#it's like making potions. fulfills something in me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cursedcola · 1 year

Text

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore(Here!), Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: May have overdone it. Also, I'm a bit rough with my french. It's been 2 years, go easy on me.

There is a word for this young man. A term that has always been a one-way thing in his past. A noun that he has experience being the target of, and not the one it is describing.

Whipped. Oh, dear heavens, Vil is whipped for you. The thought both entices him and sends a shiver of distaste down his spine. Why? Because, my dove, in recognizing that he is whipped he is also acknowledging that he is dependent. Reliant. No longer the boss a** queen who needs nobody other than himself. The man the world knows him to be but this schoolboy crush has progressed to borderline infatuation.

Let us do a little synopsis of this downfall. A summary, if you will. An exploration of this Schoenheit's thought process as his prospective future melded from being Twisted Wonderland's resident supernova, to a domestic fantasy that would make his past self vomit.

It all began with a little birdy falling into a nest of snakes. Lost, alone, scared, weak - they slowly melted the hearts of everyone they came in contact with. Vil watched from the sidelines in interest. Not enough to investigate because *why* would he place his time in the hands of prey. It would be an utter waste.

Albeit so...Vil recognizes potential when he sees it. Not unlike himself, they took the hand they were dealt and carved a path to the top. He could respect that ... until there was a collision that threatened his own plans. Suddenly their oddities were no longer amusing and instead a hindrance. Like rain. Nice at the start, but the muddy aftermath never pleases.

And muddy his life became indeed. He became the villain he always disliked. Wretched and old. Completed his self-fulfilling prophecy...and somehow lost it all, yet gained something new in such a short span of time. He was no hero in the story, had no life-changing epiphany, yet somehow it felt different. For a brief moment, he was the fairest of them all to that little birdy. Despite his venom and scales, he was the fairest.

It dawns him that they both are not as alike as he once thought. He was playing a game of chess against someone playing checkers.

The oddity turned hindrance now became an object of interest. He started to watch them again and to approach as well. He wanted to bloom the potential he saw in them. Letting it go to waste would be neglectful on his part, so he would shelter them during their time in this den.

Or so he told himself.

While they could never make it to his level...the little birdy was morphing into a beautiful dove right before his very eyes. All without his help or a need for change. He never felt so desperate to be needed by someone else.

The object of interest becomes an object of affection. He doesn't want to recommend new potions, fashion, workouts, skincare routines - he wants to do them with you. He wants to sit in a rosewater bath together and talk about the day. He wants to be chided for wearing a sleepmask, blocking your view of his eyes at night. He wants to go on a morning jog together and share breakfast. To have you on his arm as he walks the carpet at premiers - brighter than any other accessory his stylist could choose. He wants to kiss your pulse points and smell his perfume on your skin. He wants to share clothes and give the press something to gossip about. He wants to love this little birdy who has always been a dove.

And he gets this fantasy. He has it for years but there is always an underlying gnaw beneath his skin that it is going to end - which he is prepared for initially. He does not do anything half-effort and dating you is not taken lightly - but he is prepared until he does not want to be. Until the possibility of splitting up is unfathomable and he can't imagine not having all the little moments that now he has become so...

Reliant. Whipped.

He initially wants you to propose to him, and hints at it frequently. How glorious would he look dressed in white, no? Which do you like better, black forest cake or almond chip? Oh dear...these tulips would make such a lovely Boquete for a bride...

You are either too dense to understand his hints (unlikely, considering you have years of practice) or he needs to take initiative. Well, if it is a proposal you want then it is a proposal you will get.

He stages it under the guise that he needs a partner for a photoshoot. Specifically for a wedding magazine. You, thinking this is another one of his blatant hints, comply to his pleasure. He calls in a contact from one of the magazines he has modeled for before and asks if they would like an inclusive - never before seen- scoop. Aka. to photograph his proposal and feature it on their front cover. With his reputation, the offer is accepted readily and they agree to set up the shoot with whatever theme he wishes. He goes traditional - set in a gothic chapel that is decorated with red and purple floral adornments. The works for a proposal with a dark vintage twist.

That morning, he leaves before you to handle a separate modeling gig. With a kiss to your wrist, he is gone and off to make sure that everything is perfect for when you arrive later on. Photographers know him for his tenacity, but none have ever seen Vil so anal over small details. Every ribbon must be perfect, there must be both black AND white rose petals spread along the walkway. You must be photographed in rose-tinted lighting, so the camera should face towards the biggest piece of stained glass.

When you arrive, you are escorted to hair and makeup in a whirl. The scene is a blur and you're decked head to toe in white. Gothic lace as far as the eye can see...and when you are finally allowed to enter the chapel, Vil stands haloed by his arranged decorations - waiting for you to join him.

"Stunning, my dear. You look absolutely stunning. A sight I will have etched in my thoughts for many nights to come..." he takes your hand, and signals for the cameramen to get ready. They instruct you both to pose as a couple taking their vows. The camera clicks once, and then Vil gets down on one knee.

You think it's part of the act and that he is improvising. Well, until he pulls out a ring from his breast pocket. One that is a sharp contrast from the dark atmosphere and obviously not a prop.

"Alas, my patience runs dry. I can no longer wait for you..." he begins, and takes your hand in his. Another click echoes in the room, "with this ring, I make you mine. There will be no escape. No lies or uncertainties. I am already yours. I have been for many, many years. Will you finally join me in matrimony?"

{Black Opal. Staring into the gem puts any viewer in a trance. It sucks them in with bright swirls - hypnotizing. It is so beautiful with its intricate pattern, yet at a distance it appears solely black. We often narrow complex things down to one-note interpretations. Do with this information what you will}

Our man of mystery likes to keep things fresh. He loves the thrill of the chase. The anticipation. The adrenaline.

There is no better game of cat and mouse in life than romance. At every stage there are twists and turns that one can never predict. Each day brings new surprises and events! At least, that is what Rook believes a relationship should entail. No partnership should ever feel the lull of comfort...no-no. There must always be a little spice and sweetness around every corner to keep the relationship alive.

At your side, Rook does not doubt his beliefs for a second. You are like a magnet for attention and rightfully so. Out of all the people he finds interesting...you are the most tantalizing to observe. He finds himself following your every movement early on. Long before you began to enter his personal bubble, you were rare prey for the hunt. Otherworldly, full of secrets, attentive, attractive, enticing - he had his mark set so firm that he would have watched you even without Vil's order.

Nothing is missed under his fond scrutiny. Rook is the first to notice small things, like if you trimmed your hair or sewed new buttons on your blazer. He has your walking pace memorized to match when he is at your side. He knows your favorite meals in the dining hall, your habitual seat in the library, how to read your body language, what your favorite treats are and when you like to have them - his knowledge is so extensive that it's up to you if it is considered sweet or creepy. Rook's affections are often teetering the line with infatuation; however, he is not controlling or weird about it. He simply is a romantic who feels the need to know the ins and outs of the person he will give his heart to.

If that includes protecting you from ill-mannered heathens and appearing out of thin air to catch you if you trip? Well, best not question where he comes from. Just know that you have a second shadow. He will only become worse when his affections are returned. You may feel the need to set ground rules for how he can behave in public. Loud declarations of compliment and suggestive topics will not be reigned in otherwise. He is a lover and a fighter. Remember that.

There will come a day that Rook feels you are ready to marry him. Yes, specifically you. He was ready very early on, likely because pining for so long (while exciting) was a chase that gave him plenty of time to learn what he wants. Any time spent waiting was merely for your sake. Only when he notes your fondness towards the idea of marriage does he create a series of tests to ensure your desires. Things like leaving a wedding magazine on the counter to see your reaction, and taking you for a romantic boat ride that just so happens to be a hotspot for couples on their honeymoon. He also mentions the topic in his flirtations more often, to see if you'll respond in kind or shy away. He is a thorough man, if anything.

Oddly enough, he takes a reserved approach for proposing. He uses poetry, which is not unlike him considering how he loves to speak with flourishes. In his heart Rook would love to set up an elaborate event to propose. Something exciting, like a train mystery or a scavenger hunt. Yet some things do not need to be active to be thrilling. Marriage is a delicate act, so it is with a delicate hand that he pens a book of poetry over the course of nineteen days. On each day, he writes one poem to describe one reason he wants to marry you. The first letter in the title of each poem corresponds to a hidden message that you will have to decipher. He does not tell you either of these things.

He hands the book off to you with a cunning grin, and says that it is up to you to find the hidden meaning. If you can, then he will give you a 'special prize'. If you ask the occasion, he offers one of his closed-eye grins and claps his hands. 'Because why not?' He'll say, and it's enough to pacify because it is such a Rook way of thinking that you don't question it.

No matter how long it takes, he waits. He'll watch you analyze each poem and pout for an answer - one he refuses to give. It's all in the chase, after all. He can be patient. All good things come to those who wait.

One cold afternoon, he finds you curled up on the couch in your shared home. A blanket around your shoulders, a hot drink, and the book nestled in your lap. Nothing out of the usual...aside from the pen in your hand hovering over a notebook. Silent as a mouse, he hovers over your shoulder to take a peek and smirks at what has you so miffed.

"Ah...I take it you have words for me, mon coeur. Are they perhaps about a certain mystery?" You jump, and slam the notebook shut before turning around. His eyes crinkle in delight at the sight - his well waited prize. The flush of your cheeks suggest you solved the puzzle and the sweat on your brow shows that you know he knows. Rook rounds about the couch in an instant and crouches on his knees in front of you. He takes your notebook, opens it, and displays the words 'Will You Marry Me?' for you. "Is this your answer? Are you confident?" You nod, avoiding his eyes and he grabs your chin to face him. With a hum of approval, he tips off his hat to pull out a wooden box. In the box is a ring, and he effortlessly slips it onto your finger without asking permission. "Mon moitié...mon trésor. Je te chérirai. Je t'aimerai. Je ne te laisserai jamais partir. Avec cette bague, je suis à toi jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare…"

{A large pearl, nested between two emeralds, and a pure gold band. In Rook's eyes, the ring should compliment the wearer. It is the accent piece to your beauty. It should be comfortable, so you never have reason to remove it. In addition to this, it should also serve as a reminder that he is always looking for you. The pearl represents his untainted affection, and the two emeralds are his all-seeing eyes. He hopes this ring brings feelings of comfort and safety}

He is beauty, he is grace, he will punch you in the face - unless you're the object of his affections. Then you get a get out of jail free card. One use. Reinstated every time his heart skips a beat.

Our young lad is a bit of an unpredictable case when it comes to his emotions. Growing up in a small town like Harveston, there was no one his age to spend time with. NRC became his first exposure to people his age, and that made you his first love by default. He wasn't looking for it, didn't have any way to identify it, and frankly he disliked the emotions at first for various reasons. There is a lot to unpack here.

As everyone knows, Epel has a feminine appearance. The exact opposite of how he feels inside. The frilly clothes his dorm makes him wear do nothing to fix that - and now there is this tingling feeling in his chest that takes away his thought process? No. Just no. Not welcome at all. He needs his wits to make up for his unassuming appearance, and he ain't going to have some stranger twisting that about just because they're a bit attractive. Every apple tastes sweet until you try another kind - he says to himself.

He lets it fester for some time and actively avoids you. He sees the hurt in your eyes at his offput demeanor, but can't do much about it. It's your fault if you want to put yourself out there when everyone knows he's not the biggest talker.

Unfortunately...you stick around. Being in his academic year means that most of your classes align, and eventually your friend group does as well. There is no getting around you, and it doesn't take long for other people to connect the dots. Any chance at him getting a tougher reputation were ruined before they even began.

Eventually his resilience runs out and he gives in. Except now we have reason two - he has no chance with you. Zip. Nada. How Lovely.

Why the h*ll would ya go for this country bumpkin with the social skills of a rock? You'd be crazy to an' he ain't going to put himself out for heartbreak.

Now he's stuck humming love tunes and making carved apples of your face because he has years of pining built up with no outlet. It's pitiable, which makes him seethe because he can't do nothin' about it. Rook teased him once after finding Epel making yet another carving while laying in bed, and barely missed getting an apple to the head. The splattered remains of his fruit art on the wall spoke more than any threat could.

Point being, he is emotionally stunted and so he does not ever confess. Not until you do, that is. In that moment all class flew out of his body and he reverted to the socially challenged boy he was before enrolling at NRC. An extremely rare sight for anyone to see...he cringes thinking back on it. When you first said your feelings, he thought you were pulling a prank and got pissed. When he processed that you were serious, Epel lost control of himself and just blurted his thoughts out like a child.

Which is why his proposal is going to be different. It *has* to be different. This time, he'll be the one to ask you and he'll be prepared to avoid any mess ups. He refuses to be one-upped for such an important moment. This time you will be the flustered mess, and he will be the collected one.

To do this, he chooses to propose back in Harveston where he is most in his element. You'll both stay with his family on a weekend vacation in autumn, which meant there would be plenty of open land to arrange for something nice. Not to mention nice scenery from all the fallen leaves and orchards being in bloom. After a long talk with his family, he'd arrange to take you on a day tour of the land on horseback. Basically flaunt all of his farmboy knowledge for a confidence boost, and at the end of the night he'd light a campfire. With some warm cider, the noises of the night, and calm warmth of the hearth - he'd propose. It was almost perfect. *Almost*.

A simple ring feels too disconnected for Epel, and anything extravagant is too expensive considering the family farm's financial state. So, he decides to make it extra special by carving the ring box himself. Wood isn't that much different than apples...

On the first night he decides to work on some finishing touches after you've gone to sleep, and sits on the front porch to widdle away at the design. Like he does when carving apples, he hums a tune into the night as he focuses. Thoughts of the next day making him a bit louder and more excitable than usual - which, unfortunately wakes you up.

The front door opens and he pays it no heed, thinking it's one of his parents coming out for some fresh air. When you plop down next to him and look at the box - well, to say the earth shattered would be an understatement.

"Why aren't you sleepin'?!" His heart hammers and he tries to hide the box under one of his legs. The reaction being too late, since you already got a good look at it. You quirk an eyebrow at his haste, and a mischievous glint twists in your eye. Without warning, you fight him to see what's behind his back. 'What'cha got there Epel~ Why you so embarased huhu~' you tease and his ears flush a deep red. "It's nothin'! Mind your own buisness" 'Well clearly it's something' "I said it's not for you! Get your hands off me," 'Oh? I thought you liked my hands on you~ It looked like a ring box though. Who're you giving a ring to, huh?' "Dangit maybe you'd find out if ya stopped ruining your own surprises!" In his last attempt to avoid your teasing, he tries to yank away but drops the box. It hits the porch with a thud and the lid pops open to show an engagement ring. "...ah sh*t," he swears and hastily crouches to pick it up. You don't tear your eyes away from it, neither from the carvings or how your name is etched in perfect cursive on the lid. Still on his knee, Epel checks the ring for damage before noticing your shocked stupor. He looks at the box again, and signs through his nose before turning towards you. "I had a whole day planned, y'hear me?! For once, I wanted ta be the one surprisin' you...but seein' how you're all tight lipped now, guess I did a good, huh? So? What'dya say? Will you marry me?"

{Crafted using the common hardwood from one of the many apple trees on the family farm. On the outside, there is a carving of a tree taking roots to symbolize the start of a new life. Definitely not because he was surrounded by trees while working on it, and decided to use them for inspiration. When the box is open, the top lid has your names carved along with the date. Well, the date of his *intended* proposal. That will need to be altered. Inside is a simple rose-gold band with small diamonds. Despite the ring's simplicity, he hopes his efforts to make you feel special are not in vain}

NOTE: Translation for Rook: "I will cherish you. I will love you. I'll never let you go. With this ring, I'm yours till death do us part"

2K notes · View notes

eunoiaflow3r · 1 year

Text

silent treatment - ron weasley x reader

requests open

taglist

warning(s): language, teasing, smut mentions

word count: 1.5k

request(ed): Can you please do a fic where ron gets really sad because hermione dared the reader to ignore ron for a whole day ?

summary: okay so pretty much the request except a little more scandalous 👀 characters are like 17+ (no war)

—————————————————————

Girls night meant pajamas and tonssss of snacks that Fred and George curated. This was a bimonthly tradition that you and the girls came up with to relieve stress and keep some spontaneity in your lives.

You, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny all sat on the ground criss-crossed apple sauce gossiping and chewing on taffy. Then, Ginny suggested truth or dare. You were actually a fan of this game, as you were pretty much up to do anything and you were also inherently honest.

You went a few rounds, confessed a few kisses until Hermione had a dare for you that had her giggling into her hands. “I dare you,” she giggles some more, “to ignore Ronald for an entire day - no exceptions.” You weren’t sure how to react, but you weren’t going to back down either.

“Okay.” you smiled. You could do this. Wouldn’t be that hard, all you have to is avoid him tomorrow and it would be alright.

However, you and Ron have been dating for a few months now and you knew he wasn’t the type to take this lightly. His feelings would definitely be hurt and you hate the thought of hurting him.

The next day you saw Ron at breakfast and usually you would sit next to him, but to make it easier on yourself you sat in between Harry and Hermione with Ron on the other side of Harry. He had said good morning but you pretended you didn’t hear him by stuffing your face and talking to Hermione. Harry didn’t notice a thing but Hermione knew what you were doing.

After breakfast Ron came up to you and put his arm across your shoulders. He kissed your cheek and asked how you slept the night before. It killed you not to hug him back or say anything but you just stared at the ground.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

Still, you stared at the ground and clutched your books tighter to your chest. His voice made you swoon and you wanted to talk to him but you saw Hermione from the corner of your eye grinning and shaking her head.

You walked on and in to class without even looking at Ron again. Luckily, you wouldn’t see him again until Herbology which wasn’t until later in the day.

———

“She wouldn’t even look at me Harry I don’t know what I’ve done.”

Harry was busy mixing his potion while Ron ranted to him about your behavior this morning. He remembered talking to you at breakfast but he didn’t notice that you were specifically not speaking to Ron.

“She’s probably just tired mate you probably didn’t do anything. Maybe she needs space?”

“Space!?” he almost shouted but looked around the room and lowered his voice. “She had plenty of space this morning when she was chatting Hermione’s ear off.”

For the next 10 minutes Harry listened to Ron go over all the reasons (however ridiculous) that you might not be talking to him. Then it hit him…

“Ron, where was Y/N last night?”

“Uhm, with the girls. Their little sleepovers ya’know that they insist on doing.”

“Right….so….what if her behavior is related to that? Like a dare or something?”

Ron thought about it and it made sense. But what was he supposed to do about it? A dare is a dare…unless he made it impossible for you to fulfill it…

———

The day had gone by pretty smoothly - you ate lunch outside and now it was your last class. Except it was Herbology and Ron would be there. You used Luna mostly to avoid him but you could feel his stare across the way. You were outside today and distracted yourself with planting some flowers that the Professor had asked you to.

Sooner or later Ron came over - no gloves in hand or any indication that he came to help.

“Hey babe.” he says.

You kept digging and avoided eye contact.

“I missed you last night,” he begins. He had a teasing tone and you wondered where he was going with this.. “I was in bed, alone, thinking of that time we went to the lake? Do you remember?”

Oh you remembered.

It was night time, a few months ago during the summer and Ron wanted to sneak out and go skinny dipping. You were hesitant at first but Ron was convincing. Once you got in the water it wasn’t actually that bad and pretty warm…Ron had grabbed you by the waist and began kissing you and you forgot why you were so worried in the first place.

You snapped back to reality and tried to hide your warmed cheeks.

“One of our best times, don’t you think? Could barely keep you quiet that night…”

You stood up and turned so that your back was completely facing him. There was no way you could face him and not speak now.

His hand found your hip and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I was all alone thinking about you…missing you…wanting to feel you…and now you won’t even talk to me. Not a look, or a gesture…wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

You could feel him smile against your skin and kissed your cheek before walking away back towards the school, leaving you alone with your now dirty thoughts. He was making this so hard for you. You wanted to talk to him, wanted to explain..but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t lose the game.

———

A few hours later you decided the library would be the best place for you to be. Ron was hardly ever there and you could do some homework while killing the hours until when you could talk to Ron again. You got through a few assignments until you heard whispers a few rows away.

——-

“I tried talking to her but I must’ve really fudged up this time Harry.”

Ron had convinced Harry to come to the library with him so he could mess with you. He and Harry curated a fake conversation so that you would feel bad about your dare and hopefully cave in. Ron’s only regret was that he couldn’t see your face in this moment.

“Try talking to her again, I’m sure what you did couldn’t have been that bad.”

“What if she never speaks to me again Harry? What will I do?”

———

Your heart hurt. You hated hearing Ron sounding so upset. Was this prank really worth it if your boyfriend ends up pained because of it? When you agreed to it it really didn’t seem that bad or dramatic…but now that you’re hours into it you don’t know if you can continue.

Whatever. It’ll be fine, you just have to finish your homework…

10 minutes later you see your boyfriend come over and sit next to you.

“Baby, what’re you doing?”

You continue to do your homework and not look at him. He scoots his chair closer to yours and puts his hand on your thigh and slowly moves it up. Hermione said you couldn’t speak to him…she didn’t say you had to stop him from speaking to you…

He moves your hair away from your neck and kisses you behind your ear and moves down your neck til he gets to your collarbone. You resist the urge to moan and say anything to him. You wanted to talk to your boyfriend and you wanted to tell him he did nothing wrong…and now he was leaving a hickey on your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hermione walk into the library and you gently pushed Ron off and covered your neck so she wouldn’t think you guys were talking. She came over and grinned at the way Ron was pouting right now.

“How’s it going you two? Anything new?”

“New as in my girlfriend won’t speak to me?” Ron asks. “Yeah that’s pretty new.”

“Hermione do you have an extra quill?” You ask.

“Of course I do.”

Luna and Harry make their way over as Hermione hands you the quill.

“Oh is the dare over then?” Luna asks.

Your eyes widened. Luna must’ve assumed since the three of you were together that we must have talked it out….

“Luna!” Hermione whisper shouts.

“Oops….”

You look at Ron and you could feel your face heat up. What would his reaction be? Would he be mad? Sad? Disappointed?

He didn’t say anything. All he did was look at Harry and the both of them started laughing. This made you look at Hermione confused.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“We knew it was a dare, love. How stupid do you think we are?” Ron laughs hugging you close. “I’ll admit it stung at first but then I put the pieces together.”

“After I helped.” Harry rolled his eyes.

You turn to whisper in Ron’s ear. “So all that teasing today?”

“On purpose.” He grinned. “What you thought I wouldn’t get you back? You know who my brothers are…”

————————————————————————————

The End!! Lollll. Hope you enjoyed🤍

#harry potter x reader #ron weasley x reader #ron wealsey x y/n #ron weasley #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley smut #weasley #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #fred wealsey x reader

2K notes · View notes

sunkissedchld · 11 months

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the photo with the love seat, pile two is the heart shaped-potions room without an entrance, and so on and so forth.

take your time to use your intuition to choose the pile that will best resonate with you. lastly, please don’t be afraid to say if the message resonated or not. it helps me in determining if my interpretations are correct or not, and i appreciate any sort of feedback - even if it’s “bad”.

good luck to you, reader 💘

photos courtesy of @poisonnightmares

WARNING: pile iii has a little 18+ mention, but it's nothing graphic nor is it explained in detail

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Dive Into You" by NCT Dream

"Last Night" by Dani Leigh

"TMT" by Stray Kids

Cards:

The Bachelor, The Rose Ceremony, Nine of Rings (Influencer), The Cocktail Party, Knight of Roses (Frontrunner)

Reading:

Your next romantic partner may like how structured and stable you are as a person. You could be a good leader or have heavy masculine energy; you might even embody the traits of "The Emperor" as a tarot card. They may feel as if you're good at making decisions and as if they can trust you with anything. You may have a way of gaining your next romantic partner's attention very easily - you may have Venusian qualities or placements in your chart. Your own beauty may cause your next romantic partner to feel very stunned; you might even leave them speechless often or make them feel as if they need to "step up their game" when being with you.

I also get the feeling your outlook on love or how you operate when you're in love gives your next romantic partner hope in terms of romance. They may have been apprehensive when approaching relationships beforehand, but being with you makes them think that love can exist or that healthy relationships aren't too far-fetched to ask for. You may be someone who is very into love - maybe you're a daydreamer in that sense or a hopeless romantic, and instead of only dreaming of the type of love you want - you make it happen. This might be something that makes your partner addicted to you because it could feel like an everlasting honeymoon phase or because it makes them open their heart in a way they're not used to.

In short, your next romantic partner may be addicted to you because of the authenticity and passion with which you approach love; you may spark in them an appreciation for romance and healthy relationship expectations.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Let Me Love You" by Mario

"I'm Ready" by Nakala

"Twinkle" by Girls' Generation

Cards:

Queen of Flutes (The Caregiver) [Rx], Seven of Mirrors (For the Wrong Reasons) [Rx], Six of Flutes (Butterflies), Ace of Flutes (First Kiss) [Rx], Four of Mirrors (Reassuring Rose)

Reading:

Those who chose this pile may be a little closed off when it comes to romance and love. You might be the type of person who plays hard to get and "doesn't really want to get into relationships", or you feel very jaded because of past relationships. I'm kind of getting the energy of you being a person in distress when it comes to romance. Your next romantic partner will actually like this energy about you! They'll like "the chase" so to speak. They're the type of person that likes engaging with people who are hurt because they like nurturing and healing others. They will find your wounded energy addicting because it makes it easy for them to be the nurturing person they are.

Obviously being aware, some people do like seeking out vulnerable individuals in order to have dominance over them and to create unsafe and unhealthy situations, but that won't be the case for most of you who choose this pile. This person does not have bad intentions; fulfilling this caregiver/healer role is something they just enjoy doing. Your next romantic partner will like being able to change your point of view and show you that a more innocent, maybe even fairytale-like view of love does exist. They're not trying to show you what it's like being in a relationship for the first time, but they are trying to show you what love and relationships can be like going forward - with or without them. They are all about easing your worries.

Overall, your next romantic partner will find your reluctance to love addicting. They will like the idea of having to work hard to make you open up your heart in order to feel more relief when it comes to dating. They find needing to work for your validation and happiness addicting.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Burn" by Andra Day

"You Can't Win" by Michael Jackson

"Too Loud" by G-Eazy (feat. Nef the Pharaoh)

Cards:

Knight of Roses (The Frontrunner), Two of Mirrors (Two on One) [Rx], The Bachelor, The Villain, Three of Mirrors (Red Flags), Eight of Mirrors (In Your Head)

Reading:

Some of the people who chose this pile might also be attracted to pile one; I feel like it'll be very few of you though. This pile feels like the first one in a different font and context. There's a lot of Mirrors energy, so there's a focus on communication and your way of thinking. Your next romantic partner may be addicted to you because you're a very passionate, go-getter who knows when to get confrontational. You could be someone who is a little detached from their emotions, or who knows how to use them to your advantage. You know how to get whatever it is you want - including your next romantic partner.

I'm kind of getting "bad bitch" energy. Your energy and way of living may naturally draw people to you, and your next partner may be someone who falls under your spell. The addicting part of you is very heavy in this reading - more so than the other piles. Your next romantic partner might even find how mean you are to them addicting. This could be in an 18+ way in that they like degradation or having you be dominant; it could also be this person likes how you're able to be mean to others. Going back to what was said before, you may be the type of person who knows when conflict is needed, and you could have no problem arguing with or even fighting people who you deem "deserve it". They really like your assertiveness!

For the most part, your next romantic partner will like your mean and/or abrasive personality. They'll like the way you stand up for yourself, and they could really enjoy it when you show off your dominance.

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Are you That Somebody" by Aaliyah

"Waiting" by Woodz

"Good Girls" by 5 Seconds of Summer

Cards:

King of Roses (The Executive Producer) [Rx], Eight of Rings (Camera Guy), The Moon, Five of Flutes (I Fucked Up) [Rx]

Reading:

Your next romantic partner finds your cautionary attitude addicting. I'm intuitively reminded of the song, "Wait For It" from Hamilton the Musical. You may be the type of person who comes off a little mysterious; you could be the type of person who is always waiting for "the perfect timing" or find yourself holding back because you want to be sure you're doing everything right. You may like playing it safe and following the expectations that others place on you. I'm also reminded of "Good Girls" by Five Seconds of Summer, although this reading isn't gendered in any way! They like that you are predictable and reliable in a sense.

They may also like that you're always paying attention to your surroundings and people around you. You could be an empath or someone who is just great at picking up on other people's emotions and feelings, whether they show it blatantly or not; you could be very in tune with your intuition. They also adore how you're always able to move on from things and never hold grudges against others or towards yourself. I get the sense your next romantic partner might feel like people treat you like a doormat or a pushover, and they like your willingness to (almost) never get upset about that, but it also kind of irritates them. They could like how they feel they almost need to step up for you in a way. It could be that your next partner is very assertive and quick when doing things in their life, but you're the total opposite in that you can be a little passive and slow about what you do in your life; they like this opposite dynamic!

In general, your next romantic partner will like the "opposites attract" type of dynamic you two will have. They like that you're a little more apprehensive about the choices you make, and they adore your willingness to assume the best of people.

#tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #tarotblr #sunkissedchld

434 notes · View notes

synamartia · 2 months

Text

[ 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 ]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #x reader #alastor smut #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader smut #smut #synamartia #Haunted Series

144 notes · View notes

sunkissedchldrecon · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the photo with the love seat, pile two is the heart shaped-potions room without an entrance, and so on and so forth.

WARNING: pile iii has a little 18+ mention, but it's nothing graphic nor is it explained in detail

good luck to you, reader 💘

photos courtesy of @poisonnightmares

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Dive Into You" by NCT Dream

"Last Night" by Dani Leigh

"TMT" by Stray Kids

Cards:

The Bachelor, The Rose Ceremony, Nine of Rings (Influencer), The Cocktail Party, Knight of Roses (Frontrunner)

Reading:

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Let Me Love You" by Mario

"I'm Ready" by Nakala

"Twinkle" by Girls' Generation

Cards:

Queen of Flutes (The Caregiver) [Rx], Seven of Mirrors (For the Wrong Reasons) [Rx], Six of Flutes (Butterflies), Ace of Flutes (First Kiss) [Rx], Four of Mirrors (Reassuring Rose)

Reading:

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Burn" by Andra Day

"You Can't Win" by Michael Jackson

"Too Loud" by G-Eazy (feat. Nef the Pharaoh)

Cards:

Knight of Roses (The Frontrunner), Two of Mirrors (Two on One) [Rx], The Bachelor, The Villain, Three of Mirrors (Red Flags), Eight of Mirrors (In Your Head)

Reading:

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Are you That Somebody" by Aaliyah

"Waiting" by Woodz

"Good Girls" by 5 Seconds of Summer

Cards:

King of Roses (The Executive Producer) [Rx], Eight of Rings (Camera Guy), The Moon, Five of Flutes (I Fucked Up) [Rx]

Reading:

#tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #Spotify #tarotblr

974 notes · View notes

mysteryshoptls · 6 months

Text

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: Today, I take on the role as a supporter of this museum. I'll make sure to promote well the beauty and wonder of these works of art.

Summon Line: Taking in all of these beautiful things will allow me to develop my own beauty further. I'll be taking my time to appreciate as much as I can today.

Groooovy!!: I refuse to accept a happy ending brought about by someone else. I will fulfill my dreams by my own hand.

Home: Time to celebrate the 100th anniversary.

Home Idle 1: The brilliant luster of the fabric and small accessories nicely accentuates this seemingly simple monochrome attire. Not bad at all.

Home Idle 2: There is a thin line between poisons and potions. The Fairest Queen must have delved into her research to further her understanding of their differences. She truly is someone worth our respect.

Home Idle 3: Ortho says he'd like to hold a conversation with the Lord of the Underworld. Seems as though he would like to utilize his sense of humor as a base for his acting.

Home Idle - Login: You'd like me to speak on the painting of the Fairest Queen? I suppose I could, as long as you stay attentive. If you dare to yawn during my exposition... Heh, you should prepare for the consequences.

Home Idle - Groovy: Beauty cannot be achieved in a single day, and the same could be said for a physically pristine body. Jack and I are very similar in how we will constantly endeavor towards our goals without fail.

Home Tap 1: Trey saw a painting of the Queen of Hearts smiling and commented that she had lovely teeth. Only he would focus on that...

Home Tap 2: The exhibits each give a different emotional impact based on the brightness of the lights and the way the works are illuminated. I can tell this museum has put much thought into its lighting.

Home Tap 3: I'd like to improve my drawing skills. Simply because I would like to make my own proposals if I ever have the opportunity to work with one of my favorite brands.

Home Tap 4: When I approached Malleus, he elucidated on the painting of the Thorn Fairy. He spoke of tales uniquely passed down among faes, so it was quite the learning experience.

Home Tap 5: There are so many wonderful exhibits here, and yet here you are just staring at me. I fully understand why you would, but try to focus on the paintings.

Home Tap - Groovy: You seem to be in high spirits. Were you that elated to listen to my explanations of the artwork? Yes, of course you were.

Duo: [VIL]: We'll silence them all, Jack! [JACK]: Absolutely, Vil-senpai!

Birthday Login Message: [Yuu pops party popper] Thank you for the birthday surprise. That was a rather elaborate one, too. I especially enjoyed how you tripped over your lines, despite the fact that you were lying in wait to ambush me for quite some time. That wasn't on purpose? Obviously. If that was an act, it would be something worth scouting.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil shoenheit #jack howl #twst vil #twst jack #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: ortho #mention: jack #mention: trey #mention: malleus

340 notes · View notes

atrueneutral · 6 months

Text

Bath, Bed & Beyond - Raphael x Tav

After weeks of constant battles and near-death-experiences, it was a slap in the face that the Crown of Karsus ended up in the Chionthar.

It could have fallen anywhere else but in the river.

It could have been easy.

Had it landed on the docks, Tav would have plucked it from the ground like any other item she pilfered. She’d have put it in her pack and would have promptly gone off to deliver the all-powerful Netherese artifact to Raphael - satisfying the terms of her contract.

But no! Nothing was ever as easy as it could have been; it wasn’t easy convincing Rolan to spend time on the docks casting spells on her and supplying her with potions; it wasn’t easy deep diving into the murky river waters for days on end; and it certainly wasn’t easy finding the godsdamn Crown of Karsus!

Bloody thing was a pain in her ass…

She should have listened to her friends, and she shouldn’t have made a deal with a devil…

Much to Rolan’s chagrin, Raphael had shown a number of times over the course of her search. He, apparently, “wanted to see how she was faring”, and, according to the wizard, seemed to find amusement in her desperation of trying to find the object that would see him rule the Hells.

One night, after failing to find her missing treasure, Tav wondered out loud why Raphael didn’t help her; it didn’t make sense that he’d prolong his ambitions after all of the salivating he did whenever he spoke of the Crown.

Rolan suggested maybe there was a secret time limit buried in the nooks and crannies of her contract. Maybe Raphael wanted her to fail because he wanted her soul.

“He’s waited this long, I’m sure he can afford to wait a bit longer to ensure he gets both you and the Crown of Karsus. He’s a devil - are you really so surprised that he’d desire to keep you as well?”

To that, she called Rolan crazy, but Tav searched harder in the days that followed (out of fear that she was racing an invisible clock), and she eventually found what she was looking for.

—

Tav entered the Devil’s Den without knocking. She cared not that it was rude. She cared little about anything outside of fulfilling her contract, taking a bath, and sleeping for a very, very long time. Fatigue wreaked havoc on her body after recent events and days of stressful swimming, and the too long of a walk that brought her to Rivington drained her to the brink of wanting to fall over.

She ambled into the suite, and Raphael’s mortal visage made a face at her appearance - namely her water-logged countenance of damp hair and damp clothes that reeked of river water.

She hoped her exhaustion came off as apathy.

“Your message stated you had something specific for me?” he asked.

He was referencing the message she sent with a Scroll of Sending roughly an hour and a half ago. With it, she said: “I have your stupid Crown. Where should I meet you? Are you coming to the docks? Please come to the docks.”

Panting had, unfortunately, been included in-between some of her words.

Tav blinked, and her eyes went from staring longingly at the steaming bath littered with flower petals to the cambion who appraised her with a raised brow.

“I do,” she answered, and Tav reached into her pack for the Crown. She crossed over to him, revealed the artifact, and Raphael’s mask of composure cracked.

Ambition bled from the fissures - his dreams would not remain dreams much longer…

With the current most important dream realized, a shaky breath left Raphael as he accepted and held the Crown in his hand. Tav rummaged around for the Netherstones, and she placed them on a nearby desk when it became clear that Raphael was having a moment between himself and his new shiny and dangerous toy.

She glanced down to see if he had an erection, and sure enough, a bulge was forming from inside his pants.

“Raphael?” she prompted.

“Hm?”

The Crown and fantasies of grandeur had successfully enthralled him.

“Is my contract fulfilled?”

“Yes.”

When he did not procure said contract, Tav sighed.

“Can I trust that you’ll see to completing my contract… when you’re done?”

“Mm, yes.”

Rolan was wrong; he did not want her or her soul. Raphael’s interest in his little mouse was purely in being a delivery tool for his precious artifact, and Tav found herself feeling oddly crestfallen at the verdict. It was nothing more than devilish amusement (or a form of punishment) that kept him from helping her fetch the Crown from the Chionthar.

“Great, thank you. Goodbye, Raphael.”

She turned and took a step for the door.

“Leaving so soon, Little Mouse?”

The rich purr of his voice stilled her.

“The delivery has been made, and you are preoccupied,” she answered, facing him again.

“Pardon my momentary lapse - I assure you it won’t happen again.” As if to make a point, he went to where the Netherstones were gathered and placed the Crown beside them. He leaned against the desk, blocking the artifact’s view from him and her. “Thank you for bringing me the Crown. I knew you wouldn’t fail - just as you knew failure wasn’t an option. You must regale me what the depths of the Chionthar look like sometime over dinner. The smell of the river, however, I could do without.”

Understanding his insinuation that she smelled, she gave him a thin lipped smile. “Then I shall be on my way...”

“You misunderstand, my dear!” Raphael gestured theatrically for the bath, and his features became predatory. “Stay awhile, won’t you? I will fulfill your contract before your very eyes, and you will sleep soundly tonight knowing you made the right choice in bargaining with a devil.”

The bath did look inviting…

“If you’d like, you have my permission to rest your weary head in this room,” he continued. “The bed is quite cozy - not nearly as comfortable as the bed in my House of Hope, but you know that already, don’t you?”

Tav’s blood went cold at his mention of her uninvited visit.

“Sorry about that…” she offered sheepishly, meaning it. Haarlep’s use of her body had become a nuisance, yet it often aroused her to think it was Raphael who benefitted and used the unintentional gift she left behind.

Based on the look in his eyes, he did.

Snap!

A contract materialized from within a plume of smoke and embers, and the infernal words etched into the parchment glowed. At Raphael’s behest and a wave of his hand, a new emblem-like symbol was magically inscribed before the parchment went up in flames.

“It’s been an Absolute pleasure doing business with you, Little Mouse.”

Oh no - his stare was making her feel warm in places.

Maybe Rolan was right in some regard.

Maybe Raphael did want her.

“Likewise,” Tav responded. “And I appreciate you loaning me the room.”

She waited for him to leave.

She expected him to leave.

Oh no.

He wasn’t leaving.

“Aren’t you leaving?” she questioned, intending on taking advantage of his offer to stay and use the room’s bath and bed.

“Leave? And miss the sight of you bathing? I think not.”

She flushed.

“Ah.” Tav peered at the bath, then back at Raphael. “You’re not planning on joining me are you?”

He smiled devilishly. “Would you like me to?”

Yes.

“No, that’s alright.” Tav went to the bath and began to shed her pack and gear. When it came time to remove her boots, she decided to test the waters by turning the act of undressing into a show. She sat upon the bath’s edge and, with deliberate slowness, gracefully peeled away her footwear. “Are the flower petals your idea or are they an added flourish from the staff?”

“Do you like them?”

“I do.”

“They are my personal touch - just for you.”

The expression she threw at him while she undressed was filled with skepticism.

“You can stop trying to charm me, Raphael. The contract is done, you got what you wanted, and I’m in the middle of taking my clothes off.” Somewhere along the way her voice became decidedly more… seductive. “I wouldn’t normally allow you to watch the latter, but it’s conjecture to think that you’ve already seen me naked.”

It was thrilling to see that she enthralled him just as much as the Crown of Karsus. He was silent, his eyes blazing as he watched her stand and push her breeches down. Tav’s thumbs next hooked into the top of her panties and she slowly, teasingly, shimmied the undergarment past her thighs. They pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of them and her breeches, pushing both aside to be with the rest of her stripped attire.

He could not yet see her sex, as it was hidden by her tunic, but the shirt was soon gracefully pulled over her head and thrown onto the pile.

Raphael visibly swallowed.

Tav reached around to undo the fastenings of her brasserie. The undergarment went slack, and she quickly held the front to her with a hand before it could fall away.

She turned to face the bathwater and discarded the top with a flick of the wrist.

The cambion let out a low hum. Whether in approval of seeing her bare backside or in disapproval or not seeing her nude state in its entirety, she couldn’t tell.

“Was this your plan?” Tav asked innocently as she bravely stepped into the steaming water. It was hot - excessively hot, but after waging and winning a war against a Netherbrain, after spending too long in the cold Chionthar, and after completing a deal with a devil…

It was heaven.

“What plan are you speaking of, my dear? I have many.”

Tav waded to the center of the bath, water rippling up to her thighs. She glanced at the cambion from over her shoulder with a smirk, and then rotated to give him a full-frontal view.

A deep-rooted hunger befell Raphael, and Tav mentally marked a point under her name: where the Crown failed in fully arousing him, she succeeded.

“When I sent my message to you, you sounded insistent on meeting here and advised that I shouldn’t tarry. You could have come to the docks, which, by the sound of things, you were fond of doing.” Tav lowered into the water while wincing and biting her lip at the temperature. “I was going to accuse you of wanting me smelly and exhausted so you could easily persuade me to take a bath as you watched, but, now that I’m thinking about it, I do recall there being a full bath and a smattering of flower petals when I initially met you here and signed the contract. Who was the bath for then? Voss? My companions and I?”

“I was merely setting the scene for my most important client of the day! I would never go to such efforts for Voss, nor your companions - nor for any other mortal whose name is but a tiny drop in the ocean of souls I’ve collected. It was all for you, Little Mouse.” Raphael crept towards the bath - a predator moving in on his prey. “Today I wished again to set the scene - with a reward. Now that you are without your troublesome friends and an even more troublesome tadpole, you can relax and enjoy without impediment! Soak, my dear! Soak and be content in your hard-earned and well-deserved bath, then off to bed with you…”

Tav reached for a fresh bar of soap that smelled distinctly like cherries and she ran it across her chest after wetting it. She batted eyelashes that suddenly felt heavy due to the talk of bed.

“Are you going to tuck me in, Raphael?”

His chuckle was downright sinful.

“Yes, I’ll even read you a bedtime story.”

“Oh?” Tav languidly rubbed aromatic suds into her skin. “What’s the story about?”

His eyes followed her hands.

“A fox who secured all that he wanted.”

Tav smiled and she briefly submerged herself.

“Did the fox secure the woods?” she asked after breaking through the water’s surface.

“He did, and the neighboring woods.”

She placed the bar of soap back onto the edge, and Tav scratched at her scalp and combed fingers through her hair.

“I presume he secured the animals inside of the woods as well?”

“Every single one.”

She made a point to stare into brown, dilated eyes.

“Including the mouse?”

“You’re going to spoil the story for yourself…”

It was at that moment that a yawn formed in her throat. She did her best to ignore the symptom of drowsiness (things were becoming interesting), but the yawn was persistent enough to force an escape. Tav covered what she could, but it was the kind of yawn that made her eyes water. When she blearily looked at the cambion, the desire on his face had been replaced with warm humor.

“I was wondering how long you would be able to keep your guise up,” he remarked.

Another smaller and shorter yawn broke through.

“Finish up,” Raphael ordered, and he walked away - disappearing to the other half of the room.

Tav complied. She rinsed out her hair, finished scrubbing in all the necessary places, and by the time she was done, Raphael had returned. He held out a plush red towel for her to take when she moseyed to the bath’s edge and climbed out.

“Thanks,” Tav said, fighting back what could possibly be an endless string of yawns. The towel was soft and thick, smelled like Raphael, and she made a note to steal it in the morning as she wrung out her hair and dried herself off.

“I won’t miss it,” Raphael said knowingly.

“How - I don’t steal everything, you know,” she scoffed.

“I am aware.”

Tav made a new mental note - to not steal the towel in the morning.

Sufficiently dried, she cheekily dropped the towel to the floor and peered at a bed that had been prepped for sleeping.

The urge to sprint and throw herself into the covers was extinguished when she was unexpectedly scooped up by arms and swept off her feet.

“This is becoming ridiculous,” Tav muttered. Despite her tone, and against her better judgment, she foolishly liked the feeling of being held by the cambion - the feeling of his hands on her...

“Did you not ask to be tucked in?” Raphael retorted, carrying her naked body up the couple steps that led to the bedroom portion of the suite.

She was too tired to think of a witty comeback, so Tav stayed silent while Raphael transferred her over to the bed.

“What do you normally sleep in, Little Mouse?”

Usually just her smallclothes.

Tav glanced up at him. “I sleep naked, of course.”

His eyes flared, and she could read that he wanted to do far more than simply tuck her in.

He gently laid her upon the satin bedding. A fluffy pillow was beneath her head, and the sheets were smooth against her skin. Raphael reached over to draw the top sheet and comforter over her, and Tav was enveloped by heavenly, toasty warmth.

“Would it be possible to have the room for the next day or two?” she murmured, making herself snug under the covers.

Her eyes closed as the fox smiled brightly.

“Oh, my Little Mouse, stay as long as you’d-”

And she was out.

#this started out as a prompt fill but turned into something else #womp womp #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x tav fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 #my writing #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

203 notes · View notes

wenamedthedogkylo · 1 year

Text

I already said this in my other post but this really deserves to stand on its own and honestly I'm crying over it so it has to get written down somewhere, but when Bor'Dor took a pull from Ashton's pipe, the smoke turned into an image of him shooting a Fire Bolt at the janky, creepy, lovingly set up dummy that the Hells had made for him. The target that his own targets made out of admiration for him, out of affection, out of genuinely wanting to see him grow his potential.

Ashton's pipe showed that the greatest, most heroic moment of Bor'Dor's life was casting Fire Bolt at that target, and getting to celebrate it with the rest of the Hells. It was feeling accepted for the first time in his life. Feeling respected. Feeling like he belonged, like he and his magic belonged and weren't some horrible, dangerous thing that they would fear him for or would have a temple come and cart him away for.

These people—who he somehow either followed across an ocean or luckily ran into—who he specifically stayed with because he intended to kill them for sabotaging the Ruby Vanguard's plans. For killing "his friends" in Marquet.

These people were the ones he finally felt accepted by. Not the Ruby Vanguard.

He gave Ashton the first piece of mental relief and relaxation they'd felt in years, maybe ever. He gave them jerky, and made them fruit leather, and caught a little fish and had Prism Enlarge it to make sure they could eat. Was he telling himself it was just to ingratiate himself to them, to get closer so the knife would be easier to twist? When did ingratiating himself become "I wanted you to like me"? Did he have to keep convincing himself it was all part of the plan, that he didn't really like them, that he didn't want to keep them alive but he had to to get his revenge, that he could let them die at any moment and this wasn't just him getting attached because how could he get attached to people he meant to kill?

Did Bor'Dor realize, in the moment that he decided to try killing them in that cave, that the Vanguard had only ever seen him as a weapon? That his "friends" who'd died in Marquet (he'd watched Ashton throw some of their bodies out of the Hole just days ago) wouldn't have sought revenge for his death the same way, because he was nothing more than a tool for one man's schemes? Did he realize he had more in common with Orym who'd lost all his loved ones to Ludinus and Otohan and the Vanguard—with Laudna and her myriad of terrifying, beautiful magical gifts and her desire to do good with them—than he'd ever had in common with anyone in the Vanguard?

Is that part of why he just tried to run?

It didn't have to be this way!

Bor'Dor healed most of the group right after fighting the Taker. He knew that his Vitriolic Sphere probably wouldn't kill all of them, that they had health potions and could recover. He just needed to get away. Get away so that they couldn't come after him, and he didn't have to see how he'd hurt the only people who'd welcomed him into their hearts in years, and he could tell himself that maybe they did die and he'd fulfilled his mission, and could tell himself too that maybe they didn't die and he hadn't actually killed his only real friends in the world.

I saw you! In Marquet! You murdered my friends!

Was he really still angry at the Hells for killing Ruby Vanguard members? Or was he trying desperately to fight back against how much they cared about him? How much they had genuinely reached out and taken him in? How much it was going to hurt him to hurt them? Was he trying to cling to his original purpose, so that he could ignore how much it hurt to kill the first people who'd seen his magic and said "you're amazing" and meant it? Who'd said "can I try something", "what else can you do", "it's nice to know I'm not alone, because you're in the same boat as me"?

And when he gave up... when he didn't try to fight back... when he begged for the end because there was no point anymore...

The Vanguard wasn't enough to stay alive for. And he'd just betrayed the only people who'd ever completely accepted him. There was no point anymore. No point in fighting. No point in living. He was done. He'd had enough.

Bor'Dor Dog'Son deserves his peace. I'm glad he got it.

#Critical Role #campaign 3 #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #campaign 3 spoilers #critical role meta #critical role theory #c3 meta #c3 theory #Bree's stuff #about me #about Bree #fuck I'm crying again

589 notes · View notes

senseichaos · 8 months

Note

Howdy howdy! I ADORED "You Can't Run. Hell. You Can't Even Hide" The balance between absolute fear, dizzy hypnotic confusion, and wide eyed admiration that the reader character holds for Vox is immaculate! Also them calling him Mister Vox is just Chef's kiss (it is WAY too hard to find xReader fics or even just fics in general where the honorific is Mister (C/N) and I love every one I find). The clothing change moment was probably my favorite, I'll always be a sucker for the representation of being broken and rebuilt in someone's image combined with the gift of pretty clothes. I keep going back to reread the whole story.

I know it's a oneshot, but since your requests are open, I figured I'd shoot my shot and ask if you would make a part two where Mister Vox just wrecks us, preferably sexually. We did leave off on him finding us trying to run away, do we not deserve to be punished for such an offense after all he's done for us? I also would love to see if/how much Vox has to push us to slowly become happy to be his, if that's something he wants (I could imagine having a rowdy unwilling runaway as his possession would get frustrating after awhile and be terrible for his image). There's honestly so much potential for what could happen next, and even though I could stew in my imagination, I would very much love to be at the mercy of your interpretation of the funky TV man a little longer.

That said, take your time, I know you've gotten a huge influx of Hazbin requests, hell I wouldn't be surprised if someone else already requested something similar to what I requested. I also understand if you can't/don't want to fulfill this request for any reason, that's what makes it a request. No matter what, you're an amazing writer and I hope you have a wonderful day!

💙✨

AAAAAAH!! I love you sm! When I saw this request I knew I had to do it at some point! I'm giving you the name 💙 anon from now on so if you request again I know it's you!

_______

Forever and always

(part 2 to: You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either)

Summary: After that day you attempted to escape from Vox, you had become somewhat accustomed to this new life you are forced to be living. Or you were until Vox gives you your first day off, causing you to find something out that would change how you live forever.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Horror (?)

Warnings: Non-Con, Yandere behavior, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Masochism, Electric shocks, Mind control, Drugging, Love potion, Vox is an asshole, Hurtful language, forced, gilded cage, soul contracts, unprotected sex (DONT), Vox owns reader, dacryphilia, let me know if I missed any!!

(not proof read)

--------

That day you attempted to escape from your gilded cage you wished to escape again, though vox had managed to continue his control. Even when he tugged you back by your electric leash you felt that horrid sinking feeling. This was it. For the rest of eternity as you know it Vox has you. He owns you, your soul, your body, your life; or well, lack thereof. You couldn't run from him no matter what you did, he practically controls the pride ring, keeping you tethered there like a puppy on a leash is simple to him. He has eyes everywhere. You cannot hide anywhere.

Recently Mister Vox has become a lot more... Touchy. Those fleeting touches of his fingers against your back, poking against your chin, pressing into your neck, swiping against your bottom, touching against your bosom. There is an odd burning feeling to it, you don't want to enjoy Mister Vox touching you in such ways, you don't want to enjoy it when he sucks his teeth at you or licks his tongue against his gums. But you do. You can't quench that desire. Especially when he'd moved you into his room from your apartment building. He hadn't made you share a bed with him, thank Lucifer, but he had made you sleep near enough to him that you can tell when he's.. pleasuring himself. Almost as if he wants you to hear him.

You and Mister Vox have never been better, besides from such hurdles. You stay obedient no matter how badly you wish to escape his arms. To cut all of his tight bounds on your body and run away. You'd figure out how, one day, you would.

"Good morning my dear! Did you have a gratifying sleep?" This is how most mornings go, Mister Vox will wake you with a poke if your side and a coffee in hand, already fully dressed and done up. You've always considered yourself a light sleeper, so you never know how he manages to make you a coffee every morning without so much as stirring you awake. You smile, nodding softly as you pry your eyes from his two dimensional face.

"Thank you Mister Vox, uhm.. did you have a good sleep as well?" You ask, taking a sip of the perfectly made coffee. Vox smiles, nodding as he takes a seat on the side of your bed.

"Of course, my dear. So, I know you have been working very hard recently... So I've decided to give you the day off!" Mister Vox declares, outstretching his hands as he gives you a manic smile. A day off? Why? This has to be a test. he's just going to leave you.. alone? For a whole day? This has to be fake, a joke, a flook.

"Oh my dear don't look so surprised! You've been a very good girl recently so I thought you deserved a day off," Mister Vox pauses, looking up at the roof for a second before peering back at you. "Now don't think this means we don't have rules, you are to stay in here for the day. If you want to go shopping I have to accompany you, alright? But I do have an appointment in an hour so it won't be for long,"

"Remember, I have eyes everywhere.."

You laugh awkwardly, shrinking into your own figure.

"I know Mister Vox.. I wouldn't forget," You can't stop that sorrow from entering your voice, but quickly you put on that mask of a smile once again. Mister Vox clasps his hands together, that red dripping from his maw again. "Great! Now I'll see you soon, be a good girl for me, hm?" He says, ruffling your hair atop your head with a condescending gaze.

"Yes Mister Vox," you reply simply, watching as he disappears in Into a blue line of electricity, shooting into the camera.

Fuck. Now what?

You can't remember the last time you were given this type of freedom, even if it wasn't a lot of freedom. Often you were tethered to Vox's side. Everyone in the building knows that you belong to Vox. Everyone outside of the building probably knows this, too.

There's this odd feeling in your stomach, this odd feeling as if you were floating. It happened every time you drank your morning coffee, but you'd always assumed it was just that feeling of awakening from slumber. But today, oh today it is stronger than ever before. It's as if you can feel every nerve in your body be rewired, every single hair on your body stand on end. Every sensation is doubled.

What the fuck was in this coffee? What is this euphoria? What is this yearning.. this yearning for Vox? You suddenly wish he was here, with you, holding you, calling you his good girl.. m

Shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you stand from your bed, fixing the large blue shirt you wear (that vox often asks you to wear when you sleep) as you walk to the kitchen.

The kitchen in Mister Vox's room is a large area just off to the side of his desk space, lined with many kitchen appliances and red cabinets. You are determined to figure out what he's putting in your coffee, what's making you feel so emotional. Needy. Awful. You scan the room, finding the coffee machine in the corner of the room with a couple bags next to it. Coffee, sugar, creamer... Nothing suspicious yet, it seems. Crouching down, you look open the cabinets beneath the coffee machine. Looking through the half full area.

Then you saw it, a small vial hidden behind a spare bag of creamer labeled 'Valentino and Velvette: Love potion'.

Terror shoots through you, causing you to drop the vial to the floor. It shatters everywhere, leaving the pink liquid to seep into the tiles below. He's drugging you. All this time, you feeling this want for him, burning at his touch, listening to him as he jerks himself off late at night. You wanting him to do things to you. It's all part of his plan to make you his, completely. To make you want to be his.

Burning tears fall down your cheeks, humoring you as you stand on shaky legs from the tile. What do you do? Now more than ever you want an out, a loophole, a way to take your soul back from his greedy claws. Anxiety, terror, hurt, worry, pain.

You want to prevent yourself from doing anything drastic, you really do. But all you can feel is this pain, this pain as you run on your feet to the balcony door. Trying your hardest to pry open the doors as they rattle loudly, shaking them, pulling them, pushing them. This evil man can't keep you here for any longer. You'd do anything to leave, ruin yourself for him, do something awful, make yourself less attractive to him.

Nausea. Headache. Your knees buckle as an electric blue overtakes your vision. What is this? You can't breathe, Vox. Vox. Help. Your head clouds, words fill your brain and you feel yourself being wrapped up by sharp claws. You can't scream. Help me. Please.

"You really think it's that easy?" Mister Vox.

"I can't believe I trusted you alone, even for a minute. After all I've done for you, as well. After I gave you a life some would dream for. Stupid girl." He sounds mad, horridly mad. Regretful. Throbbing takes over your body as sound waves film your ears. You can feel him lift you into his arms, placing you down onto a soft surface harshly.

"How am I supposed to make you understand this? You're mine,"

Your vision slowly comes back, until all you can see is him as he stares at you from above. His eyes are dark, domineering, needing. He's ready to take. What is he doing? All you can feel is his claw as it travels up your middle, between the valley of your breasts, stopping at the middle of your neck.

"Now, my dear? Are you going to let me teach you a lesson? For being such a brat?" You gasp, feeling his hand as it circles around your neck, effectively taking some air from your lungs. You shake your head, attempting to move your heavy legs from him with wet teary eyes.

"Nonono! Get off, please, get off!" You cry, writhing in his grasp. He sighs, rolling his eyes as he clicks his fingers. Suddenly a pulse of electricity goes through you, causing a shock to blur your eyes and pull a scream from you.

"Every time you try anything I'm shocking you, Dove. Don't try to escape from me, it's not going to work," he grins, laughing at your frightened teary eyes. "I can do whatever I want to you, my dear! I fucking own you!!" He growls, using his hand that isn't around your neck to push your thighs to your chest, revealing your bare pussy from beneath your oversized shirt.

"No please.. I'll do anything..?"

"Oh I'm sorry dear, but this is what I want more than anything right now.. maybe you should have thought of this before making such a racket and alerting everyone in the building, hm?" He says, dragging his clawed finger through your building wetness. He finally takes his hand from your neck, instead using it to keep your thighs in place as he pinches your clit between his sharp claws.

"Ah! Mister Vox.. hurts..!" You wail, wiping your tears from your eyes as he continues to abuse your sensitive bud between his fingers. He chuckles looking up at you as you gasp in pain.

"Hah! Wail all you want, dear, no one can save you." Vox guffaws, finally taking his claws from your clit. Only to plunge them into your aching hole without warning. You moan out, feeling the sharpness of them inside of you as he curls his fingers into your g-spot.

Mister Vox revels in your wails of pain and pleasure, fucking you with his clawed fingers harsh and fast. His claws are surely are scratching you from the Inside, he can tell by the way your hands tremble and clasp over your lips.

You can't help but feel good. This masochism of yours that forces it's way into you. Every scratch of his fingers inside of you just makes you want to cum. You can't give him that satisfaction, you can't let him know that you are enjoying every second of his claws thrusting inside of you. This is awful. You hate it. You hate that you love it.

"Is my little dove enjoying this? Awe.. to scared to admit you fucking love this?" Vox laughs sadistically, giving you an extremely harsh thrust of his fingers into your g-spot. You squeal, vision going white for a moment as his fingers go at this manic speed. You feel your orgasm build, wishing to break through the walls and release. But you can't let it, you won't let him have that. You'll never let him have that feeling knowing he's won.

"If you don't cum I'll fucking ruin you, dove."

You gasp and choke on saliva, clawing on the bedsheets below as he forces you to orgasm. There's no getting out. He knows that you are trying not to cum. And he won't let it happen.

"Yes.. Mister Vox.." you say softly, hole clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Vox makes sure to drag it out, giving you slow rhythmic thrusts of his fingers to watch your body contract and writhe with pleasure.

"Good dove, listening to commands for me," He says softly, stroking the side of your cheek as he kneels between your legs. You want to pull away, but once again that burning and yearning feeling fills you. That stupid potion had an effect, and you can tell. From the way you feel a dizzy want when he looks at you to the wetness that continues to build between your thighs.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you so hard.." He laughs so himself, smiling crazily as he presses his hand to his face. "I'm gonna fuck you SO FUCKING hard, you won't even remember who I am anymore! How does that sound, my little slut?" Your lower lip wobbles as more tears threaten to fall from your eyes.

"Awful.." you whisper.

Another strong electric shock goes through you, causing you to scream out Mister Vox's name in pain as your body is left shaking and aching.

From the corner of your eye, you see Vox unzipping his fly.

"Wrong answer! Haha! Wrong fucking answer stupid slut," He growls, pressing the tip of his cock to your hole without a care. There something wrong with him, he's acting more crazy than ever before. He's getting off on your fear, getting off on your pain, getting off on knowing you can't do anything but be his.

With a loud slap, Vox sinks his entire length into you. You scream, clutching onto the bedsheets for dear life as he looms over you. He doesn't even give you a moment to let you rest, immediately setting a ruthless pace with his hips into yours. Every thrust causes your vision to go spotty with the pure force he drives his hips with, groaning with every thrust as he stares completely into your face as it scrunches in a pleasurable pain.

"S'too much! M-Mister vox It hurts!" You cry, reaching out to press your hands against his shoulders, clawing into his coat. You don't even care anymore, you want at least a small bit of comfort from these strong unforgiving thrusts. Vox chuckles at this, leaning down closer so he can capture your lips in a (forced) yet passionate kiss.

His long electric blue tongue immediately finds its way into your gob, passionately fornicating it against your own as his thrusts send you into a sort of floaty state. Vox maps the entirety of your mouth, tasting every crevice of you from your lips to the back of your throat. He thrusts almost ravenously like a dog, tip of his cock sometimes painfully pressing against your cervix.

Pulling away, Mister Vox looks Into your eyes, revelling in the way you claw at his back. You whimper and moan loudly, eyes fluttering closed as a tear falls down your cheek. He kisses it away, looking up at your closed eyes with a grin.

"Open your eyes, dove. Look at me while I fuck you." You cry out, opening your eyes for him so you can see him look at you with pleasure.

"Y-yes Mister- Ah! Vox.."

He chuckles, thrusting into you extremely hard. You can see the bulge of his cock in your stomach, poking against your skin in such a way you almost want to touch it.

"I'd fucking breed you if I could, fill your filthy cunt with all my little babies so then you can't even dream of leaving.. but I can imagine," Vox rambles, taking your cheek into his hand so he can look at you longingly- and almost affectionately. If it weren't for the position you're in you'd almost be enjoying this moment.

"Mister Vox!" You cry, back arching as your orgasm begins to prod at your stomach.

"Hm?" He asks, grunting as he thrusts into you.

"Can I cum? Please! Please please please.." You beg, legs quivering wildly. Vox chuckles, giving you an adoring look as you bite your lower lip.

"Awe look at you! Asking Mister Vox to cum and everything.." Vox begins, biting his lip as you sputter on a moan. "Of course you can, dove. Let go so I can fuck my cum into you.."

You scream his name when you cum, digging your nails so hard into his back you're sure his coat has tears in it.

You'd given up. Well and truly. You wouldn't admit it. But you've finally accepted it. You belong to Mister Vox. Forever and always.

Forever and Always.

Vox gives you one last thrust, emptying his cum into you with a moan from his own lips. Eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, Vox drags out his orgasm by serving you a few more small quick thrusts, making sure every last drop is inside of you.

But when he has, he doesn't pull out.

"Mister Vox.. pull out.." you whimper, wiggling your hips against him.

"Haha! As if. I said i'd fuck my cum into you, didn't I? I haven't done that yet.. okay?" He asks, stroking a hand through your hair.

"Yes Mister Vox."

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #hazbin hotel #lovely anon #senseichaosanons #💙 anon #vox #yandere vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox x reader smut #vox x reader angst #angst

338 notes · View notes

snapeaddict · 5 days

Text

A teacher's trick

For @mmad-lover <3

"I must say, I was quite surprised. The level of precision was that of a third-year; and it was brewed by an average student at best, Miss Ladislaw. Clearly, the discussion we had two weeks ago made a lasting impression. The girl has potential, and it pains me to admit it as I usually have a keen nose for those students with probable skills - I shall keep a close eye on her."

Minerva smirked slightly, although her expression also had something of that motherly fondness one finds in older people's faces as they listen to naive statements from their younger counterparts. That particular smile did not last long, however. She knew Severus would not appreciate what he would qualify as a "patronising attitude" - or what was it that he had said last time? - "ageist condescension". She had not taken it well; then Albus had looked at her with the very same expression, and told her she should know better than to lecture someone who was no longer a student. His amused eyes above the half-moon glasses, the slightly raised eyebrows... yes, Severus might have had a point after all. He was 24 already...

"And what is it that you told Miss Ladislaw two weeks ago?" she asked, her tone as neutral as could be.

The Potions Master slightly shrugged his shoulders.

"Merely that I thought she could achieve a satisfactory grade if she applied herself, and that her needing to work harder than some of her classmates for the same results should not hinder her from trying."

Minerva smiled again, then immediately took a sip from her teacup to hide it, pursing her lips.

"Well, it makes perfect sense." She couldn't help herself.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"You told the girl you believed she could do well. You might as well have given that kind of student a bottle of Felix Felicis - it yields the same results."

"We are talking about a student who successfully brewed a Wiggenweld potion, not a Draught of Living Death."

"You understand my meaning."

Severus sighed, although he bowed his head slightly.

"We cannot go about telling every student such things hoping it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I would not have said it to half of them. If I had, it would not have been more than a white lie. All I can do is make sure they pass - I am no miracle worker."

"Oh, I don't know. It seems to be exactly what those new educative methods are about... you know, from the last board meeting. I thought..." She stared at him, then looked away, lowering her eyes. "I thought I could certainly incorporate some of them into my teaching. Be a bit more mindful. I am rather old-school, I'm afraid."

Severus kept looking at her. Then he simply replied, well after she had averted her gaze:

"We cannot be parents, Professor."

Minerva wondered if his momentary defeated expression had more to do with the immensity of the task at hand - to work at Hogwarts, one had better not gauge the assignment too closely - or with his own mixed feelings towards teaching. She thought it a little paradoxical how unforgiving he was with regard to academics, while he would go out of his way to try and fix things he could never fix, like broken homes and intra-student hierarchy. He was, it had to be said, an unforgiving teacher and a surprisingly supportive Head of House; Albus would certainly provide a satisfactory analysis for such behaviour, although a little too Lacanian to her liking.

She poured him another cup of tea, which he accepted with a slightly embarrassed nod of the head. The friendliness between them was new and ever fragile. In its present state, it was a succession of extended hands quickly taken away when glares of suspicion, or the occasional snide remark, emerged again.

But she was trying, truly. This evening, she had originally planned, was to further their mutually beneficial relationship.

"You should not be so reluctant to make use of that Pygmalion effect, you know, Severus. It did yield great results with you."

He stared at her, looking genuinely surprised.

"With me?" he repeated, the intonation quite unlike him.

"If you recall, you were not very fond of Transfiguration as a boy."

"I shall make no comment on the subject."

His voice was rather cold.

"You need not justify yourself", Minerva replied gently. This time, she held his gaze. "I know you had your reasons, all of them justified."

You did not feel safe, she wanted to add, but she said nothing. As usual, another thought rushed to complete the former - does that justify anything?

She knew he would never claim that it did; although they had never brushed the subject, Albus had made no indication that the boy made any connection at all between the bullying, and his joining You-Know-Who. No, it was her; she made a connection. She saw a pattern, some kind of single path he was made to follow, perhaps a personal failure. It was in her nature to self-scrutinise when and only when she formed a bound - empathy enabled introspection as readily as dislike blinded her to any conclusions she might have previously drawn.

She was startled when he spoke:

"Not all of them, no."

She looked at him confusedly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Not all my reasons for disliking Transfiguration were sound", Severus elaborated, smirking slightly.

She stared at him for a second. It was as if he had guessed...?

"It was too much like muggle magic", he continued, purposely ignoring her expression. "Put a poor rabbit in a black hat; it is transformed into a dove. The coin disappears and reappears. You pull out metres of tissue from the magician's pocket. It seemed to me this was all that this was - magic tricks."

This time, Minerva was fully shaken out of her daze. She looked frankly scandalised.

"Magic tricks!" she repeated, her right hand on her heart. "Tricks!"

Severus seemed to enjoy her half-genuine, half-theatrical display of indignation. He continued, sipping his tea with exaggerated nonchalance:

"I thought it horrendously inelegant. Turning animals into glassware while we brewed potions the colour of the starry sky... While we learnt to bottle things without essence... "

"I beg your pardon, no matter how you put it, it still is soup you are making down there", she cut sharply.

The Slytherin narrowed his eyes. "Now, Professor, you do not want me as your enemy", he said slowly, putting down his cup in the middle of the English porcelain before him.

"Oh, but I do", Minerva replied in a syrupy tone. She put down her own cup with every bit of nonchalance he had just displayed. "Potions are just large soups. That is, boiling water with things you put inside of it."

"Transfiguration is but a distraction for children at a garden birthday party."

"... While their parents bake the birthday cake by throwing ingredients into a big bowl in the right order, which is what you do, if I am not mistaken."

Severus raised his eyebrows, now looking amused and somewhat surprised. He thought of a few bitting comebacks - some that he would not have shied away from using a few years later - but hesitated for a second. This was, after all, still his former professor...

"Well, Severus? I am sure you of all people have a witty reply to offer. You are a man of many talents."

This was enough to stimulate a formidable combination of those replies he was pondering upon - something to do with Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, its first principle, the impossibility of conjuring up food, the birthday cake, screaming children, ethical considerations about vanishing said children, and a muffling draught. He was about to speak; then, Minerva's words reached him fully. "You are a man of many talents."

He closed his mouth, smiled slightly, then nodded, all without a word.

You are a boy of many talents, Severus. Be sure to remember this next class.

"Pygmalion effect", Minerva said, leaning back in her seat. She clasped her fingers, smiling pensively. "You did so well that next Monday. You transformed that match into such a beautiful flower - truly the most remarkable one I had ever seen. I brought it to Pomona, I remember. She said it looked like a Lotus, Bleeding Heart, and Edelweiss had been bred together; it did not exist. It was a pure product of your imagination."

Severus frowned, although more from concentration than annoyance.

"I barely remember".

"You got an O. I cannot tell you how frustrated I was that you only got an E for your O.W.Ls. The only one! Nine 'Outstandings' in all other subjects!"

Severus gave her an ironic look.

"I am sorry to have disappointed".

She rolled her eyes. "Do not put words into my mouth. Look", she added, getting up and circumventing her armchair, "I even took a picture."

She pulled out a drawer from the nearby buffet, then searched through its content for a few seconds, smoothly retrieving a mid-size, cardboard-like paper which she handed to him. Carefully, Severus lowered it down on his knees.

On the top right corner, in green ink, the words "Mr Snape - 1972" were written in the neat, strict handwriting that he had known since his first year, although usually in red. Somewhat clumsily this time - for whatever reason - he turned the paper over. It was, indeed, a picture: that of the flower he vaguely remembered, but now could study plainly, with its long petals and queer tear-shaped extensions right at their extremities. It looked more alien than beautiful, but that was not what his mind was occupied with. Rather, his black eyes scrutinised the background in the picture, clearly that of Minerva's personal desk, which had not changed much since then. His eyes went from the picture to the desk, dimly lit by a few candles at this time of the evening.

"I wish it could have lasted longer", Minerva said softly, still standing by his side. She had followed his gaze. "It is one of the tragedies of transfiguration - nothing lasts forever."

For a few moments, Severus could not speak. Minerva put a hand on the back of his armchair, looking at him expectantly.

With difficulty, he gathered himself, and finally cleared his throat.

"I was merely thinking... thinking that if you were to cast a combination of Epoximise and Orchideous spells, and I to brew an Elixir and Revigorating Draught, all of this put to use at regular intervals - it could potentially keep such a flower intact."

Minerva raised her eyebrows, her interest fully sparked. She turned around, searched through the buffet drawer once more, and placed a match in front of him. Her wand was out.

"Brilliant, Severus. What do you say I perform some tricks, and you bring over some soup, so that I can give you another O?

#love you my friend #some early sweet moments between the two of them #severus snape #pro snape #minerva mcgonagall #snape fandom

58 notes · View notes

milkteasweetheart · 1 month

Text

『just like heaven, chapter 1, part 3』

this part contains riddle’s dream sequence.

housewardens x reader

author’s note: i depict nrc as an actual college, so first years are 18, second years 19, etc.

summary: crowley has the bright idea of a bonding experience, specifically in the form of a dream potion.

characters: (riddle rosehearts), leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia / platonic mentions: dire crowley (ew), grim

genre: romance, fluff, smidge of angst

warnings: female reader, reader is yuu, reader is around ace and deuce’s height, sappy, marriage, mentions of potential children, some suggestive themes

「dream scene: rose colored reverie」

Everything is going Azul’s way. Last week the prefect told him he has nice handwriting, his academic rival is suffering, and everyone is a bit on edge, especially Idia, who just tried to conspire with Jamil to figure a way out.

Azul is not nervous. He doesn’t have dreams, except those he’s already decided on. Goals is a better term for it. He is curious as to what the prince of Briar Valley wants. Perhaps he could make a deal? A bit ambitious, but… such is business. Speaking of Malleus, Azul is sure he hasn’t blinked in a few minutes.

(Y/N) is sitting on a chair, turned away from the scene. No thoughts are currently moving inside her head in order to preserve sanity for upcoming tomfoolery. “Sweet potato, do you remember what your dreams are about?” Vil hopes they involve him. “I can’t really remember. I just blackout from exhaustion when my head hits the pillow.” His face isn’t exactly pleased. “Stress isn’t good for you. I’ll talk with the headmage. Just so you know, you’re always welcome at Pomefiore.” Preferably permanently.

“Let’s go to the main event, my love.” Dream (Y/N) extends her hand to Dream Riddle, who gladly takes it. (Y/N) is pretty sure she heard someone shriek a bit when the cafe warped.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The scent of roses wafts through the lakeside park. Stars dot the sky. (Y/N) is yet again quick to recover, and sees the couple on a checkered picnic blanket.

Riddle wants to run away. This is the conversation that happens at the end of each of his dreams. It’s blatant wish fulfillment, but it staves away most of the yearning during the day.

He finds his words. “...please. Let me preserve my dignity.” His face is comparable to the strawberry tart from the cafe. Leona ignores his plea and lies down on the grass near the couple. “Nah. Besides, I bet octobitch will have an even worse sapfest than whatever your brain could come up with.” Azul makes a face. “Mind your words.” He is ignored.

Jamil and Vil have settled onto the bench facing the meadow where the couple are laying. Dream Riddle has his head on Dream (Y/N)’s arm, and they are holding hands.

Riddle knows the coming conversation beat by beat. “It’s beautiful.” Gray eyes wonder at the sky. “So are you. More so, I’d argue.” Her voice is quiet, but confident. Like she’s speaking facts. “We’ll be together longer than the stars will twinkle in the sky.” A lovestruck smile crowns the statement. “You mean it?” The voice it’s spoken in wavers with the threat of tears. “I know it. We’ll live here, with our friends, and each other. We won’t have to do anything we don’t want to. I’ll take you out every night and day, if you want it. I’ll do anything so you’ll be happy.” The real Riddle is currently staring at the prefect. She isn’t reacting, but her gaze is soft. Is it pity she’s feeling?

He sighs. He’ll be clowned on for the rest of his life by Azul, and he pleads to the Seven that Ace and Floyd will never have any word of this. He jumps at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

“...Hey. Don’t feel bad. Dreams come from the subconscious or something.” (Y/N) considered her next words. “We can go hang out somewhere cool if you want. Just ask.” She figured his mind has just blended some old romance movie and his want for rebellion without punishment together. “Thank you, prefect.” Riddle smiles with a relieved look.

That’s the queue for Malleus to change the dream into Leona’s.

#disney twst #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #malleus draconia x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #leona kingscholar x reader

106 notes · View notes

gortashs-skidmark · 6 months

Text

There are many brilliant ideas about Gortash and Durge. I would like to point some out below. Not all are mine.

HEADCANONS -

!! Some bulletpoints were taken from sources, from Gortash Fanficition. I have highlight the ones I know I got from fanfiction, I’ve linked all original source posts !! READ PLS !!

!! I do not want to be a plagiarist! if it's your fanfic, pls let me know if it makes you uncomfortable and I will remove it !!

*Orange means it's canon

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

The way Durge and Gortash know their doom is inevitable, but it was nice while it lasted trope.

Durge’s Prayers to Bhaal for forgiveness: Every time durgetash do the nasty, Durge whispers little prayer of forgiveness to their god.

<3 found reference!

Durge is the “good child” out of Bhaal’s children. Which means they have an image to keep up, and keep up with Bhaal’s plans. They’re under constant stress and fear from their father. Treating him like a father and God gets tough.

Gale’s line “with you, I forget my goddess” I love the idea of applying that to Durgetash: “You scare me. You make me feel like an individual, not like the spawn I am destined to be. I should not see you as an equal or take your companionship. But when I’m with you, I forget my god.” Something along those lines.

<3 found reference!

Durge is a fierce maniac but in no way competitive. I think there’s a laziness Durge and Gortash share. Unkempt. Uninterested in competition. Gortash just makes them an employee instead of killing them.

I love the idea Ketheric is just done with their bs. They’re two reasonable individuals but little giggly school girls in love at a catholic boarding house.

This headcanon is shared across Durge lovers! I will add one example but it is not unknown across the community!

<3 example!

Durge has personality. Scared to lose the rest of themself but scared to indulge when they’re with Enver. On one hand- handsome tyrant who wants to rules the world with them and peepaw. The other- fulfilling the worlds suffering for their father. Do they want either outcome. Durge’s neutral is to feel bittersweet or somber. (Or carnal damning lust)

When Durge has all those holes poked in their brain, and they’re with their travelling companions. They get nauseous after battle, they gotta sit down for a few. Sickened with themselves, or, feeling too much lust at once. Gale doesn’t ask why they need a rest, his knees need a break.

Durge has unusually soft spots on their skin. Made from Bhaal’s balls. Or from Bhaal’s inner arms, like the inner bicep or forearm. Soft and plush, possibly looser, where the skin is tougher. “He made me in his own image” fucked up kinda stuff.

Durge doesn’t harm Gortash. “When I like something I keep it good condition, I cherish it, I hone it, I keep it polished”

Durge is a clean person. Sloppy perhaps but their room is made up of minimalist decorations. A bookshelf and a small desk. They sleep on the softest fluffiest bed, anything to try and sleep as an insomniac. Bottles of empty angelic sleeping potions around the bed and on the side tables. They make their room up themselves. Some part of them wished they could share as much personality as their room does, so openly.

Durge has a hobby. Only hinted to those who are close. Cooking, cleaning, knitting, whatever you like. But it’s not something they share so much. They might comment on the poor stitching quality at Carmen’s Garms. Or how the fishermen on the docks will lie about the cod being sea bass, only a real cook would know.

Durge did/does temple services. I think they said that in the game. Lead everything. But also the Bhaalists are LAZY AS FUCK. And the Bhaalspawn spends hours cleaning the alter and other parts of the temple. The blood and guts and possible diseases?? Bhaalists def die off from blood diseases.

Being a Bhaalist means that it’s about the number of kills and the suffering of their victims, something Sarevok prefaced in game. Durge takes a different stance, placebo-ing themselves so they only kill a small number to last for awhile without blacking out and losing control. Like “I killed them in a manner I haven’t before- I’ll take satisfaction in their unique death more than usual”- spiraling and trying to make up for their guilt. OCD behavior.

Sarevok and Durge are toxic besties. Sarevok hates Durge but Durge comes back bc they’re lonely and need friends to relate to. Until Gortash.

Durge takes a liking to the Intellect Devourers before their fall- that special one named “Us”. Their brief interaction on the Nautiloid Ship when they lose their memories, Us was something they felt connected to. Adored it like a puppy. They feel a sense of incredible loss when they wake up on the beach without Us. But why? It’s a nasty brain with scaly claws, they shouldn’t feel sad.

#bg3 durge #the dark urge #enver gortash #dark urge x gortash #durgetash #bg3 #headcanons

119 notes · View notes

andreafmn · 1 year

Text

Kinktober ⛓ Day 2

Word Count: 3.2K Paring: Severus Snape x Professor!Fem!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Roleplay WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), vaginal fingering. spanking, student-teacher roleplay

Summary: (Y/N) reminisces about her times as a student in Hogwarts and wants nothing more than to fulfill one of the fantasies she'd had while within those walls.

A/N: again, sorry not sorry about my Kinktober works 🤭🤭

<- Previous | Next ->

It was weird to walk amongst the walls of Hogwarts as a teacher rather than a student when, only a few years back, that’s precisely what (Y/N) had been. She had been just like the overeager students she now taught, trying her best to get through the day without imploding from the throes of being a teenager.

But gone were the days that she had to worry about handing in her History of Magic papers on time or failing Divination. Now, the only thing she had to concern herself with was her students’ grades and staying in the good graces of her fellow colleagues who had once taught her—especially the grumpy Potions professor.

“Oh, good evening, Professor,” a startled Hufflepuff student called out. “I was just…”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Ainsworth. Just hurry back to your dorm,” (Y/N) smiled at the scared girl. “I won’t fault you for something I used to do.”

“Wow, really? You won’t take off points?”

“Of course not,” she smiled. “But run along now, dear. I can’t promise anyone else will be as lenient.”

After a playful wink from the older woman, the girl ran off, careful not to be caught by anyone else in the dungeons. It brought a chuckle out of (Y/N), thinking of all the times she had been seen in that very situation, and had cost her house many points. If she’d had a teacher like her, maybe she could have spared herself many nights in detention. However, she barely regretted most.

She walked through the dungeon halls with a purpose, trailing to the place most students dreaded to be in. If she’d had any sense, she would have dreaded it too. Instead, it was the place she wished she got to spend more time in.

“Knock, knock,” (Y/N) called out as she opened the creaky door to the classroom.

“You don’t have to knock if you’re already inside,” the man inside grumbled as he looked up from the papers he was grading. “And you definitely do not have to say the words: knock, knock.”

“Well, Severus, since you can’t punish me by taking house points anymore, I don’t feel any threat from your words,” she teased as she walked toward the front of the classroom, her steps echoing in the emptiness. “I’m not a student anymore, so you don’t terrify me.”

“It’s good to hear that I don’t terrify my girlfriend,” Severus chuckled, finally standing from his chair and rounding his desk to meet her. “And you know there are other ways I could punish you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling,” (Y/N) laughed. “It might remind me of all the daydreaming I did in your class back then.”

“Oh, how could I ever forget those impure thoughts of yours, love? They got quite distracting at the end of term. It seemed you couldn’t keep your head on straight.”

A breath got hitched in (Y/N)’s throat, making her swallow a lump. “You knew about that?” she asked in surprise. “And you never said anything?”

“It seems you forget about my legilimency skill, love,” he grinned, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “And it’s not like you did anything to keep those thoughts to yourself. It was practically the only thing running through your head when you should have been paying attention in class.”

“You read my mind while I was in class? Out of all the students there, you read my mind?” (Y/N) teased, a mischievous grin on her face. She could only chuckle as her words brought a red hue to Severus’ cheeks, flushing at the admission. “Well, professor, could it be that you were just as interested in me as I was in you? Is that why you agreed to go out with me last year after I bumped into you at the Three Broomsticks?”

“I need not lie, my darling. But you were still a child back then. I should not have been thinking that way.”

“I was already eighteen years old, darling. You could have done something about it.”

“I was still your professor, (Y/N).”

“And thank Merlin, you’re not anymore,” she grinned. “It could get us into a lot of trouble if I had done something like this.”

The woman stood on her tiptoes, her hands pressed against Severus’ clothed chest for support, to kiss the man firmly on his lips. He placed his hands on either side of her face in response, deepening the kiss to savor her mouth. “You know,” (Y/N) continued, her fingers walking across his chest. “I still have my uniform tucked safely away in my dormitory.”

“What are you suggesting, love?”

“Well, it’s a rather quiet night,” she grinned. “And I know a certain wizard that could make sure that door remains shut and no one can listen in.”

“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you, (Y/N)?” Severus said with an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Trying to get me in trouble?”

“There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults in a relationship to be together.”

“What if someone did catch us?”

“Then, you’re not as good a wizard as you claim to be, darling.”

“Oh, you’ll certainly be punished for that, love,” he laughed darkly. “Now, why don’t you go ahead and get changed while I enchant this place?”

With a devilish grin, (Y/N) sauntered over to his office, where she accioed the perfectly folded uniform she had left sitting on her bed. It felt rather strange to be dressing in those clothes once more. The skirt fit a bit too snug, the shirt felt a bit too small, and the tie felt just too constricting. But all of that discomfort died when she remembered why she was wearing the pieces in the first place. The thought was enough to send a shiver down her spine and cause warm wetness to pool between her legs in anticipation. Everything she had dreamed of in her last year at Hogwarts was about to come true.

She walked out of Severus’ office with her house cloak draped across her back, quick to find the seat she had done all her daydreaming in –first row, far left corner, directly in front of his desk. He was already sitting back at his desk, pretending he was still grading papers –or maybe he still was– and acting as though (Y/N) had just walked into his classroom.

“You’re late for your detention, Ms. (Y/L/N). Ten points from (Y/H).”

“But, professor!” she whined, her mind reverting to the times that very situation had occurred. “It’s not my fault that I was late.”

“I do not care for excuses, (Y/L/N). You were supposed to be here right after dinnertime. It is well past curfew hour. I think I’m being rather reasonable by only taking ten points.”

“That’s not fair!”

“I could take more if you think that would be fair. I’m sure your fellow housemates will be thrilled to hear that you cost them points for complaining.”

“You can’t do that, professor. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Is that why you’re in detention with me, then? Because you haven’t done anything wrong?”

“That’s right,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You gave me a detention for absolutely no reason.”

The chuckle that left Severus’ throat sent chills across her veins, making her cross her legs tightly in a futile attempt at friction. “I don’t think messing up your potion because you were in your head the entire class is no reason,” Snape grumbled. “You cost your partner their grade and made a mess of my classroom.”

(Y/N) wanted to laugh as he recounted something that had occurred many years before. The very day that had gifted her with her first detention with Severus Snape. Instead, she said, “I wasn’t in my head. I simply read the instructions wrong.”

“A brilliant witch like yourself would never be careless enough,” he countered. “And I have ways to prove that you were daydreaming, Ms. (Y/L/N). So, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. Whichever you decide, the punishment has already been chosen.”

“Then, it’s not much of a choice, is it?”

“I’m giving you a chance to admit your wrongdoings rather than taking the truth from you,” he offered. “And, might I suggest the path of least resistance?”

The woman pretended to think for a moment. It was what she would have done at that moment. She would have weighed her options and convinced herself that telling the truth would at least lessen her punishment. “Alright then,” she said. “I admit that I was daydreaming in your class, which led to my potion exploding.”

“And?”

“And what? That’s all that happened.”

“But you haven’t said what it was that you were thinking of, (Y/L/N),” he said as he stood from his desk. “And, in my opinion, that’s what caused this whole fiasco.”

“I-I can’t say that, sir,” she stammered as a deep-red hue painted her face. “It’s not pertinent to the situation. I admitted to my fault. Just give me my punishment.”

“That is part of your punishment, (Y/N),” Severus countered, his voice dropping. “So, what was it?”

“I won’t say it, sir.”

“It seems you’re under the impression that this is a request,” he chuckled darkly. “Come here, (Y/N).”

“W-what?”

“I said: Come. Here,” the older man answered sternly. “And I don’t like repeating myself.”

(Y/N) scrambled to her feet and hurried up the three steps to stand before him on the other side of his desk. He towered over her, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated. Severus looked her over, inspecting the uniform he had seen her wear many times before, only this time he was allowed to take it off her. Much more, she wanted him to take it off her.

Severus had never deluded himself. Even if it always seemed like he held all the power because of his age and his character, it was (Y/N) who had complete control over him. It had been a startling surprise when he had decided to break into her thoughts and find out what had made one of his star pupils so distracted, and he saw some compromising situations staring him, but it had been a bigger one when years later, she agreed to go out with him when they ran into each other. Truthfully, he couldn’t believe that a woman like herself would ever want to be with someone like himself –a man people ran from, not toward.

“Tell me, (Y/L/N),” he growled. “What were you thinking of? And don’t lie to me.”

“I, uh, was thinking about some rather indecent activities,” (Y/N) stammered, her chest heaving in nervousness as Severus took her tie in his hands. “Indecent activities with some I shouldn’t have been thinking of.”

“And who was that, dear (Y/L/N)? Who was the protagonist of these salacious thoughts?” i

“I can’t say that. Anything but that.”

Severus pulled her closer by the tie, wrapping his hand around the piece of fabric. “I thought I told you I didn’t like to repeat myself, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he said. “Now. Who was it?”

“It was you, professor,” she answered sheepishly. “I was thinking of you.”

“How hard was that? Telling the truth shouldn’t be such a drawn-out ordeal,” he chuckled. “As for your punishment, (Y/N), I think you’ll find it rather… fulfilling.”

“Isn’t you knowing what I was thinking of you punishment enough?” (Y/N) whined. “Why can’t I just go back to my room?”

“Because I don’t think it’s enough, dear (Y/N). You made a mess of my classroom this morning, and you disrespected my time by showing up late to your detention. Those things cannot go unpunished.”

“But, sir…”

“No buts, (Y/N),” Severus interrupted. “You will receive your punishment, you will do as you’re told, and you will not complain. Am I understood?”

“But…”

“I said, am I understood?!”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, professor.”

“Alright then,” he grinned. “Bend down across the desk.”

“W-wha…”

“What did I say?”

“Sorry, professor,” she quickly apologized. “I just find that to be a rather peculiar request, sir. I don’t know how that could be a punishment.”

“Do not question me, you insolent witch.”

“Sorry, professor,” she mumbled as she did as told. The wood felt cold through her clothes, and it helped to calm the warmth that rushed through her veins.

“Good,” he acclaimed. “Now pull up your skirt, (Y/N).”

“Sir?”

“I said no questions, (Y/L/N). Didn’t I?”

“Yes, professor,” she said. Her hands reached to the hem of her skirt, pulling it up and revealing the black lace underwear she would always wear in her student days. “I just don’t understand how this would help.”

“I do not need to explain my methods, Ms. (Y/L/N). You’re the student here.”

From behind her, (Y/N) could hear movement, but she did not know what was happening. Until she heard the familiar sound of a belt buckle. She knew exactly what was coming, and she could not wait. Her knees pressed together as she searched for any kind of touch. Not that it was enough.

“You see, dear (Y/N), I just think you need a punishment that you will remember. Something that you’ll still feel the next day.”

“Professor?”

“I want you to count out loud after every single one.”

“Every wha…?”

Her words died in her throat as she felt the sting of leather bite the skin of her ass, the sound of the spank reverberating against the stone walls. “I said you had to count,” Severus reminded her, running his hand over where he just hit. “And this is the last time I repeat myself, (Y/N).”

“Yes, professor,” she croaked. “That was one.”

“Good girl,” he cooed.

Severus was relentless once he got started. He switched between his belt and his hand, squeezing her skin after every hit and admiring the way her skin turned red. But what made his erection press on the seam of his pants was the sound of (Y/N)’s strangled voice counting every touch.

He could see how it was affecting her, and he reveled in it. Her knees started buckling after every hit and her panties darkened the longer they went on. At that point, she would cum just from the spanking.

“Thirty-five,” (Y/N) cried at the sting, swallowing down the moans that threatened to escape. She felt like her skin was on fire, tingling after every single spank. “How much longer, professor?”

“Well, I suppose that thirty-five is enough for you to have learned your lesson,” he tutted. Behind her, the woman felt him bend down, his face close enough to her behind that she could feel his breathing against her sore skin. “And, look at that you’re unbelievably drenched, Ms. (Y/L/N). Could it be that you have enjoyed your punishment?”

“No… I, uh…”

“If you’ve enjoyed it this much,” he said, swiping his fingers across her covered slit, making her body shudder. “Then I don’t think you’ve truly learned your lesson. This was meant to discipline you, not turn you on.”

“I can’t help it, professor.”

“I should hope you have more control over your body than this, (Y/N),” he scoffed. “But it seems you still require more correction.”

Before she could answer, she felt Severus stand and press his hand on her aching clit. The lace fabric felt rough against her, but the friction was just what she had been yearning for. He circled the bud, pressing against her at a punishingly slow pace. “You’re not to cum until I give you permission, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he whispered against her ear as he draped over her. “Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, professor,” she moaned. “I understand.”

(Y/N)’s hands grasped at the edge of the wooden desk, digging her nails into the table as she tried to prolong the finish she wanted to reach. Severus was unrelenting, changing his speed, bringing her as close to the edge as possible before altering the pace once more. It was a punishment like no other.

Suddenly, she felt her underwear being moved aside as he moved his hand through the front of her body, allowing two of his fingers to breach her as his thumb continued the attack on her clit.

“I can’t hold on for much longer, professor,” (Y/N) cried. Her breathing was staggered, and her eyes had fallen shut. “Please.”

“Please, what, (Y/L/N)? What is it that you want? Beg for it.”

“Merlin, please! Just let me cum, professor. I need to cum!” she exclaimed as her grip on the desk tightened. “I promise I’ve learned my lesson, professor. I won’t get distracted in class again!”

“Maybe you should, dear (Y/N). Especially if it leads to having you in such a compromising position,” he chuckled. “But I guess you deserve to cum. So, go ahead, dear. Let go.”

With a mewling cry, (Y/N) came around Severus’ pumping fingers, meeting their pace with her hips as she rode out her orgasm on his hand. His free hand snaked around her neck, straightening her back against him and twisting her head to kiss her roughly, his fingers still buried inside her.

“Good girl,” he mumbled against her lips before pulling her lip with his teeth. “You did so well, my love. Truly made me forget that this was all make-believe.”

“Well, it wasn’t all pretend, darling,” (Y/N) chuckled. “You already know that this very scenario ran through my head during your classes and your detentions, hoping that you weren’t a good man and would act on my wishes. But it seems I had to wait a few years to get you into bed.”

“You were barely of age, darling,” he chuckled softly, brushing a piece of damp hair behind her ear. “And I was still your professor. If anyone had found out, my career would have been over, and you would have most likely been expelled.”

“Oh, but what fun it would have been, darling,” (Y/N) grinned as she pushed him onto his chair, straddling his lap. Her smile grew as she felt his erection through his pants, smirking as she knew she would leave a wet spot on the fabric. “Could you imagine?” she continued, moving her hips softly against his length. “If another professor waltzed into your classroom and caught us this way, or even a student. It would have been an absolutely thrilling disaster. But I wouldn’t have stopped. Merlin knows I wouldn’t have. I would have made sure we both came.”

“What are you doing, love?” Severus said with a strangled voice. “The charms have already fallen. I never meant for them to stay up too long.”

“I told you, darling. I would have made sure we both came,” she said against his ear, nibbling on the soft skin. “And that’s exactly what I will do now.”

Next ->

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writingIf you’d like to be tagged in every Kinktober work, any fandom or story: click hereMake sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Taglist:@winter-soldier-101@sunflowerleii@dyslexiccatterpillar @andreaiaafaria @bluetreecloud20 @sapnapsbandana @mushroomelephant @user0ur0mom @lilozg-123@esposadomd @nocturnalherb16 @then-worship-at-my-altar@yuki254@nyenye@captainrogers-19

@beckiej0073-blog @cecehensonn @krazyk99@klf1999@magimtz23@adaydreamaway08@hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel@thatgirljayy@sugasthreedollarkookie @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @honeywxter @haroldpotterson@kaita11 @gangstalicious06 @multifandomreader73 @euphoria1992 @thecollectorofwords @gabi-princesada1d @zealouscookierebeltrash@laylasbunbunny@aonungsfreak@treatiseofselena @attlas567 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187@bibella8swan@itsmytimetoodream@ivory-raptor@unstablekay @fresita1218 @heccatee@evattude@cerejinha@caosfanblr@alyeskathewave@heartfilia01

@shadowwolfqueen @jinxxangel13 @rinalouu @haikyuuswhoree

167 notes · View notes