difficult to peel your eyes away from his perfectly sculpted muscles as you sat on the beach together. Every touch set your body on fire, growing more and more desperate each time.

You managed to control yourself for those few hours, but when you got home, you could feel your core throbbing, begging for Rafe. You flop down onto your bed, drifting away in your thoughts, how hot your best friend looked when he unintentionally flexed his muscles, licked his bottom lip, smiled at you, gazed into your eyes. You felt like you were constantly being teased.

Without realising it, too busy daydreaming, your fingers had slipped below the hem of your panties, desperate for some sort of relief.

You tried rubbing your clit, using your fingers on your self, but it wasn't enough, you needed more and didn't know what to do about it. So you did what anyone else would do, ask their friend for help. It's just help, he's just my friend, I just trust him enough to show me how to have a good time, just that, nothing more... You try to convince yourself that you don't like Rafe, but how couldn't you, everything about him drew you in, made you want to be his, and his only.

So you text him.

You: "I know this is gonna sound so weird, but I need your help"

Rafe: "what with?"

You: "can't get myself off, and there's no one else I trust enough to talk to about this kinda stuff, and I really need some help right now, Rafe"

Rafe: "ok, ok, I'll be round in 5 minutes, yeah?"

You: "thanks Rafey"

Rafe has a key to your house, so he just walks in. He finds you sprawled out on your bed, your cheeks flushed pink, and a frustrated look on your face.

"Hey Rafe. Thanks for helping me with this"

"Mhm, no problem doll. How'd you want me?"

"Your fingers... please... I don't know how to do it to myself properly, I've never uhm well, you know"

"Finished or fucked?"

"Both" you admit shyly.

Rafe sits down next to you, reassuring you, he begins to whisper things into your ear to prepare you to take his fingers but you quietly mumble you "m'already really wet, Rafey".

He looks up to you, silently asking for you if you're ok with this, when you nod, he pulls down your panties before gently pushing your legs apart a bit further than they already were.

You'd heard Rafe fucking girls before, he was always rough and degrading, but here, now, he was sweet, caring, just like the boy you've been friends with all these years, you were the only person to see his soft side and you were eternally thankful for that.

"Y'ok with this, doll?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod. Rafe drags his long, thick, middle finger along your slit, collecting your juices and nudging his finger against your tight, pink, hole. He gently inserts his digit and you let out a whimper, not used to the feeling. His fingers are much bigger than yours and he's way more skilled at knowing the exact angles to position his fingers at.

"Mhm Rafey, you can move it."

He draws his finger back out before sinking it back into you, your gummy walls tightly clenching around his digit.

"Fuck, princess, you're so tight"

After a while, you get used to the feeling, mewls of pleasure slipping out of your mouth. Rafe notices this and adds a second finger and then proceeds to curl them, immediately finding the sensitive spot that makes you moan almost pornographically.

He repeatedly curls his fingers, hitting that spot each time until your walls flutter around him before you come undone. You orgasm coating his fingers in your juices.

Part 2...?

[lovelynicho]

&team reaction to - making out

pairing: &team x gn!reader

Genre: suggestive

Warnings: making out (obvi), includes Maki

Masterlist

K

He likes to make out in bed. Lying on top of you, kissing you like a hungry animal. His hands touch every part of you he can reach and he likes it if you do the same. But after you take off his shirt and sees the spark in your eyes when you see his toned upper body, he holds both of your hands above your head so he can torture you. Then he kisses you again with the same intensity as before. Later he would travel down your neck with kisses. He likes to listen to you begging for him to finally let your hands go so you can touch him. I guess it is needless to say that he's definitely going to take things further.

Fuma

Fuma is a strong guy and he likes to use his strength. He likes to pick you up and put you on the nearest surface (maybe on the kitchen counter or a table) while kissing you. His hand travels up and down your body but he always ends up grabbing your thighs. He just loves thighs. Eventually he starts kissing your neck moaning into your skin whenever you pull on his hair. His voice is so deep, so hot it drives you crazy. He usually likes to take things further (maybe even on the kitchen counter).

Nicholas

Nicholas is a wild card. Like he LOVES to tease you. Just leaning in but as soon as your lips just barely touch he leans back immediately laughing at your offended expression. But after a while he just can't take it anymore and he has to kiss you properly and when he does he's not leaving your lips again. Also I think he likes to bite your bottom lip, just loves to hear the sound you make when he does that. His hands are probably on your butt. I'm convinced that he's an ass guy. Moans into the kiss when you touch him, especially when you touch his waist. When he feels that you're getting more hungry, your kiss is getting more intense, he just can't stop smiling against your lips. Although sometimes he just wants to make out most of the times he likes to take it to the bedroom.

EJ

I think EJ loves your chest. Don't ask why but he's just really into it. It doesn't matter if you have bigger boobs or not he just LOVES your chest. So when you two make out you are probably pushed against the wall his hands going up and down your body and he just pulls away with a grin on his face. He looks down and then back into your eyes and he keeps the eye contact as he starts to kiss down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt so he can have access to your chest. And then he just starts kissing it, all wet. He loves it when you pull on his hair while moaning, it drives him insane. It makes him moan into your skin which drives you insane. He probably wants to take things further but of course he understands if you're not in the mood.

Yuma

He's a cutie. He's always smiling whenever you initiate a make out session, it's an ego boost for him. He loves smiling into the kiss and loves when you do the same because it's his way to show you how much he enjoys making out with you. One of his hands is on your face the other is on your waist drawing circles on the skin underneath your shirt. He also likes it if you put your hands on his waist, under his shirt. He loves to feel you against his skin. But he also likes it when you put your hands in his hair especially if you pull on it. He might (definitely) moan into the kiss. He whispers sweet things to you like "you're so pretty/handsome" "I love the way you kiss". You only take things further if you insist, he won't push anything.

Jo

He's so cute even when making out. It always starts with a shy kiss, his hands slowly wrapping around your waist, touching you very carefully like you're made out of porcelain. When you start digging your hands into his hair he also becomes braver. He deepens the kiss as he's pulling your hips against his. One of his huge hands comes to cup your face, it is so soft but so hot at the same time. It's always up to you if you want to take things further because he's just too shy to ask, even if he really wants you.

Harua

I can picture Harua making out in two ways. One is when he's sitting on the couch or on the bed and you're in his lap kissing him with passion. He loveeeeees touching your ass and thighs. When he feels like it's time to do something else too he usually holds your hips firmly and makes you grind on him slowly making you both want more. The other way is similar but this time he's in your lap. He's so small I just feel like he loves to be in your lap, especially in a make out session. He likes to cup your face and neck then slowly make his hands' ways down so he can go up under your shirt, all this while your hands are wrapped around his waist. He really enjoys just making out without getting more heated, but if you want to he's never against the idea of doing more.

Taki

He's the one who likes to take risks. And by that I mean he likes to make out in public. In an empty hallway or a dressing room he likes to unexpectedly start kissing you. I think he's into agressive make out sessions which include lots of biting on lips and grabbing your waist. After a while he likes to go down to your collarbones. If you're in public (lots of times) he probably keeps one of his hands on your mouth so you don't make any noise. When you're in public you usually wait until you go home but sometimes you continue it wherever you are.

Maki

He loves your thighs. You usually make out in two ways. One is when you're standing and he puts one of his hands under one of your thighs so he can hold it next to his waist. He's kissing you aggressively while grabbing your thigh (his hand might or might not leave marks there). The other way is when he's sitting on a chair or on the couch and you're in his lap. His hands are going back and forth between your ass and thighs but always, ALWAYS ends up on your thighs. He likes it if you put your hands on his shoulders or arms. He's been working out a lot so please compliment him, tell him how strong he is, it will make him kiss you even harder!

[avocado-writing]

Hello! Might I ask for the lovely bg3 guys hearing tav say they're love them in the middle of an argument please? Take your time!

Astarion

Who knows what you're arguing about. It could be something sincere (his ascention) or something inane (he took your soap without asking, again) but it still slips out all the same:

"You're lucky I love you, or I'd be really angry."

The two of you stop and stare at each other for a moment, before you let out a strangled little sound and exit the conversation.

Astarion is baffled. He wasn't expecting that. Except, he sort of was? He's been trying to get you to fall for him after all, so why does it feel so... nice to hear you say it? And why does he feel so guilty?

The two of you move on like nothing's happened for a while, the tension bubbling between the two of you, until eventually he can't take it any more.

The two of you are on watch one night and he blurts out, "I love you too."

You stare at him for a long moment, he's never felt smaller. "Are you being serious?" "Yes. I am."

You look so relieved. He brings you into his arms and the two of you stay embraced for the rest of the night.

Gale

It's like you're arguing about the bomb inside him.

He's arguing it's the best solution to your problems, you're telling him that he needs to care about himself more. You're getting so frustrated that tears are starting to sting hot in your eyes.

"I wish you loved yourself like I love you, Gale."

Ah, you didn't mean to let that slip out. The two of you let the quiet sink in. You go to move away, his silence crushing, but he reaches out to grab you - not hard, but enough so that you stay.

"You love me?"

Tears come, inevitably.

"Of course I love you, Gale, you utter fool."

You can see he wants to argue about that but for once just takes the insult, pulling you into his arms so tightly you feel like he'll keep you there forever. Yes, he is a fool for not seeing it earlier.

"I love you too. You are the most precious thing in my life. I'm sorry for worrying you... and you're right, of course. You're always right."

You sleep in his arms that evening, and the Netherese Orb is never mentioned again.

Wyll

Oh, Wyll. Why would you be arguing with this sweet, kind man?

Maybe you're begging him to try and get out of his contract with Mizora, take back hold of his own life again. He's arguing about duty, what he owes to Baldur's Gate.

"I wish you'd think for once about what you owe to me, Wyll. To yourself! I love you!"

His mouth falls open, he's flabbergasted. When you try and escape he doesn't let you, following you into the forest where you run, calling your name.

Eventually you slow down enough for him to catch you and bring you in for a sweet kiss, then press his forehead against yours.

"I love you too. Of course I love you. I hate that I ever made you feel anything less than my absolute priority. You are always the first in my heart."

The two of you sit down and have a long, healthy conversation about talking things out as a couple. Making decisions together. At the end of if you come out stronger, united as a team.

Halsin

Halsin is probably the most laid-back on this list, it's hard to think of something you'd really argue about.

It comes down to this: you aren't taking care of yourself enough. Not eating properly, sleeping properly, sharing your burdens. You are trying to shoulder it all.

He keeps telling you that you need to be kinder to yourself - you keep snapping that he isn't in charge, he doesn't know what it's like. He tells you he cares about you too much to see you in pain.

You're angry at first - who is he to tell you what to do - and then you're just sad; burying your face in his chest.

"I love you too much to argue with you, Halsin," you whisper, and his heart melts.

"I love you too, my heart. Let me take care of you."

He cooks you dinner and makes sure you eat it all, draws you a bath and helps you wash. His fingers are magic. He lays down with you on your bedroll and lets his body warm yours, keeping you tight against him, only drifting off himself when he is sure you are sound asleep.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery VIII

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You go to the cat shelter

If Ingrid was getting you a cat then she would do it properly.

She'd researched cat shelters. She'd found one that had a recent intake of kittens.

A cat was a lifelong friend and you and your cat deserved to grow up together.

She'd contacted the shelter and arranged a visit.

Ingrid knew today would be the day you got your cat so she'd prepared with a carrier and some blankets. She'd expected you to get attached to the kittens, to want to keep all of them and she'd already planned out a speech on why you could only have one, two if they were particularly closely bonded.

Somehow, the alternative was much worse.

You hadn't gotten attached to the kittens at all. You'd had a lot of fun playing with them but none had sparked a bond with you.

So, Ingrid resigned herself to you having a full grown cat as your companion. It wasn't the growing up together idea she had planned but that was okay.

Ingrid watches as you go through the rows of enclosures full of cats. She's content to let you and Mapi take the lead, equally as excited as each other and feeding off each other's energy.

You gasp and Ingrid looks up from her phone.

"I love them!"

At first, Ingrid is glad that you've found a cat that you seem to like but then she looks at Mapi and goes pale. Mapi's eyes are wide and she's furiously shaking her head at Ingrid.

Mapi can deny you nothing so Ingrid knows it's up to her to guide you away from this decision.

Though she isn't quite sure why Mapi isn't happy that you've found your forever friend.

Well...maybe because it's not one forever friend but two.

Ingrid's face mimics Mapi's perfectly as she peers into the cage.

Two cats sit inside.

One is truly a monstrosity. It's massive with long, ginger fur and a tuft that reaches all around its neck like a mane. Its face is reminiscent of a lion as well, all regal and judgemental.

The second is also a ginger tabby but the size of a regular cat. Or, it would be if it wasn't the fattest cat Ingrid has ever seen. It's practically a circle and she wonders briefly how it's even supporting its own weight as it wanders over to where you've stuck your fingers through the arms.

"I see you've found our gingers."

Ingrid nearly screams as one of the shelter workers approach.

"They were surrendered by a nice old lady who couldn't care for them anymore."

Mapi scoffs. "Yeah, looks like she really cared for them." She's pointedly looking at the chunky cat that has now rolled onto its back for belly tickles that you strain through the bars to give it.

The shelter worker winces. "Yeah, he's a little fat, isn't he?"

"Not fat!" You snap," Cuddle sized!"

The worker laughs a little bit. "He does give good cuddles. But he's on a weight loss program. Believe it or not he was much larger when he arrived."

Ingrid can't believe it because this cat is truly round and she can't imagine it being fatter than it is now.

"And of course, we've got his young friend there. They were surrendered together so they're very attached. They're bonded so we can't let one go without the other."

"Here that, cub?" Ingrid decides to break it to you now. "We can't bring one of them home without the other. Say goodbye now and we'll go and look at the kittens again."

You pout, drawing your hand away from the fat cat. "Bye-bye."

You turn to leave, Mapi already halfway across the room to see the kittens again before a loud yowling chirp freezes you in your tracks.

The big lion cat keeps warbling until you turn to face it.

"Sorry," You say," Mama says we can't take you away from each other."

As if he knows who to blame, the lion cat hisses at Ingrid before purring as he rubs his body across the bars of the cage. His fat companion remains flopped on his back in invitation (though Ingrid's ninety percent sure it's because he's so fat that he can't actually get up again).

Ingrid tries to guide you away but the lion cat keeps calling for your attention and the fat cat stays on his back for belly tickles.

She looks at Mapi for help.

"No," She says, catching Mapi's apologetic look," Mapi, no. He's fat and the other one is a monstrosity."

"Ingrid..."

"Mapi! You can't be serious!"

"We agreed on getting her a cat."

"Yes, a cat! One cat!"

"You said two at a stretch," You say quite unhelpfully. Over the course of the argument, you've somehow gotten into the cage and are sitting on the floor happily as you give the fat cat belly tickles while the monster sits in your lap.

"Oh, yeah, you did say that Ingrid."

"Mapi, whose side are you on right now?"

"Er...I'll be quiet. Cub, if you want the cats you need to convince Ingrid."

"I won't be convinced."

You stay silent for a long while even as Ingrid tries to get you moving.

Eventually, you stand and approach her. The fat cat is dangling from your hands as you present him like baby Simba. The lion cat sits at your feet, teeth bared in warning should Ingrid deny you.

"I love them!" You tell Ingrid earnestly," They're both cuddle sized and I love them a lot!"

"Cub," Ingrid says," They might be mean to Bagheera. You don't want Bagheera to feel sad, do you?"

"Actually," The damned shelter worker says," They're both perfectly good with other cats."

"Well..." Ingrid desperately tries to come up with another excuse.

"Mama," You say," Please?" Your eyes glisten with unshed tears as the fat cat mews pitifully at Ingrid.

She sighs.

"Cub, if I let you-"

"Mami! Mama's letting me keep them!" You tell Mapi triumphantly who gives you the biggest fake smile in the world.

"That's great, Cub!" She tells you before muttering under her breath to Ingrid," How could you let this happen?! The monster is going to kill me in my sleep! And the fat one is going to eat all our food!"

"How is this my fault?!" Ingrid hisses back, already reaching to take the paperwork," You're the one that left it up to me!"

"Because you're meant to be the strong one! We both know I would have caved much earlier! Why couldn't you be strong, Ingrid? Why?"

Ingrid signs her name on all of the papers and sighs. "Because she was about to cry and the monster looked like he was about to bite me."

Both of them turn to look at where you're still cuddling with the fat one. The monster is staring back at them, unblinking as it flicks its ear dismissively.

"Are we sure that's a cat?" Mapi checks," I think we should call the zoo."

"It might eat us before that..."

You seem happy though, a beaming smile on your face all the way home.

Both cats make themselves at home. The fat one finds Bagheera's usual sunspot and flops down. His whole body stretches out as he snoozes easily.

The monster immediately jumps onto the kitchen counters to survey his new kingdom and you dart around setting out the new bowls and toys before grinning at Ingrid and Mapi, who are awestruck at how brazen these new cats are.

Bagheera seems to be similarly shocked and a tad judgemental as she pokes her head out of her cat tree to stare.

"He is Garfield," You point at the fat one," Because he is round and cuddle sized." You point at the monster. "And that's León because he is my little lion."

In no way would Ingrid describe that cat as little.

Mapi, for the first time today, decides to be helpful. "You can't call him León," She says," That's our surname. He's León León."

You nod. "I know. It's a pretty name for a pretty lion."

Ingrid wouldn't describe him as pretty either.

"Garfield and León-León," You say with an air of finality," Mami, Mama, thank you for my kitties!"

[ardensregias]

the best relief.

nsfw (*´꒳`*) afab!reader. model!yingxing x bodyguard!reader. dumbification. fingering. you call him "sir"—reader is very polite lol. reader wears makeup. edging. mirror sex. overstimulation. breeding. petnames used: darling, sweetheart. praises!!! :D forced eye contact 😵‍���� he's a bit of a meanie but he's very in love w you hehe :33

it doesn't look good to me... hope yall like it though (_ _).｡o○ please have this to make up for the boothill smut i couldn't make a part two of 😔

the soft clinking of yingxing's extravagant accessories cuts through the silence of the night, accompanied by the sound of your angelic voice moaning his name as if he was your god as he plunged another rough finger into your drooling hole—practically begging him for more, hungrily swallowing his digits that he thinks they'll snap if you were to clamp down any harder.

"so needy f'me, aren't you?" a throaty growl escapes his chest, tinged with desire as the model leans down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, muffling your voice as he frenziedly pushes you up against the sink, positioning your legs in between his to keep you from squirming away.

yingxing swears he was never the type to do something like this to relieve his stress, as he knows the potential risks of it turning into a cosmos-wide scandals that will end up ruining everything he's worked hard to achieve—on the other hand, he simply doesn't have the ability to reject you when you were the one who voluntarily offered yourself to him, whispering in his ear about how you'd help him out in any way he wanted—so here you are; your clothes in disarray and a clear thread of saliva trickling down your chin, a testament of the supermodel's ability to make an absolute mess out of you, his precious soon-to-be girlfriend bodyguard.

you've always been a great bodyguard for him—a kindhearted and caring individual who takes good care of him while also being a bold and tenacious guardian whenever the pesky paparazzis are getting out of hand with their disturbances; which makes it even more enjoyable to break you into putty in his hands—and just to remind you, he hasn't even gotten to the fun part yet.

your hand flew over your mouth, trying so hard to muffle the sinful noises that escaped your pretty lips; fearing that yingxing's manager or that mysterious vidyadhara friend of his would barge into his house and caught you in the act. seeing this, his frown deepens, his hand swatting yours as he sinks his fingers deeper into your drenched hole, creating a series of loud sloshing noise that only serves to mortify you further at how dirty they sound.

"don't, i want to hear how good i made you feel," he whispered right beside your neck, tickling the sensitive skin on purpose.

you shake your head, unable to answer him properly without stuttering and making every words sound like a moan, "sir, what if—ah!" and with a simply curl of his fingers in the right direction, your complaints are silenced and replaced with high pitched cries—oh boy, at this rate, his tailored pants might just burst open with the way his bulge keeps growing bigger when he himself thought it couldn't anymore, all thanks to your beautiful voice.

"focus on me, don't think of anyone else," from the growl he struggled to suppress and the way he use his other hand to pinch your bud, you can tell that he's not very fond of the mentions of others during times like these—and you can't help your walls from twitching again at his demanding words, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach, tightening further at his precise movements. more incoherent words left your throat, and he smirks in acknowledgment of your nearing climax, drawing his fingers out just right before you can experience that oh-so-blissful feeling of relief.

a soft, frustrated whine left your throat as you clench around nothing, your lips curling downwards in disappointment as you look at him, "sir, why did you stop...?"

he doesn't respond, his attention completely directed at the crystal-clear substance coating his glove—a clear evidence of the euphoric experience he puts you through. aren't you just so adorable? getting so excited just by his fingers alone?

"eager, aren't we?" he sneers, pressing your bottom lip to make way for his soiled fingers, giving you a taste of yourself and oh aeons, why do you have to be so cute? eyes wide with tears and drool dripping down your chin as you lap the remaining of your own juices off the fabric, making his cock twitch yet again.

he's not gonna hold back anymore, he thinks—no, he simply cannot—hastily unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers, he sighs in relief when his erection is finally freed, the blunt head already leaking precum—a shiver ran down your spine, words catching in your throat at the length and girth; will it even fit?

yingxing smiles at the terrified look on your face, inching closer to playfully slap your folds with his tip, earning another whimper from you, "aww, are you scared, sweetheart?"

"no... i-it's fine, i can take it, sir," you slowly shake your head, still trying to look brave—the slight waver in your voice did not go past his ears though; it boosted his ego, actually.

the man snickered, gaze locking with yours, slowly guiding himself into the warm embrace of your walls, "we'll see about that,"

he sighs in pleasure as he watches your cunt eagerly swallows and clench around his length, as if trying to pull him in—so he reciprocates; jerking his hips to meet your pelvis in a slow and steady motion—your comfort and pleasure comes first, even if he is the one who needs this. still, you cannot help but roll your eyes whenever he reach deep enough to press against your sensitive spots, like he's done this millions of times before.

when he heard your moans getting louder, the man starts to pick up his pace, moving rougher and more demanding as his arms reach for your waist, pulling you down and bending you over so you can face the mirror; watching him pour out all his stress into your abused cunt and the way your body is arching against the sink—a sight so lewd that you want to look away from it, but no, he won't allow it; he wants you to see just how good he's making you feel—and he savors every moment of it, carving the memories of this obscene scene into his brain.

"sir—!" a tiny mewl left your lips when he pulls back, leaving only his tip inside, before slamming his hips back into yours, leaving not a single nook or cranny untouched—the intensity is enough to knock every single thought out of your pretty head. it feels too good, and before you could control yourself, your body lurched forward as you come undone on his cock, delicate fingers curling tightly onto the faucet as your poor body convulses in pleasure.

to stimulate you further, yingxing reach down to rub circles and patterns on your fluttering petals, "good girl—fuck, loosen up, will you? i won't be able to reward you if you don't let go of my cock," his voice is saccharine sweet, like a honeyed poison—so sweet yet so full of mirth, and you can't help but crave it more.

your gummy walls throb around him, trying so hard to not draw him in as he slowly drags his length across your overstimulated walls; yet you can't help yourself to not marvel at the sight of his silver hair cascading over your lower back, his eyes fluttering at how good it feels to nestle inside you—all reflected on the glass mirror for you to see.

but you were not able to gawk at him for long, for the haughty model always sought to catch you off guard—his hands squeezing the fat of your hips to ram his cock back inside, thrusting and rolling himself faster and harder than before, so much that you can hear the thwop thwop thwop sound, along with your soft wails harmonizing with his low grunts bouncing off the ceramic walls; you can only hope that his neighbors would not be suspicious of this totally-professional-relationship of yours.

as for the model himself, he couldn't care less, the only thing occupying his mind is that he has to lay his claim on you; to leave so many traces of his love on you that they will never fade no matter how many lives you have to go through—so he may always find you in every lifetime.

"keep your eyes on the mirror, darling," he clenches his jaw, guiding your chin up to face the fogged surface of the glass—yet it still cannot obstruct the sight of your lovely face; adorned with dark tears as a result of your smudged mascara, cheeks all warm and flushed, and trails of spit running down your chin. gosh, you really are the most gorgeous angel in this wretched world when you're fucked dumb on his dick.

"sir, i can't—"

"yes you can, and call me yingxing, please?" he coos, warm tongue prodding at your earlobe to coax you into obedience—not like he has to anyway.

"y-yingxing—ngh—yingxing yingxing! please, i'm—ah!" because his name immediately leaves your agape mouth like a mantra, along with unidentified words that got lost in between mewls and screams of pleasure; and that's all it takes for the course of pleasure to run down his body, eyes tightly shut as he releases rope after rope into your womb, pressing himself directly on that one delicate, spongy spot inside your pulsating warmth—which then leads to your second orgasm, the waves of pleasure coursing down your spine as your body tenses up, sticky fluid gushing out and spilling down the floor with a squelch.

he stills himself, panting heavily as his broad chest press down on your back; you can feel just how heated up he has gotten, how his coat is all drenched with sweat, how his voice cracks slightly as he mutters praises under his breath, "you're taking me so well... can you feel how deep i am right now?" his hand trails up your abdomen to press on a particularly warm and slightly protruding spot in your tummy; he really did not hold back in marking you, huh?

finally, after you both have calmed down, yingxing begins to pepper kisses on your hair and cheek, slowly grinding all the cum back inside you; he despises seeing it leave you, "are you okay?"

"yes, sir..."

he frowns, thumb caressing your chin in a slow motion, "i told you to call me yingxing," your vision is blurry due to the tears bubbling up your eyes, but you swear you could hear him pout at that.

before you could answer, he flipped you over, a pair of muscular arms supporting your trembling body as he positioned you to sit back on the sink, "i guess i need to fuck you some more, don't i? that way, your pretty little brain will never forget my name again," his smile turns into a full-blown grin, eyes sharp with mischief.

seems like this stress-relieving session is going to take longer than you anticipated.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

[diorcities]

⠀   ⠀ ── 𖥻 ๋ 𓈒 ⭐ ࣪ ࣭ ◍ ᜔ being a sleepy head !

nct dream fluff headcanon.

jaemin. at midnight, the sheets tangle on your limbs as his fingers run down your spine in a deliberate gesture. your tongue tangles in your palate and feels heavy as you talk about trivial things while he listens patiently. smiling sweetly when you can't follow the thread of your thoughts at the speed you desire, and your eyes look one last glimpse into his loving eyes before plunging you into a deep sleep. your body is covered by a blanket and you barely hear his voice saying “let's meet again in your dreams.” warming the place where your heart rests.

haechan. he is a night person. even with his schedules, he usually has more sleep resistance than you. you've both put on a series that you've been wanting to watch together, and since I this moments don't happen very often, you plan to spend the whole day curled up next to him. his body is so warm, and his grip comforting, that you soon decide to leave him to go to the ethereal world of dreams. and among the semi-unconsciousness, you think you feel his laugh poking you, “unbelievable, why you choose that boring movie if you were going to fall asleep?” just feeling your body being gently drawn to his “i'll tell you how the movie ends in the morning.”

jisung. the different time zones had your internal clock pretty damaged and crazy, to the point where you slept all afternoon and were more than awake at night. therefore, your night endurance is greater than jisung's. even on his day off, the poor boy does nothing but sleep. silence settles in the room when you know he's not listening to you anymore, hearing to the slight snoring of the boy with the cold nose on your neck, feeling him stir between dreams, “oh- fuck,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face, “did i fall asleep?” he asks. “pretty much, yeah.” you hear his muffled laugh, but deep down it makes you happy that he rests properly, especially when you know his workday. his only response is get closer to you. “keep talking, i swear i won't fall asleep this time.” quick spoiler: he did.

mark. it is a habit to put on a film and not pay attention to it while talking and using it as background noise. both of you have fairly tight schedules, and believe it is possible to do everything at the same time, such as ordering food delivery and chatting while watching a movie. but honestly, you are so exhausted, that the film takes a back seat while you both have your intimate moment full of kisses and caresses. it's impossible not to fall asleep for both of you. and even in the limbo of dreams, you're there with him, and he's talking to you while he sleeps, “i love you.”

renjun. he does not usually rest for long, and many times (only when you are aware that he is not by your side sleeping) you see him at his desk writing new entries in his diary, or painting with his watercolors. you are aware, too, that he does that when he is very overwhelmed or overloaded with things. and even when he goes back to bed the moment you notice his absence and wake up, or call his name, you worry that he's keeping him hidden from you; the way he uses art to release all the weight that keep him awake. “you scared me,” he pronounces shyly when you approach him and rest your head on his shoulder, “i woke you up? forgive me...” he stops his word when you shake your head, “should we go to bed, then?” he wonders, but again, you deny. “finish this first, love.” you smile tenderly, snuggling into him as he returns to his drawing: somewhat kind of similar to you.

chenle. having a tight schedule makes it difficult to see chenle often. you never seem to coincide because you leave first thing in the morning and when you arrive exhausted to sleep, chenle returns until late at night. he scolds you on occasion when you insist on staying up even when you both know that means you'll feel sleepy at work. in the end, he lets you do what you want, because deep down, he misses your long chats before going to bed. “so... one of my... coworkers said...” your eyelids close on their own, you swear by your life. and your tongue feels so heavy, but you must keep going, because seriously, seriously it's funny, “have you- seen my... sandwich?... and i said..., it's in...” chenle waits for the punchline while he strokes your hair, but it never comes, so with a amused smile dancing on his lips, he turns off the lamp. “your mouth?” he wonders at the ceiling, widening his eyes, “the toilets?”

jeno. the letters change places when you look at them for a long time. you blink, your eyelids heavy linger towards the empty coffee cup next to your notes; your attempt to do an all-nighter has been unsuccessful as you feel the sleep spell take control of your body. “come, darling,” seems to whisper sandman in your ear. as you are in the limbo between the two universes, your body seems to float and be welcomed by his warm embrace, followed by the gentle movement that lullies you back when jeno takes you to his room.

[adams-angels]

Can you do one where Adam sees you as a place holder for his wives and doesn’t respect you ever but when you want to leave him he realizes just how much he truly cares about you and then like over course of a period of time (your choice) we forgive him :)

Thank you for listening ❤️

This was a fun one! I love a bit of angst. Can't get enough of the stuff!!

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Reader POV because I got a similar ask which I'll write as Adams POV

Used

It's all I ever asked for. To be respected. To be loved. It wasn't fair. Why did I have to be alone and wait for him while he was out galavanting around the heavens! How was it fair? He'd only ever sees me for sex. He wouldn't reply to my texts but god fucking forbid I miss one of his texts.

Or in this case ignore. I've had enough. I'm not being second choice anymore! So I texted him "we're done." I know it's cowardly to "break up" via text but it's not even like we were dating! I placed my phone down on my side table. I should of put it on silent. Why didn't I put it on silent.

Curling up on my bed, tears flowing from my eyes as I hear the vibration on my phone. He's either calling or text bombing me. I pick up my phone to see several missed called and about 20 texts already.

You think you're better than me?!

You're nothing!

I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT

YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!

I sob.

I must of fallen asleep during my crying of self pity. I stretch out my arms as I sit up only to see Adam at the doorway. I scream in surprise, falling off my bed hitting my phone off the nightstand in the process. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" I yell at him.

He stands there, looming over me. "You want to leave me?" He asked, never had I heard him so emotionless. I tut as I stand up. "You say that like you cared." I retort, picking my phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards me, reaching out but I pulled away. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."

I can't help but sigh, collapsing on my bed, hair covering my face. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." I can hear Adam moving closer, his wings dragging across the floor. "What are you talking about?" One of his hands land on mine. "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with mine as his other hand brushes my hair from my face revealing my teary eyes. "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."

His hand cups my face and I just can't help but melt into his touch. "Be mine?" I shrug in response. Clearing his throat he clarifies, "no, I'm asking. Be mine." I can't help but look at him like an idiot, my heart skipping a beat. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"

"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He stares at me with a blank expression. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in what I can only assume is annoyance. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." Never have I seen him look so weak. So... Small? "I'll have to think about it." I can't tell if he feels relieved or worried. Maybe both. "H-how long will that take?" He asked with a hint of desperation.

"I don't know, Adam." I shrug. My words hung in the air. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kissed my hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." I watch as he leaves my apartment. No through the door of course, no, he always had to leave from the balcony. I usually watch as he flies away. But not this time..

It's been about a month since I last spoke to Adam. I've seen him about. Doing his thing. It makes me laugh. When ever he notices me he freezes up. Just last week he was talking to Sera and as soon as he noticed me walk past he just stared. I swear I heard Sera say "earth to Adam."

Today I decided. I head towards his office, walking past several anxious angles. I heard yelling come from inside his office and then something smash. Before I could knock the door swung open and standing before me was a very frustrated Adam. His feathers were literally ruffled. "Y/n?" He was surprised to see me but his expression changed quickly as he remembered in was in the presence of his underlings. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. It was mess. I mean, I've seen it messy before but this was a whole new level. Documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. "Bad day?" I commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven."

He slumps down on his chair, watching me as I walk over to his office window, opening it to get some of that heavenly fresh air in. "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight. "And?"

"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." I don't even get a chance to turn and face him before he's already darted from his chair wrapping me in his arms. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His wings surrounded us. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[chuubian]

Kinktober week two:

Hot To Go!

Tags Boothill x fem saloon maid reader, his dick vibrates, drinking, semi-public

Summary A handsome cowboy walks into the saloon without any credits. Before you can kick him out and report him, he offers to pay another way.

The loud screeching of old hinges draws your attention out of your work and to the front door. A weird looking cowboy comes in. He's completely made of steel except for his pale face, it's like nothing you've ever seen before. His heavy boots bang against the decaying slabs of wood flooring, then he sits at the bar, staring silently— waiting for you to service him. Putting the glasses and rag down, you head over to him.

“Hello sir, what can I get you?”

“A double tequila, darlin’.”

You raise an eyebrow. That's it?

“Just tequila? nothing else?”

“I can handle it.”

You shrug, walking back to grab him a glass, pouring in two shots of the clear liquid and sliding it in front of him. He grins— sharp teeth taking you by surprise. Did he purposely sharpen his teeth? The man reaches for his glass, tossing it back and drinking the straight liquor easily. You cringe just watching him.

“You seriously drink like that in the middle of the day?”

“Oh it’s nothin’… ‘s like water to me.”

Nose scrunching in disgust, you recoil at the thought of it. It's like 2 pm who in the world would think to drink this. He chuckles at your expression, sitting up and leaning forward— cheek leaning onto his cold, metal fist.

“Shouldn't you be glad I'm here, darlin’? Good for business, isn't it?”

He looks around the empty room.

“I'm the only one here, that's money you wouldn't have made otherwise.”

So that's how he sees it huh…

“Then it's 30,000 credits.”

He pauses, eyes widening. The clanging of iron sounds through the room as he sits up straight.

“Ain't that a bit expensive, sweetheart?”

You cross your arms.

“That's the set price. If you're saying you can't pay, then I'm gonna have to get the sheriff over here.”

That seems to astound him. He immediately starts fussing, leaning over the bar to try and calm you down.

“Now, now dear… We don't gotta go that far! come on, I'm in town all the time, you know me right?”

“No i don't, I've never seen you here. I don't even know your name.”

Clunky metal fingers run through his black and white hair as he puts his hat down on the counter in front of him.

“Boothill. See? now you know me.”

“If you don't pay, I'm calling the sheriff over here. I'm not kidding.”

Sharp nails dig into the wooden counter— he leans back, thinking of ways to deescalate the situation.

“Why don't we find some other way to repay you huh? We don't need to get law enforcement involved in somethin’ so small right?”

You consider it. It's not like your boss would know anyways, it wasn't even that much alcohol.

“What do you have in mind?”

—————-

The wind gets knocked out of your lungs as Boothill drags his rough tongue over your clit. His sharp metallic claws dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, trying to keep your unruly hips still. A choked whine gets caught in your throat as he sucks harshly on the sensitive little nub— it's like barbed wire has been wrapped around your throat, constricting any sound that may escape.

“Aghh… f-fuck!”

The only response from him is a harsh bite to your inner thigh, before he dives back in. He's like a man starved, consuming you completely. A hot wet tongue makes its way down to your entrance, teasing and taunting, with the intention of pushing in.

Your fingers thread through his long, black and white patterned hair— pulling, out of necessity to keep your peace of mind. Boothill slips inside and an embarrassing squelch echoes through the empty saloon.

“Don't move.”

He warns, holding you up against the old bar. Practically all your weight is leaning on his kneeling form— your legs were trembling terribly, struggling to hold up properly. Gummy walls squeeze around his tongue, gushing out more slick. He lets out a low moan, enjoying the slightly bitter taste.

“Sooo good…”

His words slur together. One of his fingers finds its way up to your puffy, abused clit, drawing little circles. Sparks flash behind your eyes and guttural moans bubble past your lips.

“Nghh… B-boothill!”

This only seems to encourage him more. He drags his tongue back out of your entrance. Your pussy feels empty without him, clenching around nothing— already becoming used to the force against your walls. Tugging him closer, you grind your cunt down onto his lips, trying to get more. That's all you need, just a little more.

“Needy, huh?”

He chuckles, lips wrapping around your over sensitive clit, sucking and licking at it harshly. You double over, stomach and thighs tensing from need and overwhelming pleasure. His steel palms feel surprisingly warm against your skin, gently caressing instead of digging in like before.

“Mmmf..! O-oh god Boothill!”

Eyes watering, back arching, grasping and pulling at his long locks, you finally come undone. A loud ringing resounds through your head, leaving your brain fuzzy and confused. You don't even process what's going on until Boothill’s bulky hands are turning you around, pushing your chest down onto the old wooden bar.

“You ready?"

Icy metal presses against you from behind. His grip on your hips is painful— he's sure to leave marks and bruises painted across your skin. You open your mouth to respond, but before any words leave your lips, he pushes in.

You keen high in the back of your throat as his hips sink home. Squirming, you try to adjust to his cock. It proves to be an impossible feat- especially when you abruptly feel the vicious whirr or his dick against your walls.

"W-waaiit-"

You only manage to utter a single word of protest. As soon as it leaves your mouth, Boothill pulls his hips back and slams back in. Controlling himself is inconceivable at this point. He sets a brutal pace, grinding cock up into you, nails biting into your flesh.

All you could do was whimper and wail in garbled mumbles. He didn't stop even for one second. Your back arched, as your face was smushed against the counter— dragging against the old wood, scratching your skin.

"Fuck. sweetheart...."

He trails off, lost in the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his vibrating cock. Leaning forward, he nips at the shell of your ear. The sting only amplifies the feeling of immense bliss. Your legs shake with effort— it was like nothing you've ever felt before. Drunk off the sensation of him working himself in and out, your cunt clutching onto him- trying to suck him in.

It's all too much. Your eyesight is blurring and a lump forms in your throat. The knot in the pit of your tummy is straining and tensing. Boothill buries himself deeper, pelvis striking against the supple flesh of your ass. His cock is carving out a space for itself, pulsating against your walls.

"Hnngh.. B-boothil..."

His strong hand leaves your hips, settling itself on your shoulder, keeping you down.

"That's right sweetheart. Just like that."

All the blood rushes to your head as his dick thrust into your sweet spot. Your body is boiling— overwhelmed and about to burst. He doesn't stop, taking enjoyment in seeing you struggle. Slick is dripping down your pussy to the junction between you and the ruthless man. Your mushy walls make way for him, surrendering under pressure. All you can hear is a loud buzz, as your body focuses on the euphoria it feels under his expert touch.

Incoherent babbles erupt from your lungs. Your hips twitch, fucking themselves back on his cock mindlessly. He's getting desperate. Shocking cold steel presses against your back as the vibrations spread through your entire body. The knot forming in your belly bursts and fire flows inside your veins. The heat is sweltering and mind boggling.

Nails claw against the splintering wood, frantic for any way to hold onto your sanity. Your throat burns, lungs heaving and wheezing, desperate for air. Sweat drips down your forehead, glistening under the bright sunlight shining through the window.

The tremors in your thighs simmer down and Boothill pulls away, massaging your poor exhausted legs.

"How was that?"

You struggle to answer, but he wasn't really looking for an answer anyways. He helps you clean up— wiping the sweat and slick off your skin, dressing you tenderly. Making sure you look just as nice as when he first came in before anyone else walks in.

[kingkat12]

quickie (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, party sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, drunk-ish sex, Roman is shameless and drunk lol, alcohol mentions

summary: Roman can't keep his hands off you-- no matter where you are.

word count: 1,581

It was hard to fight Roman’s grip around me, especially since he towered heads above me— I knew it was a lost cause. 

However, I was pissed. Pissed about how he had behaved at tonight's party, and how he had managed to get so drunk that he was grabbing at me at every opportunity. “Rome,” I huffed, putting my hands on his chest to force some space between us after he had managed to get us both into the bathroom.

Roman, drunk off his ass, did his best to keep his balance. He swayed a little, looking down at me with those hungry eyes I knew too well; “What? I can’t touch my girl?”

“Not here!” When I was sure he wouldn’t fall onto the bathroom floor, I quickly ran over to the door to lock it properly. “We’re at Letha’s birthday party, can’t you keep yourself together?” Amid my annoyance, I scanned him; all dressed up in his white shirt, hair gelled back into a classic heartbreaker look. I couldn't deny it all made my heart beat faster.

Hiccuping, Roman blinked twice— he clearly saw no issue with having sex at his cousin’s party. “Why should I?” He stepped towards me, watching me press myself up against the door. “We haven’t been alone all week… Isn’t this just the perfect opportunity?”

I struggled to hold back a shiver. It was tempting, sure, but completely inappropriate. “I’m not having sex with you in a bathroom,” I mumbled, no longer meeting his strikingly green gaze. “Makes me feel cheap.”

“Cheap?” Roman’s arms snaked around me once more, his soft lips pressing a kiss to my temple. “You’re looking at it all wrong.”

I did my best to phase out the strong smell of brandy coming from my boyfriend— I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of him when he was drunk. “And how am I supposed to look at it, then?”

He hummed against my skin, his fingers tracing circles into the back of my short, red dress. “Think of it more like… I can’t wait another second to be with you,” Roman placed a kiss against my cheek, drawing forth a pink-ish blush. “I want to feel you around me despite where we are, isn't that a nice thought? I would want you even if we were at a fucking trash compound.”

I could only laugh— he probably didn’t catch how big of a turn-off that image actually was, especially in his drunk state. “That sounds unsanitary,”

Roman chuckled, leaving behind a wet mark against my jaw after kissing me there. I closed my eyes, letting my head loll back against the door as I relished in the feeling; I had certainly missed this. 

“I don’t care,” he eventually said, one hand trailing up to twist itself in the nape of my hair. With another tug, evoking a whimper, Roman kissed his way up to my ear, leaving me heaving for air— it reminded me that he could leave me breathless, no matter the situation. 

I had to swallow my pride, realizing that his little scheme was working. “Someone could— hear,” Unexpectedly, my hips bucked forward in the middle of my sentence as Roman pressed a ridiculously soft kiss against my ear. My hands gripped his shirt, panting. “And you’re— you’re drunk!”

Roman hummed, a sinister, low laugh escaping him. “Let…” His hands dropped, fingers dipping past the edge of my dress as he slowly pulled it up along my thighs. I shuddered, bringing his face into my hands as I watched his green eyes sparkle with lust. “Me…” The dress was now at my waist, Roman’s eyes hungrily scouring my underwear. He didn’t spend a lot of time looking (he had always been more of a do-er, anyways) before he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against my lower abdomen. My breath hitched as Roman bunched up my dress, digging his long digits into my waist as he licked a stripe up to my navel, listening to my whimpers as he held me back from squirming. “Fuck…” He came up shortly after, a satisfied smirk on display across his full lips as he pressed me flush against him, connecting us with a passionate, fiery kiss. As he pulled away, I realized how dizzy I was— and I was about to beg him to do it again, until he slowly turned me around to face the door. My eyes were wide as Roman’s last words were whispered against my ear; “… You.”

At this point, I was practically gelatin in his arms. I could only nod, struggling to breathe as Roman kissed down my exposed neck, now grinding the hardness of his cock up against my ass with a relieved sigh. “Is that a yes?” he whispered, gently driving his teeth into my shoulder.

I whimpered— I couldn’t fight it anymore. “Yeah,” 

“Oh, thank God,” Roman’s grip around me tightened, proceeding to press passionate nips and bites up my neck. “I’ve wanted you all night… All fucking night.”

I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t remind me,”

Roman laughed, his hands taking in the softness of my skin against his rough ones before they traveled further down. “Now, now... Don’t get all sassy on me,” 

My eyes sprung wide open as his hands ghosted over my underwear, and I let out a wanton moan as his fingers brushed over my clit. “Sorry,” I tried, my apology quickly turning into a trail of profanities as he used two fingers to press down against me, rubbing me through my underwear as I leaned my forehead against the door in defeat. “Shit, shit—” 

Roman hummed into my shoulder, clearly happy with the results of his plot. “So, my girl likes to be touched now, hm?”

Fucker— he knew damn well. 

“Does she?” he teased, his tone only fueling the fire in my body. 

I could barely reply; my mind was dulled down by the feeling of Roman’s fingers rubbing tight, firm circles against my clit. 

He smirked, pressing several kisses against my shoulder. “Yes, she does,” 

Oh, Roman and his dirty mouth— I couldn’t take it. “We— We can’t be in here for too long,” I tried, panting into the wood of the door. “People will get, hah—suspicious.”

Thankfully, my boyfriend seemed to agree. “We’ll make it quick, then,” Roman wasted no time, a whine escaping my lips as his hands deserted the aching need between my legs. He hooked his fingers around my underwear, dragging it down and leaving it around my thighs before he reached for his zipper. 

“This is so stupid,” I mumbled, trying to catch my breath in the meantime. “I can’t believe we’re doing this—” My words came to a halt as Roman’s thick cock eased into me, and I let out a choked moan as I tried to support myself against the door. All my morals suddenly flew out the window; this felt too good to fight.

Roman suppressed his sigh of relief against my shoulder, quickly recovering from the wave of pleasure upon entering me. “Come again?” he teased, digging his fingers into my hips as he slowly stroked further into me with each thrust. 

My breath hitched, holding back a cry of rapture as I moved to meet every pump of his cock—I couldn’t believe how much I had missed this. “Rome,” I cried, placing one hand over his. “A-Aah—”

“Shh,” Roman pressed soft kisses against my neck, bucking into me. “Not so loud, baby… Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?”

Crap— I had to force myself to be aware of my surroundings. It suddenly hit me that we were fucking in Letha’s bathroom, and how we definitely didn’t want to be caught in here; no one would ever let me live that down. So I bit down on my bottom lip, letting my lids fall heavy over my eyes as Roman’s cock stroked into me, the angle allowing him to brush against my sweet spot over and over.

It didn’t take long before I started to feel on the brink of delirium—it certainly didn’t help my state when Roman reached around my body, rubbing my clit with the rhythm of his thrusts. I couldn’t help but turn a bit, reaching forward to tug his brown hair, a satisfaction building deep inside of me as I heard him suppress a moan against my shoulder. 

It didn’t take long before Roman’s lips came crashing against mine in a passionate kiss, which soon enough ended up with the both of us panting against one another, chasing our highs. 

“You feel—Fuck, you feel so, so—” Roman let out a grunt as my walls clenched around him, his green eyes rolling back just slightly. 

The sight of that alone nearly sent me over the edge, but it was the sweet kiss he pressed against my temples that did it for me. That, along with the continuous thrusts of Roman’s cock and the firm circles against my clit, made me cry out against the door. 

The physical motions of my orgasm gripped around Roman’s girth, drawing forth a moan as he spilled into me, the warmth of his cum almost instantaneously seeping out of me. 

As our panting filled the room, it dawned on me that I had done the exact opposite of what I had told myself tonight. With that realization, I couldn’t help but break our moment of rapture with a giggle—“We’re so doing this again,” 

Roman smiled as he leaned down, leaving a trail of eager kisses along my shoulder; “We so are,”

[themotherofhorses]

you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me)

summary: to you, he is fictional. but to him, you are everything and more. he can't live without you. and, really, there is no use in trying to run away, he'll always find you.

pairing: (somewhat) dark!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. noncon to dubcon. abduction. massive obsessive tendencies on aemond's part. breeding kink. slight spitting kink. pregnancy.

note: hey this is me practicing writing smut because ive never ever done it before and i don't know jackshit like wtf is a dick hahaha im dreading posting this hahahasendhelpplshaha

masterlist | series masterlist

part two | part three | part four | part five

How did you end up here?

That was all you could ask yourself, over and over again.

It had only been hours ago, maybe, that you were sitting at home, rewatching the first season of House of the Dragon for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Perhaps you dozed off on the couch too, but that was it. You have heard of shifting techniques before- ways to visit your favorite fictional worlds- but you never sought to try them out yourself.

College left you too busy with assignments and textbook readings, as well as the constant and unwavering pressure to maintain both your scholarships and high GPA.

Ever the dutiful and driven daughter, hungry for academic validation and success.

Oh, fuck, your scholarships!

Your GPA!

All those assignments and discussions and exams!

And what about your family? Your mother and father? And your best friend?

Aemond Targaryen seems not to understand your words, and why you tell, beg, and plead for him to let you go. “Please, I need to go home,” you cry loudly, while yanking at the thick knots that bound you to his bedframe, “please! My family, my friends. They will be worrying when they don’t hear from me, and all my hard work and accomplishments, it will be for nothing! Please, I beg you, let me go home.”

But he just chuckles and kisses your forehead and says, “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m your family now. Or what is of it.” His lips feel so soft and wonderful, and how desperately you wish to enjoy the feeling. But not like this. You cannot think properly nor muster any sort of response, too distracted and stressed and focused on calming your breathing.

“Although,” he then adds with a smirk, “it truly is not considered a family until you have a babe of your own…or two.”

At his words, you tremble and whimper and try your best to break free, though it is all in stupid and foolish vain. There is no going anywhere, the knots are too tight and Aemond can easily overpower you. All you can do is stare up at the man you once considered your favorite character in the series, ever since the eighth episode aired and he stole your heart and soul and burrowed himself deep within your most inner thoughts and fixation.

“Do not worry,” he says, and you can see a twinkle in the violet of his eye. He rests a hand on your collarbone, gently drawing little shapes across the skin. “Good things will come out of this night, my love, I promise you that.”

Look on the bright side, you tell yourself, in some dumb attempt to steel your nerves, better Aemond Targaryen to lose your virginity to.

“You need to be quieter, my darling-” Aemond murmurs close to your ear “-we do not need curious ears listening in, do we?” He has you riding him, both hands clutching your hips as you do your best to bounce on his cock and match his thrusts. You’re sloppy and inexperienced, and a bit confused on what exactly to do, but it is so endearing that his lips curl into a grin.

Oh, you were made for me, he thinks, watching the way your glazed-over eyes try to hold his gaze. He will have you believe that by the end of the night, dawning if necessary.

There is much rush now that he found you, now that he has the chance to claim you.

You still moan, loud and high-pitched, and he slaps a hand flat over your mouth to shut you up. It makes your pretty and teary eyes widen more as you grab at his wrist, holding onto it while he tuts. “I’ll move my hand when you learn to listen to your husband and stay quiet. No one is allowed to hear my wife in her pleasure. No one but I.” At that, you bat your eyelashes at him, breasts heaving as he leans you down, so close your lips nearly touch, and Aemond can feel your heavy pants against his mouth.

“They will take you away from me, and ship you far across the world where I can’t find you,” he hisses, pinching your swollen nipple between his fingers, “I can’t have that. No, no, do you hear me? I will not survive being torn from you.”

The mere thought of losing you, either at the hands of his mother and grandsire or you returning to your homeland, fills him with sheer dread.

He does not know how to tell you that you are the girl of his dreams, everything he has desired and more. He has seen you in his nighttime slumbers and in the gleam of the summer sunlight and up among the black midnight stars.

But the words fall apart on his tongue, and all he can do is lay beneath you and marvel at your beauty: cheekbones and pretty puffy lips and the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows furrow in pure pleasure, and how you look utterly delicious and ruined.

“You were made for me,” he breathes in awe, palming at both your breasts. You have to believe him, this sweet and pretty girl of his, how could you not? The gods above created you for him, he will make you see it. “You are taking me so fucking well,” and Aemond flattens a palm against your belly, where he can feel the slight bulge of his cock. “Look at you, you’re my dream come true.” He thrusts his hips up, fucking into you harder and deeper. It makes you squeal and go cross-eyed.

“Is this too much? I know you can handle it, my darling. My love, my sweet girl,” he purrs.

Aemond swipes at the drool pooling at your lips before stuffing two fingers in. “Fuck,” he whines, breathing hard, slipping his other hand in between your thighs, and with his thumb, rubbing at your clit. Your face twists in a gasp as you tremble, your entire body tightening until you cream over his cock, your loud moan muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he hums, slowing his thrusts, “Such a good fucking girl. Look at that, did that feel good, my love?” he asks you.

You nod, rocking your hips back and forth. Your thighs shaking and your face scrunching in complete bliss as you start again, taking his cock deep in your stomach with tiny bounces. “Please- please- please-” you babble against his palm. “I-I want- I need-”

“Want what, my sweet girl? Need what, my darling wife?”

You don’t answer, too overtaken by the pleasure. Aemond chuckles and leans upwards, to bury his face between your breasts. You are absolutely stunning, gorgeous, a living goddess; how he went this long without you is baffling. “You wish for my seed. Is that what you want?” he mutters against your nipple, “of course you do, this belly is too empty, isn’t it? My son should be sleeping inside.” His fingers pinch your clit, and you gasp again. “You’ll be the prettiest mother. You were made to carry my children. You were made for me,” and he pulls your face back to his, with a rough grip on your chin.

“Tell me,” he demands through a pant, “tell me how fucking badly you need my seed. Tell me…tell me right now.”

“I- I need it-“ you choke out, but then you shake your head. “No- No I can’t! I- I need to go- go home!”

Aemond laughs, so hard he flings his head back. The sight takes you by surprise before he shoves you off, causing you to land next to him on the bed. You stare up at him, wide eyed and puzzled and swollen and covered in countless bites and bruises. In one swing, he forces your face into the pillow as he mounts you from behind, fucking you hard. His fingers return to your clit, squeezing and tweaking and not caring one bit about your muffled yelps and whines

“You’ll learn, my sweet girl, but perhaps not tonight. I am your home now, do you understand? I’m your family, your husband, and the father to your children.”

He grabs a fistful of damp hair and yanks your face back, never once slowing his thrusts. Your mouth is open with many moans spilling out, eyes clouded with tears, and cheeks flushed. With his lips next to your ear, he whispers, “You are going nowhere.” Then propping himself on one arm, he trails small kisses up your back to your shoulder blade until his mouth slams down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss.

And when he pulls away, his fingertips squeeze your cheeks together as he demands for you to open your mouth. "You are mine," he grunts, "you belong to me," before spitting into it. "Good, now swallow."

And when you do, he smiles.

"There, see?" he coos, leaning to kiss your forehead as he feels you tighten around his cock. He was going to seed you again, deep inside your womb. Come the morning, he knows his son will be in there, and he can hardly wait.

"My wife, my darling girl, the only woman deserving of me and all of me. Only me." He watches you sob at that, pink lips pressing in a tight line as fat tears streak down both cheeks. "Oh, do not worry, my love. You're too lovely to be crying," and he uses his thumb to brush away the tears, "I'm here to give you the life you deserve," he vows, so lovingly, "you will want for nothing."

With a loud huff, you plop yourself on the couch.

The saying “home sweet home” never felt more sincere until now. It took much time and planning and effort and sneaking around on your part, but you managed to find a way to escape from Aemond Targaryen, though not without consequences. Your belly was growing only larger with every new moon, and your babe was starting to shift around more. At most times, you could feel the fluttering sensation across the bottom of your tummy, and every now and then, the tiniest kick.

It was adorable, you admitted, and you tried your best to find enjoyment throughout the pregnancy, sometimes wondering at night about who your child would resemble.

Would their looks favor yours? Or would they favor their father, with his Valyrian features- that iconic silver hair and violet eyes. The latter worried you the most. How could you even begin to explain why your child looked as if they belonged in the Game of Thrones series, specifically in House Targaryen?

Speaking of such, you had not touched House of the Dragon since you arrived back home all those months ago, too unwilling to turn on the tv and see the man whose child you were mysteriously carrying in your womb. It just did not make any sense, it felt more like a weird dream than reality.

But you were dying of boredom. The dragonling (you had taken to nicknaming the baby that, it sounded both cute and appropriate) was stealing away most of your time and energy, and your mother refused to allow you to do anything that could cause harm or add more unnecessary stress.

So you bit your tongue and swallowed down your grumbles and settled comfortably on the couch before opening Fire and Blood.

“Fucking crazy to think that this is a book of your family’s history,” you mumbled to your baby bump, “fictional my ass.”

So you read, to yourself and to your babe. Read about Aegon’s Conquest and the Year of the Three Brides and King Jaehaerys and his Alysanne and their triumphs and tragedies and legacy, and you read until you reached The Dying of the Dragons, the Blacks and the Greens, where you just sighed.

“And when Alicent sent for her second son to fly to Storm’s End, with the purpose of securing Borros Baratheon’s loyalty to Aegon II by winning the hand of one of his daughters, the Four Storms, the truth was finally known. One-eyed Prince Aemond, twenty and one, had taken a wife of his own in secret, a young maiden not of Westeros (according to Mushroom). Yet Prince Aemond lost her a month into their marriage, although by that time he had become so besotted with his bride, to such an extent that he could not bear the thought of living without her or taking another woman as his new wife.

With Prince Aemond refusing his mother’s orders, Queen Alicent had little choice but to send her youngest, Prince Daeron, in his place to Storm’s End. And by the seventh month, Prince Daeron wedded Floris Baratheon, and Prince Aemond One-Eye had reunited with his wife, who was heavy with child by the time he found her.”

You suddenly glance up from the book pages, feeling your heart hammering so hard in your chest that it seems at the end of your throat. On the wall, to your right, hung the calendar which you had taken to use as a means of tracking your pregnancy.

In two weeks, you’ll be at your seventh-month mark.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

All I had - Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Requested: No well I lowkey did

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: After his girlfriend y/n is killed, Mattheo has to deal not only with pain and sorrow, but also cruel accusations (complete original prompt here)

Word count: long as hell 2.4K

Warnings: mentions of death, lost, and grief

A/N: When I had this idea a few weeks ago I didn't think it would actually be so hard to write and I hate it lol :) I can't remember for the life of me if people in universe know Voldemort wants to be immortal, so for this one be an angel and pretend they do :) Might write a part two with a certain someone if many people ask 👀. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Hogwarts, 1997.

The two Aurors were walking right behind him, firmly holding his arms to prevent him from running. Run where? he thought. Not that he had somewhere to go. Snape, who had always looked at Mattheo and his brother with an annoying suspicion, was walking ahead of them, his robes floating behind him. Mattheo didn’t know where they were going, or why. Not that he actually cared. Even though the Auros were leading his movements, his legs still seemed to be carrying him on their own, and if he didn’t try to resist, protest or at least ask questions to the silent Aurors, it was only because he didn’t have any energy or will to do so. Everything, including his body, felt numb and his mind was clouded, not functioning properly at all, barely noticing or hearing what was happening around him, instead full of the events of the night, as if it was trying to look for a reason. The only thing he could feel was the grip of the Aurors on his upper arms, the painful dryness of his blurry eyes, his throat sore from crying, his still wet cheeks, and this feeling of unbearable pain, anguish and confusion inside his chest.

After walking through countless corridors, they finally arrived in a smaller corridor, where Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were apparently expecting them. It often came as a surprise to those who didn’t know, but Mattheo actually held great respect for the old headmaster. How could he not? He was the only person his father had ever feared. Dumbledore was still the same as usual, looking calm and serene, while McGonagall looked at Mattheo with what seemed to be sadness. As they came closer, Mattheo saw a simple gray door on the right, which suddenly opened. 

“Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore said with a calm, almost kind voice, and Mattheo only raised his eyes towards him for a quarter of a second before looking at the ground again, “I will have to ask you to sleep here tonight. If you are in need of anything, please feel free to ring the bell. But I assure you, everything will be alright.”

‘Alright’? Mattheo would have laughed if he could. Behind him, the Auror snigged. Mattheo didn’t speak a word, and when he turned to pass the door, he saw Snape give him a more suspicious look than before. He managed to enter the room, which was a rudimentary bedroom with a bed, two chairs around a small rounded table with a small golden bell on it, and a sink. No window whatsoever, only a few candles floating in the air and drawing shadows on the walls. 

“If you wish to turn the candles off, just ask them to sleep,” Dumbledore told him.

“We will be back in the morning,” one of the Aurors told the Headmaster, and then the door closed abruptly, leaving Mattheo completely alone with his thoughts and the cold silence of a cold room. 

After a long, boring day of classes, he had spent the evening in y/n’s dorm, talking and cuddling, enjoying the comfort and peace only her could make him feel. Then Theo texted him, asking him if he fancied a smoke. Mattheo initially wanted to refuse, not wanting to leave y/n’s embrace, but she told him to go, that she didn’t want to keep him away from his friends. And so Mattheo went, going to one of the darkest corners of the castle where he and Theo knew they wouldn’t be caught by any professors and especially Filch. But the smoke break lasted much longer than usual, and when Mattheo went back to y/n’s dorm, planning on continuing their night together and eventually falling asleep with her in his arms, he walked by the castle’s courtyard and, in the dark of the night, saw something strange on the courtyard’s ground. Frowning, he had hesitated before slowly walking towards it, curiosity leading his mind. The closer he got, the more the strange “thing” on the ground, the clearer the mass on the ground got, and soon it appeared to be a body. Despite the fear that it might be someone he knew, Mattheo had quickened his pace, and barely a few meters later, he recognized whose body it was.

Oh, God. No, no, please, no. Not this. Anything but this.

At the second he recognized y/n’s body, he ran towards it and fell beside her, immediately holding her to his chest, gently shaking her despite his panic which grew every quarter of a second. 

“y/n?! y/n, can you hear me? Baby?” 

But he didn’t get any answer, and when he checked her pulse, he had almost felt his heart break from the pain. 

“No, no, no, y/n, please! Fuck!”

Tears had started to feel, and he was now screaming. He didn’t know how long he spent here, holding her body as tight as he could, crying like he never thought he ever would and begging her to come back, to not leave him alone, but at one point, someone had seen him, had a loud gasp, and had ran to tell someone. Soon, Professor McGonnagall and two Aurors were here, and they tried to take her from him. He screamed and protested, not wanting to let her go, but they managed to separate them, and Mattheo was then led there, his entire being shattered in pieces and his mind unable to work knowing she was gone. 

Not caring to take off his shoes, Mattheo laid on the bed, and tears started to run down his cheeks. She’s gone, she’s gone, his mind kept screaming, and yet, it refused to accept it.

This is just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. I’m gonna wake up soon. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink or eat, Mr Riddle? Professor Dumbledore insisted.” 

Mattheo barely looked at the Auror sitting on the other side of the metallic table, and kept silent. He could hardly keep his eyes open, too tired from not sleeping at all the night before - and yet not feeling sleepy at all. 

“Well,” the Auror continued, putting a long, thin black bow on the table. “I guess we can start, then. Mr Riddle, do you know why you’re here?” 

Mattheo shook his head. 

“Really?” the other Auror asked, sitting next to his colleague. “No clue? At all?” 

This time, Mattheo raised his eyes towards the two men for a few seconds, and tried not to find weird the way they were looking at him - with disdain, coldness, and something he couldn’t quite get yet - as, after all, a lot of people looked at the son of the Dark Lord with suspicious - Snape included - or even fear, and he got used to it. Why would their eyes matter, when y/n’s eyes looked at him with nothing but love?

And now I won’t ever see them again. Mattheo felt his eyes becoming watery, and tried to fight tears as much as he could. 

“Because y/n is gone,” he said, looking at the table. 

“You’re right,” the Auror on the left said. “But allow me to be more precise, Mr Riddle. Miss y/l/n is gone… because you killed her.”

Mattheo’s mind, still as cloudy as the night before, suddenly cleared up like and working like a machine being turned on. He looked at the two men, and suddenly understood the reason they had been looking at him like that ever since they came into the room a few minutes earlier. They think I’m guilty. 

This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare. This isn’t real. I’ll wake up any moment and see her sleeping next to me. 

Shock, anger, and a bit of panic and confusion came into him like a gigantic wave. “What? I didn’t kill her! Why the hell would I kill her?” 

This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare.

“Oh, you would be surprised at all the reasons why a man could kill his girlfriend. She caught him cheating, he caught her cheating, she saw something she shouldn’t have seen…” the Auror stopped, and looked at Mattheo with malice. “Or maybe he wants to prove himself to his father.”

If he could, Mattheo would have laughed. Here it is. The “son of the Dark Lord” bullshit. He ran his hand through his hair, and sighed.

“You think I killed y/n because my father asked me?” he asked, trying his absolute best to remain calm. “Why would I have accepted?” 

“Well, you’re the second son. The spare. Your father likely planned for your brother Tom to be his second in command, and, if he were to die, his heir, didn’t he? And then, what do you have left, Mr Riddle? At best, you remain the spare and then your brother’s second in command your whole life, and in the worst case… Nothing.” 

y/n. I would have y/n. 

“Dumbledore told us your father tried to contact you last summer,” the second Auror spoke. 

Mattheo felt annoyance growing inside of him, “and did he also tell you that I refused, and hid from him the whole time?” 

“Yes,” the first Auror admitted. “He did say you told him that. But how can we be sure you didn’t lie?” 

Mattheo closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“So, you guys think I’m a murderer just because my father is? For no other reason than that?”

“Actually, Mr. Riddle, the main reason we do believe that, is because…of that.”

The Auror took the long, thin black bow he had put earlier on the table, and opened it before showing the inside to Mattheo, whose eyes opened in surprise. 

“My wand?” 

“Yes, Mr Riddle, we-”

“I lost it,” Mattheo interrupted with a louder voice, feeling his heart beat faster, “I lost it yesterday sometime after class. Where did you find it?!”

“You lost it?” the Auror asked while crossing his arms, sounding amused, “Well, did you tell anyone? Any teachers?”

“I went to tell Professor Snape,” Mattheo answered, “but he wasn’t in his office. I waited for him for almost an hour but he never came back. My friend Lorenzo saw me, I asked him if he knew where Snape was.”

The Auror shared a look that told Mattheo they already knew Lorenzo had seen him - and yet didn’t believe him.

“Now,” Mattheo continued, more annoyed by the second, “where did you find my wand?” 

“Why, near you, Mr Riddle. When we found you near your victim’s corpse,” the second Auror said as if it was obvious.

The dark-haired boy stared at them in disbelief. “What? No, you’re…You’re lying.”

“And when we used Prior Incantato, we saw that the last spell your wand used was the killing curse.”

“That’s why he brought you here, Mr Riddle”, the second Auror continued immediately. “If we didn’t find your wand near you, our theory wouldn’t be based on anything. We might even have believed you when you’re telling us you didn’t kill miss y/l/n.” 

“I did not kill her!” Mattheo screamed. 

The Auror sighed, “Mr Riddle, please. Out of respect for miss y/l/n and her family, do tell us the truth. They deserve justice.”

“You’re lucky, you know?” the second Auror went on, “If it wasn’t for Professor Dumbledore, you’d be in Azkaban, awaiting your trial.” 

“I’m innocent!” Mattheo yelled, feeling himself going mad. “I told you the truth!”

“Alright,” the Auror said with a loud voice, putting a clenched fist on the table. “If you didn’t do it, then who did?” 

“How would I know?” Mattheo snapped. “I found her body in the courtyard, and I didn’t see anybody else.”

“See? You can’t give us a second option. Our talks with teachers and students told us Miss y/l/n had no enemies, was loved by both classmates and teachers alike, and her parents are good people. No one had a reason to kill her, except for you.”

“We don’t need to know the reasons on why you did it, Mr Riddle,” the first Auror said in an almost kinder, more patient tone. “Even though we have some ideas about the ‘why’. Just admit you did it.”

“Admit you did it because either your father asked you to do it, or because, despite your best efforts to make people believe you’re different from him, the truth is, you’re just like him.”

“I didn’t do it!” Mattheo screamed. “How many do I have to tell you?! I didn’t kill y/n! Someone must have taken my wand and killed her! How can you not see that?!” 

The first Auror sighed, meanwhile the second clenched his jaw. 

“Mr Riddle, y/n-”

“DO NOT USE HER NAME!” Mattheo shrieked. 

But the Auror ignored him, closing his eyes for a second, “y/n had a family, friends, people who loved her, and a whole life with a bright future ahead of her.”

Yes. And all I had was her.

“You took enough from her. Do you take away from her grieving parents the satisfaction that their daughter’s killer is not in prison, paying for his crime.”

Mattheo put his face in his hands, feeling tears burn his eyes. 

“I want to see my brother.” 

“Your brother?” the first Auror asked, and this time he sounded genuinely surprised.   

“Well,” Mattheo spat, raising back his head to stare at the two men, “someone should find y/n’s killer if I’m going to be in Azkaban soon, don’t you think?”

“So you admit it? You killed her?”

“No! For fuck’s sake, no I didn’t kill fucking kill her!” 

They didn’t understand, Mattheo thought with desperation and frustration, putting his head back in his hands. Mattheo couldn’t even remember how life was before he fell in love with y/n during their third year. All he remembered is that two years ago, in their fifth year here, he finally gathered the courage to let her know how he felt, and, by some miracle, this beautiful, sweet witch with a heart of gold felt the same way about him. Ever since, all that was inside his mind was y/n, how his heart, life and soul belonged to her and her only, how she was the only one to not see him as Voldemort’s son but how he really was instead, how she was always there for him, especially when he started feeling anxious when his father came back after the Triwizard Tournament, and how their kisses, their hugs and cuddles and sleeping with her in his arms were the most important things to him. And now, he had lost it all. 

The two Aurors suddenly rose from their chairs, and left the room, leaving Mattheo alone with his broken heart and nonfunctioning mind. 

This is a nightmare, this is a nightmare.

PART 2

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[cripplecharacters]

Hi there, i have a character in my original story who is blind, specifically because he lost both eyes (one from injury, one from infection at birth). However, he doesn't have access to prosthetic/glass eyes as he lives in a secluded group of warriors. I've been drawing him with a blindfold to protect from infection, but upon reading your posts about eye coverings on blind characters, i'm unsure if this is offensive or not, but i also can't think of a good alternative other than going bare. He is a warrior, so i don't think glasses would stay on for very long, but i'm wondering if maybe goggles would work? Hes not the only blind character i have (one of the others is a born-blind cane user who does not wear glasses) but i still don't want to misrepresent or spread misinformation. Any help would be appreciated, thanks

Hello!

@blindbeta has an excellent post on the subject, which I'll link here [Link].

In your character's case, the cover would serve more for protecting their eyes and less for photophobia or other sensitivities. One of the points that's mentioned heavily in the post is to ask why your character is using a cover for their eyes.

In this case, you've already answered that question. Your character needs to protect their eyes from infection and further damage but doesn't have the option of prosthetics and glasses are inconvenient and could fall off or get in the way.

That being said... wouldn't a blindfold also get in the way?

A blindfold would be more of a problem in combat than a pair of glasses with a strap securing them. A blindfold gives his opponent another way to grab onto him (Think of ponytails) or something else to get caught on.

Also, if the goal is preventing infection, a blindfold would do the opposite here. Fabric is notorious for encouraging the growth of bacteria, fungi, and other microorganisms. When it's pressed up against your character's eye sockets while they're fighting and sweating, it's also creating a very humid and moist environment.

Back when I was still rock-climbing and would go blindfolded, the blindfold would become gross and sweaty after just a few rounds. I don't even want to think about how it would have been after a day of fighting and adding in the blood and other fluids that would be on it. This can be especially problematic if your character is living in a secluded place where he may not be able to properly wash the blindfold as often as needed.

In general, the goggles (Or a pair of secured glasses) may be a better way to go. They'd be less of a liability in combat and be much more effective at preventing infection than a blindfold would be. There's also the fact that they would be much easier to clean if it ends up being necessary.

Now, you didn't specifically ask about this but I would just like to point out that prosthetic eyes aren't just used for preventing infection. Prosthetic eyes allow you to maintain the function of your eyelid and ensures that your eye socket keeps its shape. Depending on your character's circumstances, this may or may not be a concern for them.

Regardless, I'd definitely suggest looking into this and giving it some thought if you haven't.

Here's a few links to get you started:

A brief article discussing the benefits of prosthetic eyes.

An article that talks about prosthetic eyes in general. It also includes some brief information on prosthetic eyes in the past, which may be of interest to you.

Some FAQs about prosthetic eyes. Most of this is more specific to the current prosthetics offered but has some general info as well.

If you haven't done so already, I'd also advise checking out the linked post from @blindbeta since it has some excellent information about the specific trope.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icaus