#I wanted to draw this scene so badly so...here it is.

[demaparbat-hp]

The Painted Lady stared at Zuko, eyes wild in deep focus, and sank into her knees next to him. Her pale, scarred hand reached out to meet him, but stopped short before making contact. Her voice was soothing and gentle as she asked, “Is that what you truly believe?”

Sometimes, it feels as if Izumi knows Zuko better than anyone else.

For our confidants and spirits (and those who are one and the same) is For the Spirits Chapter VI: Dream of You.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

okay. i caved

(individual versions under the cut!)

i had SO much fun rendering their skin tbh

[zecoritheweirdone]

me when i think about vagabonds by scorpionoesit for too long

[ddeonghwa-s]

moonlight greed .ᐟ.ᐟ

wonwoo, standing in the moonlight, admiring you; his sleeping stepsister.

꒰୨୧꒱— jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

꒰୨୧꒱— wc is approx. 1.2k

꒰୨୧꒱— genre : smut (mdni)

꒰୨୧꒱— cw : male masturbation, perversion

꒰୨୧꒱— tw : stepcest, somnophilia, morally questionable (arguably fucked) and perverted wonwoo, half-naked reader

꒰୨୧꒱— notes : in this fic wonwoo is fucked! pls know this behavior is not anything i condone or actually associate with wonwoo :)

it's a little after midnight when wonwoo finally eases your bedroom door all the way open.

your room is, of course, dark. he can't see the papers that undoubtedly litter the desk he put together for you; can't see the details of the posters you had stuck against the popcorn walls in an attempt to inject your personality into the room.

wonwoo had objected to some of the posters at first. the prints of pink tulips and baby blue bows and kittens; it was all too much for wonwoo, whose own room was a classic combination of black, grey, and black.

but he'd do anything for you, just like a good stepbrother would.

and this is how he justifies sneaking into your bedroom in the middle of the night.

your room is dark, but the faintest sliver of silver moonlight peers through the curtains. it doesn't help a lot — doesn't allow wonwoo to see the fine details of things — but it helps just enough.

luck is, wonwoo thinks, on his side in that case.

the silver light lets wonwoo eye your sleeping figure greedily. he is able to make out the shape of your body, the line of it against your bed. you had discarded most of your blanket, too hot to be burrowed underneath it as you usually were — no thanks to luck this time; wonwoo had thumbed the thermostat to a higher temperature during your nightly shower. your blanket lay against your hips, hiding your legs from his sight.

your blanket does not hide the rest of you.

wonwoo can see the line of your torso and head. he can see your sleeping face turned towards the ceiling; your hand tucked rather awkwardly, in wonwoo's opinion, behind your back;

your tits, deliciously illuminated by that beautiful silver moonlight.

you had, whether consciously or in your sleep, rucked your tank top up over your tits. it conceals half of one of them, does nothing to hide the other. and so wonwoo can stare all his fill. l

your nipples are not perked at attention, the temperature of the room warm enough to soothe your skin from any gooseflesh, to keep your nipples from hardening. your tits are pressed against your body from gravity, a stark picture from one of the scenes that constantly replay in wonwoo's mind of you bending over in a low-cut shirt that allowed him to feast on your tits as they hung, gravity perfectly showing the full bulge of them for his depraved, perverted mind.

still: wonwoo feels the blood pool at his gut, feels his cock harden and balls tug in his joggers.

you are asleep. you feel safe, here in wonwoo's apartment — your safety, as a matter of fact, was the number one reason why your father pushed for you to move in with wonwoo; you'd be safe here, your father had said; wonwoo would protect you.

and here he was, sliipping his hand down over his thickening bulge, palming at the base of his dick through his joggers.

you are safe, wonwoo thinks as he watches your tits rise and fall with every breath you take. you are safe in his home from the harsh elements of outside, from rain or thunder or wind, from opportunists and scums who would take advantage of you.

the silver light bathes you; your face is calm, devoting itself to the peaceful world you slumber in.

wonwoo slips his hand underneath the tight band of his joggers. his dick, when he touches it, jumps in his hand. he wants to fuck something, wants it so badly.

wonwoo draws his hand along the length of his cock, thumb trailing. he fists the head of his cock, eyes greedily roaming over your tits, sliding over your stomach.

he digs his thumb into his sensitive cockhead. wonwoo winces at the pleasure-pain that shoots through him at the sensation, tightening his fist around his dick, chasing that pain further.

wonwoo's balls are tight against him as he begins to fuck his fist. he was brisk with it, no finesse; he wants to cum, wants to feel that electric bubble of heat burst within him.

it would be better, wonwoo thinks fleetingly, if he could cum in your tight little pussy.

because he knows it would be tight; that your cunt would be hot and wet.

every part of you is perfect, so that, too, wonwoo logically surmised, would be heaven.

even this, wonwoo thinks as he stands in the entry way of your bedroom with you sound asleep with your tits on display, is a piece of heaven. he's allowed to look and look without distraction, and fuck —

if he doesn't look.

wonwoo doesn't fuck his hips to his hand, instead bringing his fist back to strike against his groin, the dull slapping sound of skin against skin, fist against groin, filling the quiet room. 

his balls throb; his dick hurts. 

wonwoo wants to cum so badly. he wants to watch his cum shoot out and stain your skin. he wants to watch his cum paint the walls of your cunt, watch it ooze from your cute little hole and drip down onto the bed. wonwoo would love to see his cum on your face, too; love to see it shoot across your lips and nose and cheeks, see your face of surprise. 

he thinks about it, eyes straining through the darkness to focus on your nipples, to memorize the shape of them in the hope of imagining his lips around them later. wonwoo thinks about you on your knees in front of him, eyes squeezing shut, mouth open and tongue stuck out with his white cum pearling so beautifully. 

wonwoo cums into his pants with a grunt. the wetness of it makes his joggers stick uncomfortably. his dick feels horribly sensitive as he walks from your room with his cock still tucked inside. 

he goes to the thermostat; lowers it. 

wonwoo moves to his room. he switches on the light, knowing his sweet thoughts don't deserve to take root in the darkness. 

he grabs one of his blankets off of his bed, shaking it out. 

with his pants still sticking to him from his cum, wonwoo moves back to your room. the air conditioning kicks on, and he can feel the draft almost immediately, the skin on his arms pebbling. 

he doesn't bother being quiet. 

wonwoo edges around your bed, hands finding the corners of the blanket. he fluffs it out, draping it over your form, concealing your tits from his eyes. 

you furrow your brows. your eyes flutter open, lips pressed into a pout with the soft anger of an angel being disrupted from sleep. 

"turned down the ac," he says, tucking the blanket around your shoulders. wonwoo continues to press the blanket underneath your frame, pushing it snugly to your form. "you'll be cold."

you smile at him, shifting in your bed. "thanks, wonie," you mumble, eyes already shutting. 

wonwoo shuts your bedroom door behind him, closing you and the silver light behind him, protecting you once again.

[rhonuscorner]

What would you do if one night, you're suddenly awoken by a horrible sound and you quickly find yourself face to face with not only a strange vessel that seemingly crash-landed into your backyard, but also two strange extra-terrestial beings, one of which is badly injured?

The beginning premise of my AU, Dark Matter!

Ya'll better look at this because this took me SO MANY HOURS and over 200 layers, minimum. I didn't keep count but it's a lot. Also let's not pretend I know how to draw a spaceship lmao, and I spent way too long drawing grass only for it to be barely visible XD;

Also yes, their blood is a golden color.

I had a really hard time getting Sun's inner glow to look right, Moon is easy but because Sun is yellow it's very difficult to not make it look muddied in a night time scene, but it's almost 2AM here and I didn't want to fiddle with this anymore. I'M TIRED.

Poor scared Sunny, it'll be okay and so will Moon. Probably >3 Y/n is gonna have their hands full dealing with this.

I'm still working on chapters and I wanna do a pic of their planet next because it's very pretty and I wanna go there, but in the meantime if you have any questions regarding this AU, feel free to send them my way. ^-^

[o-sunny-day]

@forgettable-au FAN ANIMATION ! LOUD NOISE WARNING!

*What was it all for…?

Song: Vishnu <3 by Peter Cat Recording Co.

…okay.

The main inspiration for this…can be summed up with I LOVE HOW SAD THIS CONCEPT IS. BUT i also adore how WEIRD it is.

This whole thing must be pretty weird and creepy for the characters right??? Like- we dont know for certain what EXACTLY is gonna happen, but we know for a fact that Wingdings finds out hes in a game, then kills himself so he can be closer with god-

THATS PRETTY WEIRD 😭😭 also sad but we can ignore that for now

I also experimented a tad with this in working with silence, so timing things at my own pace! It was really hard! I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!!

But, time for my FAVORITE PART….ANALYSIS!!!

DISCLAIMER: some things stated as fact haven’t been said in the blog/arent canon to the au itself, just my animation/theories/interpretation, cause i’m silly and headcanoning :3

TITLE:

The proper title ive given this is “To You” which means 2 different and very vague things. What happened to you? and sending a message like “this is To You”.

In that case, “you” is whichever version of Papyrus/Wingdings/Gaster you want- Its not exactly clear which version of him means “you” which is kinda the point. The lines blur together sometimes…

But yeah, Gaster/crazy WD sends messages TOO himself so they’re “To You”

CONTEXT

Wingdings has JUST turned himself into Gaster. Ignore how impossible Sans interacting with him in this moment is, and just hear me out on the angst possibilities-

SCENE 1

As Sans approaches the mess- Gaster is encased in shadow, and looks at him. Expression not telling much- just looking blankly. Doesn’t even look like he’s alive… just… moving. Also the eye thats open, is just a slit. because- perspective. BUT I also had fun putting that there and going hehehehe it looks like WD/Papyrus’ eye

Sans approaches, and getting engulfed in the shadow, leaving the light.

His expression here was REALLY fun and REALLY hard to draw. Angry? maybe. stunned and terrified? DEFINITELY.

In this context (that doesn’t have a lot to go off of with the comics, YET) Sans knows that this was all very much intentional. He absolutely does not want to be angry, and is certainly only feeling it subconsciously.

But… he wanted so badly to understand, and enter his brother world. But now, Sans is just… Baffled. Hes like “what the fuck did you do???”

SCENE 2

Gaster continues to look blank. Looking up at Sans as he approaches, encasing him in even more shadow.

Sans’ hand reaches to Gasters face. From Sans’ perspective, his intentions are like checking for a pulse. Not literally ofc cause pulses arent on our face- but like, feeling for him. For a sign that something is there. (It’s also meant to be something motherly/comforting)

But then, Gaster leans into the touch, somewhat reciprocating this wordless “ive got you” gesture. That’s what makes Sans go from Terrified to just purely grief stricken. His brother is still alive. And he loves him.

But this form wont last for long…For universe fixing screw ups reasons :D 👍

SCENE 3

Gaster then opens his eyes, revealing hes even still got eye lights available for him. Thats what just SHATTERS the dam, and Sans embraces him suddenly.

SCENE(S) 4

Then, the “reset” happens, Gaster is gone, and Papyrus appears in place of Wingdings in his bed.

Nothing is boiling to add to a “frozen in terror” feeling!

Now- drawing all of the differences between the past and present rooms. DESTROYED ME. i HAD SO MUCH FUN BUT I ALSO CRIED 😭 There are no thank-you letters to santa, no racecar bed, no silly bone painting, no action figures, just BORING

I also wanted to keep everything monochromatic, so ofc we’ve got black and white for the void/Gaster, blue for Sans, red for Papyrus, and purple for Sans and Papyrus together.

The tape recorder and lab coat are still greyscale though cause Wingdings still has SOME of his stuff lying around. But the tapes are indecipherable, and Papyrus threw out that lab coat the first chance he got. It gave him the absolute worst feeling, worse than anything he’s ever experienced.

Something I also really enjoy is the fact that the dress shirts were still technically Wingdings’ but they’re red for Papyrus. The lab coat is the only real WINGDINGS thing that Papyrus wants absolutely no part in. Some things that were Wingdings’ are now Papyrus’ cause :D👍

in place of the bone painting are just family photos that I also have extra to say about. Someday I wanna make a comic of what happened to those/what I think would happen to em.

One day Papyrus is like “HEY UH- SANS! THESE PHOTOS! I DON’T LIKE LOOKING AT THEM! CAN WE NOT!?” Aka, he doesn’t remember these things happening/these photos being taken… BUT THEYRE PHOTOS OF HIM.

So he just feels really uncomfortable looking at memories he should reasonably remember, but doesn’t at all- and Sans gets that. But he keeps em in his drawer. Then! they hung up the bone thing in place of it cause SILLY!

But the family photos, I still had fun with. From left to right theyre a photo of Semi with the twins, the twins as baby bones, then as slightly older kids, then WDs graduation photo.

CONCLUSION!

This entire thing was so much fun, and I feel i’ve really grown as an artist over the process of experimenting and not being knocked down by annoying setbacks,

Also, as usual, Works In Progress’ plus extra behind the scenes stuff will be posted shortly after this!! YIPPEEE!!! HAPPY NIGHTMARES!!!!!

OHHHH ALSO EXTRA ART!!!

“AREN’T THEY BEAUTIFUL?”

That silly moment when your clone is really weirdly obsessed with stars and enthusiastically holds your eye sockets open to show you them

[amimuu]

“A place once filled with love”

[More doodles below the cut!]

Grips the camera

YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW BADLY I WANTED TO DOODLE THIS ISTG—

Narinder and Lamb pay a visit to the old shrine of souls (temple of the gods of death), things go as well as you’d expect. Aka, PROBABLY MY FAVORITE PART OF THE AU—you guys have no idea how much this specific…arc? Scene? Chapter? Uh…part of the story means to me. LIKE OUGHHH ILL PROBABLY HAVE THIS ENTIRE PART WRITTEN OUT BEFORE WE EVEN REACH HALF THE AU—Ft. A very obvious reference that is going to become very important to the story.

So usually context would be pretty important to understand what’s going on here…but uhm. All I’m gonna say is that before being taken in by the bishops, Narinder spent the first years of his path to godhood in the care of the then goddess of death, also known as the “crimson witch”..but as you know, old gods have to fall for new ones to arise, and she was no exception…And that’s all for now.

Oh boy, this week has been actually relaxing—but I’m boutta go back to classes 💀 which means regular art posting is ✨likely over✨ sigh. Still—I’ll do my best to keep ya’ll fed sjdjdjdndnd until then—enjoy this post :] cuz I REAAAALLY had a blast drawing it haha.

[acid-ixx]

Dear author,

I love your batfam series SO MUCH. I like the way you describe the feelings, how you use the words, how the depression of Y/N was shown, and the thinking of Batfam when they realize that Y/N had been heavily neglectful. Every time I read this series again, I still feel the hurtful of it and it actually makes me cry a lot T.T. And I love that feeling. And the series makes me want to draw, even though I’m not good at drawing.

The first panel, I draw Y/N in my thoughts ( sorry if you feel uncomfortable) and Conner. This one is inspired from a manga called “ Veil”.

The second one, I draw some scenes from chapter 3 (I tried to draw the ways Y/N calmed themselves down, but I couldn’t 😭).

From your series, I’ve thought about ABO au, where Y/N is a beta, they can’t be marked ; so the yanderes ( romantic one) are more yandere, because they know that Y/N never belong to anyone.

Last thing to say, I VERY VERY VERY LOVE your batfam series and this is one of the greatest fics of Batfam I’ve ever read. I also very admire your hardworking and your inspiration about this series. But I hope that you also stay healthy because I saw that you’re very productive ( how you can write so fast but still focus on the details TvT). No words can reveal the love in my heart to your series.

Sorry if I either bother you or my bad grammar ( English not my native language, this is also the first time I do this ). Thank you so much because spending your time reading this piece of mine. I just want to express my feelings and thoughts about your fic. Hope you have a good day!!!<333333

— masterlist !

a/n: the topic of a/b/o is written under this post. anyways, this comic panel is so absolutely brilliant and breathtaking omg... i love all the thoughts u have compiled here and i'm so sorry I wasn't able to reply to this quick enough 😭 but i appreciate this sm !! "even tho im not good at drawing" YET U SENT ME THIS !! i absolutely love everything about this don't say ur not good at drawing bec u are 😡

so like i said, don't be sorry if u draw the reader as female bec i portrayed them as gn so anyone can interpret them as any gender and it doesn't make me uncomfortable at all as long as i'm the one not being misgendered. anyways, veil is actually one of my fave mangas and if u ask me, i could say your relationship with conner is pretty much akin to that of veil's! which means conner is very touchy-feely with you and is uncaring of their status as a wayne and would rather... have you take his last name very soon, if you know what i mean hehe.

the second scene is absolutely heartbreaking even for me, especially the panel where your mom tries to comfort you by telling you it's all alright made my heart ache real badly because that's probably the last time you have experienced; the love of a parent that's soon taken away from you. your mom's last words would be reassurance, one that both comforts and disturbs you as the memory repeats itself over and over in you head like a broken record </3

and the abo au, for me personally (tho i never have written for it) is just going to threaten more angst with your family because not even your pack is willing to take you in and care for you. despite your hopes due to being a beta unlike your family who are comprised of strong alphas and resilient omegas, you are merely average in their eyes probably, average enough to be forgotten and discarded by a pack you had thought would take you in for you must be a misfit just like them.

yet despite the pain you had to endure for feeling unloved as a beta, it would also deepen your potential with conner as your love interest because although you could never be claimed by any past sweethearts, conner would always, and i mean always make a show that he loves you in a deeper, more symbolical way. he may not be able to mark you as your alpha, but a ring and an always protective hold on your waist paired with his scent and pheromones engraved into every piece of your clothing is enough to tell everyone to "fuck off, this one's mine."

and tysm for loving my fanfic 😭 even tho i have written it impulsively, look where it got now !! yes i am very productive but this is a mere product of my attention span and hyperfixations towards the dc storyline and no my health is very bad but trust me it's not from writing, it's more from me just being very ill every single day but im trying to take care of myself <33

[oceanarcaneum]

okay so the "fake out lujanne-lissa" scene/plot is egregious for a lot of reasons, but actually, my BIGGEST complaint with this one isn't even the hypocrisy, but rather what a MISSED OPPORTUNITY it was for a deeper, more complex exploration of the SIBLING dynamic between claudia and soren.

when terry says "i think there's one person who can put those pieces back together," and soren asks, "what are you getting at?" i was absolutely flabbergasted when he followed it up with "your mom," because i was completely, 100% expecting him to say soren.

terry's whole argument here is that everything claudia does, she does out of love for her family. why would he think of lissa OVER soren - lissa, who, as terry seems to know by now, hurt claudia so badly when she left, and who claudia hasn't seen in fifteen years? who claudia has barely even spoken of outside of talking to ezran about how hard it was for her being asked to choose between her parents? she talks to viren multiple times about doing things for "our family," but lissa ostensibly hasn't been a part of that family since claudia was very young.

the show even makes a point of drawing a parallel between soren and lissa in season three, when soren chooses to leave viren's side after his takeover of lux aurea, and claudia pleads with him "don't ask me to choose, soren - not again." and then refuses to say goodbye to him, because she can't bear accepting that her brother is leaving her. if the writers really wanted to go with the angle of "her love for her family is the only thing that can stop her" why not use soren instead - whom claudia clearly hasn't resolved her issues with, who's a much fresher example in her mind of being abandoned or left behind?? (AND with all the focus put on terry making them PROMISE not to hurt her, it feels like it was the perfect setup for soren to actually TALK to her, and for the story to explore their relationship in more complexity.)

i just feel like it would have made so much more sense for soren to be the one to try and stop claudia by genuinely connecting with her - a real attempt at reconciling with her and offering her a true path back, instead of the weird manipulative choice to try and trick her with an illusion of her mother (who, again, broke claudia's heart last time she saw her and has caused her emotional trauma that's stuck with her for years of her life. like????? UGH.) vs soren, who claudia clearly still loves - in the final scene with her, she still labels herself as his sister that he should love and be unwilling to kill, and refuses to kill him because she's "still herself" - inherently saying that he's still her brother, to her, and she doesn't want him dead, even when she already considers herself as being abandoned by him.

soren is, by now, the only living & present family that claudia has left. it just feels so much more intuitive and believable that he would be the only one who can connect with claudia where she is now and offer her a way back home.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry was never really Dumbledore's man

So, in HBP Harry says himself:

“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?” “Yeah, I am,” said Harry.

(HBP, 348)

But, I'm here to argue Harry actually has many many doubts and reservations about Dumbledore throughout all books (even HBP), and I find it interesting how Harry convinced the Wizarding world (and the readers) that he's Dumbledore's man when he isn't. Not really.

(Just makes me all the more annoyed at him calling his son Albus...)

I'm going to go through some examples of Harry showing his doubts about Dumbledore way before book 7. Because Harry is an abused, distrusting boy, and Dumbledore isn't actually an exception to that until very late into the books. And even when Harry chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions, he never fully trusts his judgment.

“D’you think he meant you to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your father’s cloak and everything?” “Well, ” Hermione exploded, “if he did — I mean to say that’s terrible — you could have been killed.” “No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could….”

(PS, 217)

This quote above is from the ending of Philosopher's Stone and the outlook Harry, Ron, and Hermione have on Dumbledore and his behavior is the same as seen in the later books. So I wanted to talk about each of them and how they see Dumbledore because this quote really sets the tone for the rest of the series.

Ron is doubtful and distrustful. The situation is odd, and he's clever, he analyzed the situation and came to a frightening conclusion — the whole ordeal seemed planned by Dumbledore. And Ron isn't scared of voicing this question.

Hermione, while not always a rule-follower, respects Dumbledore and his authority. A lot. So, she doesn't believe Dumbledore could've planned it as it would reflect badly on his character and authority. Hermione is a very loyal person, and once she decides she respects someone she is willfully blind to their flaws (we see it with her later in the series).

Harry, while he's clever enough to notice the same things Ron did and come to the same conclusion — that Dumbledore planned for an 11-year-old to face Voldemort — he attributes good intentions to Dumbledore. Harry sees the situation and draws his conclusions, but chooses to hope/believe Dumbledore's intentions were good ones.

Harry’s brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Harry’s own parents, and so many others. . . . At last he forced himself to speak. “You’re not,” he said, his quiet voice full of hatred. “Not what?” snapped Riddle. “Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days —” The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look. “Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —

(CoS, 282)

This is one of the scenes people call to to show how much faith Harry has in Dumbledore (even Dumbledore himself), the thing is, Harry says (in his mind) he's just saying things to try and scare Tom. To try and buy time, or unbalance Tom so he may have a chance at escape.

The important note is that Harry doesn't actually believe what he's saying to Tom. He's just saying what he thinks would bother Tom the most.

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn’t about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did.

(GoF, 310)

This part about telling no one about his wand's connection to Voldemort is true. He never told anyone by that point in GoF. Not Ron, not Hermione, not Dumbledore, not even Sirius.

As I mentioned above, Harry is abused and distrustful. He's not at all Dumbledore's perfect soldier who trusts him with everything. In GoF, Harry decides against telling Dumbledore about his dreams and the pain in his scar:

“Your scar hurt? Harry, that’s really serious. . . . Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I’ll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. . . . Maybe there’s something in there about curse scars. . . .” Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. [...] As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, fulllength wizard’s robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry’s owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write? Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter. Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.

(GoF, 21)

Harry doesn't wish to share secrets with Dumbledore, nor does he feel comfortable to go to him with his troubles (his go-to adult while Sirius was around was always Sirius). Again, Hermione is mentioned as the one who trusts Dumbledore's authority, in Harry's head, but he's right, he knows her well.

Harry actually spends a good portion of the series purposefully trying to hide information from Dumbledore. (I'm saying 'trying ' because Dumbledore always found out, but not because Harry told him).

“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.” “Right,” said Harry. He noticed that her hands too bore the marks of Hedwig’s beak and found that he was not at all sorry. “I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles —” Ron began. “Yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?” “Well, no — but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time -” Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed except him. “Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?” “He was so angry,” said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.” “Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.”

(OotP, 63)

Harry is angry here, true, but he doubts Dumbledore's idea of what's "safe" for him. He's actually glad for the dementors because he doubts Dumbledore would've brought him over if it wasn't an emergency.

And Harry is right to be doubtful and suspicious. He's right that he's less safe at the Dursleys than at Grimmauld Place. He's right to feel angry and betrayed at literally everyone knowing he's being followed except for him. He's right Dumbledore probably wouldn't have brought him if it wasn't for the dementor attack. Harry is correct in each and every one of his assessments of Dumbledore's character and decisions here.

“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It’s more like . . . his mood, I suppose. I’m just getting flashes of what mood he’s in. . . . Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. . . . He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I’m feeling it when he’s pleased too. . . .” There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building. “You’ve got to tell someone,” said Ron. “I told Sirius last time.” “Well, tell him about this time!” “Can’t, can I?” said Harry grimly. “Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?” “Well then, Dumbledore —” “I’ve just told you, he already knows,” said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg, and swinging it around himself. “There’s no point telling him again.” Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully. “Dumbledore’d want to know,” he said. Harry shrugged. “C’mon . . . we’ve still got Silencing Charms to practice . . .”

(OotP, 382)

Remember I mentioned Harry hiding things from Dumbledore? This is one of such occasions. There are more in GoF that I didn't copy, but this is an example of Voldemort-related, dangerous information Harry is hiding from Dumbledore because he doesn't trust him and doesn't feel comfortable telling him things.

“It’s lessons with Snape that are making it worse,” said Harry flatly. “I’m getting sick of my scar hurting, and I’m getting bored walking down that corridor every night.” He rubbed his forehead angrily. “I just wish the door would open, I’m sick of standing staring at it —” “That’s not funny,” said Hermione sharply. “Dumbledore doesn’t want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn’t have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You’re just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons.” “I am working!” said Harry, nettled. “You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it’s not a bundle of laughs, you know!” “Maybe . . .” said Ron slowly. “Maybe what?” said Hermione rather snappishly. “Maybe it’s not Harry’s fault he can’t close his mind,” said Ron darkly. “What do you mean?” said Hermione. “Well, maybe Snape isn’t really trying to help Harry. . . .” Harry and Hermione stared at him. Ron looked darkly and meaningfully from one to the other. “Maybe,” he said again in a lower voice, “he’s actually trying to open Harry’s mind a bit wider . . . make it easier for You-Know —” “Shut up, Ron,” said Hermione angrily. “How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.” “He used to be a Death Eater,” said Ron stubbornly. “And we’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides. . . .” “Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione repeated. “And if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”

(OotP, 554)

Again we see the same exact dynamic from first year. Hermione is loyal to Dumbledore, not even considering he might be wrong about something, or not have their best interests at heart. Ron and Harry on the other hand, are both open to the possibility that things aren't so simple. They don't think Dumbledore is intentionally harming Harry, but they think he's wrong about Snape. Something Hermione, Arthur and Molly would never consider.

(This is actually the most annoying thing in Hermione's character for me, her unshakable faith in Dumbledore, who doesn't deserve her trust)

“. . . so you see what this means?” Harry finished at a gallop. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever he’s up to. No, listen to me!” he hissed angrily, as both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. “I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. “You’ve got to watch him and you’ve got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he’s put extra protection in the school, but if Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won’t be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?” “Harry —” began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear.

(HBP, 552)

Even in book 6, the book Harry grows the most comfortable and trusting towards Dumbledore, even then, he doesn't trust Dumbledore. He thinks (and somewhat rightly so because he doesn't know of Snape and Dumbledore's plan) that Dumbledore is wrong about Snape. that Dumbledore is wrong about Malfoy. Harry doesn't trust that whatever protections Dumbledore would leave would be enough (and they weren't).

Even at the end of HBP, the point in the series where Harry has the most faith in Dumbledore, Harry still doesn't trust Dumbledore's judgment or his ability to protect the school. Even after Dumbledore calls Harry out on it, telling him the safety of the students is important to him, Harry still tells Ron and Hermione to get the DA to protect the school without notifying Dumbledore.

And Dumbledore raised Harry to feel responsible for the school's safety, Harry is doing what he was "bred" to do. But he does it behind Dumbledore's back, because like every adult, Harry deep down expects to be let down. After all, he's used to saving the school himself.

So, no, Harry never really trusted Dumbledore fully. At least, not Dumbledore's judgment. Harry does believe Dumbledore's intentions are good for the most part, even if ineffective.

“He never told me his sister was a Squib,” said Harry, without thinking, still cold inside. “And why on earth would he tell you?” screeched Muriel, swaying a little in her seat as she attempted to focus upon Harry [...] Where was saintly Albus while Ariana was locked in the cellar? Off being brilliant at Hogwarts, and never mind what was going on in his own house!” “What d’you mean, locked in the cellar?” asked Harry. “What is this?” Doge looked wretched. Auntie Muriel cackled again and answered Harry. [...] Numbly Harry thought of how the Dursleys had once shut him up, locked him away, kept him out of sight, all for the crime of being a wizard. Had Dumbledore’s sister suffered the same fate in reverse: imprisoned for her lack of magic? Had Dumbledore truly left her to her fate while he went off to Hogwarts to prove himself brilliant and talented?

(DH, 135-137)

And in Deathley Hollows, Harry is very quick to start questioning and doubting Dumbledore. Especially when compared to Hermione:

“Harry—” But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose? Ron, Dumbledore, the phoenix wand . . . “Harry.” She seemed to have heard his thoughts. “Listen to me. It—it doesn’t make very nice reading—” “Yeah, you could say that—” “—but don’t forget, Harry this is Rita Skeeter writing.” “You did read that letter to Grindelwald, didn’t you?” “Yes, I—I did.” She hesitated, looking upset, cradling her tea in her cold hands.

(DH, 311)

Harry is hurt, he feels betrayed, because while he never 100% trusted Dumbledore's judgment, he trusted his intentions. He trusted Dumbledore was good and cared for him. He feels cold and betrayed, showing trust in his intentions. But his readiness to accept Skeeter's and Muriel's accusations so quickly shows he always had his doubts about Dumbledore and they never really left, even if he wanted to trust him, he never did, not fully.

Hermione, on the other hand, who was always loyal and trusted Dumbledore (both his intentions and judgment) 100%, tries to rationalize Dumbledore's actions and convince herself everyone who says bad things about him is lying.

Harry doesn't. Because out of the Golden Trio, Hermione was always Dumbledore's woman, Ron and Harry... not really. Not as much.

“That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobby’s grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again; he did not want to hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforth’s gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers’: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it. “Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much,” said Hermione in a low voice. “Did he now?” said Aberforth. “Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he’d left ’em well alone.”

(DH, 478)

More of how Harry thinks about Dumbledore, showing, again, how he always had his doubts and reservations but he chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions because otherwise, he doesn't think he has any hope to defeat Voldemort. He chooses to keep following Dumbledore's path because he has no real choice but to trust what he sees as the only path that'll lead to Voldemort's destruction. But Harry has plenty of doubts about Dumbledore.

Hermione, on the other hand, has little to no doubts. She doesn't allow herself to doubt.

And this pattern, of Harry doubting Dumbledore again and again, never truly trusting him, just trusting his plan will kill Voldemort... like, how does that lead Harry to want to name his kid 'Albus'? I just don't get it...

TL;DR

Harry likes to say he's Dumbledore's man, but he always had his reservations, even when he choose to ignore them since trusting Dumbledore's plan felt like his only chance at survival. Hermione is much more trusting of Dumbledore than Harry is.

[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[ebsmind]

17+ minors dni!

jealous!coriolanus who spots you across the ballroom with him. sejanus plinth made coriolanus' blood boil like no other and seeing his lover with his arch-nemesis was not what he wanted to see tonight. yet, here you are and you were on a mission. thankfully, it was going according to plan.

jealous!coriolanus tries to keep his composure down to a minimum, he bites the inside of his cheek to the point where he draws blood. he hates how you make it so hard for him. it’s like you know what you’re doing, and in this case you are. he knows that you know where sejanus and him stand so why would you do such an idiotic thing. coriolanus knew you did stupid things, but not this stupid.

jealous!coriolanus who prances his way towards you. he has to tell himself to not make a scene even though he so badly wants to wrap his hands around the young plinth's neck. he wanted to see the life drain from his eyes but that would be saved for another day. coriolanus barely acknowledges sejanus once he reaches you. it makes you smile. coriolanus places a hand on your lower back and whispers in your ear, "I think it's time we leave, don't you think?" before you can mutter an answer coriolanus leads you down an empty hallway.

jealous!coriolanus who pounces on you the minute he finds an empty closet. its far enough inside the manor to where no one will find you guys. he was smart with picking a place, no one to hear and no one to see. he has a hand gripping your hair while his tongue fights it’s way into your mouth. the other is hiking up your leg to his waist. you’re lost in the euphoric atmosphere to know what happens next but it just feels so good. he takes you in that small closet with no shame. your dress is hiked up at ur waist, hair in knots, and lipstick smeared all over your lips and all that coriolanus can make you say is his name.

[sunshinemorningstar]

Trials of Apollo animatic wip

Edit: Just realized that things would probably make a lot more sense with the script, so here it is :)

(Keep in mind, this is something I made for a drama project, so a lot of this is whittled down to be comprehensible to people who haven't read ToA- also the reason for the stage directions in the script)

(Music passage 1)

Meg: So, a god again, huh?

Apollo: Indeed, but I will not continue like before. I've learnt from my mortality, and Olympus is… 

Meg: Messed up?

Apollo: Yes, that. 

Meg: Hah, no surprises there. So, what'll you do about, y'know, your dad?

Apollo: I… don't know yet, but what he did… does to me, it isn't right, and neither is what he does to demigods, or… the rest of Olympus, and he cannot be allowed to continue

I broke free on a Saturday morning

I put the pedal to the floor

Headed north on Mills Avenue

And listened to the engine roar

(Music Passage 2)

Meg: So, you've been hanging out with your relatives, huh?

Apollo: My godly siblings, yes. We've not always been kind to one another, but I hope we can be, in the future. You understand.

Meg: Yeah, it's nice to get to know some of my siblings without Nero breathing down our necks

My broken house behind me and good things ahead

A girl named Cathy wants a little of my time

Six cylinders underneath the hood crashing and kicking

Aha! Listen to the engine whine

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me

(Music Passage 3)

Meg: So, a revolution?

Apollo: He cannot be allowed to act without recompense, I cannot chance that he will hurt my family again, not you, or my children, or Artemis or any of my divine siblings

Meg: (sits down) …Or you

Apollo: Or me. 

I played video games in a drunken haze

I was 17 years young

Hurt my knuckles punching the machines

The taste of Scotch rich on my tongue

(Music Passage 4)

Meg: (getting up, begin slowly walking off) So, what's it you wanted to talk about?

Apollo: …I got Athena on board

Meg: (stops) Oh

Apollo: We're confronting him tomorrow

Meg: Okay… Don't die, dummy

And then Cathy showed up and we hung out

Trading swigs from a bottle all bitter and clean

Locking eyes, holding hands

Twin high maintenance machines

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me

I drove home in the California dusk (Come on stage; take quiver)

I could feel the alcohol inside of me hum (Pause and emotionally prepare)

Pictured the look on my stepfather's face (Open door)

Ready for the bad things to come (Draw arrow; Zeus turns; Fire)

I downshifted as I pulled into the driveway (Lightning thrown; Dodge + Explosion; Another shot)

The motor screaming out stuck in second gear (Shot lands; Lighting thrown; Lightning blocked with arms)

The scene ends badly as you might imagine (Lightning; Lightning)

In a cavalcade of anger and fear (Reach for arrow; Realize the strike is coming, and fall to the ground at “fear”)

There will be feasting (sparks in the corner) and dancing (sparks in the corner) in Jerusalem next year (Tableau as Apollo has his anime power of friendship flashback)

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me (Get up with great difficulty; Stumble)

I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me (Take arrow, step to strong beat— make + through, stab at “kills me”)

(Music Passage 5)

The aftermath; reeling from his bittersweet victory in the first half

Apollo: I… I did it… We won… (relieved, scared, tired smile)

Olympian throne room bg swirls and fades as if teleportation; Aeisthales

Apollo: (~Eye contact of understanding~) …hey Meg…

Meg: (~Pause of processing~) …You did it, you killed him

Apollo: Yeah…

Meg: So, what's next?

Apollo: I… don't know, but… there's time to find out 

[md-confessions]

It's Fwoggie ramble time, I apologize for yapping in advance.

Hey Nuzi lovers, want a fun fact I noticed after rewatching episode 7 too many times a few weeks back? Here's a fun way to tell how much time Uzi and N have spent "hanging out"

In case you don't remember, we've seen N write multiple times throughout each of the episodes. Let's also be a bit honest, he unfortunately isn't the best at it... or is he?

One of the things I noticed in episode 7, is that when N confesses, his hand writing looks SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER. Don't get me wrong. It isn't perfect, as there are some small errors with capitalization, BUT THERE IS IMPROVEMENT. The spacing and size of the letters has stabilized, and you can tell while it isn't extremely neat, he's definitely practiced his writing before. Not only that, but his art has improved a bit as well!

For example, the way he draws hearts. The hearts added in episode 2 are way more deformed, but the ones in episode 7 look way more polished. (i still can't fuckin believe he drew hearts with his own blood oh my god)

Another example is the dogs! There's a huge improvement with the form of the drawings, and you can actually tell the one drawn in episode 7 is a dog! (Last photo I edited the brightness on because the scene was too dark, however it is indeed the drawing from ep 7.)

Keeping the fact that he only has one "really good friend", who else would have helped improve N's handwriting if not Uzi.

Using context clues, Uzi and N started "hanging out" more after episode 4, meaning Uzi has probably taught N how to write and draw better within that time. According to google, it takes quite a while to improve your calligraphy skills. Let's say N was super skilled with learning. If we give him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he's a fast learner and ignoring the time taken to improve art, N has probably spent 3 weeks to a month practicing daily with his writing.

So using general estimates.

N and Uzi have spent AT LEAST a month "hanging out together", and this is counting it as if N has been practicing this daily, which i'm sure isn't the case.

Do with that information what you will shippers.

[ID of image 1: Badly drawn N with blue and yellow line art, with "I'm sorry" written next to purple colored scribbles with sad faces in them. END ID.]

[ID of image 2: Badly drawn N and Uzi. END ID.]

[ID of image 3: No ID.]

[ID of image 4: No ID.]

[ID of images 5, 6 and 7: cartoon like hearts of varying shapes. END ID.]

[ID of images 8 and 9: drawings of dogs on paper using crayons. END ID.]

[ID of image 10: drawing of a dog on the floor using oil, with a question mark next to it. END ID.]

[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) ; Begging ; Thigh fucking ; Self-harm (kind of? Reader intentionally scratches themself hard enough to draw blood) Hematolagnia (blood play) ; Dacryphilia ; Choking ; Dom!Alastor ; Unprotected sex ; Vaginal penetration ; P in V sex ; Creampie ; Alastor gets a little mean, and is his own CW ; If I missed any, let me know! Word Count: 6,695 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: This chapter is a direct continuation of the previous one, with slightly heavier emotional undertones. For those that have been here since the first Smutmus ask, ya'll remember when I said Alastor had Reader "in every position in the Kama Sutra"? Yeah, we explore that a bit in this one! There is a small part where Alastor becomes more forceful that may be triggering for some, so I've added a divider at the beginning and end of that particular scene for those that wish to skip past it. 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!

Alastor watched as you swallowed the water he had conjured for you, admiring the rosy tint of your flushed face and the movement of the muscles in your neck with each gulp. He wanted so badly to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, curious for a taste of your blood as it seeped from the small gashes they would undoubtedly leave behind. He wondered what sort of sounds you would make if he did. Would you gasp and moan, or would you scream and beg him to stop? He could feel the blood rushing back to his groin as his arousal began to build again, his half hard cock springing to life once more at the thought of it all.

After you had fully emptied the glass, you turned slightly to place it on the polished mahogany and moved your hands to pull down the hem of your skirt. Despite a lack of evidence, you believed that Love Potion wore off after the first orgasm, which is why you had assumed Alastor and you were done - both sides having fulfilled one another's desires. You were disappointed that you couldn't take things further with the Radio Demon, but it was common knowledge at the hotel that he didn't like to be touched. And with the way he had tensed and shied away from your touch at every turn, you knew that once the effects wore off that he would be done and go about his evening as usual. But then, Alastor did something completely unexpected on your part and grabbed your wrists to stop you from redressing.

"Alastor? What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Alastor started, his eyes roaming over your half-nude form - admiring the way your now ruined dress shirt hung loosely from your shoulders and bunched in the crevices of your elbows; the way your breasts filled the cups of your bra and threatened to spill over with the slightest tug to the center band; the wrinkles in your skirt caused by the fabric being pushed up to your waist; the way your heeled shoes accentuated the plump tissue of your rear; the faint trails of mascara present on your cheeks as a result of your earlier crying. He soaked up every little detail his mind could process as he stepped toward you, his pants that were still wrapped around his ankles restricting his movements, pushing you back against his desk. Leaning forward to arch his body over your much smaller form like he did during his flight on cloud nine, Alastor let go of your wrists and placed his palms on the cool mahogany to your sides, trapping you as he moved his face closer to yours - his eyes shifting between your innocent laden irises and your beautifully swollen lips.

Alastor was looking at you like a man starving - a thin trail of drool seeping from the edges of his smile; his antlers growing to double their original size only to shrink back down a few moments later and repeat the process. He was trying so hard to maintain control of his own body, but there was just something about you that evoked the most primal of instincts from him and he couldn't pinpoint what that thing was. Your heart jumped to your throat when you locked eyes with him yet again, completely unsure of how to feel. You were excited and a bit happy that your earlier desires were still attainable - but also confused. You didn't have any first hand experience with Love Potion, so you had no choice but to trust in the information you had gathered from other people that did.

"Did it not work?" you asked, staring up at him as your heart pounded in your ears like a bass drum - ringing louder and louder with every beat. Had the testimonies been false? They had to be. Love Potion was the only thing that made sense for Alastor's still prominent arousal, you thought - the only possible explanation for him using his nail to tear a line down your skirt from waistband to hem, the fabric soon falling from your lower half as the sharp edges of his claw effortlessly glided through the material like butter. You swallowed the lump in your throat that you were positive had been your literal heart as you rubbed your thighs together, unable to contain the excitement, the lust still pumping through your veins and clouding your mind.

You heard him chuckle lowly as his eyes roamed over your body, his predatory gaze tinting your cheeks pink with embarrassment. Transparency never was a trait Alastor appreciated in other people - but with you, it was oh-so-amusing, and he thought it absolutely adorable how hard you were trying (and failing) to hide all of the lewd thoughts he knew were racing through that naughty little mind of yours. If he wasn't already smiling, this would definitely be a moment that would pull an honest one from him. When was the last time he truly smiled, anyway? He couldn't remember - or if it ever happened at all. He was going to have fun trying to figure out how you were able to get under his skin so easily, so effortlessly. He loved a good brain teaser, and this would definitely provide him with a little entertainment.

"This drug is quite persistent," Alastor mused, conjuring a handkerchief and beginning to wipe at the spittle still on your face. After he was done, he tossed the cloth to the side to be forgotten, his hands returning to either side of your figure a moment later. His eyes roamed over your form, specifically your still clothed upper body, making it his goal to remove those pesky garments next. "You have already given me your consent, and informal though it was, I've no intentions of letting you back out of our deal now," Alastor stated flatly, bringing his right index finger up to the band of your bra nestled between your breasts, toying with the taut threads as his eyes rose to lock with yours, his bright red irises flashing pink and slitted pupils dilating. "But if you would like to postpone the next part for another night, I would not object. I am a patient man."

Tracing the tender flesh of his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Alastor brought his face as close to yours without making any contact - searching for a sign that you wanted to stop. He really did plan on holding you to it, but he wouldn't force it if you wished to end the night here. It wouldn't be the first time he had to endure, to fight back some of his baser urges - but it would be difficult, it seemed. Already, he could feel that pesky itch growing beyond containment, demanding every ounce of his attention and begging to be scratched. This concoction was rather annoying - he rarely felt attraction of any kind for another person. It felt like that damned spray was generating these emotions and forcing him to indulge in acts so uncouth. It didn't matter what you decided though. One way or another, Alastor made a vow to himself to have you beneath him in every conceivable way - with a little more effort to woo you, it was only a matter of time. Adding a chase to the mix would make it more enjoyable by a large margin, he thought.

"Although, I must warn you. If you choose to keep going tonight, I cannot promise any restraint on my part," Alastor told you, his sclera flashing black and irises shifting to radio dials for a moment, then back to their usual appearance. "I'm just not the type to leave a 'meal' unfinished," he said, a dry chuckle following his wordplay regarding his earlier actions and sending a shiver up your spine.

"N-no, I- ... uhm..." you started. It was infuriating how he was able to reduce you to such a timid, almost virgin-like mess with so little effort. It made you wonder how things would go if he did put in the work.

"'Uhm' is not a word, my dear," Alastor clicked his tongue against his teeth, the first few strands of the center band of your bra snapping apart as he pressed lightly against it. "Do you want to stop?" he asked you again, his eyes narrowing in delight as a slight release of tension sent a ripple through your chest with each string that he cut. Curling your lips inward, you tried to hold back an immediate 'no' response in an effort to appear less desperate, but you were starting to realize that ship had already sailed by the way Alastor's smile widened and your center band was finally severed - your breasts falling from the cups as they sprung apart.

"No, don't! Alastor... don't stop," you breathed, holding back a pleasurable sigh at the relief that coursed through your veins when the taut garment no longer held you tight. You moved to slide the remnants of your shirt and now ruined bra (yet another favorite item you would force him to replace later - they were expensive in life, and Hell only made it worse) off your body - now fully nude except for the heels and accessories adorning your figure. You saw the dim lights of his room flicker as Alastor leaned even closer, his breath fanning your face and his lips grazing yours as he uttered,

"As you wish, Mon Cherie."

Without a moment's hesitation, you found yourself being lifted to sit upon the edge of his polished desk like before. Only this time, he urged you to lie flat on your back as he raised your legs so that you were positioned at a 90° angle. You tilted your head to peer around your own limbs at him, curiosity brimming in your eyes as you silently awaited his next movements. "If you would be so inclined, I would like to try a couple of things first - just to see what all the hype is about. May I?" Alastor asked, tilting his own head in the same manner as you. You had to stifle a giggle as the action was just too cute, you thought. And you just couldn't resist the urge to tease him a little as you began to feel more comfortable and relaxed in his presence.

"I'm up for it. But you know, curiosity killed the cat," you remarked, raising your hands to lay beside your head as he shifted behind your thighs. Alastor laughed at that just before you felt his fingers sliding through your slick folds, eliciting a moan from you. "Ah, yes! But satisfaction brought it back!" he responded, not missing a single beat in the light banter. He peered around your legs once more, only this time with a sultrier look as you felt something hard and wet slip in between the space of your joined thighs and pubic area. "And I intend to revive all nine of its lives, my dear," he drawled out, savoring the way your thighs engulfed his member as he thrust forward, his hips and lower abdomen pressed flush against the backs of your legs. Sighing at the way your soft flesh surrounded him, he wrapped his arms around your knees and lifted your lower half up slightly. "Oh my... I believe I'm going to enjoy this," he said, holding you there as he gave another experimental thrust while keeping your legs pressed against his torso - your ankles now dangling over his right shoulder as you hummed softly each time his hips pushed forward.

Soon, the room was filled with the soft clapping sound of skin on skin and heavy pants on Alastor's part as he built a steady pace. Chewing on your lip as you stared up at the Radio Demon, you smiled as you watched his face contort with pleasure - his brows furrowed together and eyes narrowed, sweat beading on his forehead and his ears laid flat, his smile twitching and shifting between an open, toothy grin to a closed lip, almost serene type; but not once did it falter. It was a sight to behold - Alastor letting his instincts take over but still somehow managing to keep that illustrious grin of his. Part of you wondered if he was even capable of frowning.

"Does it feel good?" you asked, watching as Alastor turned his head to kiss your calf, occasionally licking a stripe up the length of it as he stared right back at you. "You've no idea, Cherie," his response was low and gravelly, his voice thick with his trademark filter as he began to pick up the pace, chasing his second release of the night.

You let your gaze drift down from his face to the gap between your thighs and crotch, the tip of his dick poking through to the other side with each thrust, each grunt he let out. Lifting your legs up another half inch off the wooden surface, Alastor angled himself so that when he pushed forward, his length would slide between the outer lips and his head would catch on your clit, pulling a gasp or a sigh from you at the unexpected sensation. You curled your lips inward around your teeth, enjoying his actions almost as much as he seemed to be.

"Must I remind you already?" you heard him speak suddenly in exasperation just before you felt the claws of his left hand wrap around the back of your neck, tangling in your hair at the roots to yank your head back and force you to look up at his face. His features had become more demonic as he gave a hard thrust and pulled your hair again. "Keep your eyes on me," he told you, enunciating each word as he willed his features back to a tamer appearance - well aware that his full demon form was quite frightening, especially to those that have never seen it before (you).

"Trust that I will discipline you thoroughly if you look away again."

With that said, Alastor released his grip on your hair and brought it back up to your legs. Thrusting forward once again, Alastor released his hold on your calves and drew your legs closer to his chest, resuming his previous pace. With one arm wrapped around your knees to hold you in place, he reached down between your legs to rub slow, tantalizing circles around your clit - using his thumb to push back your clitoral hood to further expose the little bundle of nerves. Alastor could feel the tension in his belly rising, and in an attempt to slow things down, to draw this out just a little bit longer, he asked, "Are you enjoying this as well, my dear?" He watched your brows knit together and your jaw go slack at the continuous stimulation he now provided you, trying to keep himself quiet to better hear the noises pouring from your throat.

You fought the urge to throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, somehow managing to resist when you recalled his previous warning. You kept your eyes focused on his face, eyelids drooping as you felt the beginnings of that oh-so-familiar knot start to build with every deliberate motion of his thumb. "M-mmhmm!" a hum and a curt nod was all you could manage as Alastor turned his head to place more kisses on your sweaty skin. Opening his mouth, you felt his teeth glide against the soft flesh of your calf near the ankle, nipping sporadically but never taking a legitimate bite. "Mmphh..." he pressed a muffled moan to your skin as he stared down at you from the corner of his eye - biting the inside of his cheek at the delectable sight before him in an effort to ground himself.

"Do tell me, Cherie," Alastor spoke, drawing you out of your bliss clouded mind for a moment. "Have you ever dabbled in blood play before?" he asked you, fighting back the urge to just sink his teeth into your calf without waiting for a response. Your eyes widened a bit at the question, not sure how to answer at first. "N-no... I haven't. Why?" you asked, that lump returning to your throat. It was an idea that never appealed to you in that sense, so you never explored the possibilities - but that didn't mean that you weren't willing to try it. Who knows, maybe you would enjoy it. But then your paranoia started to kick in, and you were beginning to feel like your life was in danger. Alastor is a cannibal, after all - and anyone in their right mind would be terrified under these circumstances with someone like him.

Smile twitching, Alastor picked up the pace - his hips slamming against the back of your thighs and your breasts bouncing up and down in tandem with each one delivered. "I asked for your consent to have sex, not to cause you any amount of bodily harm," he explained, running his claw up along the side of your calf from knee to ankle. "But the thought of tasting your blood is quite..." he trailed off as he traced his pointed nail back down from your ankle to your knee - adding just enough pressure to leave a red streak but not enough to draw any blood, "... tempting," Alastor finished - taking a moment to bask in the fear evident in your eyes, chuckling ominously for added effect.

"There's no reason to be afraid. I'm not going to eat you," he said, putting your mind at ease and allowing you to relax. You drew your bottom lip between your teeth as you contemplated his question, still slightly afraid that he may actually attempt to literally consume you. Your fears were founded, considering what he had said earlier: that he wasn't sure if he could show any restraint. Even if he promised not to, what was stopping him from ignoring said promise after the first drop? You weren't exactly in a position to defend yourself, especially against someone as powerful as Alastor. "If that were my goal, we wouldn't be having this conversation," he said, ramming into your legs again, forcing you to reach up above your head and grip the edges on the opposite side of the desk.

Then again, now that you think about it, what was stopping him from doing it anyway, at any given moment? Staring into his eyes, you searched for any sign of sincerity, but couldn't see anything past his crazed, lust riddled gaze -a knot tightening in the pits of your belly from the constant stimulation to your clit. Alastor wasn't an easy man to read, even in as vulnerable a state as this. "A-Al..." you breathed out, biting your tongue as you lifted yourself up to rest your weight on your forearms. It sounded like a 50/50 gamble to you, and considering how your luck has been tonight, you were liking the odds.

'Fuck it.'

Alastor nipped at the skin near your ankle, patiently awaiting your response to his request. He expected you to outright refuse the proposal, which he would respect - but he would have been disappointed all the same. 'Another time, perhaps,' he thought to himself as your silence dragged on. Shifting your weight onto one arm, you reached up with the other to trace your own pointed digit along the side of your calf where he had been kissing and scratching. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you pressed your own claw into the muscle until a few drops of blood began to ooze out of the shallow, crescent shaped wound and roll down the length of your leg.

Alastor lost his composure for a second, letting his shock at your actions show on his face before donning his mask once again. His smile widened further as he threw his head back and laughed dramatically, then returned his gaze to your divine features. "My, you're quite the interesting little enigma, aren't you?" he said, his tongue rolling out to catch the few droplets of blood that had reached your knee and licked back up to where you had punctured the skin. Alastor grabbed hold of the finger you cut yourself with, bringing it up to his face and into his mouth - his tongue swirling around the digit as he sucked any traces of blood from underneath your nail. Satisfied, he pulled your finger out of his mouth with a pop, his arms snaking back around your legs and mouth returning to your self-inflicted wound.

Placing his lips over it, Alastor began to suck and lick, craving more and more with each drop - savoring the metallic taste of your blood mixed with the salt of your sweat. He had to stop himself from taking a bite out of the muscle, not expecting your blood to be so intoxicating. But he essentially promised you restraint on this part, and it was a personal principle of his to keep every promise he made - even the indirect ones.

A rather loud growl erupted from Alastor's throat as he felt the impending release barreling towards him now. Your actions seemed to have a greater effect on him than the thought initially as his soft grunting soon turned into sonorous moans - the rapid clapping sound of his balls hitting your skin filling the room. It was surprising that he managed to continue pushing forward when the crimson liquid first touched his tongue and coated his taste buds. "I'm-! God fuckin-!" Alastor started, his eyes closing and his jaw tensing, causing his pointed fangs to sink into your supple skin. You winced at the pain that it caused, but the way he pressed his thumb down further on that little button between your legs had you forgetting the pain almost instantly.

Squeezing your thighs even tighter around his cock, you stared up at Alastor as he chased his high. You drank in the rare sight before you, taking in every detail you could - putting them to memory and tucking them away like the most precious of treasure, because they were. Even if Alastor didn't look at things the same as you, this night was something that you would hold near and dear to your heart, because it was the first time you ever had the option to participate since spawning in hell. But more than that, you would forever cherish the fact that he trusted you enough to let you see this side of him, drug or no. And in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to provide him with everything he sought. Your body, your heart, your soul - if didn't matter what it was; if you could give it to him, you would.

You could tell that he was close to his next release by the way his hips began to lose their rhythm and how he struggled to keep his appearance under control. You watched his antler grow as testament, the vertebrae in his neck contorting into unnatural positions beneath his ashen skin, a dark liquid beginning to seep from the edges of his smile - it all had you wondering what it would be like to have that side of him, to experience sex with an uninhibited Alastor. 'That poor cat,' you silently mused - if things kept going this way, you'd have to start calling it Prometheus. "Al," you called, reaching up to touch him - his arms, his face, anything that you could reach to draw his attention back to you. If he wanted you to look at him, then you would make him do the same. "Alastor," you called his name more clearly now, your voice ringing in his ears as he opened his eyes to look down at you. "Hm?" he hummed in response, lips pressed tightly together while he tried to hold back his release, to drag this moment for just a little bit longer.

'Not yet,' he thought. 'Keep going- ... fuck, not yet!'

"Look at me, Alastor," you moaned, holding his gaze as you brought your hand down from his face to rest on his wrist as he continued to draw heavy, fast circles on your clit. "Please... I want you to look at me when you cum," you pleaded, heart racing at your own words. Electricity shot up his spine as Alastor stared you down - his hips halting for a moment, his body right on the cusp of euphoric gratification. "... You sure know how to drive a man crazy, doll," he mumbled against your leg, tongue slithering out to lap at the blood that was dripping form the gashes your nail and his teeth had caused. His hips began to move once more, finding their previous pace almost instantly and his salacious groans filling the room - eyes not leaving yours for a single millisecond, just as you requested.

"Da- ... Darling," Alastor rasped out suddenly, pulling his face away from your calf and leaning forward, pushing your body into a more angled position. Unwrapping the arm that had been coiled around your legs, he placed his hand next to your head, palm laying flat against the cool surface of his desk. "May I-?" he asked, his voice desperate as he tried to hold back those needy whimpers your beautiful body and rapturous sounds dragged from him. He didn't have a chance to finish his question. You already knew what he was asking to do - and it was something that you were more than happy and quite eager to give your consent. "Yes!" you agreed with a curt nod of your head. Drawing your hand back from his wrist as he hovered over your folded figure, you reached up to wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, your other arm supporting the rest of your weight behind you.

Halting his movements, Alastor pulled away almost reluctantly - not wanting to leave the comforting embrace of your thighs for a single second, but the promise of an even greater pleasure gave him the motivation to do just that. As he parted your legs slightly with one hand, his other reached down to grip his leaking cock and guide it to the opening of your drenched core. He rubbed the tip up and down your slick folds a couple of times - gathering enough of your essence to use as a lubricant when he pressed into you for the first time that night. Placing both of his hands on the backs of your thighs, a whine of respite escaped his throat and his jaw fell open as the pressure, the heat of your sweet, sweet cunt finally engulfed his throbbing member. Your pliant walls were effortlessly molded to the shape of him as he slid deeper and deeper into you, bottoming out not long after the initial penetration. "Oh, fuck!" he cursed, his hands groping at your legs as he leaned forward again, folding your body over once again.

With your ankles now dangling over his shoulders, Alastor began to slowly and shallowly thrust into you. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, screaming for that delicious relief of a well-earned orgasm. He was trying to give you time to adjust to his intrusion before he took on a more brutal pace, not wanting to cause you any pain or discomfort (not yet anyway). But he was already so close - he couldn't stop himself from splitting you in half on his cock. His body refused to listen to his brain, having essentially developed a mind of its own separate from his consciousness and moving involuntarily.

Alastor's conflicting thoughts and actions showed in his body language. He was still trying to hold back, that much was evident by the inconsistency of his thrusts - speeding up momentarily only to slow back down a couple seconds later, his cock dragging against your walls with long, deep thrusts then becoming short and shallow. Even though you were curious to see him lose it, you were still appreciative that he was trying so hard not to hurt you. Letting your hand travel up from the nape of his neck to run your fingers through his hair, you pulled him as close as this angle would allow. "It's okay, Alastor," you reassured him, giving him a warm smile as his mind and body continued to vie for control.

"It's okay," you repeat, panting and moaning as you could feel your own orgasm approaching. "I promise, it's okay," nodding your head while you let your hand join the other in his crimson and ebony hair, you used him to support your weight. Alastor lowered his hands from your thighs to rest flat on the polished wood, allowing your legs to fall from his shoulders and hook around his biceps. Bringing your hands up a bit higher, you lightly traced your fingertips around the base of his ears - causing Alastor to flinch and bow his head at the unexpected contact.

"Holy sh- ...!" he hissed through gritted teeth. A shiver traveled up his now rigid spine and nudged him over the precipice straight into that blinding, white hot ecstasy he so desperately sought. Alastor's nails were digging into the hard surface and leaving large, unsightly tears in the mahogany while he shot his seed deep within you. Having not expected your light touches to have such a profound effect on him, you smirked proudly and began to massage his twitching ears to ground him as well as help him ride out his high to its fullest extent. "You like that?" you asked, stroking their backsides with your fingers and pressing your thumbs against the inner, more fleshy side.

Alastor couldn't think in that moment, drowning in the pleasure that coursed through his veins with each rope of his cum that he pumped into you. Clenching his eyes shut, he pushed further forward and lowered his head to rest in the crook of your neck, nodding in response to your question. When you moved your hands from his ears to his antlers to massage them in the same manner, he winced and let out a strangled whimper, pressing his lips against your carotid and sucking harshly. Eventually, the pleasure turned to pain and Alastor reached to pull your hands away by the wrists, breathing heavily as the waves subsided and his muscles relaxed.

"... My ears have always been sensitive, even when I was alive," Alastor began to explain, unnecessary though it may be. "The sensitivity increase when I am... aroused," he finished, raising his head and pulling back from you until he was standing upright again. Staring down at you contentedly, he quickly realized that you hadn't reached your own peak yet, and he started to rock his hips into yours. He wasn't able to see your face earlier, so he could only imagine what you would look like, what expressions you would make when you came undone beneath his touch. The thought alone was enough to keep him from going soft, his body already seeking out that next mind numbingly exquisite release.

Raising your hands above your head once more, you curled your fingers around the edges of his desk and tried to roll your hips into his. Alastor had his fun - now it was your turn, and he was more than happy to provide his assistance. "Al-..." you called out to him, your voice barely a whisper and eyelids drooping as you struggled to keep them open. A chuckle filled the air as Alastor began to pick up speed, his cum mixed with yours allowing him to plow into you as easily as a hot knife cutting through butter.

"No need to fret, Mon Cherie. I won't leave you unsatisfied," he reassured you.

Knees sliding down his biceps to link with his elbows, Alastor slipped his hand between your legs again, pressing his thumb to you aching bud and drawing fast, harsh circles. "That was more entertaining than I expected. You deserve a reward for a job well done," he told you, choosing to ignore the fact that you barely did anything this time around while he chased you to the edge of your own end in a matter of seconds. "What would you like, my dear? Tell me, and it's yours," Alastor cooed sweetly, watching your tits bounce with each slam of his hips, stopping for just a moment to pull your lower body closer - your ass no hanging off the edge as it dug into your lower back. Picking up his initial pace, the desk began to rock and squeak beneath you with every rapid movement he made.

Now you were the one struggling to form any coherent thoughts or words, barely aware of the fact that he was talking to you. "H-hah! Ah! Fah- ...! Fu- ... ah-ack!" you cried as you felt your release draw closer with every snap of his hips, every whispered word of encouragement and praise. Then, you heard movement and muffled voices coming from the hallway just outside Alastor's bedroom door. Your heart began to race as you felt your orgasm slipping away, propping yourself up on your forearms - forgetting all about his prior warning as you turned your head to look at the door. Who was it on the opposite side? Could they hear what you two were doing? Somehow the idea of being heard made your cheeks flush an even deeper crimson more than anything else the two of you had done so far.

In an embarrassed panic, you shifted all of your weight to one arm and brought the other up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle the uncontrollable noises he pried from you. "Someone's out- ...! Ah, fu- ...!" you whispered against the palm of your hand, turning your head back to look up at Alastor with a pleading expression on your face. But when your eyes met his, you immediately realized that someone hearing you being fucked by the Radio Demon was the least of your worries. "A-Alastor?!" you gasped as you felt his girth grow and stretch your walls nearly to their limit, his ears falling flat against his skull as he wrapped one hand around your throat. His already large stature became even more so as he seethed in his anger at your blatant disregard for the one rule he had set for you. But more than that, he was angry that you attempted to silence yourself.

How dare you try to hide those melodious sounds from him! And you took your eyes off of him, too? You done fucked up! Alastor wasn't about to let that slight go unpunished, especially when he had been generous enough to let you off with a warning, twice.

"Who fucking cares?" Alastor asked through gritted teeth, momentarily dropping his radio filter and neon green stitches manifesting over his smiling lips. "Let them hear you!" his pace became more brutal the higher his anger spiked, his thumb tormenting your abused clit with circles so harsh it had become more painful than pleasurable. Laying back again, you reach your hand down to wrap around his wrist in an attempt to stop him, or at the very least get him to let up. But before your fingertips could even graze his skin, a black tendril wrapped around yours and forced it back up above your head along with the one that had been covering your mouth.

Struggling against the ebony appendages holding your wrists, you pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to plant your feet on his torso to push him away. You didn't expect him to stop entirely (nor did you want him to), you just wanted to make him go easier on you - but the gap in raw power mixed with the exhaustion of a full day's work and your previous orgasm wouldn't allow it. Just as one of your feet found purchase within the crevice right below his clavicle, your heel digging into his flesh, you felt more tendrils wrap around your ankles and pull them back down - holding them apart as he continued to pound into you with reckless abandon.

"Al, please! I-it hurts- ...!" you tried to tell him, but your cries only added fuel to the flames. Alastor's antlers grew in size along with the rest of his body, only this time he didn't try to bring himself back under control as he chortled heartily at your failed attempts. "And?" he asked, static crackling through the air and the filter returning to his voice as he pinched the pink nub - rolling it roughly between his fingers and laughing gleefully at the pain it so clearly caused. A violent wince wracked your body at the action, and you tried to pull yourself free, but with no slack in those dark tendrils of his, you couldn't even bend your limbs. "I don't like repeating myself, darling," Alastor told you, his grip tightening around your throat and his elongated nails digging into your flesh, restricting your airflow and making it difficult for you to produce any type of sound.

Tears began to well up in your eyes the longer this went on, being unable to do anything except endure and hope that he would show you a little bit of mercy. It was unlikely though, considering the clear warning he'd given you earlier should you look away from him again. You tried to blink the tears away at least, but the lack of oxygen was getting to you, and it became harder and harder to open your eyes again after each flutter of your lashes. Seeing that you were close to losing consciousness, Alastor loosened his grip and allowed you to breathe again, watching with utter delight as you greedily sucked in air, the color returning to your face. He made a mental note to explore breath play at a later time, among other things.

"I- ...! Please- ... I-I'm sorry- ...!" you stuttered through your coughs, the tears cascading down your cheeks now as his tip relentlessly bullied your cervix. Another laugh filled the air as Alastor, much to your relief, pulled his hand away from your puffy clit and leaned forward again - moving his hands to press into the curves of your waist. "Lucky for you, I'm feeling merciful right now," he started, nails digging into the soft plushness of your midsection - his form shrinking back down as your tear-soaked apologies quelled his anger. "Do keep in mind that I will not be so forgving next time," he told you, to which you nodded vigorously, thankfully - the black tendrils loosening from your wrists and ankles once you showed your compliance.

Letting one hand drift from your side all the way up to your face, Alastor caressed your cheek in a belying manner of affection and kindness. "Now, where were we?" he asked you, raising a single brow as he began to rock his hips into you once more, his other hand returning to your clit - this time, more gently. Immediately, you opened your mouth to let out one of the loudest, most sinfully sounding moans you would make that night, eyes locked with his as your body began to make that steady climb back to your peak. As embarrassing as it was to know someone could be listening to any of this, you were much more fearful of the punishments Alastor would unleash upon you should you disobey again.

"Good girl," Alastor praised you, his claw tracing down your neck and over your collar bone, then further down to your breasts. Having lost himself entirely in his rush to that first high, he didn't get the chance to appreciate them properly - something that needed to be remedied right away. As one hand continued to rub tantalizing circles on your clit, he let the other cup one of your breasts in the palm of his hand. Alastor gave it a light squeeze before he began to knead the soft mound. The pointed tips of his nails pressed into your skin, threatening to break it and draw blood - which he would be all the more happy and eager to lap up.

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