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aphrodeiities · 6 months ago

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ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇꜱ

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and i wanted to be kind and leave one more spot for someone for a chart reading, £30 for a natal chart reading and i'll be closing it!

♇ what is a ruler in astrology?

♇ a ruler in astrology is a planetary ruler, a planet that rules over the sign that takes over a house, for example, someone with capricorn in their second house, will have saturn as their second house ruler.

♇ my second house is ruled by saturn, and saturn is placed in my seventh house in astrology.

♱ 1H RULER IN THE 1H ⟶ important people, could be very self-centred or thinks about their path a lot. attractive people, might think of themselves too much. popular and likeable. fiery people, handsome faces, fast, bold and an important life-path.

♱ 1H RULER IN THE 2H ⟶ money, security and beauty oriented. a beautiful person, distinct, calming or nice voice. financially driven, loud voices, vocal person, could be good singers, protective people, possessive and are family-oriented. might prioritise their weight and body too much.

♱ 1H RULER IN THE 3H ⟶ siblings/cousins or relatives in general are important to them. fast and charismatic, observant people and can be talkative, could be guides for other people. writers and dreamers. creative, could have a passion for cards and keeping up with trends.

♱ 1H RULER IN THE 4H ⟶ finds family important, making a foundation and legacy for themselves. therapy is important, might find themselves having to be the therapist for other people in their lives. might've had their bodies sexualised when they were younger. can be overly-nurturing, other people might depend on them too much vice versa. could feel close to children, could dream of becoming a leader, beauty, looking like their mother.

♱ 1H RULER IN THE 5H ⟶ fun people and dramatic. finds importance in expressing themselves, romance and fame, tending to the inner-child. romantic, could be a player, artistic. could be selfish and flamboyant. broadway fame, can be show-offs and like to dance.

♱ 1H RULER IN THE 6H ⟶ hard workers, keen and mean. though can be helpful to other people. funny and health-oriented, might think of their weight too much. owning a business, home-business and obsessed with perfection. naggers and can be stalkers, they like to win, competitive people but can be self-destructive. schedule and organisation means a lot to them.

♇ 1H RULER IN THE 7H ⟶ finds importance in connections, and romance. can be a very flaky person, unsure and indecisive about everything. popular person and can be obsessed with aesthetics, can be someone who has different types of friendship groups for different circumstances. cute person.

♇ 1H RULER IN THE 8H ⟶ finds importance in secrecy, money and being a better version of themselves. can obsess over perfection. sexual person, and very sexually appealing person. strong aura can be off-putting to other people. cold/sharp eyes and can look into things too much. stalkers and obsessive people.

♇ 1H RULER IN THE 9H ⟶ big personality, intelligent and big smiles. intoxicating laugh, laugh makes other people laugh. great at teaching and has a vast presence. can take in stuff easily and can be someone who is also on the go, much admirers. "the girl who's always gonna be alright".

♇ 1H RULER IN THE 10H ⟶ popular people, stoic and ambitious. and can be people who are stoic and handsome. very nice and commanding voices. can be people who are leaders, admired, much pressure on their shoulders. gets along with superiors, easily attracts attention from everyone. stands out, dark academia aesthetic.

♇ 1H RULER IN THE 11H ⟶ friendship means a lot to them, but also being independency. belonging somewhere is important to them. standing out, internet famous, can be people who are geniuses and secretive. moralistic and can have high standards. these people are rebels and unorthodox, psychic and social climbers, money-oriented too.

♇ 1H RULER IN THE 12H ⟶ escapists and dreamers. fame. self-victimisers, too sympathetic especially for the wrong people. avoiding problems and being people who are intuitive, emotional people and addicts. runners and maladaptive day-dreamers. artistic people and people might project onto them vice versa, distaste of being perceived everywhere, hermit people and self-sacrifices themselves for a better future.

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redvexillum · 3 months ago

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@feral-fox-crypt I think I'm a psychic because I think you want rough sex with Alastor? Am I right or am I right? I want to dedicate this story to @dewdropdinosaur she has read some of my other rare pair fic during Kinktober/Flufftober and always left a comment that brought a huge smile to my face. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this one! 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, human!alastor, rough s♡x, reader has sub drop, aftercare, bad BDSM etiquette, rough ♡ral s♡x, p in v, choking, hair pulling, belt whipping, dual POV, alastor is bad with feelings, multiple ♡rgasm (f!receiving), over-stimulation, crude language, degradation, d♡m/s♡b, alastor is d♡m, reader is s♡b, minor hurt/comfort, alastor catches feelings for reader

✨️ recommended to read c☆ckwarming first for a fulsome experience ✨️

The sound of slick, wet slurping filled the room, obscene and unashamed, like a starved animal devouring a long-awaited meal.

Alastor sat back, his glass of bootleg rye balanced in one hand as he stared out the window, eyes fixed on the darkened shed outside. His grip on the glass tightened, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his eyes narrowed, fury simmering beneath the calm veneer he struggled to maintain. It was a cold, bitter fire that burned hot in his chest, ignited by his own failure.

He had let his prey escape.

The papers were a humiliating testament to that. The Bayou Butcher, mocked openly, ridiculed. The survivor had painted a vivid tale of bravery, twisting the truth until Alastor was depicted as a bumbling fool—a pathetic predator who’d somehow let a prize slip through his fingers. Every word mocked him, taunted him, kindling the rage that boiled just beneath his polished surface.

With a low, guttural growl, he seized a fistful of your hair, dragging your mouth off his cock with a loud, wet pop. Your eyes, hazy with lust and adoration, lifted to meet his. Your bruised, swollen lips parted as you gasped for breath, desperate for his approval even now. Your lips had been wrapped around him for the better part of fifteen minutes, greedily sucking him down, each needy pull of your lips drawing the otherwise dormant arousal to life. His cock twitched at the sight of your expression: you wanted more, no matter how he took you.

“S-sir?” you breathed, voice soft and trembling as your bare, supple body quaked under his fierce gaze. He could feel every small tremor against him as your hardened nipples brushed his legs, the friction sending jolts through you with each hitch of your breath, each restless grind of your thighs, trying to soothe the ache that pulsed between them.

A smirk tugged at his mouth, dark and almost cruel, as he released his hold on your hair. “Come,” he commanded, low and dangerous, enjoying the thrill that coursed through you at the sound of his voice. You obeyed instantly, crawling toward him on all fours, desperate and shameless, just as he’d taught you—like the bitch in heat he’d once sneered you were, back when he had taken you in the dark intimacy of his radio station, his cock deep in your throat to muffle your needy moans.

You were such a simple creature, so delightfully obedient. Alastor couldn’t fathom how any woman would indulge his depravity the way you did, how you could revel in the filthy things he made you do.

But there you were—a rare, eager little pet, his perfect plaything, someone so willing to lay bare her body and soul for him that he’d found himself unwilling to discard you. You were a treasure he had now taken into his home, cherishing you like a prized possession.

His cock throbbed at the sight of you, and his eyes tracked the sway of your breasts as you crawled toward him, each movement sending them into a pendulous swing that only fuelled his arousal.

Your expression was one of pure, open adoration, your gaze filled with the kind of devoted bliss that soothed the sting of failure in a way nothing else could. His anger ebbed as he watched you, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar possessive warmth that simmered and coiled low in his gut.

As you reached him, he knelt down, exposing himself fully, his arousal drooping slightly from lack of stimulation. But you, sweet and eager as always, hastened to rectify that, fingers wrapping firmly around him as you stroked him, forming a tight ring with your delicate hand. You leaned in, the tip of your tongue flicking over the head of his cock, and a shiver ran through him. With just a few teasing licks, you brought his desire roaring back to life, your skilled, needy mouth working magic on him with effortless grace.

Alastor’s hand drifted to your head, fingers curling gently in your hair as he began to stroke it, his touch uncharacteristically soft, almost tender—a rarity that had your cheeks flushing as you stared up at him. Your lips curled into a blissful smile, basking in the affection he so seldom gave, your fingers still wrapped around him as you savoured his touch.

You were nothing to him.

He reminded himself of that with each pulsing beat of his arousal, each hungry sweep of your tongue over him.

You were a diversion, a pastime, a convenient release for those primal urges that not even he could deny. And yet, as he gazed down at you, a small thrill surged within him, intoxicating and delicious.

“Suck,” he murmured, his voice a soft, commanding whisper, devoid of emotion yet laced with something he had yet been able to name.

You responded instantly, need and devotion glimmering in your eyes as you wrapped your lips around him, forming a tight seal at his tip before taking him deeper, letting him fill your mouth. Your tongue traced over him with soft, teasing strokes, and you began to bob your head, each movement drawing a low groan from his throat as he watched you.

You were hopelessly clumsy—always fumbling, tripping, and blushing every time he so much as looked your way. But he loved the effect he had on you, how that heavy blush painted your cheeks every time he took control, how you quivered with each command. And no matter how rough he was with you, how often he pushed you to your limits, you only came back for more, craving everything he would give. That thought alone made a sharp grin spread across his face.

A dark, possessive desire simmered in his gut, and he felt the twisted thrill of knowing just how easily you surrendered to him. You were the perfect woman...pet for him—the way you willingly, eagerly, gave up control, placing your complete trust in him. The way you looked up at him with reverence, even now, as he twisted his fingers in your hair and tugged sharply. A delicious shudder ran through you as he thrust forward, pressing deeper until he heard that lovely, choked whimper, felt your throat tighten around him. Yet, even then, you didn’t pull away; you stayed, devoted and unyielding.

Like a loyal dog. Like a bitch in heat.

... Like his cherished, obedient... pet.

The sound of his harsh breaths mixed with your muffled moans and wet, sloppy noises filled the room, each messy gulp of yours sending a wave of satisfaction through him. Drool began to slip past your lips, clinging to your chin in a thick, sticky mess. As he looked down, he felt a realization settle in his chest—a rush of certainty that you would stay by his side until death itself claimed you. You would be there, smiling up at him with that same innocent adoration, even if he stood drenched in the blood and gore of his latest kill.

You, his perfect, shameless... lover, would fulfill his every dark desire unquestionably, wouldn’t you?

In one swift motion, he pulled you off his cock, and your breath hitched as you looked up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy with need. The sight of you—so willing, so utterly ravished—sent a pulse of heat straight to his core, and his cock throbbed, painfully hard at the sight. Since when had you looked so divine? When had he started craving you like this?

Why did he want to consume you whole?

He took your hair in his hand again, a makeshift leash, and guided you to his bedroom. You stumbled as you tried to match his strides, hands and knees scrambling to keep up, yet you didn’t utter a single complaint. Instead, your wide, needy eyes were begging, pleading for him to take you, to give you every piece of himself.

When he crossed the threshold, he paused, feeling a strange sense of anxiety. This would be the first time he’d take anyone, you, in a bed.

For the first time, he wanted to ravage you on something softer, something that allowed him to enjoy every moment, every gasp, every twitch of your body. Every other time had been in rough, illicit places: his office, the hidden corners of alleyways, beneath the cover of twisted trees in the bayou, or pressed against the cold, unforgiving floor.

He stopped at the edge of the bed, watching as your trembling fingers reached up to trace the outer seam of his pants, awaiting his next command, your eyes so full of devotion it made his chest ache in the strangest of ways.

A thrill of ownership surged through him; you were his in every way, weren’t you? His pretty, obedient plaything. His perfect, precious pet.

And you, he realized with a dark satisfaction, were entirely his.

You were a strange girl.

You knew you were.

Excitement pulsed in your veins as Alastor, the one man who owned your every thought, invited you to his home. The whole way there, nerves danced beneath your skin, feeling the weight of his silence as he drove you deep into his bayou. This was a first—he’d never brought you into his home before.

Heat flooded your core at the thought of what he might do to you. Alastor was the only man who didn’t treat you as fragile. The only one willing to satisfy every dark, unhinged desire you harboured, needs that would make anyone else turn away in disgust. But he never looked at you with revulsion during these acts, save for that lingering smirk when you fumbled over your duties.

You were happy—beyond happy.

Being with Alastor made you feel more alive than you’d ever been.

Now, completely bare before him, you knelt, wanting to whine, to beg him to take you in whatever twisted ways he pleased.

But...as your eyes traced his expression, you realized that there was something different about him today. His usual rough, unyielding exterior softened, showing a rare glimpse of something tender, something reserved only for you.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, his voice low, demanding, with a hint of cruelty that made your stomach tighten.

You scrambled, snapping from your trance. But after kneeling for so long, your legs wobbled beneath you, and you stumbled back to the floor, wide-eyed as you looked up. A cold, dangerous smirk curved his lips.

“So you can’t even follow a simple order, can you?” he mocked, voice dripping with condescension. “And what did I say I’d do when you can’t follow orders, dear?” he hissed, fingers pulling his belt from its loops with an agonizing slowness, the sharp slide of leather against fabric filling the silence.

Your breath caught, the thrill of fear mingling with a rush of wet heat between your thighs. You remembered all too well—the time he bent you over a tree for not bringing his dry cleaning on time, each slap echoing through the bayou, burning itself into your memory.

“That you’d punish me, sir,” you whispered, barely audible, your voice trembling.

“Correct. Ten strikes.” He grasped your upper arm, pulling you to your feet, only to toss you onto the bed. You landed face down, the plush fabric against your skin as you arched your ass up for him.

A chill swept down your spine as he traced the belt’s cool edge over your heated skin, dragging it slowly along your soaked, sensitive folds. The slick sound of your arousal coating the leather mingled with your ragged breaths, filling the room.

And then, without warning, the belt sliced through the air, landing with a sharp, punishing crack on your bare skin.

“Ahh!” you gasped, your body lurching forward as you pressed your face into the mattress. “O-one,” you whimpered, each heartbeat amplifying the sting as your clit throbbed, the pain melding with pleasure.

A fire sparked beneath your skin, flaring with each strike as Alastor whipped the belt against you again and again. You counted each one, voice wavering between cries and sobs, drool trickling down to meet the tears blurring your vision. Your thighs quivered, struggling to keep your ass raised, eager for him. On the seventh strike, when the belt caught your slick, needy folds, you felt a wave of shame as liquid spilled from you, glistening on your skin.

A low, desperate moan escaped your lips as your walls clenched, craving something to fill the aching emptiness.

Alastor’s sharp, mocking laugh sliced through the haze, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Coming without permission now, are we?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer, raining down the final strikes in swift, merciless succession.

Your cries softened, a mixture of raw pain and bliss as you trembled, knowing that the bruises would mark you for days. Each ache would bring you back to this moment, reigniting the desire pooling within you.

Then, without warning, he pressed three thick fingers into you, plunging deep. Alastor leaned over your arched back, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. “How dare you be this wet when I’m punishing you,” he growled, his fingers relentless as they drove into you, the sound of your slick, desperate flesh echoing in your mind.

Your body writhed, pressing back, eager for more, your hips grinding against his hand as he filled you. “Please, please, sir, I need you,” you finally gasped, voice choked with want, your vision blurred with pain and overwhelming pleasure.

The tension snapped in the air as Alastor's voice, pitched with a teasing, dark delight, pierced the haze surrounding you.

“Do you now?” he mocked, his fingers glistening with your desire as he slid them from your mouth. Gripping your hips, he yanked you back into position, aligning his thick, throbbing head with your dripping entrance. Before you could even brace yourself, he sank in, burying himself to the hilt in one fierce thrust that ripped a sharp, needy cry from your lips. Before you could release it fully, his slick fingers thrust back into your mouth, muffling your gasps as your body clamped tightly around him.

You tasted yourself on his fingers, the heady blend of his dominance and your surrender driving you mad as he stretched you with each brutal plunge. You could do nothing but cling to him, letting him bounce you up and down with each pounding thrust that had you soaring, the friction of him catching at every perfect spot inside you. The delicious ache of being stretched so completely consumed you, your clit throbbing as his cock teased your depths, nudging your cervix and filling you with intoxicating waves of pleasurable pain that left you reeling.

Your muffled moans mixed with his guttural groans, the raw sounds of your bodies filling the room as he drove into you. When he finally pulled his fingers from your mouth, he circled them over your swollen, desperate clit, wringing a broken, gasping wail from you as another wave of pleasure shattered through you. His fingers never stopped their relentless teasing even as you came, your body helpless against the mind-melting ecstasy that left you a sobbing, trembling mess.

By the time he tossed you onto the bed, you were barely aware, your body limp and pliant. Your leg draped over his shoulder, he resumed, driving himself into your swollen folds.

Your shameless moans filled the air, the slick sound of him claiming you echoing as he pounded deeper, harder, unrelenting. Gripping your breast, he squeezed, his thumb rolling over your sensitive nipple, sending sparks through your already sensitized body. Your back arched, surrendering every part of you to him, your tears mixing with the damp sheets as you lay bare, offering yourself to his every whim, every desire.

Then his hand was at your throat, his fingers wrapping around, pressing just enough to cut off your breath to reach the edge of oblivion. His cock throbbed deep inside you as he watched you, eyes glinting with manic delight. With each bruising thrust, he tightened his grip just enough for your vision to darken, and with that growing pressure, a new wave of pleasure bloomed inside you, sharper, more intense than before. Just as your world began to blur, he released you, and you gasped, the rush of air into your lungs sending you spiralling as a fierce, desperate climax ripped through you, shaking you to your core.

Your soaked body trembled uncontrollably, each pulse of his cock within you driving you deeper into a haze of pleasure. His hold never wavered as he brought you to the edge again and again, until there was nothing left but the raw, aching, consuming pleasure that marked you as his.

The heat between you was overwhelming, each breath catching as you rocked on his cock, feeling every thick inch filling you deeply. You could barely process the bliss, but you didn’t stop, even as your thighs quivered, and your mind spun, surrendering completely.

Alastor threw his head back, his usual control slipping as he gripped your hips, his own movements coming to a halt while he let you take control for the first time, guiding his cock deeper with your rhythmic movements.

"That's it, dear," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice husky and rich with praise. His release flooded into you, thick and hot, and he let out a small, breathy moan as you continued to move, clenching around him to draw out every last wave of his pleasure. “Take every single drop,” he muttered, the words leaving his lips with a fervent, almost reverent edge.

Finally, he softened and slipped free, his seed mixing with your own arousal as it dripped between your thighs. He let himself fall back, his gaze heavy-lidded but still drawn to you, watching as you slumped, exhausted and trembling. Your legs splayed apart, arms limp, and your face a mess, wet with both tears and the remnants of your desire. Breathing raggedly, you tried to ground yourself, but your mind still floated in that heady haze, every muscle vibrating with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You stared up at him, craving more, more of...you weren't sure what you craved. But you wanted to feel him, whatever he was willing to give you. Even as your body barely held itself together, you forced yourself to move.

The thought of, please don't leave, echoing in the dark recesses of your mind.

A warm, low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and before you could react, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. Something in you seized up, a flood of warmth welling up behind your eyes as he pressed you against him.

Normally, he’d leave by now, always returning to whatever occupied him after these indulgent moments. Your fingers trembled, hovering uncertainly over his back, unsure if this was something you were truly allowed to reciprocate.

Alastor had taken you farther than anyone else, yet he also left you feeling more alive and more vulnerable.

As the thrill of the moment faded, you often felt a pang of sadness after, not knowing how to tell him that all the intensity seemed to leave a hollow ache in your chest. You bit your lip, not wanting to risk anything that might make him see you as clingy or overly attached.

“Go on, dear.” His voice held that playful lilt, but underneath it, there was an unfamiliar warmth. “You know how to embrace, don’t you?”

Hesitantly, you let your arms wrap around his shoulders, feeling the roughness of his suit and the warmth of his skin beneath. Tears spilled over your cheeks as you pressed yourself to him, breathing in his scent, feeling a strange fullness you hadn’t experienced before—a feeling beyond just your body. He didn’t let go, instead rubbing a gentle hand along your back, wordlessly accepting your embrace.

“Sorry,” you stammered, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I’m not sad; I swear I’m not…”

You wanted to tell him that the happiness you felt when he held you like this was overwhelming.Maybe you were a strange girl with strange feelings, but right now, held tightly in his arms, you felt more complete than you ever had before.

For the first time, Alastor’s hand stroked your hair, each touch gentle and unhurried, melting away the last of your reservations. And as the tears continued to fall, he held you there, secure in his grasp, until you finally drifted into sleep, feeling a place of belonging and acceptance in his embrace.

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