Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
With the same account, complete eight different threads where your character interacts with eight different usergroups. At least one must be a non-human, and one a student.
Did You Know?
Braces, or suspenders, were almost universally worn due to the high cut of men's trousers. Belts did not become common until the 1920s. — MJ
Noble was self-conscious of how bare he was; his fingers trembled slightly as he worked through her corset. This was what he'd expected, coming here today — but it was one thing to expect it and another to be here, wondering if he should ask what she thought of his chest.
This was also the most nude he had ever seen a woman; it was hard to focus on anything but the thinness of the chemise that separated their skin.
There was heat in his face, from his nerves and the charge of the moment, when she asked if she could touch him. "Yes," Noble breathed. He was not making his usual attempts at bravado. "If I can touch you?"
A small, almost anxious smile crossed her feautures. Despite him having touched her far more intimately than this before, Rosalie knew that granting him permission once again was necessary. "Yes," she breathed and took a small step forward, lifting the edges of her chemise as she did so.
"Help me?" Rosalie then asked in a near whisper. It was obvious she didn't need help with this particular layer, but he'd assisted with every other layer so it was only fair that he do the last as well.
Noble nodded. Slowly, he raised the edges of the chemise and pulled it over her head — she was now before him, nearly bare except for her bloomers. Noble was half-hard in his trousers. He kept one hand on her hip, over the edge of her bloomers, and reached out with his other to cup her breast. He'd never done this before — too many layers had separated them.
He wasn't sure what to do. He actually found himself wishing he had read Clem's sex pamphlet more closely — although there was something it had mentioned that he wanted to try. He pressed another fervent kiss to her mouth — he was still in his shoes, which was firmly ridiculous of him but he was too distracted to deal with it right now — and circled her nipple with his thumb.
It took every effort not to instinctively cover her bare chest with her hands. He hadn't, he'd stood and allowed her to look at his nakedness without flinching.
In the end, she didn't have to consider her nakedness long, for before she could summon the courage to do something else Noble was touching her. The weight of his hand on her hip was one she had gotten used to, however a gasp escaped her when he touched her breast. Rosalie barely had time to react, to reach out and touch him as delicately as he was her, because within what felt like seconds she was struggling to remember to breathe through the intensity of the kiss.
Rosalie gave another gasp, this one bordering on the edge of a small moan, at the circling of her peaked nipple. More. He'd barely touched her and she was already aching for more. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders with each flick of her nipple. It was all she could do not to fumble blindly for his belt, not to urge them into the plush bed behind him.
He'd fantasized about the sounds she was making. Thinking of how to get her to make more sounds like that, Noble lowered himself and started kissing her breasts. He ran his hands over her bare skin. He wished he knew what he was doing better but, — this was good, right? The sound she'd made implied this was good.
It was by sheer luck alone that Rosalie had remembered to cast a silencing charm on her room earlier, something she was immensely grateful for as Noble continued to draw soft, breathy moans from her. "Bed," she breathed out after a minute. She couldn't touch him the way she wanted to with how he was bent. "Noble, take me to bed."
Noble stopped his ministrations to her chest, and looked up at her, the expression on his face sheepish. He stepped out of his shoes, feeling embarrassed to still have them on. He ought to lead her to the bed, he thought — but it was her bed, and he was still wearing his trousers, and he was not entirely sure how to take her there although he absolutely wanted to.
A small noise of complaint nearly replaced the whimpers he'd been drawing from her, though thankfully his sheepish expression distracted her enough that she was able to swallow it down. Instead, once his shoes were off, she kissed him once and reached for his belt. "Still okay?" She whispered, her hands stilling on him.
Her hands were on his belt buckle. And she was asking for permission, so now it was — do or die, maybe. But even with his nerves, he couldn't imagine saying no right now — not when she'd let him undress her, and kiss her in her secret places, and he wanted to be exposed this way for the first time. "Please," Noble said, kissing her firmly on the mouth.
Hardly a heartbeat passed after he consented before Rosalie was undoing and pushing down his trousers. Her hands grazed over his hardness as she worked, with the length of his member both surprising her and not. Rosalie understood the mechanics of intimacy, had seen flaccid penises countless times in her line of work, and yet she couldn't stop the flare of nervousness at the realization that there was no going back after this.
She kissed him harder, forcing any anxiety from her mind as she palmed his member through his drawers.
Noble gasped at the feeling of her hand on him, even with a thin layer of fabric separating them — it was a new level if intimacy, and his body responded. He was rapidly getting harder. "Bed," he said, echoing her.
Rosalie needed no further urging, and with one final kiss she was stepping back from him just enough to lead him towards her bed. Any earlier worries over the linens, cushions, and blankets had vanished entirely as she urged him to sit before straddling his lap. This position was at least vaguely familiar from all the times she'd sat upon the counter with him between her thighs this summer, though the warmth radiating from his member was an entirely new level of intensity.
Rosalie Hunniford sitting on him, in the nude, was something Noble fantasized about off and on for the last several months. He rocked his hips underneath her as they kissed, enjoying the heading feeling of his cock separated from her only by a thin layer of fabric. There was something wet between her legs, and rather than being unsettling it was interesting to him, and he reached one hand forward and experimentally placed a finger in that wet spot, touching her in one of the places that Merlin-forsaken pamphlet had said women liked to be touched.
It felt good. He'd planned to avoid finishing inside her, but he already felt less in-control than he was when he touched himself. How was he actually going to manage pulling out of her, in a way that they could feel sure about?
Rosalie lost herself to the desire pulsing through her blood, to her growing rippling need for him. She sighed whenever he rocked up, the added pressure against her core causing a flood of unfamiliar wetness between her legs. The rocking was nothing to his touch though, and Rosalie saw stars when he neared the sensitive bud at the top.
Then, Noble stilled, tensed, and Rosalie tensed as well before asking, "is ... is everything alright?"
Noble didn't move. He knew that saying what he was thinking may be the equivalent of pouring a bucket of cold water over both of them, but he did not want to lie to her — it would be worse for her if he made a mistake. He swallowed and said, sounding reluctant, "I'm worried about pregnancy."
"Oh." The possibility of pregnancy was something they ought to have discussed prior to tonight, or even before having the gin and kissing their way up the stairs. But, Rosalie had believed the answer was rather obvious in that pregnancy wasn't at all a concern of hers. If it did happen, she would take care of it. They were both well trained in potions, him likely moreso than her. And since marriage was something they'd both made their opinions clear on, aborting any possible pregnancy was the only conclusion.
She sat back on his lap and removed her arms from around his neck. The distance was helpful in creating some clarity through the blind desire. "I ... there are methods of aborting a pregnancy if it became an issue." She explained carefully, hoping she was stating the obvious and not touching on a moral issue of his. "I don't think I'm fit to be a mother at this point in my life."
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