#Haunted Series

[synamartia]

[ Featured Artwork © lustylita ] ❀ [ Featured Divider © cafekitsune ]

[ Story © synamartia ] ❀ [ Text banner created via TextStudio ]

Content Warnings: Alastor x Reader ; Afab!Reader ; No pronouns or Y/N used ; Use of gendered pet names like "good/dirty girl" ; Explicit / MDNI / 18+ ; Sexual situations ; Sex pollen trope (Love Potion) ; Oral (m + f receiving) ; Spanking ; Dirty talk ; Praise kink ; Dom!Alastor ; Dacryphilia ; If I missed any, let me know! Word Count: 6,183 Summoning: @hazelfoureyes ; @minkdelovely ; @sugoi-writes ; @fraugwinska ; @lustylita Author's Notes: Ya'll ready for this? don't lie now Alastor's dialogue will be in bold red, thoughts in italics red, and Reader's will be in blue. Tagging my darling moots and the lovely Kat for allowing me to use her art for a series banner~! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list, let me know via ask! And thank you again to Mink and Danny for helping me nail down Alastor's dialogue! You're the best! ❤

You weren't sure how you ended up here - bent over the large desk in Alastor's bedroom, but you weren't particularly worried about the circumstances surrounding your... situation. You could vaguely recall speaking with the Radio Demon about an issue regarding one of the many drug stashes belonging to Angel and what exactly each piece of paraphernalia could be - specifically, what the small spray bottle filled with a pink liquid might have been. Had you known it was an aerosolized product of Love Potion by the Vees, you never would have sprayed it on Alastor - having mistaken it for one of Angel's various colognes.

At first, the man who towered over not only you, but the entirety of the hotel staff had been upset with you, ready to give you a proper tongue-lashing for your carelessness. However, that was before the potion took effect- his original intentions went right out the window the moment it did. You had to hand it to the Vees; it only took 7.8 seconds for Alastor's pupils to dilate and his ears to flatten against his head as the drug took hold of his senses. Alastor barely held on to his sanity the second the drug went into effect - it took every single fiber of his being, every ounce of self-control to stop himself from tearing at your clothes and having his way with you right then and there. Had it not been for the distant murmurs and subtle hisses at the nearby bar, he would have. But he wouldn't subject you to such ignominy, no matter how inebriated by that god-awful concoction he was. Alastor was, first and foremost, a gentleman.

Alastor leaned in close - his face mere inches from yours, a frenzied look in his half-lidded eyes as he inhaled the distinctive spicy aroma that your minty toothpaste had given your breath. He'd rather not waste any time talking, but the one thing that horrible, awful, wonderful drug couldn't override in his brain was the innate, inherent need for consent in such acts. He could only hope you would have some mercy on the few remaining ribbons of his tattered soul and provide him with the only word he wanted to hear - yes. "I- ... I'm so sorry, Alastor- ... S-sir! I mean, M- ... Mister Alastor! I thought it was just a... a cologne..." You started - at first mistaking the look of lust in his eyes for one of malicious and sadistic intent. You had heard the rumors (who hadn't?). So when you noticed his wraithlike shadows swirling around your form and felt one of his tentacles wrap around both of your ankles, you immediately thought that you were about to be the next voice heard on his radio broadcast.

"It seems this... cologne..." you heard his voice ring out as your world went black for a few moments - the caliginous haze having engulfed both of your forms. You felt a slight breeze with how fast the darkness transported Alastor and you from the foyer up the grand flight of stairs and down the halls. At first, you had assumed he was taking you to his studio to broadcast your screams of agony for all of hell to hear. However, you were pleasantly surprised when the smoky substance dissipated, and you found yourself in the safe confines of Alastor's bedroom. "... is an aphrodisiac so potent that it's affecting even me," he said, having remained in the same bent position as he began to size you up.

"I- ... I know. I realized too late," your voice trembled as you stared back at him, fidgeting with your nails nervously. "I'm so sorry, Alastor - I'll be more caref- ...?!" The deer demon pressed a singular clawed digit against your lips to prevent you from any further stammering, shushing you as his eyes traveled down to the valley between your breasts.

"If you're truly apologetic, why don't you show me, hm?" he asked you smugly, pointed teeth parting for a moment to pull his bottom lip between them. He bit down lightly, waiting for your consent as patiently as he could manage. He refused to touch you any further until you had given him the go-ahead; he was a demon, sure - a pretty damn bad one, at that. But this was one thing he would never forego. "Will you help me through this high? After all, you are the one at fault here." You could've sworn your head was about to explode from all the blood rushing to your cheeks at that exact moment. Did he just ask you that? There's no way Alastor - one of the most feared Overlords to have ever walked the scorched wasteland of hell in recent memory; the one that broadcasts the screams of the souls that he eviscerates and atomizes for miniscule slights; the demon that has made friends with an entire town of cannibals (except one - ugh, Susan) and has brunch with their Overlord every Thursday; the man that is unapologetically contumelious and has brazenly challenged the king of hell; THE GODDAMN RADIO DEMON - is shamelessly asking if you would let him fuck you... right?

This had to be dream or an illusion of some sort. Yeah, that had to be it. But, in all honesty, it would be a lie if you said you hadn't thought about any of this - about how his lips tasted; what his nails would feel like being raked up and down your back; how far down your throat you could take him; the sweet, sweet sting of his cock stretching your walls open; or what it would feel like to have rope after rope of his hot seed spurting inside you during his climax. You wondered if he was vocal during sex, and what he would sound like while he chased that rarely sought-after release. Would it just be whimpers and sighs, or would he say the filthiest of words while he rammed his shaft into you with reckless abandon? You assumed the latter since Alastor loved to talk; to hear himself talk - you hoped he would whisper all the ways he wanted to defile you right before doing just that.

Alastor tugged your bottom lip down to reveal your bottom row of teeth as you stared at him in both bewilderment and awe, your brain struggling to process this whole exchange. After a few more moments of silence passed, you shifted your gaze down his torso to the already prominent, still-growing tent within his trousers. Using the same clawed hand that had pulled down your lip, Alastor lifted your chin so that you were forced to look him in the eye.

"Do you want this? I need an answer, Mon Ami. Now."

Having been pulled out of your dazed imagination, you took one more moment to compose yourself before responding. With a frantic nod of agreement, you threw caution to the wind as Alastor's eyes took on a subtle glow, causing your heart to race at from just the idea of sleeping with him.

C'est la vie, right?

He didn't allow you much time to think after that, immediately leaning down so that he could wrap his hands around the backsides of your thighs and hoist you up so that you were at eye-level with him. With a couple long strides, you found yourself being set down on the desk. Easing your legs apart as gently as he could, Alastor stepped between them and brought his hands up to the button-down shirt you wore, the fine layer of sweat resulting from your earlier fear of disembowelment causing patches of the white fabric to become translucent. In one swift motion, all the buttons went flying across the room as he ripped it open, exposing the black lace bra you wore beneath it. He looked like a man starved by the way his predatory gaze traveled over your half-nude form.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you still struggled to make sense of everything that's happened so far, the anticipation of whatever else may come consuming you. Hands shaking and breath rapid, you nervously brought your hands to the black bow tie wrapped beneath the lapels of his crimson dress shirt, your trembling fingers having difficulty in undoing the knot at first. You noticed the subtle flinch and how Alastor tensed when you finally managed to get the tie undone, quickly moving your hands south to undo the buttons of his suit jacket. Inebriated or not, Alastor still struggled with any physical contact that wasn't strictly on his terms. In an attempt to ease his discomfort, you pulled your hands away and looked him in the eye. "Is it okay if I touch you?" you asked him. A moment passed, and then another; then he nodded his head, granting you permission to slide his coat off his shoulders and down his arms to fall to the floor.

Eyes locked with his, you could tell he was still a little tense; so, you took things a bit further in the hopes of calming his nerves. "I'm going to unbutton your shirt now. Is that okay?" you announced, awaiting his approval once more before you continued to undress him. With another nod, Alastor let out a barely audible sigh when he felt a sudden rush of cool air on his torso a few seconds later - his shirt now being untucked and fully unbuttoned. You took a moment to take in this rare sight: Alastor's clothes disheveled and chest bare, eyes frenzied as he began to relax into your touch little by little. The tips of your fingers traced the outlines of his toned pecs down the center line of his abs and along the few tufts of cherry red hair that were the beginnings of a happy trail (fuck, now you owed $10 to Angel) - and then back up again to his broad shoulders. Alastor practically ripped the cufflinks from his wrists, a shiver running up his spine as you moved your hands past the lapels of his shirt, pushing the fabric off in the same manner as his suit coat.

With his upper garments now pooled at his feet, Alastor let one of his arms wrap around your waist and pull you to the edge of his desk - his groin coming into contact with yours. You held his gaze as one of your hands came up to wrap around the back of his neck, your other going behind you to help support your weight as you began to shallowly roll your hips against his clothed length. A soft moan escaped your throat at the friction you created, causing Alastor's muscles to tense, his spine going rigid beneath your touch. "... Do that again," he commanded you, his cock twitching within the painfully restricting confines of his trousers. He hadn't expected such a simple noise to have this profound of an effect on him physically. "Make that noise again," he rasped, pushing his hips further into you as his other hand pushed your pencil skirt up to reveal your undergarments.

"Hhhmmm... Alastor," you obliged, adding his name in a husky whisper as you rolled your hips against his once more. Alastor growled in response just before crashing his lips down on yours, swallowing the moans that were pouring from your throat. How has he never noticed the ethereal way his name sounded rolling off your tongue until now? He wondered what it would sound like being screamed so loud, that dick Lucifer could hear it all the way up on his 'holier than thou' high horse throne. You inhaled sharply through your nose as you felt a claw tug and then eventually tear at your matching black lace panties (he was SO buying you a new set; this was your favorite pair, damn it!), your skirt now bunched up at your waist, leaning your lower half completely bare.

Breaking the kiss, you pulled back just enough to see Alastor's face - eyes half-lidded, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, a thin layer of sweat accumulating on his face and torso from the prolonged proximity. "Alastor..." you whispered his name again and his cock twitched again against the now much too uncomfortable fabric. You moved to sit up straight, bringing both of your hands to the buckle of his belt, stilling them as you opened your mouth to ask if he would let you continue. Before you could even form the question, Alastor was already granting you permission to free it from the agonizing confines of his pants with a feverishly desperate nod; his free hand maneuvering between your bodies to stroke a solitary digit through your folds. "My, my," he chuckled, voice teasing as he pushed his finger past the first ring of muscle of your embarrassingly slick entrance. "We've only just started, and you're already this aroused?" he clicked his tongue against his teeth as he teased you, deriving pleasure and amusement from the pout you gave in response.

"Dirty girl."

"I- ... It's your fault," you chided him, throwing his earlier statement back in his face. "You're the one to blame. So, are you going to help me or not?" you asked him in a mocking tone of voice, sticking your tongue out in the process. Alastor leaned in closer to your face - pretending to go for another kiss, only to lightly sink his teeth into the tip of your tongue and pull it further out of your mouth. "A-ah!" you yelped in surprise just before he wrapped his lips around the already sore muscle, sucking gently to ease the pain for a few moments. When he pulled away, he gave you a playful wink just before adding a second digit to your heated core. "I suppose I could help you," Alastor teased you right back, slowly pumping his digits in and out, careful not to hurt you with the sharpened edges of his nails.

"... But I want to hear you beg for it first."

Before you could react, Alastor pulled himself free of you and yanked you to your feet; spinning you around and forcing you to bend over the edge of his desk with his slender fingers wrapped around the back of your neck - keeping you in place. He used his other hand to wrangle both of yours, holding them together at the wrist and pressing them into the small of your back as he kicked your feet apart.

So now, here you were - bent over the smooth surface of his desk; trapped, exposed, and completely helpless.

"Come now, Mon Cher. Let me hear you beg me to fuck you," Alastor commanded you, releasing your neck and bringing that same hand down to spank against the bare skin of your ass. A yelp escaped your lips at the sudden sting of his palm striking your rear, your cheek pressed against the cool wood as you tried to angle your head just right to look back at him. Chewing on your bottom lip as you contemplated his command, you were trying to decide which route was more beneficial: compliance or defiance.

Another slap resounded throughout the room when Alastor struck your bottom again, harder this time as a warning to make up your mind quickly. Deciding that compliance would get you to that first release faster (albeit less fun), you opened your mouth to acquiesce. "P-Please!" you started, "... please, Alastor... I need you..." you whispered shyly, the words somehow making your face heat up even more. But it wasn't good enough, since Alastor smacked your ass again. "You can do better than that," he stated matter-of-factly, rubbing the palm of his hand against the reddened skin where he had struck you. Biting your lip again, you closed your eyes and tried to muster up the courage to say out loud all the thoughts running through your dirty little mind. You hoped no one was nearby to hear any of this (not that Alastor would let them live for very long if they did hear your escapades). Swallowing the saliva that was building up in your mouth, you let out a shaky breath before opening your eyes and craning your neck further back to look at Alastor again.

"Please! Please, please, PLEASE fuck me, Alastor ...! I need it so bad! I wanna feel your cock in me, please! I promise, I'll be good!" you started out, your face now rivaling Alastor's ruby hair in terms of color. "I'll be good, I swear!" you tried to wiggle your hips against his still clothed cock (having only succeeded in undoing the belt buckle and zipper before he whipped you around), only to feel another harsh slap to your ass, warning you to behave. "Please just fuck me- ...! Make me cum on your cock. I wanna cum on your cock! Alastor..." you whimpered, earning a short chuckle from him in response as he slowly began to grind against your backside, providing you with some much needed friction. "Good girl," he murmured while rubbing soothing circles on the red imprint of his hand forming on your ass cheek. Leaning over you so that his lips were right by the edge of your jaw, he let his tongue roll out and run along the length of it until he came to your ear, sharp teeth nibbling at the sensitive lobe.

"Une si bonne fille pour moi."

Alastor stood up straight once again and moved his hand between your bodies, opting to push three of his long digits into your waiting heat this time. He relished in the surprised gasp that escaped you followed by a prolonged moan, curling his fingers slightly as he started to build a pace. "A-Alasss- ...!" you tried to say his name, but the angle that his fingers were pushing in and out of you had you seeing stars even though he had just barely started, his knuckles rubbing against that one spot you always had trouble reaching with your own hand. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your walls clenching around his fingers when you felt his thumb press against your puckered hole. Letting go of your wrists, Alastor brought his now free hand down to grab at your ass and spread your cheeks apart to get a better look; he prodded gently but never pushed past the first ring of muscle. He wanted to but felt it could wait for another time - IF there was another time after this. He didn't want to push your boundaries too far for the first time around.

"Oh, fuuucckk!" you drawled out, eyes fluttering closed as that oh-so-familiar coil began to tighten in your lower abdomen. "That's it, good girl," you heard him praise you, his words causing your muscles to tense further as he pushed you closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Your hips began to roll involuntarily against his hand after a few minutes, your body automatically seeking that sweet, sweet release even faster. "Just like that, ride my fingers just like that," he whispered, the praises he was singing to you making your walls clamp down on his digits even tighter. "O-oh fuck! Ala- ... Alastor! Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum, oh my god!" you cried, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, hands holding a death grip on the edge of his desk.

When you felt Alastor shifting behind you, you opened your eyes and lifted your head slightly to see what he was doing - quickly finding him on his knees and moving in until his mouth replaced his fingers. Alastor let out a loud groan once he finally had a taste of you, tongue rolling out and through your slick folds, drinking in your essence like you were an oasis in the middle of the Sahara Desert. His left hand held your cheeks apart as Alastor licked and slurped and sucked, shaking his head back and forth against your core every few seconds. The tip of his nose tickled your other hole while he used his right hand to rub circles on your clit, his long tongue rolling over your g-spot whenver he would dip it inside you. You could feel your release coming at you like a freight train now, one of your hands shooting back to grab hold of something - his hair, his antlers, anything in an attempt to ground yourself. "Good girl!" his words were muffled as he kept his face pressed against your core, lifting your leg to rest on the desk before returning it to your clit, pressing down harshly on the bundle of nerves.

A loud groan rumbled through his chest as you squeezed the base of his antler, the action causing his cock to twitch and throb, begging to be released from its confines and satiated. "Don't stop, please don't stop!" you begged, your jaw falling open into a silent cry as your release began to crash over you like a tsunami. Alastor drank you in, slurping loudly at the fluids that dripped from your tight cunt, savoring your taste while he struggled to not blow his load before he even had a chance to get inside you. He pressed his face even further against your core, mouth open wide as he swallowed everything your body had to give him. How long had it been since he felt this thirsty - this starved for someone else's touch? Alastor couldn't remember the last time he was this aroused, this fucking hard. What the fuck did the Vees put in that troublesome potion?

As the pleasure coursing through your veins began to subside, your muscles relaxed and your grip on his antler loosened, occasionally tensing once more whenever you felt the tip of his tongue on your throbbing clit or the sharp edge of his teeth glide against your puffy lips. You lowered your head to rest on the polished surface, trying to catch your breath as Alastor pulled back from your heat - enjoying the way your pussy would clench around nothing when he lightly raked his claws over your reddened ass cheek. Picking up his forgotten shirt from before, Alastor used the fabric to wipe what was left of your release from his chin, discarding it after as he rose to his feet. "You did so well for me," he praised you, reaching to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Leaning over your slumped form he let his lips brush against your jaw, then your cheek and then your temple. "Hmm..." you hummed in response, trying not to let the fatigue take over before you could get to the main course. "Do you need a moment? Would you like to stop?" Alastor asked you, taking notice of your display of exhaustion.

Quickly, you turned your head and pushed yourself up. "No! No, I can-" you paused for a moment to stifle a yawn. The incident in the foyer that led to all of this occurred near the end of your workday, so you were fairly tired when this started. The unexpectedly hard orgasm wasn't helping any, but the promise of even more is what kept you going. Besides, you couldn't be the only one having fun here, especially since you had already agreed to help relieve him. "... I can keep going. I wanna keep going," you insisted, lowering your leg as you pushed yourself up straight, turning to face him fully now. "For you," you added, staring up at him with a look so amorous it made his breath hitch in his throat, catching him off guard. Cautiously, you raised your hands to gently cradle his face, standing on your tiptoes so you could place a soft peck on his smiling lips.

Bringing yourself back down to stand proper, you began to trace your hands down his neck and chest, not missing the way his muscles still tensed at your touch. It was going to take some time, you realized, to get him to a point where he welcomed your touch rather than shy away from it. You hoped that he would give you that time, outside of this incident that you so clumsily caused, of course. When your hands reached the waistband of his pants, you looked up at him and waited for his permission to continue - something small and near insignificant but nevertheless something he still appreciated. He would have to reward you for your thoughtfulness later. Nodding his head, Alastor watched as you slowly pushed both his trousers and briefs down past his hips to his knees, eventually falling to his ankles, his aching cock springing from its prison and slapping lightly against his lower abdomen. He looked away for a moment, unable to hide his growing discomfort with being so bare in front of another person.

Gently, you pressed on his jaw with your left hand to bring his narrowed eyes back to your face. "Hey," you called. "You can trust me, Alastor," you assured him, knowing full well that was only part of the problem. Mouth twitching, Alastor stared at you as you leaned in to place tender kisses to his chest, your eyes never once leaving his face as you sank down to your knees before him. "I promise," you spoke, voice gentle, hands tracing the defined muscles of his abs and gliding along the dips of his pelvic v. Bringing one hand up to rest on his thigh, your other gently wrapped around the base of his cock. Humming softly as you smiled up at him, you rubbed your cheek against his length, then grazed your lips over his leaking tip. "I just want to make you feel good," you continued to assure him, catching the shaky sigh he gave in response to your touches. Experimentally, you let the tip of your tongue dart past your lips and against his crying slit, his entire body tensing as one of his hands moved to tangle within your tresses.

You stared up at Alastor with such innocence in your big doe eyes - he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from forcing his cock as far down your throat as it could go. "Is that okay?" you asked after a couple more licks to his slit, savoring the salty taste of his pre dribbling out. "Will you let me make you feel good, Alastor?" you asked him so sweetly, voice dripping with honey as his name rolled off that devilish tongue of yours. You really knew how to push his buttons. With a drawn out moan vibrating through his chest and static crackling through the air, you barely had time to fully open your mouth as he pushed his hips forward and guided your head down until your nose brushed against the carmine strands at his base, his head tilting back at the long anticipated sensation finally washing over him as he breathed out a singular,

"Yes!"

Immediately, you had to fight back the urge to gag and pull away when he pushed your head down. Had it not been for his fingers laced through your hair holding you in place, you would have. You whined at the sudden intrusion, not expecting him to push so much of himself inside your mouth so quickly; his tip nearly hitting the back of your throat. Alastor tried, he truly did, to keep control and allow you some time to adjust, but the explicit desire for release was beginning to cloud his senses now that he had your lips wrapped around his dick. He gave a few shallow thrusts, trying not to go too far before you adjusted to his wide girth. After a few seconds to do just that had passed, you hummed softly as a signal that you were okay to go further now, to pick up the pace - the vibrations sending a couple unexpected shockwaves up his spine. You stared up at him, admiring the way his Adam's apple bobbed slightly when he swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Curling your tongue around his length, you pressed upward as you started to bob your head, sucking lightly and moaning every few seconds to send vibrations through his whole being. "Fuck..." you heard him whisper with each drag of your muscle on the underside of his shaft, keeping one hand wrapped around his base and squeezing lightly the part you were unable to swallow. On occasion, whenever you would pull back far enough, you would angle your head slightly so that his tip would rub against the ridges of your palate upon re-entry, causing him to inhale sharply and clench his hand, tugging on your hair each time.

You could feel his thighs tremble every time you moaned around him, sucking harshly and hollowing your cheeks, pressing your tongue up even harder to create more friction and bring him closer to his orgasm. You slurped and sucked; some drool mixed with precum beginning to froth at the corners of your mouth with each drag. "That's it, that's it," Alastor murmured as he lowered his gaze down onto you. Struggling to keep his release at bay for just a few more minutes, he nearly lost it when he saw that you were still looking up at him with those beautiful wide eyes, tears pricking at the edges and threatening to fall at any moment. "Oh, yes- ... That's my good girl, fuuuccckkk!" he breathed, relishing in the way you tried to breathe through your nose while choking on his cock.

Hearing his moans and praises were such a huge ego boost, so you decided to take it a step further by removing your hand from the base and letting it settle on the side of his thigh. Alastor let out a small grunt of disapproval at the loss of your tight grip and reached to guide your hand back, but he stopped and let his jaw fall open when you pushed yourself further down on his cock, his tip now bullying the back of your throat with each bob of your head, every thrust of his hips. He was so close after only a couple minutes of you sucking him off; he couldn't tell if it was a result of the Love Potion or not being intimate with anyone for a significant amount of time, but he didn't really care. He just knew that his head was going to explode (among other things) if he didn't paint your mouth white and shoot his cum down your throat right fucking now.

You brought your left hand down to cradle his balls and roll them between your fingers, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to create some much needed friction. Alastor's breathing was becoming heavier and faster with every second that passed, your tongue now moving back and forth in time with each drag; your messy slurping and moans increasing in volume causing him to see stars. "Goddamn... It feels so good!" he whispered, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth as he brought his other hand to nestle in your messy hair along with the other. Alastor was beginning to lose what little control he had left as his thrusts became more frantic, more wild and frenzied. "F-fff... uuuhh-!" he whined loudly, guiding your head down as he pushed up, your nose lightly slamming against his groin as he began to full on face fuck you.

"Fffu- ...! Oh, fuck yes! Fucking- keep going, just like that! Haahhh- ...!"

You were able to breathe through your nose, but not well enough as the edges of your vision began to go dark; your ears being filled with the sloppy 'glug, glug, glug' sound of Alastor ramming his cock in and out of your mouth at a speed you didn't think possible. Clenching your eyes shut as you let him use you to chase after his high, you tried to focus more on staying conscious only to have Alastor roughly tug on your hair, then lightly slap your cheek until you opened them again. You stared up at him with a dazed expression, your eyes teary and brows furrowed as he let one hand travel down to grip your chin. "Don't you dare look away from me!" he demanded, static rippling through the air and lights flickering, his eyes shifting to radio dials and his red sclera turning black, his grip bruising as his pace quickened. "Mm- ... mmpph!" you tried to hum in response, but the sound was swallowed by the other noises he was dragging out of you.

"Is this what you wanted?" Alastor asked as you tried to keep up with his brutal pace, fat tears now rolling down your cheeks as he began to lose himself in the pleasure you offered him. If you could, you would have nodded, but his tight grip on your hair and chin was making it difficult to do anything else except take it. "Is this what you wanted, darling- mmmpph! ... Wanted me to fuck your face like this? Hm? Is this what you fucking wanted?" he groaned loudly as his climax grew closer and closer, his antlers growing longer and his girth increasing in size with each thrust. His brows were knitted together as his nose scrunched slightly, the coil in his lower abdomen tightening to an almost excruciating degree and ready to snap any second, eyes narrowed and pointed teeth grinding together as he sucked in air quickly with each movement. "Do you want it? Take it like a good girl? Hohhh- shit!" You tried to nod once more, but again his bruising digits held your head in place, so you blinked rapidly at him, hoping that he would understand what you were trying to convey.

"That's it, that's it, take it all- Oh, fuck you're so good for me-! F-fuck, I'm cu-!"

A couple more seconds went by and you were barely holding on when you felt his hips stutter and his grip tighten further on your hair. With one final thrust, Alastor was thrown over the edge as the first ropes of his warm seed shot out and down your throat, holding your face flush against his pelvis. He let out a strangled cry of gratification as he held your head in place, your nose buried in the neatly groomed crimson bush at the base of his shaft. He used the hand that had been holding your chin to catch himself on the edge of his desk, his upper body having lurched forward when his orgasm hit, arched over your kneeling form. His abs flexed with every spurt of his cum, every blissful wave that came crashing down on him, his thighs quivering as he tried to remain upright and catch his breath. He was quite vexed, unsure if it was a lack of intimacy or the results of that drug that caused him to experience such an intense release, but he didn't really care to know right now.

"Mmph! Nngghh!" Alastor heard you humming, his entire body twitching from the overstimulating vibrations as you began to frantically tap at his thighs, trying to get him to let go so you could get some much-needed oxygen into your lungs. He pulled your head back by your hair gently and you started to cough and sputter, chest heaving and drool coating your chin. He took several seconds to catch his breath, as did you, before clicking his tongue in mock disapproval at your messy state (as if he wasn't the reason behind it) - his subtle disposition to passive-aggressively disparage all those around him momentarily breaking through this rarely seen state of vulnerability.

You brought your hands to your face, swiping at the tears that spilled from your eyes with one hand while covering your mouth with the other - a sad attempt at stifling your coughing fit. Alastor untangled his fingers from your messy strands and, in an uncharacteristic display of what most would assume is affection, smoothed them out delicately as he reached to take the hand that was wiping away your tears. He pulled you to your feet before waving his hand through the air, a glass of water manifesting a moment later with a puff of green and black smoke. He offered it to you as your coughing subsided, which you gladly accepted.

"Forgive me, darling. It seems I lost myself in the heat of the moment," Alastor apologized, having regained full control of himself now - the only signs of his uncontrolled frenzy being his shirt and coat lying in a heap nearby and his pants and briefs bunched at his ankles. You took a much-needed swig of the water he had given you, only giving him a small smile in response as you reached to rub your sinuses to ease the pain he unintentionally caused. You wondered if it would cause any petechiae bruising later (it would); what with how rough he had been with you. If it did, you assumed Angel would have SOME type of numbing agent for your throat - or, at the very least a concealer if the bruising formed on your face too.

[ Master Post ] ❀ [ Chapter One ] ❀ [ Chapter Two ] ❀ [ Chapter Three ] ❀ [ Chapter Four ] ❀ [ Chapter Five ]

[e-pluribus-unum-e]

Haunted (1/?)

A/N#1: This is a Mattheo Riddle x OC fanfic, I did this just because I struggle with writing "Y/N" over and over again. I feel like an actual name for the reader helps you connect better, and I already struggle with being a personable writer. Please forgive me. The OC is named Veralynn Post, she goes by Vera. Idk her middle name yet so don't ask. She has long curly blonde hair, it reaches to her mid to lower back, it's also very poofy (think Hermione Granger). She has amber eyes, almost like whiskey and honey. She's 5'2 and a Hufflepuff. And she's from the US of A 🗽. It probably doesn't make sense why she's in a wizarding school in England but bare with me. Also I'll probably have smut in this at some point but that won't be until they're well into their 7th year.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mattheo 🥵, my terrible writing, eventual smut but not until much later in the series

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem!OC

Summary: Vera's best friend finds herself in a whirlwind romance with none other than Theodore Nott. Vera reflects on her own love, how ever unrequited it is, and wonders when she'll finally confess to the man that holds her heart in his hands. 6.0k+ words

A/N#2: Dear Reader, Hello! This is the start of my very first attempt at a series LOL. I've written for my own enjoyment for years, but never on a blog or anything even similar to Tumblr. Last night at 2 AM I was hit with inspiration after hearing a series of songs play one after the other that reminded me so much of our baby boy Matty <3. So I have a timeline worked out and a list of songs I want to incorporate, one song per chapter, but that list is constantly changing because I'm trying to find the best ones possible to make this work. Also I'm starting them off in 6th year because yes, while they are minors, I need the time afforded to me by starting them off that young. No smut, NO SMUT, will happen before they're both well established 18 year olds in year 7. Please let me know how I can improve with my writing, it means a lot. It is my absolute pleasure to present you with the very first chapter in my Haunted series, When Emma Falls in Love. ---Sincerely, Me

When Emma Falls in Love

When Emma falls in love, she paces the floor Closes the blinds and locks the door When Emma falls in love, she calls up her mom Jokes about the ways that this one could go wrong She waits and takes her time 'Cause Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain When Emma falls in love, I know That boy will never be the same

Emma Hemlock is my best friend. I met her at Platform 9¾ on our first day at Hogwarts, and ever since then, we've been joined at the hip. With her dazzling blue eyes and her straight brown hair, her tan complexion, and her warm smile, she drew the boys' attention immediately. They would scramble to write her love letters, asking her on dates and whether or not she'd give them a chance. And she never said yes. Until, now.

Theodore Nott had been asking her out since 3rd year, always being met with a resounding "NO." He even asked me for advice!-- "C'mon Veralynn! What's her favorite flowers? Does she like butter beer? When does she-" "PISS OFF THEO"-- (spoiler alert: we didn't get along). But it seems he finally 'wore her down.'

That's such a terrible expression. At least, that's what Emma says. She explained that 'no, he didn't wear me down, I just finally had the courage to say yes.' Or something like that. In all honesty, her hesitation to say yes in the first place made sense. Theo had gained the reputation of a ladies' man, him and the rest of his crew. Draco Malfoy, Lorenzo Montague, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Mattheo Riddle.

Mattheo.

A man who could simultaneously get my heart racing out of fear and attraction. Fear of him, fear of the attraction, attraction because of the fear, however, you want to put it I don't care. But we'll get back to him later. Right now, it's all about Emma and her love life.

Emma finally said yes to Theo's persistent nagging, making him quite literally the happiest man in all of Hogwarts. No seriously, he ran into the Great Hall shouting "SHE SAID YES! WE'RE GETTING MARRI- OW, DAMN IT VERA!" (I may have thrown a dinner plate at his head).

So here I am. Waiting, sitting on the couch in our dorm, my arms wrapped around a pillow as I sat on my legs, watching the door in anticipation. They started dating in the summer. Emma's family had decided to spend their two months break on vacation in Italy. They ran into the Nott's while they were there. I have a theory that Theo caught wind of where the Hemlock family would be that June, and he begged his parents to let him go spend the summer in their family villa.

All that being said, they had had a whirlwind romance that didn't end when the warmer months came to a close. It's only the second week of our 6th year and they've gone on a total of four dates. It's almost hilarious how utterly whipped Theo is for her. That boy will never be the same.

Creeeeak. The door was pushed open—interrupting my thoughts—and Emma slipped into the room. She locked the door behind herself, her face looking... oh that's weird. She paced across the floor, closing the blinds, effectively putting an end to the bright sun I was basking in. I had expected her to come in, huffing and annoyed with the latest story on Theo's escapades. But this time, no, this time was different. Her eyes held a different story. "Vera..." Her grip on the window loosened as she turned towards me. Her lip trembling, and her eyes squinting. Suddenly her face split into the widest grin she's ever given me. "Vera-" "I know." We smiled at each other, one sincere and one feigned.

"I need- I need to send an owl to my parents. I need to ask my mom- oh shit this has never happened to me before. Vera, what do I do? What is this?" She started rambling, all the while her smile remained and she ran over to her desk. She pulled out her stationary and began her letter to her mother. "Ughhh I shouldn't even be writing to her about this, it's going to end in disaster anyway!"

What made me chuckle was the way she said it. The words were foreboding, but her smile never slipped. She didn't really expect this to end in a 'disaster.' "Write your letter, Em. Tell your Momma you're falling in love." I encourage softly from where I remain seated, nuzzling my face further into the pillow between my arms. Emma nods at me, eyes crinkling yet again as she leans back over her letter.

Okay, sure, maybe I don't sound as excited as I should for my closest friend. That's not the case, I am excited for her! But now's the time when we finally get to talk about Mattheo.

Chocolate eyes, curls the color of rich dark dirt, dimples when he smiles, and the scent of cigarettes and rain that clings to him no matter where he's been. To be frank, the man is liquid fire. And everyone else in Hogwarts noticed that too. And he took advantage of that fact. He had a new girl on his arm almost every day, never coming up empty in the 'love department.' But it was never love. Everyone understood he was never and would never be interested in anything serious. The problem with this?

Well that requires a bit of explanation.

I met him the same day I met Emma. Before her, even. I had gotten lost in the muggle train station trying to find the right platform, getting bumped into by grown strangers who didn't seem to notice the lost little girl tripping under their feet. I was born and raised in America until being invited to Hogwarts, and unfortunately, my parents couldn't afford to come with me to this wild train station. So I was all alone, trying desperately to find my way to Platform 9¾.

~flashback to that day~

I huff, dragging my luggage behind me as I try my best to push through the crowd. I couldn't see many children, which gave me my first clue that I wasn't in the right place. It was mostly muggle adults going to and fro, not glancing down to notice the small poofy-haired kid all alone. My thoughts were interrupted as someone slammed into me, "OW" I cried as the luggage slipped from my fingers. It hit the pavement floor below my feet, buckles popping open as the contents spill out. I shake my head in disbelief, looking up to see who knocked into me. All I saw was the back of a grown man walking away from me, seemingly the culprit, and also seemingly ignoring the fact that he just ruined an 11-year-old's day. "Hey wanker, watch where you're going!" I jump, startled at the grumbling voice ringing in my ear.

That wasn't my voice. No, that was behind me. Turning around, I gaze upon—for the very first time—the boy who would turn my whole world upside down. He was wearing jeans, and an almost too-big-for-him flannel, his curls falling effortlessly over his forehead as he glared past me at the man who just Kool-Aided into my back.

His eyes flickered from over my shoulder to my belongings on the ground. Wordlessly, he crouched down and started folding up the clothes and slipping them back into my suitcase. "Oh- no no that's okay you don't have to- I mean- agh this is such a mess." I scramble, trying to stop him from helping any further. 'This is so embarrassing.'

I squat down next to him, working side by side to get everything packed away. His hands stopped moving at the sound of my own voice, his head turning toward me as he took in my appearance for the first time. "You're American?" "Uh-" I blush, distracted by his pretty frown. "-yeah." I finally answer, a bit dazedly. "Cool." He responded. We just sat there, chocolate eyes looking into amber, until the distant sound of a train's horn broke us out of our trance. "Riddle. Mattheo Riddle. Where are you headed?" The boy asked, sticking his hand out for me to shake.

"Oh! I'm Veralynn Post, um, you can call me Vera. Everyone does." His eyebrow raised at that. "E-Everyone back in my- HEY!" I gasp as he starts laughing. "I was just teasing you Anna, no need to fret. But seriously where are you headed?" He tried to quiet his chuckling as he lifts my bag from the ground, carrying it along with his (and refusing to let me take it off his hands).

I took out the letter in my pocket, looking at the information it contained. "Platform 9¾." He seemed to ponder that for a minute. "I don't think that exists..." My eyes widen. How could I be so stupid? He's a normal not-wizardy-boy and here I am, spilling all of Hogwarts beans to the first person who would listen. Maybe if I play it off like I'm a dumb tourist he'll just forget all about it. Wait- is he laughing? OH THIS BOY- "Man it's easy to trick you. Lighten up, Vera."

My blush deepens, but not out of embarrassment. No, I was mad. "That's not funny Mattheo, I'm genuinely lost and alone and you're laughing at me." He seemed to soften at that, his laughter quieting down. "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you." "I'm not laughing." "Hmm... touché." The way he said it made me want to punch him in the face.

Mattheo seemed to notice the anger in my eyes as he straightened up. "All jokes aside, I'm headed there too. We can walk together?" He offered, looking at me apologetically. "...fine, but no more teasing." "That's too high a price." "Fine," another huff from me, "you can tease if you want to but at least make it obvious you're not being serious."

His grin grew. "You're funny, Vera."

~end of flashback~

I met Emma when we got onto the train, and ever since then, I've had an unrequited crush and a best friend. Emma was everything I could have asked for; a dear friend, a confidant, and a sister. And I will always remember that day in fondness for when I met her, but alongside the sweet memories of a friendship comes the tainted recollection of a lost love.

Mattheo and I have remained friendly up to this very moment, as I watch Emma fall in love with his best friend, Theodore. But after I was sorted into Hufflepuff and he into Slytherin, we went our separate ways. Never being close but always painfully aware whenever he walked into the room. In his defense, it's not like he ignored me or anything. We were amicable with one another, just not in each other's core friend group.

The sad truth is, is that girls tripped over themselves because the kind boy I met seven years ago grew into Adonis reincarnate. They notice him because he's effortlessly good-looking and always seems to get great grades, even when he's constantly skipping class to smoke or make out with some girl in the broom closet.

His chiseled abs, strong jawline, and generally Greek-god-like physique (thank you Quidditch) made him a heart throb.

However, the female population of Hogwarts treat him like a piece of meat. Even though they're aware that he’ll cast them aside after just one night of being in his embrace, not only being aware but wanting it because no one really wanted to love him. Him. I've had to watch as everyone acted as if he really was just a carnal beautiful body and not a soul.

Sure, his core friend group (Pansy, Theodore, Blaise, Enzo, and Draco) didn't care about his looks. From what I've observed, they genuinely care about him. But after years of almost the entirety of Hogwarts not caring, I've noticed how it's worn on him.

And it's not just Hogwarts and their obsessive drooling over him, it's his home life. His father in Azkaban, his mother dead, his brother ignoring his existence. He had an abusive childhood and the roughest of up bringings. The very same women who will beg him for one night in his bed, turn around to gossip about how he's the next Voldemort.

So very few people cared about him.

And I've noticed how it's worn on him.

I've noticed lots of things.

I've noticed how when he walks through the food line, he never takes the last of anything, always leaving it for the person behind him. How he hangs behind after dinner to pick up the plates and trays our fellow students were too lazy to clean up themselves. I've noticed that whenever a girl in our year comes into class with bruises on her body, her boyfriend is in the infirmary the next day and there are cuts on Mattheo's knuckles. How he slips treats to the magical creatures when everyone's too busy listening to Hagrid's lecture to even notice the exchange. Everyone is too busy to notice, except for me.

I've spent my entire Hogwarts career falling in love with a boy, who grew into a man, all while I remained unnoticed.

I hang on to every word I hear him mutter to Theo, to every nod he sends my way as he walks past, and the rare time he asks me for my notes after he misses class.

So here we are, back in my dorm, watching my best friend's love life blossom before my eyes. Yes, I'm happy for her. But yes, I'm also, admittedly and ashamedly, jealous.

'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her

I tried to listen as Cedric droned on, talking excitedly about this new book or muggle movie or something. To be honest, I've missed about 90% of what he's said. I slept roughly two hours last night, staying up to be Emma's sounding board. 'She really has fallen hard for this guy.' I think to myself as I glance across the Great Hall. Theo was sitting at his usual table, with the usual people. One of those people is Mattheo...

Mattheo laughed at something Enzo said, leaning across the table to grab food off of Pansy's plate (much to Pansy's protest). 'I hope he has a good day.' I sigh, looking back down into my cup. I had my hands wrapped firmly around the mug, sipping the warm black nectar. Emma still teased me after all these years, calling me a "Yank" for preferring just plain old coffee over tea.

A masculine rumble broke me out of my thoughts as my eyes flickered up again to see what was happening. Oh. Theo was here. And he was yapping, per usual. What, when did he get here?

The man in question was leaning his hand onto the table to my right, looking down at Emma who was in between us. "Hey, honey..." He muttered, their voices getting collectively quieter as they got wrapped up in each other's presence.

I rolled my eyes, sitting up slightly to grab Cedric. He leaned forward, but not willingly. My hands firmly grasped his collar to pull him halfway across the table. "AH- Vera let go-" "Not until you get me a new dorm and a new table. I can't handle it anymore, DO YOU HEAR ME? TOO MUCH THEO! TOO MUCH!" I shouted, sleep deprivation getting to me.

Theo stopped whatever poem or other crap he was reciting for my friend, looking up just to glare at me. "Oh stop being the anti-Cupid just because you're jealous." I turn my head, poor Cedric still being subject to my grasp, just to glare right back at Theo.

"Jealous? What the hell would I be jealous of? The fact that y'all effortlessly behave as if you got SLEEP LAST NIGHT?" "No, jealous that no one got you flowers." "Flowers? What flow- awwww Emma those are so pretty!" I push Cedric back down, turning fully in my seat to see the pretty roses in her hands.

She smiled up at me, nodding. "Someone told him they were my favorite." Her lovesick grin made me crack a genuine smirk. I sigh, feigning disappointment as I respond, "Too bad they lied."

"WHAT?" Theo exclaimed, eyes widening in horror. "Veralynn Post quit lying to my boyfriend!" Emma cried out as I just laughed harder. "Sorry, sorry, I had to."

I straightened up my posture, leaning back over my food, finishing the rest of my coffee as the lovebirds said their goodbyes. We both watched as Theo made his way back to his side of the Hall, sliding in to sit next to Mattheo.

Mattheo.

He was looking right at me. I smiled hesitantly at him, but he just looked back at his own friends, conversation continuing like it never stopped.

Oh.

My heart skipped a beat and not in a good way. This happened sometimes. I'd think he was encouraging me, I'd make an attempt to reach out, he'd go back to acting like I barely existed. My thoughts wandered to Emma. Emma. She seemed to be a natural at taming the 'bad boys.'

She had broken down the walls of her man, her man who was so misunderstood and underappreciated. Theo wanted to be good for her. It was like she was a drug he couldn't walk away from, a book he just couldn't put down.

My final thought echoed in my head like a constant ringing in between my ears as my eyes felt glued to the man who held my heart. And I knew—I knew that while I was happy to be myself—that sometimes on the coldest of nights and loneliest of days, when the absence of his love and affection rang the loudest... sometimes I wish I was her.

Well, she's so New York when she's in L.A.​​ She won't lose herself in love the way that I did 'Cause she'll call you out, she'll put you in your place When Emma falls in love, I'm learning

It was only the start of our 6th year, but every morning felt as if I was waking up on death row. Like my days were numbered, and with each passing minute, the executioner took another step closer. I've always been able to comfort myself by saying, 'It's okay that I can't hold him in my arms. At least I can be near him.'

Being in his presence alone has always been enough for me. His aura, his being, his soul being in the same room as mine has been enough for me to be content. But with graduation comes the end of it all. The end of us. The end of him. You might be going, 'Ah but graduation is just next year! You have time!'

Time? Time? It's taken me six years to get to this point and you think one more will be the difference between my anguish and my happiness? The time needed to cause a change? When him and I, two separate souls, intwine to become just us? No. There's never enough time and I'm too much of a coward to try it now, with another year in Hogwarts, where I would have to suffer not only 6th but 7th year in embarrassment and rejection. Because Mattheo Riddle doesn't want an us.

'Who am I even kidding? There is no us, there never will be. I sound like a fucking stalker.' I scoff, aggressively zipping up my bag. Potions had ended a while ago but apparently, I spaced out, only coming to when Professor Snape closed a desk draw rather loudly. It was only me and three other students in the room with him, taking our time to pack up and clean our workstations.

"-Vera. VERA." My eyes snapped up, noticing Emma waving her hand in my face. I grimaced, pushing her hand away. "How long...?" "A few seconds." She answered, frowning. I squirmed under her scrutinizing overlook. Her eyes swirled with a flurry of emotions; confusion, doubt, concern, etc. "What? Do I have something on my face?" She frowned deeper at that.

Chuckling nervously I hiked my bag over my shoulder, leading us into the hallway as we began our trek to the courtyard. Once a week we always pack lunch ahead of time, and then walk down to the Black Lake to have a picnic together. It was the highlight of my day and the pick-me-up I've really needed this past week. 'I just hope we can get there before we run into Theo.'

Theo's been really good for her, and he's been really good to her. Honestly, never thought I'd say it, but he's become like a brother to me. I usually look forward to our playful banter and then watching him whine and pout and tell Emma she hasn't spent enough time with him, but something's been off with him lately.

His behavior is as if he's walking on eggshells around me. His glances were full of concern. His questions, 'How are you?', 'Do you need to talk?', etc., etc. have been way more persistent. Nothing about me has changed, at least I don't think it has. I have no clue how he's somehow gotten the skill to look right through my mask.

I risk a glance over at Emma, eyes narrowing. She was chewing her lip, her fingers tap tap tapping. It was a trait she picked up from me. She used to complain about how fidgety I was, constantly having to at least drum my fingers or shake my knee to be able to focus. Something that became more incessant as I would get nervous or uncomfortable.

And then I noticed her doing the same thing whenever she got... nervous. 'You must have rubbed off on me,' she'd say. Well, it's a two-way road, Emma. Because your annoyingly empathetic self rubbed off on me too.

I left her with a habit she hated, and she left me with the ability to read her emotions like a book. It had it's benefits. We push through the bustling crowd, making our way to the ‘glass room,’ as we so eloquently coined it in our 1st year. It was a room with an entire wall made up of windows and an almost simple back-patio-like door that worked as one of the many exits that led to the courtyard. It was our favorite, just because of how homey it felt.

I twist the doorknob, pulling the door open for her before following her outside. There was a small friendly match of quidditch being played on one side of the courtyard, some kids were studying, and there was just a general bustle of life out there. Both from the students and from nature. As we walked down the steps and into the grass, further past everyone, weaving through all the hubbub and finally getting away from all the prying ears, I turned toward Emma. We continued down to the lake but now we finally had privacy. 

“Emma, what’s been up with you? You and Theo, now that I mention it. It’s felt as if you’ve both been… watching me. It’s kinda weird.” I nervously laugh, running a hand through my blonde curls to push them out of my face. Our black robes with yellow accents swished with our movement, though Emma’s posture noticeably stiffened when I spoke up.

She slowed to a stop, hand reaching out to grab my own and making me halt right alongside her. “Em?-” “I know.” “Know what?” “I know you’re in love with him.” Time seemed to slow. My heart quickened and my hands started tap tap tapping. I tilted my head slightly, looking at her closer. I never told anyone, I never spoke a word about my feelings.

Which means she noticed, she caught on, and she figured it out. She’s the only one who could’ve figured it out. Theo’s too dense to have- she told him. “Love who?” I spat out, anger simmering just below the surface. She caught on to that too. “Matt-” I yank my hand from hers, stomping away from her and towards the water. “Vera! I’m not judging you- stop just stop running away!” “Running?!” I whip back around. “You told Theo!” 

Her eyes looked wet, her lip trembling as she took in my ruffled appearance. “I didn’t.” I scoffed. “I didn’t.” She repeated with a firmer tone this time. “He knows you enough to know something is wrong, but he doesn’t know what is wrong.” “My- my love isn’t wrong. It’s not the end of the world for someone to be loved by me.” I shutter out running a hand down my face as I try not to spiral.

I know she didn’t mean it like that, I know she didn’t mean to have that heart wrenching look of pity in her eyes. But I could just hear what she was thinking, my insecurities clanging like a gong in between my ears, ‘Oh Vera, how could you ever think he’d love you back?’

We stood in a field. Surrounded by tall grass and beautiful wildflowers, a lake just a few feet to our right, a tree about two yards to the left of us, and the sounds of our school echoing down the hill and filling the uncomfortable silence that fell upon us.

“Vera…” My friend’s words cut through that very silence, voice sincere. “...you love with a love so loyal, that you are content with standing on the sidelines for years. You love, with a love so fierce, that you will defend and fight and protect even when the object of your desire doesn’t take notice. You think I haven't noticed your absolute adoration toward the boy? I picked up on it back in 2nd year. You can’t keep secrets from me, you know that.” We both laughed through tears at that one.

I looked at her in shock, not knowing what to say. 

But she quickly spoke up before I could even fully process what she said before, “You love with a love anyone would be blessed to receive. But the fact of the matter is, you absolutely suck when it comes to confessions.”

My eyes narrowed at that sudden change in tone, getting whiplash from how fast she went from serious to downright insulting. It would be funny if the situation wasn't so emotional.

“You watch him from afar, you love him at a distance, but graduation is closer than it's ever been and you’re letting him slip through your fingers. I’ve watched you lose yourself in this love for long enough. It’s time, Vera. Tell him or move on but I won’t let you throw away our last years at Hogwarts just because you were trying to hold on to something you’ve never had.” I flinched at that, looking back toward the ground.

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying…” Evidently, Emma crossed the distance separating us, and I felt her hands comfortingly squeezing my shoulders. “I’m saying… it’s time you come clean. It’s time you tell Mattheo you’re in love with him.”

Emma met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now he'll be her shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

So I told him I love him. 

KIDDING. After Emma surprise attacked me in that field, I ran back to our dorm and hid until noon the next day. She gave me her notes and we caught up on all the classes I missed, and then we talked for hours about him. And I told her everything.

Everything I felt toward him, everything I loved about him, everything I knew about him. She just smiled at me and rubbed my back during it all, giving nods of encouragement as I stuttered over my words.

The days went by as I tried to figure out what to do. I’d sound absolutely bonkers if I just went up to him and professed my undying affection. I’d become every other girl! ‘Except this time, it’d be a girl who truly cares about him…’ I thought bitterly to myself.

Every time I started to brainstorm on how I could run into him or get his attention, I felt like a crazy person. Like someone could peer into my thoughts and watch as I spiraled further and further into the madness of conspiracy theories and red string. It felt wrong to be so… calculated with him. He deserves better than that.

So I stayed quiet, waiting for an opportunity but not pushing it. Waiting for the stars to align and him to drop in my lap. Waiting like I’ve been waiting for the past six years. My frown deepened at that thought, heart weary as I walked into Transfiguration. Three things immediately drew my attention to the far corner of the room.

The object of my affections was actually… attending class.

He was sitting in my seat.

He was staring right at me.

I gulp, hands flexing around the strap of my satchel, nervously and uncomfortably holding eye contact with his gorgeous chocolate pools, the windows to his soul. The only way to describe the emotions swarming in those very same windows, was… curiosity? Amusement? Warmth? It was hard to tell at this distance—the occasional student walking to their seat or passing by to meet up with their friends making it hard to gaze wholly into his eyes.

‘Oh how I wish I knew what you were thinking…’ I shake my head, breaking that train of thought as well as the spell Mattheo and I seemed to be under. A shoulder bumps into me, reminding me I was planted in the doorway. I crossed the threshold, walking towards Mattheo— my desk.

“I’d say I was happy to see you but I’d be happier if I had my own seat.” I prodded jokingly as I sat down rather heavily in the seat to his left. A laugh slipped out of his lips, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile, throwing his head to the side to look at me. “Your seat? I’ve never seen you sit here, baby.” Mattheo teased, eyes glinting with humor.

I felt my cheeks burn at that comment. He said it so casually, that term of endearment that I would give anything to hear him say with meaning.

Our interactions always went this way. He'd shamelessly flirt with me (making me feel as if I couldn't breathe), I tried my best to meet his challenge (occasionally I got him to blush too), and it always ended with him walking away without a backwards glance. ‘Stop, stop thinking that. He’s talking to you, talk back!’ My inner Jiminy Cricket chides.

“You’ve never seen me sit here? Well, darling, I’d have to say this is the first time I’ve seen you in this class. It’s no wonder you’ve never noticed me sitting here.” Mattheo’s eyes widened slightly at that but his smile never faded, pleasantly surprised respond with your own pet-name. 

“Wizards and witches, quiet down!” Professor McGonagall called out, dropping a heavy book onto her desk. The sound of the loud thud echoed as the surrounding voices hushed to a silence. She had everyone’s attention. Well, everyone except for the two kids in the far corner.

We continued gazing into each other’s eyes, brows furrowing into an almost challenge to see who’d turn away first. “Ah, Mr. Riddle. Glad to see you bothered to grace us with your presence.” The older woman clicked her tongue, effectively pulling us apart, our eyes breaking contact as our heads whipped toward her. “Talk to me after class.” McGonagall made sure to stare point blank at Mattheo, voice steady and tone devoid of humor. “Fuck, she looks mad.” I put my hand over my mouth, holding in a snicker at Mattheo’s whispered comment as our teacher begins her lesson. “Stop, you’re gonna get us in trouble.” I scold, opening my notebook and reaching into my bag looking for a quill. Oh crap.

My eyes widened in panic. No quill. I started unzipping the different pockets, rummaging around, hoping that with enough silent begging and prayer, one would just magically appear. ‘It’s fitting we’re in Transfiguration… maybe the lesson will be on “Making Your Own Quill.”’

I’m pulled out of my inner grumbling with a tap on my shoulder. I was bent over toward the side, in between Mattheo and I’s tables, searching as silently as possible for anything to write with. So the sudden feeling of two fingers tapping my arm made me jump slightly.

I glance up, seeing the prettiest and most annoyingly smug grin. “If I lend you a quill, will you lend me your seat?” He asked, tapping on the chair he was leaning back in. I frown, eyebrows furrowing yet again as I sit back up. “You not only brought one, but two quills? I didn’t know you owned a notebook.” I whisper back, happily shocked to find out he had planned to pay attention today.

“No, I brought one. And trust me, it was a spur of the moment decision. Deep down we both know I wasn’t gonna use it anyway. Just take it.” He finally pulled out the writing tool from his bag, sliding it onto the wood slab in front of me.

“Mattheo I can’t take your onl-” “You can, and you will.” He smirked, insisting. "Well..." I sigh, nodding as I picked up the feather. "...Mattheo Riddle. You are my hero." "Call me any day baby, I'm happy to rescue such a beautiful damsel." His eyes glinted with amusement at my burning cheeks.

He turned back to face the front of the class, his heart stopping stupid ass grin staying plastered on his gorgeous stupid ass face. ‘He called me bea-HE CALLED ME BEAUTIFUL. What the heck is happening.' I close my eyes, breathing in and out a few times to try to get control over my racing thoughts.

'Will I ever get used to the utter heart palpitations this man causes me to have? It’s like a rabbit is trapped in my chest.’ I shake my head, looking back down at my journal.

I didn’t even know where to begin, utterly lost in this day's lecture as the past however-many-minutes was spent paying attention to Mattheo and panicking over my lack of writing tools rather than the actual subject Professor McGonagall was droning on about.

My thoughts wander back to what I was thinking of before I saw the beautiful boy to the right of me. I’ve been waiting for six years. For six years I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to drop in my lap, or for Riddle to come profess his love to me, or something, anything. I can’t even remember at this point.

I was tired of it all. Tired of waiting, tired of not knowing, tired of not living just because I yearned for something I didn’t have. I dip the quill in the ink, hesitating as the tip hovered over paper. The ink gathered at the point, almost falling off and splattering on the white page.

I glance to my right, gazing fondly at him. His profile, his curls, his general posture as he tried to pretend he was paying attention but he was simultaneously fighting sleep. His eyes kept fluttering shut and he was slumping further and further down into his chair.

I look back down at the paper. I’m tired of waiting. And so I began writing.

I met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out my heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now I’ll be his shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

[harrywavycurly]

Haunted Part 4: Did it hurt?

Masterlist: Here

TW: brief mention of death

Tag List: @cultish-corner @starrywhitenight @burns-in-the-sun @jesssssmaybankk @amira0303 @gretavankleep37

“So did it hurt?” You turn your head in the direction of Eddie’s voice as you get comfortable on the worn out chair in his spare bedroom that he’s turned into his music room. Eddie looks down at the guitar in his lap as soon as your eyes find his, he isn’t sure why he asked the question but it’s out there now so he can’t take it back.

“Did what hurt?” You ask as you turn your attention to the black and red guitar that’s leaning against the wall closest to your chair. Eddie watches with a smile on his face as you reach over and pluck a few of the strings giggling to yourself at the feeling of the strings on your fingertips.

“Dying.” Eddie feels his cheeks get hot as soon as the word leaves his mouth, he hates the feeling of embarrassment he gets as you look back at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry I don’t know why I-”

“I don’t remember it.” You answer quickly cutting his apology off, you stand up and walk over to the window and let out a sigh as you see it’s started to rain. “I don’t think it did though.” You add as you watch the rain hit the window as the clouds outside begin to darken.

“That’s good.” You just nod as you get lost in the trance of watching the rain for a few moments while flashbacks of your life flip through your mind.

“I was a teacher.” Eddie looks up from his guitar as you continue to look out the window. “I taught kindergarten I think? Or at least something to do with young kids.” You close your eyes and see glimpses of a classroom with bright colored decorations and laughing kids.

“I bet you were a great teacher.” You smile and open your eyes so you can turn and face Eddie as he places his hands on his guitar and strums a few chords, he’s learned over the past few days that you like watching him practice his guitar skills.

“Can you teach me?” You watch Eddie’s hand movements momentarily pause as you take a few steps towards where he’s sitting on the beat up couch he keeps in the small room so that you’re standing in front of him. He looks up at you as you give him a small smile as you reach over and tuck a few stands of his hair behind his ear.

“You wanna learn to play?” He asks making you just nod as you take a seat next to him, close enough that your knees are touching making Eddie all of a sudden feel nervous that for a moment it’s as if he doesn’t even remember how to play.

“On second thought maybe another day.” He knows by the tone of your voice that you’re remembering something particularly sad and that at any moment you’re going to disappear.

“Don’t go.” You look down at your hands in your lap as a wave of sadness hits you due to a flashback replaying itself in your head. You see yourself laughing and smiling as you sit in a room very similar to Eddie’s living room, someone is talking to you about their day and it’s a good memory but it also makes you sad because you can tell you loved this person and it makes you wonder how they’re doing now that you’re gone.

“I’ll be back.” You reassure Eddie as he watches as your feet slowly begin to fade away. “Don’t worry.” You turning your head to give him a smile is the last thing he sees before you’re totally gone, he still isn’t quite sure where you go when you disappear on him. But he trusts you when you tell him you’ll be back even if it’s in a day or a week he knows eventually you’ll reappear somewhere in his tiny house.

[septemberkisses]

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

[sofy-tofy]

Playstation 2 Horror Games Advertising

[parlapina]

"How would you describe most of your favorite shows/books?"

Like this:

[alice-everafter]

"Stop moving around, herbivore."

The otherwise heavy silence is broken by Leona's deep timber of a voice. Rolling onto your back puts you in line of sight of his bed, where you can see the Savanna prince half covered in sheets you couldn't even afford to breathe on. He's facing away from you, barely moving. If he hadn't just spoken you'd assume he was dead or something.

"I could hear your squirming from half way across campus. Settle down or get out, you're disturbing my sleep."

"...Sorry." Your throat twinges with the faint reminder of how you got to sleep in the dorm room of Leona Kingscholar in the first place.

After being so rudely ejected from your beloved Ramshackle home on such short notice, possible sleeping arrangements were few and far between. Now, you could've taken Ace and Deuce up on their offer, but Jack was... he was Jack. And only Jack could convince you to stay in Savanaclaw. But, then Leona had to come and say no, and then you panicked cause you saw yourself and Grim on the street. And that panic plus the sleep deprivation from finals lead you to perform your own rendition of "Cotton Eye Joe" outside his bedroom out of sheer desperation.

You didn't even get to the second verse before he bodily dragged you inside with a growl that had you accepting death like an unspoken principle.

The room was once again blanketed in a thick silence. Grim, who slept by your feet, didn't even make a peep. Banging those pots around while providing you backing vocals must've taken it out of him. Poor guy. Out of anyone in this room, he's the one you'd feel the most bad for disturbing.

So, with a sigh, you accept your fate and get up from your collection of floor blankets. Your destination being one of the Savanaclaw couches.

You knew your mind, you wouldn't be sleeping for a while. There was just... too much. Azul and his contracts, Jade and Floyd and their sharp teeth, Leona and his eyes. The ones that once looked at you like you were vermin to crush through the haze of a raging sandstorm. While Ruggie batted and kicked and cried for breath. And you swore his eyes had glazed over as he fell limp and━

"Hey."

You stop, both bodily and mentally, as his voice once again breaks the silence. There's a cold sweat you didn't notice gathering on your back. You turn to find him staring at you with those same green eyes. You can't tell if he's searching for something in you or debating heavily with himself. But, whatever it is, it isn't for long before he seems to come to a conclusion with a rumbling sigh.

"Come here."

What. "What."

"You heard me, come here."

To say you were conflicted would be the understatement of the century. You had just been spiraling not even 30 seconds ago and now the object of your trauma was beckoning you closer like the parent to your distressed child.

"I don't have all day, herbivore. You coming or not?"

"...It's night."

"..."

"..."

"Just get over here before I change my mind."

"Right."

He heaves another grumbling sigh as you shuffle across the room. Stood next to his bed gives you a view reminiscent of that time in the greenhouse. Him, splayed across his bed, hair cascading over his pillows. While you're stock still and more than a bit puzzled and kind of scared. Even though you're looking down on him, you don't feel like you have the advantage that you should. He looks almost too calm, too relaxed. Like he's assured of a victory yet to come.

That thought sends a chill up your spine, reminding you of the sweat that persists on your back.

"Well?" He raises a brow expectantly.

You blink, "well, what?"

"Are you laying down or what?"

"...Am I laying down or what?"

"Need me to spell it out for you? Or should I help you into bed?"

"Not necessary."

You don't know what possesses you━whether it's self preservation or annoyance or curiosity or just straight madness━but you get in. You pull back those luxurious sheets and slide beneath them where you're immediately accosted by warmth. Heat seems to be radiating from him like a fire.

The revelation is... not an unpleasant one.

You realize he's still staring at you. But, not intently, not like he's trying to pry a secret from you. Leona never looks at anyone like he means to take their person apart. He simply observes and acknowledges, anyone and anything.

"Think you can finally go to bed and stop flopping around like a dead fish?"

"...Haven't I dealt with enough fish today? And now you bring them up in Savanaclaw of all places. Is no where safe?"

You're surprised when his brows pinch in amusement and a short but gruff chuckle leaves his lips.

"My bad then, for touching on such a tender topic."

"Yeah, your bad indeed."

No one says anything else afterward and he seems to take that as an invitation to turn onto his back. Letting out a deep breath through his nose while nestling an arm behind his head, eyes sliding shut.

Somewhere between you climbing into his bed and him settling down to sleep, the sweat has cooled off your skin. Not to mention the sudden heaviness dragging at your eyelids. Seems that you would be able to sleep some after all.

You turn away and towards the open balcony, towards the spot where you had once laid and Grim continues to snooze. The moon lights up the room, and though it's not the sun, it still feels just as warm somehow.

Speaking of warm, there's a heater pressed to your back. Scratch that, Leona is pressed to your back. And that's his arm, sliding over your hip and resting draped over your side.

It feels like the world hiccups when you feel his next breath puff against your hair. But, surprisingly enough, you're not shaking in your metaphorical boots. Just... very confused, once again.

"...Is this supposed to be punishment for 'Cotton Eye Joe?'"

He says nothing at first, and you begin to fear for your safety before he eventually does.

"Whatever helps put you to bed faster."

That arm over your side moves before you feel his hand settle atop your collarbone. Those same hands that had once brought ruin and pain were now just a small brush away from your neck.

This should terrify you, but it doesn't. Because he's gentle in this moment. His arm isn't an insistent press, it's a steady weight. His hand isn't a branding clasp, it's a soft touch.

There are words left unsaid between you two that his body seems to carry instead. And you drift off with the feeling of his tail draping over your ankles beneath the sheets.

[prettydjarinsoloinspires]

i’m sorry but Mobius’s echoing voice over the zoom in on Loki’s face as the very last shot.. that was most certainly not nothing. in fact, i think it was everything.

[astronomodome]

grian and scar never left the desert ren and martyn never saw the spring and etho ‘ladders’ slab will always be stuck on that stage above the decked out lobby wondering what the deal with bathroom penis is

[spicyvampire]

Well, it didn't haunt him for very long [Great's version]

4MINUTES (2024) EP. 7

[namchyoon]

It's mission complete!

PEACEFUL PROPERTY (2024) dir. Dome Jarupat Kannula

[synamartia]

[ Featured Artwork © lustylita ] ❀ [ Featured Divider © cafekitsune ]

[ Story © synamartia ] ❀ [ Text Banner created via Text Studio ]

Content Warnings: Alastor x Reader ; Afab!Reader ; No pronouns or Y/N used ; Use of gendered pet names like "good/dirty girl" ; Explicit / MDNI / 18+ ; Sexual situations ; Sex pollen tripe (Love Potion) ; Hematolagnia (blood play) ; Biting ; Dom!Alastor ; Face-sitting ; Dirty talk ; Unprotected sex ; Vaginal penetration ; P in V sex ; Creampie ; Overstimulation ; Alastor is his own CW ; If I missed any, let me know! Word Count: 6,542 Summoning: @hazelfoureyes ; @minkdelovely ; @sugoi-writes ; @fraugwinska ; @lustylita ; @eris-norwega ; @rapturenyx ; @sirens-and-moonflowers ; @swagkittybear ; @l3rittany ; @chibistar45 ; @aceumbrellaheroes ; @pearly-sadness ; @mydickisjuicy ; @daisy-figmund ; @lunaorlunareclipse Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay on this one - we had a couple unexpected issues come up that cut into my editing opportunities ;A; Like Chapter Two, this one is a direct continuation of the previous chapter. I'm gonna try to make the next chapter the end of this particular scene, so we'll be getting into the plot soon! Get ready, 'cause it gets dark right out the gate! Also, I apologize ahead of time for the cut-off point - I know it's gonna leave some of ya'll with blue balls. But I'll make it up to you! I swear! Alastor's dialogue will be in bold red, thoughts in italics red, and Reader's will be in blue. If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, let me know via ask/comment!

"Ah-! Fuck!"

You cried suddenly when he switched from kneading away at your breast to pinching your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and index finger. Your walls clenched tightly around his stiff cock at this, extracting a raspy whine from him. Alastor was making it damn near impossible to keep your eyes open, to focus on him. Every single thing he did, from the perpetual thrusting of his hips right down to the sounds that poured from his mouth had you close to creaming on his cock.

"Hm? You like that?" Alastor asked you, tone mocking as he parroted back your question regarding his ears. A jovial laugh echoed in yours when he saw your pout, your lip jutting forward as he leaned down closer to your chest, his thrusts diligent and relentless in their speed. It was amazing that the desk was still standing in spite of the rough pounding he was giving you. With one hand switching between massaging the spongy flesh of your breast to pinching and twisting its tip, Alastor's mouth attended to the other - teeth grazing the pebbled tissue, his lips wrapping around your erect nipple. Suckling gently, he began to flick his tongue over it a few times shortly before pulling away to place tender kisses to your heated, flushed skin. "Oh, my dear - you're so soft," he whispered, speaking more to himself than you, biting near your sternum hard enough to draw blood - sucking at the few droplets that trickled from the tiny wound seconds later.

Lapping at the small gashes in a soothing manner, he moaned into your skin as beads of the delectable red liquid coated his tongue. "So sweet," he mumbled against the malleable flesh. Alastor just knew your breasts would look positively radiant with bite marks, varying degrees of bruises and hickeys littering your skin - every single magnificent blemish a result of his ministrations. Knowing that he was the one to put them there had him twitching inside you, eager to make the images in his mind a reality.

"And all for me."

Alastor withdrew from your delectably beautiful breast, his lips popping loudly as the suction ceased. He took a moment to admire his work - the skin already beginning to darken where he had been suckling; his saliva that coated the hickey making it shine in the dim light; the red imprint of his hand and crescent shaped indentations of his nails where he unwittingly squeezed a little too hard; the way the surrounding area of your lacerated flesh where he bit you began to redden and swell. A sense of triumph and pride came over him, as he had been right - they did look absolutely radiant like this. It had him wondering what the rest of you would look like with similar markings; bite marks on the insides of your thighs and neck, scratches down your back made by his clawed hands, bruises littered across your chest and abdomen - his thrusts lost their rhythm at the thought of it all.

Soon after, Alastor was drawn from his imagination when he felt your hands in his hair again - only this time, your slender fingers were wrapped around the base of his antlers. How you were able to surprise him so easily, so often with such miniscule actions, he'd never know. "A-Ala- ...! Fuck, fuck, please- ...!" you choked out in between your gasping for air and loud sobs of ecstasy, your eyes fluttering as you fought against your own instincts, to keep them focused on his face. "Don't stop, don't stop, oh my god- ...! Oh fffuuu-!" you begged him, tears welling up in your eyes as you teetered right on the cusp of euphoria. A guttural moan from deep within his chest filled the air at the vice grip you had on both his antlers and his cock, nearly swallowed by the melodious sounds you were making and the steady slaps of skin on skin each time he slammed into you. His eyes shifted to radio dials as he watched the expressions you were making with exultation, basking in the marvelous rhapsodies you were singing for him.

Pressing his lips back against your breast, Alastor started to suck and bite in previously unmarked areas - determined to cover every inch of your silky skin. "Cum for me," he beckoned, control slipping from his fingers once again as he began to lose himself in the rapturous pleasure your body was providing. That was all you needed to hear - the sinful drag of his length within your dripping cunt finally pushing you over the edge, every muscle in your body contracting as the first waves of delicious gratification washed over you, swallowing you whole and claiming your senses. Alastor relished in the way your brows furrowed and your jaw dropped, a silent scream clinging to the back of your throat as you gave yourself over to the electrifying cascades. "Such a beautiful sight," he drawled, voice thick with lust and passion, the near deafening crackles and pops of static filling your ears - it was impossible that a more heavenly sight could exist, he thought.

If he could focus on anything else except the way you were squeezing him so tight, Alastor would be thinking of ways to save this moment, this beauty that you were oh-so-gracious enough to share with him. "... - sstor! A-Al-! Hoh- ohhh-! Mmmah-! Alasss- ...!" you couldn't form any coherent words, having been reduced to a blubbering mess as your walls clamed down on his erect member, the way they so greedily continued to suck him back in with each retraction of his hips, the near painful hold you had on him only serving to heighten the pleasure that accompanied it ten-fold.

"If you keep- ... Nnghh-! -keep squeezing me like that, darling-! Fuuhh-!" he tried to warn you, the futility of his words falling on deaf ears - he was too far gone, his words no longer mattered. Alastor had been so focused on coaxing another climax out of you that he failed to notice how close he was to his own, not until the suffocating grip you had on his cock was hurtling him down into the euphoric pits of bliss - forcing him to empty himself inside you for the second time. "Wait, wait- ...! Oh fuck, I'm-!" he cursed, unable to finish his sentence in time as his balls tightened and his mouth hung open, his breath hitching in his throat. He clenched his eyes shut and bowed his head, the sensations overwhelming him - your core dragging him down further and further with every pulse, every contraction of your muscles as he painted your walls white with his seed.

As you slowly came down from your high, seeing his reaction had you pouncing on the opportunity to give Alastor a little taste of his own medicine. You tightened your hold on his enlarged antlers, knuckles white as you pulled his head back and forced him to look up at you, a devious smirk dancing across your lips. "Eyes on me, dearest," you teased him, your tongue lingering on the last word as his body shook and shivered each time you pumped the velvety bones protruding from his skull - your hold pushing him straight into overstimulation with each stroke, every twist of your hands, your nimble fingers massaging gently over any branches you could reach.

Alastor stared up at you with hooded eyes, lips parted as he panted hard - his carefully curated mask of control and ambiguity faltering for a split second as he collapsed on top of you, his strength leaving his body. The small glimpse this gave you into his inner word had your smile softening into one of complete adoration, watching him rest his cheek on your breast, his smile exhausted and tranquil as he tried to level out his breathing.

Retracting your hands from the now shrinking bone, you laced your fingers into his disheveled crimson tresses, smoothing out the ruffled strands. "Good boy," you praised, letting the tips of your fingers stroke the backs of his hypersensitive ears, earning you a relaxed sigh as he nuzzled into your bosom. The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes - simply basking in the afterglow of your passionate acts and enjoying the silence that followed. It felt so surreal to you, being here with Alastor in such an intimate manner, unable to recall the last time you felt so peaceful, so safe in the arms of another person. If you could, you would have stopped time, if only to stay like this - in this moment for just a little while longer. You didn't want this feeling to disappear, absolutely terrified of what would come once it did.

'No, not now. I refuse to think about that - about him...'

Alastor broke his gaze first, closing his eyes and turning his head to place chaste kisses to your chest - and just like that, the mask had returned to its rightful place, barring you from the most vulnerable sanctuary of his inner world as the roiling waves of his release finally subsided, allowing him to take hold of the reins once more. A sigh of repose made its way past his lips as Alastor moved to stand up straight now, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs. "My, my. Brazen little thing, aren't you?" his question rhetorical, his eyes drifting down your sweat covered figure as he pushed your legs further apart. He stared down at the place where your bodies were joined, pride swelling within his being while he admired the way he stretched you open.

Your walls clung to his shaft mercilessly, refusing to release their tight grip as he slowly retracted his hips until he'd pulled out of you entirely - sticky strings of his seen momentarily keeping you connected. "Fuck," Alastor groaned as he watched the viscous white fluid seep from your quivering hole and roll down your ass, a few beads dripping onto the carpeted floor beneath him, admiring the way your pussy clenched around nothing. With his left hand, he swiped at any drops he could catch and pushed it back inside with his index and middle fingers, pumping his digits slowly, eliciting a strangled whine out of you and causing your thigh to strain against his other hand. A haughty laugh erupted from his chest at your weak attempts to close your legs, removing his fingers from your core and bringing them up to your mouth.

"Open,"

Alastor commanded you, then pushed his fingers past your lips to press flat against your tongue. "So messy," he breathed out as you sucked his digits clean of your mixed fluids, not wanting a single drop to go to waste. Satisfied with your obedience, Alastor withdrew his fingers from your mouth a few moments later and cupped your cheek - brushing his calloused thumb over the remnants of your running mascara and eventually drifting back down to press against your lower lip. In that instance, his ever-present smile softened into one of serenity and contentment, drinking in this moment of complete ataraxy.

He could feel the effects of the Love Potion finally begin to drain from his body, being replaced with a sense of relief and... disappointment. 'Something's not right here,' Alastor realized, noticing that despite having successfully remedied his symptoms, he still very much so desired your company and affection. He rarely experienced emotions of a sexual nature outside his ruts, and he couldn't recall having ever felt romantic attraction to anyone in life or in death, so it was strange that he found himself wanting to drag this out as long as possible. But why? What about you was so different that had him betraying his preferences, yearning for your touch and longing to hear those sweet whispers over and over again until you couldn't speak?

Perhaps Love Potion was more than just a potent aphrodisiac and he simply underestimated the range of effects that spray could have on a person. He never had any reason to learn anything about it before tonight, viewing it strictly as another pointlessly annoying invention by those bandwagon riding hacks, so he was in the dark just as much as you. Or maybe his rut hit him early this time around. Whatever the case, Alastor refused to admit these were his own raw, unfiltered emotions and desires - it was too ridiculous, too comical a notion to be true. Him, the Radio Demon, the great and powerful Alastor, famous for his sadistic brutality, experiencing feelings as asinine and weak as romance? How utterly absurd!

... Unfortunately, the longer it went on, the more he was forced to acknowledge the horrendous possibility that dreadful mixture had only served as a catalyst to something much greater than a simple romp in the hay.

'This won't do,' Alastor thought, knowing he had to uproot these feelings of infatuation as soon as possible - before they grew beyond containment and become a threat of any sort. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was fully aware that it was a foolish decision, to not cut this off at the source immediately, but he couldn't help himself. The brilliance with which your eyes shined and the promises of bliss your body continued to make even now had him second guessing that course of action. But there was still a very real possibility, one much more likely that this was just a passing fancy brought on by the drug, and all he needed to do was get it - get you out of his system. 'Yes, that's all I need to do,' he told himself, deciding that he would indulge in these cravings - and you - for a little while longer.

Impulsively, Alastor leaned down again to give you a sweet kiss. His lips lingered on yours, one hand moving to curl around the back of your neck, the other finding your waist as he tugged you up into a sitting position. What started out as an innocent kiss soon turned more playful when he felt your teeth nipping and tugging on his lip, causing him to pull away with a light-hearted chuckle. "Quite the mischievous little minx, too," he said as he continued to smile down at you, a breathy giggle emerging from your throat in response to his statement. "There's the pot calling the kettle black," you mused, letting your hands rest on his forearms and leaning forward to press your head against his bare chest. "Hmm... I prefer the term 'cheeky monkey', but I suppose mischievous works just as well," he countered, lightly massaging the base of your scalp.

Silence filled the space between you as your exhaustion was quickly catching up, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. You had to stifle yet another yawn, something that did not go unnoticed by Alastor when he pulled you back gently by your hair to see your face better. "Tired? Would you like to stop?" he asked you, his grin widening when he saw the confusion on your face. Alastor looked down at the small space between your bodies, then to your face as a single brow rose - as if he was hinting for you to look down as well. "As enjoyable as that was, I don't think it was enough to rid my body of these pesky symptoms," he blamed that god-awful concoction, adamantly refusing to admit these desires were all his and nothing more. Following Alastor's suggestions, you looked down to see that he was once again fully erect, beads of precum leaking from his head to join with the remnants of your mixed essences. "Damn... What the hell did they put in that potion?" you asked jovially as you looked back up at him, a smile to match his own plastered across your face.

"I've not the slightest clue," Alastor laughed along with you at this predicament you've found yourselves in, glad that you both were now able to make light of the situation your mistake had caused. "But I will most definitely be having a little chat with our friend, Angel, about bringing such paraphernalia into this establishment come morning," he promised, his voice coming out as a growl as Angel's name rolled off his tongue. Alastor wholeheartedly blamed Angel for this chain of events - had he kept to the initial agreement when taking up residence at Hazbin Hotel, the drug never would have been anywhere near your naive self, and he wouldn't be tearing himself apart inside trying to figure out what it is he truly felt for you. Was it a fair judgement? Probably not, but it was of no concern to Alastor.

That was Charlie's job, not his.

"Uh-huh... And will this be a chat, chat, or should I stock up on tissues and ice cream before telling Charlie that her first guest is, ya know-" you ran your finger in a straight line across your neck as a way of saying 'dead'. Your question pulled him from his thoughts and Alastor blinked innocently. "Oh, heaven's no! I'm not going to kill him over something so frivolous as this!" he reassured you, waving a hand in the air to dismiss the idea. He had thought about it, sure - but it would bring more trouble than it was worth. He would never hear the end of it from Charlie and her pet; not to mention the numerous problems that would occur following his butchery of an owned soul, one belonging to a rival Overlord, and of high quality and value as Angel Dust. He could easily handle whatever the Vee's threw at him without breaking a sweat, but he'd rather not invite that kind of trouble to his doorstep just yet, not with the impending Extermination steadfastly approaching.

"He wouldn't die anyway, unless I used angelic steel. I'd rather save myself the headache he would give me after he puts himself back together."

Alastor had to hand it to Angel, though. He was mildly impressed by the resilience of his soul as well as his mind. When there was more than a fifty percent gap in the level of power, usually the owned soul would lose their sense of autonomy and become a mindless drone within the owner's ranks - but not him. Angel not only maintained his sentience after selling his soul, but he also still possessed the will to fight back too - and fight back, he did whenever Val's abuse stepped outside the parameters of their contract, a feat deserving of his praise. He had potential, that one. "Besides, it's far too entertaining to watch him annoy Husker. Poor fellow brings it on himself," he explained and waved away your concerns, soon turning his attention back to the growing ache within his loins.

"Okay, good. It's not really his fault, anyway," you mumbled as you thought of how you were going to get to Angel first - you had to warn him, at least. He may have brought Love Potion into the hotel, but you were the one ignorant enough to spray a previously unknown substance around one of the most feared demons Hell has ever known in recent memory. Angel already had one Overlord breathing down his neck, abusing him at every turn - it would eat you alive if you were the reason a second was added to the mixture. Drawing your attention back to him, Alastor lowered his hands to your hips and pulled you closer, pressing himself against you in an effort to alleviate some of his pain. "But I can think of a couple things that would be far more entertaining than a cat trying to swat away a spider," he purred, static popping loudly as he leaned down to steal another kiss from you, to which you happily returned.

The moment was fleeting as Alastor pulled back and reached behind you to the small vintage radio sitting near the corner of his desk. He pulled the knob to power it up and turned a few dials until smooth jazz began to play from its speakers. Although still mildly irked by your earlier actions - when you covered your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself - he remembered the embarrassment he saw in your eyes. Now that he was able think more clearly on it, he realized how much it truly bothered you to be heard by someone else other than him, and it sent small pangs of guilt all throughout his being. 'How inconsiderate of me,' he thought, cursing himself for not having any restraint despite his warning of the possibilities earlier. Alastor owed you an apology for the way he ignored your feelings in pursuit of his own pleasure, especially when you had been nothing but compassionate and accommodating of his needs.

Taking a step back, Alastor bent over to unlace his shoes and remove his remaining garments that were wrapped around his ankles - allowing you a glimpse of something curious. Initially, you had no idea what it was as you leaned forward, then side to side in an attempt to get a better look at it. "Hmm...?" Alastor hummed when he stood up straight, immediately noting the perplexed expression that overtook your features as he kicked his trousers and briefs to the side. "Something the matter, dear?" he asked you, tilting his head to the side as you pressed your lips into a thin line. You continued to eye the neatly groomed ball of crimson and black fluff for a few seconds before it finally dawned on you what it might have been.

Does... he have a tail?

"Alastor, is that a tail?" you blurted without thinking, immediately slapping both of your hands over your mouth right after. "Oh- that," he said nonchalantly, moving to stand between your legs once more. Your body tensed as you awaited his reaction, certain that you had earned yourself a good scolding for such an impolite question. You hadn't meant to be so bold or outright, but you've long since known that your body and your brain hadn't been on the same page since the moment all of this began. "Yes, it's a tail," Alastor responded with a sigh and turned slightly, swishing the puff of fur side to side a couple times to amuse you before turning back. "I'm sorry, that was rude- ...!?" you tried to apologize, but a surprised squeal interrupted your speech when his sharpened claws sunk into your posterior after he hoisted you up off the desk, your hands shooting up to grab onto his shoulders and legs wrapping around his waist in the process.

"It's alright, darling," Alastor reassured you, spinning around and taking a few long strides to the rarely used bed. "While I'm not particularly fond of it, my tail isn't something that I've ever gone out of my way to hide," he explained, dropping you onto the mattress and climbing on top of you soon after, nestling himself in between your legs as you breathed a sigh of relief - albeit a short-lived one. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, causing your body to tense right back up with each word that spilled from his lips. "Although, you are correct - it was quite rude to ask such a thing," he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, his pointed teeth nipping at the shell of your ear, then moving down to tug on the lobe. "Perhaps I should give you a lesson in proper etiquette, hm?" Alastor mused, rolling his bare hips against yours, sending shivers up and down your spine, not missing the flash of panic in your eyes when his words finally registered in your brain.

'Shit. Shit, shit, shit- fucking hell, fuck my life!' you thought, trying to reel yourself back in and failing miserably. If this 'lesson' of his was anything like the punishment he had doled out earlier, you knew you were in for a rough night - one that would leave you physically incapable of walking out of his room come morning. "No- ...! Al, no, no... i-it was just a slip of the tongue, I swear!" your pleas had no effect on him though, his lips ghosting over the carotid artery in your neck, then over your collar bone and traveling further down to your breasts. "I'm sorry, please- ...!" you spoke, only to be interrupted by Alastor's stern gaze, looking up at you as he placed butterfly kisses to your bare chest and his teeth grazed over your erect nipple. "I know you are, dear," Alastor started, kissing further down your diaphragm to your navel, not breaking eye contact for even a millisecond. "But if 'sorry' fixed everything, there would be no hell, no demons, and we most definitely would not be in this hotel," he smirked wickedly, knowing that you couldn't argue with the point he had just made - your silence proved as much.

Alastor continued to move south, soon reaching the delicious mound between your thighs, never once thinking it would be this fun, this intoxicating. But, as much as he wanted to devour you and everything you had to offer him, he was on a self-imposed mission now and couldn't let himself get distracted. He would have the chance to indulge himself in a few short moments, anyway. Heated breath fanning over your soaked core, Alastor lightly kissed and nipped at the insides of your thighs, past your knees and down your calves - stopping momentarily for a taste of your blood that was still seeping from your self-inflicted wound. He groaned as the taste of copper coated his tongue, one hand wrapping around your ankle, deft digits unclasping the strap of your heel - repeating the process with the other and discarding both seconds later.

Sighing in defeat, you wiggled your newly freed toes while Alastor began to kiss his way back up your body until he was face to face with you again. "W-well then... what would this lesson entail, exactly?" you asked nervously, resigning yourself over to your fate as you tried to sift through your mixed emotions, unable to differentiate your anxiety from your excitement for the coming lesson. "Ah, ah, ah - patience, my dear," Alastor chuckled darkly at your question, not bothering to answer it as he roughly pressed his lips to yours and pinched one of your pert nipples. "Mmph-phh!" you whined, your body flinching at the pain his digits were causing as he twisted the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Alastor pulled back, his teeth dragging your bottom lip with him as far as it would go - releasing it and your pebbled nipple simultaneously a few seconds later.

"On your knees."

Gulping audibly, you moved to sit up and reposition yourself in the center of his bed, eager yet a bit fearful of what he had in store. "O-okay... now what?" Alastor didn't answer your question at first, his figure evaporating into a cloud of black smoke only to reform in the space behind you. You couldn't see what he was doing, feeling the bed shift with his every move, causing your heart to race as you did your best to wait patiently for whatever it was that he had planned. "Now, we're going to play a little game, love," Alastor whispered in your ear, using his knee to force your legs further apart, tracing his lips down the rigid vertebrae of your spine. He placed one final kiss at the small of your back, eventually moving to lie flat on his own and scooting upwards until his face was between your thighs.

Looking down when you felt his antlers scrape across your sensitive skin, you had to cover your mouth with both hands to stile a laugh. "Alastor, what are you doing?" you asked, not expecting to have seen just his head in this position nor the uncharacteristic look of innocence he was giving you - a stark contrast to his previous display of dominance moments ago. "I told you already - we're going to play a game, one that will teach you some proper manners," Alastor explained despite knowing that your question was rhetorical - he knew it must have been an amusing sight, to look down and see his face when you were likely expecting him to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he took you in every which way he pleased. He still intended to do exactly that, but not before you finished this game he just now concocted. Hands latching on to your hips, Alastor pulled your lower body down until you could feel his breath against your warmth each time he exhaled, that devilish silver tongue of his licking a single long stripe from your opening up and over your clit, then back down again.

"The rules are simple enough," Alastor began to explain, hands drifting down from your hips to the tops of your thighs and squeezing lightly. "I'll go easy on you, my darling doe. All you have to do is name five basic etiquette rules. If you stop talking, I stop," he paused mid-sentence to lick another stripe up your slick folds, "if you slow down, I slow down," another pause, this time flicking the tip of his tongue over the pink nub in between. "And if you cum before reciting them to me, trust that I won't let you cum again tonight," he promised, smile wide and wicked, a mischievous laugh following his words. You broke out into a cold sweat as he explained, your nerves kicking into overdrive as you tried to remember what the rules were. Most of them were common courtesy and usually taught to everyone during childhood, but with your mind so clouded with lust, you couldn't think of a single one. On the bright side, at least he only wanted you to name five.

"A-and... what if I can't recite any of these rules?" you asked sheepishly, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back your mewls when he dipped his tongue inside your plush walls and swirled all around them, retreating soon after and returning to your clit. He pulled back just enough to speak, inhaling your sweet scent and fighting back the urge to dive right back in - rules be damned. "Hmm... I'll give you one hint. After that, well... You're on your own. Use it wisely, my dear," his voice trailed off, eyes glowing a bright red as you stared at each other.

"Now, shall we begin, my sweet?"

Fuck, this was going to be hard. How the fuck were you supposed to think and form coherent sentences when his ministrations were lighting every single nerve in your body on fire? And you hadn't even begun yet! Alastor was awaiting your signal to start, anticipation and impatience gnawing away at his self-control. "Ooohhh- ohh-kaah- aay-! Let's staa-hahh- arrrt-!" you cried, trying to focus your mind so that you could begin. "Wonderful," he responded shortly before diving back in for another taste of your honey sweet essence. He started by poking and prodding at your slick entrance, then moved up to suck on your clit as you moaned softly with each suckle, each flick over the small cluster of nerves. He could see the gears turning in that pretty little head of yours, trying to find the words to recite the first rule of basic etiquette.

"O-okay, uhm... fuck," you whispered. "One rule is- so the first rule, I mean- nnghh!" a harsh suckle from Alastor was making it hard for you to focus on anything except the pleasure he was giving you. "A-always be respectful to others-!" With one rule down, you heard Alastor hum softly into your heated flesh, gasping loudly when he opened his mouth wider and pressed his tongue flat against your delicious mound, making long, firm strokes. "Aaahh-! Another rule i-is... shit, another rule is- ... is, be punctual- hahh! Let someone k-know if you're going to be- fuck! -To be late!" Rule number two, done; three to go. You tried to keep talking, even if it was just a bunch of babbling nonsense. You didn't want him to slow down or stop, but as the coil in your belly tightened rapidly and threatened to snap at any second, you recalled the third rule he had given you:

'And f you cum before reciting them to me, trust that I won't let you cum again tonight.'

Those words rang in your ears as you reluctantly closed your mouth and forced yourself to stop talking, trying to cool yourself off and push back your orgasm. Alastor wasn't pleased by this, but he was the one that set the rules, so he obeyed - stopping his movements and glaring up at you, his nails digging into the fat of your thighs as a warning not to test his already too thin patience. "Go on," he urged you, his right hand retreating from your leg to travel down his own body to his painfully erect cock, precum dripping from his slit and rolling down the length of it to soak the patch of neatly groomed crimson hair at his base. Swallowing hard, you nodded your head and opened your mouth to continue speaking even though you had not yet come down completely. "A-ask for permission, an-nnnghh-! And uhmm- oh fuck! Fuck, c-cover your mouth when you... when you sneeze, or cough- oh my god!" you recited rule number three and four in quick succession, your hands shooting down to twist and tug at his magnificently opulent head of red and black hair, eventually moving to wrap around the base of his antlers, looking for something to ground yourself as you tried to think of one final rule.

"You're doing well, Mon Amour. One more, and then you can let go," Alastor promised you, lazily stroking his hardened length in an effort to alleviate some of the pain, a bead of pre rolling down the length of it and mixing with your combined essences in the space between his shaft and balls. A soft whine escaped his throat when he tightened his grip and began to pump himself with a little more vigor, drool mixed with the delicious nectar spilling from your core trickling down the sides of his face and coating his chin. "Come now, don't keep me waiting. You can do it," he mumbled against your flesh, waiting for you to begin speaking again.

Alastor continued to pump his shaft, gradually gaining speed as you remained silent, panting hard and squeezing his antlers even harder, struggling to fight back your release long enough to finish the game. But the sight beneath you was one to behold, indeed - you couldn't bring yourself down even a smidgen as you admired the way the soft light shone on his disheveled hair, how his hooded eyes spoke volumes on what he was feeling, new branches forming and growing from the main roots of his antlers as control began to slip from his fingertips once more. And just as you stared at him, he stared back. His own eyes traveled from your blissed out expression, pupils blown wide with lust, to the bite marks and hickeys scattered across your neck and collarbone, and further down to the curve of your supple breasts heaving as you tried to catch your breath before you continued. "My sweet doe, please..." Now he was the one that was begging, voice thick with seduction and desperation. Had you not been so close to your peak, you would have taken full advantage of the opportunity to dominate him this time around.

You watched him for a couple seconds, listening as his breathing became more ragged and the slick sounds of his hand rapidly pumping his shaft grew louder and louder. Moans soon replaced his huffs and gasps as he pushed himself closer to his climax, almost foregoing his own game and devouring your sweet little cunt as he chased his high - but no. He persevered, pinching his tip suddenly to push back his own release in favor of hearing the last rule he so eagerly waited for you to speak. He didn't have to wait for long, as you finally felt comfortable enough to open your mouth and continue speaking, pressing your drenched core down and grinding slow, harsh circles on his mouth. "A-and the last rule- nnghh oh fuck me, just like that-!" you whispered, grip tightening around his antlers as Alastor growled against your ambrosian heat, his left hand moving down to join the other by cupping his aching balls, kneading and rolling them between his digits, slurping messily and sucking harshly on your clit as he came closer and closer to his release.

"The last rule i-is- hahhh-! A-always... always say please and thank you!" you finished, closing your eyes and throwing your head bad in ecstasy, your hips gyrating, desperately chasing that breath-takingly, blissful release. "Oh my god, fuck- thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank youuu-ahh! Please, keep going, Al-!" you cried as the blinding, white hot euphoria crashed into you at long last, tremors wracking your entire body as you rode out your high, your essence pouring from your cunt and down Alastor's throat, eliciting a graphic, drawn out groan as he vigorously pumped away at his cock - too far gone to care that you had broken the golden rule by looking away from him. Not wanting to cum just yet, Alastor retracted his hands from his aching shaft and grabbed hold of your waist, lifting you slightly to slip out from beneath you.

"You're so good for me! So good," Alastor murmured as he moved to sit on his knees behind you, pushing your body forward until you were on your hands and knees. Grabbing hold of your hips and dragging you closer to him, he didn't waste any time as he guided his throbbing member to your quivering hole, your juices making it easy for him to slip inside with minimal resistance. Setting a brutal pace almost instantly, Alastor held you by the hips as you lowered your upper body until your face was pressed against the heavy duvet, your hands clenching the thick fabric as Alastor pounded away at your overstimulated pussy, his balls slapping loudly against your clit as your walls clamped down on his engorged cock. "Hah- A-Ah! Ala- fuck, yes, just like that! Please don't stop, please don't stop, don't stop!" you babbled, your voice muffled by the blanket as you closed your eyes tightly, riding the aftershocks while he used you for his own gratification.

"Fuuuhh-ckkk!" you barely heard Alastor curse, his voice almost completely drowned out by the rhythmic 'pap! pap! pap!' sound of skin on skin, his thrusts becoming more animalistic with every slap, every plea you cried than bounced off the walls and invaded his senses. His eyes traveled down the length of your arched spine, watching as ripples were sent through the fat of your ass each time his hips made contact, his cock sliding against your pliant walls with ease, his tip bullying your cervix. "Hah! Hah! Fuh- ... uhah! Ala- ... Hah! Ah!" you practically screamed, his thrusts interrupting any attempts to say his name each time he plowed forward.

"Take it, take it, fucking take it- fuck!"

[ Master Post ] ❀ [ Chapter One ] ❀ [ Chapter Two ] ❀ [ Chapter Three ] ❀ [ Chapter Four ] ❀ [ Chapter Five ] Chapter Four Coming Soon~!

[bloodiedrogue]

BLEED YOU DRY (1)

SUMMARY: When you awake to find Astarion attempting to drink your blood, you find yourself making a interesting decision.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 3,273

WARNINGS: Bloodsucking, that's about it?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I'm aware I'm way ahead of schedule for this Haunted Hoedown thing but I'm going to be gone for a few days in the middle of it so I figured I'd get a headstart now to make sure I get every day done but also to build the hype? Maybe?

Basically this is going to be a little twelve part miniseries based on prompts from this writing challenge. I'll make a masterpost either tonight or tomorrow with all the ones I chose, plus some other stuff, so you guys know what's going on!

The prompt for this particular day was "I want to watch you bleed."

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The squirming tadpole behind your eye is what wakes you up. Its constant movement, wriggling from edge to edge quickly prompts you to groan and palm your eye, attempting to suppress the feeling as you blink through the darkness. It takes a moment to adjust —to feel that twitch of the creature die down— and when it does there’s a sigh of satisfaction that leaves your lips.

Despite how long it’s been, you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the fact that you have a parasite living inside your mind. Even after experiencing the insertion firsthand, you often forget it’s there, looming behind your retinas, awaiting use every time you run into another. Normally it’s so still, barely inching out of place; sitting there, incubating within your thoughts. Tonight though, something’s urging its presence. Keeping it awake as you close your eyes again, scrunching up your face once it moves a second time.

Angrily, you sit up and turn your head, suddenly catching Astarion’s gaze, noticing the open-mouthed grin he offers in response. 

“Shit.”

You narrow your eyes, focusing on his teeth. How bared they are; ready to strike at a moment's notice despite the only food lying around being you. “Were you just about to bite me?” you ask and almost immediately he attempts to play it off as if it were nothing, scoffing and rolling his eyes. 

“I wasn’t going to hurt you if that’s what you’re insinuating. I was only going for a nibble.” 

You can feel your tadpole squirm. He’s telling the truth, albeit for reasons that are more selfish than he lets on. Despite seeming otherwise, he only wants to drink from you for strength —for energy. His desire to kill you is minuscule, lingering in the shadows of his mind for a potentially later day but surprisingly such notions don’t scare you. Astarion may be a bloodthirsty creature but for now, he’s an ally.

“And you didn’t think to just ask first?” You raise a brow at him, watching his expression twist into something bordering between confusion and interest. 

“I’m sorry, just ask?” he parrots, exploring your features and how they remain calm despite the context.  

He was expecting you to be angry. To throw some kind of fit and deny. It’s what any normal person would do, but considering the circumstances, offering up a little blood to build up the strength of someone on the same side is worth more than the annoyance that forms across your face. 

“Yes, like a normal person,” you chastise, taking in the scowl he offers in response. 

His brows furrow at the sound of your words, angling upwards to appear as sinister as possible, and you can’t help but snort. Something about his constant disapproval is almost humorous at this point.

“Normal? Darling, I’m a creature of the night. A blood sucking fiend. A—“

“Vampire, yes, we’re all well aware given the teeth.” You poke at your own canine, tapping the enamel with open lips just as he swallows hard and narrows his eyes. 

“Yes, well, obviously considering such details I thought it inappropriate to ask. People don’t typically agree to such perilous sounding terms,” he says, voice light and airy. Casual, you might say, despite the context. 

“So instead you were just going to go for it?” You raise your brow, a smirk playing across your lips as he rolls his eyes. 

“Seemed like the best possible option… at the time.” 

You offer him a quiet ah, nodding your head as the two of you remain still, watching each other. Trying to gauge how the other is feeling without the use of your tadpoles. 

Based on what you know about Astarion you assume he’s too stubborn to ask. Now that he’s caught, regardless of whether or not he needs the blood, he’ll never find himself in a position to be desperate enough to say those simple little words. Being a man of persuasion, he’ll most likely just talk his way into it —make it seem like the whole thing was your idea in the first place before diving right in. 

It’d be respectable if you weren’t the victim. If it were Wyll or Gale and you were to bear witness to his deceptions, you’d fully support it. Encourage it even if he were to ask your opinion.

Since it’s you though, you can’t help but feel a bit frustrated. Astarion and you have never been particularly friendly. Having only been around each other for a few weeks, all you’ve talked about is the Illithid and how you plan to get rid of it —what you’ll do after it’s gone. But even the latter conversations hardly spark specific details. Mostly they’re just brief mentions of wanting to run away. To become hidden after the war is over. 

You assume someone’s looking for him based on the way he speaks and carries himself. When you’re on the move he hides within the pack, using you all as a shield while he looks around. Always on high alert, his ears twitch at any foreign sound, his eyes dart to meet the faces of anyone you may come across. At night, he’s always the one to keep watch and over time you’ve come to realize it isn’t just because he doesn’t sleep. It’s because he’s looking for someone. 

Even now, as he stands above you, you can see his eyes looking past you to focus on the underbrush. The way they narrow with focus, pushing past your face. He can sense something that you can’t —feel the eyes of some foreign presence staring at the two of you. 

You’re tempted to use the tadpole to find out what exactly it is but quickly refrain once you hear the shuffling of branches behind you followed by Astarion’s breath of relief. 

“You alright?”

His eyes shut for a split second. His chest heaves a single breath and in that moment you’re struck with an odd sense of sympathy. The feeling of pity laces throughout your thoughts as you imagine Astarion’s life before all of this. You imagine it isn’t great. Considering he’s a vampire, there’s probably at least an inkling of trauma there after living, dying and coming back as something other than yourself. No sane person would be the same after that, especially when taking into account all the symptoms. Before his transition, he could do mundane things. Enjoy the pleasantries of life like the sun and sleeping and food. 

Nowadays, all it seems he craves is blood and power. Flesh of whatever he can get his greedy little hands on. The upper hand in any possible argument. Both make what Astarion is on the surface, but looking at him now, wondering what else lies behind that thick, defensive coat of first impressions, you know there are other things. Nicer ones he refuses to showcase. 

They’re the details of his life before everything. Traits reserved only for himself, and for some uncharacteristic reason, you’re tempted to find out what they are. 

“If you need to…” Trailing off, you feel your stomach twist at the realization of what you’re about to offer. The consequences are high, maybe even too high, but perhaps the benefits could be deemed higher. At this point, you’re certain no one else will give him what he needs. They’re all too noble or guarded to allow Astarion, regardless of his current allegiance, to drink. 

They don’t trust him. And even though you find yourself in the same boat, feeling the skepticism of your words start to echo in the back of your mind, you know it’s the most logical thing to do. Sure, it may not be the right one. By a long shot, it’s probably one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had, but you know deep down that it’s necessary for your survival. To ensure that, when all this blows over and the potential of you going your separate ways occurs, Astarion doesn’t view you as an enemy.

“If you need to drink, you can.” 

His eyes widen only a bit. Just enough for you to notice the slight shock that spreads across his features. “I can?” 

There’s a reluctance you feel begin to bubble up but instead of acting on it you merely shut it down, nodding your head. “Yes, but only a little. Don’t want you bleeding me dry before this whole thing is all over.” 

Somehow that makes him laugh. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.” 

You force yourself not to smirk as he lies through his teeth. Knowing him, he’d suck you dry if it weren’t for the fact that there’s safety in numbers. “Unfortunately for me this isn’t a dream.” 

“Fair point,” he replies, taking a short step forward. After that he slowly begins to crouch towards the ground, watching you closely —focusing on the rise and fall of your chest as his face falls mere inches from yours. “For now though, I promise to do no such thing.”

“And you’re certain you’ll keep it?”  

He hums, a grin pulling at his cheeks. “For now,” he muses. “In the future though…”

He’s so close you can feel his breath. Hot and heavy puffs pushed through a low, far too sultry tone of voice that has you pressing your lips together in a thin line. 

Out of everyone, Astarion’s always been the most intriguing. The one you’ve had this constant back and forth with, debating whether or not to approach or run. Aside from the obvious vampirism, it’s quite obvious that he isn’t like the others. From what you’ve been able to piece together, he doesn’t have a cause. A God or some sort of leader he’s willing to lay down the law for. He’s not noble like Wyll or faithful like Shadowheart. He’s just Astarion. A bloodied wolf all by his lonesome, following the rest of the pack. 

You’re sure he has desires like the rest of them. Wants and needs that’ll inevitably be gifted to him at the end of this —so long as you all survive. Like everyone else, he has a purpose in mind, but what that purpose is is unbeknownst to you thanks to the charm he offers in replacement of the truth. Because of this, he feels almost like a treasure chest. A trove of untold riches kneeling before you, tempting you to open. 

“I’m sure the future will have us far enough away from each other where that doesn’t happen, so I won’t worry.” 

Almost immediately, he can tell you’re fishing for information. The way his brow slightly upturns and the flirtatious grin across his face transitions into more of a smirk. It makes you internally curse, knowing that no matter how hard you try you’ll never beat him at his own game. His way with words is too precise. Too calculated, even for someone like you who grew up convincing people of your lies. 

“You never know. Perhaps after this is all over I’ll follow you. Linger amongst the shadows until the time is right.” 

You can’t tell if he’s kidding. His voice is too convincing to be completely certain, so you merely roll your eyes. “Yes, well, if you do decide to drink me to death, be sure to make it quick.” 

He clicks his tongue, leaning slightly further in. “What would be the fun in that though?”

There’s an unfamiliar ache inside your chest. A rupture of pain that wreaks havoc against your ribcage, pounding. Now that he’s close to you, you can assume it’s always been there but because he’s so good at posing a distraction you weren’t fully aware of it until now. 

“Fair point,” you repeat his words back to him, deeply inhaling just as the tadpole suddenly shifts in tandem with your chest. Ebbing and flowing across your inner eye in time with your shaky breath, you notice Astarion pick up on it, humming knowingly. 

“You fear me, don’t you?” 

Despite the answer being blatantly obvious, your lips remained sealed. Closed off, regardless of the truths the rest of your body spills. 

“It’s quite alright, darling. It’s normal. Creatures of the night are hardly meant to be trifled with.” 

He’s in your face now, a mere hair’s length away, once again baring his teeth. Against your lips, you can feel the movement of his words pushing through the air, coating you in further reluctance as the withheld breath inside you finally releases. As it hits his face, he blinks and pulls away. Ever so slightly giving you the space you need to recollect your thoughts and swallow back the fear. 

He’s terrifying. Even you have to admit that. Unlike Lae’zel he’s more calculated in his intimidation, opting to pull you in —to make you feel comfortable— before he ultimately strikes. Because of this, his threats feel more authentic. Less like simple tactics used to get you to back off. They aren’t words of warning —they’re promises. Declarations of a moment he’s more than willing to make a reality if given the chance.

“Do you want my blood or not, Astarion?”

Your patience is thin. Your chest is in pain and while the tadpole inside unwittingly reaches out to his, driving you both closer as he instructs you to lie back down and get comfortable, all you can feel is temptation. Desire. 

Upon resting your head, you feel the connection between you grow stronger. Inside, your head flashes with icy sensations that trickle down towards your neck. Small tremors of what’s to come as Astarion positions himself around you. 

When he leans down, there’s a moment where you think of retracting. This is all too sudden, you think. A mistake made in hopes of gaining the upper hand. Just moments ago you were made unaware of the full potential of Astarion’s charms, but now that you’re lying beneath him, awaiting the moment he sinks his teeth into your flesh, you can feel the regret begin to build.

“It won’t last.”

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you look to see him staring over top of you. Both of his arms are planted on either side of your head, bending at the elbow so that he’s low and close. “I’m sorry?”

“The pain. It won’t last long, I promise.”

Strangely enough, he sounds sincere. Not that that means much when a good portion of the words that exit his lips are lies. Still though, instead of returning to that previous headspace you merely breathe and nod, waiting for the moment the tadpole’s connection vibrates with confirmation and Astarion begins to lean in. 

It’s a slow process. Above you, his shoulders shift, pushing his arm to cup the back of your head and expose your neck. Against your skull, Astarion tightens his grip to steady the endless thoughts that race through your mind as you share a glance. It’s small but important. A moment of recognition that tonight is not the night you die at his hand, but merely a preview of what might come if your paths wrongfully cross. 

At the last second, you give him a curt nod and feel him dip, running the tip of his tongue along your jugular before the presence of teeth poke holes through your flesh. At first, it's painful. The blood that’s sucked through your veins pulsates through the open wound in stinging waves as you feign a soft groan. Then Astarion’s grip around your head tightens at the sound, pushing you further into his mouth. Further into the euphoria he takes as the feeling transcends into something numbingly cold. 

Your eyes flutter shut at his continued feed. The feeling in your hands begins to fade even as you somehow find them moving to Astarion’s back, one of them pressing against his shoulder, the other finding purchase in his locks. At that point, you can feel Astarion moan against you, desperation filling his every cell as his teeth shift further into your neck, prompting your eyes to shoot open. 

He’s going to kill you at this rate. To drink you drier than an insect's husk, so, through half-conscious pushes, you tell him to stop. To let go and to keep his promise as you grip the roots of his hair and pull. 

As it happens you see his eyes shift to yours. They’re blown out completely, the whites of his eyes stained red to match his ruby pupils. For a moment, they remain locked to your half-lidded ones, honing in on the way they start to flutter again before you see them tightly close. Then he finds himself ripping away and gasping for air. Coughing through the thick blood that coats his tongue as he stares down at your neck.

The wound is only slightly gaping. Two well-defined puncture wounds sit side by side, but at the moment you can’t feel them. Instead, there’s still only numbness. A space of nothing that lingers between your head and chest, making you shift to sit up and place your hand there, finding more blood. 

“See? Over before you know it, right?” He laughs but all you do is glare. 

“You almost killed me.”

“Ah, yes, but notice the key word being almost.” 

If you weren’t so heavy-headed you’d punch him in the throat. Maybe strangle him if you could get the right angle. “Yes, fine, you’ve had your fun. Now, do you need anything else or am I fine to pass out now?” 

You expect him to say something else. To make some quip about the safety measures of post-bloodsucking, but he doesn’t. Instead, he merely inches closer, staring at you as he reaches for your bloodied hand and pulls it close. 

Once again, your tadpole wriggles against your will. Throughout your skull, it practically dances as Astarion glances down, taking two of your fingers into his mouth with careful precision. If anyone were to see they’d most likely faint at the mere lewdness of it. Frozen in time, your body refuses to move as he laps the blood off your skin, staring at you through hooded eyes that make you want to scream.

You’ve never been in this kind of position before. Sure, you’ve experienced many kinds of intimacy, both sexual and not, but somehow this feels different. Forbidden, in a sense. As if sharing this moment is not only wrong but also against some sort of ethical code. 

At first, you wonder if it’s because blood isn’t necessarily something that’s given. Always taken. In battle, it’s ripped from your skin through the means of injury. Punctured or sliced out of you at the hands of a sword. No bond goes along with it. No mutual agreement that any life will remain once the deed is over. 

But then you begin to think of Astarion. The elven vampire now infected with the Illithid. Like you, he’s been changed. Subtly shifted into something new. Overall, your transformation isn’t nearly as different as his. Before the infection, you could still enjoy the pleasantries of being human, but still, there’s this connection that draws you towards him. It makes its presence known within the tadpole. Throughout the movements that echo in your minds as Astarion cleans the last of the blood away, looking at you with soft eyes.

“I consider this a gift, you know,” he says, dropping your hand, and moving away to stand without so much as a thought. 

You blink back your confusion, trying your best to focus on the genuine-looking smile that appears as he takes a few steps backwards, never breaking eye contact until he telepathically adds I won’t forget it then stalks away. 

[gauntletqueen]

When a non-horror game has a horror section, I often find it a little more effective or memorable than a full-on horror title's horror, in a way. I think that's because, for characters in fiction, they usually don't know they're about to experience a horror story, so they aren't mentally prepared at all. As the audience, we know that when we boot up Silent Hill, we're gonna see some scary stuff and can mentally prepare accordingly. But when some innocuous children's platformer or RPG or whatever suddenly throws genuine horror elements at me, I'm taken out of my comfort zone much more roughly since I don't expect it at all. I think that's neat :>

[nocek]

Day in life of Miguel O'Hara, one unlucky bastard.

[saccharinescorpion]

Eleanor Vance should NOT have been at the club (she should have been at her little cottage with her white cat and her oleanders) (and her stone lions) (and her cup of stars)