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Andulka
d e v o n
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Cosmic Funnies
Origami Around
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
★
roma★
titsay
izzy's playlists!
shark vs the universe
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Janaina Medeiros
we're not kids anymore.
Sweet Seals For You, Always
noise dept.
#extradirty
Kiana Khansmith
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@neerosier
OOC what do you do in real life?
aha, i don't actually do anything at the moment. i was in school but because of medical reasons, i had to drop out. i mostly take care of my step-dad, who had a double-bypass a couple of months ago ( heart surgery ) so he wasn't capable of doing much for a while.
Do you like to kill?
"Do you really think I'm going to implicate myself by saying yes?"
He’s fucking her in earnest now, feeling the coild of pleasure tighten and tighten and his pure pure blood feel like it’s been transfigured into champagne. He’s forgotten all about the earrings, about his crying useless wife, even about the war. The only thing occupying his mind right now, at this second, is how good in and out and in and out and in again feels.
Druella would have been a great match for him. It’s something that her refusal to submit on assures him of. And infuriates him all the while. She should be his, should bend to his will, not sink her nails into his shoulders and make his breath hiss out of him and certainly not be married to Cygnus.
A rumbling groan from his chest is at once both acknowledgement that her nails are sending fire through his bubbling blood and a warning that he can go even slower if he wants. He does not want though. He very much does not want. She is making him want to speed up and keep going amd never stop and her eyes staring into his arent helping at all.
His feet move back a little, to give him more leverage, a deeper angle, and to give her more room to move and work her wandless magicless magic on him like a Muggle temptress in the bedtime stories. His pace increases and even if the doors had opened and the combined Wizengamot and International confederation were stood there, he would not have stopped, because he’s there . With a series of grunts and jerkier, less rhythmic thrusts, every bubble in his blood pops and rushes to his groin, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside her and his head full of a rushing roaring noise like an endless floo. He pants against her shoulder, breath seeming to leave in the same pumps as his seed, and heart pounding like a drum. His hair is out of place, he is perspiring, and his mouth hangs open. He is the very picture of how Pureblood Gentlewizards should not behave. And he doesn’t give a damn.
She squirmed slightly, arched her back and clenched her thighs around his hips as he moved, changed the angle and she whimpered, sunk her teeth in to her lower lip and closed her eyes. Her head lolled back, a dull thud almost drowned out by the sound of him thrusting in to her, and this was not at all what she'd expected out of today.
They'd always flirted, it was a favoured past time of Druella's, something she enjoyed partaking in purely because it amused her. She loves her husband, strange as it may seem within their circle of pureblood elite, but she does and she knows he loves her too. But Abraxas -- there's something about him that draws her in, something that makes him fucking her seem almost okay.
Heat gathers in her cheeks, flushes down her chest and she inhales deeply, digs her nails in to his back and meets his thrusts with her own, allows a choked moan to break from her throat as she feels herself reach the very brink. It's not until he's groaning, until his hips move faster and with a lot less rhythm, until she feels him let go, that she in turn feels the tightly-wound coil within her naval snap.
She's never been one to come quietly, something Cygnus could attest too -- not that she expects him to ever be asked, so she has to muffle her cries. Biting her own lip until she draws blood, Druella clung to him chest to chest as pure pleasure coursed throughout her body. Heavy breaths slip from her lips and she feels quite lightheaded, back still pressed against the wall and legs wound tight around Abraxas' hips, he's yet to slip out of her and for that, she's grateful. As long as he doesn't get her pregnant, she doesn't care what he does.
A Woman Scorned || Druella & Vincent
As she kept walking, Vincent hurried to catch up with her, his amusement and curiosity piquing. She was an interesting one, Druella Rosier, and Vincent’s interest was increasing. He had always been a rather curious kid, wanting to get into the business of others, and that hadn’t changed into adulthood.
"I suppose you would’ve," Vincent conceded, not at all expecting the older Pureblood woman to react so strongly and coldly. He had expected her to be much more soft, gentle, and proper. But this was far more interesting. As her eyes flicked to the left and right, Vincent’s followed. "Are you looking for something? I can help out."
He stepped in front of her, stopping her path, before remembering her earlier words. “Unless you want me to get out of the way, too.” He offered her a half-smile, fully understanding that he could be incurring her wrath. But this was more entertaining than the boring afternoon Vincent was planning on spending in the shop, and he could afford to take an afternoon off. He needed something to spice up his monotonous routine, and Druella Rosier would do just fine for the moments he spared.
She barely paid attention to the wizard following, listening half-heartedly and with a bored expression and it wasn't until he blocked her path that she actually acknowledged him, turning dark eyes upon the younger pureblood. Those eyes narrowed as her jaw tensed and Druella stared in silence. He's brave, which is foolish. She thought him a Slytherin and yet he acts like a Gryffindor -- it's quite embarrassing, and she'd tell him so, were she to actually care in that particular moment.
Druella's head tilted to the side, her lips parted and she hesitated, before a smirk curved her lips. Striding forward, caring little for the path that he now blocked, Druella's hand rose and her palm pressed against his chest. She's ordinarily quite docile, but Druella has a temper that few like to encourage and that temper ensures a strength some wouldn't believe she possessed. Pressing hard, she moved closer and closer until she was practically invading his space, and she looked up at him, hands curling in his cloak until she could tug him down slightly -- she was quite short, but that had never stopped her.
" the next time you block my path, I'll ensure you're incapable of doing so again." Her tone is low and dark, sultry but that's how she always speaks so when she releases him, she steps around and continues forward, snarling as she does. "And I highly doubt you're capable of helping anyone, Mister Crabbe, least of all, me."
Ships in this RP?
ooc: braxella, but i might be a bit bias. i like their dynamic, they're kind of like... friends with benefits but, not. i don't know if that makes much sense to be honest.
i'm not usually a jily fan but i do love them in this rpg, and i'm quite partial to lucius and narcissa. i ship them in canon and in apv, which really, is pretty much the same thing.
i also ship druella and cygnus but alas, we've not yet had one to really flesh out their relationship so it's kind of a silent shipping thing at the moment.
A Woman Scorned || Druella & Vincent
Knockturn Alley wasn’t a common setting for Vincent, but one he enjoyed immensely. He couldn’t help but light up with childish glee as he saw the grotesque, the bizarre, and the taboo circling the streets and shops, the macabre leering out to him, inviting him in. As a result, he was in an unusually good mood as he walked along the alley, eyes glancing about for the more alternative choice to the Diagon Alley Apothecary. Vincent occasionally indulged in his own home remedies after Death Eater raids, and he didn’t like the supplies that the regular stores offered. No, Knockturn Alley had a much more potent collection of ingredients.
Walking by the scene with Druella and the passerby, Vincent found his eyes training towards her, impressed, really. Vincent knew Druella that way he knew most in Pureblood society, at a distance, without too much knowledge of anything beyond her name, station, and family. He did not expect a proper Pureblood housewife, from such prestigious connections, to have her hand wrapped around the throat of some bum against a wall in Knockturn. But he’d be damned if it wasn’t an amusing and impressive sight.
As she stormed out, Vincent mentally debated whether or not to approach her. She seemed in a particularly irascible mood, but Vincent was in a particularly good one, if not childlike, and he was curious to see what had happened. It wouldn’t hurt to be friend a woman like Druella, after all.
"Sorry to bother you, Madame Black," Vincent said cheerfully, not sounding sorry at all. "I saw your little scene…over there. I could finish off the bloke, if you like. What did he do to you?"
It's rare to find her in a mood like this one. At least, in public. It's a regular occurrence within the confines of Black Manor. Her children and her husband had soon learned that her temper was not something to be trifled with, and unfortunately for her son-in-laws, it was a temper her daughter's had no doubt inherited. Whilst it may be unusual to see Druella so temperamental, it's not uncommon. She'd performed a similar walk through the Ministry several times since her coming of age, and she'd perfected it over time.
Druella paused for barely a breath as Vincent approached, raised her brow in his direction and remained utterly silent as she stared him down before turning on her heel gracefully and resuming her walk. She spoke, expecting him to follow and if he didn't, well -- he'd not make the same mistake twice. "He got in my way." Was all she said, all but growling as she spoke. She itched to reach for her want, to curse every last imbecile that dared so much as look in her direction, let alone have the audacity to stare. She's not modest, and she knows she's attractive -- ordinarily, she'd embrace the attention so many people are willing to bestow upon her but today, no -- today she is in too foul a mood to find it flattering. Instead, she finds it utterly annoying.
"If I wanted him finished off, I'd have killed him myself now, wouldn't I?" It's a rhetorical question, one she throws over her shoulder with but a minuscule turn of her head, barely an inch to the side as she flicked her gaze every which way, trying to find a bar that didn't look infested with rats, or worse, mudbloods.
Which of your three daughters was your favorite? Least?
"Narcissa. I had high hopes for Andromeda — that was disappointing… and Bellatrix has always been closer to Cygnus than myself.”
"I need to seal myself in that vault…"
"to keep people out?"
"oh no… to keep me in.”
[x]
Undoing your brother's death does not count because that is not something you had a choice in or control over.
" why would I want to undo my brother's death? "
Do you love your husband?
"More than anything."
A strange concept, really. They'd married out of convenience, and whilst they hadn't hated either other, they hadn't been in love either. Things change, as always, and she does love Cygnus. Regardless of her... indiscretions.
When was the last time you felt broken?
"What kind of question is that?!"
Offence creases her brow, narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. Druella isn't the kind to divulge information such as that. It's a sign of weakness, and she knows better, she'd been taught better.
'I'm always broken.'
If you could change one thing about your past, what would it be?
” does my brother’s birth count?”
"But then I’d only assumed that with the integration of…" Bellatrix paused, noting the dalliance in her mother’s gaze. Her grip tightened around the neck of her goblet, frustration- which had begun to build beneath her skin the very moment she had stepped into the study- bubbling into her fingertips.
"Oh, don’t worry, Mother," she plastered a flagrantly false smile onto her face, "I suppose I should be content with simply talking to myself, yes? I offer fantastic counsel, especially when it comes to matters of the family. Would you rather I be someone, or somewhere, else?"
Druella's eyes rolled, a heavy sigh passing her lips as she glanced down at her glass and silently yearned for a refill. "Oh, stop being so dramatic, Bella." She drawled, lips pursing as she perused the guests. She does love her daughter, but she won't deny that, at times, Bellatrix can be overbearing. She is her father's daughter, and though she loves Cygnus too, even he can have his moments.
Finally, Druella turned, her full attention falling upon her eldest as she smiled, albeit tiredly. "By all means, dear -- continue with what ever it was you were rambling about." Because while Druella may not be particularly interested at this current moment, Bellatrix obviously is and Druella would rather listen to her daughter than to one of the foreigners, subtle though they may be.
A Woman Scorned || Open
She's furious. Absolutely furious, if the scowl on her lips and the fire in her eyes is anything to go by. Druella is often quite docile, content with sitting back whilst Cygnus dealt his hand. But her girl's get their temper from someone, and it certainly isn't her husband. Her hands shook, clenching by her sides, one itching to reach for her wand and curse the next imbecile to cross her path -- but very few do. Her ire is notorious, and even her husband treads carefully when she's in this kind of mindset.
A snarl tears from her lips as she glares at a passerby, unfortunate enough to have stumbled too close and she reached out, wrapped fingers around the poor soul's neck and backed him up against a wall. Thankfully, it's Knockturn Alley, and she doesn't have to be concerned about getting arrested -- not that she would be. The mere thought is laughable. Slamming him against the stone, she smirks in slight satisfaction as a crack. Perhaps a rib? Or if she's lucky, his spine. Hissing through her teeth, " lest you wish for death, I suggest you stay out of my way...", Druella's grasp tightened momentarily before she drew away, straightened her back and turned on her heel, striding away and paying very little attention to whomever had decided to join her.
"What?" She growled, turning her head slightly so that she could see whomever they may be. For all she cares, it could've been her father and she'd have cursed him to hell and back. Was it not bad enough that her mood was as dark as it is, now she has to endure the company of someone other than herself -- of which even she finds irritable.
She'd considered house arrest. Had pondered the benefits of her presence in a public setting and though quite a few of those thoughts had wondered to bodies in the street, she'd left anyway. Perhaps not the best idea, considering the mood she was in could have fell a dragon, but she didn't care. She needed a drink, something other than fine wine and expensive liquor because though she adores it, though she'd all but grown up with drinks such as that, Druella wanted something strong and bitter, dirty -- common.
