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megwritesriddles · 4 months ago

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In the Back of Your Mind ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Young! Severus Snape x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 4 - Stalking. Severus is in love with you from afar. Severus is also very good at legilimency. You show a tiny bit of interest by helping him out in class and he loses a little more of his self-control.

Tags: Stalking, P in V, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (f receiving, a LOT of it), Very dubious consent, Mind manipulation / control, Brainwashing, Improper use of legilimency, Toxic relationships, Yandere Snape, Creepy perverted behaviour, Fantasising, Implied loss of virginity, Self-blaming.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 3.7k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Severus in this fic is written to be a walking red flag, don't seek this kind of relationship irl!! I started to get a headache toward the end of writing this, sorry if it's noticeable in the writing!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Splat, Severus’ books thud to the ground. A cacophony of laughs erupts behind him, led by James Potter, a satisfied smirk on his face from having caused this mild inconvenience. Severus huffs and rolls his eyes, luckily hidden by his mop of long black hair. He bends down to pick up the books, not at all surprised when James nudges one further away with the toe of his shoe. He shuffles forward and picks it up too, straightening himself back up, head hung low. He shuffles across the hall to lean against a wall further from the marauders, who hoot and laugh at him. Even putting himself in their shoes he can’t understand what’s so funny about watching someone pick up books. None of it matters anyway, because you’ll be here soon. Perfect you. You always arrive at this class at 12:56, with your friend by your side. You’d usually be chatting, finishing off a pastry from lunch, whatever had taken your fancy that day, Severus guessed it would be the Pumpkin pasties today. He watches the clock above the door into the potion's dungeon, feeling a familiar tingle of excitement. Just as he knew you would, almost exactly as the clock struck 12:56, your voice drifted around the corner down the corridor. He watches behind his hair as you come into view, chatting happily with your friend, carefully holding a hand in front of your mouth as you chew. He imagines you spotting him, smiling and making your way over, giggling and offering him a bite of your pastry. He’d go to bite it and you’d withdraw it playfully, just to tease him, you’d laugh that bright laugh you have and he’d give you a chastising look before stealing a kiss from you, making you smile wider. You’d wrap your arms around his neck, pushing closer so that–

He’s yanked from his thoughts by Slughorn opening the doors to the lab, the heavy wood scraping unpleasantly against the stone floor. Everyone starts to head inside, he keeps his head down as he enters, hanging back at his usual spot at the back of the room, the spot with a perfect view of you. He places his books down, watching as you quickly scoff the last of your pastry, a pumpkin pasty as he’d guessed before the lesson started. Throughout the lesson he’s watching you, barely concentrating on the topic at hand, he doesn't need to, he already read up on it in his own time so that he can watch you. He’s lucky, in a way, that he only has you for potions, no matter how much he wishes you always there, always by him, always in view, else he may never learn anything at all. You lean forward on the desk, your chin in your palms, legs swinging under the desk. He can vaguely make out the outline of your bra through the back of your uniform shirt, it’s black, clasped on the final row. He almost jots this down on his parchment before he catches himself. He imagines that if he told you this, you’d laugh and call him something childish and endearing, like a ‘silly sausage’, flicking his nose gently. He’s lost in this fantasy, this world where he can tell you that he’s watching you and you find it sweet, going through the motions of setting up his workstation for brewing. He doesn’t even realise that Slughorn is calling out to him until your head turns towards him, looking curious. He notices with a start that the entire class is looking at him, the marauders laughing tauntingly among themselves.

“Er… what?” he croaks out, his voice a little rough from barely speaking all day. He hears a few more chuckles, but not from you. Kind, perfect you. You just glance between him and Slughorn without a hint of judgement in your eyes.

“Your hair is getting rather too long, boy, you’ll have to tie it up for this potion, it’s very volatile,” Slughorn chortles from the front of the room. “Do any of the ladies have a spare?” He addresses the room. The marauders and a couple of the other boys explode with laughter, several of the girls immediately shake their heads, or do nothing, except beautiful, perfect you. You’re picking up your bag and digging through it without a second's hesitation and he could kiss you right now, not that there was any time he felt like he couldn’t. Your friend, obviously shamed into action by you, flicks half-heartedly through her bag too. The rest of the class returns to setting up.

“A-ha!” you exclaim, pulling out a plain black hairband from your bag. Black like your bra, his brain supplies, but he shakes that off because you’re walking over to him. He’s immediately sweating, luckily you’re unlikely to notice through his robes, although you may notice the growing sheen on his forehead. You stand in front of him, smiling like an angel. He’s not this close to you often, somehow you’re even more ethereal up close. He takes a shaky breath as you extend the hairband to him. "Don't listen to them, Black is only about an inch away from needing one himself,"

“Th-Thank you…” He mumbles, brushing your fingertips with his own on purpose. It feels like a thousand fireworks exploding under his skin and he smiles shakily. You smile and shrug.

“Just get it back to me when you can, or keep it honestly, I have hundreds and you’ll probably need it again,” you explain happily. You always seem to have nothing bringing you down and he admires it, wishing he could be so positive, perhaps it’s easy when you’re as flawless as you are. You skip off back to your workstation to your friend. He has something in his hand that is yours, something he’s allowed to keep, something he didn’t have to snatch when you left the room. There’s a couple of your hairs stuck around it and he shivers in excitement. This is something you have used, and he has it through legitimate means. He’s floating on air. While everyone else is beginning to brew, he hides behind his cauldron carefully laying down your hairs in his notebook, making sure not to break them, securing them so they don’t fall out.

Eventually, once he’s sure he can’t extract any more of yours from the hairband, he finally ties his hair back into a low ponytail, getting to work. He’s confident he can catch up on the brewing time he missed, even as he keeps being distracted by the sight of you across the room, your hair pulled up out of your face in the same type of hairband you gave him. You’re gorgeous, somehow more than usual, which shouldn’t be possible or, frankly, legal. He’s often wondered if you’re part Veela somewhere far back, because of how absolutely perfect you are. Through extensive research of your family tree, he was able to prove himself wrong, but he still wonders. His potion expertise allows him to catch up on the potion, still being awarded the best potion in class by the end of it. He almost feels bad for everyone who actually put some effort into brewing just to lose to him again, but that feeling melts away when he spots you grinning at him as Slughorn announces his win. The two of you have never been friends, but you have always been silently friendly toward him, refusing to be swayed by the rumours about him. It’s perhaps what he loves the absolute most about you. He’s packing up when you approach him again, smiling softly.

“I actually like your hair up like this,” you whisper, reaching over to gently flick the end of his short ponytail. Severus doesn’t know if you’re teasing him or not. He feels like he’s been struck by lightning, both by your words and your playful touch. A hundred images of fantasies he’s had about you over the years flash through his mind. You’ve touched him! Willingly! In that playful way, he’d always imagined you would. It takes a lot of effort to remind himself that he can’t just kiss you right now. His mouth falls open and he lets out an undignified throaty noise. He quickly covers it up with a cough, blinking rapidly.

“I um… you… do?” he chokes out. You study his face for a moment, he’s sure you’re about to change your mind. You could never be so cruel though, he knows this, you’re too wonderful.

“Yeah… it’s nice to see your eyes sometimes,” you tease. Severus forces himself to laugh back casually, trying to force down the love hearts that are practically forming in his eyes. He also has to stop himself from grabbing you, never letting you move away again. He regrets holding himself back when your friend comes up behind you and ushers you away to your next class. You smile at him over your shoulder as you begin to leave. He quickly decides to use the compliments you’ve just given him against you. He wonders how much you really meant to them, but he has to try anyway. He invades your mind, silently smug about your lack of defences even after all this time. He feeds you a vision based on what you’ve just said. His head between your perfect supple thighs, looking up at you with wide needy eyes, his hair pulled back just like this, devouring your sweet cunt. He knows he’s been successful as he watches you suddenly flush and turn away, your cheeks bright red.

He doesn’t really know how you feel about these visions. He’s been invading your mind and planting them since the end of the fifth year. He would love to stick around in your brain, find out how you react to them, do some digging, and find out how you really feel about him, but he can’t risk it. The longer you’re in somebody's mind, the more they can feel the foreign presence. You’re still yet to put up any wards, even rudimentary ones, so he assumes you don’t realise you’re being invaded. You also haven’t started to avoid him more than normal, if you realised these visions were coming from someone else, there would only be one logical conclusion as to who they came from, but you haven’t withdrawn or confronted him in any way, so he figures he’s safe for now. The nature of the visions he gives you is probably enough to distract you from the momentary uncomfortable tingle of someone else being in your brain. He’s been experimenting for a long while to see what thoughts you react to the best. He often sits in the dining hall, somewhere where he has the perfect view of you, and plants various thoughts. You don’t seem to school your emotions very well, so he gets a vague idea of how you react to each scenario. He’s tried visions of him bending you over, roughly taking everything he wants from you, he’s tried visions of him begging on his knees to please you and everything in between. You blush beautifully at each one, whether from embarrassment or arousal, he isn’t sure. He can’t wait to feel your cheek heat up under his hand, because he will get to feel it, some day. You don’t seem to like the more extreme scenarios, complete domination or complete submission, but you don’t seem to mind either way if the power dynamic is a little milder. He doesn’t mind, he would be anything for you, do anything. What you seem to like best is when he feeds you a vision of him eating you out. He supposes it makes sense, it’s completely focused on your pleasure, so it’s practically all he’s been giving you lately. Sometimes he holds you down and calls you a good girl, sometimes you’re riding his face and calling him a good boy, you seem to like it either way. It makes him unbelievably smug.

After dinner, he’s trailing you and your friends to your common room, just to make sure that you’re safe, nothing more. He’s a little careless, feeding you the same vision over and over, enjoying watching you blush and stutter from afar as you try to chat with your friends. You probably think you’ve been hit with a lust potion or something, as he isn’t letting you think of anything else. It seems you hadn’t lied when you’d told him you liked his hair in the ponytail, as every time he gave you the same vision from earlier, he noticed your thighs tense. This isn’t a reaction he gets from you often at all, usually, it’s so subtle that he can be convinced it was unrelated, but this vision, in particular, seems to have you doing this every time. He’d dropped his fork at dinner just to duck under the table to watch your thighs clench, the sight nearly making his mouth water. He wished he could get under your table and spread your legs, make that vision a reality, but sadly he could not. He would do it in a heartbeat if you asked, fuck the consequences, fuck who could see. Maybe one day, if he kept torturing you with this vision, you would come begging. He feels his cock twitching eagerly in his trousers at the thought. You disappear into your common with your friends, him watching from around the corner. He sighs in disappointment, deciding to leave you be for the night since he can’t delight in your lovely little reactions any more. He hangs around at the corner for a moment, debating whether to head outside onto the grounds to watch you through your dorm window like he often did. The mini telescope he had to buy for Astronomy had turned out to be a fantastic use of money, even if he did often see your roommates instead. He had seen them all in various states of undress by now, but he couldn’t care about any of them in the least, he only had eyes for you.

Over the next few days, he eases off a little, realising how reckless he’d been. He couldn’t risk you knowing what he’s been doing, he can’t imagine that would end very well, even if you had seemed to grow to like the visions he gave you. He didn’t stop altogether, because that would have arguably been just as suspicious. He keeps it tame, one or two a day, maybe a little more innocent than normal. He can’t help but continue to use the information about you liking his hair back, making sure every fantasy he feeds you has him that way. He keeps your hairband, pulling his hair back every day now, because it makes you look at him just a second longer, and he’s obsessed with it. Lucius comments on it, saying it looks odd, but he couldn’t care less. It makes secretly watching you harder too, as he can’t hide behind his hair so much, but he makes do, all for those extra glances. He continues his routines, waiting for you to emerge in the mornings from your common room by hiding around the corner, watching you at every mealtime, trailing you back to the common room in the evening and then watching you through your window whenever he feels the need.

One night, once he’s happy you’re safely back in your common room, he turns to leave but trips slightly over his feet. He glances down, realising with an exasperated huff that the laces on his oxfords have come undone. He crouches down to tie them, setting his other knee on the ground. He fumbles with them unnecessarily, frustrated with himself. He vaguely registers footsteps approaching him, but not enough to react before he hears a voice.

“Oh… Severus, what are you doing here?” your soft angelic voice echoes slightly in the empty corridor. You seem confused, and, arguably, you have reason to be. The only thing down this corridor is your common room, and he has no excuse to be here. He swallows, staring straight down at the ground, his mind working a mile a minute.

“Here to return the hairband,” he grunts, thinking fast. It’s the only excuse he has, even if you had told him to keep it. He looks up at you from his crouched position, you’re a lot closer to him than he thought. He realises how similar this position is to some of the ones he’s forced into your brain. He’s pleased to notice, from the flush on your face, that you make this connection too, without it being planted. He shifts slightly, lowering both his knees to the ground and facing you properly. He looks up at you, his eyes burning with barely contained arousal. You’re flushed and shy as you look down at him and he dares to invade your mind to see what you’re thinking. He can’t fight the twitch of his lips as he creeps into your mind, only to find you’re imagining him, just as he is now, pushing up your skirt and burying his face between your legs. He shivers, you’re thinking of this all on your own. There’s a nag at the back of his mind, telling him you don’t quite seem to want to be thinking this, but he ignores it, reaching up for your thighs. You yelp in surprise as his cold, long fingers press into the warm skin of your thighs and he pulls you forward.

“Wha- what are you doing?” you squeak, stumbling helplessly toward him. He doesn’t answer, he feels possessed, and he’s already salivating. He brushes his nose against the skin of your thigh, just under the hem of your skirt, making you gasp. You smell divine, a vague hint of your perfume, presumably stuck to the fabric of your skirt, a hint of something that he realises, with a growl, must be your arousal. You try to step away, but he grips you harder, keeping you in place. He knows you want him, even if you don’t seem to know it yourself. You whimper as he licks a stripe up your thigh, the taste is faintly salty and he groans in pleasure. He hears the old castle creak slightly, reminding him that the two of you are out in the open. He withdraws slightly. You look utterly dazed above him like you don’t understand what’s going on. You realise that he’s walking you to a cleaning cupboard nearby, and your legs just blindly follow him. You want to protest, but can’t seem to find it in you. You had been fantasising about this for years now, even if the reason for these fantasies never seemed to make sense. He brings you in, shutting the door behind you. He’s kneeling again in an instant, he almost looks crazed as he bunches up your skirt. He doesn’t even give you time to acclimate before his tongue is on you through the material of your underwear. You gasp out loudly as he tastes the small wet spot of fabric, when did you even get wet? He takes a long deep sniff, his nose nudging at your clit through the fabric. He licks at you desperately until the material is soaked through, both with his saliva and your arousal. You were shocked by just how intensely your body was reacting to all this. You let him slide down your underwear, figuring there’s no point stopping him now. You lean back against the wall as he buries his head between your legs, shaking his head slightly to get even closer, the movement making you moan softly. He’s undeniably eager, lapping and slurping at you, but it’s fairly clear he’s never done this before. This is all he’s ever wanted, and he’s determined to make the most of it, the scent and taste of you making him feel insane. He rubs you all over his face, wriggling his tongue against you, gripping the flesh of your buttocks to keep you in place. He’s mumbling against you, about how long he’s been picturing this, but you can’t quite hear him, which is probably for the best. He makes up for his lack of experience with his enthusiasm, the way he’s looking up at you like he’s desperate to please. You find yourself falling apart all over his face shockingly fast, biting your lip to stifle your whines.

“Thank you, thank you,” he mumbles over and over as he laps you all up. He pulls away and you go a little limp, sliding slightly down the wall as he stands. You barely register what’s happening as he turns you around pressing you up against the wall, your eyes widen as he pushes inside you, but by now you’re well past the point of no return, so you simply brace yourself against the wall. He humps you like a dog in heat, sloppy and fast, you’re glad he made you orgasm earlier because you don’t get the feeling you will be cumming from this. Not that it feels bad, in fact, it feels quite good, making you moan as he bullies against you. He grips your waist tight with his slender fingers. “This is perfect, everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” he whimpers in your ear. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’m never letting you go, you’re mine now,” you know what he’s saying is worrying, but your fucked out mind can’t quite realise the true danger of what he’s saying and what your lack of protesting is solidifying in his mind. “All mine,” he growls, his hips stuttering violently. He buries himself as deep as he can. “Fo-forever,” he groans shakily as he spills deep inside of you. He holds you there for a long time, your body limp in his arms as he pants against the back of your neck. You feel lightheaded, you can’t believe everything that’s just happened to you. He kisses your cheek, over and over, as if it's some sort of compulsion. “Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles repeatedly, the reality of everything starting to sink in for you. Maybe you should have believed the rumours about his mental instability, maybe you should have kicked him away when he first grabbed your thighs, perhaps you should be telling him right now that you’re not his, but instead, a string of words come out of your mouth, feeling like they’re only half your own.

“Can you eat me out again?”

And he happily complies, sliding back down onto his knees.

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hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

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blujayonthewing · 2 years ago

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if I make a honey-free Jill Version of the healing potion shot with fireball because jill loves fireball is that too on the nose or what

#I'm leaning 'yeah that's silly'#mostly because it's now so different from the flavor profile and like... Concept I'm trying to go for #that at that point it should just be its own different thing #ALTHOUGH.... CINNAMON AND RASPBERRY.... could be INTERESTING...?? get some kind of pastry vibe? HMM.#the thing is I want to invent a drink specifically For Her with fireball in it #whereas the Jill Healing Potion is just an allergy safe variation #the good news about making a variation of the healing potion instead of rebuilding the whole thing is I can also still use brandy #I tried it with other spirits but I actually really prefer it with brandy but JILL is also allergic to WINE lmao so #about me #irl frens #potions

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cookieofearthbread · 2 years ago

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If you were a deity, what would you be the god of?

(Part 1)

Nightmares and Discord

Your intensity is fearsome. When you feel hurt you don’t often seek out equal and fair revenge but rather drown them in hysteria and watch them burn. You’re temperamental and your emotions are on display for the world to see. You’re the last one any human would want to upset, because even though death would not directly befall them, doom and chaos would ensue, surrounding their life until their death.

Winter and Death

You’re known for your self-discipline and rigidity. Although you may be perceived as cold and intimidating by those who don’t directly worship you, you’re actually quite fair and polite. Your followers pray to you for a safe winter and peaceful death.

Creation and Light

You're youthful and vivacious. Your followers often have an aura of freedom and positivity surrounding them. You give them the fire to illuminate the dark and free themselves. Even the thought of you is a great source of inspiration and courage.

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quarterlifekitty · 2 months ago

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on the fantasy aus.. witch!reader who bakes her spells into pastries and stirs them into drinks at her little cafe and perchance any one of the 141 boys being a frequent customer? big ol knight who needs a little pick me up sometimes?

You’re getting all of them because sometimes I look at these asks and otome games flash in my mind

Gaz, to be quite honest, is mostly here for the pastries and tea. The magic stuff is just a bonus. As a result, the charms he gets are very simple, mostly cosmetic stuff. Clearing under eye bags, whitening teeth, stuff like that. His relentless flirting does not get him free hand pies, much to his dismay.

Soap is on that painkiller pastry grindset. He has various chronic pains that you have spells to soothe in the form of blueberry and cheese danishes. And he probably gets a horrifically sweet drink with whatever the magic equivalent of adderall is. He dabbles in apothecary himself, so he likes to flirt by talking shop with you about potions and reagents.

Ghost comes in like clockwork. Right before closing every day that you’re open. Gets a sleepy time tea and whatever pastry has got the dreamcatcher spell in it. Always overpays and refuses to take any change. Every time he casually reminds you that the offer for marriage is still open, but you’re not yet entirely convinced it’s not just a ploy to have a limitless supply of your tea.

Price is not here for the pastry or the magic— he’s here to wife you the fuck up, to be honest. He sees that you’re hardworking and talented as well as stunning. In addition, he thinks you should come work in the palace to provide your services to the royal guard, rather than running this tiny shop on a side street in town. So he’s trying to sweep you up on two fronts.

König gets the same kind of spells as most knights— treats to soothe various pains and accelerate healing, drinks that encourage pleasant dreams. His most frequent orders are for fruit tarts that increase luck and fortune— sometimes he gets the ones for coming battles, but mostly he gets the ones that are meant to bring luck in matters of the heart. He’s desperately hoping you’ll get the hint soon.

Nik travels vast distances often, and is one of your primary suppliers for ingredients. He’s guilty of regularly offering steep discounts in exchange for kisses (you’ve limited it to just the cheek). He also likes to remind you that you wouldn’t have to compensate him at all if this were more of a family business between you two, yes?

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astarionancuntnin · 9 months ago

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Midnight's Embrace

summary: you can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep. your fight with the netherbrain is approaching fast and your anxiety is only increasing. halsin proposes to try a special brand of herbs to alleviate your mind. turns out this herb also awoke something else in you.

rating: E

word count: 3k

pairing: astarion x you x halsin (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with no plot, late act 3 business, reader is tav, massage turning into something more, polyamory, reader is sandwiched between her two bfs, recreational drug use, stoned sex, mildly dubious consent due to drug intake (reader & astarion), praise kink, threesome, dry humping, blood/vampire bites, unprotected sex, anal fingering and penetration, double penetration, creampie, aftercare, overall sane safe and as consensual as one can be under the influence.

a/n: taking a smol break from my angsty writing to deliver some smut goodness. hope you enjoy! (i sure did)

a/n²: this is absolutely self-indulgent stuff and i will not be sorry about it. i wish i had two loving boyfriends fucking me while i was high, is that so much to ask

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below ~

You can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep.

Since your arrival in Baldur’s Gate, your nights have been restless, and your anxiety related to your upcoming fight with the Netherbrain has only increased. It’s not uncommon for you to wake up sweating in the middle of the night, panting, and checking your surroundings. You feel as if you’re only one inconvenience away from crumbling and your lovers are worried about you. You keep trying to reassure them that you’ll be fine once the Netherbrain is dealt with, but they won’t hear you out; you’ve only ever taken care of your companions since the start. Everyone has found their peace but you.

Halsin and Astarion urged you to start to focus on yourself, and you wanted to, but the truth is you had no idea where to start; you were used to taking care of everyone else, your own wellbeing never crossed your mind. One night, after Astarion feeds on you, he mentions how tense you are, and that he would gladly massage your neck to help with the tension you've accumulated. This makes you think about asking your other companions about their own techniques to decompress. Throughout the day, you ask around: “what do you do when you’re stressed out?” Shadowheart mentions that she meditates and stretches, and while it’s not a bad idea, with your mind constantly racing, you doubt you’d be able to easily meditate. Lae’zel mentions practice dueling, which she usually partakes with Wyll, and although it seems to be working for them, you wanna try to avoid more fighting before your upcoming fight.

That’s when Halsin tells you about the medicinal benefits of some herbs, and how they could help you relax. Although you’ve never tried, you’re open to the idea; you’ll try anything that could potentially ease your night terrors. You spend the next day marching the streets to reach an herb shop. As you enter, a lady greets you cheerfully, offering her help to find you exactly what you need. They offered a great variety of consumables infused with their many strands available : pastries, desserts, drinks and potions, candies; if you could imagine it, they had it. The lady explains the effect each of their products have and their specialities. After looking around, you settle on a cookie with Midnight’s Embrace, a sleep inducing herb. You thank her and head back to the Elfsong for the night.

You finish your meal with the special cookie and soon after, you bid your companions goodnight before fetching your partners to accompany you through the night. After all, you still intend on holding Astarion to his word about that massage he mentioned the other night, and Halsin promised to be by your side as this was your first time consuming something like this.

You had reserved the room with the biggest bed they had, just for this occasion. You reach for the bed first, lying comfortably on your chest, ready for your long-awaited massage. Halsin is next to join you, removing his shirt to get comfortable before sitting next to you with his back against the headboard, and Astarion joins soon after, kneeling behind you. The pale elf straightens up before laying his hands on your back, wasting no time to work through the knots in your tired muscles. The relief you feel is almost instant.

Halsin combs through your hair, pushing it aside to reveal your blissful face. “How are you feeling?”

“Sooooo good. A massage was the best idea.”

As it turns out, the massage combined with the herb-induced dessert enhanced each other, as the effect of the cookie you ingested earlier had already started settling in. When the lady mentioned they were “fast-acting”, you didn’t expect almost spontaneous-acting. Your skin feels more sensitive – in a good way – but you know that it’s the effect of the drugs, as if every touch was the softest caress you’ve received, and you found yourself leaning in the vampire's strong and graceful grip, only wanting more. As he makes his way to your lower back, a few unconscious moans escape your mouth before you can stop them.

“I take it that you’re enjoying yourself, then?” Astarion asks, smiling, in response to your moaning.

“It’s just… your hands…” you sigh content, leaning into his touch. “They feel amazing.”

“I'm happy to provide, my love.”

His dexterous hands turn you to putty and you wish you could feel more, every inch of your body yearning for attention. He keeps working on your back while you reach out to Halsin, his much bigger hand holding yours tightly. You slightly turn your head to be able to look at him.

“I… want you to touch me too.”

“Tell me where you need me, my heart.”

“Can you hold me? I want to be held by you two.”

The two men look at each other in understanding before repositioning themselves on each side of you ; Astarion hugging your waist from behind, nuzzling himself in the crook of your neck, and Halsin sheltering you in his arms, his head resting on top of yours.

The effects of the cookie kept getting stronger : you felt lighter, more peaceful and happier, your mind was clear from any lingering anxiety, only taking in the love surrounding you. In the comfort of their arms, you let your hands roam over the archdruid's chest, exploring each crevasse. The drugs made you more sensitive, especially down there, and it doesn’t take you long to feel a familiar warmth pool down to your stomach. You gently rub your thighs together, chasing the feeling growing between your legs, when you feel the man behind you slightly pull away.

“Hold on, are you–” He raises his head to look down your waist, “Oh, you little devil. You are touching yourself!”

It seems that you had lost all awareness, not realizing your movements were brushing against Astarion’s groin. Your blood rushes to your face and you suddenly feel warm, “I– Gods, I didn't realize–”

He clicks his tongue, “None of that. We're here for you to feel better, remember? Now, tell us, what does your heart desire?”

“I…” You feel bashful for all the thoughts swirling around your mind, unable to speak them aloud: you wish to be taken at once by both of your lovers, having them make you feel whole as they fill you with their love, touch, kiss, bite, every part of your body. Surely, you're influenced by the herbs, but you can't deny that even sober, the thoughts have crossed your mind. The drugs simply allowed them to wander freely and amplify them slightly.

You finally manage to get a few words out, barely expressing the full extent of your carnal desires, “I want you… Both… to… massage me… everywhere.”

Halsin cups your face softly, kissing your forehead before getting up. “Let's get you comfortable, shall we?”

You nod hazily, and he helps you remove your camp clothing, before removing the rest of his own, leaving you both naked on the bed. While Halsin was helping you dress down, Astarion allowed himself to remove his own shirt, providing you the skin-on-skin you desired from both of them, all the while respecting his own boundaries. Now comfortably nestled between your lovers, you let your hands explore the man facing you. His warmth is overwhelming and you can't stop touching him, languidly going over his chest and shoulders, your concentration faltering.

“I believe our beloved is rather hungry tonight,” Astarion says, smiling.

The archdruid makes eye contact with you, lovingly holding your cheek, “Is this what you want, my love?”

“Yes, please, I've never wanted anything more,” you plead, now with a breathy voice.

Halsin gives you a soft smile and his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. Your hips buck on their own, brushing over Halsin’s cock already awakening to your touch

Astarion keeps massaging your tits, never letting you go from his embrace and starts kissing your neck.

“Do you like that, my sweet?” He said between two kisses.

“Y- yes… please… more.”

He drags his hand alongside your body, his nails lightly grazing your skin, tracing every curve, every scar and mark on your body, leaving goosebumps in its trail, before landing over your ass.

“Like this?” He asks with a husky voice.

“Yes…” you breathe out.

Halsin follows Astarion's lead, his own hand caressing your side before landing on your thigh, lifting it up to hook your leg around his waist.

“How about this?”

His hand finds its way to your cunt, softly stroking along your entrance.

You sigh content, your hips bucking into him more, trying to make his fingers enter you.

“More…I need more…”

The archdruid slides his finger inside you, giving you exactly what you want and you moan, letting your nails dig in the muscles of his arm. He steadies his rhythm and your hand finds its way in Astarion's hair, pulling him closer to you. His lips reach your ear, guided by your hand.

“By the gods, you're so beautiful,” he says, nibbling on your ear, getting a whimper out of you, as he leaves a trail of kisses down the nape of your neck.

The attention from your lovers makes you squirm under them as every inch of you is yearning for more contact. Halsin rewards your movements by entering you with a second finger and you cry out of pleasure.

“Keep singing for me my love,” Halsin says.

His fingers working your cunt and his thumb rubbing over your clit only awaken something stronger in you.

“Please Halsin, I need you.”

“You will have me, my heart.”

Your other hand reaches for his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes, “All of you.”

He reads the urgency in your gaze and he removes his finger from you, giving them a taste and humming at your essence.

“By the Oak Father, you taste like the sweetest of honeys, my love.” His voice is deep, but soft; you can hear the admiration he holds for you, your body, your soul, and it only makes you want him even more.

He places his cock at your entrance before slowly pushing in fully, and you hold onto his face, taking in deep breaths as he gives you time to adjust to his size.

“Look at you…” Astarion whispers close to your ear. “You're taking him so well, my love,” he rewards you by groping your nipples, lightly pinching them in the process.

You arch your back at the sensation, giving him easier access to not only your breast, but your neck as well, and his mouth instinctively finds its way to the familiar spot of his feeding. His cold tongue traces over your pulsating vein, seemingly asking for permission, and yet, you were the one reduced to a pleading mess.

“Please...”

He hums in the crook of your neck and you feel his smile against your skin, “Please what?”

Your chest rises higher with each breath you take “Bite me.”

He holds your head back by lightly pulling your hair and sinks his teeth into your neck. You cry out at the initial sting and quickly get lost in the feeling. The flow of your blood leaving your body is even more ecstatic than usual; as if you could feel the blood in every vein in your body being pulled away as Astarion drank from you ravishingly. Knowing your limits and accounting for the condition you're in, he pulls back earlier than usual, and you whine at the loss of his mouth only to moan more as Halsin finally starts moving inside you. What the vampire hadn’t thought of was the effect your blood was going to have on him, now that it was mixed with the drugs you took earlier. It wasn't rare for him to get hard drinking from you, but he usually dismissed the feeling since you've discussed taking things slow. This time however, his cock felt rock hard and the drugs now flowing through him made him chase the feeling that the fabric rubbing over him was providing.

He grabs your waist, grinding into your back, while Halsin pumps in and out of you with slow strokes. With any restraint gone, Astarion pushes his hips into you, rubbing himself down through his trousers. By now, his need is clearly showcased by the pre-come stain on his pants, and the head of his cock poking out of his waistband, flushed pink by your blood running through it.

Halsin notices Astarion's mood change and he reaches out to hold his face, bringing him back to him, before he can act on impulse.

“Do you want this?”

His eyes are sincere and caring; granted the reasons they're in this situation is for you, but that doesn't undermine their own needs as well. Astarion nods, affirming his consent, before freeing his erection to show his intentions. Now certain that his lover wanted this as much as himself, Halsin made sure you were ready for them.

He cups your face and gently strokes your cheek. As if he had read your mind earlier, he asks, “Do you think you can take us both, my heart?”

“Yes,” your voice is merely a whisper, but the lust you express is clear nonetheless.

He removes himself from inside of you to wet his fingers with your juices, only to take them back out to move them down to your tight hole. His finger coated by your slick gently enters your ass and you gasp at the sensation, surprised at first, but welcoming it as you push down against him. He slides a second finger and you moan in pleasure.

“That's my good girl.”

He prepares your hole, making sure you're accustomed to the feeling, then removes his fingers to spit in his hand, now to prepare Astarion for you. He grasps the vampire's length and slowly strokes him. Astarion hisses at the initial contact, but quickly melts into his touch, bucking his hips into Halsin's wet hand. The archdruid aligns his partner's cock at your tight entrance while he positions himself back against your pussy, ready to enter you again. He asks for one final permission.

“Are you ready, my love?”

With partly lidded eyes, you nod and whisper a faint yes, and he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, while his hips and Astarion's thrust into you at once.

You cry into his mouth, both overwhelmed by their sizes and the friction having both of them at the same time provided, and behind you, the vampire growls, steadying himself inside your ass. Having both him and Halsin inside you like this was a sensation you couldn’t begin to describe. It’s everything you ever wanted, you feel whole, but also vulnerable; you were entirely at their mercy, and you wouldn’t be able to get out from their strong hold on you, especially not in the state you’re in. You're completely helpless, caged between their imposing arms and legs, and yet, you’ve never felt more safe than you do right at this moment. For once, you could let go, let yourself be guided, your life between their hands.

You’re brought back to the moment when they start moving, picking up a slow and steady pace, and you let yourself be used by them; while one pulls out, the other enters you fully. You’re rendered speechless, reduced to moans and soft cries, but your lovers make sure to fill in for your silence.

“You feel so good.” The voice behind you groans close to your ear. His grip on your hips tightens, with his sharp nails lightly digging into your soft skin.

“So deliciously wet, just for us.” A honeyed voice praises you more and you start to lose your hold.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight.”

“You're doing so well.”

Their words of praise worked like a charm on you, and they knew the effect it had on you. They noticed how you reacted to encouragement on the battlefield, and it applied just as much in bed.

“My love.”

“My good girl.”

The shock to your mind hits you like lightning. You convulse between them, crying out as electricity runs through you, your walls tightening against their cocks, milking them dry.

“Ugnnh I'm– ah fuck- I'm close.”

“Mnh- my heart, I’m gonna come–.”

You're still going through your first orgasm when you feel a second one hitting you brutally as they shoot ropes of come inside both of your holes, leaving you overflowing from them.

The sensation numbs you out entirely, still spasming around their members, but completely spent and breathless. Your mind is blank, with nothing but pure bliss swirling around. As if you were between two worlds, switching from dream to reality, you barely feel your lovers pull out of you and move around, cleaning themselves and you. You think you hear a distant voice saying “let’s get you cleaned up” as you’re lifted up from the bed. You don’t notice Astarion removing the ruined sheet, but too tired of his own to care about replacing it with another, and snuggling back in bed. You’re laid down next to him and you instinctively reach out for him; your hand reaching out for his, laying close to his undead heart, and your forehead leaning over his shoulder. Finally, the archdruid slides behind you, covering you three with a warm blanket, his arm circling over your waist. At long last, you let yourself drift to sleep in his loving embrace.

For the first time in weeks, you get a real, good night of sleep.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat

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cafe-of-boards · 18 days ago

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Warning for flashing and fast gifs below cut!

⚪️|🧪|🧫

🚿|⏳️|🫧

🪨|🐾|🧸

Forbidden Snack stimboard

Event: @stimming-puppet 2020 Comeback Event Day 6

Themes: Orbeez, potions, slime, shower gel, glass blowing, tide pods, rocks, taba squishies, food plushies

Note: Yummy 😋 /hj /silly

Song:

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houseofceline · 1 year ago

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My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Steal My Girl

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

Summary: Theo's friends get to meet you for the first time.

< 2

__________________

Perfect.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction after taking a little study break to organize all your fabrics by color. The plan was originally to go to the dining hall to grab a quick snack, but your messy little studio set up in your dorm easily distracted you on the way out and made you change your plans.

Your fingers flipped through the pages of your design sketchbook. A small smile formed on your face as you traced your sketches.

Fashion.

The only thing that you felt competent in. You didn’t have to try to make things look good. It was the only thing that came natural to you. You could plan an entire outfit for any occasion faster than you could even list the ingredients in a simple potion. You weren’t going to become a doctor like both of your parents, but you thought it’d be better to do something you’re good at rather than forcing yourself to study materials that you’ll never be able to understand. No matter how many times they tried to persuade, or threaten, you to change career paths, you never strayed far from your dreams. The dreams that kept you happy when you were scolded for wanting to stay home and draw instead of going with your father to work.

At least you will never have the chance to mess up a surgery. That would be worse than the invention of jeggings.

The door swung open and your roommate walked in. You furrow your eyebrows upon her presence, wondering why she would be back so early from her date with Cedric.

“How’d your date go?” You closed your design book and walked towards your bed before flopping onto it.

So comfy.

Cho sighed before rolling her eyes, “stupid last minute quidditch practice.”

You giggled as your stomach growled. Maybe you should’ve gotten a snack before you decided to clean.

“Dining hall?” Cho offered her arm out.

You jumped up from your bed and happily skipped over to her and took her arm.

“I’m famished,” You exclaimed in desperate need of having anything in your stomach after the oatmeal bowl for breakfast.

“Me too, Cedric had promised me pastries from a bakery in Hogsmeade before I got canceled on,” Cho grumbled as the two of you walked in a pair towards the hall.

Pastries. Croissants. Ugh you missed home. France has the best pastries. Now you were craving a chocolate croissant. Not that croissants are the only pastry in France.

“Next ti- ow,” you rubbed your head after the harsh impact, stumbling a bit.

“Watch where you’re going next time mate,” another boy came up and landed a harsh slap on his back.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” The boy in front of you questioned frantically while trying to hide the fact that he was searching your head for any bruises. Theo might kill him if he made a bruise on his “pretty girl”.

“I‘m okay,” you waved your hands in front of your face, kind of nervous that people were starting to look.

“Hello y/n,” The other boy came up and offered his hand out.

You were confused on how he knew your name despite the fact that you didn’t know his, but still shook his hand.

The boy chuckled at your confused looking expression. He could understand why Theo had called you pretty instead of his usual “she’s hot”s that the group would receive when talking about girls.

“I’m Mattheo, Riddle,” he winked, “Nott’s friend. And this is Lorenzo.”

You made an ‘ohh’ face in recognition but you remained surprised at the fact that you were even linked to him.

Cho nudged your side. You looked over to her and was met with a raised eyebrow. You were as equally as confused as her. You and Theodore had only interacted once and it was during that one potions class, the day Cho had to skip due to sickness. You had no idea why his friends knew about you or were even talking to you.

But nonetheless you offered a warm smile towards the two boys, “nice to meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Lorenzo returned the gesture. You liked him, he seemed nice.

Cho cleared her throat while clutching her stomach. You had forgotten what the two of you had even come to the hall for.

“Well, enjoy your meal!” You waved them goodbye as Cho dragged you to the Ravenclaw filled tables and out of their sights.

“Who are you losers bothering,” Theo scowled and smacked the two boys on the back.

“We were just getting acquainted with our best mate’s girlfriend,” Mattheo teased as Theo raised his arm pretending to hit him, making Mattheo duck.

“Girlfriend? Please, you and I both know I don’t do none of that,” Theo rolled his eyes and the trio walked over to their table.

“Lucky her, you’re not exactly boyfriend material yourself,” Enzo replied as they took their seats grabbing their lunches before quidditch practice. The first game between Slytherin and Gryffindor was coming up, they needed all the fuel they could get before Malfoy made them run what felt like 100 laps during practice.

“What are you talking about? I'm the epitome of it,” Theo replied confidently as he took a bite of his sandwich. Sandwich was a bit dry, Italians do it better.

“Right, someone bring Hannah over for questioning,” Mattheo laughed as Theo glared at him.

“We never dated, I don’t owe her anything.”

____________________

“IT’S SO COLD!” You let out a high pitched scream as a huge gust of wind blew right into your face. You had a sweater that you knitted yourself on, paired with a skirt and black tights along with a designer scarf you had searched the whole country for. It was late October, but you hadn’t expected the weather to drop this low. Maybe you should’ve worn your winter coat or opted for a bigger scarf. Or maybe you shouldn’t have come at all. That was the original plan until Cho had managed to convince you to attend. You didn’t really understand quidditch. The whole game seemed complicated to you, plus the whole flying really high and the possibilities of students getting hurt didn’t sit well with your stomach. But you came regardless and it seemed to make Cho very happy.

“I KNOW BUT WE HAVE SUCH GOOD SEATS!” Cho screamed over the loud clapping and cheering that signaled that the game was about to start. Loud screaming, another thing you weren’t a huge fan of.

“HERE!” Cho screamed as she took her earmuffs off and placed them on your head.

“YOU MIGHT NEED THEM MORE THAN I DO!” She yelled before turning her attention back to the game.

One by one players in either red or green began to fly out. Everyone you were cheering as if it was a competition to see which side would be the loudest.

“GO HARRY! YEAH!” You heard Cedric shout from the other side of Cho.

You didn’t know any Gryffindors that well but since you were in a crowd of people all supporting that team, you didn’t want to stand out so you decided to clap along.

You recognized a few Slytherin players, the faces of the two boys who you had bumped into a few days earlier were spotted flying on broomsticks. You secretly clapped for them as well.

The mixture of red and green made your heart happy. Christmas. Your favorite holiday. Only two months to go! You couldn’t wait until you get to start putting together presents and drink peppermint mochas with your friends. It was all so exciting!

Focus on the game!

You scolded yourself. You look up and frown as you see players begin to grow aggressive. You frowned as a Gryffindor player tried to throw one of those flying balls at Lorenzo.

You knew it was part of the game but the fact that someone had almost harmed the nice boy made you want to reach for your wand.

“Yay go Enzo!” You cheered and clapped as you watched him dodge them with ease. A few Gryffindors side eyed you and gave you nasty stares but it was hard to pay them any mind with the distracting colors of ketchup and mustard wrapped around their necks.

Theo wanted to thank Berkshire, he really did. He wanted to thank him for providing him the strength to throw bludgers at Gryffindors. What was he doing stealing your attention like that? Last time he checked Berkshire was busy trying to ask out a Slytherin a year younger than them. He needs to leave you alone, you were his friend first. Maybe he should throw a bludger and knock Berkshire off his broom.

Would that be a Slytherin or Gryffindor point?

#theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts oc #hogwarts au #harry potter #slytherin #ravenclaw #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #hp fandom #hp fanfic

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ohisms · 8 months ago

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↪ 𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 , HISTORICAL 〳 FANTASY edition ! ( a collection of 25 settings based upon the period 〳 fantasy genres ; meant to inspire drabbles or be used as prompts . WILL be updated . )

001. the interior of an elegant carriage .

002. seated at a large dining table set with an elaborate meal .

003. the shadowy corner of a lively tavern .

004. the top of a light house during a raging storm .

005. along the dimly lit corridor of a large manor .

006. the damp , dark brig of a pirate ship .

007. the ruins of an ancient structure lost to time .

008. a theater hall brimming with attendees .

009. the bustling streets of a market town .

010. a sun - drenched vineyard .

011. along a boardwalk overlooking the sea .

012. a moonlit cemetery full of weathered graves .

013. on horseback , deep in the woods .

014. a luxurious drawing room smelling of tea .

015. a sprawling dragon roost , hidden atop craggy mountain peaks .

016. a war - torn battlefield .

017. a beautiful cathedral bustling with churchgoers .

018. within a crammed opera box during a performance .

019. an elegant tearoom serving afternoon refreshments .

020. a lakeside pavilion on an especially hot day .

021. a sprawling network of underground catacombs .

022. a hidden glade in the middle of the woods .

023. the deep , dark dungeon of a castle .

024. a market square full of fruit and fineries .

025. a baker's shop smelling of wonderful pastries .

026. the quiet stables of a large estate .

027. on the outskirts of a magnificent water fountain .

028. in a dimly lit library , hidden amongst the books .

029. among the high walls of a hedge maze .

030. at the front desk of a warm , homey inn .

031. under the protection of a gazebo as it rains .

032. on the landing of a busy train station .

033. a gambling hall alight with raucous laughter and drink .

034. a pristine infirmary , mostly empty .

035. on board a huge ship making a long voyage .

+ 20 more setting prompts : 6 / 01 / 2024

036. in a sunlit garden adorned with blooming flowers .

037. at the edge of a serene forest lake under a starry sky.

038. within a quiet corridor of a castle during a lavish ball .

039. in a bustling blacksmith's forge , sparks flying .

040. on a rocky cliffside overlooking a vast ocean .

041. in a quaint village square during a festival .

042. within a secret chamber hidden behind a bookshelf .

043. in the grand atrium of a luxurious hotel .

044. along a narrow brick alleyway in a crowded town .

045. within a busy marketplace in a desert town .

046. on a tranquil beach at sunrise .

047. in a cozy cottage with a crackling fireplace .

048. at the helm of a majestic airship soaring through the clouds .

049. in a grand library filled with ancient tomes .

050. on a bustling harbor dock as ships come and go .

051. within a magical forest where the trees glow softly .

052. in an apothecary's shop filled with herbs and potion .

053. at a secluded cabin by a dangerously quick river .

054. within the opulent throne room of a powerful ruler .

055. in an enchanted glade where fairies dance in the moonlight .

#rp meme #rp prompt #inbox prompt #ohisms #rp inbox prompt

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ms-snape · 9 days ago

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Omg please write an imagine in which reader and snape are in a relationship and she never calls him by his name, only nicknames and stuff like that (baby, darling, love, different nicknames, etc.) one day either the fight or he tells her off about it and suddenly she stops and calls like everyone else (Severus/snape/whatever) and only then he realizes how much he loved the way it previously was and it drives him mad trying to get her to go back without out right saying it (cause the grumpy proud man that he is😂)

Title: Grumpy Proud Man

Warning: A bit of angst

Words Count: 2000+

___

The warm, golden light of the early morning filtered through the greenhouse windows, casting intricate patterns across the floor. Y/N hummed softly to herself, her hands deep in the soil of a Venomous Tentacula pot. The plant quivered slightly, its tendrils curling inwards as if it recognized her gentle touch. Herbology was her passion, and every day spent tending to the vibrant flora of Hogwarts felt like a dream come true.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and smiled. Severus would be finishing his first class of the day soon. Her heart gave a little flutter, as it always did when she thought of him. Severus Snape, the enigmatic Potions Master, with his sharp wit and sharper tongue, was a man who had captured her heart entirely. She adored him, though he often pretended to be immune to such affection.

Y/N wiped her hands on her apron and set the Venomous Tentacula aside. She wanted to surprise him with tea in his office—a small token of her love. As she prepared the tray with precise care, her mind wandered to the first time they’d spoken. It had been over a shared interest in rare magical plants. What had started as professional respect had grown into a deep bond, though they couldn’t have been more different in temperament.

Where Y/N was warm and openly affectionate, Severus was reserved, his emotions locked behind an impenetrable wall. But she saw through it—the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the way his voice lowered when they spoke. He loved her, even if he struggled to say it aloud.

Over the following days, Y/N made a habit of showering Severus with affection in small, thoughtful ways. She would slip into the dungeons with a fresh cup of tea or a plate of his favorite biscuits, always accompanied by a soft kiss on his temple or a playful ruffle of his hair. “My Sevvy,” she’d call him, her voice dripping with adoration. “You work too hard. Take a moment to breathe, love.”

Severus would sigh, his expression caught between exasperation and fondness. “You’re incorrigible,” he’d mutter, though he never truly pushed her away. He didn’t know how to respond to such open affection, but he found himself craving her presence nonetheless.

In the evenings, she’d join him in his quarters, curling up beside him on the worn sofa as he read through his notes. She’d rest her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns along his arm. “Sevvy, darling, have I told you how much I love you today?”

“Only a dozen times,” he’d reply dryly, though his lips would twitch as if suppressing a smile.

“Well, it bears repeating,” she’d say, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You’re brilliant, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

These moments brought a flicker of warmth to Severus’s otherwise somber world, though he struggled to reconcile them with his own guarded nature. While he appreciated her love, he often found himself retreating inward, unsure of how to handle such unabashed devotion.

One morning, as Y/N prepared a basket of pastries to bring to the staff lounge, she couldn’t resist adding a small bouquet of flowers from the greenhouse. Severus had been particularly terse the day before, and she wanted to brighten his mood.

When she arrived at his office, she found him hunched over his desk, his hair falling in dark curtains around his face. She knocked lightly before stepping inside. “Sevvy, love, I brought you something.”

He looked up, his expression immediately guarded. “What is it now?”

She set the basket down, her smile unwavering. “Just some pastries and a little something to make your office feel less dreary.” She held out the bouquet, her eyes shining with hope.

Severus stared at the flowers, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “Y/N,” he said, his tone measured, “this isn’t necessary.”

“Of course it is,” she replied, undeterred. “You deserve to be surrounded by beauty.”

“I’m quite capable of managing without,” he said sharply, pushing the bouquet away.

Her smile faltered, but she quickly masked her disappointment. “Alright,” she said softly, setting the flowers on the windowsill instead. “I’ll just leave them here in case you change your mind.”

The tension reached its breaking point a few days later. Y/N had come to his office after dinner, her arms full of papers she’d been grading. She’d planned to sit with him while he worked, enjoying their usual quiet companionship. But when she called him “Sevvy” for the third time that evening, his patience snapped.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “must you persist with these ridiculous nicknames?”

She blinked, startled. “I didn’t think you minded,” she said, her voice tinged with hurt. “It’s just my way of showing you how much I care.”

“And I have tolerated it,” he said, standing abruptly. “But there are limits. I am not some simpering fool to be coddled with pet names.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising within her. “I never meant to make you feel that way. I just… I thought it made you happy.”

“Happy?” he repeated, his tone biting. “Do I strike you as a man who delights in such trivialities?”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “I didn’t realize my affection was such a burden to you.”

“Y/N,” he began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“No, I understand,” she said, her voice firm despite the crack in it. “If it bothers you that much, I won’t call you those names anymore.”

She turned and left, her footsteps echoing in the dimly lit corridor. Severus watched her go, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar ache. He didn’t try to stop her.

The days that followed were marked by a distinct shift in their dynamic. Y/N kept her promise, addressing him only as Severus or Professor Snape, even when they were alone. She no longer reached for his hand during their quiet walks around the grounds, nor did she surprise him with kisses on his cheek when they crossed paths in the corridors. Her vibrant warmth seemed to dim, replaced by a careful restraint that mirrored his own.

At first, Severus told himself it was a relief. He valued order and discipline, even in his personal life. But as the days turned into weeks, he began to notice the absence of her usual cheer. The way her laughter no longer echoed through the greenhouse, the way her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was still kind, still attentive, but there was a distance between them that hadn’t been there before.

One evening, as they sat together in her quarters, the silence between them felt heavier than usual. Y/N was curled up on the sofa, a book in her lap, while Severus sipped his tea. The fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth did little to dispel the chill in the room.

“Y/N,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

She looked up from her book, her expression neutral. “Yes, Severus?”

He hesitated, the words forming and reforming in his mind. “Have I upset you?”

Her brows lifted in mild surprise. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You…” He gestured vaguely. “You’ve been different.”

She closed her book and set it aside, turning to face him fully. “I’ve only been doing what you asked. I’ve respected your boundaries.”

Her words were calm, but there was an edge to them that made his chest tighten. “I didn’t mean for you to… withdraw entirely.”

“I haven’t,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “I still care for you deeply, Severus. I’m just… trying to be what you need.”

He frowned, leaning forward slightly. “And what of what you need?”

Her lips curved into a sad smile. “I thought what I needed was you. But perhaps I’ve been asking too much.”

Her words hung in the air, and Severus had no reply. The fire crackled, filling the silence as the space between them seemed to grow wider. For the first time, Severus realized just how much he missed the sound of her calling him “Sevvy,” of her warm laughter echoing in the stillness. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

The following week brought more moments of realization, though Severus kept his thoughts buried. One afternoon, as they worked side by side in the greenhouse, Y/N handed him a cutting from a Fanged Geranium.

“Here, Severus,” she said, her tone polite but distant. “This one’s ready for potting.”

He took the cutting, his fingers brushing hers for a brief moment. The usual spark of warmth was absent, replaced by an emptiness that gnawed at him. He watched her as she moved to the other side of the greenhouse, her focus entirely on the plants. She didn’t hum as she usually did, and the silence felt oppressive.

Later that evening, during dinner in the Great Hall, Y/N addressed him in the same formal tone. “Severus, could you pass the salt?”

He complied, the simple act feeling strangely hollow. As he glanced at her, he noticed the faint lines of exhaustion around her eyes. She was smiling at something Professor Sprout had said, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He looked away, a knot tightening in his chest.

By the time the evening ended, Severus found himself lingering in the corridor outside her quarters. He raised his hand to knock but hesitated. What could he say? That he missed her warmth, her nicknames, her unbridled affection? The words refused to form, and after a moment, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

As the days stretched on, the distance between them became almost unbearable. Severus found himself longing for the very things he’d pushed away—the sound of her laughter, the way she’d light up a room just by being in it. But his pride held him back, keeping the words locked inside.

One evening, as they passed each other in the corridor, Y/N offered him a small, polite smile. “Good evening, Severus,” she said softly.

He nodded, his throat tightening. “Good evening, Y/N.”

As she walked away, the realization struck him with full force: he’d driven away the one person who had ever truly cared for him. And though he desperately wanted to fix it, he didn’t know how. Instead, he stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared around the corner.

The following night, Severus sat in his quarters, the air thick with the scent of brewing potions and the faint crackle of the fire. A small vial of calming draught sat untouched on the edge of his desk. He had been staring at it for an hour, his mind replaying the moments of their relationship, the brightness she brought, the warmth he hadn’t realized he depended on.

He set the vial aside and stood, his resolve hardening. Enough was enough. He couldn’t undo the pain he had caused her, but he could at least admit he was wrong. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and left his quarters, his strides purposeful yet hesitant.

When he reached the greenhouse, he found her bent over a table, tending to a row of Flutterby bushes. The moonlight streaming through the glass panes caught in her hair, making her look ethereal. For a moment, he simply watched her, his chest tightening with a strange mix of longing and guilt.

“Y/N,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.

She straightened, turning to face him. “Severus,” she said, her tone neutral but not unkind. “What brings you here so late?”

He hesitated, his usual composure faltering. “I need to speak with you.”

She wiped her hands on her apron and nodded. “Of course. What is it?”

The words stuck in his throat for a moment, but he forced them out. “I… I owe you an apology.”

Her eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her face. She said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve been a fool,” he admitted, his voice heavy with self-reproach. “Your affection, your warmth… I took it for granted. Worse, I dismissed it as trivial when it was anything but.”

Her expression softened, though she still looked guarded. “Severus…”

He stepped closer, his dark eyes searching hers. “I thought I needed distance, control. But all I’ve managed to do is drive you away. And in doing so, I’ve come to realize how much I miss… everything about you. Your laughter, your kindness. Even the ridiculous nicknames.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, though tears glistened in her eyes. “You mean that?”

“I do,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m not good at this, Y/N. I don’t know how to show love the way you do, but… I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

She closed the distance between them, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “Oh, Severus,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You didn’t have to be perfect. You just had to be you.”

His hands came to rest lightly on her waist, his touch tentative. “You deserve so much more than I’ve given you.”

“What I deserve,” she said firmly, “is a partner who tries. And if you’re willing to do that, then that’s all I need.”

He nodded, a faint sheen of tears in his own eyes. “I’ll try.”

She smiled then, the first genuine smile he’d seen from her in weeks. “That’s all I ask, Sevvy.”

A soft laugh escaped him, and he shook his head. “You’ll be insufferable with those names again, won’t you?”

“Absolutely,” she teased, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “But only because I love you.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Severus allowed himself to smile—a small, hesitant smile, but genuine nonetheless. Together, they stood in the moonlit greenhouse, the distance between them finally bridged.

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lokisgoodgirl · 6 months ago

Text

Marked : The Rite (VII.)

A Masterlist for The Rite is HERE A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (7) Shaken from Loki's exit, you seek counsel from the wisest person you know. As does Loki. And twin moons aren't the only thing coming together. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Mild angst. Asgardians behaving badly. More smut. (w.c 5.2k)

Loki didn’t know whose hands were touching him, whose breath was on his neck, whose empty congratulations were ringing in his ears.

He was halfway down the aisle before he realised you weren’t with him. Loki turned, trying to stop the tide of bodies sweeping him away.

Did I leave her?!

The moments after the announcement were a blur. He'd meant to take your hand, to pull you up with him...but —

I didn't. I left her.

The riotous blob burst into a small feasting hall near the Rite chamber with long tables laid with glazed hams and towers of pastries. Thor slapped Loki’s back hard enough to leave a mark.

"Is she getting changed? Is she coming?" Loki glanced over his shoulder, drawing the sash tight around his hips. It didn’t make much difference, being that the robe was translucent, but he needed something for his hands to do. “Don’t be absurd, brother.” A tankard was shoved into his hand. “Sif came to the festivities after your Rite—”

“Yes but Sif was a warrior, and a member of the inner circle." Thor’s face scrunched. ‘Your one is…” Loki’s face hardened. “Is what?”

Thor’s laugh made the ale ripple. “Come, Loki, be serious. She’s not one of us. You have what you wanted, your place in Asgard’s Royal line. You can stop playing the cunt-struck lovelorn, now.” Loki stiffened, setting the tankard down purposefully on the table. "She loves me."

"Yes, and?" Thor shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. "She isn’t the first, she won’t be the last. Who cares about her? Enjoy the—”

Loki smacked the tankard from Thor’s grip. It flew across the hall at force, hitting Fandral between the shoulder blades. He spun. “—I care...brother,” Loki hissed, so close to Thor’s face he could smell the pepper-roasted ham he’d been guzzling between idiocies.

“All my life I’ve been surrounded by people like you, thinking I was the one who should linger in shadow; the one who didn’t fit; who didn’t deserve the life he had.” His molars pressed together, growing more incensed with each of Thor’s vacant, casual chews. “But it was the rest of you that needed to change. She sees me for who I am, and she loves me.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Did that witch Lagertha slip her some magic potion to smear on her lady-bits? Brother, you’re acting most unlike yourself.” Loki’s hand flew to Thor’s throat, lifting him off the floor.

The blonde’s face turned red instantly, struggling against his grip. No one tried to intervene, they knew better than that. With a growl, Loki lowered him, but he didn’t release the grip on Thor’s windpipe.

“Perhaps I’ve been concealing the true fury I hold inside me, brother,” Loki hissed in his ear, enjoying the desperate swallow as he struggled for air. “Boys, boys,” Fandral smarmed, edging them apart. “Your brother’s right, Lo—ki,” Fandral said, sliding an arm around his shoulder and grasping against the chiffon clinging to his muscle. “Enjoy yourself, hmm? Forget that pretty nothing. Tonight, perhaps you’ll indulge in something more…on your level.” He winked, curling a loose strand of Loki’s top knot around a fingertip. “I told her not to get attached. It’s not your fault if she did, she was warned.” Realisation hit Loki like a chariot.

“What did you say to her?” he growled, noting the sudden fear in Fandral’s eyes. The man stumbled back, tripping over a pair of ridiculous satin shoes. Before he could hit the floor Loki’s arm shot out, grabbing the cravat bunched at Fandral’s neck and pulling him up. Fandral slammed against Loki’s chest, nails ripping down the fabric of his robe and tearing into chest muscle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorr—” “What…did you say to her?” An arctic silence had fallen over the feasting hall. Pain clawed beneath Loki’s skin, but he ignored it. Blood was already starting to clot between the minuscule weave. “That you were trying to make her fall in love with you, which, wh-which you did—”

“—And?” Loki shook him, making Fandral’s coiffured golden curl wobble loose. “—A-and that you’d discard her,” he choked, eyes darting manically to the ceiling. “Which…you did.”

Loki punched in the face: right on top of the fastenings covering his re-set nose from last night. Fandral whimpered as Loki punched him again, only stopping because of the tidal wave of arms pulling him off. He thrashed, throwing his fists and swiftly receiving one himself. Loki’s face wrenched to the side, the knot atop his head falling and the golden snake clip bouncing to the stone below. “Brother, stop…” Thor shook his fist, knuckles blossoming scarlet. Loki’s stare fell on Fandral, being hoisted between two guards out the room. He pressed his cheek, wincing. “I avoided your nose, at least,” Thor said. “But it will bruise, for certain.” “Fuck you, brother,” Loki spat.

He didn’t indulge the hands that grasped at him, half-drunk, petitioning him to stay at his own celebrations. He could still taste your delicate arousal on his tongue, and hear the unspoken words hanging in the air between the two of you.

I love you, your eyes had said, even before the enchanted robe confirmed it. He wondered if his had, too. What must she think of me?

The guards opened the golden door separating the inner palace from the outer court. Their eyes fell down his body, but they said nothing. Under normal circumstances, Loki could materialise a more modest outfit with a wave of his hand, but his emotions were too high; his magic was too unstable. So, for now, any members of the court milling around would have a scene to tell their grandchildren about: Loki of Asgard, resplendent in his Rite robe, cock hanging free – on the way to salvage the love he thought he’d never find — if she'd still have him. Quick footsteps pattered behind him and Loki whipped around, fire flashing in his eyes. Håkon stood masked in shadow, a low hood covering his face. “What are you doing here?” Loki said, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. Håkon shrugged. “I thought you might need me. When you messed up, you know?” Loki folded his arms, suddenly aware the boy was seeing him practically naked, but Håkon’s eyes were set firmly on his own, even when a pair of leather pants materialised around Loki's lower limbs. “What do you mean when I messed up?” Loki scoffed, feeling his ears burn. “Why—?”

Håkon sighed. “—Do you know where her rooms are?” A swallow worked down Loki’s throat, common sense spreading now that his heart had slowed. “No.” Håkon smirked in a way that Loki felt entirely responsible for. “Exactly. Come on, let me help you for once.” Loki’s heart wrenched a little at the sentiment, quickly diluted by the whisper of ‘idiot,’ as Håkon passed him. And then it was his turn to smirk.

The boy led him through a maze of corridors Loki had never seen before, up three flights of stairs and to the furthest wing of the court. Your door was open, but to his dismay, Loki quickly realised you weren’t there. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, emptied from a dresser.

“Where is she?” Loki growled to no one, and Håkon shrugged lightly. “Depends what you did, master,” he said, glancing out the door and down the corridor. “But she’s gone, alright.”

No one had tried to stop you. And really, that said it all.

You’d made straight for the baths and shrugged off the ceremonial robe, pulling on your old day dress as quickly as possible. You’d run to your chambers with bare feet slapping against stone, slamming the door behind you with wild eyes and wilder thoughts.

I have to get out of here. You couldn’t stay here where you were a figure of ridicule; where everyone knew you loved Loki enough to satisfy some ancient magic and his first thought had been an ale, and the approval he so desperately wanted. A place of honour, yeah right. Anger curdled in your gut. He hadn’t even said thank you. Bastard.

You bit back tears as a bag was stuffed with all the necessities you could think of. It would take a few days to arrange travel somewhere far away from here, maybe back to your family. But until then, you couldn’t sit here waiting for whatever pity knock came at the door. And there was only one place that came to mind. “Oh,” Lagertha said, peeping through the gap in the bronze door of the Weaving Tower. Moonlight smoothed the deep wrinkles of her face, and the bobble of a sleeping cap hung by the sheet of fabric draped down her chest. She peered to either side, groggy eyes blinking back to your face. “Got Loki exhausted and begging for mercy already? You better be here to spill all the details - I’m a little old for girl talk but I’ll do my best.” She smiled as she said it, but it was wary.

When you didn’t reply she added, ‘…What’s he done?” And then, you started to cry.

Lagertha ushered you inside, bringing you to a small door at the back of the ground floor. Through the haze of tears, you couldn’t even appreciate that the door that had appeared from nowhere on the smooth circular wall, opening into a homely set of rooms. She plonked you at a small table and set about making tea while you heaved out the important details: ceremony, amazing, loved him, left.

Lagertha sighed. She drooped into the chair opposite and pushed a steaming cup of something herbal in your direction. You blew a wet snort into the sleeve of your dress. “Blessed Norns, dear. We may not be royals, but we’re not animals.” She fished in a pocket of her nightdress. “Here,” she said, offering a suspiciously crinkled handkerchief. You took it, blew into it, and she sighed again. “I’m sure he meant well, love.” “He left me!” you gasped, high and squeaky. Your eyes itched from tears and Lagertha grimaced. “He didn’t say a word, let himself be dragged off by the people he claims to despise all telling him how fucking great he was…Fandral was right. I’m nothing to him.” You folded your head in your hands, staring at the table. “I never liked that Fandral,” Lagertha said after a pause. Her chair creaked. “Never trust a man with more shoes than sense, that’s what my mother always said.” A small laugh erupted in your throat. And soon afterwards, the stone weighing in your stomach was dust. Temporarily, at least. When the teapot was empty, she showed you to a small bedroom beside her own holding a long single bed, and not much else. A nightdress was folded on it, woven by Lagertha. The threads shimmered in moonlight. “I can’t magic you up a four-poster bed, I’m afraid,” she said with a sad smile. “But I can guarantee you’ve never slept on finer sheets.” You shook your head. “No, it’s perfect…thank you, Lagertha.” And as you curled your knees to your chest, staring at the wall, you tried not to think about Loki’s eyes as he kissed the inside of your knee; of his warm breath in your ear as the syllables of your name lingered on his tongue, and the hope you'd felt. That was the worst of it. You were trying so hard not to think about it, you almost didn’t hear a knock at the front door.

“What do you want?” Lagertha hissed. You stood with an ear pressed tightly to the wood separating the front door of Lagertha’s quarters to the main entrance of the Tower. A low voice rumbled in response. “I don’t know what to tell you,” Lagertha said. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

“…Safe?” the voice mumbled. It sounded sad. Is it…? You pulled the door open.

Loki stood in the entrance, that broad shouldered silhouette unmistakeable. Shards of liquid moonlight dashed across the wild hair spread over his shoulders. He still wore the ceremonial robe, but the intricate folds were tangled and now he was wearing a pair of those — fucking —leather trousers that clung to every insane muscle. And then, breath caught in your throat. A bruise the colour of stormclouds was spreading under Loki’s eye socket, and a deep scratch ran from his heart down to the oblique on his left side.

He gasped your name, lunging forwards – but Lagertha stopped him with a delicate press to his chest. He looked at her, and then at you. “I need to speak to you,” he pleaded. “I can explain, it’s not what you—" You raised a hand. Part of you wanted to run into his arms and tell him to shut up and kiss him into oblivion. But another part, the sensible part, knew that nothing had changed. Not really. Lagertha looked between the two of you.

“Why don’t the two of you have a little chat, hmm?” You said nothing, staring at Loki. He was breathing heavily. Did he run all the way from the palace? How did he know I was gone? Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you noted the twitch of his fingers by his sides, the frantic dart of his eyes over your face, his lips itching to say the words jostling behind them.

Lagertha rose her eyebrows at you, and you nodded in confirmation. She made a fist at the thin material on Loki’s chest and pulled him inside. The bronze door slammed. The god smoothed his hair back, his abdomen twitching. “Upstairs is about as private as it gets,” Lagertha said breezily, shuffling across the floor. Her bare feet whispered across polished marble. “Just…try not to throw him out the window, will you?” she asked as she passed, patting your shoulder. “The kids need those hams from the palace.”

You lowered your gaze as her wizened hand lingered and then slid into the darkness beyond with the rest of her. And the next thing you felt was the gentle touch of a finger trailing up your jawline. “Little Ow—" “—Don’t.” The finger flinched. Your vision started to blur. “I’m so embarrassed, Loki,” you whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear the waver in your voice. His brows peaked.

“Come upstairs,” he said, letting the fingers graze down your arm and tentatively cupping your hand. Loki led you up the staircase, his perfect ass shifting in those ridiculous leather pants. You bit your lip, trying to douse the hope building in your gut. That hope always got you in trouble. The measuring room looked different by moonlight. A wide bar of white spilt through the solitary window. Outside, Asgard's twin moons were almost in perfect alignment. Once every 500 years, you thought lazily. The chaise in the corner was still in the same place you’d first seen the god draped over it, the first place you’d seen the hint in his eyes there could be something more.

He dropped your hand, pacing to the centre of the room, and spread his arms, turning in a solemn circle. Loki looked up beneath his lashes, the bruise shadowing one half of his face, and moonlight dashing the other. “I am, who I am,” he said with a tinge of bitterness. Loki’s tongue nipped over his lips, trepidation flashing on his features. “To everyone…I am the prince of pleasure. I am usually drunk, mostly rude, or having sex…or all three.” You rolled your eyes, arms folding over the thin nightdress. “But then…I met you,” he finished. He crossed the room, a hand sliding around your waist. “Years in the palace shovelled dirt on the person who I am, who I want to be. I felt like I was…mad. But with you, I feel whole. I can be…free.”

His lips brushed yours, hovering. “When they said The Rite had been successful…I was blinded by everything I always thought I wanted. Everything I’d been conditioned to want by that awful place, just for a moment," he said, voice catching against the short puffs of your breath into his mouth.

“But what I truly want…is you. And you owe me nothing, I know that. But I need you to know that I —” You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him to your lips, tongue demanding entry as he stumbled back and clasped his hands at your back.

“I love you, Loki,” you gasped through messy kisses. "You fucking fool, I do...I just thought, I thought..."

He pulled away. The dark, tangled halo of his hair framed the angles of his face. Loki’s eyes were black in the gloom, a small sliver of blue ringing blown pupils. He cupped your jaw, and brushing a thumb over your parted lips. “I love you in ways I thought weren’t possible, I love—”

Your body moulded to him like a magnet, tongue exploring his it was the first time. His hands cupped the base of your skull as one of yours worked down his chest, down his waist. Loki hissed, jolting back. “I’m sorry,” you said, glancing at the ragged scratch. “What happened?” “Fandral,” he muttered, but before you could ask his mouth was on yours again. You squeezed his cock through the tight leather as Loki unwound his hands from your hair and shrugged the ceremonial robe from his shoulders. “Can we…you know... now?” you breathed against his chest as your eager fingers pulled at his laces. Loki’s chest shook with silent laughter but all he said was, “Yes. If you want to.” You looked up, scandalised. “If I want to? Are you mad?” Loki’s hands stilled around yours. The tip of his cock was hard against your fingers, and all you wanted to do was dig down the narrow gap of the fabric and squeeze; feel him tremble under the weight of how much you wanted every part of him. “If you don’t want me anymore, if The Rite was too much and now you have doubts…you’re under no obligation to—”

“—Fuck you?” A smirk curled at one side of Loki’s mouth. “Well, yes.”

“You’re every bit the arsehole they say you are,” you said, poking the centre of his chest, “you’re vain, and brash, and arrogant…” Loki’s smile grew, sinking slowly to his knees. “Keep talking, darling. Ruin me.” His thumbs and forefingers curled above your knees, working upwards and raising the hem of your nightdress with it. “Proud, and mouthy…but…you’re also kind, and generous and, oh-gods,” Loki’s mouth fastening to your clit, suckling gently. Your fingers raked through his hair, pulling his face tighter to the heat between your legs. In the pearl-slick gloom, there was only you and him; Lagertha's fabrics glistening like exotic bird wings in the half light. Your legs trembled and Loki’s hands flew to your ass, balancing as you staggered through orgasm with a rush of his name.

Sinking to the floor under his guidance, your lips met; whispers of ‘I love you,’ cracked the stillness while Loki waved his hand, and soft fur rugs unfurled from nothing on the floor.

You pressed against his chest, nudging him onto his back. Light kisses were peppered on his bruised under eye, down the line of his nose, across his parted lips. You travelled down his neck, tongue nipping over the thick vein straining and dipping into the hollow of Loki’s collarbone. “Please,” he gasped quietly, nails scraping lovingly down the ridges of your spine, “I need you, I’m begging you, darling.”

“A Prince? Begging?” Tutting softly, you straddled his hips, scooting down the god’s long legs and pulling the leather trousers as you went. Loki laughed as you threw them to the side and kissed up his perfect femurs, and then up the trail of the scratch on his stomach. His cock nestled between the swell of your breasts, pre-cum leaking into the fabric of the nightdress. “No…” Loki whined with feigned frustration. Or maybe not feigned, you thought with a thrill. His cock was incredibly hard, flat to his stomach, the tip dripping fat beads of arousal to the skin below. He arched his back, his eyes flashing with a primordial need. Your grip tightening around the girth, and Loki released a guttural choke. With a deft swoop, you captured the crown of his cock in your mouth. Loki was silent for a moment, and then, he moaned.

It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His skin was velvet against your tongue; every ridge pulsing in time with each suck. Loki’s words were unintelligible. Murmurs of praise in an ancient tongue, the glimpse of his fingers tightening around the furs out of the corner of your eye, his hips quivering with the effort of not emptying down your throat. Your fingers tightened around the base, tongue flicking the sensitive underneath of his shaft. Loki squirmed, and you looked up – mouth full of his cock. His brows peaked in desperation, his jaw slack and strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “I need to be inside you,” he panted, biting back a groan, “please…fuck me. Please—" Before he could finish the sentence, you’d crawled up his chest, kissing him like a Valkyrie. Loki Odinson was putty in your hands, thrusting against your bare thighs like a needy youth desperate to feel a cunt wrapped around his prick for the first time. And it was fucking hot.

A deep groan rumbled in Loki’s chest, and it was only at the last second you realised it was a growl.

He flipped you to your back, caging your wrists above your head, and spread your knees wider with one of his own, settling in the middle. Loose hair hung around his jawline. Above you was the devastating god of legend: the one that could ruin a city and a woman with one smoulder. And he was yours. “I love you,” he said again, nudging his cock at your slippery entrance. You arched up, capturing his lips. “Please, Loki,” you whispered. Loki’s cock breached and the two of you stilled. He panted slowly; his eyes fixed on yours as he eased himself inside.

The god’s forehead rested against yours as he circled his hips; a fullness rising like the tide filling a narrow cave. Of all things you expected Loki to be – gentle wasn’t one of them. And now, you weren't sure why. You clenched on every drag of his cock from your cunt, relishing the pained pleasure in his eyes before he sank inside again.

Each wickedly slow wave of his hips caught the deepest secrets of your desires; his breaths timed with yours, and only your name on his tongue. And then, his lips lowered to your ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth as he came with a thunderous gasp of devotion. "I'm yours," he breathed. "Utterly."

Your legs tightened around his hips, capturing him deep, locking tight enough you’d swear you’d never let go.

Loki's face buried in your neck, his heartbeat thumping against your chest. “I feel cheated,” you whispered against his cheek.

He frowned, pulling back. His cock twitched inside your snug cunt. Norns, it was even more perfect than he dreamed it would be, but — “Excuse me?” he said, followed by a confused snort unbecoming of royalty. He cringed as your lips rippled with a stifled smile. “I’ve heard all these tales of Prince Loki and his sexual theatrics…drama, you know?” You shrugged, and Loki tried to ignore the gnawing desire rear in his lower stomach at how innocently fucked-out you looked. “Is my lover…unsatisfied?” “No?” You bit your lip, and Loki’s manhood eased from your silken channel with a licentious slurp. His eyes narrowed as you continued with, “That was…incredible, I just…you’re different to how I thought you’d be. Gentler, more…romantic.” Loki knelt back, heels digging against his ass. He ran his hands through sweat-damp hair, pausing with the fingers locked behind his head. “You should be honoured,” he sniffed imperiously. “I don’t think I’ve made love like that in…” He realised he’d been staring at the window and tilted his head to meet your eyes, “Ever.” Your beam of pride made his heart explode into a thousand, shining pieces. He towered over your moon-drunk body, memorising the lines that appeared in your face when you were truly happy. Joy. Acceptance. Love. So, this was what it felt like. One finger traced over Loki’s lips, down his chin; fell to his chest and continued its descent between his ribs. “Are you asking to experience both sides of me, tonight?” he asked: slow, gravelled.

You bit your lip again, but the smile couldn’t be contained. Loki lowered, making a show of placing his palms above each of your shoulders.

“Are you asking for Loki of Asgard to fuck you like a god?” he growled, relishing the frantic nod of your head. “To take you as his mistress, and mark you as his own?” He shot you a wolfish grin. No words passed your lips – at least, none known to gods or men. Your hips thrust up to meet the dangle of his riotously hard cock with a clouded, desperate mischief in your eyes.

“Mmm,” Loki hummed, sliding a flat palm between your breasts and massaging the base of your neck. In one graceful movement Loki’s hand dropped to your waist, the other scooping beneath your hips and sliding your body up his thighs. He gave your arse a tight smack, grabbing a handful of hot flesh with an approving rumble. He held you still above the tip of his cock, mustering his best look of regal indifference. “What do you want?” he goaded. The fingernails digging into his shoulder muscle would leave marks, but Loki didn’t care. “Fuck me again, Loki…please, hard” you gasped, raking through his hair. He knew it would be hanging in perfect dishevelment around his jaw, trailing the hollow of your neck, strands marking his moonlit skin like ink.

Loki lowered you an inch, letting the tight ring of your cunt swallow the tip of his cock. His whole body shuddered, fingertips sinking into the soft flesh of your waist. “F—fuck, darling,” he stuttered. He hoped he’d never become accustomed to that silken fire.

You yelped as Loki powered upward.

His thighs smarted, and your legs tightened around his waist. The god took several steps forward, pressing you tightly against the turret wall.

Asgard’s twin moons shone through the window, coating the city rooftops like white sapphire. They're almost joined, he noticed. The court would be out in force for the event: fires blazing, chants ringing. His absence would be noted. But all Loki could feel was the beat of your heart against his, and your whispers of forever in every breath.

The moan that ripped from your throat as he buried himself was heaven, and Loki intended to wring pitches of pleasure from that pretty throat that you’d never thought possible. He ripped the neckline of your nightdress, devouring the supple skin that taunted him — palming your perfect breasts, and his enthusiasm as harsh from his throat as it was from his cock. You arched into his body, offering your neck like a willing rabbit to a panther. Or was he the rabbit? Hel's fire: It had never been like this.

He wanted to consume you, or rather, let you consume him. An endless cycle of lust, and love, and eternity. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Whatever he’d found in you, he’d found himself. Every inch of himself was alight with the grip of your cunt as he bottomed out again and again. A hand flew above your head, gripping a chunk of uneven stone. “Make me yours, Loki Odison,” you breathed as your climax ebbed, clenching tightly around the root of his cock. He dragged it out with a gritted growl. Webs of cum squelched as he eased in, and out; your ambrosial mess coating the wet, slow clap of skin. “You give yourself freely,” he panted, and your fingers wrapped deeper in his hair, tugging sharply. He hissed, delivering a punishing thrust that made the wall behind you tremble. “I take nothing which isn’t offered freely; I take nothing which isn’t already mine.” At that, your crossed ankles pressed deeper into the base of his spine. Loki thought he might explode. “Mark me with your power, Loki,” you said, nudging his lips to yours. “Uhhh, g-gods…don’t…” A sob caught in his throat as he felt orgasm swell. He bit into your shoulder, sucking hard enough to bruise. Your gasp of pleasure was the final tie. It snapped. Loki’s hand flew to your ass, pulling you a final devastating time down the rippling veins of his length. His heavy breaths thrummed with climax, your hands fastened to the sides of his face – forcing his eyes to yours.

“Mark me,” you slurred, resting your head against the wall: watching him come undone inside your sweet cunt with a lazy smile. Loki’s vision blurred, blood thundering in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, face tipped to the ceiling and a strangled moan choking from his throat as he emptied molten seed deep inside you for a second, glorious time.

Your lips fastened to the hard vein throbbing in his neck, kissing up until they met the angle of his jaw. "Which side of me do you prefer, then?" he asked, noting the wild thump of his heart. He felt your smile against his cheek.

"I love all of you, Loki." You kissed the tip of his cheekbone. "Every side," you whispered, "and each piece between. You never have to pretend with me. And I promise, I won't pretend with you."

Loki's vision blurred, a thick swallow working down his throat. And for the first time, he knew without a doubt exactly what he wanted; what he needed.

“Marry me,” he murmured, and your grip on his hair faltered. “What?” You looked at him with nothing less than utter bemusement. “You can’t be—" “Serious? Deadly.” Loki lowered you to the ground and kissed you so deeply that he felt the hidden parts of him mingle with yours. But it was meant to be this way. “You opened yourself to me during The Rite – gave me my destiny – but it wasn’t the succession, it was you.” You opened your mouth and closed it again.

Loki raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Balls of light burst in perfect sync in mid-air: dozens of tiny, flickering orbs of golden flame. Your eyes met his. “Loki, I love you, but you don’t mean that you need to…your family would never—" “—Fuck my family,” he said softly. “To Hel with their inane traditions that serve no one but themselves. I will marry you, and I’ll be happy. I’ll make you happy. If you want it.” Loki touched his forehead to yours, feeling your shoulders begin to shake. “Together, we can usher in a new age of Asgard; a new dawn.” Loki drew his face away, unsurprised to see tracks of silent tears making your cheeks glisten. With every second that passed, the nerves in his stomach skittered to the emptiest corners of his mind he preferred never to tread.

“Will you have me?” he whispered, searching your face. “Will you help me?” The air was knocked out his lungs as you threw your whole weight at him; arms locked around his neck and mouth pressed violently to his own.

Amber slats of sunrise played in the sharp crevices of Loki’s cheekbones. They softened the bruise Thor had left. Loki hadn’t wanted to hide it, not from you. Not from Lagertha, either.

His blue eyes peered knowingly over the rim of one of her pattered teacups, narrowing softly. You smiled, and straightened as Lagertha came bustling through the kitchen door. “Ah, you stayed the night,” she said brightly, nodding to Loki and making for the teapot. “Thought you might. And I see you got the night-robe I left out, thank you for…wearing it. Not that I don’t appreciate the spectacle but given the circumstances it may be a little…inappropriate.”

She poured a cup, plopping down in the third seat at the small table, before looking between you. An eyebrow rose.

“If I go upstairs, Loki Odinson, there better not be a button out of place.”

The words were honeyed, but you could tell she’d kick his ass if there was. And Loki knew it too. You stifled a laugh as his eyes widened, and he pressed an innocent hand to his chest: mortally wounded. “Every thread is in place, Lagertha. You have my word.” She rolled her eyes, landing on you with a wink. "Mmm..." she murmured sceptically, her eyes falling to the tattered neckline of your nightgown. Heat crept up your neck.

The three of you sipped in silence before Lagertha said, “So I assume I’ll need to clear my weaving schedule for a wedding, then?” Loki's tea erupted in a splutter, bringing a fist to his mouth and coughing frantically. You turned to her. “I…um…we,” Lagertha patted your hand. “Don’t worry dear, I wasn’t listening. But like I said the first time we met…I have eyes.” She smiled gently. “Am I wrong?”

Her wry gaze swung between the two of you. “Thought not. Fandral just ordered a new batch of capes. I’ll tell him it won’t happen this quarter: Royal wedding garments take top priority, you see. What a shame. I know how much he loathes not getting what he wants.”

She gave you another wink. “But, for the two of you, I shall enjoy every moment.”

Loki reached across the table, and your own hand crawled forwards, meeting it. “I love you,” he murmured. “Finally,” Lagertha huffed. “Nice to hear you say it out loud – blazing Norns, it’s been a long week. If I wasn’t already grey, I would be.” Loki threw her a loving glare as his thumb massaged the centre of your palm. Despite lack of sleep, you’d never felt more awake. “As much as I adore her, Lagertha likes to think she knows everything, darling.” “Cos’ I do,” she said with a shrug. “At least where weaving and their enchantments are concerned. But this?” She gestured between you, “It was as obvious as Asgard is golden. Colour me unsurprised when you announce it and no one bats an eye. He’s met his match, and I’ll curse anyone who says otherwise; weave a spell into their robes which makes them perpetually shit themselves, perhaps. But you better not forget about the little ones—”

“—Never,” Loki cut in. She nodded, and put her hand on top of the knot you and Loki had made. A golden ribbon as thin as cobweb snaked over your wrist, slithering in soft waves through the gaps in your fingers and up Loki’s forearm.

“May the Norns bless you,” Lagertha said with a gentle smile, and the ribbon dissolved like melted sugar, absorbing into your skin. And as you and Loki’s eyes met, you knew, finally, that they did.

A/N: Thank you so much for coming on this journey with meee❤️I really hope you enjoyed seeing a bit more of this version of my Asgard, silly as it is. 🕯️ Whether you're reading this two days or two years afterwards, I'd love to hear your thoughts 😊 May the Lagertha-Vibes be with you, always.

A Masterlist for The Rite is here Series now: Complete. A link to my regular Masterlist is here

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